#giggling to myself in the library like an idiot

[antaripirate]

rhy: brother, let’s hit the town!

kell:

this is so fucking dumb but i wanted a break from my lab report xoxo

[zephyrchama]

The Most Popular Book

(Obey Me! brothers and reader)

"Oh? Levi, what are you doing in here?"

Asmodeus had just returned home after a long, busy day. Brand name bags adorned his arm and he still had sunglasses on. While en route to his own room, the surprised demon happened to find your bedroom door wide open. The person brazenly rummaging around inside was not you, but Leviathan.

The Avatar of Envy was opening drawers, sliding his hands across shelves, and turning everything over. He jumped at being caught, but quickly regained composure upon seeing who it was, and with clear annoyance said, "I left my charger in here and can't find it."

Exhausted but never one to pass up on quality bonding time, Asmodeus decided to make this his business, too. "Should you really be in here when they're not home? Won't they get mad?"

"I'm just getting my charger and leaving, that's it." Leviathan was grumpier than usual when his D.D.D. battery ran out. He started sifting through your bed sheets for the lost cable, tossing pillows onto the floor and dragging the blanket off in case you used it and the cord had been tucked in somewhere.

Amid the plush bedding, something hard audibly hit the carpet. Leviathan and Asmodeus both turned towards it, expecting to find the square end of a plug. Instead, the culprit was an unassuming little book that had fallen out of your pillowcase.

"Is that a dirty book?" Asmodeus asked in delight. "Hurry and open it, I wanna see what they're into."

"I don't think so? It's not flashy, there's nothing on the back. Don't those usually have pictures all over?" Leviathan picked it up and turned the unassuming tome over. "Nothing on the front, either."

He cracked it open to a random page, spent five seconds reading it, and had all color drain from his face. He slammed the book shut with both hands and tried to shove it back in the pillowcase. "I-i-it's nothing. This is nothing. I think I'm done, I'll find my c-c... cabl... I'll find it later."

This would not fly with Asmodeus. This just made him more curious. "What is it?"

Asmodeus lunged and snatched the pillow from out of Leviathan's hands, who was still too stunned to react properly. All he could do was protest loudly as Asmodeus victoriously retrieved the mystery book and opened it.

He squealed. "Is this what I think it is?"

"Put it back! Idiot!" Leviathan shouted.

No commotion in the House of Lamentation could go unnoticed for long. Other residents were already on their way to scold them for being loud. Belphegor and Satan were the first to arrive, disgruntled that their meeting in the library had been disturbed.

"Can you keep it down?" the youngest reprimanded. "We're in the middle of something."

"I can't hear myself think over your nonsense," Satan added. However, he was quick to notice how unusual it was for the Avatar of Lust to be reading of his own accord. Not a magazine, but an actual book was in Asmodeus' grip. This piqued Satan's interest. "What do you have there?"

"Nothing," Leviathan insisted. His desperate attempts to pilfer it from Asmodeus made it very clear that this was not 'nothing.'

"You're not going to believe this," Asmodeus giggled.

Beelzebub, Mammon, and Lucifer just so happened to come around the corner at the same time. Beelzebub, who had been doing his own thing l, was glad to see where his twin had gone off to and stayed silent to watch the mess unfold.

Mammon was acting like a high and mighty big brother ready to punish his silly little siblings for acting out. He had an oddly serious air about him. He was followed closely by Lucifer, who had been in the middle of lecturing Mammon and wanted to quickly get back to that punishment. They arrived right in time to hear Asmodeus announce, "Levi found a diary!"

It took mere seconds for everyone to put two and two together - a diary was found. They were in your room. It obviously belonged to none other than you. It appeared you were actively using this diary. The diary they now had access to.

"Hey now! Give me that!" Mammon commanded, shouldering past Satan to confiscate the diary. His ears were pink. "What are you all thinkin'? You're not s'pposed to be lookin' at that!"

Belphegor was quick to quip, "I suppose you want us to give it to you for safe keeping?"

"That's right!" Mammon nodded. "I'll hold on to this until they come home so none of you can read it."

"And you'll get to read it all by yourself. You're so obvious." Satan crossed his arms and glared at Mammon, who shrugged.

Lucifer was next to pluck it from Mammon's grip. "If anyone is holding on to this for safe keeping, it will be me."

"We should put it back where it was," Beelzebub said. "That way, they won't find out and get embarrassed. Or mad."

Leviathan latched on to this idea quickly. "Yes! Exactly! Beel's right! Let's just put it back!" He shook the pillowcase, ready to put things back to how they were, eager for this situation to end.

"What were you doing in here to begin with?" Lucifer asked, full of suspicion. He eyed the messy shelves and floor. "You know this room is off-limits when they're not home."

"Yeah, Levi! What's wrong with you?" Mammon shouted, glad to pin blame on somebody else for once.

"I was looking for my charger! That's it! Perfectly innocent!" Leviathan insisted.

Lucifer sighed and said, "you should have waited for them to return. Now look at this mess. I expect you to clean this all up before-"

"Hey, Satan! No fair!" Asmodeus yelled. At some point during the verbal squabble, Satan had managed to get his fingers on the coveted book and was now skimming its pages covered in your handwriting. Lucifer narrowed his eyes and frowned as a menacing disposition took hold.

"We should read it together," Belphegor said as Mammon tackled Satan to the ground in an attempt to wrestle the diary away. "Somebody read it aloud to us."

"No! We couldn't possibly...!" Leviathan's resolve was wavering. "Could we...? No! We shouldn't... Unless they wrote something about me? Maybe?"

"We should put it back," Beelzebub repeated, squeezing his hands together nervously. "I don't think they want us reading that. If they want us to know something, they would just tell us."

Nobody was paying attention because at the same time, in between punches to the face, Satan confirmed that, "they wrote about all of us. I don't know what, though."

Belphegor and Asmodeus jumped into the fray, wanting to get their hands on it at any cost. Who knew what could be written about them inside of that book? Belphegor grabbed Satan from the back as Asmodeus kicked Mammon's leg aside, trying to snatch the tome from above. Mammon snarled and proclaimed, "That diary's mine! Y'hear? All mine!"

One by one, demon forms began to take over. Your possessions scattered around the room and rolled under the bed as tails and leathery wings whipped through the air. The edges of your diary got dented and the page edges became scratched, even though whoever was in possession of it at any given time was fiercely protective of it.

Belphegor had the book pressed against his chest and was curled defensively around it while Lucifer picked him up and shook the youngest brother like an empty bag. Beelzebub did not like this. He side-stepped over Leviathan, who was preoccupied with attempting to bite Lucifer's ankle and shake Mammon off his tail, and body-checked the eldest into dropping his twin. Asmodeus and Satan were ready and waiting, clawing to reclaim the diary.

Everyone was howling and shouting in the world's most violent game of keep-away. It was a jarring sight. You froze in your tracks at the doorway. Limbs tangled together, feathers and scales flew everywhere, there were several fresh dents in the floor. A really powerful "stay" was going to be needed if you were to put a stop to the situation. At the very least, it was going to be a doozy to write about in your diary.

[lalacliffthorne]

modern!batboys as (your) roommates - headcanons.

because let's be honest, we have all thought about that at some point.🦇

(this is the introduction of my new drabble universe!!! I can´t tell you how fucking excited I am.)

it would be wrong to say that your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roommates

sure, it wasn't as exciting

but you had your tiny little apartment, went out with friends once in a while and mostly enjoyed having your own space and routines

but then

shit hits the fan

and by shit I mean your landlord

because of a loophole in the rental agreement, he's able to kick you out of your apartment with only a months notice

in other words

you're fucked

or, as your best friend Feyre, who you met the first week of orientation and became inseperable with, says -

"That bastard." Feyre's eyes are stormy.

"What the hell am I gonna to do?" You bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled when you mumble: "How am I supposed to find a new apartment in a few weeks? For this one, I looked over a year, and it's a glorified shoebox!" Your voice rises as you feel a wave of dread crash over you and your heart rising into your throat.

"Hey, it's okay. If worst comes to worst, you can crash at my place,", Feyre raises her brows, "even though we'd have to share my bed, but - I won't just let you sleep on a park bench if that's what you're worried about. Unless you find another glorified shoebox that's technically out of your budget, it's you and me, crashing on my bed, climbing over your stuff to get to the bathroom, finding out what married life would feel like."

even though you love her to death, that really does not sound like an option you want to explore

so you try everything

scouring every paper for apartment advertisments, posting on your uni's socials, going to all the viewings you can find -

nothing

but just when you're ready to just give up

a miracle happens

the miracle is 5'5, has impeccable style and hair, a love for deep red lipstick and drops by for lunch

Mor has been your friend for two years now, since you almost spilled your coffee over her laptop at the library

(she's still not letting you live that down)

she also likes to get you out of your comfort zone

"Are you serious?" Mor stares at you wide-eyed.

"Yep." You tiredly stir your coffee. "I've been turned away for twenty apartments in the past few days alone. I'm aready seeing myself bunking with Feyre. She offered, but her bed barely fits into her apartment as it is."

Mor breathes a giggle before hastily clearing her throat. "Sorry."

You grin weakly before rubbing your face. "I don't know what I'm gonna do. I know it could be even worse, but -"

"It already feels pretty shitty,", Mor ends. You sigh in confirmation and are about to change the topic, because you haven't seen the blonde in weeks and feel bad about ruining your lunch. But before you can open your mouth, Mor suddenly squints in thought. Then she looks at you.

"How much do you value your privacy?

Given the fact you'll be basically homeless on the street in about a week if you don't find a new place - not much.

Mor begins to grin, and there's a bright twinkle in her eyes.

"Well, then I might just have the solution."

the next day, Mor drags you downtown

she takes you to an old but sophisticated building you wouldn't even dream about living in

a single month's rent there would probably empty your whole bank account

but Mor just winks and pulls you up the stairs

on the third floor, a guy leans in an open door

and that

is how you meet Rhys.

Mor's cousin is annoyingly beautiful

tall, with perfectly tousled dark hair, a perfect grin that causes his cheeks to crease and, from the looks of it, the also perfect physique

he's also annoyingly charming

if you'd met him somewhere without Mor, you would have probably gaped for a moment before catching onto the mischievous twinkle in his nearly violet eyes and promptly avoided him, because someone that pretty had to have some fault

as it turns out, Rhys' fault is offering practical strangers to live with him without even batting an eye

"What?"

You blink at Mor from where you just sank onto one of the two very comfortable couches, because she can't possibly -

"Okay, before you freak out, just listen, okay?" Mor is grinning giddily. "The guys have a free room they don't really use anyway and you really need a new place - so you could just move in here!" She beams. "The place is definitely big enough, and you'd fit in perfectly, I promise! They're just as chaotic as you, but also very responsible -"

"Mostly." Rhys' eyes are twinkling. He's looking completely and slightly concerningly unbothered by the prospect of you, a factual stranger, moving in with him and his friends.

"- they don't have any bad habits, they're fairly neat -"

"Mostly."

Mor widens her eyes at you. "It's perfect!"

You blink at her.

"I've already talked to my roommates." Rhys' deep voice is almost soothing - mostly because he sounds a lot calmer than Mor, steady and reassuring.

"If you want, this can be temporary, until you find a place just for yourself, but this way you don't have to stress about needing to find a place in a certain time, plus,", he cracks a grin, "I don't like the idea of you having to crash on somebody's couch in the foreseeable future, that's just bullshit if we got a free room here no one uses anway. And if this works,", one corner of his lips quirks even more until his grin is a lot closer to the wicked twinkle in his eyes, "none of us would mind another roommate."

"You don't have to decide right now." Mor smiles brightly. "But I think it would be great, and you'd make a bargain with the rent, because Rhys loves to play sugar daddy -", her cousin flips her off, "and I think this would be a really good idea." She grins, suddenly a little sheepish.

if you weren't so desperate, you would whip out about a dozen arguments about why this probably isn't a good idea

like the fact that rooming with three dudes sounds like a lot of testosteron, or that you don't even know them, and that they don't even know you -

but from the way Rhys lounges in his chair, smirking easily while Mor beams at you, he doesn't seem to see too much of a problem in that

also you are very, very desperate

but there's still that one thing -

"About those roommates -"

When you hear the door, you raise your head, your heart doing a slightly concerning flip in your chest.

It's a day later, and you just finished the tour of the apartment Rhys has given you. Even though it's huge and very grand with it's high ceilings decorated with stucco and the original hardwood floors, it feels warm and cozy. The room you'd be sleeping in is as big as your whole current apartment, light with two big window and a view of the trees on the street outside.

It kind of makes you wonder where the catch is.

Maybe it's about to walk through the door.

You hear a deep voice and heavy footsteps, then a dude appears in the door to the kitchen.

Your heart does a somersault, and you feel your lips part a bit. Because frankly, it's a miracle he makes it through the door without hitting his head.

The guy's huge. His shoulders and chest strain against his t-shirt; he looks like one of those dudes who basically have muscle in their DNA, all corded muscle under ridiculously wide shoulders and a solid middle, muscular long legs under black jeans -

And you're staring.

Big time.

The dude's looking over his shoulder, which means he thankfully doesn't notice you oggling him. The half of his hair that isn't pulled back in a bun brushes against his neck when he grins, his cheeks creasing. He's really good looking, in a rugged kinda way, with his roughly curved jaw and the scar on the side of his face, and when he looks back ahead, his eyes twinkle warmly.

Then, behind him, another guy appears in the doorway, and your breath catches.

Because if Rhys is annoyingly beautiful, the guy in the door is drop-dead gorgeous.

Just like the other two, he's tall and all lean muscle. His shoulders shift under his black t-shirt as he leans against the doorframe, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black jeans. His eyes look like amber in sunlight, his dark hair is tousled, a strand curving over his forehead. His face is all angles and soft lips, with dark brows that look like he likes to crunch them in a scowl, but right now, he looks fairly relaxed, though his gaze is watchful.

And on yours.

Feeling warmth wash into your cheeks, you hastily look away while crap, crap, crap echoes through your head, because of course he caught you staring.

On to a really great start here.

Your gaze grazes his hands and the bit of uneven skin that merges into veiny, tan forearms before your eyes trail over the tattoos scattered over them, some peaking out from his sleeves.

There's the sound of someone clearing their throat, and you feel the heat in your cheeks deepen when your eyes dart up and meet Rhys', a twinkle in his iris when he sends you a lazy grin.

"Boys, this is Y/N." He raises a brow. "Our new roommate."

and that is how you meet Cassian and Azriel

it almost makes you reconsider

because you're really not sure you're gonna survive rooming with three guys that pretty

but after thinking it over for a couple of days, you realize that you really don't have a choice

and so a week later, Rhys and Cassian come over to your apartment to help you move the first half of your stuff

neither blink an eye at the fact it's about the size of a broom closet in comparison to their home

Rhys does however scowl when he sees the condition of the bathroom

you're ready to sink into the floor when you hastily explain pretty much all the apartments in the building look like that

(a lil dingy and moldy)

but when he turns, Rhys just glowers and grumbles under his breath about how he'd like to rip your landlord a new one

it's the first time you realize that under all the aloofness and swagger and cheeky grins, Rhys cares

it's proven again when you move into your new room a week later and there's a new mattress on the also new bed

you haven't bought either of them, but when you try to protest, Rhys just huffs about your back probably being fucked up because of your old one and about how he'll add it to your rent

he never does

you get used to rooming with three guys surprisingly quickly

sure, it is pretty much a total 180 -

going from living alone in a tiny apartment

to sharing a huge flat with three dudes who make the place vibrate with laughter and bicker like they have been married for thirty years

but even tho you never thought you'd be the type to actually enjoy having roommates

you find that with them - you don't really mind

of course it is nice to have the place to yourself sometimes

and after about two weeks, you're comfortable enough to blast your music and dance through the kitchen when you're alone

(yes, at some point, they catch you - it takes you about a minute to realize there are three guys standing in the doorway, watching you dance with a broom. you get a mild heart attack and Cassian and Rhys start cackling while Azriel smirks)

but even if usually there's always someone around -

you find that all three of them are very good at both respecting your boundaries and leaving you be when you need to curl up in your room

but also seem to know when you need someone to drag your ass out into the world

and something about knowing at least one of them will probably be there when you get home makes you feel very warm and fuzzy

and even tho you weren't completely sure about this situation in the beginning

you get roped into living with the three guys instead of just rooming with them pretty easily

it really starts with Cassian

probably gets used to you living there the quickest

after barely a week, he's treating you like you've lived with them since the beginning

like just sticking his head into your room and making you help him with dinner

it surprises you a little that they all have dinner together

from what you've heard from friends who have roommates, they usually all do their own thing most of the time

but it makes you realise that these guys are more family than just roommates

Cassian is surprisingly easy to talk to

he's quick with the quips and the banter

also very flirtatious

constantly makes you laugh, his deep, boisterous chuckles infectous

also super affectionate

you're convinced the man is actually just a huge teddybear

after just a few weeks, you're used to hugs that lift you off your feet

cheek kisses as greetings

and being casually lifted out of the way like you don't weigh anything

not that you're the only one who gets that treatment

no, there are hugs in greeting that make Rhys groan dramatically like his air supply is cut off

and pats on the shoulder and smacking forehead kisses that make Azriel crinkle his nose

Cassian quickly becomes the one you go to when you need advice

he always listens attentively

doesn't sugarcoat things

stays objective while never making you feel bad or less about anything

and it quickly becomes pretty clear he'd put everything aside if any of you ever need help

gives you rides in his beat up truck to uni

and always picks you up when studying at the library gets late bc he doesn't like the idea of you out alone after dark

with Cass, even mundane things like grocery shopping become fun

he's just casually funny and teases the shit out of you at every opportunity

has no understanding of the concept of personal space

and with most people, that would kinda put you off a little in the beginning

but Cassian just has something about him

something so inheritly good and warm and sunny

that he never once makes you feel uncomfortable

if anything, with him around, you feel a lot more at ease

and not just bc it's always nice to have a guy in your back that towers over you like a lighthouse

though the whole massive, tatted dude with the dark eyes thing kinda goes out of the window as soon as he grins at you

dimples and all

but still, don't be fooled

when the grin's gone and he's glaring, you know why people make way for him immediately

he works at a gym to earn some money at the side

once, he takes you with him just for fun

then that one time becomes another and before you know it, you tag along twice a week

and it would be wrong to say it's not doing something to you when he crouches in front of or behind you, his deep voice rumbling as he mumbles encouragements

"Alright, come on, sweetheart, gimme one more."

Trying not to make a very embarassing groaning sound, you crunch your face in concentration and slowly lower yourself into a squat, your muscles trembling slightly.

"There you go, that's it." You can feel Cassian in your back, spotting you, his deep voice rumbling through you, and it's just almost distracing enough for you to -

"No, no, come on, you can do it." Cassian's deep chuckle sets you at ease, and he lightly pats the side of your thigh. "You got this, c'mon."

With a soft groan, you push yourself up again, and you can hear the triumph and wide grin in Cassian's voice when he goes: "Yeeessss, good job, baby. C'mon, you can do one more."

Blowing out a heavy breath and glaring at nothing in particular, you ready yourself.

when one day, he makes you lose focus, you're gonna throw something at him

you're pretty sure he does it on purpose just to see how red you can get

but Cass is really good at pushing you without overdoing it, always teasing and encouraging

and if you manage to do something, in the gym or otherwise, he grins so widely you're almost sure he's more proud of you than you are yourself

Rhys is a flirt.

and after you get over the first initial blush that just won't leave you alone for the first few weeks

it actually becomes entertaining

now bantering back and forth is basically all you do

it gets so bad, Azriel constantly rolls his eyes at the two you

but just like you suspected, behind all the flirtiness and mischievous grins

Rhys cares

a lot

whenever you're upset, he looks like he's contemplating ripping apart whatever or whoever made you upset

and whenever someone has a go at Cass or Azriel, Rhys picks them apart with lethal precision and a wicked smile

if Cassian is most affectionate, Rhys is close second

he's slightly more casual about it

pinching your nose, flicking your ear softly, offering his cheek for a kiss in greeting

always down for amazing hugs tho

whenever you get on your period, Rhys turns full mother hen

it's actually quite entertaining to see a 6-foot-something dude grumble because you don't want to take painkillers

"I just don't like to take them until it's really necessary, okay?" You glower at Rhys, curling up on the couch and trying to suppress a wince.

Rhys incredulously narrows his eyes.

"You're bleeding from inner organs and look like you want to curl into the couch. I'd say it is pretty necessary."

behind all the snark and arrogance, Rhys cares

also seems to have a rather unhealthy tendency to put everyone else first

you catch on pretty easily that even though his father is absolutely loaded, Rhys doesn't particularly cares about his money

in fact

he doesn't hesitate to spend whatever money his father pumps into his bank accounts for a second

when you ask Mor about it, she just smiles lopsidedly.

"I think it's his kind of protest?" She squints into the sun shining onto the balcony of the flat, the big glass of iced tea in her hand glittering in the light. "You know, spending all that money, preferably on his friends? Mostly because I don't think his father really likes them."

You wince.

