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agoodflyting · 5 months ago

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Why Aziraphale is completely ridiculous in the Bastille scene (and I love him so much for it)

A while ago I posted a comparison of Aziraphale and Crowley's costumes in the 1793 flashback in Good Omens and I wanted to add these little tidbits. (Because they haunt me.)

I feel like most people know this but IF YOU DON'T, Paris in 1793 is right in the middle of something called La Terreur.

HISTORY LESSON If you didn't learn this in school the French Revolution was when, after years of escalating social tension, a coalition representing the working classes of France revolted against the monarchy, violently overthrew King Louis XVI, and declared France to be a republic.

The new National Convention governing France ruled that King Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette were traitors to the people of France because of how they had spent ridiculous amounts of money on luxuries for themselves while vast numbers of the lower classes were literally starving to death. (keep the bold in mind - wealth and class disparities were one of the key causes of the whole-ass revolution)

In 1793 (year of the flashback) both the King and Queen were executed by guillotine for their crimes.

This kicks of something called The Reign of Terror (La Terreur if you want to be French about it). A multi-year-long period in which the National Convention goes on a bloody witch hunt for any and every member of the middle or upper classes who could even possibly be considered a traitor by those same standards.

If you A) had money or privilege, and B) had ever used your money or privilege to treat yourself, you were getting executed. Over 25,000 people died during the Reign of Terror, half of them by guillotine. In fact, the iconic guillotine was used because it was physically impossible to keep up with the sheer number of people they were executing in Paris every single day.

Some things that could get you killed (actually and completely seriously) during the Reign of Terror:

Implying in any way you were sympathetic to the monarchy

Having a noble title

Having expensive things

Wearing expensive, luxurious clothes (*cough* AZIRAPHALE)

helping or sympathizing with anyone who did any of the above

a working-class person saying you were mean to them once

And then there's this bitch...

I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME So we have established that Paris in 1793 is in the middle of a frenzied, state-sanctioned bloodbath in which the working classes are massacring everyone even remotely nobility-adjacent. And in the middle of this frenzy, Aziraphale proceeds to roll up in Paris in this outfit:

How will this outfit get him killed? Let me count the ways...

First off- at this point everyone with even the tiniest shred of self- preservation is hiding the fact that they are in any way associated with the monarchy. The wealthy are straight-up abandoning mansions. The middle-class are plastering over decorations to make their house look 'poor'. The only people dressed remotely decent are the guys leading the National Convention and that's just because nobody can stop them. Everyone else is in 24/7 peasant cosplay or else they are covering themselves in cockades and sashes on to show they're pro-Republic.

Aziraphale is basically a giant shiny white sign saying I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME.

First off the lace jabot and lace cuffs are both associated with the old-school wealthy in the 1790's.

His coat is also decorated in gold braid and silver buttons, which are both marks of wealth and luxury.

He basically looks like he works for Louis XIV - not just rich, but old school rich.

We know it's his natural hair color, but hair powdering (with clay and starch) had been a big trend with the rich all throughout the 18th century to get that clean white venerable look . To someone who doesn't know it's natural, it would very much look like he's wearing hair powder.

He's wearing shades of cream and white, which are very hard to keep clean and clearly states that the wearer is rich and can afford the upkeep necessary to keep an outfit like that stain-free.

He's wearing white knee-breeches and stockings, also called culottes. See above about laundry and how rich you had to be to wear white, but also working-class men wore long pants like this:

A large faction involved in the Revolution were the Sans-Culottes (no-culottes aka we wear long pants LIKE GOOD OLD WORKING MEN). Culottes are specifically associated with everything the revolution hated. That's right - Aziraphale is literally wearing The Fanciest of Fancy Pants in a city where a group called The Men Against Fancy Pants are running around murdering people.

And then there are his shoes.

Oh god his shoes

I could do a whole post about Aziraphale's blessed little white satin pumps and how ridiculous they are.

Actually I might just do that because this is getting so long and I still have to talk about the brioche.

So I can't remember if it's in the script book or if it's from Neil Gaiman's tumblr, but it's apparently canon (?) that Aziraphale was going around in that outfit asking people where he could get crepes and brioche when he was arrested.

The Affair of the Brioches

So... uh... we've all heard the line attributed to Marie Antoinette- how when she was told that her people were starving because there was no bread left in Paris, she famously said...

It's morphed into 'let them eat cake', but the line is first recorded as, "Then let them eat brioches."

While it's unlikely she ever actually said it, the important thing is that... people in 1793 would have thought she said it. It was used as political smear to show how arrogant and out of touch the monarchy was. Marie Antoinette in particular was reviled by the people of France, who thought she was the main cause of their economic problems. That's why she was executed too.

Bread and brioche and the lines between poverty and privilege were a big thing in Revolutionary France. There was a lot of political connotation to what you ate. The French Revolution came about because of decades of suffering among the lower classes of France. It wasn't something that some dudes just decided to do. The people of Paris have been through years of the absolute worst, most oppressive poverty and starvation you can imagine, all while watching the rich throw money around crazy.

So let us recap.

Aziraphale is dressed so ridiculously posh that he looks like a joke parody of a nobleman... and he is bumbling around Paris during the Reign of Terror. Asking people. For brioche. How I imagine everyone looked at him:

It is so astoundingly tone deaf and tactless. He is basically cosplaying as Marie Antoinette and then going around asking the poor for cake.

I just.... Aziraphale. babygirl. no. oh no. You're lucky they even bothered to take you to prison. I am amazed Crowley ever let him live that down.

I have no conclusion other than this. Aziraphale is ridiculous and I love him so much.

YES YOU REALLY SHOULD SIR.

#good omens #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens costumes #aziraphale's white satin pumps #ineffable husbands

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misctf · 28 days ago

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The Problem with Sexy Costumes

There were a lot of things Tim loved about Halloween. But nothing came close to all the half-naked sorority sisters at their frat’s Halloween party. Each year, they’d throw the biggest Halloween party on campus, inviting several of the hottest sororities over. And each year, their frat house would be filled with sexy nurses, witches, teachers- you name it. Tim would go as a football player. Perhaps somewhat unoriginal, given that he just wore his uniform, but he got the attention he needed. The girls would be practically hanging off his muscular arms and running their hands along his abs. Yeah, for Tim, this was the life. And as the party continued, the young jock smirked when he saw a sexy witch standing all by herself. He walked over, a confident smirk plastered on his face.

“Sup?” He casually put an arm around her.

“Get lost.”

Not the response he was expecting. Someone must’ve really pissed her off. But Tim wasn’t all that worried. He just needed to charm this witch.

“Don’t be like that.” He grinned, “You wanna hear a joke?” She raised an eyebrow, “You lookin’ for a broomstick, cause I have something you can ride.” He grinned, clearly impressed with himself.

“You’re all the same.” She mused, “I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.” She looked down at herself, “I look ridiculous.”

Tim frowned, “I don’t think you do.” He reassured, “You’re, like, the sexiest witch here.”

“Exactly.” She continued, “Sexy.” She spat, “It’s so demeaning. Having all these guys stare at you.”

“I don’t think so at all.” He smirked, “We can’t help it. I mean look at you! Seriously, take it as a compliment.”

“Really? You’re...” She was pissed, but she could tell by the jock’s dopey grin that he didn’t understand. A small smile formed on her lips and she placed a hand on his mountainous bicep, “I guess I might just have to put a spell on you.” She whispered in his ear.

“Oh baby, I won’t stop you.” He immediately perked up, a devilish grin forming on his face.

He didn’t quite know what caused this sudden change, but he wasn’t complaining. Tim figured it was his charm that tamed this witch. He leaned in for a kiss, which she returned. And before he knew it, they were going upstairs to his room.

“So you’re gonna put a spell on me?” He asked, pulling off his shirt to reveal his muscular torso.

“Oh you have no idea.” She replied.

Tim didn’t think she was being literal. But apparently she wasn’t just a sexy witch only on Halloween. When she snapped her fingers, the young jock felt his body temperature rising.

“Is it getting hot in here or...”

“Just you.” She smirked.

Tim raised an eyebrow and grunted as he felt a sudden pressure on his muscles. He watched in terror as his muscles started to atrophy before his eyes. His meaty pecs slimming down, as the muscle in them evaporated in mere moments. The steam that was once his muscles dissipating into the air. He turned and begged for mercy as his arms followed- quickly losing their girth, but remaining toned nonetheless. He took a step to try and escape, but felt a shooting pain in his legs. He looked down to see his thick thighs and plump ass evaporate away. He stared at her, pleading again for mercy, only to hear his voice crack and raise a few octaves. He let out a grunt, and with a sickening series of cracks, his body seemed to cave into itself, becoming shorter, slimmer, and all the more delicate. Even his chest and abdominal hairs vanished, leaving him smooth and hairless. Tears stained his eyes when he saw his reflection. His masculinity stolen from him. And when he looked back at the witch- realizing he was now at eye-level with her- she simply cupped his face and ran a hand through his messy hair. He felt a series of pops as his jawline reshaped into something more feminine. Even his hair restyled into a cute quiff.

“Oh now isn’t this perfect.” She mused.

Tim whimpered as his football gear shifted into something more appropriate. His shoulder pads becoming bedazzled with fake jewels, while his jock strap reformed into a tight speedo. She snapped her fingers again, and he watched as his new costume materialized on his slim form.

“Wh-why.” He sounded so weak- so helpless.

But when he turned, she was gone. Tim knew he needed to find her. To have her undo this. And so he left his room and returned to the party. He wished he hadn’t. As he made his appearance, he could feel all eyes turn to him. Staring at his sexy football player costume. Undressing him even further with their eyes.

“Bros?” He whimpered.

He let out a yelp when he felt one of his former frat bros squeeze his ass. Another approached him and gently teased his exposed nipples. Tim let out an unwilling moan, as more of his former frat bros approached him, fondling his ass and lean form.

“Please... wait...” He moaned, his mind fogging over from the bliss.

It wouldn’t be much longer until Tim found himself out of his sexy football costume. His former bros seeing him as nothing more than a sentient toy for their pleasure. And as his eyes rolled back into his head, his focus became pleasing his former bros. And with each thrust into his mouth and ass, Timmy could hear a voice. It was mocking. Lecturing him even.

“Take it as a compliment, Timmy.” It repeated, over and over again, “They can’t help it.”

#male tf #male transformation #straight to gay #twink tf

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scudevils · 1 month ago

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burning love — OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (slight frat au)

warnings: sexual content (no smut), swearing, oscar and reader are in denial, a lot of talking, alcohol and the consumption of (please please drink responsibly!!), daniel is thee party man because why not, not proofread!!

synopsis: all it takes is a halloween party [3.5k]

a/n: definitely not the fic i was planning on coming back with but enjoy!!

oscar and you were just friends.

no matter how many times you told people that, no matter how many times they asked, you still felt your heart tighten as you answered the same every time, "just friends" lingered on your tongue like poison.

you'd grown up together, from the same part of australia up until you'd both moved to america for college, your parents were friends, and you'd seen each other's awkward stages and subsequent glow-ups. it would've been a shock if you hadn't become friends. but that was all you were.

you and oscar were just friends.

that's what you told everyone, and most importantly that's what you had to tell yourselves.

over the years, after the notorious party boys had graduated, daniel had grown a sort of reputation for having the best parties. the idea that if you hadn't been at a DR party then had you even ever been at a party? everyone who was everyone had been invited to at least one of them, hell half of the people there weren't even invited.

his halloween parties were no different, with the addition of costumes that is. that was his only rule, you have to come dressed up.

this year had been no different to the previous, people flooded the entrance to his house, in all sorts of costumes, and you lost count of the black cats you'd seen. halloween had never been "your holiday" until coming to college, and meeting daniel, that was when you started understanding the real message of halloween, dress up in your sluttiest outfits and drink till you were blackout.

this year you'd gone as princess peach, donning a pretty baby pink dress, white gloves covering just below your elbow and a dainty crown sitting on your head.

music was bouncing off the walls of the ricciardo house, pouring out into the backyard where it seemed to be even more crowded. the rooms had been filled with people dancing, red solo cups resting in the hands of the dancers and occasionally being drunk. a beer pong table had been set up in one of daniels spare rooms, accumulating quite the crowd.

the house had been littered with halloween decorations, some cheesy ones in true daniel style, skeletons popping out as you walked past them, an abundance of pumpkins, and ghosts poking out of corners in a sad attempt to scare someone. everyone was appreciating the most important decorations, witches' cauldrons filled with whatever alcohol danniel could find, lined up in an array of colours it was a mystery to every drink you had.

there hadn't been a sober person on the property, and the least sober of them all had to be the host himself. daniel had somehow forced some of the other drunk guys into a pool tournament, the 10 of them taking the game much too seriously with the prize only being about a hundred dollars, but to broke college kids that was like winning the lottery.

amongst the pool players were charles and pierre in a team, then lando and carlos playing against the two best friends. the game had gotten the attention of more people with a large group of people now gathered around watching. oscar looked on from the sideline, either not having a partner or he'd been abandoned by them.

you took this as your opportunity to sneak into daniel’s kitchen whilst the majority of the crowd was gone. a large stack of solo cups was stacked in the corner waiting to the used, the plastic cauldrons looking nearly close to breaking with the amount of liquid in them. you took a leap of faith, filling your cup up with whatever was in the pink cauldron.

you grabbed two of the cups you filled, one with the pink and one with the orange. the instant whiff of alcohol hit you, cringing at the smell, you drank what was in the cup, tasting both of them before you ultimately settled on the pink being the best of the two, although neither you would choose again.

despite the initial taste, you'd grown to like the flavour on your walk back into the headache of a room. there were never any rules at daniel’s parties, minus the illegal stuff, and maybe that was why everyone loved them so much, people were enjoying themselves as you could see the couples in the corners of the room practically dry-humping each other. it didn't matter how much of a mess was made, by the end of the next day the house was practically spotless again.

you eventually squeezed your way through the wall of onlookers and over to the group by the pool table, your friend alex chatting away to charles as he'd already been beaten. oscar was the first to notice you, he almost always was, resting the pool cue against the side of the table as he brought you in for a side hug, conscious of the drinks in your hand. "i knew i'd seen you."

the other boys, even in their drunken state, made a point to say hi to you, alex and kika waving you over to them by the other end of the table. you passed the orange drink to oscar, muttering a quick "i'll be back in a minute" before making your way over to the girls.

