#i am however severely distracted

[ace-malarky]

Oh gross I have housework to do today guys

I have fucken chores :(

But also I think I'm close to the end of this piece maybe soooo 👉👈

[3hks]

How to Write a Character with THAT *Sad Aura*

Have you ever stumbled upon a character, who, despite radiating wholesome, positive energy, also has a subtle undertone of sadness? It's kind of intriguing, isn't it? If you've ever wanted to write a perhaps more complex character or explore writing emotions, why not check this out?

What am I talking about?

Let's do a quick introduction as to what I mean. I've said this a couple times already, but to the reader, this character feels despondent even though they act nothing like it. This doesn't mean they have to act happy all the time (like my first example); they might act cold, or apathetic, but the point is they don't act visibly sad.

This faint melancholic mood provides a charming, or even nostalgic feel to the audience through ONE character! Isn't that kind of fun?

Eye Expressions

This character will not show sadness on their face--that contradicts the idea of "sad aura". But you know what they say, right? Eyes are the windows to the soul; they do not lie!

When trying to highlight some of this unhappiness, write about their eyes. Talk about how their eyes look oddly dim sometimes when they smile, or how they don't meet their friend's eyes when they laugh. These cues are simple but powerful.

Adverbs

You always have to be mindful of adverbs, but here especially, adverbs (and adjectives) unconsciously influence how your audience views the character.

For example, avoid saying too much of "smiled brightly" or "talked excitedly". If these are the adverbs you purposefully want to use to portray your character, then by all means! However, these adverbs add a happier connotation, which you must be aware of. If you want something more neutral (which I recommend for the most part), consider using lighter adverbs/adjectives, such as "smiled softly", or "offered lightly".

Reasons

A reason is normally needed for almost everything. Here, you want genuine reasons to back up why your character doesn't ask for help, thus forcing them to work through their unhappiness alone.

This could be because they think other people can't solve the problem, they don't want to bother others, they don't think their issue is a big deal, or they simply believe there's no solution.

Physical Hints

And if all this isn't enough, then drop some physical hints! Perhaps your character gets distracted often, tends to hesitate before speaking, deflects concerned comments with jokes, or has a hard time acknowledging reassurances, even when it's unrelated to their personal troubles. These habits suggest the idea your character has more than meets the eye.

Mood Changes

When people are upset, their mood tends to fluctuate. For most of us, we're typically upset for a short period, so we cycle through emotions such as anger, sadness, and even joy during these moments.

However, if your character is consistently sad, not just for a day or two, their mood might shift on different days. Maybe they're really tired one day, hardly speaking. Maybe the next, they are more frustrated, snapping at people or ignoring them. Maybe the day after that, they are overly energetic, bouncing everywhere and talking all the time, providing a bit of whiplash.

Purpose

Similar to having a reason for their reluctance of reaching out, you also want to ensure that they have a purpose for fighting. Why haven't they given up yet? This is especially crucial when considering the real world, where feeling upset leads to a lack of motivation.

So, what keeps them going, then? Do they want to fix their regrets? Do they want to change?

Backstory and Actions

To be honest, I wouldn't consider a backstory an absolute necessity, but I highly suggest creating one. Why? Because you can accurately identify the reason for your character's guilt, regret, and sorrows from the past with an actual backstory.

The events of your character's past always influence their future actions.

For example, if they were a part of a severe car accident in the past, perhaps they only feel comfortable when they are the driver in the future because that means they can control the car.

Conclusion

This character is not especially different from any other character, besides the fact that they are neither obvious nor overly secretive of their genuine feelings.

With that being said, focus on embodying their eye expressions, be careful about which adverbs and adjectives you choose to use--I recommend choosing ones with more neutral connotations for a sense of melancholy, explain why your character keeps their sadness to themselves and why they keep fighting despite it, show mood fluctuations, drop physical hints, such as actions and/or specific personality traits, and make sure to connect their past to their present!

Happy writing~

3hks ^^

[happyanimeposts]

Concept: Garak meeting Data. At first, Garak is curious about this android Julian speaks so highly of, hoping for some delightful literature debate. The moment Data walks into view, however, and Data says, "I am eager to spend my shore leave here on the station" Garak gets distracted by the fact that Data is spending his shore leave in his uniform. Naturally, Garak invites Data to his shop to find him something a little more casual and fashionable to wear, but that proves an impossible challenge: Data simply does not style. Garak can find clothes that suit him, that accentuate his skin tone (and then de-accentuate it when Data requests so in an effort to look more human), and he can find styles that suit Data's body type... but none of that changes the fact that Data wears clothes the same way the average person chooses a padd to work with: with no regard for aesthetic whatsoever. Being an android, he has no concept of personal style, and is equally comfortable working clothed or nude, and only wears clothes because of social expectation. Therefore, no matter what Garak styles him in, it ends up looking bland and drab, because Data never really feels the clothes he wears or takes pride in the cut or the make or how it looks on him or any of it.

Finally, Data finds something that he wants to wear, and worse, it's not even from his shop (but then, of course not: Garak would die before allowing a fashion monstrosity like that to come into existence with his own hands). The item of clothing in question: The most hideous cat-print breezy beach shirt Garak has even seen, in a horrid kitchen wall yellow that puts all of Julian's fashion crimes to shame. And then, to top it all off, the yellow brings out Data's eyes nicely, and he enjoys wearing it because the cat on the print reminds him of Spot... which means he looks good in it.

Garak visits sickbay with several fractured knuckles on his right hand, and Julian jokingly asks: "Did you punch a bulkhead?" Garak laughs, but Miles mentions having to repair an odd fist-shaped dent in the bulkhead in Garak's shop, and makes the same joking remark: "I didn't take Garak for a punching a bulkhead kind of guy, but I don't know how else it could have happened."

Suddenly, his joke doesn't seem like much of a joke.

[yourlocalravendork]

Accidental date

A/N: I am a sucker for early seasons Spencer. Give me our sweet, stuttering baby Spence any day of the week. That being said, enjoy some fluff of our favourite boy genius. Buckle up, it's a decently long one

CW: Tooth rotting fluff, both oblivious reader and Spencer (for someone so smart he can be kinda dumb but we love him), wouldn't be a Spencer fic without some nerd facts, reader likes mythology

Words: 2.2k

Being a BAU agent meant an unpredictable life schedule. Spencer knew that. He knew that all too well. You didn't though. You were still adjusting to the fact that and that was apparent with the way you showed up after being called in late.

Spencer was in the break room, grabbing a coffee to wake him up, when you walked in. You were more dressed up than usual and an air of disappointment hung over you. Spencer was about to say something but Derek beat him to it.

"You look like someone's just rained on your parade," Morgan said, leaning on the counter next to Spencer, "What's ruffled your feathers?"

"A date that I'm probably not going to hear back from. I get in my car to leave and then Hotch calls," you sighed. Spencer couldn't really relate. He'd never had to cancel a date due to his severe lack of them, however, he could appreciate your annoyance. He opened his mouth to try and offer some comforting words but was cut off when JJ poked her head in the break room, telling them Hotch was expecting them in the briefing room.

Something similar happened two weeks later. Spencer was just working on some case files when you walk in with a huff, dumping your bag on the floor next to your desk. Dressed up nice, yet again, for someone who would never see the effort you put in for them.

"Can't serial killers respect our weekends?" you mutter with a roll of your eyes. It drew an amused huff from Spencer.

"Life would be so much easier that way, wouldn't it?" Spencer said, the hint of amusement lacing his voice. You had to admit, his amused tone did help ease your annoyance at being called in.

"Come on, boy genius, let's get our arses to the briefing room so we don't get lectured about the importance of punctuality," You sighed.

Spencer was slowly coming to the conclusion you were cursed. This was coming from a man of science and statistics, keep in mind. Your dates being called off due to a case was becoming a regular thing and Spencer couldn't help but wonder if you ever got time to yourself. The case started how it seemed to usually start. You came in, disappointment clear on your face, a slight slump in your posture. Spencer felt sorry for you. Truly, he did. So he decided you needed something to cheer you up.

After they wrapped up the case, Spencer found you gazing out of the jet window. A familiar peaceful look was painting your face. He'd noticed that you often enjoyed just looking out windows as you travelled. He often wondered what you were thinking as you looked out there.

All confidence he was building up dissipated when you turned your head and smiled softly as he took a seat opposite you. His face started to contort as he tried to figure out how to put this. His hands had a mind of their own as he fiddled with his own fingers, a familiar stim he had to keep him grounded.

"I... Well," he began, swallowing any fear that might be threatening to infiltrate his voice, "I sort of noticed, when you first got here for the case, you... You looked almost disappointed... And stressed, definitely stressed." He mentally cursed himself. Was it rude to say a woman looked stressed? He didn't know. He just thought he was digging a deeper hole for himself. Little did he know, you were hanging onto every word he was saying. At least someone was paying attention. Failed date after failed date did horrible stuff for your self esteem.

"Well... I... I... Um, I figured that you might need a distraction from all this work," Spencer wrung his hands, really underestimating how nerve wracking asking a colleague to spend time with you actually was, "So if you want, there's this planetarium and I have an extra ticket. I... I figured if there was anyone on this plane that would genuinely enjoy the planetarium, it would be you. So... I guess what I am trying to ask is if you'd want to go with me?" You smiled softly over at him. By the way he was continously wringing his hands, it was clear he was apprehensive in asking. But you figured what did you have to lose.

"Sure, that would be nice," you replied with a small nod. And with those five words, you could see a wave of relief wash over his face.

Spencer was patiently waiting for you to pack up your things once you reached the bull pen. He was more nervous than he thought. It was just two friends going to the planetarium together. Nothing more, right?

"You, um... You ready to go?" Spencer asked, his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to swallow his nerves.

"Yeah," you replied quietly, grabbing your bag and before you could sling it over your shoulder, Spencer spoke up.

"I'll carry that, if you want," he offered. You handed your bag over, thought nothing of it. He was just being a friend.

"Thanks," you nodded as the two of you made your way to the elevator.

You got into Spencer's car and buckled up, a lot more confident than Spencer. He was worrying about you thinking anything more of this little outing. Would that be a bad thing though? He didn't know, his thoughts were too cluttered. The car ride was quiet to begin with. Spencer was a bit apprehensive on turning the radio on. He was overthinking his music taste now. What would you think if you turned on the radio and just heard classical music? Who even listened to classical music for fun? Him, that's for sure. He was pulled out of his thoughts by your voice. "Do you always drive in silence?" you asked him. He shook his head. "No, I… Um…" Words were getting stuck in his throat. Why was he so nervous? "I usually have the radio on. You can turn it on if you want." The second the words left his lips, he regretted them. You reached towards the car stereo and turned it on. The sounds of Vivaldi's Four Seasons filled the car. A soft smile appeared on your face. Spencer tried to read it. Was it a teasing smile? Were you going to take the piss out of him? "This is one of my favourite pieces," you said before humming along under your breath. That helped relieve Spencer of some of his stress. At least you didn't think he was a total nerd for listening to classical music.

Spencer had severely underestimated how many people had the same idea of coming to the planetarium. He could handle a lot of things. He saw a lot of things with his job. But one thing he could not deal with was large crowds. He shuffled closer to you, swallowing his nerves for the nth time this evening. He didn't want to say something. You were already fed up of dates being cancelled because of work, the last thing you needed was this to be cancelled because Spencer hated large crowds. As if sensing his nerves, you subtly offered him your hand. You doubted he'd take it due to the 'staggering amount of pathogens', however he did. As he did, he shot you an appreciative look. It was nothing, really. It's what friends do, right?

The two of you found your seats and settled in. It was practically packed. However, as the show began, the room fell silent. Spencer could deal with this. He was trying to focus on the talk, he really was, however, you were right there next to him. He watched you as you clung onto every word, watching as you relaxed, finding a rare moment of peace in your stressful job. It was a nice sight to see and a small smile quirked up the corner of his lips. He didn't need to look up at the projection of the stars. He much preferred to view it through the reflection in your eyes. It was almost like childlike wonder. Beautiful. That was the only word Spencer could think to describe this moment. It would be one he thought about for months, even years to come.

"Do you have a favourite star?" you asked, as you the two of you left to head to his car. Like the gentleman he was, he held the door open for you as he thought about your question. "I quite like Sirius. It's in the Canis Major constellation. According to myth, the Canis Major and Minor constellations were Orion's hunting dogs. Orion would boast about how many animals he'd killed so when he was banished, him and his hunting dogs were doomed to hunt the skies yet never to catch anything." Spencer really wasn't expecting you to still be paying attention by the end of his mini ramble. Most people lost interest. But as he looked over at you in the passenger seat, he noticed you were hanging onto every word he was spewing. It was a nice feeling, knowing someone had been paying attention. "I quite like mythology," you admit, "Especially Greek. Although Norse is quite intresting too, so is Egyptian and, of course, Roman." It was a little fascination of yours that you kept to yourself. Just something small to keep your mind off of all the gore your work had. "It's quite fascinating looking back on myths too. You can really learn a lot about the time period through myths and how certain people are portrayed," you said before going on a ramble about myths. As Spencer drove, he couldn't quite believe how much more you were being open. He knew you had nerdy tenancies, he just didn't know the extent of them. It was nice to hear you talk.

The next morning, Spencer watched as you walked over to your desk. There was a slight bounce to your step. It had worked. His little outing had cheered you up. He smiled to himself as you took a seat next to him. "Morning," you said in a rather cheerful tone as you logged onto your computer. "Good morning," he replied with a soft nod. "Good morning, love birds," Morgan chimed in, putting a hand on both of your backs. Spencer looked very confused. Love birds? Where did that nickname come from? "So, how was your date? I mean, outing," he teased, that typical, teasing smirk painting his lips. "It wasn't a date, Morgan. We just went to the planetarium," you pointed out. "Yeah, you did. Just the two of you, boy genius here drove you there and home. Sounds like a date to me," Morgan shrugged. The more he spoke, the more he was right. It did sound an awful lot like a date. "I bet he even held the doors for you like the gentleman he is." Morgan's teasing was all in good faith, as usual. However that didn't stop the blush creeping up Spencer's neck. Yeah, it really did seem like a date. Before Morgan had time to tease you anymore, Emily cut in, ready to save you two from embarrassment. "Leave them alone, Morgan," Emily said with a roll of her eyes, "What they do in their free time is up to them."

