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cdragons · 8 months

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Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.

Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.

You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.

“SORRY!”

You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.

After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.

There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.

You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.

Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.

“Wait, so did you get the extension?”

Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.

Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.

Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.

“Yeah…I got it.”

You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.

Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.

Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.

“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.

“Is it ever?”

“So what do you have to do now?”

“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”

As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.

“Wait, so does that mean-”

“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”

Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.

English food sucked balls.

Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.

You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.

“Did you try to report it?”

“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”

“Do you have any description of him?”

“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”

Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”

“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”

“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.

“Yeah?”

“How tall?”

“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”

“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”

Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”

“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”

You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.

“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”

Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”

“And he’s black.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.

“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”

“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”

An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.

“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”

A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”

This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.

“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”

Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.

“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”

One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.

You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.

Fuck, was his head killing him.

Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.

He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.

If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.

“You alright there, champ?”

Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.

The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.

“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”

Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.

If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.

But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.

Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.

“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”

He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.

You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.

It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.

Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.

And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.

“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”

Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.

“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”

“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”

Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.

“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”

Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”

And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.

Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.

He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.

He was desperate to learn everything about you.

If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?

If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?

If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?

If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?

If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?

If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?

Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.

“Look alive, Golden Boy.”

Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.

Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.

But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.

Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.

When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.

After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.

“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”

Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.

He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.

If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.

Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.

Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.

Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.

“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”

And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #michael gavey x reader

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niqhtlord01 · 30 days

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Humans are weird: Human cameramen are crazy

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The greatest decision Intergalactic Wave 6 ever made was hiring Reggie Bradford.

At the time of Finch’s hiring IW6 was a relatively small news organization based in the outer worlds. Barely reaching four systems on a good day compared to the top contenders like Celestial Times which was broadcasted in inner core systems and pulled in an average of twenty to thirty systems each broadcast. The anchors for IW6 were locals, a Temrelien that needed a third grade translator unit just to be barely understood and a Myporie which couldn’t see the color green.

As the underdog’s underdog, IW6 more often fed off larger stories reported by other stations or small local stories relevant to a handful of worlds. Nothing interesting happened in their corner of the universe so as long as they broke even they were fine to never reach further than the length of their arm.

Reggie Bradford was a hired on as a cameraman to work for one of the planetary studios on Orbin VIII. You’d find him either working in the back making sure the camera bots were functioning or, more often, when they weren’t he’d be manning the forty pound cameras himself. The studio crews were always amazed how this seemingly out of shape man could heft the heavy outdated camera unit like it was as light as a pen.

They wondered what a lone human was doing so far out in the boonies as he would say, but he would always shrug and say that he felt like this is where he belonged; a notion IW6 would be most grateful for in the coming days.

When the Intherax/Coalition war broke out it was the biggest news story to hit the plasma streams since the death of Empress Karen III when she was eaten by her own corganai.

The Intherax were a militaristic society, trained from birth to kill before anything else, and spanned some fifty star systems not including client kingdoms and vassals. General galactic dealings with them often boiled down to standing aside from whatever they wanted and hoping it wasn’t you or your world, lest the invasion armadas would descend and obliterate what little civilization your people had been able to achieve and then be sold into slavery.

This time however when the Intherax made a proclamation to annex the colony worlds of Jense, Shatu’a, and New Hamburg the current occupants politely told them to bugger off and formed a Coalition for mutual defense. From there dozens of governing powers flocked to the coalition and added their strength to it in what they saw as the best chance of finally checking Intherax aggression once and for all.

Ever one for a challenge, the Interax declared war on this new found coalition and opened the conflict by orbital bombarding Jense until it was little more than a cold husk of rock trapped in the decaying orbit of its system’s sun.

What followed was best described as two sides of no holds bar warfare as the Coalition retaliated with the first ever invasion of Intherax territory against the world called Kai’de.

Naturally every news organization wanted to be seen covering the war, including IW6. Sadly they did not have anyone either brave enough to send so they settled on sending someone they believed was stupid enough and sent Reggie.

They expected to get some b-roll of soldiers marching or shots of fleet warships in formation. They never expected nor asked him to go into active combat. So when the first feed came back during their late night broadcast they were surprised to see that Reggie was onboard an assault ship breaking through atmosphere.

“Reggie,” the Temrelien spoke with every other word shifting tone from the broken translator, “where are you?”

“I’m currently with brave members of the 27th Dragoons as they head to take the fight to the surface of Kai’de.”

Reggie waved a hand at the soldiers who in turn gave a rousing cheer and slammed their feet against the metal decking.

“Orders came in late last night for a massed landing to take the enemy by surprise. From what I understand the Intherax military had not expected coalition forces to invade their territory and have not had time to establish proper defenses.”

Both news anchors looked at each other in confusion.

“If that’s the case isn’t this broadcast putting the entire attack at risk?”

To their surprise Reggie laughed as the camera shook.

“The plan was to get them by surprise, but judging from the amount of anti-air fire,” he said as the assault ship rocked back and forth, “I don’t think they were fooled.”

The camera panned right suddenly as one of the armored dragoons grabbed it and spoke directly into it.

“We want them to know we’re coming! Because we’re going to kill them all!! AHAHAHAH!!”

Another chorus of cheers and whoops came from the soldiers as the soldier let go of the camera and Reggie readjusted it. The anchors wanted to continue their questions when the leader of the dragoons shouted out and interrupted them.

“60 seconds!”

With the order given the soldiers stopped their foolery and began hefting their weapons. Reggie panned the camera over them as they slapped in fresh clips or attached power cables from their backpack generators to their more heavy weaponry.

In awestruck silence the anchors and their viewers watched as the assault shuttle slammed hard into the surface and the boarding ramp flew open.

“GO GO GO GO!!!!” the dragoon leader shouted as the soldiers poured out screaming their battle cries. Reggie waited and filmed them as they disembarked but did not join the first out the ramp. A inclination that saved him as enemy gun fire began raking the ramp striking several soldiers down in clouds of viscera and gore.

The censors barely had time to cut the feed while the horrified anchors composed themselves to resume the broadcast.

In the hours that followed IW6 confirmed that Reggie had survived the battle and had been with the unit of dragoons for the entire duration. During those hours he had recorded the entire engagement from ramp down, to storming city streets as the Intherax deployed building sized walkers, to the hoisting of the coalition flag over the central governing building at the heart of the city.

With this footage viewership numbers for IW6 skyrocketed overnight as none of the other networks had been able to capture such stunning footage. In fact, by the intake of broadcasts none of them had been able to attach an anchor or cameramen to the initial assault save for Reggie. When asked how he had been able to get approved for such a deployment he did not say which only further added to the mystery. Yet for the moment IW6 was far from ready to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Reggie’s footage was shown over and over on IW6 and was soon sublicensed to other networks and shown there. Exploits of the dragoons became known galaxy wide as Reggie followed them through battle after battle; never afraid to risk his life to capture the perfect moment.

When the Intherax fleet arrived in orbit and began to bombard the planet while also fighting the coalition fleet Reggie had forgone sheltering in nearby bunker complexes to film the orbital strikes as they hurtled down all around them.

Thick columns of pure energy shattered buildings and mountains alike as the ground quaked and there stood a lone Reggie filming it all. Even when the anchors begged him to find shelter he simply panned the camera over the city to show entire skyscrapers be reduced to molten mounds the oozed and sludged through the city streets.

By the time the battle had finally ended thanks to Reggie’s footage IW6 climbed the viewership charts to be the third most watched network galaxy wide. Much to the dismay of IW6 it also drew the attention of Reggie the cameraman to the other outlets who began showering him with ever more lavish offers for employment.

Too their surprise he denied them all and said that he was right where he belonged.

#humans are weird #humans are insane #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #scifi #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #cameraman #news broadcast #space news

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traumawhomst · 19 days

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So Vampires, I won’t lie I love a platonic yandere vampire sire so much.

(1,250 words)

He sees you at your minimum wage job and at first just brushes you off as just another boring human. Then he notices the colors on your bracelet, school colors for a very expensive and exclusive school, a few (human) businesses partners he knew sent their children to that school and none of them worked for minimum wage on their free time. Between the bracelet, the callouses on your hands, and the way your eyes seemed dark and sunken, he knew everything. He left without much thought, telling himself that he didn’t care about some random human and their poor tragic life.

He told himself it was just curiosity when he looked up the current class list, (you can find anything with enough time and money) and found your name. Even in just the school photos you stuck out like a sore thumb, a wildflower in an otherwise perfectly manicured garden. A little further digging revealed you were an amazing student, even if your grades weren’t always perfect. You clearly had talent and a strong work ethic.

It’s just curiosity that makes him dig further, finding your admissions essay, in his office, finding himself smiling at some points, quietly charmed by your choice of words and styling of your essay. It had been a risk that had clearly paid off. He liked those willing to take risks, reminded him of himself when he was younger.

He might as well look further, finding your freelance writing which he poured over in chronological order a growing sense of pride in your progress over the years. Finding your work made him stumble upon your personal life.

Family, but not close, which seemed to be the theme for everyone in it. Did they know about your accomplishments? Did they even care?

He’s not very surprised when he follows you home and sees you living in a studio in an apartment with paper walls, living on a diet of instant noodles and whatever soda was cheapest for that week. How could you study living like this? You seemed to only ever work or study, taking every shift you could just to make enough to afford something a little filling than instant noodles. Surely you’re not at your best, he can’t help but wonder what you could produce given proper resources.

His colleagues laugh when he defends it all as just curiosity, and he decides to approach you in person to finally get over this little, inquiry to rest.

But you look so tired when you smile at him, you’re trying so hard to maintain the smile and he’s wondering when the last time you smiled and he realizes then, as he nods along to your explanation about whatever item he picked up, that he hadn’t seen you smile once in a week of watching you.

He could smell your blood and did his best to hide the scrunching of his nose. Wildly anemic and deficient in every vitamin and mineral that a human needed to stay upright. It set him on edge, wondering about the strain on your body it must have. Humans were so fragile already, how long could you live like this?

The thought of you dying sent a bolt of panic through him. You were young, talented, and hardworking you deserved time to flourish and grow.

It would take a few months for all the necessary paperwork to be complete and in that time he slowly builds a sort of friendship with you.

On your end an older man, (whose eye color you could never remember) started to come in at least once a week. He was sweet in a way you hadn’t expected, happy to talk about any book he or you had brought. That’s when you really noticed him, when he came in holding your favorite book. He hadn’t read it yet, and was happy to hear your small preview and talk about the major themes in it. He always managed to come in when it was slow and for some reason no one ever approached you when you two talked.

He’d said he owned a bookstore, (more than one you imagined from the amount of first editions he causally walked around with) but was visiting here for business. He told you that when you refused to take one of his very expensive first edition he tried to give you. He only relented when you explained that your apartment was rather damp and you knew that it would only degrade the book over time. Next week he showed up with the newest edition, and refused to leave with it. Really you’re doing him a favor, he’d love to hear your thoughts on it.

He wasn’t scary either, he always had this air about him that was calming. Something that made you relax and trust him, and in the few months you met him he’d never done anything make you doubt your trust in him.

He’d brought you a book to read with an immortal character in it, and asked what you’d ever take the chance if offered. The thought of being stuck in your life forever or any life really made you sick to your stomach. No you’d rather accept that your life would be finite and told him you thought life would be meaningless if you were immortal.

And for the first time, something new quickly twitch across his face. Anger? Disappointment? After months of friendly banter and discussion it was almost a slap in the face of the reality of it all. You didn’t know him, or his motives. The look only lasts a moment, before shifting to his pleasant neutral again, but you still saw it. You pretended for the rest of the conversation until he leaves. You request to a new work schedule when you finished for the day.

He on the other hand was practically spinning about it. He should have been ready for this short of answer, but he wasn’t. He’d had the conversation played a million times in his head, and you always agreed on it being a gift. He rationalized that you simply couldn’t understand it, given time you could be persuaded to see differently.

He showed up, ready to talk with you only to find out (through a heavy layer of compulsion) that you’d changed your hours to avoid Him. Time to move forward with the plan it seemed.