"He knows he can't win against his father." Mor crunches her brows in thought. "I think he came to terms with having to take over the business one day, and he cares about the people who have their jobs there, so he won't let them down. It's just hard sometimes, if your whole life is already planned out for you." She shrugs gently. "Doing this, living with Cassian and Azriel and now you, spending his fathers money on it and actually having a good time instead of just being bitter and stuck up - it's his way of not surrendering completely."

you have never met Rhys' father, but even tho he's powerful af

you really feel a strong desire to kick him in the balls

Rhys has a knack of knowing exactly when you need to talk and when you need to be distracted

it's not unusual that after a bad day, he just joins you on the couch, plopping down and pulling your feet onto his lap

it either leads to you venting and him listening

usually giving very appropriate responses of either huffs, scowls or downright glowering

or, if you don't want to talk

he either lets you use him as a human pillow, grumbling over your choice of movie while scratching your head

or he takes you out

to the cinema, a museum, the theater -

you're pretty sure you've grown a lot more cultured in a few months than the whole of your life before that

it never gets boring tho

the whole thing kinda annoys the crap out of you in the beginning bc he never lets you pay for anything

but you get better at finding ways to pay him back in other ways

like taking over making dinner on days when he's exhausted

coaxing rants out of him when his father gets to him

dragging him out on nightly walks through the city when he can't sleep

and after a while

you understand that it's just one of Rhys' love languages

and it is fun to spend his father's money ;)

especially when it means museum Saturdays with the two of you just sitting and staring at paintings

or going to the cinema and pigging out on popcorn and greasy stuff while whisper-hissing fun facts at each other

even takes you to stuff like wine tastings

Rhys is a foodie

likes super fancy pickles, trying food you can't even pronounce and splurging on dinner

and if he decides the two of you need to get out of the apartment

one way or another

it usually ends in a restaurant

always orders like half the menu

also cooks the best out of all of you

like I'm talking freaking perfection

whips up the fanciest, most delicious far-too-many-courses meal for holidays

and goes all in even if he just makes dinner

you often get lured into the kitchen by the delicious smells

usually ends up with you on the couch at the table while Rhys moves around the kitchen

talking about everything and nothing

(also not above slapping anyone's hand away if they try to sneak a taste)

Azriel is quiet

not shy; you catch onto that pretty quickly

he's too quick and easy on any dry remark in response to his friends' boisterous teasing for that

and his gaze too firm and piercing

rarely shies away when you catch his gaze

in the beginning

that intimidated the shit out of you

the way he appears without a sound, towering over you, all dark and quiet and brooding

it's like he perfected the art of going unnoticed

tho you're not quite sure how

bc how could anyone not notice him?

after a while tho

you realise that even tho Azriel is dark and glowering and brooding

there's something gentle about him

it surfaces in the smallest things

like how his lips curve the softest bit when you grin up at him

how light and careful his touch is

how he is always respectful, putting himself between you and the street, holding doors open without ever seeming to think twice about it

and how everything about him seems to darken when he witnesses anyone being treated poorly

but even if anger rages within him like a quickly rising tide, quiet and dangerous

you still always feel safe with him

maybe it's bc, even in those moments, you just know it will never be directed at you

and that even tho there's always that darkness within him, it's never something that feels unsettling or dangerous

and instead soft and welcoming

like something about him and that steady, dark gaze just calms you

maybe because he's so quiet, Azriel seems to see and hear everything

in record time, he begins to catch onto every little detail about you

mundane things

like how you like your favorite drink or what your favorite ice cream is

the only reason you know he notices is because he begins to hand you cups in the morning that are exactly right and the freezer starts to always hold a big container of your favorite ice cream

but also seems to know exactly what your tell is when you're nervous

uncomfortable

or tired

what makes you upset

happy

nervous

what causes you to giggle uncontrollably

and so on

it should probably unsettle you, how easily he sees through you

but it doesn't

sure, it's a bit weird at first

but you quickly realise it's strangely comforting - that someone pays enough attention to know even the smallest thing about you

Azriel is your favorite person to be around when you just need a break

it's like something about him is grounding, steady

like being around him makes your thoughts calm down

makes it easier for you to sort the chaos your mind sometimes becomes

you quickly realise that beneath all of the quiet watchfulness lies a wicked, dry sense of humor

his mumbled remarks make you snort laughter or beam widely up at him

always makes his lips curve

he reads a ton

when you first see his room, you almost gape

because the man has books

they fill the shelves

balance in towers on the floor

sit on the window sill and next to his bed

most of the books in the shelves in the living room are his as well

has a great dislike for movie adaptions

sits there with that scowl of his, glaring at you until it's over when you make him watch one

says it destroys the pictures in his head

(to be fair

you don't think he's entirely wrong about that)

always has a camera in reach

got a few, all older ones; no fancy digital ones, but all on film

just like he seems to catch onto everything

so does his camera

it's like the manifestation of his quiet perception of things

to fix things onto film

he captures everything

most of the time, you don't even notice

only sometimes you raise your head to find the camera in his hands, a slight curve to his lips

develops all pictures himself, in a dark room on campus students can book

spends hours in there, just working in silence

there's usually a lot of bugging involved before he shows the developed pictures to anyone

usually ends in all of you leaning over them eagerly, trying to figure out when he took them

Rhys standing in the kitchen, grinning over his shoulder like Cassian just made a bad joke

you and Feyre, laughing so hard you lean into each other

Mor, lying upside down on the couch while focusing on the cards in her hand while you're next to her, mid-motion, a focused expression on your face

Cassian napping on the couch, twisted in a very uncomfortable position to fit all six feet something of him onto the cushions

there seems to be an endless number, and they're all carefully stored away in his shelves

some, he refuses to show to anyone

it takes you so little time to feel at home in the huge flat, the prospect of looking for an apartment for yourself is off the table before you can actually start

and it doesn't take long until you're part of the routines like you'd been there since the beginning

Saturday and Sunday evenings are for movie nights

sometimes, Mor joins you

you sit with Azriel on the couch, sharing a big bowl of popcorn while staring at Rhys and Cassian argue about which Star Wars movie to start with

in the summer, you take trips to the lake for swimming and laying in the sun

have game nights

evenings sitting on the balcony, squinting into the setting sun

barbecues

and afternoons in the park, one joining in after the other

in winter, you go to the ice rink

bake together

and spend whole weekends on the couch, watching movies

you go to the gym with Cassian or accompany him on his runs

(well, he's running - you're on your bicycle, because there's no way you can keep up with that dude´s long legs)

or get dragged out onto hikes by Rhys

in the evenings, you usually all end up in the kitchen for dinner, banter thrown over the dinner table

Azriel and you mostly take care of the grocery shopping together

it usually entails you trying to reach something on a high shelf and Azriel huffing, moving to grab it without even having to stretch

sometimes Cassian joins in, and you both make it your mission to annoy Azriel until he cracks a grin

both Az and Rhys regularly give you rides on their motorcycles

while Cassian likes to stick to his old, beat up truck, Rhys has a car as well, but alternates between it and the motorcycle

more often than not, he uses it as opportunity to flirt

small cleaning duties in the apartment are rotated between the four of you

but big-once-a-month-deep-cleans are something you make a day of

blasting music, you divide the flat and get to work

(bathroom duty is rotated)

in the (very rare) case of an argument, it usually ends in one of you being mediator

which means after a cooling off period

the arguing parties are locked in the pantry until they've talked things out

works surprisingly well

sometimes, the boys bring someone home

it usually comes with a text

or the very oldschool sock on the door

tho you ban that one after Cassian forgets it

and you walk into the flat unsuspectingly only to be flashed

Cassian apologizes profoundly

after he's done laughing

there are also a few awkward encounters in the hall in the morning that leave you contemplating not running around in just big t-shirts

Feyre still gives you rides to campus and back

but sometimes, it's Azriel waiting in the parking lot instead, leaning against his motorcycle, two helmets next to him

it does not help with the way your heart seems to speed up whenever you find his amber eyes on you

but you're very adamant on pushing that away

it's probably not that serious anyway.

so

it would be wrong to say your life was boring before you met the three idiots you now call your roomates

but it sure as hell is a lot better now that you have

even if they do drive you a little nuts sometimes

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels

[lovelytsunoda]

indecent exposure // liam lawson

summary: some men should not be allowed to buy gag shirts when they go to vegas. liam lawson is not one of them. or, the liam face-sitting fic i've been ruminating on for months and never wrote.

pairing: liam lawson x female! reader

warnings: 18+!!! SMUT!!! porn with very minimal plot if i do say so myself. lots of double entendres for common police charges (disorderly conduct, indecent exposure etc.), liam refers to himself as 'agent lawson' and makes us all cringe with laughter. the actual face-sitting portion of the fic is really only a few paragraphs at the end lmao the foreplay was too fun with all the cop jokes-

author's note: somebody should take both my library card and every british detective show in existence away from me because this is what happens when i watch too many episodes of anything with a hot detective in it. never mind the fact that i binged lauren layne's new yorks finest series last year when i was snowed in and my classes were cancelled for almost a week

there was nothing that y/n loved more than coming home from a long day at work and taking her dress pants off. and her high heels, and her bra. typically this would be followed by a pint of ben and jerrys and a few episodes of 'grace and frankie'. sometimes it would be followed by a feel good eighties movie, or by her boyfriend ordering takeout and ravishing her while they waited for it to arrive.

all of these were good options, as far as y/n was concerned.

"hey babe!" liam shouted, darting across the hall from the small gym space they'd set up, to the master bedroom. "look what i found in the closet...jesus. you look gorgeous." he stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed on his goddess of a girlfriend as she stood in front of the gilded mirror next to the walk-in closet.

"you saw be before i left for work." she laughed, taking out the small diamond studs in her ears. they were a gift from liam for their anniversary. "all i've done is take off my slacks and bra, and undo my shirt a little bit."

but it wasn't the lack of pants that was getting liam all flustered, nor was it the way the collar of her silk work shirt dipped down just a little too far, the hem not quite long enough to cover the area where thigh met ass.

no, it was the black prada glasses that delicately framed her eyes. the eyes that had so captivated liam from the moment they met.

"if you ever decide to get contacts, i'm leaving you. seriously."

he wasn't serious in the slightest.

"the way you look in those glasses should be a crime. you're gorgeous, babe."

facing him, she laughed, hands on her hips. "i thought you threw that shirt out!"

she groaned internally, looking at the tight-fitting black cotton shirt that liam was wearing, and the cracking white vinyl lettering over his heart. fbi. a gag gift he had bought in vegas. it was too tight despite it's age, hugging each and every one of liam's muscles far too tight, and looking deceptively erotic when paired with his dark blue jeans.

"so did i! isn't it great?" he grinned like an idiot, spinning in a little circle to show off the writing on the back.

female body inspector.

who the fuck came up with these things? on any random guy in the street, she would have gagged at the vulgar implications of the words. on her boyfriend? she only rolled her eyes.

"there's a reason it went missing in the move, babe."

liam shook his head, ignoring her words. "ma'am, i'm special agent lawson from the federal bureau of investigations. i've received a complaint about disorderly conduct on the premises. and now that i'm here i might have to upgrade that charge to indecent exposure, little lady."

"you're such a fucking idiot." she giggled, looping her arms around her boyfriend's neck before kissing him softly. "i love you."

"love you more." he rasped in between kisses, his hands travelling underneath the hem of her shirt. "what do you say the two of us make a case for disturbing the peace?"

"if you make one more cop-related come on, i'm walking out that front door and never coming back."

liam flashed a shit-eating grin, raking his bleached blonde hair out of his face. "so does that mean you won't consent to a frisk search?"

"i will humor you this one time." she laughed, taking a step back. "take it away, agent. but you do realize that the fbi don't get to make disorderly conduct calls? that's a beat cop's job."

"i seem to recall that you have a right to remain silent?"

she winked, undoing another button on her shirt, the fabric falling away just enough to give liam a glimpse of the soft flesh of her breasts. "and i don't recall being read my rights."

"hands against the wall, feet shoulder width apart, you beautiful smartass." liam laughed, waiting for her to turn slightly before playfully swatting at her backside. "then i can read them to you."

the wall was cold against her palms as she got into position, listening half-heartedly as liam attempted to remember the american miranda rights. he got about as far as 'you have the right to remain silent' and 'you have the right to an attorney' before he gave up.

"you know what, this isn't that serious. fuck the right to remain silent, you have the right to remain sexy as fuck. how about that." she could hear the playful annoyance in his voice, and couldn't help the smile that broke out across her face.

there was the liam she knew and loved. not one to mince words, even in the bedroom.

his smooth hands were a welcome presence on her body, travelling up her legs, over her hips and up the sides of her torso. torturously slow, his warm hands dipped underneath her shirt, taking her breasts in his hands, her peaked nipples between his fingers.

heat rose to her skin, adding a rosy sheen in the halflight. she sighed under his touch, her head dropping back to rest on liam's shoulder. liam smiled fondly, one of his hands reaching for hers, the other dropping to cradle her waist.

"you're beautiful." he hummed, kissing her neck gently. "i hope you know that."

this was a side of liam that only she ever got to see. on the outside, he gave off frat boy energy: the hair, the way he carried himself. the way he spoke. but just under the surface, was a man who was wrapped around his girlfriend's finger. one who loved shamelessly, and with his whole heart.

pulling away from the wall, the turned in his hold to face him, tangling her hands in his hair and kissing him deeply.

"if you can get that shirt off without tearing a stitch, you can keep it."

liam beamed, breaking from the embrace to scramble for the hem of the worn t-shirt. he had almost gotten it over his head when he heard the first few stitches begin to pop, fabric getting stuck by his shoulders.

"fuck!"

"need some help with that?"

"i think i'm good!"

somehow they ended up on the bed, both half dressed and pent up. she was soaked through her thong, despite her earlier attitude towards the t-shirt and further proving the point that her lover looked good in just about anything (or nothing, for that matter). she was needy, every nerve in her body reacting to the way liam's tongue probed her mouth, the way his hands touched her body. the way he moaned when she pressed up against the bulge in his jeans.

"babe," he mumbled in between kisses. "do you trust me?"

she cocked an eyebrow, brushing his bangs out of his face before looking down at him "should i be worried?"

"do you trust me, yes or no?"

"of course, li. of course i trust you."

liam nodded. "good. so sit on my face."

she paused, almost as if her brain was sending up error messages. she knew this day would come. liam lawson would eat pussy any which way. truthfully, she was shocked this day hadn’t come sooner.

it wasn’t that she didn’t want to. of course she wanted to.

“babe, how will you be able to breathe? I’ll suffocate you.” she protested, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

“sweetheart, it’s okay. you won’t hurt me. and if-god forbid-I do suffocate, trust me on this, I wouldn’t want to go out any other way than with your thighs on either side of my head.”

and with that, liam took her hands in his, and guided her towards where he needed her most. she looked down at him with a soft smile, running her fingers through his hair.

"i love you." she whispered, moving her hands to the headboard and beginning to lower herself down to meet her lovers tongue.

she inhaled sharply as she made contact, liam's plump lips mouthing at her pussy, her grip tightening on the wooden headboard.

"i've got you, princess." liam's voice was muffled, but his words were reassuring as he ran a hand up and down her thigh. "just ride my face, darlin'. use my tongue to get yourself off."

feeling bolder than she was when she first sat down, she began to grind on liam's face, his nose bumping against her swollen clit with each movement. every bit of friction, every swipe of liam's tongue drove her wild, was like setting fire to her nerve endings.

"oh sweet jesus, god." she whined, fighting the urge to close her thighs together around liam's head, focussing on the way his hands gripped her thighs in a bruising way. she looked down at his face and moaned again, seeing the pleasure mapped out on her boyfriend's features.

"oh, i'm in heaven." he moaned, pulling her down further to plunge his tongue inside of her, rapidly flicking it inside and out.

her eyes rolled back as her hips bucked, grinding against the tip of his nose as one hand came down to clutch at his hair. tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes as she cried out his name.

"liam- right there, oh my god, keep doing that." she whined, trying to move her hips faster. liam's face was soaked, the entire bottom half coated in her juices. there was so much of it, running down the sides of his cheeks and soaking into the pillowcase behind him.

she felt so good she could barely see, screwing her eyes shut. her pants and whines became closer together and more high pitched, the movement of her hips more frantic as she chased that feeling, that high.

"are you going to cum for me, baby?" liam asked, pulling his face away from her. she continued to drip onto his face, and he opened his mouth wide, catching some of her slick on his tongue. "come on my face. please, i want to be drowning in it."

and how could she say no to that?

she could barely keep her shoulders straight as she resumed her motions, fingers gripping liam's hair to keep herself steady. his hands grasped desperately at the flesh of her ass cheeks, squeezing and massaging as one of her own hands came up to grasp at one of her tits, teasing the peaked nipple between her fingers.

"oh god, liam, i think i'm coming!"

"i've got you, i've got you. just breathe-"

his last word was cut off with a moan as she began to gush, coating his face in her release. his moans were muffled by the weight of her body, but they were no less loud as he set about licking her clean.

her legs felt like jello and her body like mush as liam tried to sit up, easing her body back so that she was sitting in his lap, wet core right over top of the massive bulge in his jeans. liam was certain that if she moved at all while she was on top of him, he'd come in his jeans. totally spent, she slumped against him, resting her head on his chest.

he leaned down to kiss her sweaty forehead and she scrunched up her face. she looked adorable in her fogged-up glasses with her messy hair. and liam couldn't stop his heart from melting as she reached for the box of tissues in the nightstand and began to clean up his face.

"that was incredible." her voice was soft as she cleaned him up. "i had no idea you could do that."

"don't give me all the credit." liam laughed, playfully nipping at her fingers as she moved to wipe his mouth down. "you played a very large part in why i'm still hard right now."

she laughed, a big smile on her face as she looped her arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him softly. with his large hands holding her in place, they kissed again. sweet, chaste and soft, with no intention of it leading anywhere else.

at least, not this early in the evening.

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @httpiastri @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @lorarri @userlando @diorleclerc

[pxgeturner]

kiss it better - t.m riddle

prequel to “milkshakes & confessions” told through mainly his pov

an. all of my tom writing takes has the golden trio cast in modern day. i like his era friends like rebastan, abraxas, rosier. i just don’t know enough about them to write in that era. And also it just easier to write them in a modern setting as i can sprinkle in some modern muggle things. also i’m kind of tired of tom calling hufflepuff r “badger” in so many fics, so she has a much cuter animal nickname. also.

warnings: tommi is down horrendously for r. also theo is an asshole in this.

m.list

he sits a row behind her, next to his friends, listening to her giggle at something her lab partner said. He thinks they’re roommates.

theo leans toward him, whispering, “y’know, riddle, i was walking through the halls yesterday, and that one fell and scraped her hand,”— theo gestures first to the partner, then her— “and she takes her friend’s hand, kisses it fucking better. like a pathetic child.”

tom tilts his head. “hm.”

she leans forward, presumably to note one of professor snape’s remarks, tom isn't sure. he hasn’t paid attention in weeks since he read ahead in the textbook.

“you shouldn’t be so rude, she’s a nice girl.” pansy shoves theo’s shoulder.

“she’s a hufflepuff.”

“so?”

“she’s probably making chocolates or writing secret admirer letters for tomorrow.”

“no she’s not. she’s going to be studying divination tomorrow in the library. she asked me if I wanted to but blaise is taking me on a date.”

“why would she ask you to study with her?” theo scoffs.

“because i’m her friend you idiot. where do you think i’ve been eating my lunch?”

“you’ve gone completely mental.”

“that’s you, you absolute wanker.”

tom sees a hufflepuff who hangs around her quite often. he watches them. soon she approaches them, embracing excitedly in a hug. she squeals unnecessarily. she does it cutely.

“your friend is over there,” he says to pansy.

as pansy looks over, the cute hufflepuff girl notices the group of slytherins and rushes over. “hey, pans!”

“hey.”

“guess what?” “what?”

“professor sprout gave me extra credit on my paper! she was very impressed that i knew about the roots of the bone thistle plant because it wasn’t something that we studied.” her eyes are bright with excitement and her hands dance around as she talks. sometimes her ‘r’s come out a bit too soft and sound like ‘w’s. she smiles widely and it shows her lovely crooked teeth. the sheer nail polish she put on last week is chipping and fading at the tips. she’s wearing her favorite lipgloss and shoes. they’re the ones she wears most often. the lipgloss is red and the shoes are platform mary janes. he likes red lips and mary janes. he likes girls that have lisps and imperfectly lovely teeth. he likes girls who fidget and have chipped nail polish. he likes girls who do all those things and are her.

by the time tom tunes back in, the subject has changed.

“you should have tom study with you. he doesn’t understand the arcana.”

she turns to tom. “i’ll be in the library tomorrow evening studying for the quiz on monday. you should definitely join if you need any help. if you do come, you should bring the deck you borrowed from professor trelawney.”

tom hopes she can’t hear his heart beating, and nods. she says something more to pansy. he leaves, theo follows.

“oh my fucking god. oh my fucking god, pansy, i hate you.” she giggles.

“all of you slytherins are preying on my downfall.” she glares at pansy, enzo, blaise, and draco.

“we’re trying to help,” blaise snickers.

“by having me make a fool of myself!”

mattheo passes by, and then backtracks. he moves around the sucker in his mouth and chuckles. “this is absolutely rich.” he turns back around, “i’m gonna go talk with my brother.” that didn’t make her feel any better.

...

it’s so romantic to spend valentine’s night hunched over a desk with a tarot deck, pendulum, and a mug of now-mostly-cold tea. of course a notebook is part of the party too. she checks the clock and the surroundings compulsively, worried that tom might not show, but she has no idea what she would do if he did. it got excessive, so she forced herself to stop.

tom finally makes it to the library. he sees her at the table, her supplies sprawled out in front of her. he approaches the table, pulling up a chair and sitting across from her. she doesn’t look up, which is fine; tom has plenty of patience. he watches her flip a card and write something into the notebook, and flip another, write something else, periodically sipping from her mug, for five minutes. as she’s about to flip over another card, he uses two fingers to tap the table twice. she yelps, the card leaving her hand and flicking him in the chest. her eyes are wide, and bright, like a bunny.

“hi,” she whispers.

he returns the card. “i’m sorry for being late. a first year needed homework help.” he doesn’t really like lying this time.

“that’s all right! i’m glad you could make it.”

tom nods.

“what kind of things were you hoping to cover?”

“i don’t quite understand why we must take such a useless class. it’s not even magic.”she looks at the table, suddenly interested in her pendulum.

“something wrong?” he wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction.

“i’m, uh, planning on studying divination in university.” oh. “but i know it’s an acquired taste, no biggie.”

“i didn’t mean to offend you. i suppose i should try to understand it. for the class at least.”

“i think i could help with it. who knows, you might like it.”

tom gives a small smile.

“all right, so in a tarot deck there are five arcana.”

“suits.”

“yeah. there’s the four minor arcana: wands, pentacles, swords, cups. the major arcana are the unique cards, like the empress, magician, devil."

he nods.

...

as the two of them are packing up, her bag’s zipper gets stuck. shepulls at it, trying to unstuck it.

“move.” he’s right behind her. she can feel his shirt rub against hers. she slides to the left to give him room. his long fingers manipulate the back of the zipper, quickly freeing the zipper from its thread prison and zipping the bag up the rest of the way.

“pfft, that’s so obvious, why didn’t i think of that? i swear i can be so dumb.” she takes the bag as he offers it back to her.

“you’re not dumb,” he says. “you’re one of the smartest girls in your year.” if she didn’t have such a brain-melting crush on him, she’d laugh. “but you’re definitely the prettiest.”

her cheeks are hot and she doesn’t know what to do. “wow, thanks.” she wants to slap herself.

“there’s a café in hogsmeade that is still open, do you want to go get a drink?”

he just asked me on a date. it is a date, right? “won’t we get in trouble for being out past curfew? pretty much everyone is back already.”

he leans in close to her, fixing a strand of her hair. “relax, you’re with a prefect. nothing bad is gonna happen.”

“let me drop off my bag first?”

...

the two of them talk about everything-- and nothing-- all at once. he pays; she tells him he shouldn’t’ve. he says, “don’t worry, bunny,” which makes her blush once again. once the order is ready, he is the one who goes to pick it up. when he gets back he places a brown pastry bag on the table with her drink. he sees her eyeing the lemon poppyseed scone. she tells him he shouldn’t have, and he says it wasn’t a problem. she insists they share the pastry.

she talks about her family, he tells her about his. the two of them share stories of his brother being a distraction. both of them recommend books to the other. her hands keep brushing against each other as they pick off pieces of the scone. tom orders another. the barista makes a last call for drinks, and he orders her a decaf lavender latte, because he can’t have his girl sleepless, now, can he? she stays until closing, not wanting to leave the bubble she’s created here, with this sweet boy.

before they head out into the frosted air, he zips up her jacket. as they walk back to the castle, he holds her steady. going uphill, the two of them reach a particularly slippery stretch of sidewalk that wasn’t slick on the way over.

“if i fall, you’re buying me dinner as compensation,” she tries to joke. she feels like she’s two seconds from being flat on her face, but tom isn’t wavering at all.

“oh, of course, and i’ll kiss any bruises better as a bonus.” that makes her quiet real quick.

she survives the hill, slightly disappointed that she didn’t slip. once they’re back in the castle, he even walks her to the hufflepuff dorms. “i’ll see you tomorrow, bunny,” he whispers in her ear. he takes note of the smell of the shampoo she uses.

he returns to his dorm, and theo is still awake. he’s at his desk, finishing an assignment. “you studied divination with her,” theo states.

“yes.” tom starts to change into something more comfortable.

“you took her on a date.” “yes.”

“do you think you could love her?” “yes.”

“i knew it.”

“how?”

“you stare at her. not like how you stare at other people. your expression is fairly neutral, to be fair. but you look slightly peaceful.”

tom makes a soft hum. “then why do you hate her so?"

"i don't"

“you don’t?”

“i wanted to get a reaction out of you, you golem of a man.” tom hums again.

“goodnight, nott.”

“goodnight, riddle.”

as tom is about to turn out his lamp, theo speaks once more. “don’t break her heart, tom. she’s a nice girl.”

and while tom doesn’t answer, he thinks about how he’d try his hardest to never make those beautiful eyes shine with tears.

[little-wicked10]

My Sultan (Nandor the Relentless x ofc🥵)

While the boys are away, Nadja and Nandor’s human lover have a girls night in of swapping juicy secrets. Nadja reveals to her mortal friend that Nandor gets a hard on when being called “sultan”, the ultimate position of power and dominance for a once great and aspiring Ottoman general. Nadja, and the whole house, will soon realize what Nandor is capable of.

Warnings: SMUT 18+ (EXPLICIT!!! Seriously) and cursing

( // means it cuts to, from, or between interviews, documentary/not documentary footage, and perspective)

——

It was odd that Nadja had not joined the boys on a hunt. She loved the thrill of a good feeding followed by feral lovemaking with her husband. Regardless of the reason behind her staying put, I was happy to have my friend in the house to keep me company. “Come, little one, let us indulge in a, as you humans say, girls night,” she smiled giddily as she led me to the fancy room. It was strange to hear her say it, but I was all for her enthusiasm.

//

“Nandor and I met when he approached me on the street claiming I was some Greek princess or goddess,” I said crossing my legs as I sat across from the camera crew.

“Did you find that strange?” a crewman asks.

I laughed, “Of course I did. I thought he was one of those weird LARPing guys or an Emo kid that never grew out of that phase. His approach was definitely random and odd.”