"you're finally here!" kika exclaimed, giving you a quick hug before alex followed suit. all of you had been in matching costumes, you as peach, alex as daisy and kika as rosalina. you weren't sure how, but they'd both somehow gotten charles and pierre to dress up as luigi and toad. "you look hot by the way, pink is your colour."

"you're making me blush, look at you guys!"

“you know, a certain someone is dressed as mario.” alex gave you a sly look, as if she knew something that you didn’t, and you couldn’t help but grow warm with the implication, that you’d already seen his costume, choosing to ignore the coincidence and just put it as him having the last choice in the group.

“i’m leaving now.” you smiled sarcastically at them, their laughs sending you off as you watched oscar scuff his shot, the cue grazing the top of the white ball. "you've always been shit at pool."

oscar laughed at your words, not ready to deny them since he knew it was true, dimples accenting his smile. "cause you taught me." as he drank whatever the hell was in the orange drink you saw his reaction nearly the same as yours. "that's fucking disgusting."

"why do you think i gave it to you." you could tell oscar had already been drinking before you got there, his movement a little shaky as he lined up his shot, and his reluctance to get another drink instead of putting up with what you’d given him. somehow he had managed to pot a ball, jokingly giving you a 'that was for you' celebration.

a little over a cup and a half later you couldn't deny that you were already feeling buzzed, the strong drink working its way through your body as you were still watching them play pool. you jumped down from the table you were sitting on, steading your balance for a second before walking over to oscar. "i’m gonna get a drink with alex, want another?"

you really should have cut him off there, he was already in the talking complete nonsense stage, rambling something about how he wanted timtams but was outraged they didn’t have them here. but instead when he nodded yes, you got him another.

alex had grabbed your hand, practically dragging you into the kitchen before everyone else had the same idea for a top-up. "so...tell me when you'll finally get together." she grabbed another cup before filling it up with the mix of pink and blue cauldrons, she was definitely going to be sorry tomorrow for tonight's actions.

you could almost feel yourself sobering up from her words alone, surely you weren't yet drunk enough to answer that question. instead, you let your intoxicated mind take over. "when he grows a pair of balls and asks me." you took the newly filled up cups from her hands muttering a 'thank you'.

"better be soon then, i've been annoying charles about double dates for months." you couldn't help but laugh at the thought of a double date with charles and alex something you wouldn't have imagined even in your drunkest of states.

you and alex had spent another 10 or so minutes catching up with everything, no matter how many times you'd seen her the time you spent apart always seemed to have something interesting happen to the other that you both just had to share.

the moment you’d left the kitchen you could have kissed alex for choosing the best time to go, not that charles would have been very happy about it, there being a very unorganised line leading up to get a drink refill.

and yet somehow no matter how much time you were away the game of pool never seemed to be ending.

"can you both just admit you’re awful at pool and we can end this?" just as you spoke oscar completely missed his shot, barely even touching white. he glared over his shoulder at you, something you returned with a sweet smile before handing him the cup. "seriously think alex and I would do better."

oscar scoffed at your words but still handed you the pool cue and charles followed by giving his to alex. you took one last gulp of your drink, your body not even acknowledging the burning anymore and lined up the shot oscar had horribly missed. you didn't pot it, but at least, unlike him, you had actually hit the ball.

instead when alex took the shot, she’d potted with her first go, going even further by potting the next two in one shot. "told you we'd be better."

the rest of the night had truly been a blur, you had spent so much of it dancing with alex and kika and god knows who else, it all blended into one big memory, all you knew was that your body was tired and needed another drink.

at some point you had felt a somewhat familiar pair of hands on your hips, pulling you closer to whoever it was behind you. you couldn't help but melt into their touch, it felt like the right thing to do in the moment. the feeling of calloused fingers digging into the soft, warm, skin of your hips was addicting.

you tilted your head back against their neck, looking up to find oscar’s eyes staring back at you. nothing was said between the two of you, the unspoken tension was obvious, so repressed by both of you that the slightest bit of alcohol revoked all ounce of self-control the two of you had when it came to each other.

the heat rose in your cheek when you felt his hand moving further down your body, down your thighs and playing with the ends of your flimsy dress. in some way he was pulling it down for you, making sure everyone in there knew you were off limits. the crown of your head started to feel almost childish now, but his hand caught yours as you went to remove it, a kiss being placed on the inside of your wrist before he brought it down to the side of your body.

neither of you said anything, your actions speaking for themselves when you wrapped an arm around his neck. you wanted him, he wanted you. and you both had for a while.

the alcohol pulsing through your veins influenced your next move, bringing yourself flush against oscar’s chest. his hands were still on your waist, your arms still wrapped around his neck. "oscar..." his name was barely above a whisper, but it had never sounded so good coming out of anyone else's mouth.

although, like all good things are, your moment with oscar had been so rudely interrupted by a drunk lando, practically bouncing off the walls as he failed to read the situation. "hey guys daniel wanted to play-" he looked up at the two of you, having to do a double take before continuing. "uhm he wanted to never have i ever...but i'll tell him you're busy."

you could only hope that by the next morning, the headache lando would have would be enough for him to not want to remember the night before. it was awkward as soon as lando left you, quickly unwrapping your arms from around oscar’s neck and pulling yourself off him. you wanted to say something, but instead, you left him standing there, muttering to yourselves as you walked back to kika and alex.

this was the last of daniels traditions he insisted you did every year, was it childish? yes. but have you all done it since your freshman year? also yes. the communal game of 'never have i ever' which never seemed to end had just begun and you have never wished to be somewhere else than, in a drunken thought you wished the witch decorations to be real and that they could transport you anywhere else but here.

the questions had started off as basic as they alway did, the real fun ones coming just about halfway through when everyone was far too drunk to have any dignity left, but you think you’d lost yours long ago.

and of course, daniel had been the one to first ask this type of question, he had a reputation to uphold. "never have i ever...made a sex tape." he wiggled his eyebrows as he asked, with a couple of the players drank, leaving daniel looking a bit deflated. "thought i was gonna get more people."

the next question had fallen to charles, who had been getting the death glare from alex the whole time, as if to warn him not to mention anything that could be tied to her. "never have i ever had sex...in public."

you lifted the red cup to your lips, watching as other people also drank before throwing some of the alcohol back. daniel had also drunk for this round, but the person that had surprised you was oscar, his eyes meeting yours from across the room as he drank, almost tauntingly he swallowed hard.

finally, you had been next for the question, a smirk on your face as you knew someone who would be drinking for this one, and an apology you were definitely going to be making tomorrow. "never have i ever been tied up." it was now your turn to receive the glare from alex, you mock cheersing the cup towards her before both of you drank.

a couple other people had passed by, the circle getting smaller as people began leaving. just as the game was coming to an end, unfortunately for you, kika had been given the job of the last question. "never have i ever thought about someone else while having sex." the girls both looked over to you, your talk the other week someone fresh in their intoxicated minds as alex gave you a smug smile, cheersing you as you had her.

"i really hate you, you know." you let your neck fall into the crook of her neck after drinking, the couches littered with empty cups really not the most comfortable thing to sit on.

alex rested her head on top of yours. "no you don't."

you’d been drunk many times before, lost count of the hours spent over at daniel’s, but this was definitely up there with the most drunk you have ever been. the coloured drinks were definitely hitting you now, a wave of tiredness crashing over you as you looked for a place to sleep for the night. another reason that everyone preferred daniel’s parties; the never-ending amount of sleeping space for those who wanted to stay over and if you were quick enough you got one of the guest bedrooms.

unfortunately for you, your fellow aussie had gotten to the last available room mere seconds before you. oscar had given you a smug look, or tried to his drunken smile mostly took over, he never was good at making faces other than smiles.

you chose to completely ignore him, pushing past oscar whilst he stood in the doorway and falling back against the bed. it wouldn't be the first time you and oscar had shared a room, shared a bed too, and most likely would not be the last.

the thought of taking off your makeup hadn't even crossed your mind, already getting comfortable on top on the covers to be dealing with tomorrow's problems, the dress you had on starting to become uncomfortable with the heat in the room. uou felt the dip in the mattress as oscar joined you, only underneath the covers.

"can i tell you a secret?" oscar’s body was already facing towards yours when you turned your head to look at him, nodding your head. "there's this girl."

"oscar-" his name was like a breath of air through your lips, too tired to hear any of his girl problems, and especially not after what had happened earlier.

his hand lightly traced up the side of your leg, goosebumps rising on the exposed skin. "let me talk, she has to know how i feel." your skin was on fire under his touch, the contrast with his cold hand on your thigh, fingers meeting the delicate lace of the stocking you had on. "i think she's the most beautiful girl i've ever seen, i know sorry, she's funny too, got an attitude on her."

even in the darkness of the room you could see oscar smiling at you, a smile that had butterflies swarming in your stomach and a warm blush on your cheeks, matching his own reddening cheeks you couldn’t help but find adorable. "everyone thinks she's the one for me, mum says that she has been since we were little." oscar’s hand now rested on your waist, his body inching closer towards yours as he spoke.

"and i think i agree with her," you felt his hand now cupping your cheek, leaning into his soft touch like it was almost instinctual, feeling the coolness of his hands against your hot skin. "don't you?" hip lips were just barely brushing against yours now, so close that you could feel them tauntingly graze yours as he spoke.

any attempt to regulate your breathing again had been flung out the window, the closeness of oscar mixed with the alcohol rushing through your blood had your head spinning. "i do." you could barely muster the words before pressing your lips against his, instantly being able to taste the liquor on his tongue. quick to move, you straddled his hips, deepening the kiss as his hands roamed your thighs.

he pulled you on top, already moving the sheets down to have you directly against him. “fucking perfect." his words were mumbled against your neck as he kissed down it, skin flush from the warmth in the room and the blush creeping down, knocking back your head with one of his hands to give him more access.

your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his hair as he nipped at your skin, making sure to leave marks, letting everyone know he finally made the move. his lips were back on yours, never being able to get over the feeling of finally being able to kiss you. "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do this."

"then you don't mind if i skip straight to fucking you?" your words took him back for a few seconds like his brain was short-circuiting with the soft look on your face contrasting your lewd words.

he was quick to nod his head yes. "don't think i can wait any longer.” oscar made quick work in bundling your dress above your hips, exposing your white lacy panties. you could already feel how hard he was against you, rolling your hips against him, his hands having to force you to stop the movement as he was muttering to himself under his breath. the sound of his groans engraved in your memory.

oscar teased his hand down your stomach, the dress now only covering your midriff as he pulled down the neckline, your matching white bralette poking out from underneath the baby pink fabric. he dipped his fingers under the waistband of your panties, any other man and you’d been embarrassed with how turned on you were, but you’d waited too fucking long for him to care. "fuck, how did i get so lucky." he took off the lace in one move, turning his attention back to your lips, not being able to stay away from them since he’d first kissed you.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri x you #f1 #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #fanfic #scudevils

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athenamikaelson · 4 months ago

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Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 7

Word Count- 5.3k

Warnings- Swearing, stabbing, Elijah wanting to hold hands, witch trials

A/N- KLAUS NEXT CHAPTER BABIES!!!

“I don’t understand why you grown men keep dragging me into your shit,” I groan to Alaric as he parks his car. I cling to my seatbelt and regret ever answering my phone this morning. I really just have to throw my phone away at this point.

“I don’t trust him around Jenna, Y/n. I have a bad feeling about the guy,” Ric says as he undoes his seatbelt and begins to exit the car.

“That or are you just jealous?”

I raise an eyebrow and purse my lips at him and he leans down to stare at me with an annoyed look.

“Get out of the car Y/N.”

I watch as Ric makes his way from his side of the car to mine, but just as he’s about to open my door I press down the lock from the inside. I smirk at him as he tries to open the door but it doesn’t budge. He stares down at me annoyed and then presses his key fob unlocking the car. He tries to open the door but I mimic my actions from before and lock the car again. We continue doing this for another 2 minutes before Ric gets the better of me and throws open my door.

“Seriously, Y/n!”

I huff and practically crawl out of the car.

“For the record, I would rather jump in front of a train than be here,” I say matter-of-factly to Ric as we catch sight of Jenna and Elijah walking up a grass path together.

“For the record,” Ric waves at them and then turns his head towards me, “I don’t care.”

Once again I groan as we make our way towards Jenna and Elijah. I lock eyes with the latter and he sends me a warm smile. I don’t reciprocate and quickly turn my eyes towards Jenna. I can still feel Elijah’s eyes on me, as always, as we stand in front of Jenna and him.

“Uh, Elijah, this is my friend,” Jenna, who seems to be annoyed, introduces Alaric to Elijah, “Alaric Saltzman. And you’ve already met Y/N,” Jenna turns to me and seems much more happy to see me.

Ric who can’t seem to catch a clue speaks, “Ya, I got your, uh, message about walking Elijah here through the old property lines. I thought I, uh we,” He gestures to me, “would, uh, tag along. You know us being history buffs and all. Where to next?”

An awkward silence follows for a moment before Elijah breaks it, “I’m pretty curious about the freed slave property owners. Some say, you know, the descendants of the slaves are the true keepers of American history.”

I am almost one hundred percent sure Mr. Suit and Tie has an ulterior motive but Jenna doesn’t seem to catch it as she tells him she has the stuff in her car and that she’ll go grab it. I watch as she walks away and then turn back to the two men next to me. Elijah stands about a foot's width away from me while Ric is to my right. Ric must’ve noticed Elijah’s staring as he moved himself in front of me. If you didn’t want me to be around Elijah why bring me here? Dumbass.

I can still see Elijah from over Ric’s shoulder and the movement Ric made doesn’t seem to sit well with Elijah as a small twitch in his upper lip presents into a snarl. He drops back into a neutral look almost instantly.

“So you’re one of those people on Elena’s list of loved ones to protect,” Elijah says to Ric. Even though Elijah is relatively shorter than Ric the aura Elijah protrudes makes up for it. Anyone could tell that even though Ric is trying to put up a macho front, he’s afraid of Elijah.

“So is Jenna.”

Elijah smirks at Alaric and then shakes his head slightly, “You don’t have to be jealous. I don’t really pursue younger women,” Elijah’s eyes trail to mine momentarily, “Most of the time.”

Elijah turns back to Ric and they stare at each other for a moment before Elijah pats Ric on the shoulder, “It’s a joke, Ric, lighten up.”

Ric rolls his eyes and nods.