He found you one late night as you walked to your apartment and something about him made the hairs on the back of your neck stand-up.

He offered to walk you home, and you finally put your foot down and told him to leave you alone, as politely as you could muster. But you couldn’t seem to actually speak any of the words. What were you trying to say again?

He happily chatters on about how excited he is to show you your home, one arm around you steering you to some place you didn’t recognize. But every time you tried to say something you’d forget a little more of what was going on.

He didn’t really want it to do it this way, he told himself as he guides you in the deep state of compulsion you’re in. He wanted to win you over with the idea, to gladly accept his offer, to see it as the gift it was. But he could also admit to himself watching you try and fight the compulsion and fail, it was adorable to see the stubbornness that you had, it’d serve you well in your new life.

#me: I’ll create my millionth side blog and it won’t get any attention #me: is very wrong #but just wanted to say thanks y’all #you’ll turn my head with all this attention #be warned tho because my hyperfixations come and go #so don’t expect consistency #platonic yandere #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #yandere x you #might do a part 2 #your first little bit as an unwilling newborn vampire under his care #if you see typos let me know #stalking trigger warning #stalking tw

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wonder-mei · 3 months

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His greatest achievement (Honkai:Star Rail’s Dr Veritas Ratio)

失眠者苍 on Weibo

Reminder : I do not write accurately to the lore of the world I am writing. I write whenever there’s an idea

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Hey, who gave you those roses?” her friend asked curiously as her eyes focuses on the bouquet of red roses wrapped beautifully with cream and dark brown, and tied in cream bow

“Oh, Veritas gave them to me. Beautiful aren't they?” she takes a sniff and shows the bouquet to her friends “They are fresh picked too”

Her friends looked at each other with confused expressions. Doctor Veritas Ratio, one of the geniuses of all mankind. Knowledgeable in many academic fields, not only does he have the brain, he also has achieved a lot of achievements since he was young, surpassing every professor that is decades older. Despite his intellect, Ratio is well-known for being very egotistical and arrogant. Not one of his students ever disagrees with his lecturers or confronts the grades he gave. Because he knows he is RIGHT. Even other professors or staff do not want to mess with him.

But her. She is one of the odds. Ratio never does all of those to her. He is calm and gentle whenever she is around. There were students making a study on this privately as to why she is an exception to his egotistical and arrogant.

And the conclusion is; he is in love with her.

But she is oblivious to this fact.

“Why did Dr Ratio give you roses?”

“Oh he said his roses are overgrown so he gave me them”

“Only you?”

“Yeah, he said he does not have more to give to others”

“Also wrapped perfectly”

“He just wants to use this wrapper he bought. Don’t want to waste”

Each question regarding Ratio’s gifts she would answer them giving reasons as to why he does that but none of them because he loves her after countless of gifts he gave her. From carving a few sets of her favorite animals, buying her books and so more.

“Don’t you think he has a reason for giving you gifts?”

“Not at all. We share an office so it’s normal for officemates to give each other gifts,right?”

Her friends didn’t answer. They just stare at her “Well I have to go. My worms need some feeding”

How could a botanist be paired to share an office with the man of every knowledge in this world? It is fate. Ratio was irritated at first for having an officemate that involves themselves around plants and soil but something about her made him forget his emotions and expectations on her. It all started on that specific day…

“What are you doing?”

“Oh Ratio! You are early today” she greets him with a smile “These are my worms. I’m building a worm farm”

Ratio scowls watching the containers with dirt and few visible worms in the soil “Why are you even doing these dirty projects?”

“Everything! Worms can compose,fertilize and are eco-friendly. Can’t really depend on technology for the compose and chemical for the foods we eat,right? It is time for us to have this old tradition in our daily life”

Ratio just stood there taking her every word into deep analysis. There are already machines for everything. And they make lives easier. Who wants to do the traditional way when it's easier for that. This intrigues him. She piqued his interest. Since then, Ratio would watch her doing her odds stuff. She used all natural color for paints, learned how to speak to birds and so many odd things he can even comprehend. But, he never intervenes or corrects her ways. Her ways are too unique to stop her from doing so.

“Have you seen Ratio?” she asked one of his students when she saw them walking in the same hallway

“Dr Ratio? Nope. He dismissed today class 20 minutes early”

Strange. Ratio always uses the class time duration strictly. Starts when it starts and ends when it ends. He wasn't in their office,maybe he is in his art studio located not far from the university building. She heads to the art studio still holding the bouquet, catching everyone’s attention for how beautiful the roses are.

“Veritas?” She calls his name as she enters the building. No answers. The room was cloaked in shadows, the faint glow of twilight seeping through the half-closed window curtain but the sun shunned a tall figure covered in cloth shielding it to cause curiosity to whoever sees this. She was so inquisitive about the mysterious figure behind it,she pulled down the cloth with a swift.

As the cloth was pulled down, it revealed a beautifully carved sculpture. She stands near to it gazing at every carving trying to make out who is that. Every inch of the figure registered into her mind, every feature is hers. From the hair,eyes,nose,everything even the moles and scars. The person accurately carved her. In this piece, she is wearing a simple one piece dress and a veil. She is sitting on the ground with the texture of grass and soil. There are few birds she recognizes that she studied for communication studies. Next to the sculpture, there’s a note. It says;

She and i has no contrast,

She is the sun and moon,

Whilst i witness her beauty day and night,

From every beauty exist,

I willingly sit to see her only.

Too mesmerized by the art. She was startled when someone called her name “Veritas…”. They were too close. Her back flushes on his chest heading tilting up staring into his eyes “What is this?”

Ratio stares into her eyes for a minute “The carving of my beloved”

“What does that mean?”

The question that would frequently irritate Ratio but from her, nothing can make him get irritated by her “I have achieved and invented something that has given me praises and is well-known for it. But my greatest achievement is falling for you and only us know how my heart yearns for yours. I tried to imitate you in that sculpture but that beauty only you can have”

There it is. No ridiculous reasons for giving her gifts. Ratio confessed his love that he has kept for awhile. He too made a deep depth as to why she can get away any irks he dislikes and why her presence makes his day brighter. It all because

“My love for you is never-ending like the universe”

For now,she does not need to think of oblivious reasons as to why Ratio has gifted her gifts especially when it comes to the question of the sculpture of hers. Why? Because he loves her.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

kinda cringed a lil

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #dr ratio #veritas ratio #dr ratio x reader #veritas ratio x reader

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highvern · 7 months

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Ateez in Different NSFW Careers

Pairing: ot8

Genre: smut, 21+

Warnings: lots of sex, masturbating, porn, domination/submission, fetishes, lmk if i missed anything egregious

Note: this is an idea for a miniseries but idk and thought id put it out there to see if people are interested (dont bring up the ateez mixtape series, im working on it!) thank you @wingsofimagery @yessa-vie for listening to this brain rot

read more here

Hongjoong:

onlyfans creator, solos of him masturbating or nudes. weirdly artistic? like camera angles on point, edited to perfection, color graded. rarely, if ever, collabs with others. occasionally posts erotic photography of one unidentifiable woman. his subscribers aren't sure what to make of it but pictures of them together are some of his best work. daylights as a photographer and has some of his work in small galleries across the city.

Seunghwa:

amatuer porn star, makes homemade couple porn or something with a close female friend. domestic/bf vibes in every video. v soft with each other even when they're having rough sex. people assume they're actually dating bc of the insane chemistry even though they never show their faces. its his fun dirty little secret no one in the office knows.

Yunho:

boyfriend for hire. specializes in "turn your brain off for the night, i'll handle it." rent him to be your date to an event or just for a night on the town. doesn't always sleep with his client (his discretion) but usually cuddles and will spend the night. just trying to pay off his student loans since being an analyst pays shit. big yunho bc he has a big... u kno? and loves hearing the women he sleeps with rave about it. has had several repeat customers and older women that recommend him to their friends.

Yeosang:

audio erotica. just aside hobby for him. tbh 9/10 times forgets to record or that he even has the account. started bc a girl he was seeing freshman year of college told him she wanted a video with the sound on and he didn't know what that meant but she liked his voice enough to let the completely black screen slide. posts sporadically but always makes waves when he does. people have offered him money for custom audios and he always turns them down.

San:

fetish model. shibari, leather, latex. you name it, he's most likely modeled it. has portrait of himself (unrecongnizable, facing away just his back criss crossed with ropes, hands bound at the base of his spine) hanging in his apartment. his friends think its weird since they know he's the one in the picture but most of the girls he brings home just think he's into some freaky stuff. started bc he would nude model for the art classes at his college when he needed fast money for weed. people assume he likes really kinky sex bc of his job but he prefers vanilla sex most of the time bc his job is so kink heavy. works as a fitness instructor as his 9-5, and had a few people recognize him but most are cool and leave him alone

Mingi:

nsfw twitter creator. videos, pictures, sliding into dms. mingi does it all and enjoys the comments of people thirsting over him even if he's one dick among thousands. for his day job he works in a sex store and flirts with the exotic dancers who come in to buy their costumes (turned down every single time, there's even a pool for how quickly he'll strike out). the one girl that flirted back still lives in his brain rent free bc all she did was smile and he folded like origami. now when she comes in mingi has to remind himself not to drool.

Wooyoung:

cam boy brat, sugars on the side. likes being degraded by his audience when he's bad. lover of milfs, and has a sugar mommy he sees once a month. loves being wined and dined by her and then loved on at her fancy apartment uptown. started doing both in college to pay rent, now works at a dance studio and keeps it up bc the extra cash is nice. enamored with taking pictures during sex. has a collection of polaroids with his current FWB that he cherishes more than anything (always carries one in his phone case). toyed with the idea of having her come on his streams but he doesn't want to share. he should probably look into that more.

Jongho:

dungeon dom (IDK), the kind thats a look don't touch dom. if you need a session to work through your stress, go to him. sexy spanking, punishment spanking, therapy spanking. he's got the knowledge and know how. has a strange collection of vintage dvds and magazines. rare stuff that he treats like art rather than smut. jongho i never want to speak on your name im sorry

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

#ksmutsociety #kvanity #cromernet #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atz fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez angst #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #🫡 highvern

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itsonlydana · 7 months

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THRANDUIL'S GUIDE TO: LOOSING A JOB / WINNING A HEART | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader 👑

You are late for work and sure that your boss will sack you. Instead, Thranduil takes you and his kids to the park, and somehow the day takes a turn for the better.

tags/warnings: modern!AU, nanny!AU, mutual pining; characters: Thranduil, young!Legolas, young!Tauriel; rating: sfw

wordcount: 8,4k

an: sorry sorry sorry for not updating "passenger princess"; please take this as a small apology. I'm posting this after watching 'anyone but you' so know i'm dancing and singing rn

+ general m.list +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

The subway doors shut close with a squeak, mere seconds after you stepped out. They gave you barely any time to think about whether you had everything important with you before the train hissed away again, disappearing into the dark tunnels that twisted like endless labyrinths beneath the city.

Not that you had the time for it; anything forgotten was lost, and you were already far too late to mourn a possibly left-behind lip balm.

Pressing your bag tightly against your side, you joined the stream of people, moving like an army of ants from the platform to the escalators.

It took a while before you could step onto the moving steps – of course, the third grade that had already been on the train when you had rushed in left at the same stop as you.

Screaming, uncontrollable children surrounded you, and you did your best not to make eye contact with any of them, impatiently staring at the approaching exit, the clear sky finding its way through high towering glass buildings.

As a very rude man in sportswear pushed ahead, mumbling swear words that the nanny in you wanted to scold him for, one of the kids stumbled against your legs.

Clammy hands grasped at the coat shielding you from the brisk autumn winds, its numerous inner pockets offering a secure haven for your valuables against the avaricious hands of pickpockets. Gazing downward, you found yourself locking eyes with a boy, his wide blue eyes reminding you that you were so so late...

You gave him an encouraging smile, causing the child to loosen his grip but he didn't let go until you reached the fresh air outside.