//

“The night I met my mortal lover, Laszlo had pointed her out as a potential meal. An easy on-the-go snack,” Nandor admitted while seated in an ornate chair in the library, “I approached her to hypnotize her, but instead she bewitched me with her feminine wiles….not my proudest moment as a warrior.”

//

“I thought him mad when my great warrior friend nearly fell to his knees for some woman. A mortal one at that. Then I found it quite funny,” Laszlo complained.

“I myself was not surprised,” Nadja added, “I’ve had a great many mortal lovers in my time. And to be frank, Nandor does not have a good reputation among lady vampires.”

Both husband and wife laugh, clearly remembering the blunders of Nandor’s string of failed attempts at finding a partner.

“Though mortal, I do admire the young lady,” Laszlo adds once through laughing, “She’s got moxie, as the Americans say. And she makes sure the bloody oaf blows out the candles so he won’t burn the fucking house down.”

“Yes, that is a plus,” Nadja chimes in, “Also, I don’t have many ‘girl’ friends. It’s exciting to have another woman to talk to. At least one who understand trying to be in a relationship with an idiot vampire.”

//

Nadja and I had decided to drink. She opted for her stash of wino’s blood while I took advantage of my own bottle of red wine. After each drinking two glasses and feeling a wonderful buzz, we decided to rummage through the boys’ clothes. Laszlo was forever stuck in the Victorian era. “Oh try this one on!” Nadja threw a puffy pirate shirt at me and a scarf with some garish and dark pattern. I giggled and threw the shirt over my clothes before Nadja came to my aid to tie the scarf around my neck.

“Did he steal all this from a homosexual pirate?”

Nadja, with blood alcohol on her breath, laughed as she finished the knot, “A…a homosexual pirate!”

Her laughter made me laugh even more as I gave my best pirate Laszlo impression, “Argh! I’m Laszlo Cravensworth! I’ve come for yer booty!”

Nadja stumbled a bit as she laughed and returned to the closet door way, sipping on her third glass of blood to find her something to scrutinize. She put on ANOTHER of his pirate shirts and a waist coat before we both began acting like pirate Laszlo.

“We should see what Nandor has!” I said as the idea popped into my buzzed brain.

“You are so brilliant, little mortal!” Nadja said as she lightly smacked her head wishing she had thought of it.

We both scurried out to the bedroom of my boyfriend. After another glass for each of us and throwing on Nandor’s strange Persian hats and his fur-lined cloaks, we sat in the fancy room talking about the men whose entire wardrobe we ransacked.

“Ok, ok. What does Laszlo like to be called in bed…or coffin I guess,” I asked very bubbly.

“His highness,” Nadja replied with a regal tone in her voice.

“You’re kidding? His highness?” I giggled as I leaned back against the couch.

“The second I call him that,” she snaps her fingers, “straight at attention.”

We both knew the camera crew was having a hay day with us spilling dirty secrets about our love and sex lives in front of them. I doubt it wasn’t anything the vampires haven’t overshared already. “What about donkey dick, hm?” Nadja asked.

“Besides that he has one?” I smirked and held my hands up to show, exaggeratedly, the size of my man’s dick.

Nadja made a face of disgust before repeating her question, “No, no. Ew. What does Nandor like to be called when making love?”

“I don’t call him anything. Just his name,” I answered truthfully.

Nadja’s face suddenly became very mischievous. Her red lips turned up into a playful smirk making the tips of her fangs appear, “Oh, he hasn’t told you yet?”

I looked at her curiously. She studied my face before gasping and rushing to my side and sitting beside me on the couch. “You must know what I’m about to tell you!” She exclaimed grabbing my shoulders.

I glanced at the camera before looking back to her, “Should I be scared?”

She smirked, “No, but I believe you will thank me once you realize the power this secret has.”

Now I’m interested.

//

The men returned from their hunt expecting to hear their women chatting away or waiting for them naked and willing (at least that’s what they kept hoping for). “I say a good hunt, old sport. You’ve not lost your ways of the warrior,” Laszlo complimented as he took off his hat to give to Guillermo.

“Thank you, Laszlo. You did very well in selecting our prey,” Nandor complimented in return.

After removing his coat and patting the pockets of his waist coat, Laszlo looked around, “Now where is my darling succubus of a wife? That feeding has me in the mood to storm the castle, if you catch my drift, Nandy.”

“I too wish to engage in the sexy times with my love,” Nandor admits.

Both men call out to their women with no answer. They both sniff the air and begin to follow the smell of wine and blood. Their noses lead them to the Fancy Room and Laszlo pulls back the curtain to reveal a funny sight. Both women are dressed in a strange assortment of each of their clothings and spooning, Nadja obviously being the big spoon, on the couch using one of Nandor’s cloaks as a blanket.

“I say, old chap, I have no fucking clue what happened here, but I’m slightly aroused by it,” Laszlo admits.

“Why are they wearing our clothes?” Nandor asks.

//

“What’s sex like with Nandor?” a producer asks.

I sigh and think a moment, “Sex with Nandor is wonderful. A lot better than with a human man. We’ve yet to have rough sex just, as he and everyone in this house says, make love. But that might change after what Nadja told me last night.”

//

“My darling human loves our lovemaking. I’ve yet to not satisfy her,” Nandor brags, “And I am very satisfied with her as well.”

“She said that you’ve not had rough sex yet. Why’s that?” producer asks.

“I don’t think my little human is interested in such things. Plus my vampire strength could kill her if I am not careful,” Nandor admits, “so there is that.”

//

I had it planned perfectly. Nadja and I had talked about it at length until we passed out.

I sat in the library with Laszlo and Nadja. Nandor and Guillermo were about to return from going to the store, and I could feel the butterflies in my stomach. I’m not ashamed of my sex life with Nandor. In this house, it wasn’t hard to get familiar with the vampires and their sexual proclivities. Nadja and Laszlo certainly weren’t quiet about any of it.

The front door opened then closed, and I could hear Nandor and Guillermo talking. I glanced over at Nadja who gave me a knowing look and I adjusted the black silk robe I wore. Not uncommon for me to wear around the house since Nandor could be insatiable at times. If I’m being honest, Nadja looked just as excited as I felt. “Good evening, everyone. My darling,” Nandor greeted leaning down and kissing my head.

“Laszlo, I picked up new ascot for you since I accidentally used your other one as a napkin,” Nandor apologized handing Laszlo a little black box.

“I’m going to my crypt to watch Guillermo reorganize my closet,” Nandor gave Nadja a sideways glance before turning to retreat down the hall.

I jumped up to sit on my knees and lean against the back of the couch before calling to him, “Should I join you, my sultan?”

Nandor froze in his tracks. Laszlo choked on his pipe. I smirked playfully at Nandor’s back, “Or will you not be need my services tonight?”

I heard Nadja giggle with delight as Laszlo continued to choke, “S-Sultan?” Nandor slowly turned around and the look on his face was strange, intense. He suddenly rushed toward me, his boots echoing on the wood floor. When he stood before me, he made me look up at him with a finger under my chin, “What did you say?”

“Oh shit,” Laszlo said before Nadja shushed him. I could feel both of them staring at us intensely.

“Will you not be needing my services tonight, my sultan?” I batted my eyelashes innocently with a smirk still on my lips.

Laszlo whispered, “Why the fuck does she keep calling him that?”

Nandor barred his fangs a bit, “Crypt. Now.”

I guess he decided I wasn’t going to be fast enough because he had me thrown over his shoulder. I shrieked and laughed as my warrior carried me off. “Do not disturb us for we will be engaging in sexy times,” Nandor shouted. He slammed the door of his crypt shut and locked it before tossing me on his couch layered with furs. I watched as he threw off his over coat. His red and gold tunic just made him look all the more powerful for some reason.

“Where did you learn to call me that?” he asks stepping towards me.

“A woman has her ways,” I began untying the belt of my robe, “Does it not please you, my sultan?”

Nandor growled and rolled his neck at the name, “You have no idea how much it does.”

I opened my robe to reveal my naked body to him, rubbing my thighs together, “Show me. Take what you want then, great warrior.”

Nandor pounced on me like a beast. He held my neck firmly in one hand and claimed my lips in a bruising kiss, pinning me beneath him. His hips shoved against mine making me gasp and roll mine for friction. He bit my bottom lip and I felt his fang puncture it and cause the taste of blood to fill both our mouths. Nandor groaned and he pulled away, sitting up enough to rip my robe to shreds as he licked my blood from his lips, “Your Sultan wants to taste more than blood tonight, my desert flower.” He leant down and trailed his lips along my jaw, down my neck, towards my chest, letting his fangs graze the swell of my breasts and making me shiver. The heat was rising and twisting in my body from watching him change so quickly and give into something more dominant. It felt like I was going to explode with anticipation.

I grasped the arm of the couch above my head with both hands and prepared as he reached the apex of my thighs, spreading my legs roughly and digging his strong fingers into my thighs. “I will have my fill of you, and you will not push me away,” he ordered.

“Yes, my sultan,” the smirk forming on my lips changed into an ‘o’ as he devoured my cunt. I felt his tongue enter me and his nose press into my swollen clit. “Na-Nandor!” I cried which spurred him to fuck me with his mouth even more. I rolled my hips into his mouth and held the arm of the couch with one hand while the other tangled into his hair. Nandor moved his mouth to suck on my clit and shoved two thick fingers inside me and curled them. I keened and arched my back off the couch, grasping his head with both hands.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Nandor!” These words were like a song and the only ones my mind could form.

I was sped towards the edge so quickly that I crashed over the edge before I knew it, my whole body shaking. Nandor didn’t stop as he replaced his fingers with his tongue and threw my legs over his shoulders. My obscene cries and moans increased as I pushed on his shoulders to slow down but that only resulted in him taking my hands and pinning them to my sides. Tears pricked my eyes as I was at the mercy of his overstimulating, delicious torture. I held on to his hands for dear life as the feeling of his tongue fucking me and his fangs slightly grazing against me became too much, “T-too m-much! Nandor!”

His only response was to growl and reach up and pinch my clit between his fingers. Something snapped inside me and my vision went black around the edges.

//

There was suddenly a loud scream full of ecstasy echoing from Nandor’s room. Laszlo didn’t even look up from his book, “Well done, old chap.”

//

It felt like the aftershocks of having electricity running through my body. I trembled with a wonderful euphoric feeling as Nandor released me to collapse back onto the couch so he could crawl up my body. When I opened my eyes, I saw Nandor’s handsome face completely soaked. “We are not finished yet, my mortal concubine,” he smirks, lust having blown his pupils.

“Yes,” I gasped, “Yes, sultan.”

“Let your sultan conquer every part of you,” he growled, and before I knew it, he was completely undressed, cold body against mine.

He threw my legs around his waist and pinned my hands to the couch arm before spearing me with his cock. I cried and moaned as he stretched me. Nandor fucked me at a brutal pace that had my eyes rolling to the back of my head and my toes curling.

//

Laszlo and Nadja were both huddled by Nandor’s door. After that last orgasm, neither could resist trying to see what was going on. Nadja had her ear pressed to the door while Laszlo was kneeled down trying to look through the peephole. “I’m so proud of our little human. Very much being the seductress I knew she was,” Nadja smiled.

“I’ll be honest, I never thought Nandor could fuck like that,” Laszlo admitted, “Why hasn’t he fucked us like that in our orgies?”

“My darling, there’s ‘orgy’ sex and then there’s ‘making love to your love’ sex,” Nadja explained.

Both husband and wife were jolted away from the door when two bodies slammed against the other side of it.

//

Nandor had thrown my legs over his shoulders and was fucking me into the door. His mouth was only an inch from mine, breathing each others air while ravishing one another like we will die tomorrow. The door creaked every time he thrust into me and all I could do was hold on to his neck as he took what he wanted. “The whole house will know who rules over this body,” Nandor grunted, “Tell me who does.”

“Y-you do! Y-ou! Fuck you feel so good in-inside me!” I panted like a bitch in heat.

“Your sweet cunt keeps pulling me back in,” Nandor growled before he moved my legs to wrap around his waist and sunk his fangs into my neck.

I moaned and gripped his black hair tightly as an overwhelming feeling of euphoria spread throughout my body. This was the first time he had ever fed on me while fucking, and I now know why Nadja went on and on about it last night. It felt like the pleasure was in my veins and effecting every single sense. It felt so intimate and raw. I couldn’t describe it with the right words if I wanted to.

Before I could blink, we had moved off the door and back on the couch. I was bent over the arm with Nandor’s chest pressed to my back and his hips thrusting deep and hard as he licked away the blood around the puncture wounds. He jerked my head back by my hair so his mouth was near to my ear, “You’re blood drives me mad, my dearest. Just as my cock does you.” His other hand snaked around to grip tightly on one of my breasts, tweaking my nipple and slapping the sensitive flesh. I could only moan as my answer. It truly felt like I was being conquered by a warrior, and I loved being at his mercy.

Every time I tried to speak, it came out as gibberish mixed with moans and whines. My mind was fuzzy and only focused on the feeling of his cock pushing me closer and closer to another orgasm. Nandor pushed my shoulders down to the couch with the hand in my hair allowing him to thrust directly into my g-spot. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I screamed his praises as I felt a gushing explosion around his cock. He shoved himself as deep as he could inside me and released his seed with a mighty roar as my vision blacked out.

Nandor fell on top of me, his forehead resting against my temple. All was silent except for his feral panting and my quiet whimpers. I felt his fingers untangle from my hair and his hands wonder along my convulsing body in an attempt to bring me back to reality. “Sssh, my darling,” he whispered in my ear as he left gentle kisses along my face and neck. I suddenly felt the weight of his body begin to leave mine and his cock being removed from inside me. I whined desperately and grabbed his neck to keep him from disappearing. I could still feel him throbbing inside me and my body wasn’t ready to feel empty just yet. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, worry laced in his words. I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, my love. I was too rough with you. And I did not ask permissions to feed on you,” he chided himself. My man had returned from being a conquering sultan.

“N-no. No, Nandor. J-just need a m-moment. P-please d-don’t leave,” I managed to stutter.

Nandor seemed to understand, and he began to delicately change our position. I felt him move us to be laying on our sides with my back to his chest, never once disconnecting us. He wrapped his arms around me and comforted me until my body stopped shaking. “I must leave your insides before you arouse me for another round of sexy times,” he whispered. I nodded my head, whimpering as I felt him gently slip out of me and a rush of our releases spilled out with an obscene sound.

“Was it as satisfactory for you as it was me?” he asked.

“More than satisfactory, my love,” I smiled as I took his hand to kiss the back of it.

“Mm good because I will be ready to go again in a few minutes,” he admitted.

“Really?” I asked shocked, “Nandor, I need to recoup for a minute.”

Suddenly, I felt him harden against my back as he gripped me tighter, “I still have more conquering to do.”

[joshfuckingkiszka]

『two: uncovered』

so sorry about the delay tbh I thought I posted this my bad yall mwah - ALSO I've made a playlist on Spotify (APPLE MUSIC SUPREMACY) for this series as well as sthh and end up here and will be making more (ignore the order of the songs from 7 and up because I'm still putting them in order)

THIS SERIES IS 18+ MINORS DNI

chapter warnings: ANGST, idiots in love, alcohol

from the playlist: gold rush - taylor swift / i hate myself for loving you - joan jett and the blackhearts

series masterlist

✮

It was hard to sleep, now that you knew what Josh’s mouth felt like. He still tasted like the numerous Salty Dogs he’d consumed at the bar, the recent hit of a fruity vape still on his lips. You tossed and turned in your bed, panicking about the next morning. He wouldn’t remember, he was too drunk. 

When the sun rose, you were already awake. Well, with barely two hours under your belt - and that’s being generous. The coffee you made burnt your tongue, but the frugality you’d possessed since high school made it hard to justify paying for caffeine. 

Josh didn’t wake for another three hours, which was a lot of time to think. Overthink. When he did, he made a quip about the cold coffee and the sweatshirt you wore. It was his, just like the shirt underneath it, stolen during a camping trip from sophomore year of college. 

This was supposed to have been a girls’ trip. You, Ronnie, and the two other girls who completed the four person dorm suite: Kehlani and Olive. 

Kehlani was confident and damn persistent, and it had scared you a little at first, but nothing in your suite ever went unfixed by maintenance. Her olive skin tone only got darker and glowier the longer she spent outside, and she did that quite a bit. The balcony was accustomed with the prettiest flowers you had ever seen, thanks to her and her green thumb. Fittingly, she was a Botany Major, who spent long hours at the library and ever longer ones at local greenhouses.

Olive was quiet, but even an idiot could see the crush she had on Jake. You learned - in bits and pieces - that she was an incredible artist, who had mastered realism, in your opinion. She was a psychology major, with hopes to go to medical school and become a psychologist. When the semester first started, she never spent more than five minutes outside of her room. Two months in, and it was like the four of you had always known each other. 

Back to the facts. Girls trip. Supposed to be.��

“Where exactly can we get alcohol where they won’t I.D. us?” Ronnie asked, her head on the armrest of the couch, feet in your lap.

“Well,” Kehlani started, “I would say that place on Fifth, but they got busted last week. Lost their license. Truly sad.”

“College town, Ron, we’re not getting anything without a fake,” you told her. She rolled her eyes, she knew you were right.

Olive piped up, “Ronnie, what about your brother? One of the twins? They’re 21.” Everyone knew she meant Jake. 

“Jake wouldn’t get us anything without a hefty price.” The Kiszka girl huffed. 

You contemplated. “Josh would do it for free.”

“Yeah for you.” She poked your ribs, and you giggled. “But the second he finds out it’s for me too, he’ll back out.”

“What if we invited them?” Kehlani suggested, and Olive’s eyes lit up. You’re not sure yours didn’t do the same. 

Ronnie groaned and protested for three days. 

“What if this is an alcohol free trip?” She attempted to pawn this idea. 

“The beginning of summer. At a lake house. Without alcohol. Do you hear how insane you sound right now, Veronica?” Kehlani’s hands were firmly gripping the brunette’s shoulders and her eyes bore deep and seriously into Ronnie’s. 

She rolled her eyes. “Inviting them will ruin the sanctity of a girl’s trip!” No one bought it. 

“Ronnie’s inviting you on our girl’s trip.” Josh’s hands stilled in your hair for only a second, his attention finally deviating from the Kubrick film. 

He scoffed. “What’s the catch?” Josh always was much smarter than he let on. 

“Alcohol. Purchasing. For the group.”

His eyes met yours. “Let me guess, she told you to butter me up tonight.” His tone was playful, but you knew he was being serious.

“No,” you rolled your eyes, grinning, “I’m not even supposed to be telling you. It’s supposed to be a ‘random act of kindness by your sweet little sister’.”

The two of you laughed. 

“Well, I’m not going without my other half.” 

“Oh, don’t worry I’ll be there.” He laughed and tickled your sides. 

“Jake won’t be happy I’m being invited.”

“Who do you think she’s asking on the trip right now?” 

Finally, his fingers were back in your hair and both sets of eyes on the screen. The movie didn’t have your attention anymore, though. 

“I take it the bar was fun last night,” you quipped. 

His brows raised in agreement, “I would say I’m never drinking again, but we both know that’s a lie.” 

Josh was quiet for a moment, “I didn’t…say anything weird did I?” 

You thought back to his lips on yours. 

“No more than usual.” 

“Good.” 

He was holding something back. Was he worried he spilled something he shouldn’t have? A band announcement? A girl? Your breath caught in your throat for a second and you passed it off as a cough. 

“What would you have said?”

He shrugged, but he knew. 

“I’ve got a surprise for you tonight,” he mentioned casually. 

On a call a few weeks ago, Josh had practically begged you to come out with him and the guys tonight. You agreed, because you missed them, and because going out just wasn’t the same without them. 

“Should I be concerned?” You elbowed him gently. Asking was stupid, because you already were. 

“I’m not sure,” he said earnestly, “I don’t think so. But the guys - nevermind.” 

Now you were really concerned. You left, making up some excuse about getting ready (even though it was about five hours until the guys would be over). 

Whatever he was telling you tonight, gave you a bad gut feeling. You sincerely hoped you were wrong. Regardless, you trudged through getting ready. You took a long “everything” shower - as you’d heard it regarded on Tiktok (Josh made fun of you for watching them, but you would always catch him quoting ones he thought were funny). You were on autopilot as you did your makeup, it was what you had seen as the “rockstar girlfriend” look - ironic, huh? 

A black mini skirt was layered with tights donning little hearts and a lacy black bra could be seen under a mesh long-sleeved crop top. Black leather boots that came up to your knees was your shoe of choice for the evening, and you knew that anyone else would mistake you for a groupie. Not Josh. Never Josh. To him you would always be his Little Red. 

Once your hair was done - even if that one piece kept falling in your face - you gave yourself a once over in the mirror. You looked hot. It had never mattered to you what a man thought so why, all of a sudden, did you care so much about what Josh had to say about your outfit? 

You thought back to Tara, had she been right? Were you falling in love with Josh? Or had those feelings always been there. 

“I swear to god, one more Shakespeare play and I’m-” 

“If you do it, I do it. I’m serious, too.” 

Ronnie had needed an extra elective because of an error her advisor had made, and you needed a class to fill a time slot you didn’t want empty. Romeo and Juliet had been so good your freshman year, so what harm would a Shakespearean Literature class be? Incredibly harmful. Analyses piled on top of the other and you could barely keep up with what you were supposed to be reading. Ronnie wasn’t having any better luck, so cheating wasn’t even an option. 

Homework should have been the last thing on your mind during Thanksgiving Break, but with the amount of practice Josh was having to do, the distraction seemed inviting. It wasn’t just practice, either, he and the guys had become serious about the band, performing gigs all around Michigan. You had banned them from ever coming back to the college, though, because of the attention Josh - and all of the boys - had received from the female audience. It was fine if you didn’t have to hear about it, right? Right, so no more University of Michigan gigs. Josh laughed, but he never even joked about coming back. 

They had gained quite a bit of popularity, and the last you had heard from Josh, a few labels wanted to talk to them. You refused to hear updates from anyone but the oldest Kiszka, if for nothing more so that you could talk to him. His original love of the theater had been put on the backburner, replaced by Rock n’ Roll, leather pants, and a rat tail you weren’t sure if you loved or hated. Josh loved the music, though, he loved making Jake happy and he bathed in the attention he got from the audience. 

“They’re not that different,” he explained, “The stage is different, but the crowd is all the same: they’re all there for a show.” 

“And you give it to them?” You mused. 

“Absolutely, mama.” There was also that. You assumed he had picked it up from Elvis or The Black Crowes or some other musical inspiration. He used it and your nickname interchangeably, at whim. His language, his looks, even his desires had changed. He was still your Josh though. 

Your reading of Hamlet, or maybe Macbeth, was interrupted by screaming in the lower level of the Kiszka house. You and Ronnie gave confused looks to each other before dashing downstairs. 

As soon as you were off the bottom step, Josh’s arms were around you and his face was buried in your neck as he spun you around. When he set you down, his eyes bore into yours. They were deep mahogany, and they reminded you of smooth satin with the golden flecks as ornate detailing. 

“We have a record deal!” It felt like time stopped. You had hoped for this moment, but you also knew what it meant. 

“That’s incredible, I’m so proud of you - all of you.” Nice save, by the way. You hugged him again, and you savored the smell of his cologne mixed with the faintest smell of the weed he’d smoked the night before. You could feel the tears, and Josh could too as they hit his shirt. 

He grabbed your hand and walked you to the back porch. Everyone still celebrating in the living room barely noticed. 

“What’s wrong, Little Red? Aren’t you happy?” He could read you like a book. His frown broke you a bit

“Yeah, I’m so happy for you.” You hated that you had made him feel like his accomplishment was a negative thing. 

“But?” He pressed. 

“You won’t forget me, right? Promise me you won’t forget me, Joshy.” Tears fell freely now and his arms wrapped tightly around you again. 

“How could I ever forget you? I,” he hesitated, “I love you.” 

In the moment, it made sense. He was comforting his best friend. Josh had always been so open with his feelings and affection that you had never really questioned that night. Now, as you sat on the floor in your bedroom, reeling from the very idea that you might be in love with him, you wondered. Could he have always been in love with you, too? Was this a two way street or were you about to crash and burn? 

