#fic: distractions

[lucienarcheron]

Tales of the Fox & the Fawn - XXII

Season II - A series of snippets to fill my Elucien heart.

Masterlist

Distractions

It was a true indication of how good Nesta’s recommendation was that Elain didn’t notice for how long Lucien had stood there. 

Engrossed in the suspenseful read, Elain was draped across their bed, her eyes going as fast as they could. She didn’t notice the predator that stood in the doorway of their bedroom, watching her reading in her shorts and t-shirt.

It was her bare shoulder, the soft skin peeking out as the shirt slipped off her shoulder that seemed to snag his attention. She was truly swimming in it and Lucien…well Lucien happened to wonder some things.

Elain let out a squeal at whatever she was reading and when she turned her body, trying to get more comfortable, she finally noticed him standing there and let out a yelp.

“Lucien!”

He tilted his head, a small smile on his lips. “Elain.”

She blinked at him behind the book and finally noticed the way he was standing, so fox-like she could practically see his ears twitch. 

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes.”

With that one word, he launched himself at her and Elain burst out laughing as he nuzzled his head into her chest. She sighed dramatically, slipping her bookmark into the book and closing it. 

“What are you doing you ridiculous —”

“I was wondering,” Lucien began, pulling at the loose hem of her shirt. “How nice it would be if, instead of your shoulder being exposed like this, it was your beautiful breasts.”

And he yanked the shirt down to do exactly that.

“Lucien!” Elain reprimanded with a laugh, smacking his hand away. “You interrupted my reading for this?”

His only response was to plant kisses on her collarbone and Elain rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know why you even like them that much. They’re small.” Elain said, pursing her lip.

Lucien let out a noise of disapproval and looked up at her. “Elain Archeron-Vanserra.” he stated. “Body positivity is the only kind of body talk we have in this household. I have a metal eye, would you like it if I went on and on about how hideous I look?”

“I’d beat you up. You are not hideous. You are hot.” she immediately replied and he waved a hand.

“There you go. I love these girls.” he said, cupping them and Elain giggled when he squeezed them gently. “Just like I love every inch of you.”

“As I love every inch of you, handsome.” she replied, kissing his forehead gently. “If I let you play with them, can I finish reading?”

Lucien smirked. “You can try. But I plan to distract you very quickly.” 

Elain quirked a brow and humphed, ready for the challenge but Lucien knew his mate too well. And true to his word, his promise of distraction came through as swiftly as anticipated.

[jungkookfanfictionhappy]

love me some boob love

distractions

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

summary: “Soft.” / “No shit,” you say, “you’re deep between my boobs.” tags: gamer kook, soft bf jeon, extensive knowledge of the MCU (Mario Cinematic Universe) warnings: nsfw; mostly tit play, dry humping, slight praise, jizzing in ur pants like ur fifteen again wc: 3k barely 

when u have 34827 other fics to finish but ur brain hyper focuses on this image��at 1 in the morning. not proofread bc idk ppl 

ty for all the nice comments on skirt chasers btw<333

There were a lot of things about Jungkook that you didn’t learn until you were official. Like the fact he rarely matches his socks unless they’re cool socks. Or that he prefers his pancakes pre-drizzled with syrup. Not necessarily bad things, just aspects the general public wouldn’t normally see. In fact, the worst “trait” you’ve learned about Jungkook in the past year is how easily distracted he can get. Nothing crazy, just tiny actions, like forgetting to eat for three hours because he refuses to leave his Wii until he can beat the guys in three rounds of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate in the Mushroom Kingdom stage. Strangely specific, but it’s Jungkook and you’ve long since learned he’s an enigma.