Out of habit, you quickly bent down, ignoring the complaints of an elderly lady behind you, and zipped up his bright orange jacket.

It was still early in the morning, the air cold, coloring the tips of noses and cheeks in blushes. Even if you didn't know this child, no parent would be happy to take a day off because of a sick child; especially not here.

Once the boy was properly bundled up, his big smile disappearing behind the fleece of the jacket, you straightened up and made your way through the crowd of people.

Somewhere in your pockets, your phone vibrated now that there was a reception and bombarded you with all the messages that didn't reach you in the last twenty minutes underground.

The sidewalk was bustling, shoulders pushing against shoulders, making it impractical to fish out the phone at the moment; it felt like a time-wasting endeavor, and the chance that you would start crying if anyone snapped at you for slowing down was far too high.

This whole morning left you on the brink of a meltdown, the stress bubbling under the surface, an itch under your skin that didn't want to leave you–

Opting for a brisk walk, you maneuvered through the lively streets of New York, a city of grand dreams that, at the moment, felt a bit out of reach.

Three years ago, following a string of peaceful years growing up in your quiet suburb, one of the Universities you had applied to offered you a full scholarship.

That led to packing up all your possessions, and you transitioned from the comfort of your familiar childhood room to a cramped studio, outweighed by more "cons" than "pros."

You initially went with the expectation of finally fulfilling the big dream, only to realize that living the dream in New York brought problems with them– like an expensive water and electricity bill, unfriendly neighbors that stole the washing machines and dropped your clothes onto the floor, and the inescapable feeling of loneliness amid millions.

After uni, one odd job followed another; "dishwasher in a food truck" and "Christmas-card door-to-door selling with Girl Scouts" were some of the tamer examples.

You did what you had to do, even if that sometimes involved horrendous pay for even more horrific work hours.

Sure, they were definitely experiences , but many of them were the kind that your parents used as a reason to convince you to come back home.

They were right on some level, there were nights you cried sitting alone on the floor of your apartment until the neighbors below you knocked on their ceiling, complaining about the noise, but these evenings were few and far between.

Ever since you got your current job it had reduced to once or twice a month!

It was by far the best on the now 40-line long list of abandoned "experiences." It was flexible, paid more than enough, and you actually looked forward to the days you had to work.

At first, you couldn't believe your eyes when Thranduil Oropherion (the Thranduil Oropherion, multimillionaire and head of the 'Greenleafs Children's Book Publishing' well before hitting thirty, face of the Times on many occasions) contacted you through an unknown babysitter matchmaking site.

Fortunately, the site wasn't so unknown that someone could pretend to be him; otherwise, you wouldn't have engaged in the subsequent chat, where you shared your babysitting experiences with him, and you certainly wouldn't have gone to the first meeting.

It had been in a small café near Central Park, and thankfully not at some fancy Italian place, as your remaining money for the month wouldn't have covered elegant evening wear.

Mr. Oropherion, Thranduil, as he insisted daily, was, unsurprisingly as attractive in person as the press had described.

You had seen pictures, heard of his name, maybe even looked him up once or twice ever since you started babysitting rich kids who had his books lining their shelves without reading them once. They were the kind of children who said "Please" nearly as often as "Thank you."

Close to never.

After being confronted with the beautifully bound books in most of their study rooms, you had googled the Green Leaf emblem, only to have the picture of the hottest man you have ever seen pop off.

The legs that went on for days, the long blonde hair, the warm voice sending chills down your spine as he explained his need for a new sitter- funny how you had no idea what the reason was, but knew exactly how his dark brows had furrowed and raised, how his voice had dropped lower on some words and higher on others.

Easy to say that you wasted no second after he asked you if you still wanted the job (still? To this day it was a mystery what he meant with that, lost in daydreams about his blue eyes and the firm handshake) for you to agree.

One contract signing later, and you were officially the babysitter of the sweetest kids you have ever met.

Legolas and Tauriel not only listened to you, but they even cooperated and never caused trouble when it came to bedtime or leaving the park. They naturally reached for your hand on the street, ate their vegetables obediently, and even when you had to be strict on rare occasions, it never took long for the sulking faces to light up again.

It wasn't just the children that you took a liking to.

The initiate awe of meeting Thranduil turned into a full-blown crush faster than you could have blinked; a sentiment you would only ever confide in your diary.

The prospect of explaining how sad it was to fall in love with your remarkably young boss was not inviting, and you would do your best to avoid those conversations.

Falling in love with someone in a position of authority, who paid you for your services monthly, particularly in a role where you cared for his children, was not an ideal situation.

Nevertheless, you found yourself deeply infatuated with – his looks, charm, smile, and the way he effortlessly made you forget all worries when he returned home, embraced by his children, eager to hear every intricate detail of their day.

And yours.

Falling for him had happened quickly, too quickly to really think about how it could affect your job in the case of an outburst of feelings, whether accidental or intentional.

You saw it as a kind of adventure, like diving into a novel where you could experience the feelings of love without ever wanting to address them.

And sometimes, when there was just the two of you left at the dinner table and he would offer you wine and a smile, you had the impression the conversations turned into teasing and flirting.

It was important for you to keep this job, which is why the fear of getting fired for being late today made your legs move, and you managed to cover the usual fifteen-minute relaxed walk despite the piercing cold air in your nose and lungs in seven minutes.

Eight minutes earlier, and still twenty-three minutes late, you arrived at one of the many towering skyscrapers, with glowing cheeks and sweat drops rolling down your temples.

The doorman in the lobby looked at you with an understandable and sympathetic look through his small glasses before letting you enter the elevator and pressing the button for the Oropherion residence.

The minute it took to reach the 53rd floor - 53, seriously, that's an absurd number of floors - you loosened the red scarf around your neck, finally being able to breathe without it feeling like you swallowed ice, and unbuttoned your coat to fish out your phone.

As soon as the screen lit up, all other messages faded away.

Except for one–

Thranduil O.: I write to inform you that...

Dizziness, not from the height you must be at, but from the thoughts of all the stressful evenings when you had called through stores and sent resumes one after another.

You knew how much your boss valued punctuality; he relied on you to arrive at the agreed-upon time so he could leave for work in peace, and today, you had disappointed him.

He was a nice man, friendly but strict in important matters.

You had witnessed more than once how icy he could become when his driver had picked him up late for reasons within his control, and so far, you were glad not to have experienced that side of him.

Was he late today? What if he had an important meeting or had to sign contracts? What if he could pack up the publishing house because of you? (That this was more than unlikely didn't cross your mind at the moment, but much later)

With trembling hands, you tried to unlock your phone before the elevator reached the penthouse, but you failed several times at entering your password, fingers hitting the wrong numbers, which didn't help your agitated mood.

At the same moment, you finally managed to enter your password correctly and access your messages from the lock screen, the loud ping of the elevator startled you.

Quickly, you slipped your phone into your pocket again and prepared for the worst, like bidding farewell to the sweetest children on earth and the best boss, who would easily hire a new sitter.

The doors opened the same moment a piercing scream echoed through the apartment, high in pitch and undoubtedly Tauriel.

"No no no no"

The worst scenario sprung into your mind, the children left alone and hurt, climbing on expensive furniture, and possibly injured, all because your alarm didn't ring.

As fast as your legs could carry you, you ran into the adjacent living area from where the crying had come. "Tauriel?" you called out; the children should know that you were there now and could help.

But the next words died on your tongue, didn't make it over your panicky opened lips.

The image of an injured Tauriel and an apartment thrown into chaos faded with the last bit of breath in your lungs.

Nowhere were traces of such chaos; nothing was out of place, except for the children's toys, like some dolls and Lego pieces scattered on the oakwood floor.

There were no injuries, no tears, and no abandoned children.

There, on the floor in front of the gray couch, was Thranduil, stretched out on the usually neatly arranged sofa cushions, a screaming Tauriel balanced on his raised hands and a laughing Legolas stretched across his stomach, trying to reach for his sister.

You didn't know what happened to your thoughts.

Why they strayed away from the fact that Thranduil was here, at home, while he should be at work, and that this was surely your last day, and instead clung to the happy family image that you had envied for several months now.

Then Thranduil's gaze fell on you, and your heart stumbled over the smile on his face. The children also looked up, joyfully calling your name, and you waved to them, a forced smile on your lips.

You only had one chance to explain, one chance to save this beloved job before it slipped through your fingers. "I'm so sorry for being late, Thranduil," you started, wrapping your arms around yourself for support. "You probably want a proper apology that can explain all this, but as inexcusable as it is, I overslept. The power went out at my place last night, and my phone couldn't charge, so my alarm didn't ring. I'm really really sorry, and I want to make it up."

You took a deep breath. Tears were swelling in the corners of your eyes, threatening to break out every second, and you struggled to blink them away; your apology was pathetic enough without tears.

Thranduil slowly got up, gently placing the confused-looking Tauriel on the small coffee table and took a few steps towards you, causing your concentration to waver for a moment.

Why wasn't he wearing a suit like usual? Normally, he was already dressed for work every morning. Today, however, he wore black straight-cut trousers and a dark blue knit sweater that was covered in gray couch pillow lint.

He spoke your name softly, much too soft for the conversation that would follow.

Now he would fire you; now you could say goodbye to everyone, and from tomorrow on, you would only be able to admire this beautiful face in newspapers.

"I'll make it up to you, but please don't fire me!"

With an expression of pure horror, Thranduil bridged the meters between you and pulled you into a surprising hug, stifling any sob. His hand lovingly patted your back, stroking in circular motions over your shoulder blades.

"Ada, what's wrong?"

"Legolas, Tauriel," he turned his head, one hand cupping your neck, and spoke in a soft voice, "could you please to go your rooms? Give us a minute, alright?"

Immediately, you wanted to pull away; he was your boss, and he shouldn't send his children away just because you were upset about your own mistakes.

Thranduil didn't let go though; he continued to hold you tightly in his strong arms as if the boundary between your roles in this relationship didn't exist.

"What nonsense led you to think I would fire you?" Thranduil asked after a while.

Slowly lowering his arms, he silently allowed your heart a moment to mourn the warmth of his body, a last moment before he stepped back, and you feared you might never be so close to him again.

Instead, he surprised you by reaching for your hand and leading you over to the couch, stepping around the thrown-around cushions on the carpet.

Waiting for you to sit, he joined you, surprisingly close.

"I did write to you that I have a day off today and would love to spend it with all of you," he said, patting your knee and seeking your downward gaze.

Your already reddened cheeks flushed even more. Perhaps you should have checked your messages right after leaving the subway. Then you wouldn't have embarrassed yourself so much in front of Thranduil, a man whose respect meant more to you than anything else, and especially you wouldn't have caused a scene in front of the children.

"Unfortunately, I didn't see that," you admitted, quietly and ashamed.

The man beside you nodded in understanding, his hand still on your leg.

With each touch, a tingling fire spread from that spot through your entire body, to your rapidly beating heart.

He had been doing this more often lately, guiding you with a hand on your back or brushing over your shoulders when helping you with your coat.

Sometimes, the occasional, slightly longer-than-necessary handshake left your knees weak, and even now, his touch burned through the fabric of your pants, as if a sitcom-worthy handprint might be etched there.

"It happens to the best of us," him excluded of this, the man was never late, never forgot, and worst of all, never broke down crying "-please don't fret over this any longer. Everything is alright."

You nodded, sniffling when he stretched to the coffee table and offered you a tissue, handed over with one of his infuriating smiles.

"Thanks," you dabbed the tissue against your cheeks, trying to wipe away the blush and surely ugly puffiness as well as the tears, "I'm still sorry for-" you pointed to your face, "-all this. This probably wasn't how you wanted your day off to start"

Thranduil tilted his head slightly, long blond hair cascading over his shoulder, which he now nudged against yours. "Hey, we have a rule in this house, y'know? No crying unless it's during a movie, book, or when I cooked"

The laugh you let out sounded more like a snort, which is embarrassing in itself though Thranduil only nudged you again in good humor, "So, if you don't want me to punish you for this utterly inexcusable rulebreaking, then you should quickly smile again"

"Oh no!" you exclaimed, wiping away some more tears, before biting down a smile, "I could not handle watching Frozen 2 again this week"

The Oropherion household was most prestigious with Thranduil representing the largest book publishing company in the country, and his two exemplary children, so of course, punishment for any rulebreaking of this kind was a movie night- movie chosen by the youngest (if she wasn't the one breaking the rules).