“Wait,” I speak and turn to Elijah, “Technically isn’t every woman younger than you? You know, since you’re like old. Really old. ”

Ric just brings a hand up to massage the tension between his eyebrows and sighs deeply, but Elijah lets out a small chuckle that sends shocks down my spine.

“I guess you’re right Y/N. I am really old,” He mimics my tone with a small smile on his face.

—

35 minutes. We’ve been walking in this dirty ass forest for 35 minutes. I should be in bed asleep right now. But nope, here I am following behind three adults as they talk about history. It’s not that I don’t like history, I do, it’s just that it’s a Saturday. I shouldn’t be learning things on a weekend.

I half-heartedly listen to what Jenna is telling Elijah as we cross over a bunch of fallen tree logs. Alaric helps Jenna over one, and I don’t miss the dirty look she looks she shoots him, making me try to cover my giggle with my hand. The giggling instantly stops though when I see Elijah standing by the front of the log with his hand outstretched towards me. We haven’t talked in these 35 minutes since Jenna has been occupying him, but that hasn’t stopped him from turning back every few moments to catch a glimpse of me, as if he thinks I’m just going to disappear into thin air. Honestly, I wish I would.

I’m not going to use Elijah’s help but realize that my clumsy ass would probably fall over the log if I didn’t. So I lightly place my hand into his, which results in him closing his hand over mine. Locking our hands together. Our hands are locked for a long moment before Ric clears his throat from the other side of the log. I quickly look away from Elijah and use his hand to get over the log carefully. I soon as I get over it though I wrench my hand away from his and walk over to Jenna who sends me a warm smile.

“Seems like someone is fond of you,” She whispers to me as she raises his eyebrows suggestively.

I can already feel the redness making its way onto my cheeks as I stare at her horrified. Jenna just laughs at my face as she starts leading us farther down the trail we’re on. Sadly though, Alaric has occupied Jenna, which leaves Elijah to walk next to me.

Elijah’s quiet for a moment, seemingly just enjoying my company before he starts speaking, “Is it true what Alaric says,” I turn to him confused, “That you’re a history buff?”

I sigh slightly as I shrug my shoulders realizing that just talking to the guy might make this little trip go by a little faster.

“I wouldn't call myself a buff,” I use my fingers to make air quotes, “but it’s also not something I dislike. Learning about how our world was made and all the small factors of why it was made are quite intriguing. I also like weird history.”

“Weird history,” Elijah questions me with a frown.

“You know, like the unexplained, or the odd things in history that many don’t understand,” At the still confused look on his face I continue, “You know like the dancing plague of 1518, D.B Cooper, or Oh! The lost colony of Roanoke. That’s probably my most favorite.”

Once I realized that I had just gone on a tangent I went to apologize to Elijah but when I look at him all I can see on his face is pure adoration. The type of adoration that makes the beating in my chest stops. He smiles at me and from being so close to him I notice the small dimple on his left cheek.

“I understand now,” Elijah says, “You seem to be most interested in The Roanoke Colony. Why is that?”

I ponder his question for a moment, “I’m not sure, it’s just something I’ve always been drawn to. Maybe because of how mysterious and odd it is. I’m not sure, I know that some people say it was aliens or cannibalism but there isn’t a known answer. It’s amazing to me that so many people, an entire village, can go missing and there are no clues. Other than the word Croatoan!”

Elijah nods his head along but the look in his eyes and the smirk on his face tells me he’s hiding something. Wait. Holy shit.

I whip around to him stopping us, “You know, don’t you! I mean you’re old enough but I didn’t even think you would…,” I stop and stare at him in awe for a moment, “You have to tell me.”

Elijah opens his mouth but then I shake my head and throw a hand up to his mouth stopping him, “Wait! No, what if you tell me and it ends up disappointing me.”

I go through all the possibilities in my head at what he could tell me and then fight myself on whether I should have him tell me or not. I can feel Elijah’s smile behind my hand and bring my hand back.

“Sorry,” I wince embarrassed.

“No worries, I enjoy seeing you so full of life,” I blush at his words, “Would you like me to tell you?”

I think about Elijah’s question for a moment and then shake my head, “No. I think the reason I love that moment in history so much is because of the mystery behind it. I don’t want to lose interest in it by knowing.”

Elijah seems pleased with my answer and nods, “Very well.”

We continue walking for another moment before Elijah chimes up again, “What else interests you?”

I shrug my shoulders, “Nothing much, I’m not a very interesting person.”

“I highly doubt that.”

I smile slightly at his comment, “Well I like reading. That’s actually something Elena and I have bonded on. I used to get bullied for being a book nerd but now having someone who likes it too is comforting.”

At this mention of Elena, Elijah’s smile drops slightly but then turns into a small frown.

“I’m sorry that you were bullied for reading, as a literature connoisseur myself I find it quite depressing how reading has become something so rare in these past decades. What types of books do you read?”

I nod along to Elijah’s words until he asks what books I read. At this, I instantly get red and look anywhere other than him.

“You know,” I try to find a socially acceptable answer. Not really wanting to tell this 1,000-year-old man I spend my free time reading smut, “Literature.”

“Literature?”

Elijah looks at me with a smirk on his handsome features and I just nod and clear my throat, “Yep, literature. Just all the literature.”

“What about you? What literature do you like?”

Elijah laughs slightly at my change in subject, “Literature in general as well,” I roll my eyes at his joke, “But also I appreciate all types, Historical, the classics, thriller, even romance.”

“You read romance,” I ask surprised.

He nods his head, “On occasion. There’s something so unique about how different authors portray love and devotion. Where some show it as a neverending, intense emotion others show it as one’s demise.”

“And which do you believe?”

This question has Elijah pausing momentarily, thinking, “I’ve lived a long time, Elskan. Seen people start wars in the name of love, and seen people kill and die in its name aswell. To choose just one thought when it comes to the idea of love is something I can not do. What about you, what are your thoughts on love?”

“I want nothing to do with it.”

Elijah goes quiet for a moment at my answer. I face back forward and we keep walking in silence for another moment.

“I understand your reluctance towards it. But still young why cut off something like love at your age?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at his words. My age has nothing to do with my hatred and distaste for love.

“Don’t tell me all that romance you read is getting to your head, Elijah,” I say to him slightly snarky.

“I’ve struck a nerve,” Elijah says as he nods his head.

“Nope. No nerves struck here,” I tell him picking up my speed and walking away from him. He doesn’t have to try hard to meet my speed though as he falls back into step with me.

“Even though there have been no nerves struck,” He tries to lighten the tension with a joke, “I must apologize for overstepping. As I’ve said before, making you uncomfortable is the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

I move my gaze from Jenna’s back, who is currently in a small argument with Alaric, and turn to look at Elijah. Once again his face has no signs of malice or ill intent.

“It’s fine,” I shrug at him, “Like I said no struck nerves.”

Elijah slightly laughs and then nods his head. We walk for another 5 minutes in silence, Elijah helps me over logs and rocks whenever we come up to one.

“Y/N and I should be heading back now,” Alaric tells the group as we get to a clearing.

I nod, happy to be getting out of these woods.

“Well, thank you Y/N for coming today, I’m sure you had more exciting things to do today,” Jenna smiles at me and jokes.

“Just sleeping. But it was nice to see you Jenna,” I reluctantly look over to Elijah who hasn’t left my side, “You as well.”

This has Elijah’s deflated shoulders rising again. He almost reminds me of a dog that is happy someone is finally giving it an ounce of attention.

“It was a pleasure to be able to spend this morning with you, Y/N,” I’ve noticed that Elijah calls me by my actual name when other people are around. But, when it is just him and I, he uses that stupid nickname.

I nod as I go to follow Alaric back to the car but stop and turn back to Elijah, “I guess I’m not one-hundred percent against love,” This perks Elijah up, “I mean I totally loved the dress I wore to the tea party.”

Elijah lets out a deep chuckle that rattles his broad shoulders, “You weren’t the only one.”

I almost choke on my saliva at his words. Elijah’s smirk deepens and I put my lips together and nod my head fast.

“Well, um. I’ll be going now,” I don’t give Elijah time to respond as I speed walk past him and Jenna and grab Ric’s forearm pulling him roughly behind me.

“Keep up,” I whisper yell at him as we speed walk our way to the car.

—

The original plan was that Ric and I would go on that stupid history walk and then after 30 minutes he would bring me back to my house, but of course, no one in this god-forsaken town follows any type of deal. So that’s why I am currently sitting in front of Demon and his “girlfriend,” and next to Ric who are talking about Elijah and how they don’t trust him. Thankfully Damon bought me fries so this whole trip hasn’t been an entire waste. I half-ass listen to their conversation but don’t really care so I don’t process a word they’re saying, at least not until Damon perks up.

I’ve come to learn from my time in knowing Demon that if I see him getting excited about something, someone is going to get hurt.

So that’s why I follow his line of sight and see Elijah and Jenna walk into the Grill together.

“Ah, there Jenna with her new boyfriend,” Damon says. I know he’s just trying to get a reaction out of Ric but something about that sentence makes my skin crawl.

Damon calls over both of them. Jenna welcomes all of us with a smile and wave while Elijah trails behind her looking complacent. As always his eyes find mine and his complacent smile lightens.

“So I hear you two had a meeting of the historical minds today,” Damon speaks to the two.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jenna smiles looking up at Elijah who is now looking down at Demon.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue this, I, uh, I’ve got papers to grade and a teenager to get home,” Ric gets up from his seat and he gestures to me. I frown as I see my fries still half full and quickly grab a fist full and fill my mouth trying to get away with as many as possible, almost choking myself in the meantime. The adults around me watch me with a mix of amusement and slight disgust, but I don't care. I’m not wasting free food.

“No, you know what,” Alex or Stephanie or whatever Demon’s girlfriend is named, chirps up, “We should continue this. Let’s have a dinner party!”

Hell to the no.

“Ooh, my girl. Full of good ideas,” Damon looks over to her before turning back to us, “I’ll be happy to host. Say tonight. Maybe?”

“It’s good for me. Jenna,” Where Alessia agrees Ric tries to disagree.

“Yeah, I’m free,” Jenna talks over Ric. Yikes.

“Will the lovely Y/N be there,” Elijah asks me and I try to tell him, “Hell no,” but the fries in my mouth have left me mute.

“Of course, she’ll be there,” Damon exclaims as if there isn’t any other place I’d rather be. I send him a nasty glare which earns me a wink in return.

“Then it’d be a pleasure.”

Damon’s smile is all but welcoming as he responds to Elijah, “Great.”

This is going to be a horrible night.

—

This is a horrible night.

First I get a nasty grade on my modern art project. Not my fault, since modern art is a crime against humanity.

Then, I try to find a dress for this stupid dinner and the only half-decent dress that I have now is two inches too short.

And then after I said screw it, put the dress on and finished getting ready. I went down to my car only to find out that my front tire had gone flat. Honestly in this case I was happy about it because I had a reason to cancel, but when I called Jenna and told her the “upsetting” news, she told me she’d come pick me up. Great.

So now I’ve been sitting on my front porch waiting for Jenna. After waiting for fifteen minutes I was close to just calling it quits and telling Jenna the fries from earlier made me throw up on myself. But, right when I stand up a dark sedan pulls into my driveway. Wait. I know that sedan. Damnit. Why the hell is Elijah here?

As if he could read my thoughts Elijah pretty much glides out of his car looking practically god-like in yet another five-thousand-dollar suit and smiles at me.

“Good evening, Elskan,” Elijah walks up the walkway to stand before me, “Miss. Sommers so kindly asked me if I could escort you to the dinner tonight. To which I happily obliged.”

“Right,” I sigh, “Let’s just get this night over with.”

I walk to Elijah’s car as he follows me, just like before he opens the door for me. I send him an appreciative nod and get in. After another moment we’re driving down the dark road towards the boarding house.

“You look breathtaking, Elskan,” Elijah says to me from his position in the driver’s seat.

“Thanks,” I turn to him and look at his usual attire, “You look the same.”

He chuckles, “Yes, you always seem to remind me of my attire. Thank you for that.”

“Always here to help.”

We drive in comfortable silence for the entirety of the trip until we get to the Salvatore’s driveway.

“How are you feeling about tonight,” Elijah’s tone is flat but as he looks at me his eyes are filled with what I believe to be suspicion.

“You mean, do I think something bad is going to happen?”

Elijah’s upper lip twitches, “Aren’t you a smart one? But yes, I am not going to threaten you Elskan. I would never do that, but,” At that, I’m tensing in my seat, “I need to know if your friends are planning something, unbecoming, tonight.”

At Elijah’s serious tone, I shake my head, “I don’t know anything. Promise,” Elijah doesn’t seem to be entirely pleased with my answer, and something in me wants to fix that, “But, I do know that Damon is not one to have friendly dinner parties so,” I look at him uneased but speak in a strong voice, “Be on your guard tonight.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Elskan.”

—

Elijah and I stand side by side as he knocks on the front door. We wait only a moment before a smirking Demon opens it up,

“Thank you both for coming,” Damon says a little too nicely, “Y/N don’t you look adorable. Come on in!”

Elijah places his hand on my lower back, “Just one moment. Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider.”

“No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just, uh, getting to know you.”

“Hmm, well, that’s good.”

“Yeah,” I watch this back and forth waiting for something bad to happen.

“Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal if you so much as make a move to cross me I’ll kill you and I’ll kill everyone in this house,” And there it is, “Except Y/N and Miss. Sommers of course. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” Damon eyes Elijah wearily. And then Elijah leads me into the house as Jenna enters the room.

“Jenna, wonderful to see you again. How are you?”

“I’m seriously getting whiplash from you man,” I whisper so only Elijah will hear. The only response I get is a slight squeeze to my waist as he pulls me closer and away from everyone else who has entered the room to greet us. His right-hand stays resting on my upper hip.

“Let’s eat.”

—

“I hate to break it to you, Damon,” Jenna says to Damon as she pours him a glass of wine, “But according to Elijah your family is so not a founder of this town.”

“Hmm, do tell,” Damon responds. Damon sits at the head of the table sipping his wine as he stares at Elijah, who is currently sitting next to me on my right. Alaric sits to my left and Jenna and Abby sit across from us. I should really learn her name. There’s also this balding white man who is sitting across from Damon at the other end of the table but no one here seems to want him here.

“Well, as I mentioned to Jenna earlier a faction of settlers migrated from Salem after the witch trial in the 1690s. Over the next hundred years, they developed this community where they could feel safe from persecution.”