Keep reading

[keferon]

......So originally I wanted to make just a sketch of the hug scene but mhmgkhllgkh here we are haha

Based on Mistakes on mistakes until

+ close ups of their eyes because I sprinkled them with the tiny extra details

[starrywilliams]

thinking about mean abby sjdjdjdb

“wishing you hadn’t been such a brat earlier now, hm?” she said, voice slightly hoarse. her hips were flat against yours, strap deep inside you - motionless as her hands sat tightly fixed on your waist, refusing any movement from your desperate hips. “please? fuck, i’ll do whatever you want.” you pleaded, trying to keep as still as possible hoping that may please her. “anything?” she hummed, half to herself and half to you. “anything, please-“ you mumbled breathlessly, ���i just need-” your words were cut off by the quick withdrawal of her hips, leaving you empty and gasping. “am i supposed to care about what you need? been teasing me all day, playing your slutty little games - you didn’t care how i felt then, did you baby?” she cooed, a sadistic smile crawling up her cheeks as she stared down at your pathetic writhing body. you tried to argue your case, tears dripping over your waterline as you shifted helplessly against the air. “no you didn’t.” she shook her head, wearing a malice-tainted version of your desperate expression as she mocked you; a blunt laugh echoing out of her chest. “please, i’ll be good from now on.” you whined - already knowing it would be hopeless. “oh i’ll tell you if you’ve been good. do what i say and be the obedient little slut i know you can be, then i’ll decide if you’ve been good enough. yeah?” you forced down a sob, nodding at her as you tried to prepare for what you had just gotten yourself into. “don’t look too scared baby, i don’t bite - at least not hard.”

[hello-sweetheart]

You know that trope where Person A thinks Person B is just being nice but they’re actually flirting. What about the opposite? Person A misreading their behavior and being the only one falling impossibly in love.

Clumsy in Love part 1

Eddie really is just that nice and friendly, but Steve is convinced that Eddie is flirting with him. He’s flirting back, less confident and more subtle than he usually would, but he’s never liked a guy that way.

Not in a way that made him really want to spend every waking moment just hearing them ramble. Not in way that made Steve want to keep him the way he wants to keep Eddie. Everything is so new. It feels, delicate. Precious.

His heartbeat quickens each time Eddie leans into his space and it’s been happening all the time now that Steve worries he’ll develop a heart condition if he doesn’t deal with it soon. When Eddie laughs and leans his face closer to his own, looks into Steve’s eyes through those lashes in a way that Steve can’t help but take a quick glance at those lips curled is mischief.

He’s always so happy to see Steve, wasting no time in bouncing his way to greet him and pull him into the conversation with an arm slung around his shoulder. Then there’s the moments of shared glances when someone says something particularly astounding. And how Eddie will make his way into Steve’s space when they sit together, throwing his feet in his lap or leaning into his side.

Sure, Eddie is friendly but not to this extent. Not with everyone else. Steve feels it. Knows it. That electricity between them that makes this thing between them different. Special.

But one day (another that Steve spends trying to work up the courage to do something), they’re in the city shopping for music in an alternative store that’s tucked away. Steve is talking to Eddie, giddy and happy because it just them today, and Eddie is nodding along while he browses through the tapes and then,

Eddie looks up and stills, eyes widening just a bit. And Steve is still rambling along, but he can tell his words are just going through one ear and out the other. He trails of caught in the middle of his story because he’s never seen this look on Eddie face.

Eddie’s mouth is slightly agape, eyes alight caught in wonder and soft as he looks at something across the room and when Steve turns to see what caught his eye—

A guy stands a couple tables away looking at some vinyl and shyly smiling at Eddie in small glances. He’s a bit taller than them, dressed in black with a couple of piercings decorating his face, the sides of his head shaved short. Attractive, dementor coy and kind.

His heart skips a beat again, but it feels different this time.

Steve looks back at Eddie whose cheeks are slightly dusted in pink.

“Eddie-“

Eddie takes his lower lip between his teeth before smiling back at the guy and continuing without casting a second glance at Steve, “yeah, uh, give me a second, okay?” And he’s crossing the room without waiting for a response.

His chest. It feels…

Like those few seconds before plummeting down a rollercoaster… when your way up high, at the very top, the moment still with the anticipation of the fall, and there’s nowhere else to look but down.

You finally plummet and caught in the whiplash thinking you must have left your heart back at the top.

