#charlie fic recs

[charlieg1rl]

Hi! I was wondering if you could help me find this Kim Seungmin textfic series I read a few days ago... I forgot to save it and don't remember the blogger either.

The story's something along the lines idolxreader where the reader is a college student and she text ksm thinking it's her ex, and they start talking and get to know each other... The reader likes to edit Kpop m/vs and ksm ends up getting her a job at jyp...

The story's not completed yet, and the last chapter that was published revealed his identity to the reader...

I was hoping you could help me find it... It's okay if you don't know about it though.

Thank you.

as soon as seen this i knew exactly what you were talking about 😭

that fic is Accidentally Coincidental by @soaplickerrr

and the masterlist is here 🤎

also i highly recommend this !!

[charlieg1rl]

alr i’m nosy who is seungmin fucking ??

skz fake texts you're teased for your crush on jisung pt 2

˚ ୨୧⋆. jisung x f! reader, college au, ft. lixie, minnie, innie and lino, mental illness jokes, suggestive

author's note: a lot of y'all wanted another part so here ya go! @hanji-coffee <3

part one

copyright © 2024 woozyvee. all rights reserved.

[sargeant-bxrnes]

you’re how i pray.

summary: reluctantly, you found yourself reaching out to the church for guidance, to better your “wrongs.” only to meet father charlie and realize there was a whole world of sins you’ve yet to indulge in. [REQUESTED.]

pairings: charlie mayhew x fem!reader

warnings: conversations about religion and moral, blasphemy (?), charlie is a manipulative freak!. SMUT: this is DIRTYYYY, fingering (fem), oral (fem), unprotected sex, manhandling, dirty talk.

WC: 3.6K (sorry, i got into it)

my masterlist!                     requests are OPEN!

Your steps echoed against the cold stone floors of the church. The towering figure of your aunt walked ahead, moving with self-righteous purpose. You rolled your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek to stifle the irritation that boiled beneath your skin.

Of course, therapy had been a good start. You had actually been making progress, learning to manage your anger, to quiet the voice inside you that urged you to rebel against every rule, every boundary. But your family… they believed therapy wasn’t enough. They had another solution.

Father Charlie. You had heard of him. A young priest, charismatic and well-liked by the community.

Your aunt wasted no time, walking straight up to the office where Father Charlie stood. His presence was larger than life, draped in his priestly robes, and yet his eyes—those piercing brown eyes—held a spark that didn’t quite match the image of a humble servant of God.

“Father Charlie, thank you for meeting with us,” your aunt began, already launching into a tirade about you. Words like rebellious, problematic, and sinful spilled out as though they had been rehearsed. You stood there, arms crossed, glaring at the rows of candles flickering on the altar.

Father Charlie nodded sympathetically but his gaze never left you. He didn’t interrupt your aunt’s sermon, though, and once the woman was satisfied that she had delivered enough holy condemnation, she patted you on the shoulder.

“Father Charlie will talk to you, sweetie. He’ll help you.”

With that, your aunt left, leaving behind a cloud of forced piety. The silence settled in as Father Charlie waited until the doors shut behind her.

“Guessing by your expression, I’m sure this wasn’t your first option, coming to me.” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

You shrugged, leaning back against one of the wooden furnitures of his office. “Yeah. My family has unfortunately convinced themselves that I’m a lost cause, and that only God can save me. Or so.”

Father Charlie smiled, and something about it made you feel more cautious than comforted. “Why do you think people see you that way?”

The question took you by surprise. Not the usual condescending lecture, not yet, anyway. “Because I don’t see the point in all these rules they’re obsessed with. I do whatever I want, and that annoys people. We’re born into this world, and instead of living the lives we want, we’re told what to do from the moment we can speak. Doesn’t that sound a little… cruel to you?”

“Rules are there to keep the community together. Without them, society would fall apart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Maybe. But what’s the point if those rules only help some people? The rich keep getting richer, while the rest of us… we’re always at the bottom. And that’s okay as long as we obey, right?”

“So, you think life is about doing whatever you want? No restrictions at all?”

“Not exactly,” you said. “I just think people should be free to make their own choices. To live without constant guilt and fear hanging over them. This whole idea that we’re supposed to follow blindly or be damned… it doesn’t sit right with me.”

The priest studied you for a moment, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze. “Do you believe in God?”

Your lips pressed together in a thin line. “I don’t know. Maybe there’s something out there, something bigger than us. But the people in this community? The hypocrisy. The way they use their faith to control others. It’s toxic.”

Father Charlie nodded slowly. “You’re not the first to feel that way. But you’re not as alone as you think, either.”

“What do you mean?”

His smile was back, but this time, it held something else. Something darker. “Let’s just say… not everyone in this church follows the rules as strictly as you might think.”

A shiver crept down your spine, but you couldn’t tell if it was fear or something else. His words, his tone—they didn’t match the image of the holy man you had been expecting. You sat down on the couch, to keep some distance.

“Let’s talk more,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “I’m curious about your thoughts on freedom. On life… on sin.”

Your pulse quickened as he took a seat next to you, far too close for comfort, but you didn’t move. There was something magnetic about him. Dangerous, but magnetic.

“You know,” Charlie began, his fingers lightly tracing the soft edge of the couch beneath both, “a lot of people in your position feel trapped by expectations. You said it yourself: you don’t like the way rules seem to be designed to keep some people down.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where this was leading, but already feeling a shift in the atmosphere.

He tilted his head, his gaze holding yours, and there was a glimmer of amusement—something almost wicked—in his eyes. “You’re not wrong to want freedom. To want more. But what you have to understand is that most people… they’re too afraid to admit it.”

“Too afraid?”

“Yes. They bury their desires under obedience, hoping it will make them feel whole. But deep down, they crave… more. They want to push against those boundaries.” He leaned in closer, his tone growing silkier. “Don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” you said, though you did know. It just didn’t feel safe to admit it—not to yourself, and definitely not to him. “I mean, I get frustrated, but… it’s not like I’m going to rebel against everything.”

“What if you did? What if, just for a moment, you allowed yourself to explore that side of you? The one that questions. The one that craves freedom… and maybe, other things?” Charlie’s eyes sparkled with something that felt far more dangerous than faith.

Other things. The way he said it, as if it were an invitation, hung heavily between both. You could feel the tension building, the heat.

“I think…” you started, your voice shaky, “I think people would lose their minds if I did something like that.”

His lips curled into a slow, knowing grin. “Maybe that’s exactly what they need.”

He let the words sink in before continuing, his voice dipping into something darker, more seductive. “You don’t need to live your life based on what others expect of you. There’s power in choosing for yourself.“

This conversation wasn’t going the way you’d imagined. You had expected judgment, correction—but instead, he was… encouraging you.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice almost a whisper now.

You looked away, feeling a flush creep up your neck. “I don’t know.”

