#i had to take some creative libraries on the hair

[nwreric]

Hey kids.

Sorry I've been unalive for the past...uh...man, has it been that long?

Obligatory apology aside,

Lego @asktrio516 Rosie!

I was randomly hit with motivation to throw this together as a flimsy excuse to procrastinate on adulty stuff.

I also "wasted" an ungodly amount of time on this fun callback (ft. my truck bois).

God willing, I'd like to do more of these in the near future, so keep an eye out!

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Okay but imagine if the Creator's child was Kaveh's.

Out of literally everyone in the world and the creator bags the broke architect 🤭

Que Jessica Rabbit's 'he makes me laugh'.

He still lives with Alhaitham bc the idea of sharing a literal child with the creator but still getting locked out of your apartment is hilarious.

The creator had a the broke architect's child

Creative child

After your child is born with no distinctive features other than his blond hair the first one to know who your lover was is your own child

WC: 900~

To be 100% truthful I only thought about doing this for the iconic physical feature like neuvi, Diluc, etc but this was fun jsjs

“Morning, parental unit” your blond son stands on the door joining your library and the solarium in which you often humored visits.

“Morning, uhm, offspring?” Your hand reaches towards the book shelf without minding him, people said children his age find joy in speaking and behaving weirdly, and yours wasn't an exception, if his giggles meant something. 

“I heard you speaking with mister Diluc about visiting Sumeru”

“It's bad to eavesdrop” softly you chastise him but he pouts and stomps.

“I wanna go! You told me dad lives there, I wanna meet him”

“Shush! I told you that as our secret” you close the book you were skimming over but sigh as you see his yellow eyes “but last month when I told you to come for a festival in Sumeru but you didn't want to go”

“Because aunties Eula and Amber were going to teach me how to skyyyy” he whines the last word, already sensing you wouldn't want to take him there. 

“Bratty child” you groan “fine, if you manage to make up for the 4 days we will not be here with your tutor I will take you” and as you finish talking you hear him slamming the door shut and his bare feet hitting the floor as he runs away.

And, somehow, your usually mischievous child managed to work hard enough to make up for a few absences, or so said his tutor, who you still believed was under the spell of his puppy eyes, just like when he managed to smuggle two cats and a cryo slime.

“Karen, stay close, we have to go to the akademiya to check some paperwork and sit through some meetings” you grab his forearm, dragging him away from the colorful stained glass mobiles and the fluffy beasts carrying spices and fruit.

After a fair bit of bickering with every stand selling something he has never seen you manage to reach the akademiya, even if Karen was almost being dragged. 

Popping your head on the administration room you see a row of desks, a familiar face standing out amongst the sea of brown hair, a long gray hair standing up tall from his scalp.

Alhaitham is lounging in his desk, a book on one hand and a pen on the other, seeing him so calm makes you decide against bothering him and rather to ask one of his coworkers, even if you have to wait for a little bit while they finish transcribing as you chat them up, knowing it could be intimidating to have you stand silently besides them.

“C'mon let's just go to himmm, he looks like he is just lazing arounddd” Karen tugs on the bottom of your tunic but you ignore his little tantrum and keep asking the girl about the date she told you she will have after work.

Seemingly waiting for five minutes was too much of a waste of time that could be used to explore this nation. Sneaking silently behind you he stands before Alhaitham’s desk, but is ignored as he has his noise canceling earbuds and Karen isn't taller than the desk.

“Hey” he says, no answer “Heeeyy” no answer, now ticked off Karen slams his small hands against the thick wood board “HEY! STOP IGNORING ME” 

Alhaitham just peeks his head towards him, not hearing the noise but seeing his hands, but when he looks at him his annoyed look and yellow eyes seem too familiar.

He opens his mouth, eyes half closed as if he was thinking about something. 

Now noticing he was causing the ruckus you drag him by the armpits so he stops hitting the desk, as you start making Karen apologize you see Alhaitham's face. His eyebrows now almost up with his hairline and his green eyes uncharacteristically wide, but quickly he changes into a smirk as Karen apologizes for yelling.