There’s static there on the bottoms of his feet and at the palm of his hands. The world goes a bit distant as he watches them.

Eddie’s leaning against the wall with a sultry smile adorning whatever sweet words he’s speaking.

Steve’s drowning in the honey, it’s palpable. doesn’t know if it’s better or worse that he can’t hear the words.

Eddie’s fiddling with a curl that’s draped over his shoulder, pulling it slightly over his face like a young school girl.

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever seen Eddie appear anything but confident and loud; the image of the person in front of him is foreign, strange.

Eddie’s speaking to him but his eyes are locked on the guy’s lips that are wet from the tongue that peaks to briefly lick them as he listens.

Eddie’s shoe is nudging the guys own, as he talks, playful.

Oh.

Oh.

Mouth dry, Steve’s throat clicks.

It’s hard to swallow.

Part 2

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU

Masterpost

Guys, I'm so sorry. But here's this!

~~~~

Danny blinks and he is somewhere else. He’s sitting at a dining room table, surrounded. There are so many people here. They’re all talking over each other, some yelling, some laughing. This scene comes as a great surprise to him, who -one blink ago- was trying and failing to do his homework at home in his room. Danny shoots up, his chair making a horrible noise as he pushes it away so fast it tumbles over. Everyone in the room turns to look over at him like he’s insane. 

“Oh my god, who are you people?” Danny did not mean to say this out loud, but at the sound of his voice he startles. Danny takes a moment to assess, and then, “Oh my god who am I?”  He is tall, and big, and this is certainly not his body, what is he wearing.

The boy sitting to the right of Danny, a little shorter than he is, with black hair and blue eyes (though now that he’s paying attention that does describe most people in the room),  starts chuckling lightly. “Uh, Jason? Are you good?” 

Danny turns to stare him right in the eyes. “What day is it?”

And he can tell the concern around the table is just ratcheting up every time he opens his stupid mouth.

“Did you hit your head on patrol?” The voice comes from the only blond and one of the only girls in the room, who's to the left of the person across from him. The person across from him is another boy with black hair and blue eyes who is studying Danny in a way that makes him uncomfortable, that under-a-microscope look that makes you feel like you’re failing at something.

“I have no idea if Jason hit his head.” Danny says. “I was just trying to remember if it was my birthday.”

And if he thought the room was busy when he first arrived here it is absolute pandemonium now. Everyone starts shouting and asking questions that he can’t even hear over the shouting. Someone with white hair in a suit just came through a door he didn’t even see earlier to stand by the only person not shouting, who -Danny would guess- is the only other adult in this room, witting at the head of the table. He also has black hair and blue eyes, and where almost everyone else’s reaction was panic, he froze instead. The person across from Danny also isn’t shouting, but the person next to Danny on his right has now fully stood up and looks like he might actually jump across the table to win the argument he ended up in. 

“Are you Jason’s soulmate?” is the main gist of the shouting that Danny can interpret but he’s more concerned with actual Jason at the moment. If they switched bodies... Then Jason might be in trouble…

“Hey, I forget, how long is this body swap supposed to last again?” Danny asks.

“Until you and Jason have physical contact. You have to actually meet.” The boy sitting across from him explains. He seems like one of the only ones that heard Danny talk, everyone else was still shouting. 

“Oh, that just seems terrible. What if we’re in different countries or something?” Danny complained. “Everyone in the world is just supposed to be able to drop everything and afford to fly across the world. The universe is really trying to screw people over now. Honestly, am I in a different country? Where even are we right now?”

“You’re in Gotham.” This voice was new, coming from the head of the table to Danny’s right. 