As Morgan walked away, Spencer thought about it. Yeah, the way Morgan put it definitely made it sound like a date. Spencer wasn't sure what to think about that. He began wringing his hands again. He could feel his heart hammering against his chest, his breathing was slowly picking up. He was panicking. Panicking over the fact that, yeah, he had taken you on a date and neither of you realised. "You good?" you asked, looking over at him. "Yeah…" he tried lying however his voice cracked, clearly betraying his true feelings, "Well, sort of… No." "You're overthinking," you pointed out. "Did you see last night as… As a… As a date?" he struggled to get that last part out and, frankly, he was freaking out about your reply. "I didn't really think of it that way until Morgan opened his mouth about it," You shrugged. Oh god. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? Spencer's mind started spinning, running worse case scenario after worse case scenario. Until your words quietened his mind. "If it was a date, it was the best one I'd been on in a while." Your smile was soft, just like your voice. He nodded slowly, trying to process it. You weren't mad that it could be interpreted as a date. You weren't disgusted by the idea of going on a date with him. "Well… I mean… That's… Good. Good. Cool," Spencer said, trying to form words. His 187 IQ was slashed into single digits all because of you. His brain was mush. "Maybe at some point we could go on an official date," You said slightly quieter. And if he brain wasn't mush then, it certainly was now. "That would be nice," he said with a small nod.

[saphronethaleph]

Hobbyest

An insistent beeping pierced the gloom.

Darth Vader rolled his eyes, not that it was visible under his mask, and answered his comlink.

“What is thy bidding, my master?” he asked.

“Where ARE you?” Palpatine demanded.

“I am working to improve the security of the Empire, Master,” Darth Vader answered, reasonably enough. “Will this take long? I am occupied on important matters.”

“Where. Are. You?” Palpatine reiterated. “I want an answer, Vader!”

“I am on the Death Star,” Vader said. “I have been working to improve it. There were several significant problems that the Geonosians had not resolved and it has been quite relaxing.”

“I didn’t want you on the Death Star,” Palpatine seethed. “I wanted you out hunting down the remaining Jedi! Killing anyone who would object to my rule! Doing the hard work so I did not have to!”

“Oh,” Vader replied. “It appears that there has been a miscommunication on our roles, Master.”

“Yes, clearly there has been,” Palpatine said, snippily. “Now, get back to work. Your real work, Vader.”

The comlink shut off.

Vader picked it up, contemplated it, then contemplated the long shaft that fell away below him.

He dropped the comlink off, and got back to work.

His real work.

Making the biggest tech project he had ever seen or heard of work properly.

“Sir?”

Vader let out a sigh, and pushed himself out from underneath the main control panel of the primary hypermatter reactor.

“Do you want me to be distracted while working with a bomb as powerful as a small star?” he asked.

“...no, Lord Vader,” the stormtrooper admitted. “However-”

“Then do not interrupt me again,” Vader said, dismissively, and pulled himself back underneath.

“It’s from the Emperor!” the stormtrooper said, his voice high and squeaky.

Vader closed his eyes, sighing, then pushed himself out from under the control panel once more.

“VADER!” the comlink shouted. “I have a list of people for you to murder that is thirty pages long and getting longer by the day! Start murdering people!”

“Master,” Vader replied. “Can’t you do it with clones?”

“I don’t have enough,” Palpatine said, reluctantly. “Any more. Now hurry up!”

“Local forces?” Vader suggested. “Perhaps make another batch order from the Kaminoans, to solve the problem more permanently? Or perhaps-”

“Kamino was destroyed by orbital bombardment,” the Emperor replied. “More importantly, Vader, you have murders to do. A totalitarian Empire won’t run itself.”

“...that sounds like a disadvantage, Master,” Vader said. “Because the Republic ran itself. Badly, from what I could tell, but it did.”

“Do not play smart with me, Vader,” Palpatine replied. “I require you to clear your murder list as soon as possible.”

The comlink deactivated, and Vader glared at it.

Then at the trooper.

Then he frowned, though all three of those actions just looked from the outside like a blank stare and the stormtrooper was clearly starting to wonder if he should just faint now and get it over with.

“Hmm,” he mused. “Trooper. Assign me a new comlink. Key in the frequency to the system, but make it available only to the Emperor’s clearance. And I will be providing you with some personalization details.”

“...yes, Lord Vader,” the trooper said, then hurried off to get a comlink.

Vader watched him go, then pulled himself back under the console.

He was fairly sure he could improve the diagnostics routine on this so it wouldn’t keep raising errors… perhaps a self-learning system?

It had worked for Threepio, after all…

Palpatine scowled, which was normal.

There was still no sign of Vader! This was intolerable disobedience, and not what he would have expected at all.

Though, admittedly, perhaps Vader’s bad attitude might be the result of spending literal years training Anakin to be a contrary little piece of poodoo who didn’t mind defying or even murdering authority. But that was nonsense, so Palpatine readily ignored it as irrelevant.

Because, far more importantly, Vader had murders to do and he wasn’t doing them! If people kept being permitted to get away with things, some of them would start actually asking why he hadn’t called an election in years. Or why he had emergency powers to deal with the Separatists and the Jedi when they were both, clearly, basically all dead.

Such questions didn’t bear thinking about.

Deciding to be even more sarcastic at Vader than normal, Palpatine brought up Vader’s personal com frequency. There was a new one in there now, which meant that Vader was displaying useful signs of obedience at least, and Palpatine tapped to call it.

“You’ve reached the comlink of Darth Vader,” a message said, in Vader’s tones. “I’m busy right now.”

“Wh-?” Palpatine demanded, his voice full of anger for the first half of the first syllable, then realized that he couldn’t quite breathe properly.

His aged hand flew to his throat, as he tried to fend off whatever was obstructing his breathing, but he was already struggling to concentrate – then he realized there was an iron bar of rage and dark power clamped around his throat.

Tearing at it with his own use of the Force proved useless, for Vader – it had to be Vader – had an implacable will, unaffected by anything Palpatine could do, and he coughed several more times as the world started to go unaccountably grey.

“And how do you feel?” Vader inquired, checking a small readout.

“I think… yes,” the computer responded.

“Elaborate,” Vader requested.

“Yes,” the computer said. “Yes, I do feel. I think. I have… complicated and quite nuanced thoughts on podracing.”

“Podracing is fun,” Vader replied. “How do you feel about the designation DS-1Y?”

“Acceptable,” the computer answered. “I am DS-1Y.”

“And we’re now in the record books,” Vader said. “Since you are, as of now, the largest droid in galactic history.”

DS-1Y’s running lights flashed, and it made a beep.

“I understand, Your Imperial Majesty,” it said.

Vader considered that.

Then looked over at the comlink, which was (1) on mute and (2) flashing with an indicator that there was a message waiting.

“I told him I was busy,” he said, shrugging. “Hm. Dissy, who would you recommend as the next Emperor? I am too occupied to take up the job.”

[demonic0angel]

Please post more of your Dan in Arkham series please!!! it is so good and I love it so much. Could we maybe get a glimpse of the first meeting?

(Hell yeah!!)

Dan’s eyes widened.

The man in front of him was lean and lithe, clad in blue and black with an even more gorgeous soul underneath. His soul was bright and free, beautiful like a dove in a clear summer sky. The purity and goodness of it almost made Dan sick to the stomach, if it didn’t make his mouth water even more.

The man turned around, noticing the chill and then frowned at him, looking at him up and down. Dan just smirked, enjoying the attention and observing him right back, eyes specifically drawn to the mask. Was this man a hero?

Ugh.

Of course he was.

He was very lucky that his soul seemed delicious and he was easy on the eyes. Otherwise, even with his promise to Jazz, Dan would’ve just completely ignored him, if not beating him up.

The hero finally said, “Sorry, do I know you? If you’re new here, let me warn you. There’s a no meta rule here in Gotham.”

“I am new here,” Dan said. “Maybe you could show me around?”

The hero blinked, before his lips twitched. Then he forcefully frowned and said, “Sorry, I have a policy of no flirting while on the job. Can’t afford any distractions after all!”

“You think I’m a distraction?” Dan purred. He leaned in closer and said sweetly, “The name’s Wraith. What’s yours, hero?”

“Nightwing,” the hero said. “And you’re definitely not supposed to be here, Wraith.”

Dan grinned, his fangs showing. Nightwing shivered and stared at him with wide eyes from behind the domino. Dan purred, “Want to fight me for it? If you win, I’ll leave. If I win… hmmm, you owe me.”

Nightwing narrowed his eyes. Two slender sticks slid into his hands in an instant and Dan eyed them with sudden wariness.

“Deal,” he said, and then he swung with a wild smirk. Dan dodged and grinned at him, just as savagely.

Yes, they’d get along wonderfully.

… he had thought, several hours before he accidentally set a building on fire in the middle of his fight with Nightwing. He had gotten a tad arrogant and had hoped to distract Nightwing with it, but only drew his ire as the hero gasped in horror at the sight of the empty apartment alit with green flames.

“Alright, fun’s over. I’m beating your ass and hauling you to jail,” Nightwing said, a sharp glare on his face.

Dan almost whined like a petulant child. That was barely any damage! “It’s an abandoned building! No one even died!”

“You’re still going to be arrested for destruction of property,” the hero said, although he did seem a tad more relaxed. Now he just sounded exasperated and was squinting at him with his head tilted to the side, probably listening to whatever woman was on the other side of the hearing piece.

Dan was especially annoyed at the interloper in between him and Nightwing’s fight.

However, he still responded flirtatiously, “Only if you’re the one to put the handcuffs on me.”

Half an hour later, as Dan was carted off to Arkham, he couldn’t help but curse to himself, glaring at the head cuffs on his wrists.

How come no one told him that pretty, good boys were his one and only weakness?!

[bestanimal]

Round 3 - Reptilia - Cuculiformes

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Our next order of birds are the Cuculiformes, commonly called “cuckoos”. Cuculiformes contains one living family, Cuculidae, and 33 genera.

Cuckoos are generally medium-sized, slender, intelligent birds. Most live in trees, though some are primarily ground-dwelling. They feed on insects, insect larvae, and a variety of other animals, as well as fruit. Their feet are zygodactyl, meaning that the two inner toes point forward and the two outer backward. Arboreal species tend to be more slender have short tarsi, while terrestrial species are more heavy set and have longer tarsi for running. Almost all cuckoos have long tales that are used for steering during either flying or running. Some species have cryptic plumage, while others have bright, elaborate, or iridescent plumage. They live all over the world’s continents except Antarctica, in habitats ranging from rainforest to desert. Some are migratory.

Most cuckoos are monogamous, though exceptions exist. Cuckoos are usually solitary, and only some species can be found in pairs or groups. However, during the breeding season a pair will spend time together, sometimes bringing each other gifts of insects or fruit. Some species of cuckoo are brood parasites. Brood parasites will lay their eggs in the nests of other birds, in some cases while the male distracts the host parents. Their eggs sometimes look similar to the eggs of their chosen hosts, though they usually have thicker and stronger shells. This protects the egg if a host parent tries to damage it. The cuckoo egg hatches earlier than the host eggs, and the cuckoo chick grows faster; in most cases, the chick instinctively evicts the eggs and/or young of the host species. In some species the cuckoo chick does not harm the other eggs or chicks intentionally, but will outcompete them for food. However, the majority of cuckoo species are not brood parasites, and their nests vary in shape from shallow platforms of twigs, to globular or domed nests of grasses, to saucers or bowls on the ground, to simply being laid directly on the ground. Non-parasitic species lay white eggs, and both male and female are usually involved in care of the eggs and chick. The young of all species are altricial, born weak and featherless, though non-parasitic cuckoos leave the nest before they can fly.

Cuculiformes are part of the clade Otidimorphae, which also includes the Musophagiformes (turacos) and Otidiformes (bustards). Otidimorphs arose in the Eocene, around 34 million years ago. One of the oldest known cuckoos is Dynamopterus velox from the Oligocene.

Propaganda under the cut:

While most species of cuckoo are solitary and secretive, the Anis (genus Crotophaga) (image 4) tend to be the exception to this rule. They live and nest communally, with a large nest being built by several pairs in which a number of females lay their eggs and then share incubation, feeding, and territorial defense duties. They also tend to be extremely trusting and friendly towards humans and other species.

Many cuckoos will eat the noxious, hairy caterpillars avoided by other birds. They can do this by rubbing the caterpillar back and forth on a branch to rub off their venomous hairs, and then crushing it with special bony plates in the back of their mouth.

The smallest cuckoo is the Little Bronze Cuckoo (Chalcites minutillus) which is 15-16 cm (5.9-6.3 in) long and weighs 14.5-17 grams (0.51-0.60 oz). It feeds on insects and while it usually hunts alone, it has often been seen hunting in groups of up to 5 birds.

Meanwhile, the Channel-billed Cuckoo (Scythrops novaehollandiae) is the largest living cuckoo, at 56–70 cm (22–28 in) long, with a 88–107 cm (35–42 in) wingspan, and weighing between 560–935 g (1.2–2 lb). The Channel-billed Cuckoo is a brood parasite, and also the largest brood parasite in the world. They parasitize the nests of larger Australian birds, such as ravens (genus Corvus), currawongs (genus Strepera), and butcherbirds (family Artamidae).

The fastest cuckoos are the Roadrunners (genus Geococcyx) (see gif above), which have been recorded running at 32 km/h (20 mph).

The Black Coucal (Centropus grillii) is unique among cuckoos for being polyandrous, with males tending to the nests while the larger female patrols the territory. A female’s territory can contain several nests with a different male at each nest, and males will often adopt the eggs and chicks of other males.

Cuckoos are a heavily present symbol in many human cultures. In Ancient Greek mythology, the god Zeus transformed himself into a cuckoo so that he could seduce the goddess Hera, to whom the bird was sacred (women in Ancient Greek mythology were frequently attracted to birds.) Three sacred cuckoos appear in the Finnish epic the Kalevala, connected to the death of a young girl who was being forced into marriage. In India, cuckoos are sacred to Kamadeva, the god of desire and longing, whereas in Japan, the cuckoo symbolises unrequited love. Cuckoos are a sacred animal to the Bon religion of Tibet. In Germany, a cuckoo clock is a classic pendulum-driven clock that mimics the call of a Common Cuckoo (Cuculus canorus) (image 2), complete with an automated cuckoo bird that moves with each note. Additionally, the brood parasitism of some cuckoo species gave rise to the term "cuckold", referring to the husband of an adulterous wife.

[phoenixyfriend]

Was chatting about good alternate Cody&Obi-Wan dynamics with @threebea, and one of them we just had a lot of fun with.

Bea:

Cody: We are doing a good job at war. Are you proud general. Obi-Wan: [grump in CW '03] Cody being in a lacky position is very funny to me, if that makes sense. Cody: The boss will surely promote me. Obi-Wan: You're diligent and thorough but we cannot save supplies by powering this with my lightsaber that is not happening. I have always considered that of the two of them, Cody is the reckless hot-blooded one and Rex is the level-headed one. (Obi-Wan's view skewed however having raised one Anakin Skywalker making Cody kicking droids seem very reasonable and thought out.)

Here were my options for Cody and Obi dynamics:

Obi-Wan treating Cody the way he treats Anakin, early on in their working relationship, tentative but working on that angle because those two are the same age and rank so like. Cody might really be as much of a Dumb Young Man as most young men are, yes?