"Again?" Thranduil raised his eyebrows, then patted your leg condescendingly, "Have I ever told you how strong you are, my dear?"

Ignoring the stutter your heart makes at the nickname and carefully filing the moment away for later, you shook your head, "You have no idea. I had barely picked them up from school yesterday when Tauriel snitched on Legolas for tripping another boy- he did it as an act of self-defense.. well he defended Aragorn but we do not know that if anyone official calls, and then for that Legolas tripped her and so I spend the evening yet again in the company of Olaf and Anna."

As you recount the eventful first day of the week, you could hear and feel Thranduil snicker, his whole body shaking where it pressed against yours- legs, thighs, shoulders.

"Wow, just.. oh my," Thranduil exhaled, and there laid a fondness in his blue eyes, a softness in the corner of his mouth, that washed away the stern businessman, leaving no room for anyone else but a young father, who soaked up every moment of his kid's lives, scared they were growing up too fast.

"Anyway, I shouldn't just sit around and ramble," you crumpled up the tissue in one hand, using the other to brush away some hair.

Conjuring your best smile, the one reserved for him and only him, you linger for one second on the warmth of his body this close to you, before squaring your shoulders. "Soo, thanks for not firing me, I appreciate it and swear that I'll check my phone in the morning to not cause you this much trouble again"

Thranduil's eyebrows twitched, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't staring at him constantly. "I wouldn't have fired you," he said, honest and completely serious; you shrink together, just like the paper tissue. He continues, voice grave and his eyes focused on you, "Not because of something like that, not because of a little thing you are not responsible for. And even if you were, I think we're long past the point where I'd want to fire you, no matter what"

You stare at him, mouth slightly agape, and you want to ask him what he meant by that or if he meant to say it like he did, but no words come out.

Thranduil takes your speechlessness in, his lashes fluttering softly as he closes his eyes, tipping his head to the side. Another barely noticeable change in his demeanor, this time the hint of a smile, that quickly disappears again.

A call from Tauriel shattered the atmosphere between you, and you pulled yourself together.

"Let's just let it go," Thranduil said, this time his mouth curved into a full smirk.

You glare at him, forcing yourself to stand up. "I hate you"

You didn't, but there was no need to add that since the smile and blush on your face gave that away as much as any words would.

Still smirking at you, Thranduil yelled "Yes, Tauriel, you can come back in" and as soon as he finished the two children you loved so dearly rushed into the living room.

While Legolas immediately spilled over the back of the couch like liquid and rolled face first into the small space between his father and the couch, Tauriel nearly toppled over her own feet racing toward you.

She collided with your legs without slowing down.

Unlike Legolas, who was a spitting image of his father with his bright blue eyes and blond hair, Tauriel had inherited her red hair and freckles from her mother, who was only mentioned by Thranduil, if at all, with a dismissive snort, as if it were part of her name.

However, he had every right to do so.

After all, he did rush into the hospital on Christmas-Eve nine years ago, thinking that from then on, Christmas would have the table decked for four, not two, and he left with two children barely a day old and already burdened with a mother who had lost all interest in them.

She had left the hospital when Thranduil had been asleep, his children close to his chest as he grew from boy to single father in one night.

"What are we going to do today?" Tauriel asked, her hands grabbing the coat you still hadn't shed.

"Well, we could go to the park?" you offered and brushed some of her hair out of her face, "Or do you want to let your Ada decide?"

She pulled a face, twisting her lips in an adorable pout. "Noo, then he will go to a museum and they are soo boooring"

Thranduil cleared his throat, looking thoroughly outraged- as well as one could with his other child climbing over his back and tugging his hair. "Tauriel, I thought you loved our trip to the History Museum!"

There was a pause where Tauriel contemplated what to say, before pulling her lips into a smile and swiping her hand at the air: "Oh, yes, Ada, I really love going to the History Museum with you."

Then, turning to you and rolling her eyes in a matter that was surely an imitation of all the adult chit-chat she had caught and not even close to the behavior of a nine-year-old, she faux-whispered: "Don't fall for my tricks, I just don't want to see him sad"

You weren't even close to fast enough to cover the laugh that bubbled out of your throat with a cough.

"She just goes there because there is a boy in our class that she wants to impress," Legolas piped up, his feet dangling over Thranduil's shoulders while his blonde hair was sticking to his father's back.

"Not true!" Tauriel snapped back.

"SO true, she looooves-"

"Do not!"

"Yes, you do!"

"NO, I do not!"

"You-"

"HEY!" you cut into the back and forth that surely would have ended in punches or more tears, "If anyone says anything there will be no trip to the park, the museum or to wherever you want to go today!"

You fixated the twins with a warning stare that left no room for discussion and it even seemed to shut up Thranduil, who had opened his mouth and now, slowly and looking at you, closed it again.

"Thank you," you crossed your arms in front of your chest, "Now, I don't see beaks or feathers on the both of you so I'll ask you to refrain from squawking and cackling, and Legolas if you want to tease your sister about a boy, should I tell her about-"

"NO!" the boy screamed and immediately, realizing his mistake of speaking out of turn, clapped both hands in front of his mouth, leaving his blue eyes to plead.

Not that you would have said anything; whether it was Aragorn or that boy, Kili, you would never dare to spill the secrets that they whispered to you when you tugged them in.

You nodded once.

It was enough for the boy to relax, slipping onto the couch bare of cushions, and curling his arms around his father's neck.

It was an endearing, yet very exhausting trait of the boy to be unable to stop moving, always climbing things, restlessly skipping around when he was supposed to do his homework.

"Go and put on your boots, coats, and yes- Legolas, even your scarf and hat, and no- Tauriel, you did not forget them in school, I picked them up yesterday and put them into your bag"

There was not much grumbling, well, Tauriel muttered something close to a curse under her breath but at your sharp gaze, she opened her mouth in such a wide smile, baring two rows of teeth, that it looked strained, and Legolas made his protest clear in changing in and out of at least five sweaters before settling on one the same ink-blue as his fathers.

Said father continued to stifle his laughter while you stood in the hallway, waiting until the coat rack was nearly empty and the children had their coats zipped up, their boots tied, their necks covered in scarfs and two pairs of hands had gloves dangling from them.

Said father also came up behind you, when the twins were busy forming plans on what this day would come to, maybe an adventure in the park, or a walk through the aquarium, and you felt his hands brush over your shoulders, as he leaned to whisper in your ear and cause shivers to prickle down your spine despite the warm clothes:

"What a shame that I miss you this assertive most of the time, it looks good on you"

He must have heard the gulp of your throat, must have felt the buckling of your knees, but alas, he said nothing more and the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

It was what he was good at, swiping you off your feet with comments like this and touches like that, leaving you dazed and wondering if you had imagined it all or if that twinkle in his eyes truly was as flirtatious as you thought it to be.

"Okay so, shall we go?"

You caught Thranduil's smirk as he grabbed his coat as well.

His hands were quick to fasten the shiny buttons, working their way up from the bottom in seconds, and as he pulled his long hair out to toss it over his shoulders, the elegant length of his fair neck flashed into view.

Frozen in place, your gaze lingered on the curve of his cheekbones, the pointed ears, and quickly you looked away before he turned his attention from Legolas back to you and might have caught you staring.

It was truly unfair how beautiful he was, wearing the fitted coat, snug at his small waist and highlighting the broad of his shoulders, the midnight blue color being the perfect color for his blonde hair to look like starlight and sunshine all at once.

He drew looks onto him wherever he went and not because of his wealth or business– those were things New Yorkers didn't care about if he passed them on the streets.

He was simply breathtaking, and that he had a daughter skipping over puddles reflecting the clear blue sky and a son babbling while he listened and laughed and answered was more of a magnet than he maybe realized.

In fact, he never seemed to notice the heads turning, the heart eyes that mothers and young women watched him with, and the appreciating nods of handsome men. The ogling and giggling, the sighs and gasps, murmurs and whispers.

Not from strangers but certainly he had the talent to catch the slighted exhale of breath from you whenever you lost yourself in his elegant figure, watching and dreaming as he played with his children or washed the dishes, his back turned to you to examine his muscles straining against the stretch of his shirt.

He teased you for it, lips curving into smiles, eyebrows raising in a wiggle, arms lifting to reveal a sliver of toned stomach.

Even now, as you crossed the street to enter Central Park, the constant pull of Legolas on your right arm left you to slightly tumble into Thranduil, shoulders knocking against shoulder and you glanced up at him to apologize only to find a smirk already tugging on the left corner of his mouth.

The air is still quite chilly, leaving you to lift your nose in the direction of the February sun, albeit a long way from warming you up, it was enough to ease on the frost nipping at your skin.

The children were tugging you into the direction of their favorite playground, hats bouncing at the excited steps that were nearly too fast to hold them back, boots stomping as they made a game of pulling you.

Their happiness was brighter than any sommer light, the teasing from the apartment long forgotten as the roads curved and dew-kissed gras made way for sand and rubber flooring.

They stormed off as soon as Thranduil and you let go of them, scrambling away to conquer the climbing towers and slides and most assuredly end up befriending some if not all of the other kids that are playing under the watchful eyes of parents sitting on the many benches scattered around the place.

Thranduil and you settled onto a weathered bench, positioned directly beneath a skeletal tree that, in a matter of weeks, would burst into bloom, but for now, stood adorned only with bare branches reaching towards the heavens.

Thranduil folded his hands in his lap, starting by delicately pinching at the fingertips of one glove.

With graceful precision, he slipped his slender hand out, exposing his milky skin to the chill, repeating the process with agonizing slowness on the other hand.

The ritual held your undivided attention, captivating you as you watched those slender hands gradually unfasten the first button of his coat.

As if that weren't bad enough, he proceeded to loosen the red scarf wrapped around his neck, a vibrant contrast against the wintry backdrop.

Your mouth felt almost devoid of moisture as you struggled to comprehend.

Huddled deeper into the folds of your own coat, you shot him a reproachful glance. "I don't get how you aren't cold," you muttered, your words punctuated by a shiver.

He made a show of popping another button of his coat. "Tze, how could anyone be cold in this weather?" Thranduil angled his face toward the sun, "I dare say that this is the perfect weather for a long walk"

You scoffed, "Oh, here we go again. I can't wait for you to open up the window later and tell me that the winds are just a slight breeze. It's unfair, you know? Some of us freeze just by looking at you carelessly throwing that scarf away"

Thranduils squinted his eyes, seemingly contemplating whatever was going on his beautiful head and before you could say anything else he had raised his arms and wrapped the scarf around the smaller one you already wore.

Your mouth fell open in surprise, the blood rushing into your cheeks as he busied himself tugging here and there and then had the gall to pull so that you had your mouth full of scarf.

It not only smelled like his perfume but tasted like it as well.

"There, now you are best equipped for this blizzard-like cold!" he chuckled and when you tried to pull the scarf away, he held one of the ends so that it slipped to cover your ears. "Oops, my fault-"

"Thranduil!" was what you wanted to say though the fabric made it sound more like "Franfuil" which made him only laugh louder. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the amusement showing itself in their baby blues.

Thinking that he maybe just did it for a joke, you wanted to free yourself from it.

His cold hands coming to rest upon yours with his long slender fingers covering yours, halted the movement.

"I can't wear your scarf," you said meekly and made another attempt though with not much force.

You wanted to wear his scarf, wanted to sit on this bench with all the other parents passing you and seeing his claim, his scarf wrapped around your neck, but this was another dream, not something that really happened.

He was just joking, wasn't he?