You felt dizzy, but you got up and walked to the living room where Josh sat on the couch, his hands clasped together and an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. 

“Josh, I-”

“I have a girlfriend.”

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417 @brokenbellz @gretavanfleas @pyrojoshy @greta-van-chaos @xserenax-13 @hayley1623 @kdarling1 @autumns30 @keighoe @chalametpwk @sammysvanfeet @shawnsthighs @gretavanbitches @sammiejane22 @gretavanbestie @jordierama @alexxavicry @spark-my-nature @rainy-darling @I-am-kaitlyn @musicspeaks

joshy: @prophetofthedune @loofypoofy @gretavangracee

this series: @arnoldperlsteinishot​, @maedesculpaeusoubi​

[cordidy]

Black Out

When Amit finds himself in a rather difficult position he finds friendship where he did not expect it

***

“I'm sorry ! I'm sorry !” “Don't worry Son, Ste Mungos's best healers are on the case, including your uncle, we'll fix you in not time !” “Of course it's just temporary my little star !”

“ Mister Thakkar ?” Amit's snapped back to reality when he heard Professor Weasley's voice calling him. “Excuse me Professor I…” “Do not worry young man” the red haired lady answered, a smile in her voice gently patting his arm. “As I was saying, I brought you someone who could be of help with your current…situation…” her tone was hesitant, like she was afraid of his reaction and testing the water. The pas few days had been quite complicated for Amit who became subject to violent mood swings, his usual cheerful attitude being replaced by either melancholy or straight out anger. Next to her, Amit heard someone sit by his bed in the Hospital Wing. “I'll take it from here Professor Weasley” the unknown visitor said. A calm voice, polite yet firm, with a bit of a posh accent… “Ominis ?” “Hello Amit”

“Careful” Ominis said, putting a gentle hand on Amit's shoulder as a flock of first years dashed before them, giggling and clearly not minding their surroundings. “How did you…” “I heard them, they make more ruckus than a pack of elephants” the Slytherin boy answered with a soft chuckle. “I did not.. “ “You will, don't worry” the young man reassured him, gently squeezing his shoulder, to both comfort and encourage him as he knew how intimidating the situation might be for Amit as he just got discharged from the infirmary . “Let's hurry up, I want a good spot at the Library” Ominis said in a soft tone. “The Library ? What are we going to do there ?” Not that he mind going, Amit loved this place, it's peace and quiet, the smell of old books, the soft melody of quills over parchment but now…what was even the point ? “We're going to read of course” Ominis answered casually like it was the most normal thing in the world

“I wish I was as comfortable with this as you are'' Amit said, clearly frustrated. They've been on Braille for weeks now and he was barely able to read a sentence… He was a Ravenclaw for Merlin's sake, he knew all these books by heart ! Why was this so complicated ?! “I've been reading this my whole life. That's literally how I learned to read, of course I'm comfortable” Ominis reassured him, repositioning Amit's hand on the page. “I can't believe I can't read a fucking children's book ! I'm a fucking idiot ! Besides, why do I even need to learn that ?!” Ominis could hear the mix of frustration and anger in Amit's voice as he slammed the Tales of Beedle the Bard shut. It was not the first time the young man got discouraged and he now knew how to handle it. “Look…” “Don't…” “What ? Use a common expression ? What am I supposed to say then ? Touch ?” “...” Amit could hear the amusement in Ominis's voice and it did not help with his temper right now. “As I said…LOOK, if our role were reversed and you had to teach me how to read, would you let me call myself an idiot ?” “It's not the same…” “Just answer the question” Ominis replied with that same hint of amusement in his voice. How could he be so calm about all of this ? “No…” Amit muttered, refusing to admit his friend had a point. “What was that ? I can't hear you with my blindness” the Gaunt chuckled. Amit rolled his eyes. “I said no !” He answered more frankly. He knew where Ominis was going and this was even more frustrating, using his own techniques against him. After all, the Ravenclaw's patience and cheerfulness had won him a lot of sympathy and praises from the younger students he used to tutor over the years. He could not help but feel bad and guilty, wondering how his pupils were doing without his help… and he could almost hear the blond boy grin next to him…what he would give to kick that smile away… “So, one more time” the blond young man said, grabbing Amit's hand to put it back at the beginning of the page, guiding him over the letters.

“How do you do that ?” “What do you mean ?” Ominis asked, his voice full of genuine curiosity. “I mean that…all of that” The two young men were in the Great Hall, dining. They had spent the day roaming in Hogsmead and were now enjoying some well deserved peace as the place was almost empty. Over the weeks they had become quite close and what was at first forced proximity had turned into real friendship. “The…the struggle and the…the pity…” Amit added in a dark tone. He had heard the people talking in Hogsmead about those poor boys while Ominis was holding his arm, guiding him in the streets, explaining to him how to be really aware of his surroundings since he would not be able to rely on his wand like the blond young man did. “I don't know, I just…do” the Gaunt answered calmly, pouring both of them tea. “I…I just can't do anything ! Even something as simple as pouring tea…” Ominis sighed. He did not like how self depreciating the Ravenclaw was about himself. “It was a one time thing Amit and I told you it was alright, I can take some tea on my pants I'm not made of sugar…” “That's not the problem ! ” Amit abruptly cut him, violently hitting the table in frustration. The Gaunt remained calm, unfazed as he sipped his tea wich frustrated Amit even more as he felt unfair towards his friend. He had been nothing but nice and helpful to him while Amit had spent his time sulking and complaning about his situation. Never once had Ominis told him to stop, if anything, he would spend hours listening to him vent his frustration with that same calm and composed attitude. “I picked something different for our reading session tonight…” “I…I need air…” the Ravenclaw cut him before getting up. Ominis let out a sigh as he listened to his friend leave the Great Hall, following the sound of his cane before hearing the familiar *puff* of the floo flame.

“I knew I would find you here” “Leave me alone…” Sitting atop the astronomy tower, Amit was sulking. He had hoped coming back here would help him feel better but now…the Astronomy tower was nothing more but a painful reminder of his situation now. He knew lashing out at Ominis was not the solution and his guilt was now fighting with his frustration for the first place in his mind. He suddenly felt the weight of a blanket on his shoulder and soon after Ominis's body next to him as the young man sat. “It takes…time Amit…” the Slytherin said calmly. “You will get used to it, I promise” he added, gently patting Amit's arm. “I…I don't want to get used to it…” the Ravenclaw comfessed in a small voice, his head resting on his knees, against his chest. “Why not ?” Ominis could tell they were finally getting somewhere. Over the past weeks they had focused on adaptation and making sure Amit would be able to be independent but they had not taken the time to properly discuss the situation. It was not Ominis's prerogative to engage the topic and his friend had just not been ready to. “Because…” his voice was shaking. “Because ?” Amit could feel the tears run down his cheeks as the idea made its way in his mind. “Because it would mean…accepting it…I…I'm scared…” That's when the dam broke and he started to cry for the first time since the accident. He could feel Ominis's hand on his back, offering comfort while still letting him the space he needed. At first, he had believed his parents when they told him they would find a solution, a cure but as the days turned into weeks the shock and denial started to turn into some form of panic. Why were they so eager for him to learn from Ominis if there was a cure ? Why were the professors making accommodations for him if his condition was temporary ? Why…why was everyone already treating him like a blind person if his sight was supposed to come back ? That's when the harsh truth hit him in the face. There was no cure. There was no “temporary. He…he was blind.

“When did they tell you ?” Amit finally asked after a while, needing the confirmation he was so dreading. “From the start” Ominis gently answered, refusing to lie to him. He still recalled how devastated Amit's parents were when they asked his assistance to help their son adapt to his new condition, begging him to not tell the truth yet. Amit let out a bitter chuckle. He was the last to know…again. He had always been the smart one, praised for how quick and smart he was. He had been blind to the situation… quite literally. “So this is why you insisted that much on Braille…” “You're a Ravenclaw, you birds are book worms, I figured it would make things…easier for you…” Ominis teased him with a shrug “you ok ?” He added more seriously, knowing this realization was probably tought on his friend. “No…but I don't have a choice, do I ?” Amit answered with the same bitter chuckle. It was like bitterness was the only thing he had been able to feel over the past weeks. “No you don't” Ominis answered calmly. There was no trace of pity in his voice, just his calm and understanding usual self, something Amit had grown to really like over time. With a deep sigh, Amit raised his gaze to the stars, only for them to meet darkness. “I can't believe i'll never see them again…” he said with a nostalgic tone. How many hours did he spend here ? Stargazing casually, taking his ability to witness the beauty of the Universe for granted… “I never saw the stars” Ominis said in a small voice and, for the first time, Amit could hear an ounce of…sadness in his friend's voice. “Sebastian tried to describe it to me but…well let's just say he is not…teacher material” he added with a small laugh. “I…I wish I could describe it to you…” “Why don't you try ?” This request took Amit by surprise. He had not expected Ominis to be curious about stars, let alone ask him about. After all, most people he talked about his passion with would ask him to just shut up… Besides…how was he supposed to describe something to someone who…never saw ? After a few minutes of reflection, the young man got up, his hands reaching the Astronomy platform rails as he assessed where he was. He knew this place like the back of his hand and, based on the date… “Get up” he happily said, inviting his friend to join him near the rail. He got behind his friend before taking his hand, pointing it in a direction. “If i'm correct, which I usually am, the moon should be here based on the hour” despite being calm, his voice had that hint of excitement as he guided Ominis's hand. “There, it should be the constellation of the Cancer” he said, drawing the constellation with Ominis's hand to show him “right between the Gemini and the Leo” he added, guiding the Slytherin as he started to share with him his knowledge of the stars and planets over their heads. For the first time in weeks he was…calm.

“I still don't get why they draw it like a crab” Ominis finally let out after Amit tried to explain to him the differences and relations between Astronomy and Astrology. Neither of them really knew how long they had been there but neither of them really cared. “This is one of the biggest mysteries I encountered” the Ravenclaw answered with a genuine laugh, the first ever since the accident. They remained silent for a while, before the Ravenclaw finally whispered a serene“Thank you my friend…” “Amit” “Hum ?”

“Amit” “Amit !”

“Move away Imelda he is waking up !” “Don't give me orders, asshole !” “You two are going to leave my infirmary if you don't calm down immediately !” He knew this voice, he had heard it for a week when he was in the Hospital Wing after the accident… “Amit ? Hey mate, are you ok ?” Painfully Amit opened his eyes, shocked to see Sebastian's face above his. “Nurse Blainey, he is awake !” The young man screamed as he helped Amit sit down. What was happening ? Where ? When ? How ? “I…I can see ?” The young man let out, visibly shocked. “Of course you can see Mister Thakkar, why couldn't you ?” The nurse asked with her usual grumpy tone. “But I…the accident…” “I'm sorry Amit” Imelda quickly appologized “I did not aimed for the bludger to hit you…well yes but you were not supposed to fall from you broom !” “I…I fell from my broom ?” Sebastian and Imelda looked at each other, confused, as the Nurse was checking Amit's tension. “Yeah, you did a pretty big fall…are you sure he is ok Nurse Blainey ?” Sebastian asked, genuinely concerned. It was not the first time a player got hurt during a Quidditch game but the Ravenclaw seemed completely lost, his eyes franctickly moving as he seemed to be seeing the Hospital Wing for the first time. “Yes Mister Sallow, I can guarantee you Mister Thakkar will be fine, he is not my first broom fall, now would you two please leave so he can properly rest ?” As Sebastian and Imelda were about to leave, Amit grabbed the young man's arm. “Hey…how…long was I out ?” He asked, visibly puzzled. “I don't know, a couple of hours…you…you should rest buddy, you really don't look good…” A couple of hours…whaou. He had lived the equivalent of weeks in…a couple of hours…that…that was something. Amit let out a relieved sigh as he layed back down on the bed. It was…what ? A dream ? More like a nightmare come to think of it… He could see. He could see ! “I can see…” he repeated out loud, pinching himself to make sure he was not dreaming again.

While everything was alright physically, Nurse Blainey insisted on keeping him in observation for the night as his mental state was more concerning. The next morning, as he joined the Ravenclaw table, he was welcomed like a celebrity by his house, his fellow eagles treating him like a hero for surviving his fall. While everyone was telling the story of the accident with more or less eccentric details, Amit's eyes were glued to the Slytherin table. There he was, with his pale blue eyes and perfectly styled hair, reading the Daily Prophet, his fingers gracefully glading on the paper. “Will you help me with my Potion assignment please ?” “I have that paper that needs reviewing if you have the time…” “Next Quidditch practice this week end you up ?” Everyone was buzzing around him like a hive around their queen as his classmates were excited to have him back after being scared by his accident. While most people thought Ravenclaws to be rather cold and distant as they were often lost in thoughts, a huge sense of community was uniting them deep down as they worked hard to always reach new heights. “I…I have something to do guys, I'll see you later” he excused himself, walking towards Sebastian and Ominis at the Slytherin table.

“Hey guys…” he said in a shy voice. “Oh hey Amit, the old Blainey finally freed you ?” Sebastian teased his mouth full while Ominis was still reading. The Gaunt was used to Sebastian being the center of the attention as people tended to not feel comfortable around him, especially when he was reading so he continued to read like Amit was not even here. “Yes she did, took a lot of convincing, she wanted to have me be checked up by a healer from Ste Mungos…” he distractedly answered, his attention focused on the blond man “Hi Ominis” The Ominis turned his head in his direction, visibly surprised. “Good morning Amit” he answered in his usual calm voice and Thakkar could feel his heart miss a beat. It was so strange to be here, talking to his…friend ? Could he even call him his friend since their only conversations happened in his imagination as he was rambling ? “How are you doing ?” Amit asked, genuinely curious. He could see the confusion on Ominis's face as Sebastian even stopped eating for the occasion, his eyes moving from one another. “I'm fine how…how…are you ?” The blond man asked, hesitant. This was probably the longest conversation they had in the seven years they had been students at Hogwarts and this whole situation was starting to get really awkward. “I'm fine my friend” Amit answered with a huge smile. This was weird, and cringe but he did not really care honestly. “I was wondering if I could ask you a favor Ominis” “Ask away” the young man answered, visibly suspicious but way too polite to refuse straight away. Next to him, Sebastian was even more puzzled. “Would you teach me Braille ?” Amit asked with a huge smile. Ominis's blind eyes were now full of confusion. “You…you want to learn Braille ?” “That's what I said” “But why ?” “Why not ?” Amit knew his request probably sounded eccentric but he did not really care. “I…I guess I could teach you but it might…” “Take time, I know” Amit cut him, visibly excited at the prospect. “I'm not scared anymore” he added, getting another puzzled look from the Gaunt who was starting to wonder if Amit was making fun of him or if his fall was more serious than expected. “Ahem…alright, meet me in the library after class and we can…ahem…start with the basics” he finally agreed before going back to his newspaper, trying to steady himself after that outlandish exchange. “Nice, I'll meet you there !” Amit answered before going back to his table, a huge smile on his face. “What was that ?” Sebastian asked, visibly lost. “I have no idea” the Gaunt answered, still focused on his article. “Why on earth would he want to learn Braille ?” “He's a Ravenclaw, they are all a little eccentric” Ominis shrugged casually.

[wanderinginksplot]

Clone Trooper Rambles

Short, kinda silly Ramble today! Rambles are a pseudo-diary of everyday life embellished by the presence of imaginary clone troopers.

Warnings: a hostile coworker and some mild embarrassment.

---

Evil Librarian

"Hey! I've never seen you wear glasses before."

I smiled at one of my favorite coworkers, a woman named Jenna. "Yeah, I don't wear them very often, but I wanted something new." 

That was the easiest explanation I could give. Besides, the blue light filters really were helping control my migraines now that I was back at work. 

"They look great!" 

"Thanks!" 

Another coworker snorted and I fought against a grimace. Rick was the problem coworker, the one who always had rude things to say about everyone. “You look like an evil librarian.”

I smiled despite myself. “Specifically an evil librarian?”

“Yeah, you know, the kind that are always shushing people.”

“I think those are just librarians,” I pointed out.

“Well, I think you look great,” Jenna insisted. “Ignore him.”

“Ignore me?” Rick snorted. “Good luck with that.” 

Jenna and I made eye contact and I fought another smile. Rick was hard to ignore, but not for the reasons he thought. I had never thought anyone was universally hated before I had met him. I felt sorry for him at first, but then I realized that he brought the vast majority of his problems on himself by being hostile to everyone else.

“Di’kut,” Fives muttered. “No one asked his opinion.”

“That’s never stopped him in the past,” I reminded silently. 

“Someone needs to show him that his input isn’t wanted,” Echo said, folding his arms over his chest. “I can think of a few ways that would get through.”

For a moment, I lost my concentration and spaced out as I imagined one of the troopers hitting Rick in the face. It was an amusing image and I reluctantly pulled away from it as Jenna changed the subject. 

“I’ve been thinking about how we could start working on the next-”

“Do you ever take a break?” Rick demanded. “You take on more projects than anyone I’ve ever met.”

It wasn’t an incorrect point, unfortunately. Jenna was good at her job - good enough that she was always looking for something else to make it a bit more of a challenge. As a result, she was always juggling about six major projects at a time. I liked to help her out where I could, though there was a limit to it.

“I just like to stay busy,” Jenna explained with a shrug. 

“Well, you should take it easy sometime,” Rick snapped. “The rest of us have to pick up your slack while you run around working on a thousand things that don’t really need to be done. It’s ridiculous, and I don’t know why the managers let you get away-”

“Isn’t there something you want to say?” Echo asked lowly, nodding toward my ranting coworker.

“Hey Rick!” I called, drawing his attention. When his eyes met mine, I lifted a finger to my lips. “Shhh! C’mon, this is a library.”

Just then, one of the managers stepped through a nearby doorway, throwing a bewildered look in my direction. Jenna had dissolved into giggles before the manager turned away, shaking his head as he walked down the hall. I followed her example soon afterward, my cheeks burning with embarrassment even as I chuckled.

But the biggest surprise of all was from Rick, who let out a loud laugh and went back to what he had been working on before. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jenna leaned in with a furious whisper. “What was that? I’ve never heard him laugh before, not unless it was at somebody!”

“To be fair, he may have been laughing at me,” I reminded her. “I did just make an idiot of myself in front of our boss.”

“Nah, I’ve done worse,” Jenna consoled me. 

“And so have you,” Fives pointed out helpfully. 

I groaned in answer and walked away before my boss could come back to ask when this had become a library.

---

Author's Note - Like I said, short and silly! Life has been a little crazy these last few months, and I just realized how long it had been since I posted a Ramble.

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[melit0n]

Madame Genesis

- Oneshot

- OC related work (no pairing: gen.)

- Word count: 6.8k

- Warnings: Descriptions of blood and gore

Notes:

- This is narrated from the perspective of a God of Knowledge; the appearance is left up to the reader asides from a few minor details

- Many names are written in traditional Latin, when they are, they will be written in bold, and then translations and additional details will be added at the bottom of the chapter

It is quiet in The Library. Quieter than usual. Although, not silent; for here even the exhale of a breath can be heard. The familiar rustle of thousands of book pages echoes throughout the endless aisles of The Library, ink forever being sewn into their flaking pages. It is a constant hushed noise that holds a sense of comfort in this place. 

Other than the customary flit of yellowed paper, other noises can be heard. Sometimes, it’s a giggle; one of pure joy and innocent pleasure. Pleasure of a child playing gleefully with their friends. They’ll whirl playfully among the bookcases and dance to music from forgotten empires; even in death so joyful for the life they had been given.

Yet, constantly, the moans and screams of the dead will reverberate through the halls, their pain and agony cooked into the leather books that the souls reside in. Typically, these sounds are unending; anguish stalking through the halls – tied to the Earth –  and groveling at my feet for redemption. Pathetic, in Death’s own words, but understandable. I can do nothing but hold the human remains of their frigid faces in my own unfeeling hands and offer sympathy. When some die they wear a frown, others a smile. But then, then there are those that die with their mouths wide open and screaming in terror, yet, they all end here. 

Here forevermore. 

To distract myself, I gaze bordedly at the ageing tapestries that hang dutifully on the limestone and marble walls. I see these tapestries each waking day, yet I manage to spot a new detail each time I look. Some are torn, ripped apart by anger-ridden claws, swords and spears; hanging onto the brass rods by mere ribbons of fabric. However, others are new; bright with freshly dyed wool. Each tells a different story. I do not care much for any of them, especially the ones that depict me. I do not like being showered with crimson, liquid life, nor being depicted on every battlefield and funeral as if I had caused them myself. 

I am not fond of the Churches, nor the people who crawl to them each early morning and deadly night. They bow down to statues and paintings and pray endlessly for absolution to a God who cares more for their sacrifices than them. 

Naturally, they show the famous stories The Fabulatores tell of; war heroes praised as deities for mass murder, and lovers whom Death and Life decide will never be able to hold one another again. Cruel, in my eyes, but to Death’s; humbling. Death isn’t unfeeling, but with the way they speak of their own stories, they seem to take great entertainment in mortal’s suffering.

I continue to wander forward, peering into darkened corners and listening for anything but the wisp of the dying and dead. Someone will be here today, wandering these halls with a bow, battle-axe, or broadsword; seeking my blood. When they will arrive, Time refuses to say; I suspect it’s in the mood for a fight. I am happy, at least, Death wasn’t the one to greet me with information. 

The spirits that flit past eye me with disdain, even those with joyful smiles printed onto their translucent corpses. From their temperament, I think they know when this mortal will arrive. Maybe he’ll bring an army with him, maybe he’ll try to burn this place to ash and sorrowful dust, maybe he’ll aim to drain my veins of golden ichor, maybe he’ll seek information in exchange for his soul. I am unsure. 

I think, sometimes, I wait for mortals to harm me. I have hope in their pacifism, but what an idiotic hope it is to pray that humans of all creatures will react to me with sympathy. I wait for the pain, and I receive it with arrows in my back and spears through my ribs. When I do, I feel a certain smugness at being right, for I am always right, but then? Then I just feel pain. And I wallow in it.  

Too many thoughts today. I find a need to distract myself, and my eyes find themselves dawdling on the many bookshelves.

Considerately, my clawed hands graze through a shelf, feeling each dip in the spines of the books. I am gentle, as gentle as I can be with the ageing books, and close my eyes as the soft scraping soothes me. Yet, my hands catch on the raised bands of one, and my eyes slowly open in mild annoyance. The spine reads ‘Isaac Ryder’ in shining gold leaf, bright against the blood red of the leather. Pulling it out of its designated space, a space it must not have left for decades, a cloud of thick, yellow dust –almost like the mustard gas spread in the plague-ridden streets of Aqua Regia- rises into the cool air. The pages are yellowed, as to be expected with most books here. It is old and will soon fall to pieces; the dust lingering in The Library forever. 

Not a single soul will remember ‘Isaac Ryder’ soon. No one but me.

It is a thought that lingers when I carefully open the book. It is short, barely containing more than twenty pages with nothing decorating them but scribbled drawings. What a short life, I muse, eying the chicken scratch drawings with mild amusement. Yet, a thought appears. 

A child. This was but a child. 

I am hesitant now, as I flick to the end of this young one’s short life. There is nothing but a measly five words sitting in the middle of the page; the sun is bright here. I contemplate its meaning for a moment, just a moment, when the scent of ash and smoke creeps into my frigid lungs and I feel myself choke on the warm embers. 

A deep sadness settles in my chest along with the ash, and the sound of burning wood temps, dares me to look up from the ending page. Bravely, my eyes wander upward, and I am met with a cradle. It is carefully carved with what could have only been the adoration of a new-found father. I can almost see the splinters stuck just underneath his skin as he carves. The loving details are lost to the flame that holds it tightly, rocking it back and forth as if to calm the screaming child that lies choking on smoke inside it. It echoes, as all agony does, yet nobody but myself hears it. 

I slam the book shut. Shut it with a sad sense of grief for the life that ended much too quickly. I come to the conclusion that although Death is not unfeeling nor cruel, but they are most definitely senseless when it comes to premature passing. 

Turning, I place the book back on the shelf and make a symbol with my fingers across my chest; rest in peace. 

Someone is looking at me. I worry for a moment that this mortal has arrived, without my knowing, but, turning, I find a spirit waiting, fidgeting, behind me; wide eyes and all. It stares at me unblinkingly. Its hands tremble ever so slightly as it reaches for my own. Confusion settles quietly in my stomach along with sorrow, yet, I allow it to hold my hands.