“Hmm, because they were witches,” Jenna chimes in.

“Yeah, there’s no tangible proof there were witches in Salem.”

“Andies a journalist. Big on facts,” Oh, so that’s her name. I liked Andrea more.

“Well,” Elijah sets down his fork and starts talking again, “the lore says that there was this wave of anti-witch hysteria. It broke out in the neighboring settlement. So these witches were rounded up. They were tied to stakes in a field together and, uh, burned,” Elijah says as if it’s something anyone wants to hear while they’re eating steak dinner, “Some say you could hear the screams from miles around us. They were consumed by the fire. Could you pass the,” He gestures to the salt and Ric passes it to him wearily.

“I wouldn’t repeat this to the Historical Society,” Jenna says which has me wanting to roll my eyes at the mention of those bags.

“Maybe you should,” I say to myself but have seemed to catch the attention of the table. Shit.

“I’m just saying it would knock them down a peg, which is clearly needed,” I whisper out the last part, “Even though there is no proof of witches being burned at the stake during the trials. It was mostly done from self-drownings and using rocks.”

At my contradiction to Elijah’s statement he raises an eyebrow, “Is that so?”

“Self-drowning and rocks? How would that work,” Jenna questions with a slight stutter clearly having had a little too much wine.

“Well with the drowning it was more of a test,” I use fingerquotes at the word, “So to speak. The witch in question would be tossed into a body of water and if she was able to stay afloat she was condemned as a witch and was killed. But if she didn’t float, well. Y’know. So I mean either way it was just a way to punish women for being women. They used the rocks though to stone the people to death. Interestingly enough one of my ancestors was actually killed that way. R.I.P.”

I laugh at my little joke at the end which has earned me a few stares from the people at the table.

“Ok, moving past whatever that was,” Damon says as he turns back to Elijah, “So why do you want to know the location of these alleged massacres?”

Elijah thinks for a moment before smiling, “You know… a healthy historian’s curiosity, of course.”

“Of course,” Damon replies to Elijah who has already gone back to taking a bite out of his steak. I bring my glass of water to my lips and take a sip but start choking on it when I feel a hand gently grab my other one from under the table.

“Y/N! Are you ok,” Jenna exclaims from her side of the table as Ric pats me on the back, I put up a thumbs up and try to smile.

“Yep all good. Just,” I cough out a bit more, “went down the wrong pipe. Don’t mind me.”

Even though I almost choked, Elijah still hasn’t moved his hand from mine. Instead, his fingers have begun tracing shapes into my skin. I know I should feel disgusted, but I can’t seem to want to move his hand away. He looks at me momentarily as if to check I’m ok. To which I send him a small nod. This in return makes him smile and grab a hold of my hand more firmly now.

Damon's standing distracts me momentarily, “Does anyone care for some cognac? I have a bottle I’ve been saving for ages.”

God, me, please.

“None for me, thanks. Nine bottles of wine is my limit,” Alaric says as he downs yet another glass of wine. Jesus dude, try water sometime.

This has everyone standing from the table. Ok then, guess I’m done eating.

“The gentleman should take their drinks in the study,” Anna says.

“How 1950s of you Alice,” I smile at her sarcastically.

“My name is Andie,” She says back.

“Is that not what I said,” I smile at her as I walk past her into the study. I don’t even want to go in here with them but I’m doing it to stand on principle. And that I’m kind of an asshole. But that’s not my fault since I was awoken this morning before I was able to get my full 13 hours of shut eye.

—

My fingers graze the dozens of books I walk by as Damon and Elijah converse behind me. It surprises me that Damon has so many books, when he’s so dumb. Weird.

“Are these Stefan’s?”

Damon spares me a moment's glance, “No, they’re mine.”

I hum. Weird. Maybe he just doesn’t have comprehension skills.

“So, let me guess, in the addition to the moonstone, the doppelganger, the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe… You need to find this witch burial ground.”

“Because I feel as though we’ve grown so close, Damon,” Elijah’s words have me chuckling as I flip through a book that seems to be at least one hundred years old, “I’ll tell you yes. Do you know where it is?”

“Maybe,” Damon’s answer has Elijah walking over to him, “Tell me why it’s so important.”

“We’re not that close.”

Damon getting rejected has me snorting which catches Elijah’s attention as he smiles up to me. He notices the book I have in my hands and speaks again to Damon.

“It’s quite a collection you have here. It is a funny thing about books. Before they existed people actually had memories.”

I go to make a snarky comment at Elijah’s words but Ric comes storming into the study.

“Gentlemen,” I clear my throat and Ric looks at me, “And Y/N. We forgot about dessert.”

Addison comes over to Elijah and raises a hand for him to take, which has a nasty feeling starting in my gut. But before it goes too far Elijah turns to me instead and reaches out his own hand, “Y/N.”

I have to fight back a snort as we walk by Amelia Bedelia as Elijah leads me into the dining room where Jenna is.

“Sorry, guys, dessert is taking longer than I thought,” Jenna’s words have me physically deflating, “I usually just unwrap food.”

Elijah leads me to a chair and moves it so I can sit down. He sits next to me and Audrey sits across from us.

“So, I know this is a social thing but I, I would really love to ask you some more questions about the work that you’re doing here,” She asks Elijah who agrees. I’m quite interested in what he’s going to say since he’s created this big lie surrounding, Elijah Smith.

“Great,” She continues as Damon enters the room, “Oh, that’s so great. Ric, would you do me a favor and grab the notebook out of my bag?”

She instructs Ric as Elijah’s hand finds its way back to my hand.

“Elijah, did John tell you that he’s Elena’s uncle/father?’’

Damon’s question has me sitting up right.

“Huh?!”

I look between Damon and the balding man next to me and wonder how he was able to produce a girl as pretty as Elena. Also now I’m pissed and kind of sad no one has told me this before.

“Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Even Elijah knows?!

“Of course, she hates him, so there’s absolutely no need to keep him on the endangered species list.”

Now I don’t feel bad for thinking he looked like Charlie Brown earlier.

Adeline says something to Ric but now my full focus is on Elijah's fingers which are now grazing up and down my hand that lays on my thigh.

I can hear Dead Beat saying something to Elijah but the words won’t focus as I try to calm my breathing. Elijah’s deep voice enters my ears as I hear him threatening the two men but the soft touching hasn’t gone away.

I’m almost comforted by the feeling now until the once soothing feeling is replaced by his hand crushing my thigh. My yells are mixed with what I’ve just now realized are Elijah’s as he crunches up in pain. A loud scream escapes my lips as I see a dagger protruding from Elijah’s back and can only watch in horror and pain as Elijah’s once soft and light skin turns to grey and veining flesh.

I blink rapidly as everyone moves around me but all I can focus on is Elijah’s dead body. Dead. Elijah’s dead. Oh god.

I feel someone grab my upper arm and drag me out of my seat, “What’s wrong with you?”

My breathing halts. My vision goes black and, my body hits the floor.

639 notes · View notes

solbaby7 · 2 months ago

Note

I love the blurb bar idea and I loved the pina colada one, how about a neat gin n tonic with a salt rim?

[ forced proximity: “you can’t seriously be insinuating that i should sit on your lap.” + smut + az ]

guys i got carried away 🫣🤭 but at least it’s finished and has minimal spelling errors 🤍🩷

-> BLURB BAR <-

To put it quite frankly, you and Azriel didn’t really get along.

It seemed almost easy for everyone else in the Inner Circle to latch onto him; to gravitate towards him and all his shadowy mysteriousness—but not you. Between his victim complex, lack of self-control and the inability to properly communicate his feelings like a normal person, you’d lost your patience for him long ago.

Maybe that’s why you laugh right in Rhysand’s face after he lays down the guidelines for your temporary deployment to the Steppes. Everything sounds perfectly normal up until the end when Rhysand’s lips form the words, “—and you’ll be going with Azriel; he’s already been briefed.”

“Very funny,” Shoulders shake through your laughter, tickled from the joke. “But, you don’t have to go to such lengths just to make me laugh Rhys.”

Your grin fades comically fast and the deep frown that takes it place doesn’t falter long after you’ve left the High Lord’s office and scrounged back to your own chambers to pack. Every move is mechanical, clothes being folded and stuffed away a little rougher than necessary as you try not to think about having to spend seven whole days holed up in a creaky cabin with some brooding bat.

To be fair, Azriel seems no happier than you about the situation, his signature brood securely in place when you meet on the balcony at the witching hour with bag in hand. “Come—let’s get this over with.”

You refrain from commenting on his attitude; hold yourself back from snapping when he snatches your duffle from your grasp just to watch it disappear in a puff of sentient shadow. They’d almost be cute—Azriel’s shadows—if they weren’t so fucking useless. Capable of procuring intel and acting as camouflage but can’t manage to hold two fae long enough to get them to the Illyrian mountains.

No, instead you were subjected to this. Close contact and his fucking hands holding onto your body as he flies on a route you’re unfamiliar with. You eye his wings cautiously, trying to be subtle when you peek over the strong line of his shoulder but being this close? He can feel every beat of your heart against your sternum. Every squirm and twitch of a limb as you try to find a more comfortable place to put your arm. “Will you stop moving?”

“I can’t help it,” Hips shift once more, one leg hitching just a little higher on his hip. “Your fucking daggers keep poking me.”

Azriel tenses up, muscles locking and suddenly you’re being moved how he pleases—both legs wrapped around his waist and a firm forearm clasped around the base of your spine. “Stay.” His voice is rougher than your used to, his blunt nails biting into the sliver of skin exposed to the elements. “Don’t move, we’re almost there.”

That was a lie—it would take hours to make it to the Steppes but the gruff command is surprisingly easy to follow. And while you’ll never verbally admit it, the secure bracketing of his arms around your body was more of a comfort than a nuisance. It’s all too easy to ease into his grasp, allowing sleep to take over until the journeys over and you swear you can feel him cradle you in closer, his nose ghosting over the crown of your head.

He makes absolutely no comment on it when you finally arrive with your hair ruffled, clothes crinkled and the imprint of Azriel’s syphon on your cheek other than a chuffed out, “You snore.”

Instinct screams at you to make some snappy comment back but reason doesn’t allow it to be voiced—not here. Here, you and Azriel would have to appear as a united front, for the males raised in this terrain were bred to sniff out any and all weaknesses to exploit. Only here do you allow the hand that permanently glues itself to the dip of your back, pushing you past rabid animals swollen with pride and snarling with hatred.

Slurs are spat from their lips but Azriel doesn’t pay them any mind, so you don’t either.

He walks through the camps as if he owns them, spine straight and shoulders square. Strong wings stand proudly behind him, shadows guarding your flank until the unforgiving chill is replaced by the stuffy warmth of a mess hall. It’s cramped—a little dirty and smells like a mixture of male and tobacco but either way you’re given a warm meal and fresh water to drink.

The vulgar comments grow more frequent, mutterings of their unwanted appreciation towards your body so sickening that your appetite threatens to scurry away. “They’re disgusting.” You scoff, setting down your tray of food, one hand curled around the chair.

It doesn’t give. Azriel’s boot curled around the leg holds it in place. Arched brows furrow at him, nose scrunching under the effort it takes not to kick him in his shin but there’s something about his body language that make you stop. “They’ll keep doing that shit if they think you’re free game.” Every syllable is clipped; laced with a wildness you’re unfamiliar with—almost as if he’s insinuating that it’s your fault that such brutish males were salivating at the sight of you. Darkness cloaks the hazel tones of his eyes when he meets your own and you nearly miss the gesture he makes.

One hand patting twice at his lap.

“Absolutely not.” Azriel’s boot shoves the seat away completely when you make a move to sit down on it once more. He settles deeper in his own, thick thighs manspreading as deft hands adjust the positioning of his holsters, guiding sharpened weapons away from the area of space he frees up for you. “You can’t seriously be insinuating that I should sit on your lap?”

“I’m not insinuating anything, this is me telling you—sit down.”

You pray he doesn’t see the blush that burns against your cheeks when you take a seat in his lap, his hands resting along the sides of your hips. He keeps eating as if nothing is new. As if he doesn’t realize the way his touch has you squirming against solid muscle through thick leathers, legs subconsciously parting to make more room for the wandering fingers that slide down your thighs, digging into sensitive inner thighs. “What are you doing?” You ask, barely able to grab at the food before you with the way your hands shake.

“I’m sending a message.”

Breath catches when you feel Azriel’s thigh flex between your legs, pressing against your sex in such a way that you’re certain it’s impossible that he hadn’t felt the way you clench in response. “What kind of message?”

“The kind that says someone already owns you.” People are looking, that much you know—can feel their eyes tracking every move. Azriel’s hand splayed over your stomach, his head tucked in the curve of your shoulder as his free hand spies its way through your breeches. There’s a pause, one where you’re time to push him away, to declare that this was entirely too far and smack him clear across his face.

That doesn’t happen. Your legs only part further, making more room for needy fingers to shove past your panties.

It’s a foolish decision, you can feel it the second you make it. As if you’d just unconsciously confirmed the ridiculous notion that you were one of Azriel’s possessions. To do as he pleased. To sit there splayed out across his lap like some puppet and allow him to take the reins and show off all your tricks until you’re boneless and drooling.

He’s too good with his hands. Too slick with the sly filth he mutters into your ear as he fondles at your clit under the table, pressing firm circles into the bundle of nerves until you’re panting like a bitch in heat.

You barely remember how much you hate him when he touches you like this. Until the orgasm fades and your consciousness clears and even though the way you lean into the dip of his neck appears like some typical lovers embrace—bystanders fail to hear the sharp way you sneer, “Tell anyone about this ever and I’ll fucking kill you.”

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physalian · 8 months ago

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What No one Tells You about Writing Fantasy, #2!

I did this list about 7 annoyances about fantasy, but I write in this genre for a reason! Fantasy knows no bounds, it can encompass all other genres within it. You can write a fantastical murder mystery, fantasy horror, fantasy romance, political drama, slice-of-life, comedy, whatever you’d like!

Whether it’s urban or high fantasy, supernatural or scientific, here’s seven great benefits of writing in this genre:

1. No modern means of communication

Unless you’re writing a world with phones or phone-adjacent devices. Phones and instant communication seriously inhibits the plausibility of dramatic irony and tension when you have to keep coming up with reasons to keep your characters from calling or texting each other everything they know. It’s exhausting, I tell you, and such a relief when phones aren’t a factor.