"Tze," Thranduil swatted at the air and clicked his tongue. "Why not? You said it yourself, you are freezing because of me. Let me offer you some warmth and don't tell me this scarf isn't wondrous. The wool is from irish sheeps-"

He continued talking, and you sunk back into the bench, nose buried into the fabric that carried his scent.

The scarf did help, although it wasn't just because of the added expensive layer but because of the hands that had wrapped it as well.

"and thus this scarf is the best way to keep your poor freezing body self. Imagine what the kids would say if they came back and you sat here like an iceberg. We would have to bring hammers to break you out of it," he finished with a satisfied nod to himself and folded on leg over the other, clasping his hands on top of the raised knee. "Now, no more complaining, do we understand each other?"

You nodded obediently.

Thranduil took it in, making sure that you didn't talked back to him, then he turned toward the playground.

You followed his gaze to Legolas and Tauriel hanging on the monkey bars and swinging back and forth.

"Mhm," he hummed and a smirk pulled on his lips, "I really want to say that the cold never bothered me anyway"

At your pained groan, he just laughed joyfully.

Inside your chest, your heart stuttered against your ribcage.

"I can say that this is far better than sitting in the office," Thranduil mused after a while, eyes wandering from his children to you.

He really did look much happier, the cold giving him a healthy blush that reached all the way down his slender throat.

Not that you stared at his Adam's apple and the soft rosé of his skin– your eyes were just drawn to the red lint his scarf had left on his collar.

You tried to lift an eyebrow like he always did but failed miserably. "What? And here I figured that playing all day was only half as much fun as making sure my suit didn't get wrinkled from all the sitting around."

Thranduil scoffed, not in anger but in humor. "I will let you know that I'm not bound to the desk and will walk to get some coffee now and again"

"Oh how adventurous," you teased, nudging your elbow into his side, "Do tell, whatever do they do with this wild man of a boss?"

He laughed at that, and you had to bury your teeth in your lip to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

"Sometimes they take away my pen and force me to listen to whatever offer is going on instead of letting me play tic-tac-toe"

"That's so unfair," you shook your head, the smile now breaking out despite the best effort to retain it, "Maybe I should talk to them because last time I saw your notes you lost every time. Like you are so bad! They should let you practice more"

"You cheeky-" Thranduil stopped himself, the chortling laughter made it impossible to understand anything he would have said anyway.

After a while the laughter subsided, leaving a comfortable silence that you sunk into, letting the whole moment wash over you.

There was laughter all around you, children screaming and yelling, Tauriel and Legolas swinging on the monkey bars as the cold colored their faces nearly as red as the girl's hair.

Somewhere in the distance, the music of the carousel waved over, the melody familiar by now and you dared to tilt your head just enough to the side, to make it look like your gaze was trailing over to the wooden tent instead of trailing the curve of Thranduil's nose, the long lashes resting on his cheek as he bathes in the sun.

As if he felt your eyes on him, he hummed. "Maybe I should cut my hours short," Thranduil's voice was low, but there was a firmness behind the words, a determination that told you he had thought about this longer than his statement let on.

Your heart jumped in your chest.

Grateful that his eyes were still closed so that he couldn't see the shock that played your features, you inhaled deeply, needing the sting of the air in your lungs.

"Oh," you whispered, wanting to follow up with something encouraging but the words just wouldn't come to you.

"Oh," you simply repeated.

The chill of winter settled deep into your bones and you hunched your shoulders, the meaning of his words cutting sharp into the string of affection that you thought connected the two of you.

If he worked less than that meant he wouldn't come home late in the evening, maybe even early enough to pick up his children from school, giving him time to cook for them, go to the playground, and accompany them to Legolas archery lessons and Tauriels dance classes.

If he had all the time do to this, then it would be more than reasonable to let you go.

"Mhm–" Thranduil hummed again, eyes still shut. "The firm doesn't need my input, they can do their best without me hovering around as if I was not just there to listen in to negotiations. This is what I should have done ages ago, direct my attention to the kids instead of book deals that only need my signature."

You nodded, ignoring that he couldn't see it.

"We should get away, the kids haven't had a vacation in forever. I own a house near Greenwood, and the last time I was there there had been a village close enough for the children to make some friends. It would be good for them, don't you think?"

"Yeah– sure," you swallowed hard, trying to force down the stone lodged in your throat.

There, on the tip of your tongue, was a plea, the urge to beg him not to fire you but you would rather let him continue to talk than embarrass yourself again.

"There was a house close by, a family with another single dad and his three kids. If I remember correctly the youngest had been Tauriel and Legolas' age, they could show them around, and Legolas can finally have that damn treehouse he always asks for," Thranduil chuckled and stretched out his legs, the tips of his shoes pointing to the sky, "He asks for one every birthday and I think if he asks me one more time I will find a way to build him that treehouse, even if that means buying a damn tree here in Central Park."

You let out a humorless laugh, more an exhale of air than anything else.

The images Thranduil painted would have been lovely if not for the pain growing inside your chest at every word.

"And we could take a walk through the woods, just you and me."

"What?"

Thranduil's eyes snapped open, blue eyes piercing you like the brightness of the sun over your heads.

For the first time, you saw confusion in them, unsureness, and doubt, and you must have looked just as baffled.

"A walk, to talk, you know? Without the kids sleeping in the other room, without their nosy ears hearing things they shouldn't?" His eyes widened, suddenly he seemed very much uncomfortable with how slouched he sat for he straightened up, "Oh my," he lifted a hand to run it through his hair, tousling it even more, "Oh no, have I overstepped?"

Your gaze remained fixed on him. "You want me to accompany you on this vacation to the woods to 'talk'? Damn, Thranduil, I thought you were on the verge of letting me go!"

"Let you go?!" His cheeks flushed crimson within seconds, a vivid contrast against his fair complexion.

There was an unfamiliarity to the flush, something so new and alien about it that, despite the gravity of the situation, you found yourself momentarily speechless, captivated more by the sight than the words spoken.

"I thought that we could come to an agreement about the arrangements of your employment status"

"My status?"

Nothing that was said made sense, for either one of you, and the comfort grew into frustration that made it impossible to sit still.

"Yes! Were we not on the same page?" Thranduil's voice got louder and you both flinched as a mother with her stroller walked past and threw you an annoyed look. Thranduil leaned closer, dropping into something close to a whisper: "I wanted to ask you out for like a month now, but it felt awkward since it would have required giving you the evening off or compensating you. Neither option seemed like the ideal foundation for a date, in my opinion," he pressed out between his teeth, tipping his head to the side.

"A date?" you felt stupid for parroting his words- again, but how could you not? This conversation had dragged out for far too long to be your imagination, yet you wouldn't believe that this was happening.

"Yes," he was laughing now, kind of desperate if you were honest.

The touch of his knees against yours became a hand wrapping around your wrist, pulling your hand toward him so that he could lay it onto his open palm.

There were sparkles in your stomach, exploding like fireworks at the soft touch of his skin, warmed from the gloves he had worn on the walk.

"I am mad about you, haven't you realized? Have you any idea how I have to hold myself back whenever I come home and see you on the couch with my children, reading stories or singing movies, dancing around the living room in costumes?"

(You blushed deeply at the memory of that evening, Tauriel had convinced you that her fairy wings would fit you better than her, the pink glitter sticking to your clothes as you twirled around the room just when the elevator doors opened and Thranduil stood in the doorway; his tired and exhausted eyes lightening up at the sight of his daughter- or so you thought)

He continued, staring at your hands as he drew circles with the tip of his fingers. "Leaving for work is only easy because you are there to send me off, and working is only durable because I know that when the doors to the apartment open you will be there. It gets harder though, every time I see you cuddling with Legolas or drawing with Tauriel I have to refrain myself-" he stopped to look up, a coy smile on his lips that were suddenly much harder to ignore in their closeness and allure.

"Else, I'd find myself sinking to my knees before you on the couch, bestowing kisses for 'Hello', 'Goodbye', or simply surrendering to the emotions that have stirred within me since the day you entered my life."

"Well, I can tell you no other boss has greeted me like that," you murmured quietly, uncertain of how else to react.

His fingers continued their subtle dance, now entwined with yours. They melded together seamlessly, like a perfect puzzle, as if their natural state had always been intertwined.

Thranduil chuckled softly, his index finger tapping against his knuckle. "One of the reasons I never acted upon it," he admitted, "was the fear of you dialing the Department of Labor for harassment."

"A kiss wouldn't lead to that," you bit down on your lip again, "Fainting on my side, yes, absolutely, and I have never seen a fainted person make a phone call. And what would I say? Hello, my gorgeous boss, who I have a crush on kissed me? Oh, sad old me. could you maybe find a way to compensate me for something I have dreamed about?"

The moment you said what you said, the words slipped out your mouth faster than you could hold them back and loud enough that you could have pretended that you had mumbled something else.

The shock of Thranduil's admission had opened the pandora box of feelings that you had shoved under terms like 'work ethic' and 'inappropriate salivating over your superior' as if that would make it any easier.

"So we are on the same page," Thranduil smiled, his chest heaved in a relief exhale of air. "I'm glad.. oh, so glad. I would have perished if I had been wrong and all those times I asked you to eat with me you thought 'Great, now I have to spend time with him as well.' That would have been... well, rather disheartening."

You choked on another laugh, "No, no, I never thought something even close to that. Most of the time, I was occupied trying not to scream in excitement while figuring out how I could get rid of the glitter or marker on my arms."

He laughed, but his eyes were honest and he held your hand a little bit tighter, "You must know that you are beautiful in every way, especially covered in feathers and gemstones, couch lint, and flour." His head dropped then, his eyes falling to your lips as he took in your smile and the way you struggled to find words.

"I wish I could kiss you right now," he said instead and the regret was audible in his low voice, "But we should figure everything out before I do."

You understood his point, it would be irresponsible to make out - which a kiss would definitely lead to, after all, you were bursting at the seams just thinking about how his lips would taste.

There were the kids, for once, you couldn't know how they would react at seeing the nanny kiss their father without being spoken to first and then, there was the whole thing of him being your boss.

Instead of kissing him, you just nodded. "Of course. Mister Oropherion, I hereby tell you that I plan to resign. It was lovely working for you but this is not where I see myself in a few years."

His face had morphed into the professional that you had met all those months ago in that little restaurant, older yet not by much, less exhausted and happiness in those blue eyes of his that you would spend hours staring into.

Your last name still sounded unfamiliar on his tongue, you had instantly offered your first name for him to use- an order he gladly followed, the only exception being the nicknames you doted on.

"I'll make sure to have the papers ready in the afternoon," Thranduil said in a matter of business, "And there will be a bottle of wine, perhaps? To celebrate?"

You glanced around, making sure that no one was watching before lifting your hands and breathing a soft kiss onto his fingers, relishing the first taste of him.

"I would very much like that"

"Ada!" came the sudden yell of Legolas, and in the blink of an eye the boy ran toward you, coming out of nowhere and the rest of the sentence, whatever Thranduil had wanted to say, never crossed his lips that now spread into a wide smile at the sight of his son.

"Ada, you have to push us on the swings!"

Legolas jumped in front of you, fisting his gloves into your coat and pulling your attention onto him, cheeks all flushed red and blonde hair standing to all sides- he seemed to have lost his hat.

"You can push me and Ada can push Tauriel, and then can we go eat ice cream? There was a boy that said that his mom would buy him ice cream and let him ride the carousel, and–"

Thranduil laughed and raised a hand to smooth down the flyaway strands of hair. "Alright, alright, Las. Lead the way"

The boy immediately turned, tugging you with him at the seam of your coat into the direction of the pair of swings where his sister already waited, her hat lost in the sand as well.

That would be a problem for later, for now, you just followed Legolas and turned your head to see Thranduil catching up to you.

His hand brushed yours as he passed you, his legs much longer than yours and his coat free from the impatient drag of a child.

"Race you!"

There was more laughter echoing over the playground as you and Legolas chased after his father, their blonde hair flying in the wind, sand slipping into your boots, and the red scarf around your neck fluttering.

Later, when the children were asleep in their bed, tugged under their blankets, and exhausted from the day, Thranduil would bring out your contract, ready for your signature of resignation.