Its hands are cold. Colder than mine. 

Tender palms leech the little warmth from my own and I’m sure the spirit itself doesn’t understand it’s actions. I see my hands through its blue-tinged fingers, and, if I wished, I could engulf both their hands in one of mine. 

Maybe crush their wrists. 

Gently, it lifts my hands near its cold face and whispers to me. Whispers words I don’t understand, words I wish to understand, words I should understand. It feels as if a strange, garbled muffle keeps me from understanding them properly. Yet, before I can question their child-like actions, it quickly let’s go of my hands and flits softly behind one of the bookcases. 

I stand still in the aisle, and everything seems to still with me. Calmly, I bring my hands near to my face. They’re steady and unmoving; my fingers do not tremor with life nor do my palms shake with each pulse of a heartbeat. I call them hands, but they look closer to claws; malnourished, blackened skin hung tightly to bones to form them. Even in death, mortals hold onto their humanity; living and dying as a perfect image of Milia Susurros. There is salt on my tongue as I think this. Perfect image. 

However, before I can dwell on my thoughts, the suffocating stillness and silence elevates itself from The Library; interrupted by the sudden collective whisper of the spirits. I watch as many of them, almost excitedly, flit by the passage I stand in and head towards what must be the mortal. 

Huffing out a tired sigh, I begin to follow the spirits, peering into each corner as I stalk the halls. I keep one eye on the darkened corners, other eye on the upper layer’s rails, while the other eye follows the scarlet trail of spirits.

Eventually, I find the man, yet, he is not what I was expecting. He is clad in simple leather, for he must know the rustle of chainmail is never best for when one wishes to be silent, along with an iron breastplate and forearm cuffs. They shine in the low light of The Library, only covered by his woven cape and hood, yet still beacon-like in this place of death and dying. A longbow rests, tense, in his arm; arrow nocked and seconds from being fired. 

Mortals call the bow to be the weapon of cowards. Cowards who fight from a distance; afraid of the glint of their enemy’s sword. Maybe this man is a coward of a fighter, or maybe just a farmer not too fond of foxes. Too many maybes. 

He whispers questions to the spirits as they stare at him from afar with awe and sorrow; for it is not usual for a creature with a beating heart to wander into this place, let alone leave it with blood still pumping in its veins.

He has not brought an army with him, nor a torch to burn this place to ash and sorrowful dust, and he certainly doesn’t look the type to seek holy information in exchange for his soul. 

For the second time today, I am confused. I know when someone is here other than myself. I always know. I know when a Fabulatores decides to prance through my marble palisade and I know when a mortal seeking absolution arrives in my halls. Yet this man is unknown. I did not see his woven cloak in the back of my mind’s eye, nor the bow nocked in his calloused hands. Too many unknowns. For all I know, should know and don’t know; I wonder if Death holds an audience with me today, skulking in the shadows of the carefully carved pillars and eyeing my body with amusement. 

I continue walking forward, to a point where I am but an arm's reach from the man. His eyes dedicate themselves to focusing on the gaggle of spirits eyeing him curiously, talking in quiet, comforting tones; as if he’s trying to calm a wild deer or a scared child. He wants information. 

As I stand just behind his turned back, I wait a moment; I hesitate. The tip of my claws grazes the hilt of the dagger tucked in the belt of my robes, and I tap on the pommel in contemplation. My claws slowly wrap around the leather-swaddled hilt and grasp the dagger firmly. Yet, a memory reaches my mind; a conversation with Death itself. 

"You let them run. Run around your little maze as they lose their mind and call out to you for mercy, yet, you still can’t simply pierce their heart and grant them death. That is what makes you good.” 

Good…that, that is what makes me good? The definition of it is that which is morally right; righteousness. Good is the doctors who heal the broken’s wounds. Good are the farmers who provide food for the poor. I am not good. 

I cannot kill in mercy like the other Dii Minores; hesitate to give death to those who deserve it. My fatal flaw seems to be my lingering sympathy, from where it developed, I am unsure. I cannot fight, even if the adrenaline flows through my soul, I cannot. When met with the slash of a broadsword, I dodge and don’t dare to swing back. In my sympathy, I drive mortals to a maddening death in which they pray for a mercy I can’t bring myself to grant. 

Mortals say it is cowardice to stab a man when he is not looking anyways. 

My claw eases and, now, simply rests on the pommel of the dagger. I stare at this martyr of a man; older than most who arrive here. Most seeking my blood are young and reckless; losing their life here, and for what? Knowledge? To better themselves? What do they expect but death at the hands of Milia Susurros’ Dii Minores? 

His age is shown through the grey strands that loop their way through his bark-brown hair, and the wrinkles that rest by his eyes. Maybe…40, in human years. His build is as steady as an old oak, with arms shaped by hauling weapons and legs by running through bush after his prize. A ‘hero’ of some sorts. An old one, but a hero, nonetheless. 

I open my jaws for but a moment to say something, yet, shut them as I whirl quickly around the corner of a bookcase as he turns with speed, pointing the nocked bow at where I had once stood. He does not call out like most do. There is no idiotic and echoing call of ‘Who goes there?’, nor does he fire his arrow out of fear. He knows what lies in these halls, the creature that haunts each page. 

He stalks, fox-like, through the bookcases, checking each corner before he enters an aisle. I mirror his actions. He does not hear the breath I never exhale, nor the pulse of my frigid veins filling with adrenaline. 

I may not kill, but the hunt always interests me. 

After many minutes of waiting, watching and following, I notice, while staying completely observant of his surroundings, he is searching through the names in the books of the dead. So that’s it; he’s looking for a lost loved one. I have no doubt in my mind he was searching the spirit’s faces for one familiar to him.

I hope he is humbled. I hope it comes to mind the fact he is glimpsing thousands of lifetimes and glossing over them as if they are mere footnotes in a textbook. He enters my domain and prowls like a fox in a chicken coop, walks on these tiles as if he owns them, as if he carved each one. Even with all this watching, I cannot catch a glimpse of his face; hidden by his woven cloak and hood.

My claws, yet again, graze the dagger on my hip and stays lifted millimetres above it. They do not tremble, but they do contemplate. Again. He stands, again, unknowing in front of me. 

I must do it. 

But he has caused no harm to me, he is nothing but a subtle annoyance; a small rock in my shoe. Bearable. 

If I don’t, he’ll end up like the others. Tears soaking into the cold stone as they wither to dust. 

A scowl forms on my face. I am not fond of how this mortal makes me think. 

Be quick, end him with a slash to his neck. It will cause him no pain. 

.

.

.

.

. 

. 

Who would I be to murder an innocent man? A coward. As much of a coward as a bowman. My hand leaves the blade and a sigh escapes my mouth. 

Pathetic. 

I do not wish to fight nor maim, so, I speak. 

“What do you seek, mortal? An ale to cure sickness? A lost loved one? Immortality?” I accuse him. He has not nocked another arrow and stands, tense, in the silence. I let out a laugh.

“You’re an unwise creature.” The salt of annoyance still lingers on my tongue, I cannot help but degrade him. 

He shakes his head back and forth, and I watch as his eyes fill with a blaze. The type of blaze that wrecks havoc on forests; unstoppable and bright. In the sky inked over in black, his glaring eyes burn brightly with all the fury of an inferno. 

"How dare you,” He places his bow on his back, string crossing over his chest and wood resting just out of my eyesight. “How dare you use her voice.”

There is the deepest sense of anger in his tone as he charges forward with a broadsword I did not see. I am surprised; I judged this man as a coward, yet I find myself wrong when I dodge each strategic strike of his sword. I am never wrong. 

I do not like this man. 

He strikes through the stagnant air with such vigour I can almost feel my eternal bones breaking under the force. When he makes the realisation I have but nothing to defend myself, he stops and screams; 

“You cretin of Hell!” There is no reason in this man. There is nothing but pure, in every sense of the word, unadulterated rage. The forest fire burns on. 

With each swift, cutting movement of his sword, he gets much too close to where my heart resides in its cage of bones for my liking, and I swiftly take out my dagger and swipe out against his sword. He scoffs, he knows this is an unfair fight, but he is determined to win. 

I balance his slashes with my smaller blade, watching as sparks seem to fly as the blades collide. Each spark seems to be mirrored in his wrathful eyes. Maybe he will burn this place to ash and sorrowful dust, if even with nothing but his eyes.

I do not get tired, nor do I lose my breath (for how am I to lose a breath that never existed?), but there is an odd feeling in my stomach. It isn’t anger, sorrow, or peacefulness. It is as if his sword has already pierced my stomach and is twisting the blade in my innards. Maybe this is fear. I have never felt this before. I do not like this. 

I do not like this man. I do not like the way he makes me think. I do not like the way he makes me feel. I think he is more than a small stone in my shoe. 

I catch his sword with my hand, gripping it just in front of my face. The cold blade digs into my darkened skin with the force of his forearms.

Maybe I will bleed today. 

"What-” I wince slightly as he attempts to tug the sword out of my claws, but I hold him there firmly. If I am to die today, if Death watches my form with amusement from the shadows, I wish to know what caused the eternal flame in this man’s eyes. “-What have I done.” I realise it is more of a statement than a question. It has been a while since I have talked to mortals and needed my own information out of them. 

He tugs again at his sword, lungs inhaling and exhaling air quickly. I realise I am giving his raging soul a rest he did not know he needed. Maybe the adrenaline will evaporate from his veins. Maybe I will not die today. 

"Open your jaws and speak, mortal. Or I’ll rip them open for you.” I growl out. I sound less God and more hungry animal. 

"You know what you have done, Scientia," He calls me by my Holy name. The name they use in the Churches. “You are knowledge, after all, are you not? You are residue of thought, the silence on sacred shores and the stillness before a battle. Do not pretend to be sanctimonious.” He mocks, quoting one of The Fabulatores’ fables. Those eyes seething with a lifetime of pure anger look into me, rip past layers of muscle and bone, and leave me bare as a new-born babe. I wonder if this is even a fraction of the burn Issac felt. He looks at me with nothing but hatred, and under the heat of his glare, I feel as if I have brought death to whomever he seeks. 

He makes me feel as if I truly am at fault. 

He laughs sarcastically, mocking smile turning into a scowl at an instant; “You murdered her. Ripped her into ribbons of flesh all because she took one of your stupid leather books.”

By ‘stupid leather book’ I conclude he must be speaking of Life and Death’s books; Immortality and Resurrection. They’re what most come here for. However, what I find odd is that I have no memory of anyone, let alone a human woman, succeeding to steal one of Life and Death’s books. I am the God of Knowledge for a reason, and that is certainly something I would remember. The martyr is not only a coward, I surmise, but a liar. 

“Liar.” It is a childish response, nonetheless.

He looks at me incredulously. The fire burns close to my fingertips. 

"I am known as Scientia for a reason, mortal; such a mission as successfully stealing one of Life or Death’s books would hold a golden pedestal in my eternal mind.”

“You are truly as the fables say,” He speaks slowly now, as if to try and calm the annoyance he himself feels bubbling in my hollow chest, “an unfeeling creature hiding in its lair; a Deathbringer of the most ludicrous kind.” 

Nevermind.

I move my jaws to speak, but, he interrupts me.

"Have you no heart?” 

I have to contemplate my answer before responding in the same cold, slow, mocking tone. 

“The drum that beats in my chest is nothing more than a reminder that I am killable. Immortal, yes, but killable. It does not pump liquid life through my frigid veins; it simply waits to be pierced. Milia Susurros’ creations are holy and pure, a sin above all else to deface them, but War forgive if they don’t have a drop of similarity to Milia Susurros’ perfect creations.”

“Then I’ll certainly make you bleed. I’ll enjoy the golden ichor on my hands.” He snarls. He bears his canines and I can almost sense the animalistic urge to dig his teeth into my carotid. He wants me to bleed. Bleed out like a lamb to slaughter. 

“I may be heartless, martyr, but you are naive.”

"I may be naive in your eyes, but I’ll certainly take a pound of your flesh before you take a piece of my soul.”

Abruptly, fuled by anger, he tugs the sword from my grip, and I am surprised I do not bleed. With the way he glances expectantly to my palm, he is as well. 

Quickly, he begins his stabbing and swiping motions, slightly sloppier than before but still holding the same amount of strategic skill in each swipe. I am back to stepping backwards decisively as he comes centimetres away from tearing my skin. 

He fights well, but I am displeased. Annoyed. Perhaps even bored of his claims. I am built on sympathy and pacifism, but I am done trying to convince someone so utterly blind with anger and grief. 

“How dare you act as if you do not remember! Act as if she never existed!”

I gain the confidence the grab onto his sword again. I feel it pinch against my inky skin as I mimic his heavy breathing. Mortals do it when they are angry; I think they think it makes them look bigger.

"Remember.” I growl. How ignorant. “You are asking if I remember? I remember every drop of blood spilt-” 

I fully tug the sword from his hands, holding tightly onto the blade as I shove my dagger back into its placeholder. I have surprised him.

"-Every blooming flower-” I feel the strain in my vocal cords as I talk louder. I flip the sword in my claws as to hold it by the hilt. He realises the danger and I hope he silently curses his obvious idiocy in his head. 

“-And every mortal there is and ever will be.” I punctuate each syllable with a footstep forward. He mirrors my actions; a careful step back for each inhuman one I take forward. “You call me coward and cretin, and by the West winds I know what mortals see me as, what I am; the mouth of a wolf with the eyes of a lamb. But, for Paradises’ sake, do not doubt a God, creature.”

I snarl and bare my own teeth, sharpened by aeons of arguments and evangelical pain.

I do not notice the stars that still burn to black holes in his eyes; I believe I have subdued him. 

I am not good, and I truly know this when I realise I will find pleasure in his tortured cries as he withers away. Withers away and becomes a part of the dust like Isaac Ryder. 

“You are angry, mortal, and that is plain to see. But no amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of whomever you lost.”

It is quiet now. He heaves breaths like a dying man.

"Wander, child,” I let the broadsword rest at my side, the tip of the blade hovering just above the carefully carved marble like branches to a river, “seek your friend, lover, or sister and pray.”

I turn slowly and walk along the aisle, walk as if I am floating, yet my feet feel heavier than usual. The odd feeling is gone from my stomach and I feel oddly numb. The heavy stillness rests around me again, and I feel my brain go oddly blank. The library feels like a meat freezer, the type butchers prize themselves in, and I dangle in it like cold cuts. The spirit’s cold, pale eyes watch the interaction intently.

I seem to forget the martyr is not only a liar, but a coward as well. 

And by the cold winds of the North, it is a horrible mistake. 

It hits in between my shoulder blade and the tender muscle and stays there. By Milia Susurros, it is a terrible pain. It is a sharp, piercing type of pain that penetrates deep in my muscle. It is a type of pain I haven’t felt in a while. My shoulder is pushed forward in hurt as my claws immediately reach up to put pressure on it, to ease any of the aching throbbing. I can feel as my muscles convulse around the arrowhead and a noise of agony escapes my mouth. I feel the ichor of life seep into my robes and trail down my skin like sweat. 

I am sure it's a symphony to the martyr. 

When I pull my claw back from the wound, I am horrified at what I see. Blood. Crimson blood, crimson liquid life painted, like the old tapestries, on my blackened claws. It should not be like that. Mortals bleed this colour, mortals bleed in red. 

Yet here I am, bleeding a pool of scarlet. I wip my head around to glare at the mortal, to bear by teeth, to growl like a rabid animal for how he has defaced me. The unwise, coward of a creature seems just as surprised as I am to see me bleed in red, bleed like a human. The inferno still burns, but there is…pity there, now.

Stop looking at me like that, with pity in your darkened eyes. What do you see in me? Tragedy? 

Stop it. 

Stop looking at me like that. 

Do you hear me?

"That is for Aelia."

A jolt of pain runs from my core and it is excruciating, my vision flashes bold reds and quiet whites. I have been struck by arrows before, I am sure arrowheads are still stuck inbetween my bones, but at that name my whole being seems to tremble. 

He takes a step forward. He nocks his arrow again as I hunch like wounded animal. He shoots another arrow, this time in between my ribs. More pain. Endless pain. I am struck to the floor. I feel, no, I am, pathetic. 

Is this what it feels like to be mortal? To be a perfect creation? 

“I hope you feel even a fraction of the pain Aelia felt when you ripped her to shreds.” Another flash of reds and whites, and as I look forward into the endless aisles of The library, into the eyes of all the spirits, I see something. 

A hound, although, not like those that Death keeps, sits happily in the middle of the aisles. It rests next to a large satchel, a carefully sharpened axe resting against it. I can almost feel the rough leather of the handle in my claws, hear the chink of the metal as I sharpen it. The canine barks loudly, yet only I seem to hear it, and bounds forward to my crumpled form, followed by a young woman calling the name ‘Duke’ happily. They disappear in a blink. I glance quickly behind me to check his hands for an open book, but he holds nothing but his Hell damning bow.

“I hope you feel the pain she felt when you left her to nothing but chunks of flesh. When you sat there in her home staring at me in the dark covered in her blood.” His voice cracks in what is either sorrow or unyielding anger at the end of his sentence. 

More flashes of colours, and I think I am having what humans call an epiphany. I feel the odd pain of blunt nails crawling and scratching just underneath my withered skin. It feels like there are hands under it trying to rip their way out. 

Standing behind me, he whispers, “I hope you go to Hell for what you did, Scientia.” 

Taking the broadsword from next to me, he raises it upwards, he aims for my heart. I cannot tell if fear digs deep in my chest, or if that is just the pain of the arrows. I want to move, I want to run, run away and hide from possible death like I always do, but I cannot bring myself to move. I feel painfully human with all this fear.

“What gives you the right?” 

He pauses. He hesitates. 

"What gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?”

He has no answer. I remember a name. His name. The flashing reds and quiet whites mould into kind chestnuts and calming greens.

I...I see him.

I see him, I see this martyr sitting next to me, and he talks to me as if I am a friend; as if he has known me all his life.

“Don’t you know you the pain you sow is pain you reap, Brutus?"

It fits him. Fits him and all his raging anger. 

He pauses, and, obviously, he is slightly surprised by the fact I am not mocking him, instead, using a name I had shown to not even had known. Yet, my eternal existence of Knowledge gives me the under-hand. Even so, I continue. 

“Brutus of Mallowkeep, son… son of Fabricus. Hunter of the Leviathan and friend of King Paulinuis the III.” I speak, almost desperately. The name is a sin I breathe like Oxygen.

“You do nothing to save yourself by calling my titles, Knowledge.” Says he. I find small peace that he is still idiotic enough to engage in conversation to buy me time to find an excuse, no matter my pain and odd visions.

“My name is Brutus, and my name means heavy; so with a heavy heart I’ll guide this sword into the heart of my enemy.” He encourages himself, as the tip of the sword reaches closer to my aching chest. However, words slowly conjure themselves in my mind as he continues on with his angered matra.

“Know my actions are motivated by my grief and agony. Agony you caused her. I too have a destiny, and your death will be art. My people will speak of this day from near and afar; this event will be history, written in the same damning leather book as Aelia. You’ll rot in endless suffering for your sins, Excetra." He accentuates each final word in his sentences, almost sounding poetic.  

I open my jaws again to rebuttal, but a phrase comes to mind. As well as a memory, a voice. My own voice, but…less eternal. I speak with less sanctification in my mind than I do now. I speak with mortal words with ideas so simple-minded that I wonder if it is a memory of a child. 

“Golden child, lion boy, when the West winds bring you home, tell me what it’s like to conquer.” It is simple, as I have said, but it is something. It is not a moment of a mortal’s words coming to mind, but my own.

My own, simple voice with scarlet blood, peachy skin, soft hands and a heart. A heart that beats and pumps blood through warm, thumping veins that protrude out of my skin on my hands. I see it. I see myself. I see humanity. 

And I think Brutus sees it too. I think Brutus sees, with dilated pupils and a face shimmering with sweat, the soul he is searching for. I think he sees that soul in the curve of my jaw, in the pallid of my skin, in the eyes that float in and out of existence. 

“Fearless child, gracious girl, when you spear the heart of the divine serpent, tell me what it is like to burn.” He mutters out. He has to contemplate what he has said for a moment before he staggers backwards.

Scared, he shakes his head back and forth in disbelief, broad sword slipping out of his hands and clattering onto the marble of the floor. The sound echoes loudly in The Library of endless longing. The Library haunted by a human playing God.

He steps back from me, fear holding place on his face. He mumbles a mantra of ‘no’s as saline solution builds steadily in his eyes. 

I do not like this man. I do not like the way he makes me think. I do not like the way he makes me feel. I do not like the things he has brought to my eternal existence. 

For what am I but a God? What am I but the ruler of this black-lit paradise? What am I but Knowledge in its purest form? Who am I but a bad omen that haunts the unknown crevices of humanity’s minds?

There is a sense of impurity that digs a hole in my soul and moulds a place for itself in my hollow body. I am the apple of Milia Susurros’ eye; a creation of utmost holiness. Yet as I stand here with my human heart, I feel insufficient.

I am Milia Susurros’ adjutant, I hold the knowledge, thoughts and feelings of empires to come and long past. I am a God; a thing of utmost glory and holiness. My vessel is meant to be a sacred note, sung between the flesh and hope of philosophers. I am creation, both haunted and holy, but made in glory. Yet, I seem to be a defiant act of the rule of creation. I am a whole solar system placed in a mortal body. 

It comes in the form of a revelation that I was…am, human. Do I have friends? Do I have a family? Do I have a lover? Do I have friends, friends like the hunters who arrive in Spring laughing and jovial, who carefully choose their prey, and send the animals off painlessly and with a prayer? Do I have family, family like those who traverse each winter to and from the mountains in search of food, who ride their steeds with care and laugh at each other's jokes? Do I have a lover, lovers like the man who sits by the wise Maple tree through all the seasons by the flat, armorial, well-kept headstone and plays tunes of love and better places? 

There is human under this pallid skin. The sympathy and pacifism placed in my veins holds a place of reason. 

Carefully, I look up at Brutus, look into his glassy eyes and watch intently as tears slip down his cheeks. The fire is quenched. Sparks and ash fly upwards from time to time, trying to reach the Gods. He is angry, wrathful, still, but not at me. 

We sit adjacent to each other; the same but different. Both cowards, both cretins, both creatures; both humans.

------------

1 - Latin; 'A Thousand Whispers'. This is the main God of this planet. Endlessly large and beyond mortal description. Think of something very eldritch, draped in whites and golds speaking with thousands of voices with an ensemble of whispers following behind it. Its face is constantly changing; it doesn't really hold any true form unless it's appearing (for whatever reason) to mortals. Seeing its Godly form would drive anyone mad from its staggering existence.

2 - Latin; 'Narrators' or 'Storytellers'. Their purpose is in their name; they tell the fables of the world (some true, some made up for the purpose of teaching mortals lessons).

3 - Latin; 'Royal Water'. A King made a deal with the sister Gods Life and Death to save his ill (and dying) son in exchange for his own life. Making a deal with another minor God, the king hid himself from immortal eyes. Unable to reap his soul, angry at the betrayal, the sister Gods sent plagues into the waters of the city. To combat the plagues, a form of mustard gas was spread in the city. Some say, even to this day, the streets still stink of death.

4 - Latin; 'Minor Gods'. Knowledge is as much of a God as Milias Susurros, but they are only fractions of M.S's power. Knowledge is M.S's knowledge; it just needs a vessel to channel that into.

5 - Latin; 'Knowledge'.

6 - Latin; 'Sun'.

7 - Latin; 'heavy' or 'dull'. Chosen for the fact that it fits his character, but also for the fact he is named after Brutus of Rome, the man who stabbed and killed his best friend (which is what almost happens here).

8 - Latin; 'craftsman'. From humble beginnings comes a God killer. 

9 - Latin; 'tiny' or 'puny'. Ironic that a king would be called this, no?

10 - Latin; 'water snake'. This has multiple points. 1: Aelia's killing of the 'divine serpent'. 2: This is the fancy Latin way of calling a woman (what Knowledge is seen as) wicked and malicious, this was basically a massive 'screw you go to hell' to whomever you were speaking about. 3: Capitalisation makes the insult named, which, instead of calling Knowledge wicked as an insult, he's calling her the embodiment of wickedness.