“Oh no. Nope.” Danny started backing away from the table, almost tripping on his overturned chair. “Absolutely not, no, how do I get out of here?” He starts earnestly looking for a door to get out of this place, but there are three doors he can see and he has no idea where any of them go, and doesn’t this room have any windows? What kind of a room doesn’t have any windows? Do they like to eat in a basement?

“Jason- not Jason. Uh, you need to calm down, everything will be fine alright, We’ll get you and Jason introduced no problem.” Danny swivels to track the voice and it’s the one who was sitting next to him, he’s walking towards him with his hands up and out in front of him. 

“I have to get home.” Danny breathes. 

“We can get you there, promise. Now, I’m Dick, can you tell me your name?”

“Your name is Dick? Who named you Dick?” Danny is so confused he’s stopped panicking. “How old are you for you to go by the name Dick?”

“Okay, rude.” Dick sounds like a petulant child so Danny’s estimations for his age are continuously dropping. “I’m 24.”

Danny snorts. “Okay.” The blond girl starts laughing over at the table. “I’m uh, I’m Danny.”

“Nice to meet you. Sort of. I’m Tim.” The guy from across from him had made it over to stand next to Dick. “There’s a lot of us here today so the one laughing like a hyena is Steph. That one there is Duke.” African-American, still with black hair but he has brown eyes and waves once introduced. “Damian is the short one next to him, and Cass was sitting across from Dick earlier. Our dad, Jason’s dad-” 

“Not my dad!” Steph interrupted. Tim waves her off.

“Everyone but Steph's dad, is over there, Bruce. Alfred, our butler is the one next to him.” Alfred gives a slight nod to his head. Bruce is just staring at him.

“So, names out of the way. You said you wanted to go home, where do you live?”

“Amity Park.”

[syrasenturi]

so crazy and cool how they don't talk about this ever at all

[valewritessss]

Headcanon that Percy shows Annabeth the Home Alone movie because he thinks she would like the traps and all that but he forgets about the spider scene and it nearly puts Annabeth into a coma

[sapphicseasapphire]

Perpetually making fanart of @tashacee and @a-manicured-lawn’s Idolatry instead of actually working on my comics. I’M FINE

Statue man. Man that is stone. Statue made of stone man. Man made of statue stone. Statue man.

[ahhrenata]

for @hamartia-grander ‘s fic Another Time 🧡

this scene in the epilogue got me 🙃 i love them.

[pogidoow]

if you're wondering why I'm still hung up on mwII, it's because mwIII never actually happened

[keferon]

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH

[catboygirljoker]

hey hi im having swirling and spinning luxubar thoughts again. let's look at these lines.

i imagine he phrases it this way because it's a casual, laid-back way of expressing this idea. "more recently, i go by the name Xigbar, but you can call me Luxu if you want, I don't care either way." (and the fact that he doesn't have a strong preference about the name he's called still says something about his relationship to his own identity, i think!)

but absolutely i feel this can be interpreted on a deeper level, too. the question is about who he is—about his identity in isolation—but the way he responds defines him relationally—"these days they call me Xigbar, but hey, whatever suits you." a sense of identity that is fluid, dependent on who he serves, on what role he plays.

a sense of identity made even more tragic by the fact that, no, Xigbar isn't his real name, and neither was Braig, but neither is Luxu.

[this is Chirithy, speaking about the Master of Masters.]

even the name Luxu, considered his "true identity", was bestowed on him by his master. every identity we have ever known for Xigbar, every name he's ever had, has been a name he assumed in pursuit of someone else's goal. Braig and Bragi were names he acquired from his vessels. Luxu and even Xigbar were names he was given by his superiors. he has only ever been defined in relation to someone else, by someone else's past or someone else's ambitions.

[whaliiwatching]

gay people judging you

[tunastime]

The Little Things

happy birthday @shepscapades!! you've known about this fic for a little bit, but we talked about how long DBHC Etho's hair had gotten and I really couldn't help myself LOL. I hope you have a great birthday <333