“You’re lying,” Charlie said softly, his voice dipping even lower. “I think you know exactly what you want. You just haven’t allowed yourself to feel it fully.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, and you couldn’t ignore the way his words wrapped around you like a dark temptation. There was a part of you that did want something—something wild, something free, something dangerous. But this? Here? With him?

“It’s okay to admit it,” Charlie said, leaning closer, his lips dangerously close to your ear now. “Sometimes… surrendering to what you really desire is more powerful than fighting it.”

Your breath caught, and for a second, you leaned into him, drawn by the magnetism of his words. It was intoxicating—the way he seemed to know exactly what to say. But you pulled back, confusion warring with the strange attraction that was blooming inside you.

“You’re a priest,” you said, as though reminding him—and yourself—would somehow break the spell.

Charlie chuckled, the sound low and smooth. “I am. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand temptation. Sin is… fascinating, isn’t it? Especially the kind that makes you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.”

There was something so wrong about this conversation, and yet, you couldn’t deny the pull. The way he was making you feel—seen, understood, even desired—was something you hadn’t expected to find in this place.

He held your gaze, his confidence palpable. “You crave connection. An escape from the chains of expectation. You want to live life on your terms, even if that means stepping outside the lines drawn by those who think they know better. I admire that.”

“You really don’t know what you’re getting into,” you said, trying to regain some control.

“Perhaps,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “But what if I’m willing to take that risk? To explore those uncharted waters with you?”

“Is that what you do with all the girls who come in here, Father?” you shot back, trying to mask the way your pulse quickened at the thought.

“Most don’t provoke me the way you do,” he said, his voice low and velvety. “They’re afraid to stray too far from the righteous path. But you… you have a light about you that beckons me closer. It’s intoxicating.”

Your cheeks warmed under his intense scrutiny, but you quickly shook your head, refusing to be swayed. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You’re a priest.”

“Ah, but that’s the thing, isn’t it?” he replied smoothly, his gaze unflinching. “What does that really mean? I wear the collar, sure, but I’m also a man—one who understands the darker desires that lie beneath the surface. You’re drawn to them, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I’m just curious,” you replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.

“Curiosity is a dangerous game,” he said, his voice a seductive whisper. “Especially when it leads you to someone like me. You could explore all the answers to your questions, and perhaps even find the absolution you didn’t know you were seeking—if you dare to take that step.”

“And what’s the price for that?” you challenged, not ready to give in but undeniably intrigued.

“Just your trust,” he said, his gaze piercing through your defenses. “Let me guide you. Allow me to show you that the rules can bend, that the lines can blur. And in return, you’ll discover a side of yourself you never knew existed. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” you finally replied, your voice barely above a whisper, “but I’m not so easily led.”

He leaned in closer, their faces mere inches apart. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He ran his thumb delicately along your lower lip. “Lose yourself in me. Let me be your forbidden pleasure, your dark indulgence. Together, we can create a sin so divine, it will set your soul free.”

You feel his thumb diving inside your mouth. He pressed his thumb deeper, exploring the warm, wet cavern of your mouth as if mapping your innermost terrain.

“Mmmm, so eager to please," he purred, his other hand sliding down your side to grip your hip, holding you steady. "Your mouth was made for sin." With a subtle twist, he coaxed your tongue to swirl around the intrusion, a sinful game of give-and-take that left you breathless and wanting more. "Such a willing little temptress,"

And before you can process, he’s kissing you. And things gets heated, fast. It doesn’t seem to matter that you both were sitting on the couch from his office, inside the church. He claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging in to dance with yours in a primal, urgent rhythm. The scent of your arousal mingled with the musky undertones of his cologne, fogging the air with a heady, addictive haze. His hands roamed your body, possessive and demanding, as he pulled you closer, his own arousal throbbing against the confines of his trousers.

“So sweet," he growled against your lips, breaking the kiss only to nip and suck his way down your neck, leaving a trail of heated, open-mouthed kisses. "Such a delicious little sin."

His fingers deftly unfastened the buttons of your blouse, revealing the lacy bra beneath and the creamy swells of your breasts. You gasped, feeling his lips on your skin. Desperate and wanton, hungry.

He kissed and licked a path downward, pausing to toy with the lacy edge of your bra before tugging the delicate fabric aside with his teeth. His hot mouth closed over the swell of your breast, his tongue swirling to coax forth a responsive moan. His lips slid lower, fixating on your nipple. He suckled, the rhythmic pull of his lips and the scrape of his teeth sending jolts of pleasure-pain shooting through your sensitive flesh.

“Mmmm, you taste so divine," he purred, his free hand sliding up your thigh to brush against the damp fabric of your panties. "Every inch of you is made for sin."

You could foresee his intentions even before he started to move. His lips went lower down your chest, over your stomach, to the waistband of your skirt. With practiced ease, he slid his hands down your curves, peeling away the last of your garments with a hunger that bordered on reverence.

Your skirt and panties joined the discarded heap of your blouse and bra on the floor, leaving you bare and vulnerable beneath his intense scrutiny. His eyes raked over you, drinking in every inch of exposed flesh as if committing it to memory. The sight of you, spread out before him, was a feast for his sinful appetites.

“Exquisite," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "You're a vision of decadence. I'm going to indulge in every moment of our encounter, savoring every morsel of pleasure you offer me."

With that, he sank to his knees before you, his fingers brushing against your inner thighs as he gazed up at you with a wicked promise in his eyes. He leaned in, his breath a hot whisper against your most intimate flesh.

And he went at it, eager to devour. He started off with a long, languid lick with the flat of his tongue, licking from the edge of your slit all the way to the clit. It was utterly sinful, erotic.

He lapped at you, his long, dexterous tongue swirling and delving with a sinful expertise that made you gasp and squirm. The flat of his tongue glided along your slit, gathering your sweet essence before he darted the tip to tease the sensitive bump of your clit. He licked and suckled, alternating between long, languid strokes and fast, frantic jabs of his tongue, each one designed to drive you a little crazier with need.

“You taste so good,," he purred, his words muffled against your pulsing flesh. "I could eat this sweet cunt all day and never tire of it."

Two fingers slipped inside you, stretching and filling you as his tongue continued its relentless assault. He pumped them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue's movements as he brought you closer to the edge. His fingers curled, seeking that special spot that would send you plummeting into ecstasy. With each pass, his touch grew firmer, more insistent, as if trying to coax the very essence of your being from your depths. His lips and tongue never ceased their worship of your clit, suckling and flicking against the throbbing nub in a maddening dance of pleasure and desperation.

He could feel you teetering on the brink, your sweet cum flooding his fingers as your hips bucked and writhed in mindless need. His tongue worked frantically against your clit, a dizzying whirl of licks and suckles that left you breathless and begging for more. One last, long lick, and you were sent hurtling over the edge, your orgasm ripping through like a thunderclap.

“Yes," he hummed, his voice a reverent whisper. "Let it happen. Let me feel you cum for me." And as the waves of your climax crashed over you, he remained, drinking in every last drop of your release like a man dying of thirst.