“Please don't tell me it was-”

“Keep reading your book”

“Not my guest's bed~” he teases while grabbing his book, expecting the office to be calm again when the door slams open again, a blond huffing and puffing ready to face his housemate.

“YOU… how come you always grab my keys?! I couldn't enter the house for 2 hours!” to which al haitham tugs a set of keys out of his pockets and dangles three keys and a lion doll.

“Ugh, calm down. Why even wait 2 hours if you already know where I work?”

Under all their yapping you mumble something to your son “that is your dad” and you let a small promise to make both meet if he is busy, but after 5 ish minutes of bickering and the paperwork you needed snug in your hand it's obvious it will be quicker to just end this fight yourself. 

“Kaveh? Oh, hi, it's been so long” one of your hands falls on his shoulder, making him notice your presence “like 4 years ago?” You ask as you feel Karen hug one of your legs.

“oh, yeah, it's been so long” he laughs lightly, feeling suddenly bashful.

“It's a shame I was so busy I was just able to visit Sumeru, someone wanted to meet you” the flat part of your nail rakes through your son's hair.

“Huh?” He just now notices the kid behind you and his bright hair.

“Could you take care of him for a second? I have to finish a meeting and I should be able to meet you two”

“Yep! I will show him around and we can meet at the cafe, in sure we will have a lot to talk about”

Don't dare to run away so fast... Who allowed you to use my house like a motel

Hick!

[callsign-rogueone]

one for the books - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x Scribe!Reader part of my Valentine’s Day Celly (better late than never?) words: 1.7k (got a little carried away here, oops) 🏷: IRON FLAME SPOILERS. scribe reader who is referred to as a woman one time, and has painted nails, but no pronouns used. just some meet-cute fluff with reader and Gare. love at first sight. it's weird writing him with anyone other than Angel, but I hope y'all will still like it anyway 🥺

Garrick wanders through the rows of bookshelves in search of someone who actually knows what they’re doing, so he won’t have to spend the entire day looking at the titles of every book in this massive library.

It doesn’t take long for him to find the only scribe who’d come with them to Aretia: Violet’s friend, Jesinia, who had helped them sneak into the Archives to get the journals. Who happens to be Deaf. He hadn’t thought about that part. 

He waves a hello, racking his brain for the letters of the alphabet and spelling out his request at a snail’s pace, hoping he’s moving his hands correctly. I… n-e-e-d…

Jesinia takes pity on him, holding up a hand to stop him and darting back into the maze of shelves, leaving him standing there thoroughly embarrassed -- he really needs to add “study sign” to his list of things to do after this whole wyvern thing is resolved and Tyrrendor is freed again. Whenever that will be.

He’s expecting her to come back with a pen and paper, so he can write it down, but she emerges thirty seconds later with another scribe in tow, one he’s never met before -- the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. 

Jesinia gestures to you with a soft smile, and leaves.

He blinks once, twice, taking you in.

You’ve taken some creative liberties with the uniform, wearing the beige scribes’ robes open with a plain shirt and pants underneath, the hood down to expose your face and hair, a pair of glasses perched atop your head and a clipboard in hand, your nails long and painted a pale pink -- a few of them have started to chip, but it’s endearing; comforting to find a tiny flaw in an otherwise perfect presence.

You’re equally entranced. The fortress is crawling with riders -- you’re one of maybe five students here who are anything else --  but this one in particular makes your heart race. 

It’s as if the gods pulled a knight from the pages of one of your fantasy novels and dropped him in front of you in this library; broad and tall, muscled and tattooed, two longswords strapped across his back… he’d be intimidating without the nervous smile on his face and the blush dusting his cheeks, the afternoon light coming through the windows and making him glow.

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” you ask after a moment, hoping you don’t sound as flustered as you feel.