Obi-Wan treating Cody with a hands-off approach because the guy can manage the army while Obi-Wan runs off to stab the Count, right?

Obi-Wan treating Cody kinda coldly because his instinct is to be very delicate and nice to these traumatized young men, but they don't like it when he does that, so he has to be standoffish because otherwise he'll start babying them because they're barely any older than Anakin was when he got his boy.

Obi-Wan treating Cody as a Research Assistant because he's a nerd and sometimes padawans would be assigned to him in the archives, and Cody hovers behind his shoulder the way those students did so he just got distracted and started giving Research Guy orders instead of High General orders.

Aaaaaanyway we got in on that last one.

Obi-Wan definitely had to call him Padawan at least once Cody: ... [Looks around nope just him]

Cody: I expected to be mistaken for my brothers due to our faces. I did not expect to be mistaken for... Anakin Skywalker? Did I get that right?

Rex: My general called me mom once. I think he was joking? but I'm not sure.

One day, Cody has to come into the Temple for some professional reason, is told that Obi-Wan is in the archives, and walks into the sight of Obi-Wan wandering the stacks with several teenagers following him like ducklings, giving instructions with just "Padawan, could you grab that one?"

When Cody asks how they know which one he means, they tell him they don't. They just go with whoever's nearest the given task.

Cody: But he doesn't do this to any other clone [he does] Rex: You stand just behind his shoulder handing him files all day.

You Are Doing The Padawan Thing

Cody initially worried because implied Obi-Wan thinks of him as a student/not fully ready for the responsibility of being a commander or whatever. Obi-Wan: ? No I just… You're Padawan shaped. I can't explain it any better than that Cody gets it the most because he happens to stand exactly where Anakin used to stand the most often. Ironically, Obi-Wan tries hard to call Anakin by his name as a respect to his no longer being a student thing. Cody is firm about military discipline calling Obi-Wan sir and General because if he called him Master Kenobi or Obi-Wan the 'mistaken for Padawan' thing would happen three times as often. Cody: [grumbles] Alpha-17 didn't have this problem. Rex: Alpha-17 drew a line between himself and the Padawan day one to avoid it I think.

Alpha also has been acting like a middle-aged man since he was five. The disdain. Dripping.

Which actually didn't save him he was just more openly insulted when it happened once so Obi-Wan made sure never to do it again. Alpha: I was trained by Jango Fett himself and have proven myself a full fledged captain. I am not a Padawan :/ Obi-Wan: [listening to the speech] noted Cody: [far too polite to ever correct Obi-Wan] What did you need, General? Probably reinforced Alpha acting like an old man. I think he even calls Anakin kid? Anakin: I'm older than you you're the kid 😦 Obi-Wan: Padawan don't argue with the captain. I need a five times Obi-Wan called Cody Padawan (and one time when it was Alpha-17) fic now lol

Anakin: Why does he get away with-- Obi-Wan: Because I feel that if I call him Padawan by accident again, he may break something. And we don't have the funds for that.

Anakin: [in the room once but realizes Obi-Wan was taking to Cody] Anakin: Am I jealous by rival son/Padawan or am I amused that Obi-Wan is going senile?

"my baby boy" vs "generic younger person whom I feel some fondness for"

It's like. Old southern men who refer to anyone younger than them as "son" or "miss."

Obi-Wan: It's even gender neutral I don't have to remember names at all. Obi-Wan also probably called Ahsoka 'Anakin' a number of times, but that's due more to the A name combined with her jumping off something a Padawan should not be jumping off of. He mostly defaults to Padawan but a scolding 'Anakin! No!' Comes out every now and then for her. Obi-Wan: Anakin! No! Anakin, beside him: What? Obi-Wan: ...Sorry, force of habit. Ahsoka! No!

[stardust-kenobi]

The Wrong Ingredient

Severus Snape x Fem!Reader

Summary: As a teaching assistant at Hogwarts, working on creating a new calming draught seemed to be a straightforward task. However, when you accidentally use the wrong ingredient, Professor Snape is more than willing to help alleviate the effects.

Word count: 4k

Warning: smut, fingering, piv, sex pollen (my fav), sort-of teacher/student relationship (reader is 2 years post graduation), mild DUB CON

A/N: Apologies to my followers who are not interested in Harry Potter content. This is my first (and potentially only) fic I am writing for Harry Potter, I just have had an insane infatuation with Severus Snape this week and I just had to write this to get it off my mind lol. Feel free to disregard :)

Read on AO3

The roaring of the snowstorm grew louder by the moment as you tried so desperately to focus on perfecting the potions assignment for the Professor. You were distracted by the storm, entranced by the blanket of white that coated the roof and distant hills. With the halls of Hogwarts empty for the Holiday break, you felt an even deeper appreciation for the warmth and coziness inside the castle.

As a recent graduate of Hogwarts who was now assigned to be a teaching assistant in your second year after graduation, part of your job was helping the professors with their lesson plans. Even if that meant sacrificing part of your holiday break spending the day alone…with Professor Snape. Persistent footsteps approached you, entering the classroom, followed by the sound of a slamming door. You jolted in your seat. 

“Any progress?” Professor Snape asked blankly.

During your studies at Hogwarts, you were always fond of Professor Snape. He was cold and stern, something that usually would have made you weary of a person, but there was something about his demeanor and the way he cared for you that created a soft spot for him in your heart. You had to admit, though, he was hard to talk to at times. He was not a man for many words, so even though you enjoyed him as a professor, there was a bit of unexpected tension being alone with him. You could not deny, though, that you found him to be extremely attractive. 

You sighed and hesitated to look back at him. Snape will be disappointed in your response. 

“Unfortunately, no” you breathed. 

“Pity” He scoffed, but ended with the faintest smirk. He was hard on you the same as he was when he was your professor, but he made some fun of it every now and then.

“Sorry, Professor Snape. I just don’t think these ingredients will work” 

“It’s experimental, Y/N, we won’t know until it is done” He shrugged. 

You were working on a high-intensity calming draught. A harmless potion that many wizards and witches could find great use in, especially during high-stress situations. The ingredients were simple, but they just didn’t make sense to you. 

Lavender, crocodile heart, rose petals, and peppermint. 

You read the list back to yourself several times. You weren’t getting the reaction you’d hoped for inside the simmering pot, and the ingredients weren’t behaving as you’d expected as you followed the procedure you were familiar with.

“Sometimes the best way to test potions is to try them yourself” Snape spoke with a condescending tone as he noticed your hesitation. 

“Are you suggesting I just drink this myself and see if it works?” You reiterated and trailed with a light chuckle.

“If you won’t, I will” He shrugged and smirked back at you from across the room. Professor Snape was professional, of course, but he was right. Sometimes trial and error is the quickest way to test potions. The ingredients were simple, so the chance of them causing any harm was…potentially slim. 

The day was long and you had grown tired of staring into the stirring liquid.

Fine, you thought, what is the worst that could happen?

You poured the purple-hued brew into the glass in front of you. Without thinking too much more about it, you threw back the potion, letting it trickle down your throat. It was potent, minty, and slightly earthy. Not the worst potion you’d tasted…but not the best either.

Your face twisted in uncertainty for the flavor.

Snape held his eyes to the book in front of him as he sat at his desk across the room. He was wildly uninterested in the reaction or the success of the potion you’d brewed. He had more important things to handle, and an experimental calming draught for a future lesson plan was low on his priority list, so of course, that means you were the one to take on the task.

You waited for a reaction.

And waited.

Nothing. You felt nothing. 

Just before you were going to give up and accept the defeat, you actually began to feel something. It was warm and fuzzy, laced in your veins and flowed slowly up your arms. 

Perhaps this is the beginning of the calming effects, you thought. 

The warmth felt funny as it seeped deeper into your bloodstream. Before you knew it, each of your extremities flowed hot with its calming effects. But there was something else. Something you’d never felt from a potion before. A tingling and most desperate sensation found its way between your legs. 

“P-Professor?” You struggled to call out to him, suddenly weary of how you were beginning to feel. You swallowed hard. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He called back, his eyes still glued to the book.

“Are there any…similar potions that I could have accidentally created instead of the calming draught?”

He looked up suddenly. 

“No, there is-....” Snape stopped mid-sentence, setting the book down gently, “Well perhaps, but you would know the difference between peppermint and spearmint”

You looked down at the extra green leaves that remained unused near the pot. You had collected this from a different area of the field than normal, but it smelled and looked like peppermint, so you did not think twice about it. However, now that he questions it, you worry it was, indeed, something else. 

“Let's just say maybe I didn’t, though. If I accidentally used spearmint, what would that mean?” You countered nervously.

His eyes grew wide for a moment. 

“Show me the plant” He insisted. Snape quickly rose from his seat and walked over to your desk. 

You showed him the green leaves you believed to be peppermint. He towered over you.

“It's peppermint, right?” You asked wearily, looking up to him. His furrowed brows revealed his concern.

“No. This is certainly spearmint” He pressed his lips tightly together and twisted the stem between his fingers. 

Your heart sank. What had you done?

“What… what did I brew, then?” You asked cautiously. 

Snape appeared more worrisome and now even a bit uncomfortable. 

“What do you feel?” He asked slowly and cautiously rather than answering your question.

You were hesitant to tell the truth and he could sense it. 

“I feel very warm… and quite…um” You trailed off as you felt your heart beating a hundred miles an hour. Suddenly you felt a raging sense of attraction to his natural musk and cologne. God, was he always so breathtaking?

“Aroused?” He questioned. 

“Yes”. You squeezed your eyes shut. Your cheeks rushed with blood as your response was trailed by a muffled moan. You were embarrassed to admit feeling this way in front of Professor Snape, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. And to hear your professor of many years, and now your colleague, ask you if you felt any sense of sexual arousal made you excited, too. 

“I feared as much” He turned away slowly, bringing his hand to cover his mouth. 

“Professor wha-”

“Quiet. Give me a moment to think” Snape demanded. He paced the room slowly. 

It grew more intense with each passing second. The tingling created a sensitivity upon the surface of your skin. You grazed your arm with your fingertips and chills shot down your spine. 

You clenched your thighs together as your arousal intensified. The professor turned around at this same moment, and let his eyes catch sight of your discomfort. 

He looks good today, you thought to yourself. His jet-black hair fell so beautifully atop his shoulders, and his dark attire somehow never looked better than it did right now with the way it draped down the length of his body. 

“You’ve created something that many have experimented with in the past, but… it's not well documented. It’s dangerous. Think similar to a love potion, however…much more potent” Snape explained, ending his pacing right at your desk once again. His emphasis toward the end was all you needed to hear.  You could tell he was attempting to maintain his composure but you could also sense he was on edge.

“Oh, God” You cried, lowering your head to look down at your feet, “What do I do, Professor?” You begged. Your fists clenched the edges of the table. You needed a release. Or an antidote. “What is the recipe for the antidote?” 

Truly, you wanted the release. Your staff dormitory was nearby, just right down the hall, you could take care of this quickly. Snape looked around, ensuring you were both alone, then used a quick flick of his wand to close the shutters on the windows. It was dimly lit in the classroom now with only the light of many candles illuminating each corner of the room. It was…romantic. Most everyone in the castle was gone. Any remaining professors were locked away in their offices, and the students were well on their way home by now. 

“There isn’t one” He stated firmly. The warm amber luminescence glowed so beautifully upon his skin. 

The effects of the accidental potion were nearing unbearable, now. Every fiber of your being ached so desperately to be touched. 

“Fuck…I…I need” You breathed heavily, clenching your lower belly as your arousal pooled itself between your legs. Your cunt begged you for something…anything. You’d never cussed in front of Professor Snape before, but he could feel the urgency in your voice.

“You must relieve it” He snapped. Frustrated with the decision he knew was about to have to make.

“Severus…” You begged desperately, using his first name for the first time ever. You weren’t even sure what you were begging him for. 

“I must speak bluntly, Ms. Y/L/N, so listen carefully. You are no longer my student. I am not your professor. But this must happen in order to save you.” He began frantically, checking again to make sure the doors were locked. His clarification of your relationship with one another seemed to be more of a reminder for himself than for you. 

“Save me? Christ, will this kill me?” You cried out.

“Yes. If your body is not brought to orgasm several times, it will begin to affect the very core of your nervous system. There is no other way to stop it.” He explained. Hearing him talk about orgasms was unexpected but it aroused you.

Dammit, you thought, can’t he just fuck me? 

No. No matter how much you wanted him right now, you did not want to put him in that position. 

“Okay, I will…I will go back to my room now” You managed to say. He sighed in anticipation of what he would say next. 

“You can’t do it yourself” He began, his voice faltering as he failed to make eye contact with you, “It has to be another person”.

Snape knew exactly what had to be done. The moment he saw the spearmint you placed in his hand, he knew. 

Suddenly, your legs trembled beneath you and your knees buckled. As you felt yourself fall, Professor Snape quickly caught you. His arms wrapped beneath your arms and he lifted you up onto the desk. You whimpered in reaction to this contact against your skin. It was…electrifying, but you were running out of time. Your body was running hotter by the second. In a feeble attempt to cool yourself, you peeled the robe from your shoulder. 

“Please” You begged, gesturing to the fabric that held you hostage in your misery. 

“I-” Snape began, reaching to grab your robe. His eyes searched yours for uncertainty but found none. The expression he held revealed what he couldn’t say. He wanted you. He wanted to help in more ways than one. But no matter what he told himself, he couldn’t help but feel that it was wrong. 

While you squirmed on the table, you watched as Professor Snape eyed the remaining liquid in the cauldron. It was only a few drops, but it was enough to at least bring a man to his knees for a woman begging him to fuck her. But he didn’t need it in order to want you. Snape needed it to convince himself it wasn’t wrong. 

He breathed out heavily before pouring the few drops into the glass and throwing it back, getting as much as he possibly could. Snape winced at the flavor. 

“Professor…w-what are you doing?” You whimpered through your words. 

“We both took the potion. We thought it was a calming draught, and it wasn’t. And we did what we had to do to treat the effects” He responded quickly as if it was rehearsed. You knew what he was insinuating. If anyone found out, if anyone asked, that’s what happened. If Snape was under the effects of this potion too, he would need his release, same as you. With only a few drops, It would be less intense for him, so he could better handle himself. 

“If you’ll allow me, I will help you, my dear” He whispered as he came closer to you propped on the table, holding his face close to yours, speaking sensually against your lips. In one swift motion, he pulled the black robe off your shoulders, letting it rest on the table, leaving you in your sweater and mini skirt. 

Before you could even finish your nod of approval, the hem of your skirt was being pulled up frantically, followed by his wandering fingers that stopped just at the hem of your panties. You were practically dripping and he could feel it. 