And you thought that would be it, but no. He rearranged you, laying you down as he stripped off his cassock in a hurried tug. The garment joined the pile of your clothes, and he wasted no time unfastening his belt and shucking off his trousers. His massive cock sprang free, the thick, pulsing length already flushed and throbbing with need.

He loomed over you, his thick, throbbing cock jutting out before him like a red-hot brand, burning with the need for release. With a knee, he pushed your legs apart, spreading you in blatant invitation, before positioning himself between your thighs. One hand tipped your chin up, forcing you to meet his burning gaze as he lined himself up with your most intimate entrance.

“Last chance to turn back," he growled, the tip of his cock notched against your aching flesh. "Once I sink into you, there's no going back. You'll be mine, body and soul." He paused, his expression almost wistful. "But I know you won't refuse me. You want this, as much as I do."

With that, he surged forward, burying himself in your warmth with a groan of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

He filled you slowly, deliberately, each inch a decadent slide into heaven as he stretched you impossibly wide around his girth. The sensation was overwhelming, the burn of his intrusion mixing with the sweet, tingling pleasure that only he could evoke. When he finally bottomed out, he paused, savoring the feeling of being completely sheathed within you. He was huge, and you could feel every throbbing inch of him as he pulsed and twitched inside you.

“So perfect," he breathed, his voice low and husky with satisfaction. He took a deep breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he fought to regain his composure. "You were made for me. Every curve, every hollow, every inch of your sweet cunt is tailor-made to take my cock."

He began to move, slow and deep at first, withdrawing until only the thick head remained before plunging back in, his strokes growing firmer, more insistent as he lost himself in the mindless pleasure of the joining. — He took you like a man possessed, his pace growing faster, more erratic as he chased his release. The couch creaked in protest beneath both, the sound mingling with the ragged breathing and the obscene squelch of his cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy. Your back arched, pushing your pert breasts toward his devouring mouth as he feasted on one while still pounding into you. He growled against your skin, the vibrations adding another layer of sensation to the maelstrom of pleasure wracking your body.

Your eyes rolled back, feeling him pounding deep into your cunt as he suckled your tit. Wary, you used a hand to cover your mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

His mouth left your breast with a wet pop, and he sealed his lips over yours in a fierce, dominating kiss. His tongue invaded, claiming yours in a sensual dance that left both breathless. All the while, he continued his relentless pace, his cock pistoning in and out of you with brutal efficiency. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, your sweet cream coating his shaft as you teetered on the brink of another orgasm. With a groan, he broke the kiss, his eyes blazing with a primal intensity as he prepared to unleash his own release.

“Cum for me," he commanded, his voice a raw, desperate snarl. "Take my cock, just like that. Fuck- come for me. Come on my cock.”

The mix of the sensations and the sheer desperation on his voice, how needy it suddenly sounded did it for you. As your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clamped down around him like a vice, cum gushing out to coat his cock and balls. The sensation was enough to tip him over the edge, and with a hoarse bellow, he buried himself to the hilt and came, his thick seed pulsing deep inside you as his body shuddered and spasmed.

“Fuck!" he gasped, his hands gripping your hips like an anchor as he rode out the waves of his climax. "Yes... oh, god... yes..." He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch as he struggled to catch his breath.

As you recovered, you started to process. Thinking to yourself. Did you- did you just fuck a priest? Maybe you ARE as troublesome as people claim.

He slowly pulled out of you, his softening cock slipping free with a wet plop. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, his eyes never leaving yours. "Don't overthink it, my sweet," he murmured against your mouth. "Just enjoy the afterglow."

He leaned on his elbow, his free hand gently brushing the hair from your face as he took in your flushed, sated features.

"We've both crossed lines. Lines we can't simply erase. But perhaps that's for the best. Perhaps this is the key to setting you free." A sly smile played on his lips as he stood, his naked form glistening with sweat in the dim light. "Now, how about we continue this little sin of ours in the bed, hmm?"

And as that idea enticed you… you realized that perhaps you ARE a lost cause.

[niteskysx]

(A continuation from my last fic)

Stepbrother! Nicholas Chavez x Reader x Stepbrother! Cooper Koch

Your role in this family was… complicated. When your adoptive parents brought you into the family, they thought giving their boys a little sister would be a wonderful idea. A picture-perfect family, they said.

What they didn’t realize was that their sons were far from perfect.

At first, Nicholas seemed like the kind of older brother anyone would want— charming, protective, and confident. With the exception of some anger issues, of course.

He said he’d help you with boys. He’d give advice, tease you harmlessly, and make you smile. But as the both of you grew older, that teasing shifted into somewhat of a darker nature.

In the teaching and teasing, he would start making these odd requests and try to convince you the best he could.

“I want to try something new with my girlfriend, but I need to make sure I don’t screw it up with her, I- I really love her you know… Can I try it on you first? Just to see how it feels? Just this once?”

You hesitated first, of course, but you were just helping, right? You were family. It was all innocent, wasn’t it? Just a favor for your stepbrother.

The first time you gave in, you told yourself it was harmless. But once that line was crossed, it was like he’d broken a lock.

The requests kept getting bolder and things started escalating into more intense exchanges.

He’d pull you aside, or take you to his room, and say he needed your help again. That it was “important.”That he loved his girlfriend too much to risk losing her.

Nicholas was a person that could get angry very quickly. When things didn’t go his way, he would be frustrated or get mad quick and needed a way to blow off steam fast.

Eventually, he started using you as a stress-reliever.

Whenever Nicholas felt bored, frustrated, or just needed to “relax,” he’d call you into his room. He’d claim it was harmless but he needed your help to blow off steam.

“You wouldn’t want to ruin the only family you have, would you?” He would say.

It’s not like you wanted him to continue with what he was doing�� but sometimes, just, sometimes, you found yourself craving it. Craving him. Like a classic horny virgin, just so desperately waiting for the next time he’d teach you something new. You hated yourself for it, for wanting him like this, especially knowing that with each time you allowed him closer, you were indirectly betraying the only family you had ever known. But in those moments, as much as you tried, you couldn’t stop yourself. The minute he touched you, you melted— You couldn’t deny the way you looked forward to him, even as the guilt was suffocating you immensely.

Cooper, on the other hand, played the part of the sweet, caring brother. He didn’t seem to know the full extent of what went down between you and Nicholas, but you could tell he had an idea. He’d glance at you sometimes, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name— concern, guilt, maybe even jealousy. He’d ask if you were okay, with his angelic gentle tone that he has, but his questions only made you more anxious.

Even with Cooper, things didn’t feel entirely “brother-like.” His glances always lingered on you a moment too long, his touch lingering in ways that felt just a bit too intimate, like when his fingers brushed yours at the dinner table when you asked him to pass the bread. And that tension. That unspoken tension between the two of you that rises whenever you are left in a room together, alone.

You felt trapped by the both of them. Mentally, physically, emotionally….

The lines between right and wrong started to blur for you everyday and you couldn’t think right. You just kept sinking deeper and deeper into their control— intentionally or unintentionally.