Thank you to anybody who sat down and read this. Again, this isn't fanfic related so I don't expect this to get much traction. But, if you enjoyed it, I'm completely open to constructive criticism as well as compliments (lol) and or questions on any lore if you have any to ask. Thank you for reading, whoever you are <3. 

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Incorrect Quotes - Elise Edition

Some funny incorrect quotes for Elise, made by this generator:

Enjoy!

Elise, after getting a library card: Now I know what true power feels like.

Elise, opening a Capri Sun: Guess I'll drink my sorrows away.

Elise: I scare people a lot because I walk very softly and they don't hear me enter rooms. So when they turn around, I'm just kind of there and their fear fuels me.

Elise: Don't quote me on this, but I believe murder is illegal!

Elise: No problemo! Elise, internally: But it was all problemo.

Elise: I've never encountered a problem that can't be solved by a spontaneous musical number.

Shapeshifter: transforms to look like Elise* Elise: Okay, are you like BLIND? You look nothing like me. First off, I'm way taller. Secondly, I DO NOT look so sleep-deprived and lastly, if you could drag a comb through that hair you're like a 7 on a good day and I've been told I'm a constant 10.

Elise: It's not ugly, just aesthetically challenged.

Elise: "What are you into?" is such a broad question, like do I reply with a TV series or choking?

Elise: A person can really hear themselves think out here. Elise’s mind: Did you leave the stove on? The front door unlocked!? WILL YOU DIE ALONE!? Elise: Well, that was a mistake.

Elise: Plants are basically the ideal friends. They are quiet, friendly, and easy to please. All they need is a little water and fresh earth, and they are perfectly happy to lie there all day in the sun. And they don’t make increasingly awful life choices, or hide their relationships. They have never, as far as I know, fucked a bee.

Elise: War is heck!!

Elise: If the thought of something makes any of you giggle for longer than 15 seconds, you are to assume you’re not allowed to do it.

Elise: I have passed the transitional stage of internet geekhood. Elise: I was cashiering at work today, and was punching in the code for plums, which is 4040, and the 0 key doesn't work this well, so I punched it in wrong. And the machine flashed up "Item Not Found: 404". Elise: And I actually laughed out loud.

Elise: Raisins. It's nature's candy!

Elise: I would never say that my partner is a little bitch and I don’t like them. That’s not true… My partner is a little bitch and I like them so much!

Elise: What, I can’t be in a bad mood? It’s like people think, “Oh, Elise is such a nice person, Elise is so happy-go-lucky! Elise can’t be in a bad mood!” Well, you know what? Elise CAN be in a bad mood. And right now, Elise IS be in a bad mood.

Elise: Just took a personality test and got an A+.

Elise: I love the term 'partners'. Are we dating? Are we robbing a bank? Are we the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies and are members of an elite squad known as the special victims unit? Who knows.

Elise: I keep a picture of all of us in my wallet. Whenever I face difficulties, I take it out and stare at the picture. The Squad: Awwww- Elise: And I tell myself "If I can deal with these idiots, then I can deal with anything." The Squad: Oh.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Plain to See

Pairing: Single DILF elementary school teacher!Steve Rogers x tattoo artist fem!reader

Words: ~6k

Summary: Your gorgeous, clean cut neighbor needs a favor, and how can you possibly say no?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, f receiving oral sex, genital piercings, semi rough sex, light choking, squirting, hair pulling, dirty talk, slight breeding kink), single dad Steve (trust me, he’s a fucking warning), reader has tattoos, adorable toddler, fluff, slowish burn, idiots in love (I can’t stop myself), SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: This was an absolute monster to finish when I had to work all week but it’s done!!! My official entry for @bemine-bucky’s Sweetheart Diner challenge (prompt in bold), and I messed myself up with this one. I am now fully on the DILF Steve train and if you think I’m not gonna write anymore for these adorable lovebirds, you would be mistaken. Love you so much Sav!! You deserve the world!!

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“Ok Sarah, remember, this is our secret, ok?” You handed the giggling toddler one of the still warm cookies, giving her a big grin as she looked at it with wonder. “No telling your dad, and no sharing with Molly.”

She nodded seriously before taking a hesitant bite, squealing when your sweet mutt shoved her head into the child’s lap to try and steal a lick. You scolded the dog and she gave you a forlorn look before moping off to sink into her bed with a huff at being excluded from treat time. The toddler finished her cookie in record time, and after wiping all the melted chocolate off her face while she squirmed, you gave her a dog treat to give to your poor neglected pup. You couldn’t help but grin when Molly took it from the little girl’s hand as gently as possible before wolfing it down, accepting the child’s tight hug around her neck with a happy wag of her tail.

“I love you, Molly.” God, how fucking cute was she, laying on the dog’s side and babbling that excited toddler chatter while kicking her feet. You made sure to take a picture for Steve, he always melted a little when he saw how sweet your dog was with his little girl.

There was a knock at the door and you yelled it was open, turning to give Steve a big smile when he walked into your house looking a little exhausted. His face split into a grin when he got a look at Sarah playing with Molly’s ears, the toddler screaming when she spotted her father and rising to greet him on wobbly legs.

“Daddy!” She shouted with delight when he tossed her into the air and caught her again, settling her on his hip and giving her a soft kiss on the head while she brought her chubby little arms up to give him a hug.

“Hey bug, did you have a nice time with Y/N and Molly?” He chuckled when her fat fingers grabbed at his cheeks.

“We made cookies!” She clapped her hands over her mouth when she realized she blabbed, giving you a horrified look at spilling your secret.

“Well, I guess we have to share with Dad now.” You shook your head and laughed softly as you reached to grab one of the giant cookies that was still left, handing it to Steve and beaming when he took a bite as you worked at boxing up the rest of them. “Don’t worry, hon, you still get to take the rest home.”

“Thank you so much, Y/N, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Apparently on call plumber is part of the art teacher’s job now. Some fifth graders managed to crack one of the toilets and it was a literal… uh… poop show.” He smiled when Sarah laughed hysterically at the naughty word.

“Tsk, language Mr. Rogers.” You winked at him before handing him the container of cookies, ruffling Sarah’s hair affectionately before moving to soak the baking sheets you’d used. “She can come over any time, pretty sure Molly likes her more than me anyways.”

“I may take you up on that, Y/N.” You walked in front of him to open the door since he had his hands full. “Let me make you dinner tomorrow? I gotta thank you somehow.”

“Alright, but only because I can’t say no to your pesto.” You waved back to Sarah when he started walking back to his house, only feeling a little bad about ogling his ass. “Bye kiddo!”

God, that man was fine. And his kid was fucking adorable too. It was like a constant attack on your ovaries ever since he moved in. Your vibrator had never been used as much in your whole fucking life. Goddamn Prince Charming looking DILF.

You weren’t sure how you’d managed to go this whole time without jumping on him. Every time he gave you that gorgeous, aww shucks smile you just wanted to find out if he was hiding some secret kinks under that nice boy exterior. Not to mention when he did yard work and got all sweaty with his sleeves rolled over his forearms. Right now all you wanted was to pour yourself a nice glass of wine and take a long bath while you thought about what he might look like under all those buttoned up, clean cut outfits. Man you were a perv.

The next night couldn’t come fast enough. It took some self control to keep from wearing one of your usual slutty date outfits, choosing a relatively conservative sundress that still showed off your assets. Even though you told yourself a million times you were not going to date your neighbor, you couldn’t help but flirt like an idiot.

“Hi Y/N!” Ugh, he looked so fucking domestic, what was he doing to you? “We’ve been working all afternoon, Sarah really hopes you like her garlic bread.”

“Um, did you know that garlic bread is my absolute favorite?” Sarah hid her face behind her hands and giggled when you winked at her, Steve beaming between the two of you and making your heart swell a little bit. “You better be careful, or I might eat all of it.”

“No!” She seemed adorably horrified at the prospect, tottering away from you when you moved to chase her playfully. “I want bread, too!”

“You better wash up quick then, bug.” He ushered her towards the bathroom, wiping his hands on a towel. His big hands with those thick fingers that you definitely weren’t thinking of sucking on. “She was a little disappointed when I told her Molly wasn’t gonna be joining us.”

“Well, maybe next time.” You handed him the bottle of wine you had brought and helped him set the table, smiling when Sarah wrapped her arms around your leg so you could drag her along with you. “Or maybe I’ll have Molly help me make dinner for you guys. You like dog food, Sarah?”

“Eww, no!” She laughed like you were the funniest thing in the world, squealing when you scooped her up and nibbled on the tip of her nose.

“Oh, it’s so good though!” You gave her a peck on the forehead before helping her settle into her seat, putting her napkin on her lap and helping her cut up her pasta without even thinking. “Maybe even better than your dad’s pasta.”

“Ouch.” Steve laughed, placing a hand on his chest in a mock wounded gesture. “What d’you think, bug? Is my pasta better than dog food?”

“Yes, love pasta!” She slurped some up messily and you laughed while you wiped pesto off her face.

“Alright, you’re the expert.”

The way you engaged with Sarah was so endearing, Steve couldn’t take his eyes off you. She got so happy when you swooned over the garlic bread she almost fell out of her booster seat, but you caught her at the last second and peppered kisses all over her face. You somehow managed to keep her from getting sauce all over herself, having the napkin ready like a pro at all times even when the three of you chatted away about silly toddler things.

Once you had all finished your meal you helped with the cleanup, giving Sarah a hand with drying the dishes while Steve washed them. You managed to sneak a couple splashes at her father when he wasn’t paying attention, Sarah screaming and hiding behind you when he got you back. It should have felt weird as fuck for you to be having such a good time doing the housewife shit, but doing it with Steve and Sarah was just delightful and almost natural.

“Ok bug, let’s wash up and then it’s bed.” Sarah’s eyes were starting to droop, apparently making garlic bread really took it out of you. “Say good night to Y/N.”

“No, want Y/N to tuck me in!” She pouted at the two of you, and how were you supposed to say no to that?

“I dunno, hon, don’t want to take that treat away from your dad.”

“Y/N, you don’t have to.” He was giving you an inquisitive look though, and fuck it, you were having a good time.

“But I want to, Steve.” You relaxed when he did, smiling softly and moving to grab some glasses. “Besides, we still need to break open this wine.”

“Great, let’s get those PJs on, Sar.” He disappeared down the hall with her leaning against his shoulder, her eyes drooping with the pull of sleep even as she fought it.

You finished putting the dishes away while Steve got Sarah ready for bed, coming when she called you to give her a peck on the head and help Steve tuck her in before wishing her goodnight. She fell asleep immediately, allowing you both to sneak out of her room and head back out to the kitchen to have some adult conversation.

“That kid is too cute for her own good.” You poured Steve a hefty portion of wine before filling your own glass. “Don’t know how you don’t just spoil her rotten.”

“Trust me, just because she turns on the charm with you doesn’t mean she isn’t a terror sometimes.” He shook his head before taking a sip of wine. “How’s the shop doing?”

“It’s really good, we just hired a new artist, so hopefully we won’t be booking out as far, but who knows.” You were really hoping you could convince him to come get a piece from you eventually, he always showed a lot of interest in your work, and inking up your sweetheart neighbor would be a special kind of thrill. “You know I’d open up a spot for you anytime you want, though. Just say the word.”

“We’ll see.” He beamed at you when you hopped up to sit on his counter absentmindedly, loving how comfortable the two of you were with each other.

“I’ll convince you one of these days, Rogers.” You leaned back on one hand while you sipped on your wine. “How about you? Aside from shit explosions, how’s the school? You’re kids enjoying watercolors?”

“They love it. Leaves me with a hell of a mess every day but we have a great time.” He moved to pour you another glass when you finished yours, topping his own off as well and settling next to you. “This is good.”

“Yeah. You still have that wedding this weekend?” You could feel your heartbeat speeding up with how close he was, the clean, slightly woodsy scent he was wearing filling your senses.

“Lemme guess, Sar couldn’t stop talking about being a flower girl all afternoon?” He set his empty glass on the counter and brushed his hair out of his eyes with a rueful grin.

“She could not. We had to practice her walk a couple of times, she’s a pro now.” You hopped off the counter and moved to find the wine saver while Steve put the glasses in the dishwasher. “Make sure you take a video of her for me, I’m sure she’s gonna be adorable.”

“I mean, you wanna come with?” He spluttered when you cocked an eyebrow at him. “Sorry, shit, lemme back up. My normal plus one had to cancel and I know it’s so cheesy but I cannot deal with my ex and the rest of my family judging that I haven’t found some sort of mother figure for Sarah.”

“So, I’d be your fake girlfriend?” A little disappointing but you could deal. “Sounds like a blast. How judgey are we talking here? They gonna have issues with you showing up with an inked up chick?”

“Maybe, but what are they gonna do? Make me break up with you?” His smile was tinged with nervousness.

“Well, if it doesn’t bother you, doesn’t bother me.” You gave him a teasing hip bump when you shuffled past him. “How formal is this thing?”

“Cocktail. You sure you’re ok with this?” He was starting to relax a little bit, but he didn’t want you to feel pressured at all.

“Oh my god, Steve, yes, I’m sure.” You gave him a reassuring pat on his tree trunk of an arm, holy shit. “I’ll be the best fake girlfriend ever. Now, I’ve gotta go take care of the dog, but I really had a great time. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I’m sure you will.” He walked you to the door, giving you a semi-awkward side hug before you were strolling back towards your house, and he tried his best to not watch the way your hips were swaying in those heels.

Well, he’d had some spectacularly bad ideas, but asking you on a fake date might be one of the top ones. Ever since the first time his kiddo had seen you working in your garden and shyly asked you whether you did your tattoos yourself or if your friends did them, and then you spent a whole afternoon telling her all about each of your pieces like she was the most important little person you’d ever talked to, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about you. You were beautiful and sweet and Sarah fucking loved you, so why couldn’t he work up the courage to ask you out for real?

Instead he just had to settle for fucking his own fist like a perv while he thought about what you might look like underneath him, how tight you’d squeeze his cock when he hit you deep and what gorgeous noises you’d make for him, and whether you had any more tattoos hiding under those surprisingly sweet little outfits that he hadn’t seen. God, he hated himself sometimes. He wasn’t gonna give himself blue balls though.

He didn’t have a chance to give into his nerves once Saturday hit, mostly because all his energy was focused on getting a wiggling little girl into a fancy dress and keeping her from spilling anything on it. Sarah insisted on walking over to pick you up on her own, practicing her walk as she headed up the walk to the front door until she let him lift her up so she could ring the doorbell.

“Hi Sarah! Look at that dress!” You gave the two of them the biggest grin when you opened the door, locking it behind you and helping her do a little twirl before holding her hand while you all headed towards Steve’s car. “You been practicing your walk?”

She nodded seriously and showed you, laughing when Steve scooped her up and got her settled into her car seat. You winked at Steve when he held your door open for you, climbing into the car and starting a sweet little conversation with the toddler, who was fired up about being a flower girl. He was so grateful you were eager to engage with his girl, but he was having trouble keeping his eyes off the line of your legs in those heels.

As soon as you walked into the venue, his ex was right there, much to his annoyance.

“Hello Sharon.” He gave Sarah a quick peck on the head before letting her toddle over to her mother.

“Steve, hey sweetie!” She knelt down to give the girl a hug, giving you a once over when she stood back up. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Y/N, so nice to meet you.” She ignored your hand when you offered it to her.

“Uh-huh, what happened to Beth?” Cool, always fun to be completely ignored.

“Just didn’t work out.” Steve shrugged uncomfortably at having to jump right into faking it. He relaxed a little when you wrapped an arm around him, leaning into his shoulder like it was the most natural thing and not as horribly awkward as he was worried it was going to be.

“Sure it didn’t.” Sharon handed Sarah off to a bridesmaid and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I’m gonna go find Ian. That Sarah’s bag?”

“Yeah.” He handed it over. “I’ll check in before you leave. She’s looking forward to spending a couple of days with you.”

“Me too. Talk to you later.” She walked off without giving you a second glance.

“Well, she did not like me.” You gave a small huff before grinning at him. “Alright, who else do I need to impress here?”

“Obviously, the cousins.” He motioned to the groom, waving when the man noticed him from the small group he was chatting with. “And other than that, just the nosy aunts and shit.”

“Great, aunts love me.” You winked at him and wound your fingers through his. “Let’s do this.”

The ceremony took up most of the afternoon, and then what felt like hours of photos that poor Sarah put up with like a champ. Steve couldn’t have been more thrilled at bringing you with him, actually able to enjoy himself a little since you were a pro at redirecting all the interrogations that his friends and relatives tried to subject him to. Of course, the fact that part of redirecting them involved you engaging in some public displays of affection did a lot to help his mood.

Right now he was watching you do the chicken dance with Sarah, the grin he was wearing falling slightly when Sharon plopped in the seat next to him with a frown on her face.

“So, that’s Y/N.” He took a sip of his beer when she started in on him, really looking forward to her passive aggressively implying there were all sorts of things wrong with you. “Sarah told me all about her pretty tattoos. Guess I didn’t realize she had quite so many.”

“Seriously, Sharon? You’re gonna harp on some ink?” He scowled at her sideways while he kept his eyes on you and the kiddo. “When did Sar tell you about her, anyway?”

“I have to hear about her every time she spends the night. Fucking your neighbor Steve?” Or, maybe she was going to bypass the passive and go straight to plain old aggression. “What’s that gonna do to Sarah when you break up and she suddenly can’t see her apparently best friend anymore?”

“I’m not having a conversation with you about this. You wanna have more say in who your daughter spends time with, you need to be around more. And maybe actually get to know the people I see instead of jumping down my throat about them right away.” He pasted on a smile when you and Sarah came back to the table. “Hey kid! Those were some killer moves!”

“They sure were, c’mere baby.” Sharon propped Sarah on her lap and gave her a peck on the cheek. “What d’you say we go get you some cake, yeah? Then we’ll get you home.”

She let Sarah give you a big hug goodbye reluctantly, trying not to openly growl when you gave her a kiss right on the top of her head. Sarah said her goodbyes to you and Steve and let her mom carry her off, waving at you over her shoulder until she disappeared into the crowd.

“Lemme guess,” you sat down next to Steve and nudged his calf with the toe of your shoe when you noticed the sour look on his face. “Your ex thinks we should ‘break up’?”

“Yeah, I guess someone talks about you an awful lot.” He couldn’t help but smile when you laughed softly.

“I mean, I am pretty great.” You winked and took a sip of his beer when he offered it. “Think she may have a point, though. You are a lousy date, Rogers.”

“Hey, mean!” He swiped his beer back from you when you tried to take another sip, swatting your arm playfully and pouting a little bit. “What did I do?”

“It’s what you didn’t do, Steve. Who comes to a wedding and doesn’t dance with their date at all?” You were still trying to steal his beer away as he held it out of your reach. “And now you won’t even share your drink? There’s no way I’m putting out now.”

He choked on his beer when you said that, trying to pass it off as a laugh while he looked at you to figure out if you were serious in any way, shape, or form.

“Well, shit, way to ruin my night, Y/N.” He drank the rest of his beer in one gulp and set down the bottle, taking your hand in his and pulling you after him towards the dance floor. “I think we can salvage it, though, c’mon.”

You laughed lightly when he gave you a twirl before pulling you close, pressing his chest to yours and beaming as he took one of your hands in his and wrapped the other around your waist. He sighed deeply when you gazed into his eyes, losing himself a little bit as the two of you swayed back and forth.

“Better?” He could’ve started purring when you ran your arm up his shoulder until you could wind your fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

“Yeah, you’re a good dancer.” You tucked your head into his shoulder and he couldn’t stop himself from smelling your hair.

“You too.” He spun you a little and goddamn it, that breathless giggle was doing things to him. “What d’you think, want me to dip you?”

“What?” He didn’t wait for you to answer before bending the two of you over, chuckling at the thrilled cackle you let out before he was drawing you back up fast. “Ok, maybe you will get lucky.”

The two of you danced through the next few songs until the DJ called that the night was over and it was time to send off the happy couple. You made your way back to the car once they had taken off, Steve holding your door for you again like a fucking peach. The ride home was filled with comfortable silence, your gaze shifting over to Steve occasionally.

“I had a great time, Steve.” You gave him a small smile while he walked you to your front door. “You wanna come in for a drink?”

Oh god, he wanted to. He didn’t think he’d ever really spent time with you when Sarah wasn’t around, and all he wanted was to follow you inside and eat you out until you screamed his name.

“I should really turn in.” He hated himself. “Thank you again, you really are the best.”

“I know.” You smoothed your hand over his chest and gave him a wink before moving to unlock your door. “Don’t worry, I’ll come up with some way for you to show me just how thankful you are.”

You gave him a peck on the cheek before heading inside, sighing when you closed it behind you and giving your dog an exasperated look when she came trotting to greet you. Guess it was gonna be another long night with your vibrator.

There was a pounding on the door and you turned around with a small frown, opening your mouth in surprise when Steve was standing there looking a little strung out.

“Ste…”

He didn’t give you a chance to finish your thought before his lips were on yours, walking you back into the house and slamming the door behind you before his hands were digging into your ass. You wound your fingers through his hair and let him basically manhandle you into your kitchen, trying not to trip over your own feet until he had you pinned against your counter.

“I, mmph, thought of a way to say thank you.” He moaned when you nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Much better than what I would’ve come up with.” You tilted your head back to let him suck a bruise against your throat while he dragged your dress off over your head.

“Jesus Christ.” He groaned when he got a good look at you. He had been right, there was so much more art under your dress. His movements slowed when he moved to draw your panties down your legs, the colorful bouquet of flowers that covered your hips and the insides of your thighs making his cock twitch. “Honey, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“Steve…” he cut you off with his lips again, stealing your breath before he started moving his lips down your torso. “You gonna let me talk at all, Rogers?”

“Not unless you're begging me.” He winked at you before kissing over the jut of your hip, tracing his fingers over your thigh until he could hook them under your knee and hook it over his shoulder.

The way his shoulders were placed between your thighs had you spread wide open for him, a low growl vibrating his chest at the sight of your throbbing cunt filling his vision. He took a breath to appreciate the view, dragging his thumb over the cut of you slowly until it was slippery with your arousal when he swirled it around your clit, making you moan as you arched towards his face.

As soon as he flicked his tongue out to taste you, he was lost, practically whining against you as he lapped up every drop of slick that was leaking out of you before pressing soft kisses over your puffy lips. When his lips met your clit you could have passed out, your whole body arching off the counter as you let out a sharp gasp.

“Oh god, Steve.” Your fingers scrabbled over the countertop when he laved his tongue over your swollen bud, pressing it flat and massaging you slowly until you gave him another one of those beautiful fluttering moans. “God, that’s so fucking good.”

He just hummed in agreement, shaking his head to force his face deeper before he was thrusting his tongue inside you and curling it against your soft walls. You couldn’t take it when he started fucking you with the thick muscle, your hips rolling into his face and your hands reaching down to wind through his hair and keep him close while you wrapped your legs around his neck.

Steve tried to look up at you through his lashes, but the way your back was violently arching was hiding your face from him. At least until he rose to his feet, keeping his arms wrapped around your thighs so your hips came with him and making you yelp at the change in position.

His lips wrapped around your clit and you keened, especially when he moaned into your pussy once he was finally able to watch how fucked out your face looked. Your toes curled as your core started tightening, warmth spreading through your body as you moaned desperately.

“Steve… oh fuck, Steve, I’m gonna come.” Your whole body tensed up before you were vibrating with your release, soaking Steve’s chin and flooding his mouth with the sweet taste of you while you sobbed with pleasure.

He set you down gently before crawling up your body and pressing his lips to yours, sighing deeply when you wrapped your arms around his neck and returned the kiss. You purred when he wrapped you around him and stood up, his tongue still stroking yours while he curled a hand around the back of your head.

“Gotta say Rogers,” you grinned when he released you, licking your lips as he gazed into your eyes. “Took you long enough, but once you move, you move fast.”

“Fuck, I swear I wanted to take my time, but damn.” He was finally starting to catch his breath. “Once I got a taste, I couldn’t stop myself.”

“So you’re telling me if you had your way you’d have buttered me up first?” You sighed when he lifted you and started to carry you towards the bedroom. “What would that be like?”