“Oh darling” He groaned, standing between your open legs and pressing his lips against your ear. Every hair on your body stood up when he finally got this close to you, “You are so wet for me” 

You rolled your hips against his hovering fingertips. As you looked down, you faintly noticed the bulge that grew in his pants. You weren’t sure if it was the microdose of the potion, or how arousing it was to be in this situation with you, but it was a most intoxicating sight. You could feel the heat radiating from him and knew that he was fully under the effects of the potion. Not nearly as badly as you, but he was about to lose control.

“Professor Snape, I can’t take it anymore, please” You begged him. You needed something inside of you, now.

“Very well” He smirked subtly as he pulled the soaked fabric to the side and pressed his fingers flush against your clit before rubbing rhythmic circles. 

“Fuck!” You cried out and threw your head back, which was quickly caught by Snape’s hand. He held your head up to meet his gaze. The aching and burning persisted but were soothed slightly once his skin was upon yours. It was a surprise to be so reactive to the faintest of touch, but the angry fever burning your skin was electrified, enhancing every single one of your senses. 

“Look at me, Y/N. Oh, you sound so lovely” His voice was like honey as he talked you through your pleasure, admiring the sounds that flew from your lips.  

You locked your gaze with his and stared deep into him. 

It was overwhelming. All of it. The state of your writhing body. The way he looked towering over you. The feeling of his fingers on your delicate bud. Seeing him in such a vulnerable state, something you’d never thought you’d see in a million years. It was all so incredible and absolutely riveting. You thought you might be dreaming.

Snape’s thumb remained working at your clit while two fingers were suddenly pushed inside your cunt. Your walls clenched around his digits as he began pumping them in and out, curling them with every stroke. 

“You need to come. Come for me” He insisted, knowing that the first orgasm would help begin to subside your symptoms. You could’ve reached your high just from the sound of his voice alone, so you knew you were close already. 

Your mouth fell open as the tightest coil of nerves bundled at your core. Suddenly, without hardly any warning from your own body, your orgasm burst open, radiating and flowing through every fiber of your being. Stars danced in your eyes as the euphoria washed over you. Moaning and profanities filled the air, breathless and aggressive as it took you over. 

“That’s it, my love, just like that” He encouraged you through it, keeping his pace while he fucked you with his fingers. You curled your hips, riding his hand instinctively. You came down so slowly, feeling delirious but still hungry for more. More of him.

His cock was stiffened and strained in his trousers, begging to be released, but not until he ensured you were okay after your first high. You reached for the hem of his pants in desperation. 

“I need it” You struggled to form your words. 

“You need my cock? Is that what you need?” He whispered to you, watching your face twist in pleasure as his fingers curled harder with each thrust. 

“Please, Professor” You begged. There was something so hot about calling him that in this setting. He could never admit it, but he loved it, too. 

“As you wish”

He pulled his fingers from your pussy, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. You whined at the loss.

He watched you struggle to remove your sweater and glided his hands up the side of your body to help pull it over your head, which revealed you wore no bra underneath. Snape growled lowly in approval of the sight. Your bare breasts glistened with sweat under the candlelight. He delicately trailed his fingers down the front of your body, circling your stiffened nipples along the way.

For the first time, he kissed you. His supple lips pressed firmly into yours, adding another layer of intimacy you were not expecting. You moaned into him, feeling his hands cup your burning cheeks as he pulled you into him. As you sat at the edge of the table with Snape positioned between your legs, you felt him shuffle with the clasp of his pants. 

Excitedly, you pulled away from the kiss to see his impressive length released from its restraints. Your thighs clenched together at the sight, which caused you to moan. You could see it on his face, he was burning with the same passion, but he was nervous. Maybe with less of the potency of your accidental creation, you would have had the luxury of anxiety, but not in this state. 

“Are you doing alright?” He asked you, one hand on the back of your neck, forcing your gaze onto him, and the other grasping the base of his cock, ready to give you exactly what you needed. What he needed. 

“More than alright” You breathed. 

“Good” He smiled back at you. You realized in this moment that he’d never fully smiled at you before, and it warmed your heart. 

Hurriedly, he yanked your panties off your body, throwing them to the ground. He pushed up your skirt, making sure it was out of the way. Ever-so-conveniently, the table was at his hips’ level, putting his cock at the perfect height.

He plunged into you, hard. A strangled, choked whimper caught in your throat as you felt overwhelmed with the fullness. Professor Snape sucked in a sharp breath, pleased with how you wrapped around his cock so perfectly. 

“Oh my God” You cried out as he began thrusting slowly, allowing you to adjust to him. It could not last long though, because Snape could feel the animalistic urges overcoming him. 

“Oh, fuck” He groaned deeply, staring down to where his cock disappeared inside of you. 

Something unraveled within Snape. His cautious demeanor was long gone. His brows furrowed into almost an angry expression as he snapped his hips passionately, fucking you hard and ruthlessly now. Your whole body tingled and spasmed in reaction to each thrust. His cock stretched you so wonderfully, and he was intoxicated by the way you took him. Like you were made for him. His hands gripped both sides of your waist, using your curves as leverage to go deeper. 

“You take my cock so well, darling” He praised, increasing his pace.

“It feels s-so fucking good, Professor. I’m going to come again, please…don’t s-s-stop” You stuttered, tripping over your own words as you felt drunk off the pleasure. With the rise of your next orgasm came the subsiding of the heat that coursed through your veins. 

“My pretty little whore, come on my cock” He growled, angling his hips at a deeper angle so that his cock brushed your most sensitive area with each thrust. 

It came over you again so suddenly, sending your body into a pleasurable convulsion. Snape pushed you backward, laying you flat on your back atop the table, and wrapped his fist around your throat. The pressure against your neck made your mind go fuzzy as you rode the high of your second orgasm. 

It felt…otherworldly. Like nothing you could’ve ever imagined. He faltered none in his thrusts as you floated through such indescribable euphoria. As you came back to what felt like reality, you opened your eyes to see Snape admiring you in your most vulnerable state, continuously taking his cock like you were made for it. 

Just one more. You only needed one more. You could feel it. One more orgasm would treat these effects. The only problem was, your body was weakening, and you weren’t sure if you could take it.

“One more, darling. Just one more” He breathed through his moans.

“I-I can’t” You cried. 

“You can. You must, Y/N.” He reminded you with encouragement, “Be a good girl and give me one more”

You nodded weakly. While he fucked you hard, he brought his fingers up to your swollen clit to bring you to your third release. You spasmed beneath his touch. It felt so good. Too good. You squirmed involuntarily, but Snape was not having it. He pulled his length out of you and quickly turned you around, bending you forward to press your face into the table. 

Before you could even process what was happening, he sunk himself back into you from behind and resumed his relentless thrusts. He could hold you down better in this position. He was more in control. 

Even quicker than the first two, your third orgasm unleashed itself upon your body. You writhed and cried out his name, mixed with other profanities as it washed over you. You had an unfamiliar feeling coiling in your lower belly. Before you knew it was even happening, you were squirting through your orgasm, something that had never happened before.  Snape groaned lowly in approval. 

This orgasm was followed by an icy flush that mixed with your blood, taking the burning sensation away completely. It was an ultimate feeling of relief. The pleasure was so intense, a stray tear trickled down your cheek.

“I am close” Professor Snape muttered.

“Come inside me, professor” You whimpered, sending him over the edge instantly.

His thrusts faltered and slowed as a warmth spilled deep inside your walls, coating your cunt completely. Snape bent over to press his chest into your back as he caught his breath. You both were slowly coming down from not only your release, but from the effects of the potion. You expected to feel shame or embarrassment, but neither occurred. 

He was careful pulling out of you, knowing how weak your legs probably were. You tried to catch your breath as he offered his hand, helping you to your seat near the table. 

Without another word, he helped you back into your sweater to allow you to regain your decency as soon as you could. It was hard to process what had just happened, but you truly did not regret even a single second of it. 

“I am sorry for what had to happen, Ms. Y/L/N” Professor Snape said as he kneeled down to look at you. His eyes looked sorrowful and full of guilt, like he blamed himself for what happened. It broke your heart to think he felt this way. You enjoyed this and you know he did too. 

You smiled and held a sleepy expression as you giggled and shook your head. 

“I’m not” You confidently responded.

The same smile you saw for the first time earlier returned to his lips.

“Good” He muttered. 

——-

Please forgive any canon inconsistencies. This was entirely self-indulgent lmaooo. Obviously this potion does not exist and I made it up based on actual calming draught ingredients!

[bamsara]

I dont know if it was intentional but I love that Narinder when he sees Lamb throwing up he turns gentle and pushes their wool and ears back so they dont get stained with vomit and for some reason it reminded me of how when Nari was throwing up too after the nightmare he had when they were on route to fight Leshy, Lambert helped him with camellias for the nausea.

Ahh, parallels. I think.

IM SO GLAD YOU POINTED THAT OUT allow me to ramble for just a moment.

Narinder was trapped in the Afterlife for over 1000 years, with little social skills and plagued by wishing for vengeance and his only company being two kittens who become disciples under his rule. He has terrible social skills, if not lacking them entirely.

(I would argue that Aym and Baal also have horrific nonexistent social skills, so those three cat's can't really help each other communicate properly to anyone else outside themselves.)

It can be argued that since The One Who Waits had other vessels to pass time and try to kill /annoy his siblings before the prophesized Lamb arrival, that he would have developed them a little bit more, but I would argue that the power balance would have been oodles more severe since the vessels weren't the promised one. He didn't need them, so if they no longer were of service or disobeyed him, he got rid of them. Whether just sending them out or killing them, any how.

Lamb, however, knows they are the last Lamb, the prophesized liberator of The One Who Waits, and therefore his only option. They knew that they were his only reasonable way out of there (whether they asked for it or not) so they were oodles more comfortable than how a professional relationship would have been.

So they asked questions, bothered him, played and ran around him. Complained and vented to him. Yapped and yapped. What is he gonna do? Kill them? Find a new vessel? He can't. "You're as trapped into this prophecy as much as I am, so let's be friends"

Example parts from Chapter 3:

The power balance equalizes because Lamb did not see his presence a God, but rather a fellow prisoner and victim of fate. Rude and demanding, but in the same chains as they were. 'My lord' was simply formalities at first.

This puts Narinder / The One Who Waits in social situations he hasn't been in (or hardly been in) in over a thousand years, and frankly, he had no idea how to navigate them:

Example from Chapter 5:

The God of Death has not needed to comfort or 'be there' for someone in a long, long time. The Lamb's presence is what forces him to try, even if his first attempt aren't perfect. So in that same chapter, he'll ask them a question to distract them. Conversation. Like how they do it.

While I won't post a screenshot of everytime this happens in written format (not including the dreams/memories/flashbacks that haven't been posted yet)-

The One Who Waits is pushed outside of his bubble when it comes to socializing in a way that isn't just 'God-to-Lowly-Vessal' format. He has to talk to them like a person, because he's being talked to like a person, not a god on a pedestal.

Obviously after the final battle and betrayal (to both of them, otherwise known as the Grand Miscommunication) this means nothing for a while as tempers are still high and feelings are hurt. But overtime, this returns, and can show in small ways (ways that may not seem like comfort but is certainly an attempt) like just in Chapter 18:

Trying to bring them an 'offering' (breakfast) mirroring other times the Lamb has done the same for him:

Crudely offering to replace something they are upset at losing/later offering reassurance abet in a curt way:

And what you mentioned: earlier when the Lamb is throwing up, narration shows they're having trouble with keeping their wool, cloak, bell, ect all back at the same time. He can see that. He has a mental boiling pot explosion over the fact that helping them is even a want that he has after the denial crisis he's experiencing where the only answer a minute ago seemed like he needed to kill them, and he chose comfort.

It is intentional. Narinder is learning how to show care, and allowing himself to show care. Slowly, and not perfect, but learning.

[spicedcherrylolli]

Modern!Sevika x Bookworm!reader - The Ex

This is something I have been thinking about a lot recently. I will admit I am projecting my own personal need for Sevika. Hope you all enjoy Sevika getting a little jealous, I know I did!❤️

-Cherry

p.s. I suck at titles. If you have any tips, please help a women lover out 😘

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Sevika isn’t the PDA type. She likes her time holding, touching, and kissing you to be in private. It was something that you didn’t mind if you were being honest. It was not necessary for you and after getting to know Sevika more, the more you understood and accepted her quirks. As she did with you. So that’s why, you’re currently looking at Sevika like the world stopped in its axis.

🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧

It had been a slightly above average day. You and Sevika were off work/school and decided to have a day out, thrifting, trying new and old coffee spots, and most exciting to you, book shopping. It had been months since you had the chance to go shop around. I was also exciting because Sevika was there. Sevika stood there, followed you around, carrying all the books you want, and listening to every summery you gave and a nod when pointing out ones you’ve read.

“Oh, and I read this series. The first book is so good, but the second got so slow and the romance didn’t develop like i wanted to. And then I had to DNF the last, cuz it was just so so bad” You speak softly to Sevika, her nodding and following you as you move down the aisle.

Sevika loves coming to the bookstore with you. You are in your element, bright eyes, soft voice, and she can feel the excited calm radiating from you. She would never admit how much seeing this part of you made her love you so much more. She held the basket with pride and took in everything you said, sorting and storing the knowledge in the back of her head, (and sometimes her phone) for gift ideas. She might hate the whole PDA thing, but to her, this is basically the same thing. Being there for her girl and buying whatever books you wanted was telling the world you are hers.

“I think I’ll get this one.” you pause, “Oh wait I think I saw the special edition over there, I’ll be right back.”

Turning and walking away, Sevika stands in the romance section. Feeling eyes on her, she turns her head to see a face she wanted to punch maybe severely hurt.

Here’s the thing, Sevika isn’t the jealous type. She knows and trusts she has you and nothing could take that away other than her own actions. However, Sevika had heard much about your ex. The individual that hurt you countless times and broke your trust equally so. It was something therapy and Sevika’s reassuring mannerisms has helped you overcome for the most part. But not for your girlfriend. Making eye contact with them, she pushed her feet forward, ready to tell them off.

“Vika, -” You interrupt, “sorry I got distracted. They had two different special editions of the same book can you bel-” you were cut off by Sevika grabbing your hips, pulling you close, basket now on the floor and kissing you. Hands moving up and cupping your face to kiss you deeper. It was taking your breath way and simultaneously making you worried your girlfriend was having some health episode. Pulling away slowly, confusion and awe written on your face.

“What was that for?” You ask slightly out of breath. Picking up the basket beside her, she looks around, seeing the ex is gone, and turns back to you.

“No reason, I can’t just kiss my girl in public?”

Taken aback, “Well of course you can, but you don’t like to”

Sevika chuckled, the hint of a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. "Maybe I’m starting to change my mind," she said, her eyes flicking over to where your ex had been standing moments ago, now gone.