You found yourself sitting close to Nicholas again— you could feel his fingers trail down your arm, his breath warm against your skin. You wanted to get away, you knew you had to get away, but you couldn’t… It was like he had you under some kind of unspoken spell that couldn’t be broken. He was leaning in, looking at your lips, about to do what you think he was about to do when—

The door flew open.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

“Hey—oh,” Cooper’s voice cut through the tension like a blade. He froze in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable.

Nick jerked back, his jaw clenching as he turned to glare at his younger brother. “What the hell are you doing?”

Cooper blinked, recovering quickly. “I was going to ask her if she wanted to watch a movie,” he said, his tone calm but his eyes flickering between the two of you. “But I can see I interrupted something.”

“You think?” Nick snapped.

Your heart was racing a million miles an hour. “I—I was just heading to bed,” you stammered, trying to escape the situation.

Cooper didn’t budge from the doorway, he just kept glaring, eyes locked on Nick’s. “Maybe you should give her some space, Nicholas. You know, let her breathe for once.”

You didn’t expect Cooper to say that. At all.

You could feel how mad Nick was getting. This wasn’t good.

“Stay out of it, Coop. This doesn’t concern you.”

“It does when you’re acting like a—” Cooper stopped himself, glancing at your innocent face before finishing. “Just… back off, okay?”

Nick took a step toward his brother.. “You don’t tell me what to do. Got it?”

“Someone has to,” Cooper shot back, his calm demeanor cracking. “She’s not your plaything, Nicholas.”

What was happening wasn’t good and you needed to figure out a way to stop this before things escalated. You quickly stepped between them before things could escalate.

“Stop it—both of you,” you said, your voice shaking but firm. “I don’t want any of this. I’m going to my room.”

You rushed out of there as soon as possible. You couldn’t take whatever “this” was. It was just too much for you to handle.

Nick watched you leave as you left his room, turning from frustrated to something softer. Sadder. But only for a brief moment before hardening his expression to bitter ‘ol Nicholas again. “Fine. Whatever,” he muttered, dropping into the chair beside his bed.

He shot a glance at Cooper, waving him off lazily.

“You can go now, too.”

Cooper gave Nick one last angry glance before he turned to leave.

As he stepped into the hallway, he could see that your door was slightly open and he peeked through that little space to see you sitting on the edge of your bed, holding yourself.

Hesitant at first, but he knocks lightly on your door and steps inside. “Hey,” he said, his voice gentler than ever. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your hands were still trembling. “I’m fine. Thanks for… everything.”

He gave you a small smile. “Someone has to look out for you.”

Before you could respond, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “If you ever need anything, just… let me know, okay?”

You nodded again, not adding anything else. He turned and quietly closed the door behind him.

When you were left alone with your thoughts, you were trying to process everything that just happened. What did just happen? In fact, what HAS been happening? I mean— this is not like you at all! You’re a good girl, like mom and dad say. You have always been a good girl… Kissing your step brother? Nicholas—? Seriously? The boy who gets off on torturing and teasing his stepsister? He doesn’t even really like you! He just uses you— why are you STILL letting him get close to you like that and then let him treat you like trash the rest of the time? And what was that fight? Over YOU? No way. This all feels like a very, VERY bad dream that you need to wake up from.

You sighed and collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your hands.

Just sleep it off… just… sleep… it… off.

Things will be normal tomorrow…. Right?

For @blackynsupremacy 🙊💋

[shadebloopnik]

Ik we all love the hc that Lucifer would be the one thats blushing and flustered in the relationship while Alastor's the calm one, but what if it isn't?

What if Lucifer is actually so much better at hiding his emotions and retaining a poker face? What if Alastor isn't as adept at keeping his emotions hidden as he thought?

Ok, clearly he isn't going to be a weird blushy mess, but like, at least to the hotel's perspective, to people who know him well enough, imagine he's like, super fucking obvious.

Plus points if he's oblivious as hell about it at first.

Like to the hotel residents they see Alastor absolutely go off the rocker when first meeting Lucifer, which, is a huuuuge step from his usual indifference. Then they think, oh man he hates the King so much. But then they also notice more things as the days go on.

How Alastor's ears perk up whenever the King enters the room. How his eyes would find their way to Luci almost unconsciously. The STARING. How he'd slowly be more touchy around the King. How Lucifer's meals always had a little something extra when it was Alastor's turn to cook. How his eyes would crinkle with genuine fondness when the King laughed. How the back of his coat would move as though a tail-they-def-don't-know-the-existence-of is wagging whenever the King would smile in Al's direction.

And the cherry on top, Alastor's face turning as red as his hair when he was asked about it.(bigger evidence: how the parlor had to be rebuilt after being demolished by him, but yknow we wont focus on that)

Once they get over the shock of Alastor having a massive fucking crush on the King of Hell, they then realize that, oh wow actually Alastor fucking sucks at this, he's hopeless.

So they all decide to wingman him, some more eager than others (Vaggie will forever bemoan the idea of having Alastor as a future step-father in law, overshadowed by Charlie's "OH MY GOSH TWO DADS")

They all have their different ways of "helping" and though Alastor absolutely loathes it, he has to accept the fact that he has no idea what he's doing and to 'shut the fuck up and let the experts handle this.'

The results range from mild success(Husk setting them up for a private drink at the bar), to awkward failures (Charlie making them wear a single get-together shirt) to humiliating uncertainty(Lucifer immediately excusing himself after seeing Alastor wear a backless suit that Angel suggested)

Idk where im going with this or if there's a fic like this, but I'd soooo love to read it. Just, an entire silly fic of wingman shenanigans please and thank you

[a-reverii]

⭑ 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 + 𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒 ⭑

— 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.

sirius black

tulips. ⇢ @amiableness

safe place. ⇢ @/amiableness

don't delete the kisses. ⇢ @that-bwitch

regulus black

time to pretend. ⇢ @delicrieux

the arranged marriage or regulus's dreams. ⇢ @ellecdc

see me. ⇢ @mmoonysgf

hold her! ⇢ @kquil

secret admirer. ⇢ @itsbuckytm

remus lupin

clandestine. ⇢ @spncvr

sirius the matchmaker. ⇢ @fishley

his girl. ⇢ @opalesquegirl

our band. ⇢ @wzrd-wheezes

james potter

boundary less. ⇢ @wicchyy

no boundary!james. ⇢ @ddejavvu

best friend!james. ⇢ @/ddejavvu

personal trainer. ⇢ @fourmoony

about you. ⇢ @ma1dita

and i love her. ⇢ @dilf-lover99

— 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐘.

neil perry

if i fell. ⇢ @sorencd

two of us. ⇢ @/sorencd

art class. ⇢ @/sorencd

charlie dalton

orlando (first kiss). ⇢ @dearsnow

under the neon glow. ⇢ @augiewrites

secret admirer. ⇢ @/augiewrites

todd anderson

todd can't help the way he feels about you. ⇢ @writersmacchiato

— 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐍.

peter parker

new york private life. ⇢ @astxroiid

← back to fic rec masterlist.