The scar running down the side of his face moves as he speaks -- more quietly than you’d been expecting. “Riorson sent me; he wants everything you have about wards.”

You blow out a nervous breath. “Okay, uh… I’m still not totally sure how this library is organized, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“We can look together, then,” he offers, giving you a knee-weakening smile.

You don’t know if you can spend the rest of your afternoon with this man and not make a complete fool of yourself, but you’ll just have to try your best. “Sounds like a plan.”

You realize you don’t know each other’s names, having been too busy staring at each other to make proper introductions.

“Garrick,” he offers, extending a hand to shake.

You’re really supposed to refer to him as Lieutenant, since he’s graduated and you haven’t, but you still repeat the word softly, trying it out. “Nice to meet you, Garrick.”

He already owes Xaden Riorson his life, but hearing you say his name, feeling the softness of your hand against his… he decides he’ll be in the boy’s debt well into the afterlife, too.

“I’ll start on one end, you on the other, and meet in the middle?” you ask. “Anything with wards, magic, or protection in the title would be a good start.”

He hums in acknowledgement, heading down to the end of the row.

“I haven’t been in here in ages,” he admits, scanning the rows of shelves for anything that could be useful. “I lived most of my life here before the revolution,” he adds quickly, explaining.

Small talk is good. You can do small talk.

“It must have been interesting growing up in a fortress like this,” you respond, too shy to ask him for his likely incredibly-tragic life story outright, and you’re technically on the job right now, so you should be focusing on the task at hand.

He picks another volume off the top shelf, keeping his feet flat on the ground and barely having to stretch for it. “It was. There were a few dozen of us kids around, always underfoot and meddling. We used to play hide and seek in here, and see how long we could stay before the scribes found us and kicked us out.”

You laugh, a sound he doesn’t think he’ll ever grow tired of hearing. You may be a librarian, but you’re the polar opposite of the typical strict and stiff scribes he’s used to -- young and lovely and not afraid to laugh and talk among the books, to let them hear your voice and know that they’re appreciated. They’re lucky to have someone like you watching over them.

Since you’re grasping at straws here, you decide to cast a broad net and pull down anything that could be even a little bit helpful -- and you’re finding more than you’d thought, likely because the Tyrrish basically invented wards. 

You really should have brought a cart, but it’s no issue for him -- he’s holding at least ten thick volumes at once with complete ease.

“I got it,” he offers, shifting the tall stack he’s amassed into one arm and taking yours with the other. Seeing a man like him with an armful of books is hotter than it should be. Everything about him is hotter than it should be.

He sets the stack on the nearest table, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair before he sits down.

Your eyes linger on the relic winding around his arm like a plume of black smoke, contrasting against the pale muscle. You know it was intended as way to mark them as the descendants of those who had committed treason, to set them apart from their peers and to force them to enroll in the rider’s quadrant, but he looks like he didn’t have too much trouble in his days at Basgiath, if the two dozen patches on his flight jacket are any metric.

It suits him. He’d look incomplete without the relic and the thick scar on the side of his face. It would be rude to ask how he got it, but the curiosity still tugs at you. You want to know everything about him.

You realize you’re staring, and pull your eyes away as quickly as you can manage, worried that he’ll think you’re judging him -- though you wouldn’t be here if you weren’t on his side.

You each take a book off the top and crack it open, scanning for anything that could help. “Did he say anything more specific? Or why he needs this?”

“Nope. But he’s always been vague and mysterious, even when we were kids, before he had all those shadows following him around.”

“I’ve only seen him twice, but that sounds accurate.”

It’s his turn to laugh. “He may be all cold and broody all the time, but he’s a good guy. I’ve always considered him my best friend.”

You’re thinking of the best way to keep him talking when Jesinia knocks on the side of a nearby shelf to get your attention. Done with my transcribing. What’s next?

Thank you. You can leave for the day. 

Jesinia gives you a sly smile. You don’t want help? Or do you just want to be alone with him because you think he’s handsome?