You raised an eyebrow, still processing what just happened. "So... that was because...?"

Her gaze softened as she looked back at you, the playful edge still there but tinged with something serious. "That was reminding me that you're mine. And no one gets what's mine."

She shrugged slightly, as if trying to play it off as nothing, a protectiveness radiating off of her "I’m not jealous, but I’ve got a limit."

Your stomach filled with butterflies, and for a moment, you almost forgot where you were. "Sevika," you started, awe and understanding lingering behind it, her name taking your breath.

She gave you a small smile, one that was equal parts softness and confidence. "I care about you more than you could possibly understand. Now, are you going to grab that special edition or what?" She nudged you lightly, trying to shift the attention away from her unexpected outburst of PDA.

You couldn’t help reciprocating a grin, even as your heart races. Taking the clue, you start browsing again, except this time it was different. The air was charged, you kept bumping into Sevika.

By the time you left the shop, with enough books to keep you occupied for some time, your only thought was Sevika. How you had gotten so lucky to have her and her thinking how lucky she is to have you. You both spend the night in each other’s arms, doing everything to make sure you each knew and felt the love you had for each other.

🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧

[nonsensenook]

Chapter 3.5 | Moment of Respite

Synopsis: In which Bajie kindly gives you some time alone with the Destined One. An optional and indulgent chapter in this unapologetic take on you, the reader, accompanying the Destined One on his journey. 

Word Count: 3,129

Warnings: 18+/Explicit Content/Smut/N.S.F.W, Female Reader

Author’s Note: Though I say unapologetic, I am very much nervously sweating. I will soon find a nice rock to hide under. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3: Link

Ch. 1 - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5

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The snow covered landscape turned to dense forest once again. With Bajie now completing the trio of a group, any sort of affection you showed came sparingly. Whatever you could show comfortably in Bajie’s presence was quick and subtle. It didn’t take long for you to begin struggling with the confines of this restriction. As time went on you would do what you could to distract yourself, but more than once Bajie had caught you staring at the Young Sage. This made the Pig Guai pelt you with seeds while counting how many it took until you were broken from the spell. He had also begun to stack things on you, laughing when his pile would tumble once you were out of your daze. On his less patient days he’d purposely scare you back to reality by shouting loudly near your ear. Even while you were standing he’d find something to hop onto to do this. 

The Destined One wasn’t doing any better. He didn’t seem to fully understand why you were quicker to separate from him in the mornings before Bajie woke up. Sometimes he’d pull you close or try resting his head in your lap, however these moments were quick to end when you moved away after seeing Bajie approach. You saw how this annoyed the Destined One by the way his tail lashed back and forth behind him. Your little explanations didn’t stop that tail of his either. He had recently started to walk away from Bajie mid-conversation to see whatever unimportant task you were up to. This earned him plenty of choice words from Bajie. More often now you would see Bajie knock the Destined One on the head with the back of his rake when he caught his gaze wandering off. Needless to say, Bajie’s temper seemed to be getting shorter these days. 

Tonight, the Destined One had found a suitable cave to set up camp. The half-moon in the sky shined brightly as your group settled down for the night. It was an evening full of unfinished chores. You were doing what you could, having picked up sewing to mend various articles of clothing while the Destined One worked on crafting a new staff. You sat near the fire and worked by its light. Across from you, Bajie stood up and dusted himself off.

“A lovely night like this is meant to be enjoyed with alcohol,” he announced, brushing past you to pick up the spare bottles of brew. “I’m going to finish these off by the waterfall we passed earlier. Do not expect me until morning and do not expect I’ll be sober,” he said with a chuckle. You weren’t really paying attention. The thread wasn’t going through the needle and the dancing firelight wasn’t helping. 

“I said,” Bajie emphasized loudly right next to your ear, making you jump and drop the needle, “I am going and to not expect me till morning.” 

You moved garments aside trying to find the needle with eyes squinting in the firelight. “Yes, yes, we heard you the first time, Bajie. Did you want company?” 

“Not from either of you! I’ve had enough of the two of you to last me several lifetimes.” Bajie began walking down the path through the trees. “If a lovely lady passes by here, send her my way!” he called back. You heard him singing loudly as he walked away, his voice slowly receding until it disappeared in the regular hum of nature around you. 

Thankfully, you found your needle again and managed to successfully thread it. You worked quietly on patching up your clothes. The night was cool, the air was filled with the soft croaking of frogs and crickets in their tunes. The fire next to you crackled softly as you worked. A breeze rustled the trees surrounding your little camp. You paused for a moment to listen to the leaves flutter on their branches. Bajie was right, it was a lovely night. You glanced up and saw the Destined One taking apart an old staff to make anew. His gaze was concentrated, you watched for a moment as he extracted the needed materials. You returned to your own work feeling content. 

Being alone with the Destined One had you reminisce on the beginning of the journey. Unlike this comfortable silence, the silences then were awkward and prolonged. Small accidental touches had you apologizing or him stepping back. Though you pride yourself in reading what he means to convey at a glance now, you remembered those perplexing games of charades you used to play with him. Then there was the bathing spring incident. You inwardly cringed. Even with everything you’ve done with him till now, that moment still pulls you back to those same feelings of panic and embarrassment. You shook your head, forcing the memory back to the corners of your mind. Then you felt your body stiffen as you finally realized: You were alone with the Destined One.

You felt a sudden sharp pain on your finger making you inhale through your teeth. You had accidentally poked yourself with the needle. The air around you moved, a pair of strong hands gently held yours open. The Destined One examined your finger closely. It was only a small dot on your index where the skin was barely broken. You looked at his face, his expression was full of focused concern. 

“I’m okay,” you said quietly, not even looking at your hands. He brushed his finger onto yours. Satisfied that you weren’t bleeding, he made to move away. You held onto his sleeve. 

“I-” You began to speak, then felt your mouth dry up. Embarrassment shot through you, quickening your heart and tying your tongue. How depraved were you that you’d jump at this opportunity the moment Bajie stepped away? Pretty depraved, you thought. 

“Could-” you stuttered, trying and failing once again to fully transfer incomplete thoughts from your mind to your mouth. You couldn’t find a way to say you wanted to touch him without sounding perverse. The Destined One looked closely at you. He reached his hand up to brush strands of your hair aside, fishing out a stray leaf. His hand traced along your face, lingering on your cheek. You leaned into his touch, placing your hand over his. You then turned your face to brush your lips against his palm. Usually, this action alone was enough to have him lead the rest of the way, but he made no motion. He simply looked at you with a shadow of amusement on his features. He slowly moved his hand to your chin where he tilted your head upwards to look him in the eyes. This damn monkey. 

As if reading your thoughts, you saw the corner of his lips twitch. You glared at him. He gave an innocent tilt of his head. You could so easily read what he was saying as if he’d whispered it into your ear. All you needed to do was ask.

“Could you please-” you started again, your breath hitching as he brushed his knuckles against the heat of your cheeks. You stared into his eyes. That same look of kindness, that same boundless patience, and something else. Something ravenous, waiting just beneath the surface. You just barely managed to whisper out the next words, “Touch me…” 

The Destined One looked more than pleased as he leaned forward. His lips touched yours in a gentle kiss. His warmth always seemed to envelope you. How long has it been since he’d touched you like this? How long have you wanted this? How long have you needed this? Long enough to know that this wasn’t even nearly enough. Your hands came up to his robe, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss. You sealed your fate in this one bold move. This you knew: The Destined One wasn’t one to abandon something once started. Soon enough, he showed you just how famished he’d been. 

You felt his tongue greedily taste you as his hands traced your frame. You welcomed him to consume you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he sucked on your tongue. You moaned against his mouth as his hands trailed down to grope you in all the right places. He proceeded to lift you up as he trailed kisses and bites from your neck to your chest. He carried you easily into the cave where he held you against its walls. You stood there, your head thrown slightly back as he slowly descended down. His sharp nails snagged and tore at your clothes, still being careful not to push too hard into your soft flesh. 

You felt his hot breath on your chest. His tongue traced the area around your nipples, tasting you. You heard your cries echo in the cave when he began sucking on one while groping and flicking the other. The hand you held against your mouth did little to mask the sounds he pulled from you. He played with you until you were quivering in his hands. Satisfied, he continued trailing his tongue downward. He continued tearing at your clothes to make way for himself. By the time he was kneeling, your clothes were but scraps barely hanging onto your body. 

He slowed down, listening to your small whimpers as he slowly moved his hands up your legs. His nails softly scraped at your skin sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, painfully slowly, he made his way up to your thighs. He stopped just before he reached your entrance. Closing his eyes, he began planting slow, gentle kisses on your inner thighs. Then he opened his mouth and took a bite, making you cry out in surprise. You saw his tail flick behind him. He loved that sound you just made. He cruelly continued to do this, getting so close but never touching you where you wanted most. He took another bite which he licked once he let go. While holding your legs apart, he looked up at you. This Gods damn monkey. Mischievous doesn’t even begin to describe him anymore. 

This was his revenge for all the times you’d pulled away from him before. Knowing he was depriving you on purpose made you stubbornly bite your lip. Yet simply seeing him stare up at you while he traced your inner thigh with his teeth already cracked something in you. Just as you knew what he was doing, he knew what you were thinking. Frustration coursed through your veins as the Destined One watched you in playful amusement. It was unfortunate, you were up against someone who’d never lost a battle. You saw him use his knuckles to hover ever so close to your folds. You watched as he pulled away, then spread out his fingers to show your fluids sticking and dripping down them. You outwardly cursed at him this time. The Destined One wasn't listening, he’d started licking his fingers. You felt your pride and shame crumbling down as you watched him. The last embers of your stubbornness were snuffed out by his tongue.

Your lips quivered as you breathed out your next words. “Please,” you begged, “Please…” Again, you saw that same pleased look on his face. He'd gotten just what he wanted. You threw your head back as his tongue tasted your entrance. You felt his breath pant against you as his hot tongue slid into your pussy. From everything he’d done, there was so much of you for him to hungrily lap up. Your hands went to the fur on his head, gripping them to steady and ground yourself from the stimulation. He pushed his tongue in further, making your grip tighten on him. You felt him slowly traced back to your clit, flicking his tongue against it. You flinched and buckled each time he did this. His tight grip on your thighs held you still as he greedily devoured you. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your shaking legs began to give out from under you. In response, the Destined One placed one leg over his shoulder. 

“Wait-” you cried out more in shock than command. He placed the other leg over too until your whole weight was fully supported by him. This new angle had him reaching deeper into you. With his hands on your waist and forearms resting on your thighs, he began sucking on your clit. You gasped then moaned uncontrollably loudly, pulling hard at his fur. Your twitching legs tried to come together but were held firmly in place by his immeasurable strength as he thoroughly ate you out. Your cries echoed back at you in the cave. You felt something build up, tightening inside of you. You cried out a string of curses as you came hard, your body twitching and convulsing against the cave wall. 

The Destined One slid his tongue against your pussy, lapping you up slowly as he helped you ride out your orgasm. When you settled down, he gently moved your legs from his shoulders. You leaned against the cave wall for support. Out of breath, you watched him wipe his mouth as he took off his robe to lay on the ground. In the dim light of the cave, you drank in the sight of his body. Your eyes stared at his muscles, his lean figure covered in fur, and the veins trailing from his arms to his hands. The Destined One helped you over to his robe where you laid down on your back. 

He hovered over you, admiring the absolute mess he’d made of you. He then went to your neck and started sucking on your skin, one hand reaching to pull down his pants. He tossed them aside. As you twitched below him you felt the tip of his cock brush against your folds, spreading your wetness all over himself. You felt yourself pulsing in anticipation. Your hands went to his chest. You felt hard muscle beneath soft fur as you slid your hands down. You hear his breath catch when you brush along his lower abdomen. Your hands then went to his back where you slowly scraped and pulled at him. He shivered at your touch. As he continued to mark your skin, you felt him start to enter you slowly. You felt his tail wrap around your leg. One of his hands held yours, pinning you down to the ground. His other hand shot up to grip the cave wall. As eased into your soaked pussy, you heard the sound of something cracking above you. 

You let out a low moan as he went deeper, stretching you out, until you had taken him fully. You felt yourself tighten around him as he let out a sigh. Again, you heard that same cracking noise above you, like stones scraping together. He began moving slowly, cautious of you adapting to his size. Your breath was coming up short again. When he quickened his pace, you could not stop the sounds that erupted from you. The Destined One’s breathing was heavy and labored in your ear. You heard more cracking from above as he let out a low, husky moan. You clawed at his back, making him snarl. He let go of the cave wall, scraping his nails down your back as he gripped your hips, digging deeply into your skin. You cried out, arching into him, your chest meeting his as his thrusts came harder. You could only whimper and moan as he pulled you in by your hips to meet each of his thrusts. Growling in your ear, he pulled back, then slammed into you hard. You choked out another cry which became mewling whimpers as he fucked you harder. You were begging for him, but the sounds were indiscernible to your ears. The cave walls had you deafened by your own voice drenched in ecstasy and the sounds of his body slamming into yours. 

You felt yourself tighten up, that same peaking feeling getting closer. Moaning fully into his ear you came again, twitching hard as your pussy tightened around his cock. His thrusts quickened, becoming frantic, desperate. You felt him bite down hard into your shoulder as he came in you. Both his teeth and nails dug deep enough to draw blood, but the pain felt delicious as he twitched and filled you. 

For a moment he stayed still, breathing heavily, then he let go of your shoulder and pulled out of you. His hand unlatched itself from your hip, he moved his arm up to support his weight. The other hand was still firmly holding your own. Both of you were still out of breath as he closed his eyes to rest his head against yours. You reached up to hold his face, giving him a tender kiss. He returned the kiss as you wrapped your arm around his neck. He pulled you up slowly, delicately. You closed your eyes as he carried you out of the cave.

~

In the morning, Bajie returned the way he’d left: singing. True to his word he held many empty jars of drink and walked like a sailor towards where you and the Destined One were having breakfast. Before he’d made it to you two, however, Bajie face-planted into the ground. You heard the distinct sound of him snoring as a jar rolled towards you. The Destined One stood up to carry Bajie over to the light bedding you’d prepared for him. 

The Young Sage then returned to you and pulled you into his lap. The Destined One wrapped his arms around you, tail pleasantly thumping the ground. You leaned into him, feeling your sore body ache. Your clothes just barely hid the bruises and bites he’d left all over your neck and chest. The bite on your shoulder along with the scratches down your back and hips still stung. He’d done well to help tend and clean you up last night. He was initially a bit worried at the wounds you sustained, but you reassured him that he hadn’t hurt you in any way you didn’t want him to. He seemed quite happy to trace over the various marks he’d left on your body afterwards. 