Behind his shoulder, Etho twists a particularly long strand of hair around his finger as they unpack, fidgeting in a way that almost seems anxious. He drags his hand back after a moment, flattening his hair against his neck, combing through absently as he sorts through their collected items and puts them in proper order. Bdubs watches him fidget for a long moment. The thoughts in his head bounce around like loose marbles. Or, Bdubs braids Etho's hair. Etho lets him.

(1506 words)

“Etho.”

Bdubs is staring at the back of Etho’s neck as they walk a short single file through the dark oak trees. Etho holds a steady grip on the hilt of the sword at his hip, head shifting back and forth as they walk together, like they were tethered by an invisible string. He can see the faint glow of his LED in the dappled, midday light. Etho makes a small, confirming sound, but doesn’t look behind him.

“Your hair’s gotten long.”

“Mhh,” Etho hums again—some approximation of pushing out air. He reaches back, combing through the near neck-length hair. “I’m letting it get long. Thought it might be a nice change.”

“‘S it bothering you?” Bdubs asks. Etho shakes his head, glancing back to look at him.

“Keeps getting in my eyes, but otherwise I was just too lazy to cut it.”

Bdubs snorts. 

“Typical.”

Etho shoots him a look, but his mouth is curved into a smile—one where he’s trying to stifle it, so his teeth aren’t showing, but he really wants to grin. All visible too since his mask is tucked under his chin. The motion pulls at the off-white scar down his face. 

“So mean,” he scoffs. “After everything I do for you, Bdubs!”

“Yeah, right,” Bdubs says, thumping his shoulder with the back of his hand. “And you’re bein’ dramatic.”

Etho sticks his tongue out at him, but doesn’t argue any further. Bdubs almost socks him again for that, but Etho giggles enough to get him to start laughing, and by the time he’s even considered it again, their base has come into view. Well—what some would call a stack of deepslate that looked like fort walls. Kind of. It was something at least, even if it wasn’t all that pretty. He can see the peek of Tango’s head over the wall, just a smudge of gold against the backdrop. He must be moving their chests around to keep building, because there’s no way their walls were as short as Tango. 

They both pick their way toward the base just as Tango’s head disappears. By the time their cajoling and banter is within earshot, Tango’s standing outside the front of their base, eyebrows raised.

“You two sure make a lot of noise,” he complains, folding his arms. “I swear I could hear you from across the river.”

Bdubs snorts.

“Blame Etho for that one,” he grumbles, pushing past the two of them. He hears Tango snort as he starts giggling, and Etho makes a particularly pathetic sound in retaliation.

“Bdubs started it,” he complains, dragging himself after Bdubs and into the base proper. Tango twists around to follow them both, trailing after as Bdubs lingers near the doorway. 

“Did you two at least bring back somethin’ to eat?”

“You bet your buns we did,” Bdubs snorts. He drops to sit beside his bag, fiddling until the clasps come undone. There, he reaches in, and hands Tango a chunk of entirely unprocessed redstone. When Tango twists it this way and that, it catches the light in a surprisingly interesting way. He watches Tango’s face scrunch for a moment, LED spinning a light blue ring as he thinks over the stone in his hands. Luckily he hasn’t noticed that there are a few prominent sets of teeth marks in the bottom half. 

Can’t blame a guy for getting hungry. 

Tango nods, seemingly satisfied.

Behind his shoulder, Etho twists a particularly long strand of hair around his finger as they unpack, fidgeting in a way that almost seems anxious. He drags his hand back after a moment, flattening his hair against his neck, combing through absently as he sorts through their collected items and puts them in proper order.

Bdubs watches him fidget for a long moment. The thoughts in his head bounce around like loose marbles.

Tango moves around them both and back to the place where he was moving cots and chests around. He backs himself against a particularly large double chest and shoves it sideways across the grass. Etho continues to quietly stack items into a chest. With his bag now empty, Bdubs picks himself up, and scoops up his bag. At the front door, he slings his newly sharpened axe over his shoulder.

Might as well get some wood while the day was still light.