He would wait until you sign next to him, the pen just barely lifted from the paper before his lips would capture yours in a soft kiss; his hands resting on your waist as you fall on top of him on the couch.

There would be wine and kisses just as sweet, quiet laughter as to not wake the children, hushed giggles when you would follow him to his bedroom, his hand in yours.

Right now though, you swept up Legolas into your arms and dashed through the sand.

#thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #lord of the rings fanfiction #lord of the rings x reader #lotr fanfiction #king thranduil #thranduil

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juergenklopp · 2 years

Note

How do you make your gifs?

Hello hello! I love talking about gifmaking, so thank you for giving me the chance to ramble.

Instead of a detailed step-by-step walkthrough, I will link tutorials and resources written by the wonderful Tumblr creators on here along the way. Everyone has their method and preferences, and there’s no right or wrong way to make gifs. I’m going to share techniques and resources I picked up along the way that work best for me—they may or may not be suited to your preferences, but I hope you’ll find some helpful things here.

(Warning: screenshot/image heavy)

USEFUL TUTORIALS AND RESOURCES

Here are some tutorials and resources that I found very useful when I got back into gifmaking:

Gifmaking tutorial using video timeline by @hope-mikaelson is identical to my own process

Gifmaking and coloring tutorial by @kitty-forman, whose process is very similar to my own

Giffing 101 by @cillianmurphy, an incredibly detailed tutorial that covers everything you need, including a step-by-step guide to using HandBrake

Gifmaking and coloring tutorial with 4K HDR footage by @sith-maul, another incredibly detailed tutorial with many useful tips

Gifmaking tutorial by @jeonwonwoo, incredibly comprehensive and covers so many aspects of gifmaking from basics, sharpening, captioning, and text effects

Gifmaking/PS tips and tricks by @payidaresque

Action pack by @anyataylorjoy, the Save action is especially a true life-saver

@usergif and @clubgif are amazing source blogs with many tutorials on gifmaking, color grading, and gif effects, can’t be thankful enough for the members for their work curating and creating for these blog!

TOOLS

Adobe Photoshop CS6 or higher, any version that supports video timeline. @completeresources has many links to download Photoshop, have a look!

Photopea is a free alternative to Photoshop, but it has a slightly different UI, check out these tutorials for gifmaking with Photopea

HandBrake or any other video encoder, especially if you’re working with .MKV formats

4Kvideodownloader for downloading from YouTube, Vimeo, Instagram, etc.

OBS Studio or any other similar screen capturing software. To prevent duplicate frames in gifs that prevents your gifs from looking smooth, try to match the recording frame rate (FPS) with the source.

IMPORTING FOOTAGE AND WORKING IN VIDEO TIMELINE

I work exclusively in video timeline instead of importing video frames to layers or loading files into stack. For videos that don’t require converting/encoding using HandBrake, especially ones that are already in .MP4 format, I tend to open the video directly on Photoshop, and trim the videos around directly.

As mentioned above, this gifmaking tutorial using video timeline is exactly how I make gifs. I find it more efficient, especially if you’re making multiple gifs from the same video/the same scene with little to no change in lighting conditions You can simply slide around sections of gifs you want to save, and they will all be the same length.

Another thing also covered in the tutorial linked is the ability to change video speed in video timeline mode. Right click on the video and set the speed before proceeding with cropping/resizing. This is also very useful when you’re making blended gifs where you need the footage to have the same length.

Slowing footage down.

As mentioned in this post, changing the FPS before slowing down the gif results in smoother gifs. Doubling the frame rate before slowing down your gifs usually yields the best result.

Speeding footage up.

I love using this to speed up slow motion B-rolls to make the speed slightly more natural. It will result in nice, smooth gifs:

(B-roll footage, normal broadcast speed)

(200% speed)

Subject won’t stay in frame?

Another feature of the video timeline mode. Keyframes are your best friend. This tutorial by @kangyeosaang covers everything you need to know about panning gifs. I use this technique regularly, it’s a life-saver.

COLORING

Here are some coloring tutorials I found very useful:

Coloring tutorial by @brawn-gp beloved, their coloring style is second to none

Mega coloring tutorial by @yenvengerberg, for stylized /vibrant coloring

Understanding Channel Mixer by @zoyanazyalensky

Coloring rainbow gifs by @steveroger, which delves deep into Channel Mixer

I tend to go for neutral-saturated coloring in general, especially for minimalist gifsets with no effects (blending/isolated coloring/overlays etc.), but the possibility is endless for stylized coloring. Here’s what my adjustment layers look like for the example gifs above.

The base footage for this Charles gifset is incredibly desaturated. I started with a Curves layer to bring contrast to the gif, as well as do some color-correcting to bring the base footage to a more neutral tone. To bump contrast, I also like to add a black and white Gradient Map layer with a Soft Light blending mode at 10%-30% opacity:

The Vibrance layer is then used to lift the saturation of the base footage, with the Selective Color, Hue/Saturation, and Channel Mixer layers to help remove the green/yellow tint to his skintone.

An underrated adjustment layer/preset in my opinion is the Color Lookup. You can layer in pre-loaded .LUT color grading presets to help speed up your process. For this gif, it’s simply a base preset Soft Warming Look to achieve a warm, pink-tinted tone.

In hindsight I feel like this gifset is too saturated, his skintone is skewing very red/pink, I could’ve bumped down the lightness of the reds with a Selective Color layer or a Hue/Saturation layer. Try to err on the side of neutral for skintones. Experiment with layer orders—there’s no right or wrong! Remember that each layer build up on the one before it.

The base footage of the Jalen gif is already quite nicely color-graded, but it’s still muddy and underexposed. As with the Charles gif, I started with a Curves layer to bring the gif to a better baseline contrast. Then I focus on brightening the gif with the Brightness/Contrast and Exposure layers.

The Hue/Saturation and Selective Color layers are to color-correct Jalen’s skin tone—it’s something I spend most of my time coloring gifs and focus a lot on, especially when color grading BIPOC skintones. Putting a Vibrance layer, upping the Vibrance and Saturation, and calling it a day would make his skintone skew very, very yellow/orange.

Focus on the reds and yellow for skintone, play around with the Saturation and Lightness sliders, use the Hue slider with caution.

It can be tricky to achieve the right skin tone when working with sports footage vs the higher quality, higher dynamic range footage of films or TV shows, but I try to keep it as close to the subject’s natural skintone as possible.

Here are some of tutorials with tips and tricks on coloring BIPOC:

How to fix orange-washed characters by @zoyanazyalensky

How to prevent pink-washing and yellow-washing by @jeonwonwoo

Coloring tutorial by @captain-hen

Changing lighting conditions?

Fret not—this is why I love working in video timeline. I’ll take this gifset as an example: it’s a deceptively difficult one to color. The footage is 720p and the sunlight shifts throughout the video, so matching across gifs was tricky.

My solution was to split the clips in sections with consistent lighting, and apply adjustment layers to the individual sections before applying general color grading layers on top of everything.

We can make use of the Fade Transition effect for sections where the lighting changes within the gif section we want to color.

(without vs with Fade on the Brightness/Contrast layer)

The difference is subtle in this example, but the brightness in the right gif is noticeably more consistent throughout. You can also add the Fade Transition effect to the beginning for a fade in, of course.

SHARPENING AND OPTIMIZING GIF QUALITY

This tutorial by @anya-chalotra covers everything you need to know about optimizing gifs for Tumblr.

Sharpening.

Sharpening is essential to making crisp gif images. Here’s another ask I answered re: my own sharpening settings and maximizing gif quality.

(base footage, unsharpened)

(color graded, unsharpened)

(color graded, sharpened)

The final gif is sharpened with Smart Sharpen, 500% at 0.3px and 10% at 10px (my standard sharpening settings).

Here are some tutorials and resources on sharpening:

Sharpening process by @anya-chalotra

Sharpening tutorial with added gaussian blur by @haleths

Sharpening action by @daenerys-stormborn

Size your gifs for Tumblr correctly.

This is essential: full width gifs are 540px wide.Two side-by-side gifs should be 268px wide. Here’s a handy post on gif size guide for Tumblr.

Incorrectly sizing your gifs will take away the quality of your gifs: undersizing your gifs will especially make them grainy, blurry, and /or pixelated, and won’t display correctly on many people’s desktop theme. Oversizing usually isn't as dramatic as undersizing, but it will make the gifset glitch when displayed, and the file size will be unnecessarily bloated.

Work with HD footage if possible.

Media fandoms (films/TV shows) are luckier than us in the sports trenches—we have to work with what we have. Broadcast footage is usually subpar: lacks contrast, pixelated, very desaturated, the list goes on. But it’s possible to still make high quality gifs from subpar footage. Here are a couple of tutorials to mask low source footage quality:

low quality video ➜ “HD” gifs tutorial by @nickoffermen

Sharpening low quality footage by @everglow-ing

(This gifset I made is from a 480p footage with horrendous lighting conditions and colors, and the end result is decent I’d say)

Save for Web (File > Export > Save for Web (Legacy) or Ctrl + Alt + Shift + S) settings.

I default to Adaptive + Diffusion but also use Adaptive + Pattern from time to time. Any combination of Adaptive or Selective + Diffusion or Pattern will give you a good result. In my experience some gifs will need the Selective color table for the colors to display correctly.

Here are my default settings:

SAVING AND EXPORTING FOR TUMBLR

Converting to frames and adjusting the gif speed.

If possible, avoid exporting your gif and reopening it to adjust the frame speed. I used to do this sometimes when I’m lazy, I have to admit, but this is where this Action as mentioned at the beginning comes in very handy. It converts all visible layer into smart object, then converts it back to frame animation.

Step-by-step:

1. Select all layers

2. Right click > Convert to Smart Object

3. Go to the Timeline menu (≡) > Convert Frames > Flatten Frames into Clips

4. Go to the Timeline menu again (≡) > Convert Frames > Convert to Frame Animation

5. In the same menu (≡), select Make Frames from Layers

6. Delete the first frame (it’s a duplicate) then set your frame speed

Now you can adjust the frame speed before exporting it (Save for Web).

Pay attention to the source framerate.

The frame delay of 0.05 s is usually the default to make gifs for TV shows and films, and it is preferred by most gifmakers. This stems from the fact that most movies and TV shows are 24 or 25 FPS. This may not be the case for all source videos: you might get 30 FPS footage, and sports or gaming footage can be 50 or 60 FPS. Gif speed also depends on the FPS of your original file. Play around with gif speed and see what feels most natural to you.

My rule of thumb is the frame delay Photoshop gives you + 0.01 s. For example, 50 FPS footage will give you 0.02 s frame delay (25 FPS gives you 0.04, 30 FPS gives you 0.03, etc.), so set it to 0.03 s. I usually err on the side of a faster frame delay for smoothness in in-game sports footage, anything else (interviews, press conferences, B-rolls) can get away with being slowed down. Again, experiment and see what you think looks best!

Keep gifs under the Tumblr file size limit (10 MB).

Cut down the number of frames. My gifs are usually around 60-70 frames for 540px full-width gifs, but depending on the coloring, sometimes you can get away with more. 268px gifs can go up to 200+ frames.

Crop your gifs. Remember to keep full-width gifs at 540px wide, but if necessary, you can crop the height. My go-to sizes are 540x540, 540x500, 540x450, and 540x400.

Amp up the contrast of your gifs. Flat colors like black cut down gif size.

The Grain filter or Noise filter, though beautiful for aesthetics or simply necessary sometimes to mask low source footage quality/pixelating, may bloat your gif size.

Play your gifs back before exporting.

Pay attention to duplicate frames or glitches, you might need to get rid of them!