With that said, without phones, you have complete freedom to design your own magical channels of supernatural FaceTime, as weird and zany as you want. But without instant connections? Your character who knew too much can’t pass on the intel before they die. Your hero team can’t call for backup in their darkest hour. Otherwise easily preventable tragedies and deadly miscommunications are now very real.

2. The Monster Allegory

Fantasy and sci-fi tend to overlap more than they’re set apart, and in that overlap sits the monster allegory. Everything from werewolves to vampires to witches, reapers, demons, angels, goblins, trolls, wraiths, fairies, mermaids, ghosts, to Eldritch horrors and your classic Hollywood cast of mummies, creatures from the black lagoon, and Frankenstein.

Most of the time, the monsters aren’t just monsters, they represent a monstrous aspect of society the author wants to challenge and caricaturize in a fun and entertaining way. Or, the monsters are the good guys and the humans are the real terrors. Or, you’ve got two kinds of monsters to allegory two human sides. Sometimes they represent metaphorical demons, like vampires often representing addiction and werewolves repressed identities.

What all of this boils down to is the hyperbolic nature of science fantasy that allows you to go over-the-top with your metaphor and allegory in a way that a book grounded in reality just can’t.

3. Magic Systems!

Do you love world building? Do you love filling pages upon pages with your cool and unique set of superpowers you want your characters to have? Do you dream about your fight scenes and dramatic slow-mo shots?

Then Fantasy is for you!

There are zero limits to how you want to define your magic system. You can go classic with the familiar archetypes of elemental magic, wizards, sorcerers, and witches. Or you can step off the beaten path and design a whole new funky system of power sets. Best part? Your readers will have an awesome time imagining themselves with those powers, and debating endlessly about how it works.

4. Real-World Politics, who?

Amazon’s Rings of Power was twice-doomed when they only got the rights to adapt the appendices of The Silmarillion and when they decided to inject current political problems into a timeless story written purposefully to be divorced from those politics. You *can* write about human politics, but in fantasy, you don’t have to. You *can* interpret Lord of the Rings to be an allegory about the World Wars, but no matter how hard you argue, it wasn’t written with that intent.

Which means: Even if your story is set in the reality-adjacent fantasy version of 1543, you are free from the following: Racism, homophobia, sexism, religious bigotry, mental health bigotry, gender norms, anti-feminism, toxic masculinity, and more. “But that’s how it was-”

Nope. This is fantasy. You built this world, you decided to keep in the discrimination. Or… You can fill your fantasy world with a rainbow of gays, POCs in power, women in power, men unafraid to be compassionate and caring, a religion that doesn’t foster hate and division, the list goes on. You. Are. Free.

5. Nothing is too “unrealistic”

Both that you will always have people whining about how X would never happen so write the book you want to read, but also because fantasy is fake. Fairies aren’t real. Mermaids aren’t real. There are no rules for how they must be written and that’s how we have so much variety with so much room for interpretation by so many creators. Twilight made how much money writing about vampires that sparkle like diamonds in sunlight and crack like marble?

This is fantasy, it’s supposed to be unrealistic. Yes, your plot should make sense, but don’t be afraid to get weird. Write at least some of your story dependant on those fantasy elements. Write a story that can’t just be told in the real world minus the spectacle. Don’t be afraid to be sincerely fantastical and weird. People love weird. People love loving weird.

6. You are in complete control

But you do still need to research, unfortunately. Unless this is urban fantasy that depends at least a little on the human world, yours is completely your own to govern like a god tweezing weeds from their garden. You get to design your own geography and weather patterns and seasons. Your own countries and kingdoms and politicians. Your epic pre-canon fantasy war and the stakes that it was fought over. Your species, races, and ethnicities.

It’s a shame that a movie like Avatar (2009) set out to be this wholly unique take on aliens with music completely divorced from earthly bonds, new languages and a visually and culturally distinct alien species… and ended up a largely generic blue Pocahontas in space. It forgot that it was fantasy and didn’t go weird enough. They have horses, monkeys, wolves, rhinos, and deer just re-skinned with some extra limbs and colors. It’s pretty but it’s so, so shallow.

It could have become a cult classic like many a positively *weird* 80s off-beat fantasies, and now it just… exists. It makes a whole lot of money but its impact on the cultural zeitgeist is negligible. I’m the only person I know that can name every major character in the movie, and I’m no Avatar obsessor. They had complete creative control, and this is what they did with it. Don’t be Avatar. Take your creative freedom and run.

7. Even if it has been done before, do it again

You can say this about any genre, particularly romance, but fantasy and sci-fi, by the gatekeep-y nature of their fans, can be a lot less forgiving when it comes to claims of “unoriginality”. No one hates Star Wars more than Star Wars fans. Fans of these genres can get… concerningly attached to their favorite stories (mostly because the people who like them had only their fictional heroes to protect them from very real bullies).

But Game of Thrones exists because the author likes Lord of the Rings and went “yes, but what if it was an R-rated parade of misery?” Dungeons and Dragons exists because people wanted to roleplay in an LotR-esque world. Legolas and Gimli single-handedly defined what a badass elf and dwarf looks like in high fantasy. And people still gobble up media ripping shamelessly, or even good-naturedly, from this one story.

So on my other list, I argued that the sum of your parts is still original, even if the components aren’t. On this list, I implore you this: It’s not stealing or appropriating to write another Legolas if you love Legolas. Everyone loves Legolas. How many generic buff action heroes do we have and love? How many Hallmark romances tread the same predictable path? Who gives a damn if it’s unoriginal? Just make it entertaining and have something fresh to say in the end (or don’t, that’s fine too), and people will read it.

And when people say “Oh, you mean like Legolas”, take it as a compliment, not an insult. Yes, exactly like Legolas. Here’s my new elf because I adore this other book, now watch him go on a new adventure that I wrote for him.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #fantasy #scifi #writeblr #writing #what no one tells you about writing

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sadnymi · 6 months ago

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「 ✦ I can fix him ( No really I can ). ✦ 」

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Summary:Y/n's obsession with Mattheo was evident; she stalked him everywhere, daydreamed about him, and planned ways to get his attention. However, even though he said he hated her, his actions didn’t quite align with those words.

Warnings: stalker!reader , unhinged!reader,obsessed!reader, misunderstood with anger issues reader too! +16 , strong language.

Words: 4.5k

The air hung thick with the smell of spilled Butterbeer and desperation. Wedged into a corner booth of theLeaky Cauldron, I felt like a fish out of water, albeit a very determined fish. My friends, Lily and Anthony, slumped beside me,faces pale and glassy-eyed.

They were the studious type, the kind who'd rather spend a Friday night poring over Herbology textbooks than navigating the dimly lit chaos of this questionable bar. But here they were, martyrs to my grand plan.

My obsession with Mattheo riddle wasn't a recent development. It had blossomed, nurtured by stolen glances across the Great Hall and late-night eavesdropping during our Hogwarts years. Sure, it bordered on stalkerish – I knew his favorite Quidditch teams, the brand of broomstick polish he swore by, even the obscure runes tattooed discreetly on his forearm. But hey,love knew no bounds, right? Well, at least that's what I kept telling myself.

"Y/N, for Merlin's sake," Lily muttered, her voice barely a whisper above the din of drunken wizard gossip, "can't we please go back to Hogwarts? My eyelids are heavier than a dragon's hide after a full moon."

I shook my head firmly, my gaze scanning the sea of faces. "Not yet," I hissed, the anticipation bubbling in my chest. "He should be here any minute."

"He who?" Anthony mumbled, his head lolling against the worn leather of the booth.

"Mattheo, of course!" I exclaimed, my voice a touch louder than necessary. Heads swiveled in our direction, and I quickly ducked my head, mortified.

"Y/N," Anthony sighed, "I can't believe you dragged us all the way out here for a guy who wouldn't recognize you if you levitated naked in front of him."

"He will," I declared, a stubborn glint in my eyes. "Just wait and see." I straightened my robes, trying to project an air of confidence that I definitely wasn't feeling.

As if on cue, the door to the Leaky Cauldron creaked open, and a wave of boisterous laughter flooded the bar. My breath hitched. There he was. Handsome as sin, his black hair tousled, A mischievous grin playing on his lips. He was everything I ever dreamt of and more.

A collective groan escaped my friends' lips as they followed my gaze.

He scanned the room, his gaze sweeping right past my carefully constructed hiding place. "Oh, lord help her," Lily muttered, her voice laced with a mixture of amusement and resignation.

I forced a dazzling smile, willing him to notice me. But alas, he remained oblivious, his attention captured by a group of giggling witches at the bar.

"Show some respect to my man," I declared, though Mattheo was still blissfully unaware of my existence.

"He's not your man, Y/N," Anthony pointed out, stating the very obvious.

"Not yet," I corrected, my smile widening. "But he will be."

They both shook their heads, exasperation etched on their faces. "Y/N," Lily hissed, her ethereal voice taking on a surprisingly stern tone, "do you have any idea what you're talking about?"

I clamped a hand over her mouth "I can fix him," I whispered, my eyes fixed on Mattheo.

My friends erupted in laughter, the sound harsh and grating in the smoky bar. "No, seriously, I can!" I insisted, but they just kept shaking their heads.

"I can't take this anymore," she declared, her voice ringing clear. "Y/N, you're delusional, and Anthony and I are enabling you. This ends now. We're going back to Hogwarts."

"Fine, go," I muttered, my eyes still glued to Matteo. "But I'm staying for a while."

The Leaky Cauldron door creaked shut behind them, leaving me alone in a sea of unfamiliar faces and swirling rumors. I nursed my lukewarm Butterbeer, stealing glances at Mattheo across the room. He was lost in conversation with his friends, his laughter tinged with an edge I couldn't quite place.

A shadow fell across my table, and I looked up to find a burly wizard with a sly grin. "Mind if I join you, pretty lady? My treat."

I shook my head politely, my gaze still fixed on Mattheo. "Thank you, but I'm waiting for someone."

He persisted, leaning in uncomfortably close. But before I could politely dismiss him again, a loud booming voice cut through the bar's cacophony.

It was Mattheo, his handsome features contorted in a scowl. He said something that made his friends erupted in laughter, egging him on. A secret smile played on my lips. There he was, the same arrogant, trouble-seeking Mattheo I'd known at Hogwarts.

As his laughter died down, his eyes scanned the room, landing me. A flicker of surprise, then recognition, crossed his face.

He nudged his friends aside, striding towards my table with a swagger. Just as he reached me, he punched a nearby table sending the unsuspecting wizard sitting next to me flying in the air. He landed with a thud on a group of unsuspecting patrons, who shrieked in surprise.

My heart hammered in my chest. This was it. The darkness in his eyes – I knew that look. At Hogwarts, it always meant trouble. And with wands banned outside of school grounds, trouble often meant a good old-fashioned fistfight.

Mattheo reached me, his eyes narrowed. He glanced at the groaning wizard on the floor, then back at me. "Is he dead?" I asked, smiling.

My gaze darted between Mattheo and the dazed wizard. The words died in my throat as he grabbed my arms, his grip surprisingly tight.

"Who are you?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

My carefully crafted facade threatened to crumble. Maybe my years of stalking – stalking? Observing! - hadn't been as effective as I'd hoped.

"Y/N," I stammered, my voice barely a squeak. "We have… two classes together… last year… remember?" I threw out the first things that came to mind, hoping to jog his memory.

He looked at me with raised eyebrows, a skeptical expression etched on his face. But before he could respond, he grabbed my arm again, his grip firm, and pulled me towards the bar's dimly lit exit.

"Okay, that's… kinda kinky," I blurted out. He stopped in his tracks, his mouth agape, as if unsure how to react to my strange comment.

"So… are you kidnapping me?" I continued, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. "Honestly, I wouldn't mind. I just wanted to know you better!"

He stared at me, incredulous. "A date first, wouldn't you say?" I added, a playful smile on my face.

Instead of replying, he pushed me against a wall, his frustration palpable. "Okay, that's a weird way to propose," I declared, a strange mix of excitement and fear bubbling in my chest. "But yes!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he said, his face inches from mine.

My mind was a whirlwind. He was close, impossibly close, and I couldn't think straight. But then again, I never could when it came to Mattheo Riddle.

"A lot of things," I mumbled, my voice barely audible. "So, which one are we talking about right now?"

His grip on my neck tightened, restricting my breath. Fear finally pierced through the haze of my infatuation. "Who sent you?" he spat. "I know you've been watching me since the beginning of the year. Tell me who sent you, or you're dead."

Dead? He thought I was a stalker, someone sent to spy on him? The truth was far more embarrassing – and much more obsessive. "Ouch," I croaked, trying to lighten the mood. "No one sent me.

He stared at me, his brow furrowed in disbelief. "Excuse me?"

"I love watching people," I blurted out, a lame attempt at an explanation. His hand tightened around my neck, cutting off my air supply. I choked back a gasp, opting not to struggle.

"You are really into a lot of things," I wheezed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"This isn't a damn game," he growled, his face inches from mine. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

"I know," I rasped. "And I'm telling you, no one sent me."

"So you just happen to be everywhere I'm in? Watching my every move is just a coincidence?"

"I do watch you," I confessed, meeting his gaze. The closeness was intoxicating, the scent of his cologne filling my senses.

"I, uh, I like you a lot and…" I stumbled over the words, my voice failing me.

He cut me off with a harsh laugh. "You like me a lot? So you just decide to stalk me?"

"Well, it's not… well, fine, yeah, but it wasn't that creepy, I swear!" I protested, flustered under his scrutiny.

"Go back to the castle. What did you say your name was? Y/N? Go back to the castle, and if I ever, ever saw you doing that again, I won't be this kind."

His words stung, a cold reality check washing over me. Yeah, maybe my grand plan of charming Mattheo hadn't gone exactly as planned.

"What if I don't want to?" I blurted out, blinking back tears I refused to let fall.

He sighed, frustration written all over his face. "Listen here," he said, pointing a finger between us. "This – this is not going to happen. Ever."

"Ever?" I echoed, a tiny voice in my head pleading with me to accept defeat.

He nodded. "Ever."

Just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, a ridiculous statement popped out of my mouth.

"Well, I don't think so," I said, a playful smile replacing my tearful expression. "I think one day you'll be so in love with me you'll beg me to be with you."

Matteo's response was a hearty laugh. "Yeah? And what makes you think that?"

"Delusional, maybe?" I replied, mirroring his smile.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he finally released his grip on my neck. "Go back to the castle, Y/N," he repeated, his voice softer now. "I won't say that again."