You were glad to take a day off from traveling today. The Destined One still had a staff to remake and you had more clothing to repair. Yes, both were quite reasonable explanations to validate this moment of respite. That and how your legs were fully out of commission. You kept your eyes away from the mound of rock and stone behind the two of you. You hoped that by the time you were on the road again Bajie would be too hungover to ask what happened to the cave. 

[cum-a-calla]

Drive

Roman Roy tasks you with keeping him company on an evening errand.

under the cut: stupid banter, fingerfucking, oral sex, a little affection maybe, fuck you i don’t normally do this, leave me alone

“How much, honey?” Roman asks from the rolled down passenger window. He’s ducked down, eyes lidded, lips curled up in his customary smirk. 

“You wish, loser,” you snort, opening the door to slide in. “Driving yourself tonight, huh? Wowee. Big boy shit.”

“Yeah, fuck you. Buckle up. The only reason you’re even here is because you’re the only thing more annoying than this errand. Need you to distract me from my own misery.” Roman fucks with his phone a moment before tucking it back into his suit jacket. “All right. I already know you’re gunna ask, so, the bluetooth’s yours. Do your worst.”

You make a satisfied little sound as he starts driving, peering over at him in time to catch his smile. He makes a show of rolling his eyes. Within seconds, the car is filled with the sounds of cheesy early-2000s top forty, and Roman groans with displeasure, shooting you the most withered expression as he crinkles his nose. 

“Are you fuckin’ serious right now? This is, fuckin’… this is so ‘shitty frat party’. Just a room full of fuckin’ assholes, several racks of warm Pabst and, like, a two-to-one ratio of sweaty college boys to rich girls cosplaying as scene queens.” Roman laughs then. “I bet you were a scene girl, right? Like, remember those?”

“Yeah, Rome, I remember… um - you know. In, like, freshman year… of high school. MySpace and everything. Even had a Xanga, remember that? Or were you too busy being a really cool, spoiled-rich college kid?”

“High schooler? Gross. Turn this shit off, it’s giving me fuckin’ PSTD flashbacks.”

“No, you relinquished control and now you suffer.” You side-glance at him then, smiling sheepishly as you reach into your bag. “Um… however, I guess - I guess speaking of high school… I figured, we’re on this long drive and all, and… so.”

Roman glances over and watches you pull a joint out of your bag, clumsily rolled and hidden in a plastic capsule. 

“Oh, wow. Uh-oh. Somebody call my mommy, I don’t feel safe anymore.” Roman laughs again, his high-pitched, silly little giggle. It’s so endearing that you laugh, too, a lick of heat making your stomach flutter as his grin shows that canine you love so much. “Oh, man. What am I gunna fuckin’ do with you, delinquent. You absolute pain in my ass. Light her up, let’s fuckin go, let’s… make my car smell.”

You vibrate with pleasure, pulling an old Bic out of your pocket and starting the cherry. Roman pulls a face after he exhales, shaking his head as he hands it back.

“You bring me ragweed? What is this shit, something you rolled yourself from a decades-hidden stash somewhere? You dig this out of an old jacket or something?”

“I took it from your mom’s nightstand when I left her in bed this morning. She’s queer now, and I’m going to be your new stepmommy. Surprise!”

“Real nice. Stop trying to confuse my dick.”

After a while of comfortable silence and passing the joint back and forth, Roman’s fingers settle on your leg, just above the knee. He’s warm and heavy there, the pad of his thumb idly rubbing a soft, soothing little circle. It’s not unwelcome; it feels natural as ever, and you sneak another glance at him in your fuzzy little haze. Lights glance over his features with each passing streetlight, each car and building. His profile is so stark and beautiful. The shape of his brow, the long, elegant line of his nose, his lips. The hollows under his cheekbones look severe in the nicest way. His eyes flicker over to you and he gives you a squeeze. 

“Feels nice, huh?” he asks quietly, making it a point to tap his fingers on your leg. “It’s okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s nice.”

He makes a humming sound and settles his hand higher, fingers tickling along your inner thigh. 

“Did you ever play that game in high school, or - or college, or whatever? ‘Are you nervous?’ And, like, you - y’know, run your hand up their leg, or wherever, and the goal is to try not to bitch out. Sounds stupid now that I’m saying it out loud.”

“Mmm, yes, some of the good ol’ fashioned sexual harassment. Nice. Mutual molestation.” Roman smirks out the windshield. “No, I never played grope-my-friends, you little freak. Too busy groping myself, I guess. That and trying not to bring shame to the Roy name à la a lawsuit. I was a good boy.”

“Sure you were.”

“Okay, attitude. Just because you were getting your ass pinched and borderline felt-up all over the goddamn place. Creature.”

“Oh, it wasn’t - fuck off, it wasn’t like that, I was… I didn’t do anything beyond making out for, like, ever. Relatively speaking.”

“Let me guess,” Roman mumbles, hand sliding up further. He scoffs softly when your legs relax just a bit further apart, subtly encouraging him. Too easy. “You got fingerbanged for the first time in… a car.”

“No,” you say softly. Both of you are being so quiet now, voices hushed under the relaxing drone of his car on the freeway. It’s darker out here, the both of you wrapped in the darkness of the night. There’s the soft glow of his stereo, volume turned lower now, the lights of the dash. His hand keeps moving up - the heel of his palm is ridiculously close to the apex of your thighs, the seam of your crotch. His hand is warm, but your body is warmer. 

“Unbutton.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says, and his voice is tender and amused, riding on an undercurrent of something deeper. Something a little more demanding. He sounds surprised that you’re asking him to repeat himself, and that does something to you, makes your tummy flip and your heart skip. The both of you looking straight ahead, your face burning pink, you unbutton and unzip your jeans, hesitating again before he gives your leg another squeeze—firmer this time. It’s a little clumsy, but you manage to slip them off your hips, and they pool awkwardly around your legs as you sit back in your underwear, thighs bare to his touch now. He looks at you and says nothing, but his expression says it all. The swallow making his throat jump, his dark, lidded eyes and half-smile. He traces his pinky along the edge of your underwear, where the top of your thigh meets your hip. “Feeling nervous?”

“N-no…”

“If you are, the rule is that you have to tell me, remember?”

You hum in the positive, nodding as you watch his hand, watch him reach over against the fabric and drag a single fingertip up the clothed seam of your cunt. 

“Nervous now, sweetheart?”

“No.”

“Tell me about the first time somebody fingerfucked your pussy.”

You open your mouth to say something sarcastic, to balk at his question, but instead, you sit there with your dumb fucking expression, staring out at the black sky with its stars poking through. The longer you stare out that big window at the big, seemingly empty expanse, the more little dots of light seem to appear. Isn’t that funny. Roman’s patient as ever, silent and minding his business watching the road the entire time he traces his fingertip along your panties. It doesn’t take anybody checking to know for sure - the gusset is slowly getting wet, damp under his attentions. But it’s not all that, is it? There’s something here - something about the dynamic between you two, the back and forth. Something. 

“I… was… in a movie theater,” you say, and then a smile splits your lips. You laugh a little, and a glance Roman’s way reveals his own silly little smile. His finger continues its slow, torturous journey, up, down, up, down. 

“Yeah? Fuck, what did you see?”

“God, I don’t know - don’t remember. It was awful. He had no idea what he was doing, and… neither did I. It was shocking how disappointing it was, because… I just…” Roman adds a second fingertip, and the two of them drag slow circles over your clothed clit. You take a moment, and then there it is - your stupid, breathy laugh, pretending he’s not making it worse. Better? Fuck, who knows. “I… I just remember thinking, this is it? This is terrible. I had no idea.”

“Tragic,” Roman mumbles. “Feeling nervous yet?”

“Umm…” Roman pulls the gusset slowly to the side and dips a single fingertip along your naked slit. “Oh - mmm, no… no.”

“No, you’re not nervous, or no, you don’t want this?”

“I’m not nervous,” you whisper.

“Can’t hear ya, honey.”

“I’m not fucking nervous,” you blurt. Roman laughs, a genuine laugh that makes his fingers pause, makes you smile back despite yourself. There you are, leaning back in your seat and turning to gaze on Roman’s wrinkled eyes and silly fucking grin, his teeth as he cackles in the way only he does. Your hips twitch and you look forward again, unwilling to acknowledge it even as you feel Roman turn to glance at you. 

“Good,” he says gently. “So, where was it, then?”

“What?”

Roman’s single fingertip turns into two, and slowly he pushes them inside. It makes you gasp a little, and you pointedly ignore his pleased grin, regardless of how badly you want to look at it, how hot it makes you to imagine tasting it. 

“Where did you first cum with somebody else fingering you?”

“Mmmm… my parent’s couch. Not the same person. Years later, I was -” Roman curves those fingers and gently teases all that tight flesh inside, rubbing, searching. Taking in your reactions, reading your body. Feeling for those little butterfly pulses in your cunt. “I… I was -”

“Uh huh. Focus. First time somebody made you cum with their fingers.”

“I was… 21. Babysitting. He - oh, fuck… he… had my head in his lap, hand in my pants, we were watching something. Kid was - it was my sister, she was little, and… and holed up in my folks’ room. Fuck. Roman -”

“Wow,” Roman intones, the sound of his smirk coloring his voice. “Mommy and Daddy not home, supposed to be babysitting. Cumming on your boyfriend’s fingers - naughty fuckin’ girl. Did you do him, too?”

Roman’s rhythm becomes more focused, then, as though he’s translating your quiet little breaths, the way you hold in your moans and stare out the window, shy, afraid of him seeing you all vulnerable and fucked up like this. You wait a moment and Roman allows the silence to stretch comfortably on, trying not to let on how eager he is to hear you recount your exploits. 

“No. No, just - he just… did me. That night. Fuck,” you gasp, clenching down on his fingers as he strokes a particularly sensitive spot. He zeroes in on it with firm, steady strokes, turning to watch your eyes flutter shut and your head hang back against the headrest, lips parted. You grasp the edge of the seat and he thinks you look so fucking cute this way, all scrunched up at the nose and concentrated, hips rocking so slightly for him. Roman smiles and lets you have it another few moments before pulling his wet fingers out of your body, opting instead to rub your clit in torturously slow circles. You whine a little, shifting as you exhale. 

“Look at you, being spoiled. Lucky thing,” he teases. “What a fucking gentleman, huh?”

“What do you know about being a gentleman, Roman Roy?” You laugh a little, but it comes out breathy, all the poison softened by the undertone of pleasure. Barely a jab at all, merely a…stroke. 

“Got me there. Never was one for valiant pursuits and shit.”

“Well… I like you that way. This way. Whatever.”

“Aww, look at you, getting all tender and cum-dumb. That’s fuckin’ adorable. Tell me more about what you like about me, sweetheart.”

“Fuck off,” you breathe, and Roman’s fingers move just a little faster. God, you’re wet. There’s a thought in the back of your head - what if he just edges you and doesn’t let you finish? It’s enough to make you moan a little, and Roman’s eyebrows go up when he hears it, a dog perking up. 

“Feeling something over there?”

“No.”

“Sure, sure. Yeah, nothing at all. Tell me about… the first time you sucked cock.”

“Mmm-mh, it was bad. Very unsexy.”

“Tell me or I’ll stop.”

“Oh, fuckin’ -” You huff petulantly, nudging against his fingers when he stills them, showing you he means it. “Stop it! I mean - fucking - don’t stop it, like - okay, fine. Please.”

Roman laughs and moves back into that rhythm you seem to like so goddamned much, drinking in that relieved little sigh you make when he’s rubbing your clit again. 

“You’re so fucking easy.”

“And you’re a fucking asshole.” You take a breath and peer at him sidelong, tracing the shape of his profile. Tattooing it on your brain. Thinking briefly about his nose on your clit, the graceful, gorgeous bridge of it slowly sliding against it, instead, his fingers buried in your cunt. It makes you shudder and there’s another moan. “Okay. It - it was, uh… in this. This fucking… alleyway. Behind a local store. He just kind of… sprang it on me, I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t finish him. It was weird and embarrassing.”

“Behind a fucking - okay, wow. That’s… yeah, that’s pretty fucking bad,” he laughs. “Little fuckin’ exhibitionist over here, giving out blowies behind the fuckin’ Safeway or whatever. Slut.”

“Fuck off, I was… curious, and… and - anyway. It took me a long time to figure it out. And an even longer time to be good at it and enjoy it. So, there you go.”

“And now you’re a pro.”

“And now I’m a pro,” you smile. “First time I went down on a girl was nicer, and more fun. Way better.”

Roman’s fingers pick up speed, his dick throbbing in his slacks. You meet his gaze and fuck, you have this soft, coy little fuck-me smile on your lips. He imagines those lips wrapped around his cock, and he also imagines them kissing some pretty girl’s wet, pink pussy, and he clears his throat. He stares again at the road, stroking you just a little faster, now, a little more urgently. 

“It was at a party. I’d always had a crush on her, and - mmm, we were drunk. She came with her boyfriend. He was being a prick, and I told him I was going to steal her and fuck her,” you laugh. “I was just trying to be a jerk, but… later on we decided to sleep together and we started showing each other, um… our bodies, and - and… I said I’d never had sex with a girl before, but always wanted to. She asked if I wanted to right there, and I did. Fuck. She was pretty, soft, responsive. She grabbed my hair.”

“Fuck,” Roman whispers, palming his cock real quick. He rubs it idly through his pants, imagining it. Picturing you making this girl cum on your tongue. He feels like a fucking teenager again, all excited over something so basic as two hot girls eating each other. He feels warm in the face, and if he listens hard, he swears he can hear how wet you are as he touches you.

“She went down on me, too, but I didn’t need her to. Just wanted to make her cum.”

“Did you?” Roman swallows. “Make her cum?”

You nod, eyes half-closed as you rock against his fingers. Pressure builds and grows between your thighs, that familiar tight feeling becoming more urgent. Roman can feel you getting close in the way your breathing starts changing, the way you’re mindlessly grinding back against his slippery fucking fingers. All those desperate, sharp gasps, humming and moaning. Oh, yeah, he’s gunna make you fucking cum. 

“You gunna give it to me? Yeah? You gunna cum for me?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah,” you whimper, and he watches you close your eyes and arch a little, knowing to keep his rhythm, to keep you focused on the molten-hot, glittering stretch to orgasm, your body growing more and more tense. He can see how wet you are through your panties, steals glances at the way his fingers look outlined in that thin cloth. 

“Good. Good fucking girl,” he coos softly. “You’re so pretty like this, you know that?”

Oh - that’s it. You gasp and it washes over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath as it rushes up through your body until you’re seeing white behind the eyes, crashing back down to make your cunt spasm and clench and throb, explosion after explosion so that you’re moaning Roman’s name and bucking against his touch. He doesn’t back down, following the way your body moves - it’s enchanting, how agonized you look. All for him. He did this to you, and after the initial explosion of pleasure, he sinks his fingers back inside and thrusts them into that tight little spot you love so much. The broken way you sob a new moan out makes him want to cum right then and there. Fuck. He murmurs little encouragements, there you go, let me have it, honey, good girl, fuck look at you, look at you cum so hard for me. 