At the fire, sleep tugging at the edge of his consciousness, Bdubs casts a tired glance over to Etho. He’s shrugged free from his coat, now draped over his knees as he sits at Bdubs’ left, leaning almost into his space. From this angle, Bdubs can see how Etho’s hair lies flat over the back of his neck, curls over the side of his face in frizzy strands. He reaches up almost absently to comb his fingers through it. Etho makes a small, startled noise. He raises his shoulders, but he’s not able to resist the tiny, pleased expression that slides onto his face as Bdubs keeps his hand on the back of his skull. He may not like the teasing, but the idea of Bdubs petting through his hair certainly seems to make him happy.

Which is why Bdubs sighs through his nose and draws his hand away.

“Etho,” Bdubs says, exasperation slipping into his tone unbidden. “C’mere and let me help you.”

“It’s fine,” Etho tries, more in discomfort than annoyance.

“Etho—” Bdubs argues. He pats the ground in front of him, legs splayed. Etho looks him up and down for a long moment, LED spinning, calculating. 

“What’re you gonna do?” he asks.

“‘M not gonna cut it,” Bdubs sighs. “Just trust me, alright?”

Etho makes a noise halfway between a groan and a hum. He finally sinks to the ground beside Bdubs’ knee. Twisting around to put him between his legs, Bdubs shuffles forward on the grass. Between Etho and the fire in front of him, the air around them is warm, filled with the slight mechanical hum from Etho in front of him, the snap of the fire. Bdubs leans forward for a moment, resting his forehead against the nape of Etho’s neck. Etho laughs, one hand coming back to squeeze his knee.

“What,” he teases. “Was this your ulterior motive?”

“No,” Bdubs startles, peeling himself away. “No it wasn’t. This was just a nice moment.”

Etho giggles, squeezing his knee again. He draws his hand down Bdubs’ shin and to his ankle, where he keeps it there.

Carefully, Bdubs combs his fingers through Etho’s hair. It’s not any different than usual, besides the length. He keeps relatively good care of it, the ends are fine, it’s short enough not to reliably knot. Sifting his fingers through takes little effort on Bdubs’ part as he easily separates three sections out, twisting the hair between his fingers as he braids. Etho slumps forward a bit, shoulders rounding out, the base of his spine and lower ribs pressed into Bdubs’ space.

“I learned how to do this a long time ago,” Bdubs says absently as he works. He watches Etho’s LED spin again, and takes that as a sign that he’s still paying attention. “Had’ta use ropes since I didn’t know anyone with hair long enough to actually practice on. It’s easy to do a simple one when you’ve got the hang’ve it, though.”

“Are you expecting me to not ask you for help when I need it?” Etho says, amusement slipping into his tone. Bdubs pokes the back of his neck.

“I’m just sayin’,” he grumbles. “You don’t have’ta learn, I’m just tellin’ a story. Jeez, Etho.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Etho placates, still giggling. “Maybe I’ll learn as long as you teach me.”

Bdubs huffs out a laugh.

“Maybe,” he parrots. He curls his hair into the last section of the small, tight braid, hoping that force alone will keep it together just for a bit. As he lets go, Etho’s hand comes back to feel out the braid, smoothing the rest of his hair back behind his ears. With most of it tucked back, only the tufts of hair in the front spill into his eyes. When he turns back to Bdubs, a soft smile tugs at his face. Bdubs reaches on instinct to push his hair back, dragging his hand down his cheek as he pulls away. He pretends not to notice that Etho’s ears have gone slightly blue as he turns away from him.

“You like it?” Bdubs asks, voice coming uncharacteristically soft. Etho nods silently. “Good.”

Bdubs leans forward into Etho’s space, then, tucking himself against the strong curve of his back. He can feel, ever so slightly, the hum of his thirium pump, the heat that he gives off from all the moving equipment inside his chest. There, he lets out a soft sigh. Etho squeezes his ankle.

“You let me know if you need me to do it again, alright?” Bdubs asks. Etho lets out a long breath of air.

“I will,” he says, voice crackling ever so.

Good, Bdubs thinks. He likes the sound of that.

[panevanbuckley]

anyone else's tabs filled with multiple half-read fics like some sort of tragic fanfic cemetery because a new hyperfixation grabbed hold of you with an iron grip and refused to let go or is it just me??