“Oh, I’m gonna fucking show you.” He kicked the door to your room open and set you on the bed, cupping your cheek gently as he straddled you. “‘Cause you deserve those sweet slow kisses that are gonna have you melting into the bed and begging me to fuck you.”

“That so?” You dipped your hands between the two of you to start undoing his belt.

“Mmhm.” He ran his thumb over your bottom lip and purred when you nipped at it. “I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days.”

“Fuck m…” You couldn’t even be mad when he cut you off again, his tongue dipping between your lips and curling against yours slowly.

You were completely fucked. Time lost all meaning while his lips were on yours, pulling at them gently with his teeth while he gently slid his tongue over yours. When he pulled away you sucked in oxygen you hadn’t even realized you were missing, keeping a hand around the back of his neck so he couldn’t go too far while you panted into his mouth.

“How was that?” His smirk was wicked as he ran his knuckle over the curve of your cheek.

“You’re a dangerous man, Steve Rogers.” Your brain finally reset and you went back to taking his clothes off.

“Oh, honey, you don’t even know.” He got his tie off and tossed it aside before helping you slide his shirt over his shoulders, making your breath hitch when you finally got a look at his bare torso.

“I fucking knew it.” You reached out to trace one of his hidden tattoos with your fingertips, grinning at the groan he gave you when you leaned forward to brush your lips over the large one on his chest. “What else you been hiding from me, Steven?”

“Just a couple things.” He groaned when you dragged your tongue over his nipple, your fingers working quickly to undo his fly. “Nothing too big.”

“Oh, I dunno, it feels pretty big to me.” You grinned when you palmed his cock, dragging his slacks and boxer briefs down his thick thighs. “Oh, Jesus fuck.”

As soon as you set eyes on his cock your brain broke. He was so fucking long and thick you weren’t totally sure it was going to fit, the perfect pretty pink tip begging for you to suck on it. And to top it all off…

“Steve… Steve? Steve, baby.” He was grinning at your babbling as you reached out to brush your fingers over him. “Honey, you’re fucking pierced.”

“Gotta say, this is one of the more pleasant freak outs this thing has caused.” He moaned when you dragged your thumb over the silver ring that ran through his tip.

“Get that thing inside me, now.” You hissed at him through clenched teeth, grabbing the back of his neck and yanking his face to yours as you dragged him on top of you. “I fucking need it.”

“Yeah, pretty girl?” He growled into your mouth when you wrapped your legs around his waist, lining himself up and plucking at your lips with his teeth. “I’ve got you. Ah… shit.”

As soon as he slid inside you he almost collapsed, burying his face in your neck and winding his arms around your shoulders as he slowly eased into you. The stretch was driving you crazy, your pussy already starting to flutter as his piercing rubbed over your slick walls. He gave a small testing thrust and both of you moaned, your bodies molding together as he started rocking his hips into yours.

It only took a few more shoves of his hips before he was sheathed to the hilt, grinding against your clit and groaning at the snug, wet heat of your cunt flexing around him. Your tiny gasp when he started fucking into you made him growl, wanting nothing more than to draw more of those beautiful noises out of you.

“Fuck, Steve.” You rolled your body underneath him when he nudged against your cervix, whining when you felt his lips suck a bruise against your throat. “Oh god, that’s so good.”

“Knew this cunt was gonna be sweet for me, goddamn.” He ran his nose up the side of your neck until he could nibble on your ear, giving a small circle of his hips and making you keen. “C’mon, honey, wanna feel this pretty pussy strangle my cock.”

“That mouth of yours is something else, Steve.” You purred at the feeling of the smooth metal of his piercing gliding over your soft walls at a rough pace, digging your fingers into his shoulders. “Jesus, right there.”

“That’s it, give it to me.” His breathing was getting heavy as he sped up, grunting into your neck with each thrust and grinding against your clit. “God, so fucking tight.”

He barely changed the angle and you lost it, arching off the bed and wailing as you fluttered wildly around him. Aftershocks were still coursing through your system when you collapsed back into the mattress, his cock still punching into you vigorously as he watched you writhing with bliss underneath him.

There was no warning when he pulled out of you suddenly and manhandled you until you were laying on your stomach, making you scream when he thrust back into you with a deep growl. Your breath was forced out of your lungs when he started rutting into you like an animal, hitting you so hard and deep he was pushing the two of you up the bed a few inches at a time with each shove of his hips.

The change in position was so fucking good you were crying, soaking the sheets with your tears and drool as his piercing slid over every spot you needed it to until you were seeing stars. His fingers were drawing bruises on your hips as he pulled you back onto his cock with each punch of his hips, grunting lewdly as he watched your ass bounce each time he slammed into it.

You whimpered when he wrapped a hand in your hair and curled over your back, yanking your head up so he could scrape his teeth over the arch of your cheek while you gave him more of those pretty little moans. His other hand curled loosely around your throat and your eyes rolled back in your head, rolling your ass back into him desperately as he did his best to draw another one out of you.

“You’re doing so good for me, pretty girl.” He flicked his tongue along the corner of your mouth, nuzzling your cheek and purring when you clenched around him. “Gimme one more, gorgeous. Then I’m gonna a make a fucking mess of that perfect cunt.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” You moaned at the filthy promise, arching your back until his chest was pressed right against your back. “Steve, please.”

“You want it, sweetheart?” He nipped at the curve of your jaw and ground into you. “Don’t worry, gonna fill you up and fuck it into you so hard, I’m gonna be dripping out of you for the next week.”

All you could do was scream when you felt the ring his that deep spot that made your toes curl, your release gushing out of you and soaking him while trying to find something to grab into as your whole body shook with pleasure. Your pussy clamped around him so hard he couldn’t move anymore, muttering a soft fuck into your neck as his spilled his cum deep inside you.

Steve collapsed on top of you when he was spent, curling his body around yours and nuzzling into your hair while you both worked at catching your breath. You turned your head so you could peek at him over your shoulder, smiling softly when he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and rolled until he was spooning you.

“Shit, Steve.” He was still inside you as he brushed his lips over the curve of your neck and sank into your mattress. “If this is how you end a fake date, what are you gonna do when you take me out for real?”

[gumilac]

parings. inumaki toge x gn reader

genre. gamer and modern au, meet-cute, fluff

warnings. swearings, small trash-talking

aki's notes. i tried playing valorant once and i screamed during the match and found it scary TT-TT ill stick to genshin thanks + also iumaki's been on my mind for a while >:( get him out pls

"you're playing... valorant?"

inumaki's head turns to you, though his eyes linger on his screen for a second before mauve eyes finally look at you. he's surprised, but his fingers still click on the keyboard.

"i am, yeah," he says, "you gonna sit?"

jumping a little, you set your notebooks down, sliding in the seat next to him, "oh! uhm, yeah. if you do not mind."

he gives you a small smile and hums, eyes returning back to his game. having not seem this person on campus — at least, you don't think so — you can't help but act on your curiosity.

"in the library, you play valorant?"

he softly laughs, and from what you assume — since big red words appear on his screen that says "headshot" — he has gained a point. you have your fair share of knowledge on the game to know what it means.

"i do," he meets your eyes once again, "do you play?"

and, almost immediately you jerk back, shaking your head, waving your hand in dismissal at his question.

"oh, no," you laugh and he finds himself liking it, something he'd like to hear more often. adorable, he thinks. "no, no i don't."

"i've tried it once," you pause, "twice. both with my friend."

his eyes stay on you, match long forgotten, his teammates flaming him on the chat box. but, he does not mind.

"how was it?" he asks, and from his screen, as you take a peek, his character falls. softly snickering, you avert your eyes back to his.

"scary," you say matter-of-factly, and soft giggles leave him as he looks away, biting his lips. "but, i did enjoy, only for a while. i don't think i'd find myself playing it often like experts."

his match starts again, and for a moment, you'd think he'll focus on the game now. he walks a bit, gains a point, and looks at you again.

"that's– valid," he laughs, "it is kinda scary."

watching his screen — and, since you've tried the game once — you know the person coming up to him is an enemy. he hasn't noticed inumaki, so you thought to give him a heads-up.

"yo-you're gonna die—"

just as you point your finger, he dies almost simultaneously. he jumps in his seat and moves his mouse. though what he presses, you do not know.

"oh, shit," he mutters and laughs, mostly to himself. he's wearing headphones, and from it, you can hear... voices? his teammates probably.

"you're shit," one says.

"even a kid plays better than you."

"focus on the damn game, idiot."

observing him from where you sit, he seems unbothered by the mean comments. mauve eyes looking at the screen, clicking his keys mindlessly, his concentration long gone. you've taken his attention now. a big red banner appears. defeat, it says, and he sighs deeply.

"finally," he stretches his arms over his head and removes his headphones. he can finally give his undivided attention to you — though he could do it earlier, and he did. if it were not for the obnoxious comments.

he notices your notebooks, and he rests one arm on the table, the other on the back of his chair. suddenly, you sheepishly smile at him. muttering a small apology.

he tilts his head in confusion, furrowing his brows, "what for?"

"for your game? and teammates? i kept talking to you so–," you pause, biting your lip, "you lost."

he slowly nods his head and flashes you a grin. too deadly, you think. inumaki runs a hand through his silver locks, messing it up a bit in the process but does not bother to fix it.

"you heard them?"

nodding your head, you look down, "your volume was quite loud."

his shoes suddenly more interesting than his face. he grabs his bottle of water and takes a sip, gently nudging your knee closest to him with his. making you look up. he closes the bottle and places it back on the table.

"it's fine," he clicks buttons, tabs on his screen, and his valorant screen disappears. showing his desktop on full display. a drawing of cat beside a plate of onigiri is his wallpaper.

cute, you think. it fits him.

shrugging, his mauve eyes meet yours for the seventh time during this whole interaction, "not like it matters to me anyway. winning, i mean."

"but, are you not hurt?"

"nope," he says nonchalantly, fingers absent-mindlessly playing with the pages of your notebook. he grins, rather smugly and says, "i know i'm great. i can play better than them."

laughing at his statement, you playfully roll your eyes. your smile, he thinks. is so goddamn pretty. and, he finds himself wanting to be the cause of it. wanting to see it more often.

"okay, wow," after calming down, you shake your head. glad to hear he isn't hurt, but you don't bother to say that.

"plus," he adds, shrugging once again. faux pride so high, even birds can't reach it, radiates off him. "i have a life."

"they'd cry if they heard that," you giggle and nod in agreement. his laughter mixes in with yours and he says, "well, they shouldn't have started it."

a minute of silence envelops you both as your laughter dies down, and inumaki smiles as he looks at you. admiring you from where he sits. a thought pops onto his head and opens it to you.

"would you like to try?"

"try what?" you ask, tilting your head.

he nods his head at his laptop, and you get the message before he even says his offer. you wave your hands in dismissal, soft huffs leaving you.

"oh, no. i'll scream."

he shrugs, "that's fine."

you look at him, confused, a smile on your face — does he not see where you two are at the moment? does his surroundings not sink in with him?

"at the... library. i will scream," you say slowly, hopping it settles in him, "how is that fine? a place where silence is the epitome of it."

"ah," he finally realizes, "well, then if you get kicked out. we go together."

slapping a hand on your forehead, you gaze up at him through your lashes. his mauve eyes seem to make your resolve waver. make you actually consider his offer. ridiculous.

sitting up straight, biting your cheek, you squint your eyes up at him, "together," you pause. "we go together, okay?"

with your answer, he knows. he gives you a guile smile, "together."

and, he opens up his game once again. you look around the room, you're at the far-end of the place. far from the terrifying gaze of the librarian. this is your chosen spot after all. well, was. seems like you'll be sharing it with someone from now on. though you do not mind.

"okay, put it on," he hands you his headset and scoots his chair closer to yours. one arm rests behind your seat and his knees almost cage you in.

match found, it says on his screen and flashbacks from when you played in your friend's dorm come flooding back to you. the nerves finding their way under your skin once again just like that night and you mutter.

"i'm so scared," you nervously laugh and his arm resting on your seat squeezes your shoulder. almost coach-like. "you've got this. we go together, right?"

you pick a character and he looks at you impressed — because apparently who you chose was quite strong, but you don't quite get why. they just looked nice, it was a process of elimination.

the game starts and he guides you through, also made sure he muted the microphones of your teammates before you started. he says terms like "blind", "mid", "dink," but they all sound like gibberish to you.

pressing the keys, moving the mouse, looking at the map, aiming your cross-hair correctly, all seems too complicated for you. too much for your eye-and-hand coordination.

inumaki's voice is low, calm, and reassuring as he tells you what to do. suddenly, an enemy appears behind you and he whisper-shouts. you scream, moving the camera to look behind you, and you unsuccessfully try to fire your gun at the person. he quietly laughs and hangs his head low, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

burying your face in your hands, you laugh with him, covering your mouth to at least muffle the sounds. though it seems unnecessary, since slow clacks of shoes approach you, getting louder as they near. someone clears their throat, which is not you nor inumaki. looking up, you press your lips together. despite the fear creep up, you contain your laughter, pushing them down as you swallow hard.

"we'll get going," you meekly say, to which inumaki hums, unable to control the soft giggles leaving him. hanging his head low as he fixes his stuff, he puffs up his cheeks and bites back a smile. the librarian steps aside, a disapproving scowl on his face.

you get up first and inumaki follows suit, head still hung low and hands clasped together at the front. shuffling your way past the librarian, inumaki mutters a small apology. though, they both know it's half-assed. once the door is of reach, he opens it for you.

and, inumaki surprises you as he grabs your hand and runs. the action faster than a pencil dropping off a table before you could even catch it. laughter slip past you both as you run through halls, corridors, stairs, and you hear professors scolding you both.

"stop running in the halls!!"

but, you don't. he continues to guide you through corners, down flights of stairs, and finally out to the open field. he collapses under a big tree, and your legs give out beside him, breathless laughter leaving you both. he catches his breath and rests a hand under his head.

"that was exhilarating," he says, and you bite your bottom lip, nodding. he turns his head to face you, only to see that you're already looking at him. he stares at your face for a moment and, he thinks. that he'd like to look at you for as long as you'd allow him to. it seems to him that he likes admiring your face.

inumaki squints his eyes, and suddenly it hits him. he does not know you. yet here you both were, lying on the fields of your university. he suddenly lays on his side and props his head up with his hand, "sorry, but did i get your name?"

"no, i don't think so," you pause, "i don't think you've given yours either."

he smiles and puts his free hand out, "inumaki toge, it's a pleasure to meet you."

giggling, you take his hand in yours, shaking it gently as you introduce yourself, "pleasure's all mine to be your accomplice."

he throws his head back and laughs, biting back a big smile that wants to place itself on his features, but fails miserably.

"we probably won't be allowed in the library for a while," you sigh, resting your hands on your stomach. "we're still wanted for screaming and running down the halls."

"but, at least we did it together, no?"

"yeah, we did."

he mimics your position and turns his head to face you. a knowing smile places itself on his face and suddenly, he rolls over to his stomach. his arms slightly touching your shoulders. he nudges you, and you open one eye, already knowing what's brewing on his mind, despite only meeting him.

"do you... perhaps," he pauses and sways a little, "want to play again?"

rolling over on your stomach, you bump his shoulders playfully, a cunning grin on your face, "do you even have to ask?"

he smiles and grabs his bag, pulls out his laptop and the set-up is the same — except for he fact you're outdoors and you can scream all you want.

as you play once more, inumaki looks at you, adoration in his mauve eyes. he's pretty sure that if he was playing right now, with you. he'd lose, always. since he'll be watching you instead of his screen.

and with this, just like in his game, as you look up at him with a big smile because you managed to gain a point and you manged to clutch the match — though oblivious to his own feelings.

inumaki's shot through the heart.

[amjustagirl]

castles in the air: chapter 10 

chapters: one.// two.// three.// four.// five.// six.// seven.// eight.// nine.// ten.// 

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f! reader  genre: romantic comedy, fluff, angst  wc: 4.8k 

Dating Kuroo Tetsuro is a dream come true. 

You’ve had your romantic fantasies about him, certainly. The messy haired star of your girlish imaginings, your handsome knight in shining armour - but somehow it’s the human side of him that you appreciate the most. Of course it’s wonderful that he’s got a charming smirk and imposing presence that makes you lose all coherent thought in your (usually steady) head, but it’s the dorky, funny, playful side of him that you cherish the most. 

“Why’re you even dating me”, you grumble, when you’re having a particularly rough day at school and feel like a mess - greasy hair, eye bags, warts and all, and he’s looking effortlessly put-together, despite being put through the grinder like you. 

“Why do I love thee? Let me count the ways - “ 

“You got the quote wrong, please stop trying to lift pick up lines from Akaashi, you torture him enough for that -” 

“Cos you’re cute, princess - “ 

“Liar - and you’re an asshole if that’s all you’re dating me for - ”

“My heart burns like a mole of suns for you - “

“I take it back, I think I prefer your cheesy literary puns -” 

You get kicked out of the library for the first time in your life because Kuroo’s bark of laughter is far too loud to ignore. He’s an idiot, but he’s your idiot, so you give up and host study sessions at your place instead. ‘

Yua certainly approves of him. 

She grins when he stays over one night after a project meeting that goes on for too long, cheerfully leaving a packet of condoms and a note that she’ll be sleeping with earplugs that night on the dining table. Kuroo turns fire-engine red and does not meet your eyes. 

“Yua!” you hiss, shoving her package back at her. “Keep it for Meian, I don’t need it!”

“I bought a jumbo pack and was worried about using them all before the expiry date, y’know - cos Shugo is in Osaka and I'm sooo lonely - “ 

“Gods, woman if this is a ploy to distract me into taking them, this is not working.”

“I saved so much on shipping costs you might as well have some!” 

You end up keeping the lot, even though Kuroo and you can hardly look at each other for the rest of the night, awkwardly keeping to your respective corner of your very narrow single bed. Yua doesn’t let up in the morning either. She pouts at you until you agree to fry pancakes for her, and takes the opportunity while Kuroo is showering to ask if she should threaten him should he do you any harm. 

"I'm perfectly capable of cutting his balls off myself. Yua. Plus you're about as scary as a kitten, so I don't think you'd be of much help."

"True", she taps her chin thoughtfully. Then she brightens up. "I could send Shugo after him!" 

"Oh my god, Yua, you can't sic your boyfriend on my boyfriend", you say, horrified. "That's not how this works, he's not even my dad -" not that your mild mannered dad would ever exhibit any protective, bloody thirsty behavior towards any of your suitors anyway, but that's besides the point. 

"Why not?" Yua asks innocently. You know her well enough that she's actually serious about it. 

"I mean you don't deserve to have your heart broken! You're good and funny and you make the best pancakes -" 

"This is definitely a ploy to keep getting pancakes out of me -" 

She giggles. "Well, yes but I want him to know that he's lucky to have you and should throw himself out of a window if he hurts you in anyway -" 

"You're surprisingly violent, does Shuugo know what he's getting himself into -" 

Arms circle your waist. "I'd throw myself out of the window if I broke her heart, you don't need to exert yourself."

You whirl around to poke Kuroo on the nose, frowning. "Stop eavesdropping -" 

He only laughs, booping your nose with his own. "The bathroom walls are thin, yknow." Then he glances at Yua, who's gleefully watching the pair of you. "Message received loud and clear", he says to her. "I know I'm lucky to have her." 

"I'm glad to hear it", she chirps. "Now, we should all go on a double date! Maybe a fall picnic, when Shugo is in Tokyo - that'd be super romantic, maybe Shugo will finally propose to me then -" 

You just sigh and roll your eyes at her antics, dishing out pancakes to feed both your hungry roommate and boyfriend. You regret ever feeding them when they get along like a house on fire, trading stories back and forth about you. 

Meeting the Nekoma team (again) is a goldmine for you, as meeting Yua was for Kuroo. 

But before that, you’re not surprised that Kuroo asks you if you’d like to meet Kenma for coffee and apple pie at a small cafe they both frequent every Saturday afternoon before spending the rest of the day holed up in one of their bedrooms, Kuroo studying or reading his manga, Kenma playing or streaming games. You've heard so much about him, and despite Kuroo describing him as a gremlin-slash-cat in human form, the warmth in his voice when he talks about him tells you he’s very important to your boyfriend. 

On first impression, he’s very different from your own boyfriend. In fact, the quiet, mild mannered boy reminds you a little of another dark haired boy with watchful eyes of your acquaintance. 

"We meet once a month for coffee", he replies when you ask if he too knows Akaashi. 

Kuroo chokes on his cappuccino, the milk froth shooting straight up his nose. Kenma bangs on his back with gusto. "Is that how you've been gossiping about me? I didn't even know you guys talked outside of camps! What else have you been keeping from me? I swear - you're like one of those cats who cheat on their family with another just to get extra food -" 

You and Kenma share an exasperated look as Kuroo complains about being left out of their setter friendship. 

“You were busy with Bokuto and Tsukkishima - ”

“Never too busy for you - “

“Says you -” 

“Wait a minute - Akaashi was playing with us, how could he have been chatting with you?!”

“Maybe you were playing with a clone.”

You sit back comfortably, watching them bicker back and forth. Now you see that Kuroo’s propensity for childish banter was cultivated by his best friend. It swiftly devolves into a scuffle when Kuroo reaches over to ruffle Kenma’s hair to emphasise a point, and Kenma retaliates with a move quicker than he looks capable off, swatting Kuroo away with a used napkin. 

“Gross!” 

“You started it.” 

You can’t help but laugh, the two boys turning to you - your boyfriend looking sheepish, Kenma impassive. “I’m not asking for much”, you say. “Merely that we don’t get kicked out of yet another public space for unruly behaviour.” 

“Didn’t you stab Kuroo with a fork when you first met him”, Kenma calmly notes. “The team laughed about that by the way.”

“ - he deserved it”, you chuckle, as Kuroo folds his arms, pretending his best to look upset. 

“She’s violently overprotective when it comes to her food - and oi! You weren’t supposed to tell the rest that! Yaku crowed for weeks!”

“Well deserved, indeed.”

You and Kenma glance at each other and smile. Kuroo stares at you both and frowns. “Oh no”, he cries, hand to heart. You and Kenma share exasperated looks at the antics of this over-dramatic fool. 

“What”, you say in unison. 

Kuroo’s face falls further. “You two getting along so well is a nightmare. You’re gonna plot and suffocate me in my sleep -” 

“He snores by the way”, Kenma says, nodding sympathetically. “I’m sorry about that.” 

“I know”, you acknowledge his nod with a tilt of your head. “It’s too late for me, I’m afraid.” 

“The two of you are just evil, I swear - ” 

The rest of the team give him even less respect but just as much affectionate teasing when you’re introduced to them. Of course, it doesn’t help that your idiot boyfriend forgot that he had a scheduled call with them, answering the video call absentmindedly when he was busy kissing a path down your neck. It also doesn’t help that the entire team is shocked into silence when they see their captain with a girl on his lap, never mind that you’re just making out like teenagers are wont to do. 

Lev, you learn later, is the one who breaks the silence. 

“Is...is that a hologram?” 

You promptly yelp and fall off the chair. Kuroo stares bug eyed at his laptop but makes no move to turn it off. 

“I don��t think holograms are that realistic, it can’t be. She’s….real”, Inuoka answers, looking shell shocked.

Yaku just groans as Kai looks triumphant. “Damnit, now I’m out 1000 yen, seriously -”  

The fact that his teammates bet on his lovelife is what kickstarts Kuroo’s engines. “Seriously?!” he half shouts at the screen, turning an alarmingly deep shade of red. “1000 yen?! Kai, you gotta give me a share of that bet - I helped you win that.” 

“Tetsuro!” you scold, as the rest of the guys burst into laughter.  

“C’mon, that’s enough to pay for a bowl of gyudon at Sukiya, I’m a broke university student - ” 

That initial encounter makes it just a touch awkward when he finally brings you to meet his team. It’s difficult enough for any outsider to be brought into a tight knit circle, and inside jokes and years of nostalgia and friendships forged to navigate, but you try for Kuroo, fussing about your clothes (a rare occurrence that’s smoothened with Yua’s help), smiling and nodding and trying your best to be a girlfriend he can be proud of. 

But they’re welcoming, if a little shocked that anyone in their right mind is willing to give their captain a chance in the romance department. 