[otsmosis]

once again, another doodle dump from @morningstarwrites's fic Of Saints and Sinners, ft. Angel having a breakdown, Charlie realising the implications of Alastor dating her dad, various moments between Luci and Al, and Lucifer being jealous of the closeness Alastor has with his old friends.

[trulyhblue]

Media Duties (Pt 2 of Communication)

Kyra Cooney-Cross x Dutch! Arsenal! Reader

Warnings: fluff, REALLY bad translated Dutch, language barrier, suggestive if you squint really hard.

Masterlist

___________________

While your English was far from great, it was slowly improving.

You spent most of your time at training listening to the conversations around you, trying to match words to emotions and faces to sounds. Your Netherlands teammates had slowly integrated the second language into your Dutch conversations, and your Arsenal teammates urged you more and more out of your shell.

You were still very soft-spoken, ushering a few words here and there, smiling when the group set off into chuckles at something one of them — primarily Katie — had said.

After games and training, Vic and you would go out to dinner, listening to her order before doing so yourself. It was embarrassing at first and continued to be until you memorized the pronunciations entirely.

Viv often invited the two of you over for dinner. It became a sort of tradition after training on Mondays and Fridays; when neither of you were willing to cook. You would listen to Beth talk about everything because she regularly did so whenever she had the chance. Viv would tease her for talking too much, but you enjoyed the blonde’s bubbly personality.

Alessia would come over to yours when she wanted to, using the few Dutch phrases she knew to bond with you. The ex-united player was very giggly, and wouldn't stop giggling until someone had to physically restrain her. In your opinion, she had the easiest accent to read.

Kyra’s on the other hand, was not.

Kyra was stuck to your hip the moment you met. You weren't used to having someone as physically clingy as the Australian, but you didn't seem to mind it. She would bring you a chocolate every morning, cheekily popping her one in her mouth with a smile. She would give you her packet when you left yours in your cubby, and when the two of you were subbed off, she’d sing your ear off with the strangest songs you ever heard.

When she first slept over with you, Victoria and Alessia, she refused to play Monopoly if she wasn't the dog, and you had to remind her that she wasn't actually going into debt — she could've just mortgaged her properties — but she threw her hands up and claimed everyone was gaining up on her. She took the blankets all to herself when you went to sleep, and when you whinged about how you were cold, she curled both her arms around your waist and cuddled you like a teddy bear.

Unrecognizably, Kyra’s Dutch started to improve. Neither of you noticed it at first, having used Google Translate in the first few weeks of meeting each other, but ever so slowly, the Australian found herself talking small phrases to you in your native language.

It wasn't like she went home and practised them on Duolingo, no, she’d never…

“My jacket looks good on you,” Kyra said to your hunched figure. You don't look up at her, but from her tone, you can tell she is smug.

Today's game against Chelsea was a big one. The famous London Derby was well awaited, with the Emirates banking up to pretty much sell out by the morning of. You kept seeing the anticipation of the game on social media. Tweets on the starting eleven predictions and score prognosis were being thrown left and right, causing you to feel slightly displaced regarding the upcoming match.

You had sat next to Kyra on the bus, having done so for every game this season so far. The trip to the stadium wasn't far, yet the suspense of the crowds daunted you as your head leaned against Kyra’s shoulders.

You were a part of the starting eleven, meaning you’d be up against Jessie Fleming and Erin Cuthbert. The young Aussie beside you wasn't, which rattled you even more. The combination of you, Vic, Kyra and Katie in Midfield was unstoppable, but on the rare occasion that you were all on the field at once was rare. Vic and Lessi were sitting in front of you, making TikToks. Vic had gotten up early this morning, but you two still managed to nearly miss the bus. Alessia was wearing her usual multiple layers of clothing, while Vic was only in her kit.

You matched Kyra’s silence for most of the ride, her small conversation being met with your distant hums. She could tell you were nervous, you didn't know how, but she knew.

“Domme meid.” Silly girl. She muttered. This nickname wasn't new to you. In fact, it was used quite frequently by your Netherlands teammates. Nonetheless, the quip made you look up, meeting the Aussie’s beady, brown eyes and childish smirk.

“I am not silly.” You retorted. “You are.”

“I am what?”

“Silly.”

Kyra shook her head, running her hand through her hair, her smile brighter. “Je stress te veel.” You stress too much.

“Ik niet. Je bent te relaxed. Ik benadruk omdat ik het goed wil doen.” I do not. You are too laid back. I stress because I want to do well. Your voice was pointed, the glare from your eyes making your point known.

But your gaze softened upon seeing Kyra’s eyes widen, her nose twitching as her lips fell into a frown. She didn't understand.

“Sorry.” You sighed, smoothing your shorts out with your hands. “I am… I am stressed… I want to…”

“Do well?”

You nodded, her face smoothing over. “Yes.”

“You are a very good player.” Without much thought, Kyra took your hand, her thumb drawing patterns over your palm. The blush that fell over your cheeks was noticeable. You could tell by Kyra’s smile. “You play very well.”

You could tell Kyra was struggling to find the right words to say. She bit her lip in thought, pulling out her phone. You knew what she was doing right away.

When she finished typing, the familiar voice rang out.

“Je zult niet begrijpen wat ik zeg als ik Engels spreek. Je moet je vandaag geen zorgen maken, want je bent een van de beste middenvelders die ik ken. Je hebt ongelooflijke vaardigheden. Je verdient het om trots te zijn op wat je kunt doen.” You won't understand what I’m saying if I speak in English. You shouldn't worry about today because you are one of the best Midfielders I know. You have incredible abilities. You deserve to feel proud of what you can do.

Your cheeks were very red by this point, your grip on Kyra’s hand tightening as you listened to the voice pour out of her phone.

“I want you to… play.”

“I might come on. You never know.”

You shook your head, telling her you didn't understand. She started typing up a storm once more, and you watched in adoration as a concentrated crease formed between her eyebrows.

“Als je je nerveus voelt, kijk dan rond en tel hoeveel mensen je trui dragen. Elke week zie ik hoop. Dat zal je laten zien hoeveel mensen in je geloven, zelfs als je dat niet doet.” If you are feeling nervous out there, look around and count how many people are wearing your jersey. Every week I see heaps. That’ll show you how many people believe in you, even if you don't.

You beamed, moving closer to Kyra by hugging her waist, using one of your arms to push underneath the hem of her shirt. You fiddled with the fabric to whole way there, feeling a wave of calm and peace flow over you.

***

Not once had you interacted with a reporter throughout your time at Arsenal. Never once did you find yourself in the awful situation of being caught out after a game.

Until now.

The game went incredibly well for the Gunner, coming away with a four-one win against the top of the ladder in front of nearly 70,000 people. You played the whole game, assisting one of the goals, and receiving player of the match.