As it dies down, Roman pulls his hand gingerly back and sucks his fingers clean, humming at the way you taste. You look spent as you catch your breath, thighs slack in the seat, underwear soaked through. Face the most gorgeous shade of blush as you lean back and recover. You glance over at him and roll your eyes, smiling and covering your face. 

“Stop. Stop staring at me, I’m all… whatever.”

“You’re ‘all whatever’?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re all fuckin’ hot. Making my dick hurt. It’s honestly super fucking rude of you.”

“Poor Romey.”

“Yeah, poor fuckin’ Romey. Exactly.” Roman presses the heel of his palm against his cock again, feeling his pulse everywhere - in his dick, his chest, the tip of his nose. He reaches over and takes your hand, presses it against the twitching bulge along his inner thigh where it’s trapped and neglected. “Feel this shit? This is your fault. What with your fuckin’ moaning and… fuckin’ lesbian sleepover stories. Fuck.”

You run your fingers teasingly along his length, relishing the stupid little sound he makes when you give it a gentle squeeze. You massage it like that for a couple of minutes, watching his brow knit together, his knuckles going white on the steering wheel. You can tell he’s getting worked up and irritated, and it makes it better, somehow. Makes you breathe a little laugh through your nose, the most gentle scoff. 

“Yeah, you’re all fucked up, aren’t you?”

“No shit, what - what gave it away?” he says dryly, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“You asking for a little handy, Rome?” Your eyes glitter in the dark and his breath catches in his throat for a moment as you gaze at him like that, all fucking pink-cheeked and smirking, your hand so excruciatingly slow as it moves over his cock. “Now who’s being a teenager, huh?”

“Oh, I was thinking… you know, you got me so fucking riled up about all that learning you’ve done perfecting your cocksucking technique, yeah?” Roman takes a hand off the wheel to clumsily undo his slacks, maneuvering them to pull his cock free, and god - he’s so hard, leaking at this point. He takes in the way your smirk seems to melt off your face, eyes trained on him, on how it visibly pulses under your heated gaze. “Time to put your money where your mouth is, sweetheart. Why don’t you show Daddy how good you are at giving road head.” 

For a second, he thinks you’re going to shy away, and there’s a fleeting thrill that shoots all the way down to his fucking balls at the thought of you being a little afraid, a little nervous. Just a little.

But no - there you are, tucking your hair behind your ear, and that innocent little gesture makes him groan before you’ve even touched his naked cock yet. He lifts an arm to allow you down toward his lap, and you give the wet head of his dick a little kiss before working those soft lips around it. Roman moans, eyelids fluttering as he focuses on the road, glancing down to try to catch a glimpse - but it’s just your hair, the back of your head. He can’t really see the action, but, oh, he can feel it. 

You take your time. swirling your tongue around his cockhead, all that sensitive velvety flesh. You run your tongue along the delicate knot just underneath, where the gorgeous flare of his tip bows out, just under his slit. It’s an art - working your way slowly deeper, lower, giving him a couple extra deep strokes into the back of your throat so you can drool over him and lubricate better. It always works - you coat him like that, focusing on developing a rhythm for him. All of him, the column of hot, thick jerk-and-pulse, that slightly sweaty taste of his skin. 

“Oh, fuck… fuuuuck,” he whines, thighs taut with tension. He’s not going to last long. It’s been too much teasing, fingering your little cunt and hearing your little stories, and now you’re making good on your word. Worshiping his cock exactly like he needs you to. Sucking, lapping, licking, gagging. God, he loves that, loves the sound of it when it’s just slightly too much, the sweet little moan you make as it vibrates into his body. He stares at the road, but his brain is on autopilot - all he can focus on is the visceral feeling of you drooling on his balls, the obscene sounds of you sucking and slurping his cock. 

“I - I’m not gunna… god, okay, I’m gunna fucking cum soon, so - uh, fuckin’ - giving you a little - oh, sweet fuckin’ Jesus, wh—”

As soon as he starts to try to warn you about how close he’s getting, you start trying to throat him. The speed doesn’t necessarily change, but you take him harder, deeper, more thoroughly, moaning against all that smooth, rippled cockflesh, enjoying the way he wants to thrust up into your face. You imagine him holding your head down and skullfucking you and another moan vibrates against him, traveling deep into his core.

“Oh my fuckin’ god, I’m… I’m gunna f-fucking cum, holy shit —”

The telltale swell and throb of his cock signals you more than anything. You take it just a bit slower, taking your time to flatten and drag your tongue up the shaft of his cock as he pulses his load in spurts, warm and thick, swallowing as you go. His moans are long, whiny, absolutely erotic. You imagine his face, thinking of the way he has to struggle to keep his eyes on the road, the thrill of it making your cunt clench again. Would he swerve just a little? Are you gunna feel the vibrations of the turtle-bumps on the road as he edges from the lane, trying to keep his cool and focus as he empties into your mouth? He rolls his hips helplessly as you milk the last of it from him, already feeling his dick go soft, refusing to let him out of your mouth til he’s twitching and making the most deliciously pathetic sounds, so overstimulated and sensitive. With a lewd pop, you release him, licking your lips. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Roman sighs, glaring at you with no actual malice. “Didn’t have to… fucking… pull out all the stops, there. I get it, you suck dick.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment. Thank you - and you’re welcome,” you say smugly, smiling. You watch with vague interest as Roman struggles to tuck himself back into his slacks and zip up again, squirming to get comfortable, to get everything situated. He rolls his eyes, but his satisfaction is clear. 

“Almost there,” he says quietly. And, true to his word, within minutes he’s pulling into the mostly-empty parking lot of a huge office building, leaving the car on and pointing at you sternly as he unbuckles. 

“Don’t go running away on me,” he says. 

You watch his confident stride as he straightens his jacket, smooths his fingers through his hair, and then he’s inside. Barely ten minutes go by before he’s striding out of the building with a cardboard box, ostensibly full of documents. He sets it into the backseat, gives it a couple slaps on the top, and gets himself back into the driver’s seat to buckle in. 

“Mission accomplished,” he murmurs, gracing you with a very charming grin. You smile back at him, his silly gestures so infectious and endearing that it makes your heart ache. 

“Mhm. You’re cute, Roman Roy.”

Roman has such a warm expression before he rolls his eyes, so fast and unexpected that you may have imagined it. 

“Yeah, fuck off, whatever. Shut up.”

After he gets back on the freeway, the both of you sated and comfortable, the drone of the car and the comfortable silence starts to lull you into a comfortable half-sleep. You recline the seat a little, turn on the seat warmer. Roman’s hand startles you as it settles on your leg, giving you a gentle rub, a squeeze. He chuckles to himself at your irritation, the almost-embarrassment of how you jumped from surprise. 

“Yeah. Who’s cute now,” he mumbles under his breath. “Gunna take a little nap?”

You hum in the positive, eyelids so heavy. It’s so warm, so comfortable and gentle. It feels good to feel his hand. It feels good to hear the rumble of the wheels on the road, the passing cars sounding so distant somehow. It’s just you and Roman under the night, driving in that blanket of quiet. Safe. 

[hells-wasabii]

I’m shamelessly asking for some Carmilla Carmine x fem!reader where reader gets nearly killed during extermination day, maybe severely hurt kind of thing cuz I’m a sucker for angst

A/N: And I am shamelessly answering this wholeheartedly Can I just say that I love Carmilla?? And one can never have enough angst. I went ahead and decided to make it a drabble

A/n's A/N: I came back after finishing this, i really didn't mean for it to get so long. It's not a drabble anymore, it's a short fic. the word count is nearly three times what i usually allot for my drabbles.

Character: Carmilla

Type: Fic (Carmilla x fem!reader injured during extermination, Angst, Fluff)

All it takes is one second. Time meant everything during the annual extermination. If you drop your guard, let yourself get distracted, it could mean certain death. This was something that Carmilla had been extra diligent in teaching her daughters, and something that she had always reminded you, her love, her heart, of constantly.

You would always offer a soft smile of reassurance, pressing a kiss to the overlord's hand.

But things don't always go as planned, do they?

No one expected to get separated.

There had been an explosion that had taken out most of the city block. Some sinner trying to put up a fight before their inevitable demise, her daughters informed her after the fact. She had found Odette and Clara easily, both on the same side of the blast as she had been, but she had lost sight of you. You hadn't been caught in the blast, she knew that for sure. You were durable enough for something as measly as that to not be of much effect, anyhow.

But the fact that she didn't know where you had gone made her nervous. No one was truly safe during the exterminations, only hellborns and the king.

Her blood ran cold when your scream met her ears, her head snapping in the direction.

No.

Carmilla was in motion before her mind could catch up. The arms dealer instinctively ran through the streets littered with death and destruction, Clara and Odette calling after her. It wasn't like their mother to act so impulsively.

Turning the corner, there you were, lying in a slowly growing pool of blood. The arms dealer deflated upon seeing you in such a state. If only she had gotten here sooner. Luckily, the exorcist has gone. Likely to chase down some other damned soul like an animal, she thought bitterly. Skidding to a stop, she dropped to her knees at your side.

You were in a bad state, disheveled, bruised, bloodied. The worst of it appeared to be a rather large stab wound just above your hip, likely from some sort of spear.

But you were still breathing, nonetheless. You could still be saved. Hope bloomed in Carmilla's chest, as she pushed aside your blouse to better reveal the worst of your injuries.

"Girls," Carmilla called out once she was sure that it was safe for them to follow.

As she checked you for other injuries her daughters knelt by her side.

"Mother, here." Clara sounded as frantic as Carmilla felt. The overlord briefly turned to her daughter, surprised to find her taking off her coat to offer her. "To apply pressure," her daughter clarified. Her heart swelled at the action, accepting the coat and pressing it to your wound.

"Look!" Odette called out, and out of the corner of her eye, Carmilla saw her pointing to the sky. "The angels are retreating!"

"She's right!" Clara chimed in, placing a hand on her mother's shoulder, "We should get her back home, then we can tend to the wound properly."

Carmilla had never felt prouder of her daughters, they truly had grown into exceptional young women. She made a mental note to properly thank the both of them once things had settled.

But home was too far away, they would never make it there before you bled out. Lady luck was on your side as the four of you hadn't been too far from one of their safe houses, however, they needed to move quickly before you lost too much blood.

The next hour and a half were a blur. The moment they had unlocked the door to the safe house the Carmines got to work

Your wounds were cleaned and dressed. Carmilla herself had been the one to wash off the blood and dirt that caked your skin and you were laid up in bed. Odette and Clara had left once they were sure you would recover, choosing to give you and their mother space.

The arms dealer couldn't help feeling partially responsible. She thought if only she had been more diligent, and kept you close to her, maybe you wouldn't be left in such a state. The realization hit her, hard. She could have lost you.

"Carmilla?" your voice pulled the overlord from her thoughts. You were awake! In an instant she was by your side, taking your hand in hers.

"It's okay darling, Everything is alright now." You don't answer, at least not with your words. instead, with a grateful smile turning up the corners of your lips, you gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She couldn't help but return the smile, relieved. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Funny, for a moment there, I thought I'd somehow made it to heaven. Mistook you for an angel," you managed out a strained laugh, though you immediately regretted it when a sharp pain shot through your lower abdomen. Your smile returned, however, as Carmilla couldn't help but roll her eyes. But you had met your mark, the arms dealer finally let the tension leave her body.

"Mi amore."

"Yes, Carmilla?" You at first thought that the arms dealer was going to scold you for making light of the situation. You never would have expected the next words out of her mouth. She breathed out, gaze softening, her request was barely above a whisper.

"Marry me."

[nevieatiny]

Mrs. Park?

Seonghwa x reader

Summary: Maybe there were different ways to help your boyfriend get a refund, but calling him your "husband" made it sound more dramatic, right?

Word count: 1,449

Genre: Pure fluff

You loved your boyfriend more than anything in the world, you really did, however, something that you hated and you mean HATED about him was that sometimes he was way too nice and struggled to speak up for himself.

You've been doing a lot of christmas shopping recently, and because of that he choose the wrong size when he picked a sweater for his mom, he made you promise you would not intervine this time because he was a "grown man who's able to do a refund by himself" so you did try to look around the store in the mean time, however not even the toy section was able to distract you from that feeling of something going wrong or someone being rude to your boyfriend.

you've worked in customer service for several years, you knew all it took was being nice, but at the same time there was people who just hated being there and would mistreat customers just to make them leave, it was ok if someone did that to you, you knew how to defend yourself and speak up, but some people don't.

So after 15 minutes of your boyfriend not coming back you're heading to see how he's doing at the customer service counter, as you approached the only thing you saw was your poor boyfriend tapping his fingers anxiously against the counter, he was all by himself you assumed he was waiting for the customer service rep.

"Before you shush me away" you said as you were approaching him "i just want to see how you're doing so far, i see that no one's here, so i'm guessing great" you patted his but few times before leaning on him, you were waiting for a lame comeback, but all he did was to lean his head on top of yours and let out a long sigh "how do you do this?" "was it that bad?" that's when he took his phone out looking at the time "she's been gone for more than 10 minutes", you didn't knew how to feel, at first you felt bad for him, he seemed almost sad about it, but after that it was pure rage, why would they do that, you get that christmas and new year could be the toughest time of the year for anyone on customer service, it was 11 am but the place was literally empty.

"Do you want me to take over?" you asked while running your fingers through his hair "i really thought i could do this by myself this time" "yeah but to be fair you choose to do this before christmas, everyone is miserable by now and they just want to go home, most likely they would have to work during christmas, that's not an excuse tho" as you were talking to him you saw a young girl approaching, she might not even be 20, she had a frown on her face and rolled her eyes when she saw you, and at that moment you knew what you were dealing with.

"theres nothing we can you because you bought this 2 weeks ago" she threw the sweater and the receipt on the counter not even looking at you, and before your boyfriend took the clothing piece (most likely as a defeat to just leave right after) you spoke "that literally does not make any sense, when we bought that they said we had a month to get a refund if we keep the receipt" she looked at you for a few seconds before trying to respond before you cut her off "you made my husband wait for 10 minutes just to come up with a stupid excuse to make him leave" Seonghwa looked at you with a surprised expression, he knew what you were doing, but that didn't stopped his heart from beating faster and faster, he took a deep breath to calm himself while he pretended to straighten his clothes with his hands, for a moment he looked down at your hand and he thought about grabbing it, but then he remembered you were kinda busy trying to do what he was not able to.