She’d told you that Garrick’s sign was rusty, that he could only fingerspell, but you still turn away from him as you respond, praying he didn’t understand what she just said. 

Two can play at this game. I’ve been meaning to ask, how is that redhead boy who keeps coming by to talk to you? I’m sure he’d like to see you for another sign lesson tonight.

She reddens, realizing you know about her crush on the rider, and bails out of the conversation while she still can. Goodnight!

There’s that lovely laugh again as you turn back to him, seeing him watching you -- now you really hope he didn’t understand. He quickly returns his gaze to the book in front of him, which definitely isn’t modern Navarrian or any of the other languages you know. It must be Tyrrish.

“You can read this?” you ask with rapt curiosity, leaning forward to take a better look at it.

“About every fifth word or so,” he answers. “There aren’t many fluent speakers left, since it was outlawed decades ago and kids aren’t taught it in school. I don’t see the symbol for “wards” anywhere, but that might be too obvious.”

“No language should ever be outlawed,” you respond, perhaps a little too hotly. “There must be so much valuable information that was lost in translation or destroyed entirely after the wars. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to become a scribe, to try to save as much as I could. But so many of the texts in the Archives have been translated over and over, and I can’t help but wonder if some things were left out on purpose.”

Another smile. “Well-said. Into the “maybe” pile, then?”

Your cheeks warm with embarrassment as you realize how long you’d been talking. “That’s the only pile we have,” you sigh, stretching. 

He’d shown up around four, and it’s nearing seven now, your body automatically responding to the hour and telling you to pack things up, but that’s one of the nicest things about the library here -- unlike the Archives at Basgiath, you can work here through the night, and not be booted out at seven on the dot.

You’d asked the Lieutenant Colonel about it when he’d come by one day, and he’d told you there wasn’t any sort of magical time-sealing-lock on the library, just a normal wooden door charmed to be fireproof -- so you’d stayed in one of the armchairs until midnight reading, just because you could.

“Well,” he offers, “I know it’s a grave sin to eat in the library, so how about we take a break, get ourselves some dinner, and pick this back up after?”

Smooth. Very smooth.

“I’d like that,” you answer, your heart fluttering. “I’d like that a lot.”

[justawritterwithideas]

Boy Wonder and the Rockstar | s.r

✩ previous part | next part ✩

summary: The BAU rushes to Washington after discovering that the lead singer of a famous band may be in danger, causing Spencer to come face to face with his past after 15 years.

general warnings: this series contains topics such as mentions of death, alcohol, drugs, strong vocabulary, as well as talk of heartbreak, disappointment and arguments. It also contains content regarding CM season 13, so it clearly contains spoilers.

chapter warnings: this chapter contains mentions of murder, vomiting, mistreatment, as well as the use of strong vocabulary. this is a spencer reid x famous!reader story.

words: 4,269 words.

a/n: hello! here i come with the second chapter of "boy wonder and the rockstar", i had fun writing this chapter as i also suffered from lack of creativity ( T T ), but finally inspiration touched me. I hope you like it. Remember to read the chapter cautions and have a good read.! English is not first language, so I may have mistakes, if so, I'm sorry. :(

𝟎.𝟐: 𝐌𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫.

For many people, memories that are related to times in their lives relate to certain aspects of the five senses, whether it's certain sounds or textures, music that brings them back to that exact memory, or simply tastes of foods that remind them of what their loved ones used to make.

For Spencer, it was smells.

Despite possessing a memory that makes him remember even the smallest detail of what happened the day before, his olfactory memory was much more developed than other senses.

During his childhood, or what he considers childhood, his memories smelled of the pages of old books that his mother read to him and her perfume, impregnated in the bed sheets when they sat together to read some classic of literature. When he was in his youth, sometimes the smells reminded him of the charcoal in his pencil, writing mathematical exercises on white sheets, or sometimes the smell of chlorine, because of the thousand times bullies forced him to go to the bathroom.