I nodded, a bittersweet feeling settling in my stomach. "Yes, sir," I quipped, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

"What did you just call me?"

"Sir?" I repeated, a full smile blooming on my face.

"Don't you ever call me that again," he said, pushing his hair back in frustration.

"Fine, fine, I'm going," Stepping back. "But you know," I added, turning back to him, "being controlling isn't very healthy in a relationship." And with that I walked away the look in his eyes enough to make me run for my life.

A week crawled by. Every snide remark from Lily and Anthony about my "delusional crush" felt like another blow to my already bruised ego. Yet, a strange sense of pride bubbled beneath the hurt. I'd talked to Mattheo Riddle, gotten under his skin even. A win, as I kept telling myself.

The first time I saw him in the Great Hall after the bar incident, my heart did a somersault. He was across the room, his usual smirk plastered on his face as he bantered with his friends. But then, our eyes met. His gaze lingered for a fraction of a second longer than felt comfortable, and I quickly looked away, cheeks burning. Had he told his friends about the crazy stalker girl (me)? My stomach twisted in a knot.

Days blurred into one another, punctuated by stolen glances at Matteo in the Great Hall, Potions class, and even the Quidditch pitch (though I swore I wasn't there to see him play). Every time I felt his gaze on me, a wave of nervous excitement followed by a mad dash to the nearest deserted corridor. My behavior was erratic, even by my own standards.

Did that mean anything? Maybe. But probably not.

Dinner was a disaster. Every time I met Matteo's gaze, a jolt of excitement shot through me, followed by a wave of crippling anxiety. My hands trembled as I held my fork, and I managed to knock over my glass of pumpkin juice. A mortified squeak escaped my lips, and I felt the entire hall turn to stare.

I saw Mattheo. He smirked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. My mortification reached new heights.

I whispered to Lily. "I need to get out of here."

She nodded "Go," she mouthed.

Was I crazy? Obsessed? My friends were right. This was ridiculous. I couldn't keep acting like a lovesick fool.

Today professor Flitwick's voice echoed through the Charms classroom, "Today, we'll be practicing the Patronus Charm in pairs! Choose your partners wisely, as teamwork is crucial."

My heart skipped a beat. Partnering with anyone was nerve-wracking, but the thought of working with Mattheo sent a shiver down my spine. Of course, fate seemed to have a twisted sense of humor.

Just as I was about to pair with Anthony, Professor Flitwick called out, "Y/N (L/N) and Mr. Riddle, you'll be a fantastic team!"

Mattheo raised a questioning eyebrow, and I swear, I could hear the unspoken accusation, "Stalking me even into Charms class now?"

I held his gaze, a wry smile playing on my lips. "I swear I had no hand in this. Total coincidence."

Matteo leaned back in his chair, scanning me from head to toe with a slow, infuriating gaze. "Brave, are we?" he drawled, his voice a low rumble.

"I know," I countered, a playful smile tugging at my lips.

"Actually," I continued, unable to resist, "this isn't the first time we've worked together in a class."

He scoffed. "Don't remember."

"Of course not," I muttered, a wry smile playing on my lips. "It was third year, Herbology, Professor Sprout gave us…"

Before I could finish, he cut me off. "Nope, still drawing a blank."

"Right," I said, pushing down a surge of disappointment.

We spent the next hour working on the charm. To Matteo's surprise, I grasped the Patronus concept quickly, flawlessly conjuring a shimmering silver stag. His own attempt sputtered out, a wisp of smoke.

"You're smart," he finally admitted, a surprised glint in his eyes.

"Yeah," I replied, a playful glint in my eyes, "I was a bit of a gifted child."

"Was?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Burnt out," I explained with a shrug. "Turns out being brilliant can be a drag."

A strange silence fell between us. He held my gaze for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.

"You're so annoying," he finally said, his voice gruff.

"So you keep saying," I retorted, a smile spreading across my face. "And yet, here you are, looking at me like you don't hate my guts."

He averted his gaze, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I don't like you," he mumbled.

"Whatever," I said, a mischievous glint in my eyes. "We're done, Professor!" I called out, grabbing my bag.

As I turned to leave, I couldn't resist one last look at him. He met my gaze, a smirk playing on his lips.

The following week felt like a bizarre role reversal. After our unexpected partnership in Charms class, Mattheo seemed to be the one doing the observing. It was a subtle shift, almost imperceptible to anyone else, but I felt it like a brand new tattoo – the intensity of his gaze burning into the back of my head whenever I wasn't looking.

It started subtly. During Defense Against the Dark Arts, I caught him staring at me from across the room as Professor Moody droned on about Unforgivable Curses. His gaze lingered a beat too long before he quickly averted his eyes, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

During lunch, I was engrossed in a lively conversation with Lily when I felt a familiar prickle on the back of my neck.Looking up, I saw Mattheo seated at the Slytherin table, a half-eaten sandwich abandoned in his plate . He met my gaze for the briefest of moments before scoffing and turning away to talk to Blaise Zabini.

Today as I trudged back to the castle after visiting Honeydukes. Lost in thought about the latest sugar concoction they were offering, I almost missed him. A flash of dark hair disappearing into the Forbidden Forest, followed by a flicker of red – blood.

My heart hammered in my chest. Was I imagining things? No, it was definitely blood. Curiosity, or perhaps something more, gnawed at me. Ignoring the voice of caution in my head, I veered off the path and followed him.

He emerged from the trees a short distance away, heading towards a small, ramshackle house nestled amidst the thick undergrowth. I watched from behind a large oak, my breath catching in my throat. He stumbled slightly as he reached the door, his face pale and drawn.

I should have turned around then, just left him to his secrets. But something held me rooted to the spot. A primal urge to help, a need to know what was going on.

Taking a deep breath, I approached the house, my hand hovering over the knocker. This was crazy. What if he was hurt? What if he was in trouble with someone dangerous?

The door creaked open before I could knock. Mattheo stood there, his face contorted in a mixture of surprise and anger. There was no mistaking it this time – his face was streaked with blood, and it seemed to be coming from a nasty gash on his forehead. But that wasn't all. Blood stained his clothes in several places, and a dark smear marred his cheek.

He looked like he'd been in a war.

"So, another fight?" I managed, my voice barely a squeak.

"I thought I told you to stop following me," he growled, his voice hoarse.

"I wasn't," I blurted out, ignoring the tremor in my voice. "I was just coming back from Honeydukes, and then I saw you…"

He rolled his eyes, but I could tell the anger was fading, replaced by a weariness that mirrored my own. Taking a chance, I stepped closer, ignoring the frantic beating of my heart.

"Let me help you," I said, my voice surprisingly steady. "You can't go back to the castle like that."

He stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, with a sigh, he nodded. "There's a first-aid kit in the back," he muttered, stepping aside.

I pushed past him, following his directions, I found the kit and rummaged inside.

Taking a deep breath, I shrugged off my jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair. The only light came from a single dusty window, casting long shadows across the room. Mattheo sat on the bed.

Silence hung heavy in the air as I knelt beside him. First, I cleaned the cut on his hand, the antiseptic sting making him wince.

The silence in the room was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my shallow breaths. Finally, I reached his face, the most serious injury – a deep gash above his eyebrow.

Gently, I dabbed at the blood with a damp cloth, my movements slow and precise. As I cleaned the wound around his lips, I found myself looking directly into his eyes. They were a dark storm, swirling with emotions I couldn't decipher.

Suddenly, I was acutely aware of my position – kneeling between his legs, my gaze locked with his. "Good boy, all done," I whispered, my voice barely above a squeak. His breath hitched, hot against my face.

Then, a touch. His fingers brushed my cheek, sending a jolt of electricity through me. We were impossibly close, his gaze flickering between my lips and my eyes.

"What are you doing?" I stammered, barely recognizing my own voice.

"I don't know," he admitted.

Before I could react further, his lips were on mine. igniting a passion that had been building for so long.

His hands moved possessively to my waist, pulling me flush against his body.as our kiss deepened.

He pulled back abruptly, pushing me gently onto the bed.. "You taste so good," he murmured against my lips, his breath hot against my skin. "You’ve been driving me insane."

“ what spell did you cost on me ?”

I couldn't help but smile against his lips. "No spell, just pure chemistry," I whispered back, my fingers tangling in his hair. This was everything I'd imagined and more.

His hands roamed over my body, trailing fire across my skin, igniting a passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long. "Say you want me to stop," he rasped, his voice thick with desire.

But the words wouldn't come. I arched into his touch, my heart pounding with anticipation. "I don't want you to stop," I urged, my breath hitching as his lips trailed down my neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

His touch was electric, sending shivers down my spine. "I won't," he promised, his voice filled with a hunger that matched my own.

Just then, the world exploded around us. The front door creaked open, throwing harsh sunlight into the dusty room. Mattheo and I scrambled apart, guilt and confusion flooding my face.

"Well, first of all, what the hell? I thought you hated her," Blaise Zabini drawled from the doorway, his eyes wide with surprise. He shifted his gaze to Mattheo, a smirk playing on his lips. "How can you still get energy after that fight, Riddle?"

Heat flooded my cheeks as I scrambled to gather my things. "I have to go," I mumbled, my voice strangled.

Mattheo remained silent, his gaze fixed on me. Did he want me to stay? Did he...?

I couldn't bear to wait for an answer. As I rushed towards the door, I couldn't resist a final act of defiance. Stepping on Blaise's shoe with all my might, I gave him a withering look before exiting the ramshackle house.

I heard Blaise's surprised yelp “ She’s fucking crazy, man” followed by Matteo's low chuckle. A strange sense of satisfaction washed over me.

With a final shove, I pushed the rickety door shut behind me, heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Blaise's bewildered face was the last thing I saw before I was plunged into the cool evening air. My cheeks burned with a mixture of embarrassment and a thrilling, exhilarating heat.

The sound of Blaise's voice, laced with confusion, drifted out from the house. "Didn't you say you hated her or something?"

A tense silence followed. Then, I heard it – Mattheo's voice, low and gravelly. I held my breath, straining to hear his answer.

"Yes," he said, a single word that echoed in the stillness of the forest. "I still do."

A wave of disappointment washed over me, so strong it took my breath away. It all meant nothing. He still hated me.

Closing my eyes, I forced myself to move. My legs felt heavy, but I stumbled away from the house, deeper into the darkening forest. Maybe my friends were right. Maybe this whole obsessive crush had been a complete delusion.

The following days were a masterclass in avoidance.My mission was clear – steer far, far away from Mattheo Riddle.

If I saw him sauntering down the hallway, I'd take a sharp turn into the nearest classroom, even if it meant enduring Professor Sprout's droning lecture on Mimbulus Mimbletonia for the fifth time.

Corridors became obstacle courses, as I scanned for his familiar dark hair, taking circuitous routes if I even suspected he might be lurking around a corner.

Tucked away in a secluded corner, surrounded by fragrant lavender and plump pumpkins, I finally pulled out the letter from home.

The familiar parchment felt heavy in my hand. Taking a deep breath, I unfolded the letter and started to read. It was a glowing report on my brother, praising his achievements at the Ministry and lauding his "brilliant mind." A bitter laugh escaped my lips. Of course. My brother, the golden child, the one who could do no wrong.

As I continued reading, the praise seemed to morph into a subtle criticism of me. There was no mention of my academic achievements, no congratulations on my recent Charms O.W.L.s. Just a vague allusion to my "potential" and a gentle reminder to "follow in my brother's footsteps."

Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the words on the page. Anger bubbled up inside me, hot and fierce. Why were they always so focused on him? Didn't they see me? Didn't they see how hard I tried?

Pushing the frustrations down, I wiped my tears with a vicious swipe.

Just as I was about to crumple up the letter, a familiar voice startled me. "Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"

Mattheo stood before me, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. I whipped my head up, startled. The mocking smile I'd planned faltered slightly.

"Well, hello there, Riddle," I managed, a slight tremor in my voice.

He ignored my shaky greeting, his gaze fixed on my tear-streaked face. He knelt down beside me, his hand reaching out to gently touch mine. Before I could pull away, he brushed a stray tear from my cheek.

"Answer me," he pressed, his voice gentle. "Did someone hurt you?"

I managed a watery laugh."Do you think anyone could actually hurt me?"

"I think they'd regret the day they were born if they tried," he said fiercely, his thumb brushing away another tear.

A choked laugh bubbled up in my throat. He pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

"Why are you avoiding me?" he finally asked, his voice low and serious.

"Didn't that seem to be what you wanted all this time?" I retorted, my defenses slowly crumbling under his genuine concern.

He shook his head, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. "But it never stopped you before, did it?"

"You hate me," I stated, forcing the words out, hoping to maintain some semblance of control.

He met my gaze, a surprising warmth melting away the usual façade. "Of course I do," he said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Then why are you here, caring so much for someone who claims to hate them?" I challenged, my voice trembling slightly.

He leaned in closer, his voice a mere whisper. "Well, I don't hate you. In fact, I kind of missed you these past few days. You really know how to mess with a man's head, L/N."

My breath caught in my throat. Mattheo held my gaze, his hand still gently cupping mine.

"So?" he drawled, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Am I forgiven, or should I do that dramatic monologue you conjured up that night?"

The urge to laugh was overwhelming. His teasing, that infuriatingly familiar smirk – it felt strangely comforting after the emotional rollercoaster of the past few moments. Instead of a witty retort, I leaned in and surprised even myself by kissing him.

He responded instantly, his kiss deepening with a fervor that stole my breath away.

"That would be nice," I mumbled against his lips when we finally broke apart, "but right now, this will do." I reached up and cupped his face, my fingers tracing the sharp angles of his jaw. "This," I whispered, "is more than enough."

He pulled me closer, his hand reaching up to explore the curve of my back. The kiss was different this time, slow and languid

His hand found its way under my skirt, sending a jolt of heat through me. He pulled me closer, setting me on his lap.

"What the…" a voice cut through the charged atmosphere. We both pulled away, startled, to find Blaise Zabini standing there, his jaw hanging open in a comical display of shock.

Heat flooded my cheeks "I'm going to kill him," I whispered to mattheo.

"I'd help you hide the body,"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

#mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo smut #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x you #fluff imagines #slytherin boys react #slytherin

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mariclerc · 11 days ago

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Spooky community service | cl16 & mv1

Summary: happy halloween at the race track(?

Warning: none, just lestappen x reader fluff.