Hope this is helpful! Don’t hesitate to send an Ask or DM if you need any help, I will happily answer all your questions and send over PSDs. (I’m also on Discord—just shoot me a message if you need my tag!) Happy creating :]

#tutorial #PS asks #gif tutorial #Photoshop tutorial #I guess this is more of a resource link dump than tutorial but. Hey. Why reinvent the wheel...#Sorry for the late answer I hope you see this Anon :]#completeresources #allresources #userxoames #userbarbi #usernrzr

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lyssasdrafts · 3 months

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★ 𓈒 ݁ STAR—CROSSED (rhysand x reader) ⊹

chapter seven: (written) ✧

𓈒 ݁ ✫ masterlist previous next

rhysand was in a good mood this morning. instead of his usual taunts and smirks, you walked into the lecture hall only to be greeted by a polite smile from him. you recalled your last interaction at the library where you actually got along with him, and with how you two had been texting on the side, wondering if that had anything to do with his change of heart.

something felt wrong about rhysand giving you the same look that he shows to other people on campus, the same grin that he gives your professors; it felt wrong that he was treating you the same way he did with everyone else. at least with his glares and insults towards you, you knew that it was completely genuine.

you try not to glance at rhysand when the both of you are called after class to stay behind, instead focusing on professor bryaxis in front of you. holding her gaze, chills running down your spine, you try to remind yourself that there was a low chance the both of you were in any trouble. while you had the best grades in your class, the professor still intimidated you, and you couldn’t even imagine how your classmates that didn’t have her favor felt.

“y/n, rhysand…“ she speaks your names slowly, drawing out her smile before she turns pull out papers from her desk. “i wanted to ask you both something.”

rhysand swallows, and for the first time, he actually looks nervous, before he speaks up for both of you, “of course. is everything alright, professor?” you hold back your laughter at him. rhysand has never once looked stressed for an exam or test in the nearly four years you’ve known him.

“as both of you know, you’re the top preforming students at prythian university. the school is considering retaking promotional photos and would like both of you to be the student models,” your professor says. you almost breathe out a sigh of relief at her words before the realizations creeps onto your face that you’ll be modeling for once.

you figured this could be an interesting experience for your career, although modeling was never something you considered. rhysand’s expression was no longer tensed, instead smiling to himself when he realizes that this was his profession already. you nearly rolled your eyes when you considered just how badly this would inflate your rival’s ego.

when you had told morrigan about the student modeling, she nearly screamed in joy. your roommate had briefed you with her advice that she’d learnt throughout her career, along with how to deal with rhysand, and then pressed you for all the details.

you had worn your best professional outfit — a black blouse with a blazer that you’d splurged on a few years ago, with matching jewelry you borrowed from mor. however, you suddenly felt upstaged when rhysand walked in with his full designer outfit, a dark blue suit that matched the university’s colors and you knew probably cost more than you could imagine. he was definitely extravagant enough to eclipse you, suddenly making you wonder if you had been underdressed.

rhysand only manages to give you a small polite smile before you’re both ushered away into one of the larger classrooms on campus for the photoshoot, not even giving you chance to speak with him. although you had only been in this room a few times for a minor class you took before, you immediately understood why this was chosen. the windows lined the walls from ceilings that were triple your height, the room had an array of seats with furnished wooden desks that could hold hundreds of students, and the room was decorated with hanging plants that you could only assume flourished from the amount of sunlight that was shining in.

you’re extremely impressed by the cameras and lighting conventions used, you almost want to run to the photography crew and ask to help. while you knew that it wasn’t as exorbitant as the cameras at rhysand’s modeling studio, you were still suprised that your older university had access to this kind of equipment. once again, you’re reminded of your role when they ask to take some pictures of rhysand first, leaving you to awkwardly stand by while waiting for your turn.

it still hadn’t occurred to you that your job was to be the model instead of the photographer. you watch as rhysand coordinates naturally with the director, always making the right faces and posss for the camera. you wondered just how long he had been in this industry, contemplating the chances that he was probably modeling as a child. you wouldn’t be surprised if rhysand was already booking modeling gigs before you had even discovered you liked taking photos and taught yourself to use a camera.

his hair never once looked out of place as countless shots were taken of rhysand. the school had wanted to show off their campus facilities and thus had rhysand posting in candid photos in front of the classroom’s massive windows, making him pretend to study at a desk with his materials. your favorite pose that he did was the picture with rhysand sitting at a desk, his chin in his palm, staring down at his papers. the angle, the lighting, everything made him look even more beautiful than he already was. you admired the school photographer’s ability, even though the subject matter was terrible.

“i guess the professor was right when she said i have great hair,” rhysand sneers as he walks by you.

“shut up,” you say plainly, not bothering to turn your head and look rhysand in the eye. you could hear the faintest trace of a laugh leaving his lips, before he says to you, “you’re next.”

clenching your fists, you slowly let go of them as you turn to him and try your best to seem confident. “i could tell that,” you state, not wanting rhysand to know you were nervous after he already found out enough about you.

the photographer calls your name after rhysand and you run over to the same desks to take similar pictures. however, you’re not even nearly as natural as rhysand’s modeling and poses. you’re immediately critiqued after every shot for being too stiff, for your posture, your facial expressions looking bored, and whatever else they could think of. you weren’t even this hard on rhysand during your first photoshoot with him, and that was considering you hated each other.

you could see the frowns appearing on the staff’s faces and try not to look annoyed. this was not your job and never would be, what were they expecting?

“y/n, you’re a very promising student who i’ve been told takes great pride in going to prythian university, what’s wrong?”

“i… i know i don’t know how to pose,” you hesitantly admit.

the photographer blinks at you for a moment before realizing how that explains your awkwardness, and you suddenly feel the need to turn your head away in embarrassment. meanwhile, rhysand stands in the corner with his thinking expression on before he comes up to you.

“it’s okay y/n, i was nervous for my first photoshoot too,” he whispers to you. you scrunch your face at him, surprised at the genuine compassion in his voice. he wasn’t mocking or teasing you, he actually wanted to help for once.

“i have an idea!” rhysand says louder, before he grabs your hand and tilts your head carefully, instructing you on how to pose to realistically look like you’re studying.

“just think about that tough physics question from last week,” he mutters to you when the director asks for your facial expression.

you silently went along with whatever rhysand said as he guided you, being far less passive aggressive then how you were last week during his shoot. you make a mental note to thank him for this later.

“perfect!” the photographer exclaims before snapping a few shots of you, the bright white light nearly making you flinch. how did models such as mor and rhysand put up with this?

afterwards, rhysand tries advise you even more as group photos are taken of the both of you. they make you pretend to be study together, work with the science equipment, and other various activities to show off how nice your school is. when the director gives a satisfied nod towards the end, you realize that this is finally over.

after you’re thanked for your time, rhysand respectfully asks when he can see the photos and the director firmly answers that you’ll be able to see them when the school posts them. you both nod in sync at this answer and go to speak by yourselves.

“that’s a pretty necklace, y/n,” rhysand notes, his eyes drifting lower towards your neckline. “they were limited edition, weren’t they?”

“i’m not sure…” you admit, “it’s borrowed from your cousin.”

“i bought that with her,” he crosses his arms. “you think i wouldn’t recognize them?”

a sudden heat rushes to your cheeks, “i’m sorry, if i knew how expensive it was, i wouldn’t have asked—”

“why are you sorry?” rhysand furrows his eyebrows, “it looks prettier on you anyways.”

you bite your tongue back, “thank you… should i call you rhys?”

“i’m sorry?”

“your friends call you that,” you add quietly, recalling what had happened with cassian and azriel at the library the other day.

rhysand’s loose purse and his expression drops, his tone suddenly becoming serious again, “do not call me that.”

“okay… rhys,” you hold back your giggles as you notice the embarrassed look on his face. you start laughing at him soon enough.

“i mean it! don’t call me that.” rhysand nearly sounds like he’s whining. you inch your face closer to his for one more thing before you leave, making sure you could have the last word.

“then i’ll see you around, rhys.”

you don’t bother to turn around and see his annoyed expression, even though it would’ve definitely made your day.

— NOTES

rhysand’s fashion sense ughhh i’m going crazy

we love morrigan being a good friend and helping y/n get ready 🫶🫶

more mentions of professor bryaxis 💀💀 we love her

— TAGLIST

@thelov3lybookworm @starsand @lilah-asteria @therealmoonstone @just-a-social-casualty-1 @ashjade19 @girlontheblock @cherry-cin @daughterofthemoons-stuff @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @sweet-chai-amore @kierramofficial @noelli-smv @c-dizzle99 @littlestw01f @marina468 @dragneel-brothers

#— starcrossed #rhysand x reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #rhysand x you #rhysand acotar #acotar rhysand #acotar #rhysand imagine #high lord rhysand #rhysand fanfic #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #acotar au #rhysand au #night court x reader #night court x you #inner circle x reader #inner circle x you

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fateisfiction · 4 months

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Well, That Bites ...

Vampire!Shouta, (temporary)Werewolf!Hizashi, Human!Reader

Part 1 of ???

Hizashi is bitten by a werewolf and undergoing treatment to reverse the transformation, but in the meantime, Shouta needs a reliable blood source. You're a friend from school and aware of Shouta's condition and volunteer yourself as a temporary solution. It's decided you'll move in with them to make everything easier.

Eventual smut (but not in this part)

Part 2

Shouta isn't the stereotypical posh Victorian vampire people expect when they find out he's a vampire. Sure, he’s a quiet night owl and fairly reclusive, but the ruffled collars and red velvet-lined coffins just aren't his vibe. He sleeps in a bed. He can absolutely walk in sunlight, he just needs extra SPF protection or else he’ll break out in an allergic reaction. (Not to mention the bright sunlight is absolutely exhausting.) And yes, he does drink blood.

And that's part of the problem. Ever since the incident with that one villain in the park, Hizashi's blood has tasted … bad. And that's where you come in.

A friend of theirs since highschool, you’ve been aware of Shouta's condition for a while. You know from experience that a starving vampire is a danger to the very people you’ve all sworn to protect. So you offer your own neck (or wrist) for Shouta, at least until they can figure out what's going on with Hizashi.

It's only a matter of days until the tests come back revealing that Hizashi has contracted lycanthropy. It's curable, but the treatment is a year-long regimen, and it's expected that it will take even longer for the taste to fully leave his system. The important thing is that it was caught early and he's already receiving treatment.

After some discussion, and a rather complicated trial period, it's decided that you’ll move in with them for the time being. The guest room has been made up and repainted in a color of your choice, your furniture and belongings moved to storage, and you're settling into your new home, getting used to the new routine of living with the boys.

Things are fine the first week or so. You have the run of the house with Hizashi busy juggling his many jobs and Shouta spending most evenings grading papers while you watch TV. It's easy enough to tell when Shouta is getting hungry. He lingers in doorways, staring, and you can feel the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

He hesitates, not wanting to ask, to trouble you for a bite. But he's hungry, and you taste so good. In the beginning he offered to use a butterfly needle and looked horrified when you joked that it wouldn’t do anything for your public image to turn you into a literal walking juice box.

Eventually you settle into a pattern. Whenever you feel his hungry eyes on you, your arm raises almost involuntary offering your wrist to him. You still wince every time his fangs sink in. The sharp sting quickly soothed by the mild numbing effects of his venom.

He often winds up sitting on the couch with you during his feedings. Limbs curled around you protectively while you watch a show or movie together. Letting out a satisfied hum, he’s careful not to waste a drop of your precious blood. He licks away a stray rivulet before placing a kiss on the already healing bite.

The process is draining, in more ways than one. On more than one occasion, he’s had to carry you off to bed afterward, tucking you in and letting you sleep. He always leaves a glass of water and a snack pack of cookies for when you wake up.

Hizashi's first full moon is unpleasant, but he's grateful that he doesn't have to go through it alone. Thankfully the medications prevent any physical transformation, but he gets really clingy. Leading up to the full moon, he goes into full den mother mode. The fridge is overstocked with snacks and drinks. He hovers, constantly checking in on you and Shouta. Piles of blankets and pillows are amassed in designated cuddle areas, each of the bedrooms, his basement studio, and of course the living room.