This was your first time accepting an award at Arsenal. Kyra got the fan’s Player of the Month in November, which was definitely well deserved. At first, you had thought Alessia wouldn't obtain today’s award, but you were pleasantly surprised when Kyra came running up to you with the trophy, probably snatching it off someone so that she could be the first to hold it.

“Look at you go, Y/n/n.” She spoke, slipping her arms around your waist, spinning you around. “So proud of you.” This was a very special moment for you. You were trying awfully hard in your new club, and it felt like all of the tough work was paying off.

You were about to answer Kyra, praising her on the game she had, being subbed on in the second half, when you felt a presence come up behind you, alongside several cameras.

This was not your first time in front of the media, being known for your charismatic media presence back at AFC Ajax. You noticed fans loved the challenges you did with your old teammates and the joy you’d bring to the videos that would gain so many more views than all the others. You’d been tagged in all these tweets begging you to be in an Arsenal video, but you knew it wouldn't be the same.

You’d stutter, unable to find the right words you were thinking of in Dutch. Your humour wouldn't be as quick and witty in English. While you had grown an uncanny friendship with all of the Arsenal girls over these last months, you had known your Ajax teammates for four years, some even longer if you played with them at youth level.

“Y/n, congratulations on the game today and, of course, on Player of The Match, how would you describe this moment?”

The reporter was quick to point her microphone at you, waiting as you stood there speechless at her words. You only caught onto snippets of her speech. You hadn't heard the first part of her question, being too caught up in your moment with Kyra.

The Aussie was standing next to you, her arms still wrapped around your waist. She must've caught onto your stunned disposition since she swiftly moved you from side to side, stalling the moment by dancing with you cheekily.

The reporter laughed at the interaction, the cameraman panning to catch Kyra’s cunning smile and your flushing cheeks. She took the trophy from your hands, holding it up like Simba from The Lion King. You were giggling at the sight, and the camera caught Kyra’s beaming, proud response to your reaction.

“Well, I think this moment speaks for itself. Kyra, do you think Y/n’s commendation was well deserved?”

Kyra took her arm and swung it over your shoulder, giving you the trophy back with a toothy grin. “Who else would they give it to?”

“Lessi.” You suggested, modest in your attempt to calm the hyper state Kyra was in. The reporter laughed as Kyra gasped.

“You’re just being humble. She's a stress head, y’know, always worrying about the game. But look,” She pointed at the trophy, specifically your engraved name. “The amount of jerseys with her name on it says enough.”

“How are you going to celebrate now?” The woman asked, the microphone now between the two of you.

“Play a game of Monopoly.” Kyra smirked, watching you scoff.

“No.”

________________________

victoriapelova

Liked by leahwilliamson, and 32,363 others

victoriapelova — disgusting, the two of them 🤢

Tagged : yourusername, kyracooneyx

comments :

bethmead_ — let them be!!!

user1 — I wonder what they’re smiling at 🤔

^ yourusername — google translate 💗

^ user2 — SHE’S SO UNIRONICALLY FUNNY LMAO

^ user3 — IKR LIKE THE HEART SHES SO CUTE

alessiarusso99 — I'm already motion sick! Don't need that 🤧

^ victoriapelova — AGREED

^ kyracooneyx — your TikToks make us sick. Keep them in drafts, no one wants to see them ‼️

user4 — my two pookies 💞

* liked by kyracooneyx

katie_mccabe15 — @ yourusername where is my cuddles?! 😡

^ kyracooneyx — why cuddle you when she's got me?

^ charligrant — your cuddles are lethal, Kyra. I've nearly been suffocated to death.

^ alessiarusso99 — blink if you need help.

User12 — THEM IN THE INTERVIEW TOGETHER UGH THEY WERE SO CUTE

^ User15 — THE WAY KY DANCED WITH Y/N/N CAUSE SHE WAS NERVOUS OMG

yourusername — Vivi in the back 🤣

^ viviannemiedema — I was sleeping, shush.

^ user5 — looks like she's manifesting a win

^ viviannemiedema — I was.

user7 — they are so dating

^ user8 — they literally met like four months ago I doubt it

^ user9 — call me delulu, but they are trululu

^ user10 — no one can tell me otherwise after her POTM interview

^ user11 — THE WAY KYRA LOOKED SO PLEASED WITH HERSELF WHEN Y/N STARTED GIGGLING

^user10 — “who else would they give it to” “lessi” LIKE AWWWW SHES SO HUMBLE

(pretend its the Arsenal jerseys hahahaha)

kyracooneyx

kyracooneyx — Domme Meid

*comments are limited*

yourusername — silly girl 💗

alessiarusso — cute ig

*liked by victoriapelova

___________________________

[shaythey]

Hermann deflates. “Don’t drift with the bloody brain,” he snaps. “You’ll kill yourself.”

A familiar, ominous gleam twinkles in Newton’s eye. “What a way to go, though,” he says, wistfully.

From time won't give me time by @hermannsthumb

[profoundbondfanfic]

The Bird Professor

The Bird Professor by CadenceImperfect, kateaintbeehaven, and tale_to_tell Rating: Mature Word Count: 5k

“Is this—” a voice slurs through the phone. Though its owner is obviously drunk, the voice—Dean’s voice—is deep and sort of rough, and a shiver runs down Castiel’s spine before he can really register what’s happening. “This the— the bird inspector?” “Uh.” Castiel blinks. “The bird inspector? Do you mean the bird professor?” “That’s the shit!” “What the fuck?” Gabriel mouths. Castiel. “Um, yes. This is the bird professor.” “Give it to me straight, doc, I gotta settle something,” Dean drawls. “Do hummingbirds have feet?”

Based on a funny tweet by icon and legend NorthernSparrow, this fun little fic is a quick but hilarious read. Dean gets into a disagreement at a bar about whether hummingbirds have feet and ends up calling the hot ornithology professor who teaches at the same college with him.

They are both disaster men in this one with mutual crushes. The fic also makes great use of Gabriel and Charlie as enablers-slash-bad influences. It's a memorably cute and awkward fic that has me grinning every time I revisit it.

[sexxyasia]

right there [!stepbro! luke castenllan x !fem! reader]

SUMMARY: luke's rather eager to lose his v-card, but he doesn't know who to give it to yet. until he finds out his step sister is more than willing to help him out, and even teaches him some tricks.

WARNINGS: stepcest, unprotected sex (so sad) dom reader, kinda porn w no plot, i mean there's SOME plot, fingering, uses of y/n, dick sucking, luke losing his virginity, vanilla sex, luke is a loser 🥱, mentions of luke watching porn bc why not, big dick nerd type thing, and experienced reader x virgin luke.

TYSM TO ANON FOR THIS REQUEST, I LITERALLY COULDN'T WAIT TO WRITE IT!!!

!MDNI!

༄𓇼🪩𓇼༄𓇼🪩𓇼༄

your parents weren't home, and the furnace broke mid-winter.

"here's another blanket." luke says throwing a light blue knit blanket on top of you.