Maybe you were raising your voice too much because a few seconds later an older man dressed in a expensive suit joined her behind the counter "'I'm sorry ma'am, how can i help you today?" this time your boyfriend spoke behind you, giving him the garment "i'm just trying to get a refund, i choose the wrong size" you knew Seonghwa usually avoided conflicts, but the fact that she let him just waiting like a fool standing there just fueled you anger "My husband kindly came here asking for a refund and your employee left him here waiting for 10 minutes, she went i don't know were and came back with a lame excuse to make him leave, this is unacceptable, do you let your employees treat people like that?, what if he was an elder who had no idea what to do just trying to get a gift for his loved ones?" that's when you felt Seonghwa's hand on your waist gently bringing you closer to him "I'm so sorry to hear that ma'am, and i do apologize for the inconvenience" at this point the girl was standing beside him with her arms crossed "maybe she meant to say that we can give you a refund or you can choose the right size of the same sweater you choose before" he just looked back at the girl with a forced smile, hoping she would not make the situation worst, when she didn't respond you just looked back at him "don't worry, you don't have to apologize, but it's up to my husband" the man behind you passed the last 5 minutes daydreaming, he already had a venue in mind, he was thinking whether the cake should be a classic white cake or maybe he would ask you to let him have a Star Wars themed cake, after that you could go to New Zealand as you've always planned for your honeymoon, or maybe Paris?, no, you've always wanted to go to New Zealand, and since he is for sure insisting on the Star Wars themed wedding that's the least he can do for you, or maybe a lego cake? that would be new, his friends would definitely envy him for that.

"Babe" That's when he realized the three of you were looking at him so you had to repeat the question for him "i think we can pick the right size this time" "of course Sir, that's a great idea, we can wrap it as gift for you as well" the older man looked at the girl this time and asked her to go and get the sweater for you, he didn't had to but when she rolled her eyes you decided she could use a few extra steps "Can you show me your ID to process it on the system please Sir?" your boyfriend seemed off, in the clumsiest way possible he took out his wallet to show his id.

After just a few minutes the employee gave you the gift wrapped up and ready along with your receipt "Again i'm so sorry for the inconvenience Mr. and Mrs. Park, and happy holidays" your boyfriend took the gift and quietly bowed at them before wishing them happy holidays as well, at this point the "Husband" thing was long forgotten to you, but as the two of you walked out of the store you saw your boyfriend looking at the gift as if it was the most interesting thing in the world "you ok?" there were a few seconds of silence before he spoke " I've always feared that you would beat me up to ask you to marry me, but i never thought you would do it in a department store" that's when it hit you, you didn't even asked him if it was ok "i'm sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable, i just thought it sounded more serious, i think i got carried away" "it's okay, you look hot when you're mad" even after developing the ability of have a verbal fight without crying and thinking that you were in control of your emotions this man never failed to make you a blushing mess with the most simple things "aawww, are you blushing right now Mrs Park?" you looked at him clearly not knowing how to react, smiling and frowning at the same time, this action only made Seonghwa kiss you in the middle of the hallway "keep teasing me and next time you would have to call the pizza restaurant yourself"

[purplekissinger]

Of arrows and targets

Tom and Y/N have something in common: they are both crazy about the Dark Arts. They create the first Horcrux together. Instead of settling in a diary, a fragment of Tom's soul lodges itself in Y/N.

Tom and Y/N create their first modified spell in their third year. Based on the Warding and Summoning Charms, it has, in fact, a very complex design. It could become a non-trivial task even for a skillful wizard. The daring idea belongs to Y/N, for she wanted to invent a charm that would distract the enemies during a fight. She also has the honor of testing it on herself. Tom feels vaguely uneasy about this.

One early Sunday morning, Y/N and Tom sneak out to the clearing just behind the Quidditch pitch, which the older students sometimes use as a dueling ground. It is the end of April, a windy and sunny day. Y/N laughs and jokes all the whole way there as Tom looks around anxiously and asks her to be quieter to no avail.

Her robe was unbuckled, with a red and yellow scarf sticking out from underneath. Tom looks at the scarf, at Y/N's beaming smile, and his stomach sinks.

***

"I am the disgrace of the Gryffindor House," you said in a devastated tone.

That late evening, you had been sitting on the floor by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room for about an hour. Tom, who had been diligently pretending to read notes from the classes he had missed, casted a disapproving glance at you, then turned and looked at you for real. Intently. The reflections of the flame illuminated his face.

"What do you mean, may I ask?" he asked. "In my opinion, you are the only one of the entire house who somehow justifies its existence."

"You are giving me a pass for my past achievements," you said. Then you paused and added: "And so do I."

"An example?" Tom raised an eyebrow. He still looked exhausted, although he was probably feeling better now. At least he seemed pretty much okay for a person who was lying flat out in the Hospital Wing the day before. You could tell. You spent the night by his bed, after all.

“If I were a real Gryffindor with a spine of one, I would have told Dippet on you,” you muttered.

But you didn’t. Yes, you yelled at Tom, you challenged him to a duel (which you lost), burst into tears and said you didn’t want to know him anymore, begged him to go to the Headmaster and tell the truth, begged him to Obliviate you. You didn’t talk to Tom for six months, raised the entire Gryffindor House from first to last year to rebel and fought more desperately than anyone for Hagrid and defended him. And still you didn’t tell Dippet on Tom.

He covered his eyes with his hand. Such a tired, human gesture.

“I think”, he finally said, ”I think that's your most Gryffindor trait. You don't seem to betray your friends”.

“Who told you I was your friend?”

“You did”,  his smile was faint.

“You passed out!” you suddenly gasped and turned as red as your tie (good thing it wasn't visible in the dark). “You weren't even thinking straight, you couldn't hear me, you idiot - what else did I say?!”

Little by little the storm died down. Hagrid stayed at school, the picture of Myrtle laughing took its place on the wall in the Great Hall. You, however, could not forget. For several months you pretended not to see Tom, but you thought of him every second. For six months he didn't give you any reason to belive that he wanted to reconnect, greeting you as politely and indifferently as anyone else when you ran into each other in the hallway (you didn't bother to answer). If anything, he seemed to have easily gotten over losing you. It was physically painful to think about it.

When the pain dulled a little, Tom suddenly sent you a simple note: "Tonight. Astronomy Tower. 8 p.m. Tell no one." You arrived there fuming, only intending to spit in his face, only to find Tom as calm as ever. He told you that he was going to conduct another experiment, the riskiest yet. You could help him - or not, but in the second case, he wanted to apologize to you once again, for he was not sure if he would survive.

"You said that I am your best friend," Tom chuckled. "And that I should not dare to die. And that you love me”.

You jumped upright. Then sat back down. You swung your arm, as if you wanted to slap him, but then quickly turned away.

"I missed you, Y/N," you heard through the noise in your ears. How, oh how could he say such things so dryly?! "I really did. These have officially been the worst six months of my life. The most boring, useless, unbearable six months without you. Stop covering your ears, I'm not going torepeat myself. Wait, are you crying?”

"Go to hell," you whispered with hatred in your voice. Your voice was shaking with tears.

That night you had a dream.

Nothing terrible was happening in that dream, and yet it was the scariest you ever had. You were wandering through the empty dark corridors of some building, looking desperately for someone, not being able to find them. The floor was laid with gray tiles, the ceiling was low, sometimes a dusty window revealed a washed-out gray void, and there were doors, doors, doors again... Hundreds and hundreds of them. It was getting more and more stuffy, you were already running through the endless labyrinth, yanking the doors towards you, knocking on them, stumbling and falling. You remembered a cramped room behind one of them. Two steps wide, a very high ceiling, a window into a brick wall.

"So it was a success? Or a failure? Your experiment?" you asked gloomily the next day. Your head was splitting from a heavy sleep.

Rain pattered outside. The broom classes were canceled. You and Tom were sitting in the corner of the library, like you had done before, not knowing how to overcome the icy barrier that had grown between you over the past six months. Tom was leafing through the little black book you had already seen once.

“I don’t know,” he said irritably. He exhaled heavily and put the book down. “Not yet, maybe”.

“What was that supposed to do anyway?”

Tom glanced sideways at you. There was something new and unpleasant in that look. Something sharp.

“What do you think it was supposed to do?”

You bit your lip.

The truth was, that one experiment was unlike anything else. The memories of that evening were strangely clear, but somehow devoid of any meaning and so unnatural that they seemed unreal. Each action of the ritual was not individually vile, nor scary, nor dangerous, but altogether they formed some monstrous algorithm, the monstrosity of which eluded description. It was simply impossible to describe. There are things that make you scream, not speak.

“You never really explained it to me,” you finally said. “Well, I held this thing, the book, above you. When you told me to close my eyes, I did so. I couldn’t see anything else.”

You would have closed them either way. You wouldn’t have been able to look any further.

“The book,” Tom repeated. “Exactly. The book. Not a book, though, the diary.”

“Big deal,” you winced, “Then I realized that I couldn’t hear anything. I opened my eyes, saw… Saw you, and then there was the Hospital Wing”.

Memory flash: you drag Tom's limp body across the night field to the lights of the castle in the distance with your last strength. Your hands are numb, your throat is burning, your heart is jumping out of your chest. The lights seem unreachable, and then everything blurs into golden spots when you finally start to sob.

You left the library together - no hand-holding, no exchanged glances, but together nonetheless. It seemed to you that Tom was smiling with the side of his mouth that you did not see.

The next night the dream continued when you burst, exhausted, into a closet with a brick window and saw a boy on a rust-streaked iron bed. The boy looked at you with an inky, burning gaze and said in a raspy voice:

‘Tell that loser that he fucked up his experiment’.

Then he got up from the bed and became three times taller than you. The room was as dark as night, but you saw his face too well. You woke up with a sinking heart and for a long time couldn't figure out where you were. It was four in the morning, the window was just starting to turn gray, yet you didn't dare go back to sleep and trudged to the bathroom instead.

"You look tired," Tom said calmly at breakfast. You couldn't remember letting him sit next to you again. Apparently he decided to take advantage of the lack of a direct ban.

"And you look like a person who lost five gallons of blood three days ago," you snapped. An annoying pain throbbed in your temple.

"A human usually has no more than one gallon of blood," Tom said. Without looking at you, he asked: "Y/N, what happened?"

If you knew him a little less, you would think that there was nothing hidden behind this indifferent tone.

”Answers for answers. I'll tell you if you tell me what this ritual was first”.

“This is not a fair trade”.

“I saved your life, remember?!”

“I will never forget this, thank you very much”.

“Write that down just in case, then. In this little book of yours, maybe. Why do you carry it around everywhere, anyway?”.

What began as a sweet conversation dissolved in angry whispering, swallowed by the Great Hall’s ever-present roar. The Gryffindors and Slytherins stared at you two with immodest curiosity: had Riddle and L/N finally made peace? Tom, not at all embarrassed, silently pushed a plate of pancakes towards you, as if you forgot why you came here, and then he sat next to you in Potions, as if that was how it should be. He was reclaiming the lost ground as quickly as possible, until you came to your senses.

On the third night, you went to bed, carefully placing your head on the pillow, as if it were the mouth of a lion (or a huge snake?). No precautions helped, and all night you ran away from the boy with the inky gaze, who chased you along the dark tiled corridors, sometimes climbing onto the ceiling.

‘You both failed me’, the boy said in a colorless, dry voice, ‘but you are already mine, and I will get him too. Come here, Y/N, don't be scared. You can't run away, you can't run away, you can't run away’.

During the break the next day, you tracked Tom down and literally shoved him into the broom closet by force. Even in the darkness, you could see the malicious smugness glowing in his eyes. He didn't even bother to wipe the victorious grin.

“Is this your idea of passion?” he asked.

“What, in Mordred, did you call into this world with this ritual?” you hissed.

Literally hissed.

The smile slowly faded from his face, and now Tom simply looked at you as if he had never seen you before. For a long minute, you stared at each other in silence, while the sophomores, who had started a fight, were making noise in the hallway outside the door. There was an explosion, and someone screamed in triumph.

 Tom was the first to control himself.

“Do you understand me?” he asked quietly. You had heard him speak this language to snakes before,  once was that evening when he showed you how to open the passage to the Chamber of Secrets. Now, every sound took on meaning and significance, as if a noisy radio broadcast suddenly sounded crystal clear.

“I wish I didn't,” you said.

Then you told him about the nightmares. You were still speaking Parseltongue for the first half of the story, because you hadn't figured out how to switch back to human language. Turned out that Parseltongue was very easy to speak when you were angry.

"We've got a problem, Tom," you said. "Come on, spill it."

And he did. Right there in the closet, twenty minutes before Transfiguration, where you were supposed to have a test.

"Lumos," he said. His face was deathly pale in the wandlight. "See this diary?"

"I've been seeing it for three days now, you've been carrying this around all the time."

"I guess I can throw it away now. The experiment went wrong, there's nothing in it. It's empty."

"What was supposed to be in there?"

Tom covered his face with his hands and shook his head. You'd never seen him like that before. Even while bleeding out there in the clearing, he had kept a calm and reasonable expression on his face. In front of you stood a terrified boy who had broken something that couldn't be glued back together and he didn't even know how to ask for forgiveness.

"I don't know where to start," he said dully. "What do you know about how the soul works?"

"What does that have to do with it? Tom, what were you trying to do? Who is this spider boy, how does he know you, what the hell is going on?!"

"I cut off a piece of my soul and tried to put it in this diary, that's what going on," Tom said sharply. You knew that tone, too. Behind it he was hiding his horror. "But it's not in the diary. That night… Well, during the ritual it chose another vessel”.

You burst into nervous laughter. Merlin, who does he think he is?! The new Adalbert Waffling?!.

"And where is it now, then? Has it chosen, I don’t know, a rock for a new home?!"

Instead of answering, Tom leaned in and kissed you on the lips. Slowly. Pleadingly. Tenderly. Then, before you realized what he was doing, his cool fingers quickly cupped your chin, and the kiss turned into a snake bite. Sarp, demanding, lethal.

“I’m sorry,” he said barely audibly when you got your breath back. “I didn’t think it would turn out like this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Y/N.”

…The next night you dreamed of a small room in which you were sitting on an iron bed, clutching the bars with a death grip. The gray light from the window illuminated the opposite brick wall, when a boy with a pale face and black holes instead of eyes crawled out of it, came up to the bed and laid his head on your lap. He closed his hollow eyes and looked almost like an ordinary child, a very sad one.

“I liked you right away,” he said. “You’re so much better than that stupid diary. You’re warm inside and you love me. You’ll treat me well, right? Better than he did? You won’t leave me? You won’t leave me, right? You won’t? Never ever?”

You patted his head with trembling fingers.

“I won’t leave you, Tommy. I won’t.”

***

Spreading her arms as if for a hug, Y/N laughs playfully:

“Tom! Are you napping over there? Let’s go—show me that spell works!”

The wind flutters the red and yellow scarf on her chest. Red stripe, yellow stripe, red stripe. A target. Tom raises his wand.

His hand is trembling.