An entire corner of the living room has become a permanent pillow fort. The cozy space is filled with bean bags and fluffy blankets. He designated the space as his your “nest,” and every night, like clockwork, he herds you and Shouta into the fort just in time for a late night snack. Sprawling his lanky body across the two of you as he enforces mandatory cuddle time, taking care to ply you with snacks and drinks while Shouta snags a bite for himself. You have to hold back a giggle when he starts kicking his leg whenever Shouta runs his fingers through Hizashi's hair.

You’ve taken it upon yourself to wash the blankets weekly, letting in fresh air to air out the house while the boys are busy at work. Hizashi can't help it, but there's a distinctly dog-like smell filling the space now. You can't help but notice he looks sad whenever you ask him to help you put the fort back together once they're all clean.

It's not until Shouta drops a few tactful mentions about how the sweater you're wearing smells like Hizashi as he snuggles into you, or how Hizashi would love to see the two of you like this, all wrapped up in his favorite blanket, that it dawns on you. It's Hizashi's way of marking out his territory while trying to still give you space of your own. When Hizashi's comes home on laundry day the following week to find everything just where he left it, he’s all smiles as he sweeps you up into a big hug, absolutely spoiling you with attention.

Over time, the two of them become increasingly protective of you. For Shouta, there's a level of intimacy that comes with regular feedings. A bond that grows stronger the longer you’re with them, until the idea of you leaving when Hizashi is back to normal fills him with an irrational anger. To Hizashi, you're a part of his pack. You've even started to wear his clothes around the house.

On the rare occasion that the three of you all have a day off together, you find yourself sandwiched between them as they preen over you. Hizashi checking to make sure that Shouta's bites are healing nicely and not leaving any noticeable scarring, and Shouta massaging anywhere he can reach. He subtly takes note of your muscle tone, mentally creating a training plan to keep you in shape since you’ve had to cut back, your body still getting used to these new arrangements.

You have a close call responding to a villain attack one day and when Shouta and Hizashi get the call, they're rushing to the hospital. You wake up to Shouta hunched over, head resting next to yours on the pillow as the machines beeping around you track your vitals. You can tell from the darker-than-usual circles under his eyes that he was worried. Hizashi comes in carrying two paper coffee cups, perking up when he sees your eyes are open. You motion for him to stay quiet, wanting Shou to get some much-needed sleep.

You're discharged from the hospital later that evening with instructions to start taking an iron supplement. Shouta curses under his breath. Your iron levels are fine. He should know. He’s been carefully managing your diet since you moved in, making sure you're getting all the nutrients you need. All the nutrients he needs.

You spend the next week assuring the boys that you're fine. Hizashi's cuddle pile moves from the living room to your bedroom, the entire room turned into a comfortable nest. You noticed that they’ve started sleeping on the floor, almost as if they can't bear to be away from you. Shouta pulls you into his lap while he's grading, propping his chin on your shoulder as he looks over the assignments. When you get a bit restless, he wraps his arms around you, shoving his face into the crook of your neck. The sensation of his cool fangs against the sensitive skin of your neck send a shudder through your body, but you know he won't bite you.

You can't stand seeing them sleep on your floor. The morning brings a symphony of pops and cracks as they stand up, so when you realize they're not going to be giving up this new habit, you ask if they would rather sleep in the bed. When you move to sleep on the floor they're horrified. Where are you going? There's more than enough room for the three of you.

It doesn't take long to get used to the new sleeping arrangements. At first you were worried that you were coming between them, but Shouta assures you that there's nothing to worry about. Compared to him, Hizashi’s almost unnaturally warm, and while that can be an issue in the heat of summer, it also means you’ll never have to worry about the cold, and of course he's a cuddler. They can just set the AC a few degrees cooler to compensate anyway.

As for coming between them, Shouta and Hizashi had a few ideas, but they're gentlemen. They would never force you into anything you weren't comfortable with. Granted, after waking up on more than a few occasions with Hizashi's morning wood pressed firm to your back, only for the two of them to quickly excuse themselves off to their own bedroom, it was pretty clear that your presence wasn't detrimental to their relationship. In fact, judging by the sounds you pretended not to hear coming from the next room, thing were pretty damn great between them.

---

There's a chance I'll rewrite this and it'll become a full fic and if I do, it'll be super slow burn.

#erasermic x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #hizashi yamada x reader #eraserhead x reader #present mic x reader #vampire shouta #werewolf hizashi #quill writes #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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reivrze · 1 year

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Hii!

So maybe crush en- when them and their crush kiss but then their crush gets distant (what it is is that their crush is nervous abt the new feelings ofc) like highschool au. But if you want you can make it like the last one where’s it’s a Niki imagine that’s enemies to lovers idk lol

a/n : i apologize for the wait, i wanted to work on my series so i didn't do many requests but i hope you like this ! also i decided to leave a few of these as a cliff hanger to add suspense hehe 😈 also i didn't really commit to the highschool au thing sorry, but i wanted to make the scenarios vary, and the highschool au is restricting

pairing : crush!enha x gn!reader genre : fluff, angst warning : cursing ( ? ), probably the longest reaction i've ever written, didn't proof read lmao sorry

l. heeseung . ⁺

you guys had kiss during a truth or dare game amongst friends, your friends had been the one that dared you to kiss him as they knew you had the biggest crush on him since first grade. sure this wasn't how you had wanted your first kiss with him to go like but you were sure as hell not going to let this opportunity slip from you.

you had avoided heeseung for the rest of the night, feeling embarrassed from the earlier kiss between you two. you had been scared that if he could talk to you alone for two second that he'd tell you that the kiss was purely platonic and he had just complied because it was a dare.

what you didn't know what that he had been looking for you while you were hiding away from you. you didn't see how his cheeks turned pink the second your lips made contact with his. you didn't catch the way his hands flinched at your proximity, oh how he wanted to pull you closer to him and it killed him to keep his hands to himself. you didn't notice how his eyes saddened when he felt the warmth of your lips leave him. if only you knew all the things you missed.

p. jongseong . ⁺

jay had invited you to the studio, he had been working on a song for past month and wanted you to help him review it. you guys spent the night going over his work, not even noticing how tipsy you were getting from the wine you had been sipping together for over a few hours.

as the alcohol made its way through your veins, you head started feeling dizzy and your lids heavy, feeling tired, you laid your head on jay's shoulder. you looked up from underneath him, staring at his strong jaw, straight nose, beautiful eyes, and his oh-so soft looking lips. not really thinking much of it, your hand made its way to jay's cheek and turning his face down towards you. for once, you took a risk ad you brought his lips down to yours.

jay, not wanting to kiss you while you were intoxicated, pulled you away from him gently. realizing what you had just done, you panicked, profusely apologizing while slurring your words and pushing yourself back up ready to leave. jay didn't want you to ge the wrong message as he quickly stood up, helping you get steady,

"hey hey, love, you don't have to apologize, i want to kiss oyu but i want it to be when you'll remember it, not when you're drunk"

i struggled with that last line of dialogue, it doesn't sound as good as i wished it to be

s. jaeyun . ⁺

jake and you were engrossed in a friendly game of Twister. the colorful mat sprawled out on the floor, and your bodies twisted and contorted in an attempt to follow the game's instructions. laughter filled the room as you struggled to maintain your balance, your limbs tangled.

as the game progressed and trying to keep your balance got increasingly difficult, one misstep caused you to fall down, right on top jake, ultimately making him fall as well. for a moment, time stilled as the realization that your lips were against one another's sank into both of you, you body reacting quickly after, as you lifted your self off him, stammering apology after apology.

jake, however, had a different response, ignoring the words coming out of you as he snaked his hand around your waist, bring you back down, reconnecting your lips.

p. sunghoon . ⁺

you and sunghoon found yourselves in the middle of a heated argument. your voices grew louder, each trying to prove your point. as the tension escalated, you couldn't help but notice sunghoon's lips, mesmerized by their shape and the way they moved when he spoke. it was distracting, to say the least.

lost in your thoughts, your attention wandered from the argument, and without thinking, you leaned forward, capturing sunghoon's lips in an unexpected kiss. time seemed to stand still as your lips met, momentarily silencing the escalating argument. your action caught sunghoon off guard, and he blinked in surprise before quickly reciprocating the kiss, his lips molding with yours.

feeling a mix of embarrassment and excitement, you pulled away slightly, your cheeks turning a shade of crimson. but before you could apologize or explain yourself, sunghoon reached out and gently pulled you back in, deepening the kiss. in that moment, he whispered against your lips,

"this does not mean you won the argument."

the unexpected passion of the kiss lingered in the air as you finally broke apart, your eyes locked for a brief moment. both you and sunghoon were left speechless, your argument momentarily forgotten amidst the charged atmosphere. tt was clear that the kiss had stirred something within both of you, a connection that went beyond your disagreement.

k. sunoo . ⁺

the room was filled with tension as sunoo sat on the couch, listening intently to you pouring out your stress and anxiety over your upcoming finals. you could feel the weight of the world on your shoulders, you voice quivering and tears welling up in your eyes. the pressure had become too much, and you couldn't hold it back any longer.

"I just… I don't know what to do anymore," you managed to say between sobs, your vulnerability shining through your words.

sunoo's heart ached seeing you like this, feeling the depth of your pain. without hesitation, he moved closer, his warm presence offering solace. he reached out and gently wiped away your tears with his thumb, offering a comforting smile.

"hey, it's okay," he whispered softly. "you don't have to face this alone. I'm here for you."

as his words washed over you, a mix of emotions swirled within you. the rawness of the moment, coupled with the care he displayed, brought you closer to him. in that instant, you closed the gap between you and pressed your lips against his, seeking solace and connection amidst the chaos.

immediately realizing what you had done, you pulled away abruptly, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and regret. "I'm so sorry," you stammered, your voice barely audible. "I shouldn't have done that.

sunoo's eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and affection. he pulled you back into his embrace, holding you gently but firmly. with a lighthearted tone and a soft chuckle, he reassured you,

"you know, I'll always be here to listen to your worries, no matter how big or small. and as for the kissing part, let's save that for better conditions. maybe when you're not feeling so overwhelmed with finals stress."

y. jungwon . ⁺

you and jungwon found yourselves attending a lively new year's party, surrounded by friends and shimmering decorations. the air was filled with anticipation as the countdown to midnight approached. as the clock's hands neared 12, you couldn't help but steal glances at jungwon. you had been friends for a while, but lately, your feelings had blossomed into something more. your heart raced with nervous excitement, unsure of how jungwon felt.

when the moment finally arrived, the room erupted in cheers, and all eyes turned toward the large clock hanging on the wall. you couldn't resist stealing one last glance at jungwon, your eyes locking just as the clock struck 12.

in that instant, an impulsive surge of courage overcame you. you leaned in and pressed your lips against jungwon's, sharing a brief but electrifying kiss. immediately pulling back, your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me," you stammered.

to your surprise, instead of being taken aback, jungwon burst into a warm laughter. he gently took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss on your knuckles. "what a cute and romantic way to ask me to be your boyfriend," he said, his voice filled with affectionate amusement.

n. riki . ⁺

you and niki had been diligently practicing a beautiful and romantic choreography for the end-of-year showcase. the dance was filled with intricate movements and delicate touches that reflected your deep connection. as the music swelled to its crescendo, you found yourselves in the final position, your bodies intertwined and faces mere inches apart.

lost in the intensity of the moment, your heart raced, overwhelmed by the electric energy between you. without thinking, you leaned in and pressed your lips against niki's. realizing what had just happened, you quickly pulled away, your face flushed with surprise and embarrassment.

"m-my apologies," you stammered, your voice barely audible as you hastily gathered your things and dashed out of the practice room, desperately needing a moment alone to process the unexpected kiss. but you didn't get far before niki caught up to you, his footsteps echoing behind. gasping for breath, you turned around to face him, your eyes wide with trepidation. before you could utter a single word, niki reached out and gently took hold of your trembling hand.

"hey, you didn't give me time to say something.." he breathed out, slightly amused at the whole situation.

"i wanted to ask you if you'd like to grab coffee sometime? get to know each other outside of dance practice, you know?"

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