Spending Halloween at the track in another country with your boyfriends is not a bad idea... Especially when both Max and Charles have to serve a penalty...

The vibrant, bustling atmosphere of the Brazilian Grand Prix paddock was a stark contrast to the quiet, almost serene track. Today, however, it was hosting an unusual sight: Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen, two of the most competitive drivers in Formula 1, were picking up trash around the track and grandstands.

The reason? A few choice words in Mexico and Singapore had landed them in hot water with the FIA, and they were now paying the price. To add insult to injury, they were forced to wear some Halloween costumes as part of their punishment. Charles was dressed as a pumpkin, his usually quirky expression now softened by a goofy orange hat and oversized glasses. Max, on the other hand, was a vampire, his signature serious expression replaced by a forced frown as he struggled to pick up a discarded water bottle.

You couldn’t help but laugh, you were dressed as a cute little witch, a playful grin on your face as you watched the two of them squirm.

“You two look ridiculous!” you teased, unable to contain your amusement.

“Babe shut up.” Max grumbled, his face turning a shade of red. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Charles smiled. “Oh, come on Max. It's not that bad.” he said. “I look like a animated pumpkin!”

You just laughed. “Oh, Max. It’s kind of funny.” you said and Max glared at you, but you just smiled innocently. “What? It’s true.”

As they continued to pick up trash, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. It was nice to see the two of them humbled.

“You know, this could be worse...” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “You two could be stuck in a clown car!” you giggled.

Charles and Max exchanged a look of horror but they ended up laughing.

“Don’t even joke about that.” Max said, shuddering.

You laughed. “I’m just kidding maxie. But seriously, you two should try to enjoy this. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!”

Charles sighed and smiled. “I guess you’re right... Plus, we're helping the environment!”

You giggled. “Exactly!”

As the day wore on, the three of you managed to have some fun. You took silly pictures, cracked jokes, and even had a mini water fight. By the end of the day, the tension had eased, and the three of you were laughing together.

As you walked back to the paddock, hand-in-hand with Charles and Max, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for your unconventional relationship.

“Oh god, it's Max the vampire!” said a little girl who giggled as she watched the three of you enter the paddock again. “Can I take a picture with you? Please?”

Max smiled. “Of course sweetie!” He said as he smiled and approached the girl to take the photo together, you and Charles smiled.

“Thank you! Oh my god, a little witch and Mr. Charles cute Pumpkin! I want a picture with you two!” she smiled.

You giggled. “Well, why don't the four of us take a picture?” you said and the girl giggled.

You placed the girl's cell phone on a table nearby in Williams' garden and set the timer.

“Say cheese!” said the girl.

“Cheese!” the four of you said in unison and took the photo and then many more with funny faces.

“Oh god, thank you guys so much!” the girl said very happily. “Happy Halloween!” she said while moving her little hand and ran towards her parents.

“Happy Halloween!” the three of you said in unison.

You smiled. “Well, at least you made someone's morning, don't you think guys?”

“Oh yes, definitely!” Max and Charles said while giggling.

It was moments like these, filled with laughter and love, that made it all worthwhile.

#f1 x you #charles leclerc #poly!f1 #max verstappen fluff #lestappen blurb #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #lestappen fluff #lestappen x reader #lestappen fic #lestappen #poly!drivers x reader #poly!drivers #mariclerc fics

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zephyrchama · 2 months ago

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Hello!!! I love your writing and hcs its so fun and silly!!!! I hope I'm not bothering you and if it's ok do you do headcanon lists? I want to hear more of your hcs if its ok

Hi! You're not a bother at all, I have so many asks I want to respond to but they're never a bother and I seriously think about every single one!

(I overthink asks way too much and then get worried that too much time has passed but I still want to answer them hhh. I also hoard praise like a dragon. I will get to my ask backlog, I've already written a bunch of stuff for them.)

I've seen that list style before, I don't think I've ever tried it? Have I? 🤔 Let's give it a shot with some headcanons. (hold on how do I make a bulleted list on this site) (I need to google it)

Lucifer

He probably greatly enjoys when Asmo does his nails, because that means he can't pick up a pen and is forced to rest for a bit.

I like to think he gets his gloves from the same shop as Barbatos.

I have these gray/transparent hairs in my bangs that are currently not too noticeable (my hair is naturally dark), but they sparkle in the sunlight kind of like hair tinsel. I like to think Lucifer (and maybe Mammon and Belphegor?) have hair like this sprinkled throughout their heads, and that it sparkles like starlight in the HoL's candlelight.

Mammon

He'd probably iron his money. I don't know if the Devildom has bills in their currency or if it's purely coin-based, but if there are bills I feel like Mammon would take the crumpled up ones and iron them crisp again.

I bet he tried to take a bath full of coins just to see what it was like one time and got in trouble for scratching up the sides of the tub.

He goes gambling so often, he's probably good at telling when someone's bluffing. He calls lesser demons out all the time for bluffing to his face and it's incredibly intimidating.

Leviathan

Being one of the Seven Rulers, he's probably just as famous as his brothers and is recognized in public way more than he realizes, but he isn't approached often because he's so famous and powerful. I like the idea of a gap in how he perceives himself (an unconfident shut-in loser) vs how the public perceives him (a strong and mysterious demon within the prince's inner circle).

His tail is long. I made it irl, in-game it's gotta be over 10 feet. I imagine when he's relaxed at home it just splays out however, but anywhere else he keeps it coiled close to his body. Hitting people with the tail would be unbearably awkwardly, he doesn't want to take up a lot of space, and it's probably comforting to keep it close. He could subtly rub his own back with it when he's feeling anxious?

Satan

He knows a guy for everything. He's got a crop rotation guy. He's got an ear piercing guy. He's got ten cursed book guys. If you need something, Satan always knows a guy. Though, he prefers to be self-sufficient. I think of him as a very charismatic person who's great with other people, yet a big introvert.

He's so good at curses that I feel like he sometimes might accidentally put a low level curse on someone, without really intending to. It just happens on rare occasion, especially when he's mad. Someone looks at him funny and is cursed to spend the next three days sneezing every ten minutes.

Similarly, he's the one who uses magic most casually. His room appears the most 'magical' of the brothers, he probably has a very efficient way of incorporating his magic into daily life. (Nowhere near Solomon's extent, but moreso than the other brothers.)

Asmodeus

He probably sings a lot, just for fun, because Ayme-san is such a good singer. You'd often hear Asmo's voice humming or singing when he's home and in a good mood (or bored). He has an easier time memorizing school subjects when he puts it to music.

I bet students at RAD search his seat after school for stray hairs, and then sell those hairs to witches for love potions. It really upsets him but after getting them to stop for a few weeks, someone will inevitably start doing it again.

Beelzebub

Beel probably has one of the fastest reflexes out of anybody. They all have fast reflexes, but I like to think he'd be at least a few milliseconds faster than some of his brothers when physically reacting to things.

I don't think he likes being alone with his thoughts, which is why he's always eating or working out or spending time with his brothers. He might start overthinking things and getting lost in a maze of dark thoughts, so he works hard to keep those thoughts at bay. He has a lot going through his head but is a guy of few words.

Belphegor

I bet he knows so much gossip. RAD students probably have loose lips around him thinking he's asleep, but even if he is sleeping, he hears them and picks up on rumors. He doesn't care at all. He won't go around spreading things more. But it could become intel stored in the back of his mind.

He probably doesn't like to brush his hair - he prefers to have it brushed by someone else - but I don't think he'd allow Asmo to do it often. Asmodeus might get carried away and start giving Belphie high-maintenance hairstyles that are a pain to keep up, so he refuses hair help from Asmo on most occasions.

I was going to write the other characters but this is getting long and I realized it's not quite bullet point-y so it might not be what you wanted. ;u; Hope that's ok, thanks for the ask!

#obey me #obey me!#omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanon #obey me fandom #obey me hcs #obey me headcanons #obey me hc #ask #obey me swd #obey me brothers #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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honeyflashbang · 3 months ago

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My theory on Sampo's true identity...

(Minor Spoilers for 2.4) (also, I’m no expert in… anything, really, but these are just my ramblings).

So, this has probably been mentioned before, but I have a teeny-tiny theory about Sampo’s true identity, and it relates to Finnish mythology.

So, “Sampo” in and of itself doesn’t have a set meaning, but it has its roots in Finnish mythology, particularly the “Kalevala” which is a 19th-century compilation of epic poetry. In it, a blacksmith god by the name of Seppo Ilmari(nen) forges the mythical device known as “The Sampo”. It’s never quite explained what The Sampo really is; some versions depict it as a mill, others as a cornucopia from which bountiful creations flow from, and some even have it as being a world tree/world pillar, so what The Sampo really is, isn’t entirely known. But, what is known, is that it brought riches and good fortune to its holder (again, the same as the cornucopia from Greek mythology).

But why am I mentioning all of this? Why bring up the Kalevala? It could be that Hoyo just chose the name “Sampo” for some flavour—befitting of a character who magics up relics from seemingly thin air and is trying to create riches—and yeah, it’s a possibility…

Until I saw these two screenshots from the 2.4 story:

You know what this means, right?

Kalevala is a real planet in Hoyo’s Star Rail universe, and I find it awfully coincidental that they would use this name for a planet and not have it related to a certain blue haired conman, especially since The Sampo is such a pivotal element in the plot of the Kalevala—there is no way this is a coincidence (I refuse to believe it).

This leads me to believe that Kalevala is Sampo’s real home world, and is where he originates from.

Now, this is all well and good, knowing where “The Sampo” hails from, but I want to focus on its creator—Seppo Ilmari(nen)—and his parallels to a certain blue haired conman. For one, Ilmari(nen)’s name is quite interesting as the ‘Ilma’ part is Finnish for ‘air’ or ‘weather’, and as we know, Sampo’s element is that of ‘wind’ (And also the fact that Ilmari(nen) is credited as “Godlike smith-hero and creator of the sky”. I could go into a whole spiel about Ilmari(nen) and Qlipoth swinging their giant hammers in tandem together for all eternity (Go Sampard! Geppie is Qlipoth's true heir, you can't convince me otherwise!), but that’s for another conspiracy theory lol).

So, ‘Ilma’ means ‘air’, and Sampo wields ‘wind’.

Cool.

If the parallels ended there, I’d just say I was being crazy… but there’s more.

Sampo’s 4th (and arguably best) eidolon is called “The Deeper the Love, the Stronger the Hate”. Two out of his six eidolons refer to 'love', whilst the other 4 are to do with wealth and riches. The wealth and richest aspect leans towards The Sampo of mythology, whilst the ‘love’ aspect, well…

According to the story, Seppo Ilmari(nen) is the unluckiest bastard alive when it comes to love. Like, seriously. His whole storyline is that he can’t find a woman. For one, Seppo Ilmari(nen) is double crossed by his so called buddy, Väinämöinen, into creating The Sampo for the evil witch Louhi of Pohjola in exchange for her daughter’s hand in marriage (which, Ilmari didn’t even want in the beginning), but when the poor guy actually sees the daughter and falls in love with her (and subsequently creates the Sampo—after failing miserably a number of times, mind you—he creates a crossbow, a boat, a cow(wtf?) and a plough, all which are somehow either evil or flawed), she ups and just leaves him hanging! (in the original runes, however, he is successful in gaining a wife, as his ‘unlucky in love’ spiel was later added by Lönnrot in compiling the Kalevala).

As with any mythology and re-telling of it, there’s so many different versions of the same event. In “The Maiden of the North”, a 1898 opera written by Oskar Merikanto, both Ilmarinen and Väinämöinen compete for the chance to marry Louhi’s daughter, who is then mentioned as being “Ilmari(nen)’s first wife” and who later dies to Kullervo’s curse (apparently she was a bit of a bitch to Kullervo by taunting and tormenting the poor boy—who was a child slave mind you!). Distraught, Ilmari(nen) forges himself a wife of gold and silver, but he finds her to be too cold and callous—he forges her out of love but only finds hate—so he tries to gift her to Väinämöinen (who doesn’t want her either, lol), and suggests he cast her back into the furnace and to “forge from her a thousand trinkets”.

Here’s the accompanying poem:

Never, youths, however wretched,

Nor in future, upgrown heroes,

Whether you have large possessions,

Or are poor in your possessions,

In the course of all your lifetime,

While the golden moon is shining,

May you woo a golden woman,

Or distress yourselves for silver,

For the gleam of gold is freezing,

Only frost is breathed by silver.

It is apparently your standard Aesop’s fable of “money can’t buy happiness”, which is something else I see in our dear old Sampo Koski. During our time in Belobog, we see how different he acts with the Underworld and Overworlders. To the poor, he actually seems approachable (albeit a bit of a nuisance), going so far as to help the Underworlders (an example being the questline “Survival Wisdom” in which he and Peak set up a business together renting out his tools to help the miners make a decent wage to support their families). In contrast, we actively see Sampo being very hostile towards the Overworlders, scamming them and putting the nobles in their place or setting them up to be caught by the Silvermane Guards (an example being during the museum questline where you discover his identity as “Mr Cold Feet”. Sampo clearly states to who he thinks is his mark that ‘we are not friends’ in a very hostile manner, something which we’ve not seen from Sampo before as he is usually quite amicable).

For all Sampo’s showboating and flashing his money around, he helps where it counts. He wants to make money, sure, but not at the detriment of the people who need it the most, only to those with excess.

Anyway, back to him being unlucky in love…

In another rune entitled “Kosinta”, Ilmari(nen) goes on a journey to compete for Hiisi’s daughter, and wins by completing various feats, one of them being “ploughing a field full of snakes”:

And as we know, Sampo is very heavy on the snake motifs (the head of the snake on his shoulders, the spine wrapped around him, the daggers are its fangs…etc.)

So that’s another interesting link between Seppo Ilmari(nen) and Sampo Koski.

So, why have I gone on this long winded tangent about Seppo Ilmari(nen) when I’m supposed to be talking about Sampo Koski?

Well, that’s because I think Sampo Koski’s real name is (or a variant of) Ilmarinen.

In the Hoyo universe, I believe Ilmarinen came from the planet Kalevala and ‘created’ the persona of Sampo Koski, much like how in the Kalevala, Seppo Ilmari(nen) forged The Sampo.

As I’ve listed above, there’s so many links between the two:

“Air” as a name and “Wind” as an element.

Seppo Ilmari(nen) ploughed a field of snakes to win Hiisi’s daughter’s hand in marriage, whilst Sampo Koski relies heavily on snake motifs for his attire.