"what, you're not cold?" you ask him "no, i'm freezing, i just keep moving. i guess it works when you're moving a lot and like really fast..." he replied

after thinking about it for a second you stupidly blurted out "so like sex would keep you warm?"

luke swallowed hard and giggled, "yeah, i guess. if you do it like that."

a loud silence filled the room.

"would cuddling also make you warm?" you replied trying to clear the awkwardness

"yeah, it would. any heat would probably make you less cold i guess." he said.

"then we should maybe turn on a movie and do that..." you cockily said. "okay." he replied rather quick.

༄𓇼🪩𓇼༄𓇼🪩 𓇼༄

the two of you turned rubbed closer and closer warming up under a big white blanket.

your eyes got heavy at the movie luke picked; die hard. this was his all time favorite movie but you couldn't stand it.

"what, you don't like this?" luke giggled.

"no, i hate this. you're such a weirdo for picking this weird ass movie. and it kinda reminds me of you..." you replied in an annoyed sigh.

"how!" luke said in an offended tone.

"this movie is just one big virgin fest, like you and your friends." you laughed, obviously not being genuine.

but of course luke didn't catch onto your sarcasm. "how'd you know." he seriously answered.

you're still thinking the two of you were just having a flirty banter you added on. "just look at you, i mean it's so clear that you haven't been in pussy since the day you came out one!" you quoted.

luke pushed off of you and sank into the couch. "i'm the only virgin in my friend group, and i'm the only virgin on the soccer team...i guess i'm ready. i just haven't met anyone yet."

you finally caught on after he said that. "oh, there's nothing wrong with that. i was just joking." you frantically added.

"no it's okay. I shouldn've taken it that seriously anyways." he awkwardly said.

again, without thinking you blurted out. "i could be the right person, if you're okay with that."

lukes face lit up before he replied. "sure."

༄𓇼🪩𓇼༄𓇼🪩𓇼༄

kissing and grinding you played with lukes brown curls and rubbed along his neck, he lightly whimpered against your lips and you grinded on him faster.

"what's the matter luke." you asked after breaking the kiss, lips still inches away. "are you gonna tell anyone...?" he asks with his brown eyes looking directly into yours.

"not unless you ask me to." you reply, he shakes his head in a certain answer. "but what's the point of losing it if you're not gonna tell anyone?" you ask "to just... feel... different i guess." he delicately said.

"could we start now?" he asks without looking into your eyes like usual. you lightly giggle, "luke, do you know anything about women? i mean i'm wet but not enough to put it in yet." you say.

"then what should i do to make you more... y'know." he sincerley asked.

you rolled over on the couch so that your legs were spread you gestured him over to you.

he scooted over towards you and gulped. "you can finger me if you wanna make me wetter..."

he nodded and hovered over you, his hand ripped off your pajama pants and panties, swiftly. his index finger slowly trailed from your stomach to your clit.

"now what?" he whispered. "just keep rubbing 'til i say stop... okay?"

he shook his head 'yes' and rubbed your clit with just enough pressure and speed. when luke watched porn, he didn't just watch it, he analyzed it. so he kinda knew what he was doing already.

he looked you directly in your eyes as he rubbed faster and faster.

"okay.. okay stop!" you yelled out as he inched you closer and closer to your orgasm.

he moved so you could get up and you stripped off your shirt and bra.

"your turn." you said.

you dropped onto your knees infront of luke and gulped. "what're you gonna do?" luke swallowed. "you'll see." you replied.

"take off your shirt" you demanded. he obeyed and quickly stripped out of it.

your hands fumbled with his pant waistband. before getting them around his ankles.

he was left in nothing but his calvin klein boxers, his hard cock pulsed in his underwear before you pulled it down.

woah

you'd expect luke to be pretty average, like around 4.5-5. you hadn't expected luke to be this big. he was probably around 7-8...

you slowly licked his tip and watched as his eyes fluttered shut and his mouth slowly fell open.

your touch wondered all over his veiny cock as he tried to hold in his moans.

stroking slowly you wrapped your mouth all the way around his cock, meeting your hand with your lips.

slightly gagging you took as much as you could. occasionally looking up at luke and seeing him try his best to hold in his moans

his big calloused hands wandered to the back of your head and he lightly massaged the back of your head.

as luke got more into it you pulled of and sat on the couch.

"c'mere luke." he gulped and walked over, he awkwardly sat next to you.

in a swift move you rolled over and straddled his lap.

"i'm gonna ride you ok?" he shook his head in agreement as you dropped down on his cock, letting your wet cunt adapt to his big shape.

he groaned at the velvety wetness of your pussy. his hands gripped the couch cushion as you rode him at a medium pace.

"you like that." his eyes were closed tightly as your cunt fluttered around him.

he nodded and grinded into you while you rode him. in amazement your head fell back and your eyes shut.

you could feel luke throbbing inside of you while you moved, causing you to be filled with ecstasy.

the both of you moved quicker and quicker until a loud moan left lukes mouth.

"sorry" he whispered. his hot seed filled you up and dripped all over his cock and inside your cunt.

"it's not that serious" you breathily whispered to him.

his head fell back and he caught his breath. "so how do you feel now?" you asked.

"i dunno, different... kinda like i hoped." you smiled to him and rested your head on his shoulder.

"we should probably get dressed before our parents get home." you added

comment to be added to my luke taglist

@jade-is-jaded

(yes, i did quote jcole's wet dreamz bc why not)

[fic-rec-time]

my love is mine, all mine

by silverbindings

Hazbin Hotel/Complete/Chapters: 1 Words: 4,455

The song gets louder, and Alastor is still sitting up, staring at him with wide eyes, smile small and dumbfounded. Lucifer catches a few words, louder than the static, and Alastor must notice, because he's glaring at the air, as if that'll make it stop, because the song, without a doubt, is a sappy, longing, love song.

"Turn it up, Al." Lucifer laughs out, and Alastor turns fully red at that, especially when the song does exactly that.

-

or; Charlie inadvertently wingmans for her dad, because these two emotionally stunted idiots wouldn’t know love if it was singing directly at them

//

This had me giggling like a fool. Absolutely adorable, and the character interactions feel so real. I especially love Charlie and Lucifer’s scene. Contains some of my fave Alastor headcanons and all the cutest AppleRadio stuff. Who knew I’d fall this hard into a ship so quickly?

(Who am I kidding I do it all the time.)

[everinlove]

me when i’ve read all the luke castellan fics i can find so i have to start writing my own to fill a void

ps pls put ideas in my inbox i need motivation !