“You’re really, really pretty”, Yamamoto tells you to your face when you say hi to him. 

“I apologise on behalf of him. He hasn’t been socialised enough to talk to girls  who aren’t his sister”, Kai gently reaches to shut Yamamoto’s open jaw. “He says that to every girl he meets - ”

“Play dating sims, that’s what I’ve told him, but he doesn’t listen.” 

Lev guffaws, as Inuoka stifles a smile. “No wonder Yamamoto doesn’t have a girlfriend. Hey! We should start a bet on him next - “

“Lev, you asshole! How ‘bout we bet that I punch you in the next five seconds - “

The waitress looks over at the increasingly rowdy table with nervous eyes. Shibayama and Teshiro try their best to pull Yamamoto back, but those squats and deadlifts (and a pro-athlete’s training) has done Yamamoto’s raw strength some good. Fukunaga cocks his head. 

“Mr. Freeze says - “

Kuroo looks horrified. Kai too. Kenma wisely stays out of the way. 

“Fukunaga, where did you even find a bucket in the restaurant - NO YOU PUT THAT DOWN NOW - ” 

You laugh, entertained by their antics as Kuroo and Kai corral them into some semblance of order, Shibayama and Teshiro being slotted in to separate Yamamoto and Lev, Kenma snorting softly by the side. “They’re always like this”, Kenma says softly to you. You somehow suspect he means it (somewhat as a compliment). 

“I’m glad he has you guys as his friends”, you say quietly to Kenma, when Kuroo ducks away ostensibly to the toilet, but you suspect he’s stealing off to pay the bill. Kai will insist on splitting it, you suspect, and it’s a toss up who will win. “Good, real friends are hard to come by, and I’m glad he has that.” 

It’s awfully maudlin of you, and you regret saying it when the chatter around you dies down and the boys all stare bug eyed at you. 

You shrink back in your seat. “Um - sorry, was that too forward of me?”

Kenma begins to shake his head, but you’re startled by Yamamoto, who grabs your hand with tears in his eyes. “You’re so niceeeeee!” he wails, as Inuoka tries to shush him to no avail. Shibayama eyes the waitress nervously while Teshiro just sighs. Fukunaga’s fingers inch towards the red bucket sitting ominously next to him. 

“Um - “ you blink, unsure how to respond. 

“Kuroo senpai is our friend?” 

“Oh my god, Lev - you’re an idiot, yes we’re friends - ”

Kai pats your hand with a warm, reassuring smile. “Welcome to the circus”, he says, eyes twinkling. “I’m sorry for the chaos, but we’re very glad to have you too.” 

“Yamamoto would definitely be the head clown - “ 

“I wanna be the ringmaster or lion tamer!” 

The debate rages on. Kuroo doesn’t even look confused when he returns to the table, bill in hand as you expected, despite his team being engaged in a debate on the roles they’d have in their imaginary circus. 

“I’m the magician, of course - Yakkun should be on the trapeze, he’s small enough - “

“I’m telling him you said that -” 

“He should be glad I didn’t cast him as the dwarf - ”

You shake your head at their antics. The waitress does come over to shoo them out, claiming that there are customers waiting for a seat though there clearly aren’t, but the boys aren’t phased, trooping over to a nearby combini to grab ice cream before piling outside to sit on the curb, by the quiet road. Kuroo comes over, leans his chin on top of your head, dodging without looking when you swat at him.

“Having fun?” 

You steal a lick of his ice cream. He doesn’t complain. 

“They’re nice”, you say, looking over at Kenma scowling in mock disgust as Yamamoto and Lev challenge each other to see who can finish three popsicles the fastest, Fukunaga acting as a makeshift referee. “They’re funny, and a little mad but I like them.” 

Kuroo smiles into your hair. “I’m glad”, he murmurs. “I was worried their antics might drive you away.” 

“You’re the worst of them”, you reply, laughing. “If I can put up with you, I definitely can put up with them.” 

“I resent that, sweetheart”, he smirks, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “Though I do appreciate the sentiment.”

“Oi! No PDA-ing, it makes the rest of us single folk here feel sad and lonely.” 

“Only you, Yamamoto”, Kenma snorts. “Only you.” 

Yamamoto wails again, for the second time of the night. “Kyannnnmaaaaa!”

Meeting your respective families is a little more complicated. 

His grandparents, unsurprisingly, love you. To be more exact, as Kuroo tells it, lying head in your lap, a soft smile that you feel rather than see against the soft plush of your thighs, they’ve loved you ever since you introduced yourself to them at the first match in his freshman year. You suppose you’ve bought their affection with beef jerky and your evident care for their only grandson, but they make a fuss over you, forcing you to take home as much leftovers as Kuroo when you visit them on the weekends. 

“They love you”, Kuroo says simply, when you ask him why. “How could they not?”

You don’t really have an answer to that, so you try to make yourself worthy of their love. Kuroo’s already a filial grandson, bringing them food, accompanying them on their weekend grocery runs, and while you hesitate to join them initially, they look so pleased when you meekly ask if you can come along that you slot yourself right into their routine. 

“At least that way I’m not third-wheeling”, Kuroo laughs, as his grandparents link hands and hobble on ahead, looking absolutely adorable in their matching canes that they actually don’t need, but a little walking aid calms their family’s fear of a potential fall.

“Glad to know that’s all I’m here for”, you tease, but you link your pinky in his, following behind his grandparents to head back home. 

Indulgent grandparents aside, your respective sets of parents are a little less easily handled. 

Your dad, fussy school teacher that he is, is the easiest to please. It helps that he’s mild mannered and easily bribed with a bottle of good sake, alleviating your fears that he might turn his nose up Kuroo’s hair. You didn’t even have to whip out the story that you’ve prepared that the barbers in the vicinity have declared his hair untameable, and it’s completely natural. 

Your mother, on the other hand, is cordial to him, but she doesn't warm up to him as you expected. Nothing seems to sway her, neither gifts nor offers to help clear the dishes seem to earn her approval. Though she doesn't explicitly say anything bad about Kuroo, her lack of tacit acceptance rankles.

You take her aside one evening after a dinner she spends uncharacteristically quiet despite Kuroo trying his best to draw her out. 

"Do you not like Tetsuro for some reason, mom?" You've never known her to be anything less than supportive of your choices, so you don't understand her reticence towards your boyfriend. 

She denies it, of course - but after citing examples too numerous for her to brush away, she takes your hand and admits that she's just worried for you. 

"Tetsuro's a good person" you say, unable to see exactly what she's worrying about. 

“I’m sure he is”, she says, with a touch of unease. 

“But….?” you prompt her. She pokes her head out of your room to check that your father is still in the kitchen savouring a warm glass of sake. 

“"You've always had dreams, ever since you were a little girl. You weren’t just satisfied with stories of princesses being rescued. You always asked me why they didn’t do more for themselves. And I can still see that little girl in you now with your dreams of chasing both a career and having a family of your own.”

“What’s that got to do with Tetsuro?” 

“Relationships require sacrifice”, she begins. “It’s nothing personal. I just hope he’s someone who’ll support you in everything you want to achieve.” 

“He will”, you say with certainty. 

“I hope so”, she replies. “But then again, we’ll never know. Being a wife, a mother, a woman with a career - that’s going to be extremely difficult, and sometimes you may end up making compromises you never dreamed of.”

You’ve never thought about your mother, your father, their choices in too great detail. You’ve considered if your mother regrets the path she’s taken in life, staying home to be with you and your little brother in lieu of a career of her own. 

“Do you regret it?” 

Your mother reads the thrust of your question, doesn’t need to ask what it means. “My choices are my own, darling. My feelings towards them - I don’t want to influence your choices, because it’s your life to lead.”

You look at her quizzically. She takes it as her cue to continue. 

“I just want you to be happy. That’s what every parent wants for their child. I just want you to be supported when you make your choices, and I hope Kuroo-kun will support you in whatever you do.” 

It’s perplexing that she doesn’t see Kuroo the way you do - the way he beams with pride when you ace another test, friendly competition aside, the way he boasts about you to his grandparents, his friends, even though you tell him to stop. He’s your most ardent supporter, and you know it - you trust him. 

“My dad’s like that too.” 

It’s a quiet winter day when he admits this to you. You finally find the words to spill your confusion about your mother’s doubts about him when the snow is hard on the ground, and he’s tucked against your side, warm and pliant like a cat, taking a break from endless revision. Yua’s out, busying herself with some clinical psych trials that she’s enthusiastic about (but truth be told, you have no idea what she’s talking about when she explains them to you) so you have the apartment to yourself. 

“He doesn’t like me?” 

“It’s not like that”, Kuroo hastens to assure you, mouth twisting. “It’s just - the divorce was hard on him.” It was hard on Kuroo too - you know from the halting way he describes his relationship or lack thereof with his mum that his parents’ divorce has shaped the way he’s viewed marriage and romantic relationships in general. You know from his aversion to fights and loud arguments that the lonely, confused little boy from his childhood still exists, buried deep in his psyche. 

“We won’t be like that”, you say, quiet. “We’ll figure things out together.” 

He leans back heavily on the sofa, eyes pensive. “If I ever had kids, I can’t - I won’t put them through that.”

“If we had kids together”, you say firmly. “We’ll do better for them.” 

Never mind that you’ve never discussed the prospect of marriage together before, let alone kids. You’re so young, both of you are so young, and there’s still so much for you to do before you even think  about it. But you’ve certainly dreamed of it - with Tetsuro, dreamed of children with his laughing eyes and dark, rumpled hair, dreamed of coming home every day to him. 

“How can you be so sure of that?” 

He doesn’t look at you, gaze carefully blank, but there’s a catch in his voice that makes you so badly want to reach back two decades into the past, take his child self into your arms and give him a warm, tight hug. You imagine him, hair rumpled from burying his face in pillows, trying to drown out the angry sound of his parents arguing, the desolation when his mother leaves him, the realisation that he’s not like other kids, being brought up by his grandparents, his dad too busy with work most of the time. 

“As long as we try our best, I know we’ll be fine. Life isn’t a fairytale - but - and I know this is a cliché, but if we support each other, and if we love each other, we’ll work things out. I’ll never - I won’t put my - our children through that either. I won’t, I swear I won’t. ”

“Promise?” he asks, catching your hand in his, grip tight. 

“I promise”, you reply, bringing your entwined hands to your lips, sealing your words with a kiss. 

The rest of your university years pass uneventfully, if sustained happiness can be described as that. 

Yua moves out at the end of your third year, having completed her masters course at Waseda. She gets her long awaited proposal, Meian dropping onto one knee at the celebratory dinner you threw for her, surprising her both with an impromptu visit and a velvet box. 

“Yes!” she shrieks, loud enough to deafen the entire restaurant. 

She moves back to Osaka to finally be with the love of her life, and though you miss her dearly, you think it’s a very good thing that you’re not physically around to witness her ramblings and breakdowns about wedding menus and napkins and awful florists who don’t know how to be professional. Meian is more than welcome to handle her in this state. 

Kuroo takes her place, and you spend the last year of university staying with him. He isn’t too bad to live with, does most of the chores with minimal complaint and makes really decent sandwiches. Minor quibbles about toilet cleaning schedules aside, it’s been smooth sailing, and you can imagine this - living together everyday in a little home with him. 

The final year of university passes swiftly, most of it with you buried in books, nervously attending interviews with prospective employers, and it ends with top grades and a firm job offer in hand. Kuroo, too, places second, just behind you (which he’s proud of, as he should be), a job with a top marketing firm though he dreams of parlaying his marketing work experience into a full time role with the Japanese Volleyball Association - but that’s to come. 

Both of you attend graduation hand in hand. He’s beside you when you toss your graduation cap high into the air, and his hand is in yours as you walk out of the campus for the last time in a flurry of white and pink petals. Your families have planned a joint graduation celebration for you at Fukunaga’s aunt’s diner, with the rest of your friends in tow (the Nekoma team have promised to show up, even Yaku via zoom despite the time difference), but instead of heading back to the apartment to get ready, he tugs you to Toyama Park, where you used to greet the sun together, meandering through flowering sakura trees to the seven eleven where he dashed in, your very own knight in shining armour. 

“Are you being a sentimental old man again?” you tease, as he insists on buying you ice cream, never mind the disaster if you spill it all over your graduation robes. 

“Always, when it comes to you”, he laughs, gallantly tucking a napkin over your lap. 

You, his teammates, his friends, his grandparents - he’s a sentimental old soul in a young body, and that’s just another quirk that you’ve learnt to love about him. 

The afternoon sun is warm on your cheeks, melting the ice cream until it’s a sticky mess in your fingers, and he clucks playfully, wiping your palms down with the packet of wet tissues that he always carts around, courtesy of his grandmother’s nagging. You let him, smiling fondly as he lifts each finger to check their cleanliness, before tucking the used tissue neatly into his pocket. 

“Shouldn’t we be getting home to get ready for tonight?” 

“Let’s sit here a little while longer”, he says. A breezle ripples through his hair, sunlight shimmering gold in his eyes. You want to accede to his request, but the demands of life start to tug at you, worry you. 

“For what?”

“Tsk”, he chides you gently, thumb rubbing affection circles against your wrist. “Impatient as always.” 

You shake your head, climbing to your feet. “We have things to do, Tetsuro…” 

His hand is still in yours as he smiles up at you, sunshine spilling through the leaves, highlighting the gold ring that’s suddenly appeared in his other hand. 

Your heart skips a beat. 

“I wanted to ask you out here, y’know”, he says conversationally. “All those years ago, I dreamed about it, thinking it’d be romantic to ask you to be my girlfriend one summer evening, whilst the wisteria tree was in its full, violet bloom. Fate clearly had a different plan, or well - Akaashi and Kenma threw a very welcome spanner in the works by interfering, but I think now would be a good time to try and fulfil that old dream. Or a new dream, should I say?”

“What - ?” your voice breaks, voice shaking. You’re hopeless. You’re already tearing up. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I’ve got plenty of dreams, and I’d like to make them come true, if you’d help me, princess.”  

You play along. “Like what?” 

“I’ve been dreaming of marrying you for some time”, he murmurs, his smile endearingly shy. He gulps, ears tinted pink but you sit back down next to him, wipe your tears away, nudging him gently to carry on. “I dream of working hard at our jobs, buying a home together with you - our castle for us to raise our kids, a cosy, warm, happy place for us to come home to at the end of every day, read fairytales to our little monsters and tuck them into bed every night.” 

You take the ring from his hand, slip it onto your fourth finger. It catches the light when you lift it to the sun, a soft glimmer of gold. 

“It’s funny how our dreams are the same”, you reply, your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, impatient to start the next leg of the journey with your chosen companion for life. 

“Yeah?”, he asks, his smile impossibly tender, impossibly sweet. “Imagine the odds.” 

“Yeah”, you reply, the rest of your words lost when he leans over, steals your breath with a jubilant kiss.  

You are horrendously late to your own graduation dinner, but your tardiness is forgiven immediately when everyone catches sight of the flash of gold on your ring finger. Yua shrieks, jumping on you like a deranged limpet, his grandparents crying with joy. Even his father and your mother congratulate you, despite their earlier misgivings, and the entire evening is spent celebrating with too much food and you are just so drunk on love and happiness that your heart could burst.

There is so much ahead of you. A long road with many ups and downs, countless obstacles and bumps, but you’re not afraid. You welcome what’s to come as long as Kuroo Tetsuro is by your side, sharing your dreams about castles that reach from the ground all the way into the sky.  

m.list.~ taglist.~

a/n: and...we’ve finally reached the end of the longest fic i’ve ever written! sequel to this fic can be found here (a look into their married life), and...i really hope you enjoyed it. thank you for giving this fic a chance. 

[atsumuahh]

confession | dream x reader

( characters...

dream, reader, sapnap, george, karl, technoblade

( in which...

dream falls in love with his girl best friend, but his huge confidence seems to disappear when he’s around her. sapnap, george and karl get annoyed and begin to make their friend jealous.

( warnings...

swear words, jealous!dream, slightly hurt/comfort

( notes...

it’s dream x female reader, but i can make another ones :D!

you knew something was off. you used to hang out with clay a lot but recently he seemed like he was avoiding you. every time you tried talking to him, he would give you lame excuses for his behavior towards you and promised to be better. those times never happened and everyone but dream could easily see how much pain you were in. you just wanted to know what did you do wrong and have dream back.

but after all, it has its own advantages. you began to spend much more of your time with sapnap. he was making sure you didn’t get overwhelmed by the emotions it caused. even with sapnap on your side you couldn’t help distancing yourself from the feral boys. spending every single free period in the library became your new personal trait.

everything started on sunday evening. you used to spend those evenings with dream – he would come over after practice with a pizza box in his hand. you two would lay down on your bed, watching some stupid sitcoms and talking about literally anything till the sunrise.

you sat silently in your bedroom when karl called you on discord while he was playing with george, quackity, and some boy called technoblade. you had a feeling that you had already met before. techno was kind, lovely, and gentle especially towards you.

“are you free tomorrow?” he asked as everyone left the voice chat. “we could hang out after school”. his soft voice melted your heart and you just couldn’t disagree.

dream wasn’t one to be possessive, although he felt mad seeing you giggling around technoblade. you were his best friend, not techno’s and he couldn’t let you replace him. he could’ve handled everything, everyone but not technoblade.

“someone’s jealous?” sapnap teased amused as dream gulped while watching you and techno. his friend punched him lightly on the arm and shook his head. “you should’ve confessed, dickhead, now he’ll do it.” a small laugh left sap’s mouth and annoyingly brushed clay’s ears. you wouldn’t accept techno’s confession, would you?

“i’m not jealous. he’s just not for her. she’s too precious and- and gorgeous and generous... and funny, and sweet for someone like him.” he pressed his lips together. “she’s a luxurious treasure and he’s just a... just a greedy pirate that wants to steal her.”

“oh no, a pirate's reference” george rolled his eyes with a small beam forming on his pale face. brushing through his hair he noticed a quick, small kiss placed on your forehead by techno.

“there’s no fucking way. i’m going to kill him” he was in pure fury. the guy he hated the most was kissing his best friend, his crush, his... lover. and he couldn’t do anything because he was so afraid of confessing. he was afraid that she would notice the way he feels about her and she would reject him.

“chill, dude” sapnap rolled his eyes annoyed. “it’s your fault, dickhead. you have been ignoring her for almost a month.” sapnap has enough. “she’s been calling all of us crying and asking what she did wrong and why did you leave her. did you even think about how she feels?” dream couldn’t blame sapnap.

he knew sapnap was right, he was egoistic in every possible way. not even for a second, he bothered to think about your feelings. were you sad? happy? did you even care? he wouldn’t know that.

confessing isn’t an easy thing to do, but clay knew that this day was coming. he had to do it, if he wouldn’t confess, he would probably lose you, otherwise, you can always reject his confession and there’s a possibility for you to leave him.

it was one of those nights you two used to spend together. your parents let him in happy to see the boy again. you didn’t get a chance to explain to them the situation between you and clay. he knocked on your door before coming in.

“y/n...” he whispered, watching you play minecraft with some people and it felt like giving up. what if you didn’t want to be his friend anymore? what if you didn’t even like him in the first place? he wasn’t prepared for this.

“clay? what are you doing here?” she asked quietly, turning herself to face him. shock forming on her face made him feel even worse. dream knew he messed up.

“i came here to... to apologize to you.” he walked a bit closer. “i’m really sorry y/n... i know i fucked up, but i have an explanation, bad but still an explanation.”

“go ahead.” she responded hesitantly.

“i’ts dumb, foolish, stupid... i avoided you, because... i realized how much in love with you i am. i was afraid of losing you and i just couldn’t help but slowly distant myself from you. i-i know i should’ve told you but i-i was–” you cut him off by kissing him slowly.

maybe it was the adrenaline or something else that could boost clay’s confidence, but he immediately grabbed your hips as you kissed him and pulled you closer.

“you’re such an idiot, you know?” you asked with a soft smile, arms wrapped around his torso. “buuut well i might accept your apology if you kiss me one more time”.

[pastelmaximoff]

Hermione x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hermione is invited to the library to help you and Harru study, Harry Falls asleep at the table, leaving you and Hermione to really get down to the "studying".

Warnings: fingering, public sex, oral sex, lesbian sex

Let me know if I missed any <3

Hermione walks into the library with a quick, confident stride.

"Hey Hermione," I say.

"Hello Hermione," Harry says winking at me, he is the only one who knows about our relationship.

"Hi y/n, hi Harry," Hermione says as she sits down next to me and looks at Harry across from us. "Where do you want to start?"

"How about...." Harry begins, trailing off at the complete lack of concentration. We have been studying for hours but may have gone off task and forgotten what we were actually doing. That's why we need Hermione.

I giggle and Hermione eyes me. I can see that she is slightly disappointed at my type of humour and slightly jealous that she wasn't the one making me laugh. Hermione smiles regardless, she either likes my laugh or is just trying to hold back a laugh of her own.

"How about Herbology?" She says, still smiling at me.

Harry and I nod and time flies as we begin studying.

~~~ FOUR HOURS LATER ~~~

Harry is asleep at the table across from me and Hermione.

"... And that is how to make the Liquid Luck," She finishes.

"Mmmm" I say, looking at her perfect features.

"Are you even listening?" Hermione asks me, "Harry fell asleep and after that I think you zoned out a bit."

"I was busy studying your face, it's more interesting and more beautiful than any class could ever be," I respond, moving my hand in a circular motion over the exposed skin of her thigh.

"Oh, y/n..." She says, trailing off; distracted by my seductive fingers.

I drag my fingers up her thigh until I reach her underwear, stopping to stroke the edges of the fabric. Hermione looks at me with pleading eyes; a guilty pleasure in need of completion. She bites her bottom lip and I lift her underwear just enough to fit my fingers between the fabric and her tight pussy. The wish sent to me through her brown eyes is about to be fulfilled.

I stick my finger in her pussy and her moan sounds like a mixture of pleasure and surprise. Hermioen hates getting I trouble (she very rarely does) and this is a risky thing to do in a public library. I move my fingers in and out get as deep as I can but I can only go so far. She needs more and that is exactly what she'll get. I slide off my chair and end up under the table, right in between Hermione's legs. I lift her skirt up against her stomach and pull her underwear to the floor.

Hermione looks down at me with an expression I call lust. I sniff her underwear then throw to the floor next to me before I drag her chair closer under the table. I place my head further up her legs until I reach her wet pussy. I stick my tongue in and out and lick her precious clit. She tries not to moan too loudly by placing a hand over her mouth. I lick and lick until I'm not sure if the moisture over her pussy is my saliva or her cum.

Then I hear a gasp from the other side of the table. Oh shit. Harry is awake. I pull myself away from Hermione's clit and sit under the table.

"Good morning Harry," Hermione says sarcastically; arousing little suspicion.

"Hey, where did y/n go?" He asks, completely unaware that I'm sitting below them.

"Oh... uh... She just went to the toilet, she'll be back soon!" She says, becoming flustered by her lies.

"OK then, tell her I said goodnight!" Harry says, gathering his things before heading out of the library.

Hermione let's out a sigh. Thank God. Harry can be an idiot sometimes.

"Now where was I?" I say smirking to myself before I stick a finger in Hermione and watch as her wet pussy allows my fingers to slip in and out more easily than before. Her back archs in pleasure.

I smile and move my face into her pussy. My tongue moves in her tight pussy, pressing against her walls. I get more intense and she whimpers. Meanwhile my hands move up her hips, along her waist and onto her tits. They are bigger than they look and fit in my hand perfectly. I squish hard and I hear her moan. The licking and groping gets more intense and then the sweet words I've been waiting for slips out of her mouth:

"I'm going to cum..."

I take my hands off her little breasts and remove my tongue. Within the same second my bands replace my tongue and I go in with three fingers, further than I went before. I'm fast and I'm deep. She moans harder until her delicious cum pours out over my fingers. I lick around her pussy to clean her up and then I get up from under the table. I stick my fingers in Hermione's mouth and she licks up her cum. Her legs are sprawled under the table and I can see her pussy from up here.

I push back her chair and stand in front of her. I rip open her shirt and pull her sweet tits out of that restricting bra. I squeeze her hard nipples and then move my hands over her face, stroking her cheek.

"Goodnight Hermione," I say before leaving her almost naked in the library. That's was some of my best work yet.