But during his college days, he always thought that the smell that would be his favorite was the soft smell of the library, of wood and humidity; but no, those memories had the smell of freshly brewed coffee, cherries and menthol cigarettes.

His good memories always brought smiles to his face in the middle of nowhere, as if he was remembering one of those old bad jokes they used to tell him and he couldn't find the humor in them, or maybe the less thought out answers to such logical questions. His good memories caused his stomach to clench tightly and his chest to feel heavy, as if a stone was replacing his heart.

Spencer knew why. Why his body felt that way.

But he didn't want to admit why.

Because if he admitted it, he knew the only reason he did would make him regret it, he would have to give reason to his sentimental side than the rational side.

And he hated not being right.

"Spence."

J.J.'s voice brought the boy back to his desk, taking his eyes off the nearly iced coffee with a pound of sugar to keep him awake.

He'd been daydreaming about Y/N's laughter in his ear for nights now, just like when they had sleepovers at her apartment. He couldn't get her out of his head, let alone get the smell out of her hair when she was the small spoon.

"What, what's going on?" the opposite replied, looking at the blonde. She seemed to be trying to decipher what was going on in her friend's head.

"I'm asking you, is something wrong, are you sleeping well?"

"Yes." Bullshit.

"Are you sure? Your eyes say otherwise." The black circles under his eyes gave him away.

"I've been sleepless for a few days, but it's because my neighbors won't let me sleep." Another bullshit.

"You should talk to them, you know." The boy nodded, giving the blonde an elongated smile and returning to his paperwork.

"Really all right?"

"Yeah, J.J. It's fine."

"'S okay, you know what you can tell me."

"Yes J.J., thank you."

The answer didn't leave the blonde satisfied, but she made an extraordinary effort to ignore his attitude and return to the desk with Luke and Matt, who had been staring at him for a couple of minutes.

"He's rambling again." Commented J.J as she returned, who kept her eyes on her best friend and tried to figure out what was wrong with him.

It was usual at this time of year, when the leaves were beginning to turn their last summer colors, that Spencer would go blank staring at a spot in the room more than once.

No one quite understood why that happened to him, the only one who knew was Gideon. But he never shared any of Spencer's secrets, not even if a gun was held to his chest.

"Guess whateee, my dear friends!" The conversation was interrupted by a cheerful and enthusiastic Penelope, who commanded everyone's attention with her sonorous voice.

"What's going on, Garcia?" Luke turned to see her, who was coming with an envelope in her hand.

"Your genius did it again, rub the wishing lamp and I got tickets to the best concert of the year - Paradox in Virginia! Can you believe it?"

"You got them!?" J.J. was the first to startle, coming closer to see the tickets for the most anticipated concert of the year.

"That's right, my dear friend! A girls' night out to see Paradox. You, me, Emily and Tara."

"No way, god. I'll talk to Will and rest assured I'll be ready for that night." J.J smiled hugging her friend's arm.

"What's Paradox...?" muttered Luke, causing Matt to turn to look at him. The poor Luke was trying to comprehend what his friends were talking about.

Was he too out of date on pop culture or were they speaking in some kind of secret code?

"Oh Luke, why did you ask that?" Matt shook his head, earning a glare from the blonde couple.

"What did you say, newbie, don't you know what Paradox is? Oh god, no way. I'll have to bring you up to date with a course on what today's music is right now, follow me." Penelope motioned to the boy, who turned to see Matt who was lifting his shoulders laughing.

"No Penelope, you're not going anywhere. We have a case, and it's urgent. There's no time, meeting room now."

The rest of the people turned to look at each other, abiding by their boss's orders as they saw her so anxious and serious about a case.

That didn't look good at all.

The adrenaline and euphoria of last night's show, plus the last two dates, had been enough of a stimulant for Y/N to fall asleep in bed once they arrived at the hotel. Her whole body was exhausted, and at that moment all she wanted was some chamomile tea and a thousand hours of sleep.