[destiel-wings]

think about the potential of charlie living in the bunker with dean and cas for a while

[kaz2y5baby]

I'm going back into my Top Gun obsession phase. I was kinda hesitant on reading Top Gun fics but...Ajajaisjdh

I NEED Maverick x Iceman fic recs so badly

I just rewatched the 1st one and like omg Maverick had so much more chemistry with Iceman than Charlie lol

[froidefille]

Day 5: a romantic fic

📚 Wield Me by @tackytigerfic

Draco/Harry + Teddy (or as the author has smartly labelled it – „a Drarry fic but with some Teddy kissing”), 10k, E

Summary:

Draco Malfoy, blacksmith, is renowned through the magical world for his skill and exquisite creations. He could quite easily spend the rest of his days making pretty trinkets for the fae court, and being handsomely rewarded for the privilege. But why take the easy route when instead he could get involved in a dangerous mission with Unspeakable Harry Potter (who also happens to be Draco's... well, he's something, isn't he? A little story about learning to strike while the iron is hot.

Hiiiiiii, I am a bit behind schedule, but I’m still here!! And it’s all Tacky’s fault to be honest, whole of my fic part of brain was taken hostage by their newest WIP First Watch of Night. Go and check it out so you can understand my poor brain’s state of mind.

Anyway! For today’s (eee 3 days ago's? 😇) prompt I have chosen another one of Tacky’s stories, which I have inhaled some time ago and which hasn’t left my (poor, poor) brain since. I was a bit hesitant about Teddy’s involvement before I started it and after, well... I have been converted to Drarry + Teddy triad forever. It has been my obsession from this very day :D

I love a good competent boys fic and competent craftsman is even better. And here, all three of them tick the box in their own way. I love the striking difference between Harry and Draco who are mature and more down-to-earth while Teddy is boisterous, fearless (in an afraid-but-still-does-it way). With a hint of ignorance even, typical for his age and so like Harry whe he was his age.

Long story short, Draco makes a sword for Teddy, at Harry’s request. The way the creation process is thought of and described is magical all in itself. My favourtie part is, of course, that it demands the magical involvement of all three of them. Not to mention all the flower symbolism for which I have a special soft place in my heart:

„Lupin flowerheads, of course. Yarrow for protection, and courage. Sunflowers—a bit on the nose, Draco thought, but they didn’t have to be subtle about this. Celandine too, for escape, Draco reciting the names and meaning of each blossom as they took it in turns to drop them into the dark water.”

„(...) azaleas for homesickness and the desire to return to a place of safety, yellow roses for family. Not to mention all the runework they had spent hours working on. Draco rolled his eyes at them. Othala. Harry had traced it over and over in the water, and then Draco had hammered the essence of it into the metal with his sweat and his fire. Homecoming.”

Not to mention the sword has the wolf’s head pommel, contains grains of stag horn and Remus’s wedding band. The blade’s name is Lux and it’s a she, PLEASE SOMEONE DRAW IT.

The very idea of why they need the sword is a fandom special, lots of us masterminding about this particular mystery. Reading this text, I thought this mission could actually work. Such a smart idea! I don’t want to spoil the details, so you’ll have to go and read it for yourself to find out :D PLUS, I love the symbollism of Teddy going into this mission with vital artifacts from both Harry and Draco. It gives the protection sentiment - I would personally love to palpably have something from the man (men xd) I love, were I to leave for whatever reason. It would provide reassurance, I think, without them even being one-of-a-kind magical artifacts.

Anyway, if producing and sharing something for protection of your loved ones is not the very definition of romantic, then I really don’t know what is 😅

Spoilers under the cut with some of my favourite quotes, mainly revolving around the H/D+T dynamics. There’s a lot, so think hard about reading on, maybe it’s just better to go ahead and have a quick read, it’s 10k after all, and what’s that for us, professional readers 😂

Thanks a lot for today @hprecfest and @tackytigerfic and see you in the next one!

🌻🌺🌾 ᛟ 🌒⚡🐺

“You can’t tell me that Draco Malfoy—the man who forged Brighthelm from the depths of Fiendfyre, who created unbreakable chain mail while still a seventh year apprentice, the guy being hailed as the new Wayland—can’t make a Sword of Light?”

My inner fantasy-loving fangirl beamed reading about forging „forged Brighthelm from the depths of Fiendfyre” and „new Wayland” (TMI, anyone? Jace Wayland? Parabatai, the like? No, only me? Well, for me it rang the bell and added some feels xd) and SWORD OF LIGHT, my god *sweats*

„Harry was close to Teddy, though; it was obvious from the way he spoke of him, fondly and often. They worked together now, even, Teddy following Harry into first the DMLE and then the Unspeakables. There had even been those rumours a year or two ago—not that they were any of Draco’s business, really, but he could hardly avoid the whispers that went round about the Saviour and his impossibly handsome godson. Draco had resolutely never asked Harry about Teddy though. After all, Harry was a free man, technically; he and Draco had never discussed putting a name on what they were doing. And really, it wasn’t fair to even read the rot the Prophet printed, let alone believe half of it. Certainly Harry seemed… godfatherly, somehow, when he spoke about Teddy, the name easy in his mouth.”

Godfatherly, my ass xd

“Good boy,” Draco said archly, stung into it despite himself, and then there was a hideous moment of awkward silence as Teddy and Harry turned to look at him in surprise, Harry with a sudden high flush on his cheeks. Interesting, Draco thought.

I freaking gulped at this one, Draco has those two figured out!

„Harry grinned at him, that smile of his that made him look about twenty years younger and made Draco want to rip through universes for him. Anything to keep him smiling like that.”

RIP THROUGH UNIVERSES TO KEEP HIM SMILING LIKE THAT 😭

And the below delicious relationship building in all directions *melts*

„Teddy, for his part, stayed close to Harry, attentive to his every movement in a way that Draco soon realised was meant to be subtle.”

„This must be intentional, then, this determined offering of his true face, that had echoes of Draco’s own in the particular grey of the eyes, the clear complexion, the stubborn edge of the jawline.”

Teddy looking similar to Draco and Harry loving them both just gets me

“I’ll see you home, Teds,” Harry said, as though Teddy Lupin, Unspeakable, might need his hand held through his Apparition. Draco kept his face smooth and unbothered. Teddy, damn him, just smiled at Harry, eyes lit up as though sunrise had come early.

“Be careful, Ted,” Harry said, and his voice was steady, the only bright, cheerful thing in the room. “You know the procedure. In and out fast, no unnecessary risks. I’ll see you when you get back.” He reached for Teddy as though to pat him on his half-invisible shoulder, and at the last minute his hand hovered and then settled, lightly, against Teddy’s cheek, just a fleeting touch, so tender that Draco nearly had to close his eyes. “Harry.” For the first time, Teddy’s voice wobbled. He looked up at Harry, the two of them still so close together, Harry’s hand on his cane the only barrier between them. Teddy raised his arms, let his hand rest on Harry’s shoulders, slowly, as though waiting for him to back away. He didn’t. “Can I—” There was silence in the room, and Draco saw that Teddy was looking past Harry at him. He was waiting, watching Draco, and oh, no, it was all there in the proud tilt of his head, the reluctant hopeful look in his eyes. He was asking Draco for permission.

„It was about Harry and Teddy, but now Teddy Lupin had only gone and opened the whole thing up, drawing Draco into whatever this moment was about. And Draco, curse his stupid heart, wanted to be drawn.”