Sampo’s two eidolon names that relate to love (which are completely different from the other 4 eidolon names), whilst Seppo Ilmari(nen) is known to be unlucky in love.

I’m pretty damn sure Sampo creates his own bombs and tinkers with the old relics to bring them back to life, whereas Seppo Ilmari(nen) is a smith who created the dome of the sky! They’re both artificers!

And now the revelation that a planet by the name of “Kalevala” exists is no mere coincidence.

So, either Sampo is Ilmari(nen) - or! - Sampo is a puppet (like Herta) created by someone called Ilmari(nen).

(I would love if his 5* version is him with this name).

Right, I’m finished rambling. Gonna go huff some copium...

#honkai star rail #sampo koski #hsr #Sampo #fan theory #theorycrafting #huffing the copium #I really need a 5* of this man #There's probably a bunch of stuff I've missed...#I am literally dying for Sampo content #I WANNA GO BACK TO BELOBOG!#Seriously when I saw the name 'Kalevala' show up as a planet name I lost my shit #Kalevala #finnish mythology

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woodle-isbae · 2 months ago

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Nerd y/n and jock Connie enemy to lovers love story

Not all bad

Connie.S x Reader

warnings : more like rivals/frenemies than enemies , swearing , Reader and Connie have a past together , alot happens in one night , Reader is the typical nerd who tries to fit in. Reader was invited by Ony btw.

A/N: I'm going to make this a little story

you sat in the middle of a couch , sand witched between a passed out drunk rando and a couple on the brink of fucking each other. You took small sips from your red party cup , the loud boom of the music made its way into your ears.

your eyes scanned around the room , in search of a familiar face until it lander on a Buzzed head , legs being lifted up as he drank from a keg. people cheering him on and supporting the dumb party game. You watched this go on until he was let go , stumbling a bit before waddling your way .

his face was a flushed red , obviously drunk from the way he could barely hold himself up. He moved closer each time you blinked , until he stopped in front of you and stared you down , his eyebrows knit together for a moment until his face changed. he hunched over to the couple next to you and threw up, gasps and screams erupted from the two next to you , they shoved passed him and scurried out to leave.

''what the fuck springer!?'' You got up , refusing to be his next target.

he looked at you , a string of drool hung of his lower lip while he swayed side to side , clutching his stomach lightly.

''You got a staring pro-'' you were just about to cuss him out until you felt a hand slither round your waist.

you whipped your head around , being met with the pearly white smile of your Situationship , Onyankapon.

''Jus' forget it baby , he ain't important'' he took your hand , leading you away from the barely present person. You glanced back to see him walking over to his group for a second round.

. . .

you were making your way to the drinks , pushing past a couple of people until you found the bottles splayed out on a table, some empty and others barley finished. You mixed up some concoction for you and Ony , heading back to the pool area he dragged you off to , he wasn't there.

You checked in the backyard and went back inside , you turned the corner to head back into the kitchen until you bumped into someone , you made sure you didn't spill the drinks in your hands before looking up.

Being met with the face of Ony , absolutely mortified while he had another girl against him , she looked annoyed at you.

"Oh.." you muttered out , not even bothering to get angry.You knew he would do this but you guys just began talking.

"C'mon , don't get mad...we not even togeth-"

"Onyankopon...seriously??"

The girl shoved herself off him , scoffing and dissapearing in the crowd that was beginning to form

"See what you did..fuck , let's talk outside-"

"What I did...man fuck your shit."

You kissed your teeth , tossing the two cups on him before turning on your heels to leave , trying to get as far away from him before he could snake his way back into your heart. You could hear him calling you but ignoring to avoid any further interaction, your eyes filled to the brim with tears of anger , you needed to get back at him.

"Y/N."

Your head whipping over to the slurred call of your name , Just the person you wanted to see , absolutely drunk off his ass as he was left by his friends to cool off. Probably said something dumb.

"This don't mean anything-"

You blurted out before he could speak any further , spotting Ony in the corner of your eye and you needed to do something. You leaned forward , grabbing the man infront of you and smashing your lips together, eyes shut tightly and hands flailing around his body as his own slithered to your hips.

You could feel eyes staring at you both , a pair burning into your face until you finally pulled back , keeping your bodies close to eachother and hands in places you wouldn't even dare to put. Feigning innocence , you turned your head to the angered face on the other man's face.

"Fuck is your pro-"

"Don't tell me your mad.?? We not even together."

You mimicked his words ,down to the exact same tone.He was about to say something until he was cut off. The voice deeper and more serious.

"Jus' forget it baby..He ain't important."

Your eyes widened a bit , looking over to the suddenly sobered up man who had you in his grasp. He copied you and mimicked the words he could try to remember.

"Fuck both yall , and you are such a whore Y/N L/N."

He stormed off , seemingly leaving the event, while people whispered and went back to minding their business . You were swiftly shoved off , Connie going back to the drink in his cup.

"J'so you know , I only did that to help you...I wouldn't fuck you in a million years time."

You tsked and crossed your arms , looking him up and down with annoyance. You guys never really got along, never knew why but sometimes you would cuss eachother off until you nearly got into a fist fight.

"You jus' lucky this is Eren's party , I would've popped your shit by now."

"Can you go back to ready your little anime-book thingies , why are you even here.??"

"They're called comics , Constance. And I'm here to have fun and not drink my ass off."

He glared up at you , using his full name was only for people who knew him and due to unfortunate circumstances, You fit in that list.

"Fuck off.. I don't wanna see your face."

You huffed and turned to leave , Honestly this night was a mess. You could care less about what happens in your life , you just needed to rest for once.

You got back to your house , throwing yourself onto the bed and letting out a muffled sigh. Today was such an eventful day, excluding anything before 6pm.

You got changed into some sweats and threw on a tank top, making yourself a snack to eat while you scrolled on your phone. Laughing at memes and jokes sent from your Group chat , talking about the next cosplay convention and who your going dressed as.

The night was finally ca until you got a different notification, an unknown number sent you message and a image attachment.

It was a photo of Connie kissing you. The message stating that they had already sent It to half the school.

You only sighed , not really caring since you don't like half the school anyways.. that was until you thought of Connie. Then panic struck , he's probably gonna hate you for ruining his look.

What kinda jock dates a Nerd-scratch that, what kind of Jock dates Y/N L/N? You paced around your room , trying to think of any way to get him out of this until your phone dinged again.

Constance 🤓

-> we need to talk. Like rn.

You.

-> yeah, ik , I saw the photo.

Constance 🤓

-> ...okay , Monday after school, your place?

You only sent a quick thumbs up , he was obviously trying not to call you and cuss you out for ruining his life-that's what you thought- a pit of nervousness making itself home in your gut.

How am I gonna face him.??

#azana #chubby!reader #x black reader #black plus size reader #aot #aot x black reader #aot x reader #aot connie #connie x black reader #connie springer x reader #connie springer #connie smut

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dyns33 · 2 months ago

Text

Family's House

Next episode of Alfie Solomons and his wife dayly life as idiots in love

Y/N knew how to keep a house. Or almost.

In any case, she knew how to manage on her own, cook, clean, do the laundry, but that didn't mean that she loved these activities, or that she did them perfectly well.

However, since she was married, it seemed important that she behaved like a good wife who took care of the household chores, so that her husband could rest when he came home from work.

And with his "work", Alfie needed a lot of rest.

Since he was not very trusting, he didn't like the idea of letting a housekeeper hang around unsupervised at their house, but he had found the sister of one of his loyal employees who could come by three times a week to take care of the cleaning, laundry, dusting, checking the silverware, and other things that he didn't care about at all.

On top of that, he often insisted on cooking. Maybe he was afraid that his meals would be poisoned, or he had noticed that his wife's food were too salty or overcooked, but in any case, even if he was gifted, that also annoyed Mrs. Solomons a lot.

"I could do it !" Y/N insisted, who also didn't like coming home and finding herself in front of a frightened girl, who didn't know that her boss wasn't the type to punish someone because the forks were put away wrong.

"And when would you have time, love ? You're often with me at the bakery, to help me keep the accounts, check that everything has been done properly and stop me from killing everyone."

"I'm not there as often as you."

"And the employees regret it. I think they're plotting. Ollie's been making me walk a lot lately, he knows my back doesn't like it, and that you'll take my place if I'm bedridden. Little vermin. I heard about an election project."

"Stop, I'm serious."

"Me too, love. For the plot, and the fact that I don't care who cleaned the house, as long as it's cleaned."

Maybe he didn't care, but the Candem harpies did. Y/N wanted to convince herself that she didn't care about their opinions, but that wasn't entirely true.

She wanted to be a good wife, for everyone to know that Alfie Solomons had made the right choice in marrying her, and that they were very happy.

Of course, it was also good to have a cleaning lady. A sign of wealth. But she couldn't help it, she needed to feel useful, and to show that she cared for her husband. In her family, they took care of each other, even if it wasn't always in a conventional way.

Since he was an excellent husband, Aflie had noticed her nervousness. He had first thought that she was bored. That was partly why he gave her work at the bakery, but also because he trusted her, that she was very talented, and that he liked to be with her all the time.

Since that didn't seem to be enough, he made the mistake of asking Tommy for advice. Except that since he didn't consider Thomas to be the best at relationships, or at keeping secrets from his sister, he talked about horses.

"Why ? Are you planning to buy a horse ?"

"Well, you see dear Tommy, maybe. You guys like these devil's creatures, and I love my wife. I was thinking of getting a mare, I found a charming one, adorable, but a little crazy. Agitated. Oh, I know what you're going to say, she senses that I'm not comfortable, all that bullshit, but no, she's like that with everyone. How can I calm her down ?"

"If she's naturally like that, you won't be able to. But you can always try to talk to her nicely, stroke her head and blow on her nose." Tommy answered seriously, not understanding what they were talking about and really lovng horses.

"… Yeah, I'm not sure she'll appreciate it."

The moment he put his hand on her head and complimented her, Y/N stared at Alfie with a dark look, as if she had perfectly understood what he was doing and why. He was certain of it when she stood up, leaving the room after blowing on his nose.

"Damn witch." he mumbled, thinking he was completely under her spell.

With her problem not resolved, Y/N took the time to consider the situation while remaining calm. It was not necessary for her to do great things to be a good wife.

Cleaning his shirt after work, preparing a good meal from time to time, lighting a fire in the fireplace in winter by offering a pillow for his back and tea. Simple gestures, but very important.

It was the middle of the afternoon when she decided to do all this before Alfie returned. Nothing impossible.

But in the end, she burned the dinner, missing even a simple loaf of bread, she broke plates, one of which had belonged to Alfie's maternal grandparents, she almost set fire to the carpet, and her husband's favorite shirt fell into the mud, in the middle of the street, after Cyril barked cheerfully, making her jump as she wanted to hang it on the windowsill.

So Alfie found the house in this state, with his wife crying in the middle of the living room, her hair disheveled, full of flour, and her dress covered in soot.

"It reminds me of the war." was the only thing he could think to say, looking into the distance before approaching, his hand gently caressing her shoulder. "So, love, did you lose a battle ? What happened ?"

"… I wanted to please you."

"It's a success, I love seeing my wife sobbing."

"You're still not funny. I can't even make bread. I ruined your shirt, the carpet… I broke one of your plates. I'm a horrible wife, you're the one who should be crying."

He could have answered right away, but Alfie Solomons knew his wife well. She had many qualities, just as many reasons why he had fallen in love, and one of them was that Y/N was a stubborn woman.

Worst, she was a Shelby, so she was worse than a mule.

So he took a deep breath, forcing her to stand up so that she sat on his lap like a child, letting her finish crying and talking nonsense before speaking.

"Treacle. Listen to me carefully. First of all, I am a very funny man."

"Medium funny, and often without meaning to." she mumbled, her head nestled in his neck.

"True. In any case, I'm not a man who gets attached to stupid things like a shirt or a rug. I'll buy others. Same thing for the plate. I have lots of memories with my grandparents, I don't need a plate, I have lots of plates. I can go and break all the family's china."

"No."

"As you wish, love. For cooking, I admit that I would love to come home and enjoy a meal made by you with love. But if you don't like cooking, I love cooking, and I love watching you eat what I cooked for you. You don't know how to do it ? I can teach you. My bakery may be fake, but not my talent. My breads are the best in the country, my mother's recipe. Family secret. But we are married, so I can let you in on it."

"… You're really not angry ?" she asked shyly, feeling a little ridiculous, a feeling she didn't like at all.

"It would be very tempting to tell you that you deserve a punishment and to spank you, but no, treacle, I'm not angry. I appreciate that you wanted to do all this. You are a perfect woman, at least the perfect woman for me. I am fulfilled. And I don't tell Ollie and the others, but I also think that you do a better job than me at the bakery. Mutiny always lurks."

No doubt she got that from her family, the business sense and the ability to work perfectly. To compensate, Y/N was simply not good at being a housewife, and Alfie didn't give a damn.

He gladly kicked the clichés, the old ideas and the gossips of Candem who dared to criticize his wife or make fun of him because he rolled up his sleeves and went into the kitchen.

Why wouldn't it be normal for a man to take care of his wife ? A good husband had to recognize all the work done during the day, and in thanks, he could cook, massage the poor feet of his sweetheart, and make tender love to her in the marital bed.

And Y/N really had a lot of work with him and his company. No one could deny it.

Just having to put up with him was already a full-time job. He himself wasn't sure how she managed it, or why she loved an old fool like him.

"It's true that you're crazy, we're going to burn the house down !"

"No, love, we're going to make a brioche."

"Not if you keep holding my butt like that, instead of watching the oven !"

"My nose will know. While my eyes and hands can't resist the sight of my wife, kneading dough, wearing only my apron."

"I don't even remember how you convinced me to do this."

"A lot of charm and the promise of a heavenly tasting brioche."

"I'll eat it alone, after throwing you naked in the street."

"It wouldn't be the first time, treacle. If I promise to stop kneading your beautiful behind, will you let me taste our work with you ?"

"I'll think about it."

The brioche ended up burning, because despite his promises, and his shrewd nose, Alfie was particularly distracted when Y/N leaned over to grab a dish.

But it wasn't her fault, and since he didn't stop kissing her, she didn't have time to think that she would never be completely good at keeping house. It was already wonderful that she knew how to keep her husband on the right tracks.

#peaky blinders #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons fanfic

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