She loved her job, of course she did! But she was mentally and physically exhausted from giving almost 15 concerts without a break, from one state to another, with more cups of coffee and energizers in her body than times where her eyes closed to sleep.

And the only time she found peace and quiet was when her body was being moved from one location to another, so, at that moment, her body was resting in the comfortable seat of the SUV after being driven to an interview and returned to the hotel to rest.

She felt her limbs meld with the seat, feeling like she was in heaven itself where her muscles all over her body were relaxing after days.

Her peace didn't last long when she heard a soft call.

"Psss, Y/N."

The, now, blonde heard the call from Felix, also known as the band's drummer and her best friend.

"What? You ruin my beauty nap."

"What did one wall say to the other?"

Y/N could hang him right then and there.

More the tiredness in her body made her think, trying to devise the best answer to get him to leave her alone.

"What?"

"I'll meet you at the corner."

"I'm having the biggest self-control to not kill you because you just interrupted the only moment of peace I've had these past three months, asshole."

"You haven't been able to sleep?"

Y/N denied with her eyes closed, desperate to get back to her attempt at sleep.

"Not a single moment, I woke up three times last night and that was the best attempt at sleep I've ever had."

"Your pills aren't working?"

"They're placebos, they won't make my body calm down just like that and go back to my eight hour sleep cycle that I'd had for the last two years without touring." The young woman opened one eye, looking at her friend. "I just have to get used to it, I have to get back to the cycle of excitement I used to have when it was tour after tour."

"Maybe if we talk about that thing that bothers you-"

"No way."

Y/N knew what he meant, knew it was talking about a certain doctor who gave her goosebumps every time she thought about him and took her back to her college days.

Why was she still thinking about him? It had been almost 15 years since they last spoke.

Y/N looked at the date on her phone.

No, she was wrong.

It had been 15 years since they last spoke.

Today was 15 years since she had received the last letter from Spencer with her name written on it.

The last time she felt the smell of his perfume on the sheets and his ugly doctor's handwriting on a sheet of paper.

The last time she saw written "wherever you are, whatever you do or whoever you are with, you are always on my mind and in my heart, Y/N."

Last time she saw written "Love from Quantico, dr. Spencer Reid. I'm also known as your #1 fan, but only you know that."

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well that night? Yes.

Was that the reason she hadn't slept well for that last week? Yes.

Was that the reason why, every time she closed her eyes, she saw him smile? Yes.

Was she going to admit it? No.

Never.

"Y/N..."

"I don't want to talk about it, Felix. Don't insist."

"But, Y/N-"

"Let it go, Felix. Really, don't insist." Tyler's voice made Felix turn to look at him angrily.

Tyler and Shawn, the guitarist and bassist respectively, shook their heads and made an "X" symbol with their fingers, muttering at the same time "don't do it, don't be stupid."

"Enough kids, let it go. In two days we have a very important concert to give in Seattle, so I don't want any fights."

"You heard him, Felix." Y/N smiled opening her eyes, looking in the direction of Gerald, her manager.

Thank you, Y/N murmured in the man's direction.

Gerald just raised his shoulders, noticing how the van parked.

"Okay, down."

Tyler and Shawn were the first to get out, followed by Y/N and then Felix.

Felix hated to come off as meddling in Y/N's life, so whenever he meddled too much in the girl's life, he simply knew that seeking forgiveness from her was his best option.

"Sorry Y/N, I didn't mean to insist."

"It's okay, Felix. I know you meant no harm, but I don't want to talk about it."

"And when will you?"

"I don't know, I guess when I'm ready."

"It's been 15 years, Y/N."

"I know, but I'm still not read-"

"Miss Autumn?"

Y/N turned to see the receptionist, who was holding a package.

"A package has arrived for you."

"Thank you, do you know who brought it?"

"No miss, I'm sorry."

"No worries, thanks again."

Y/N received it, walking to the elevator along with Felix after seeing how the package had a sticker on it that said "express delivery."

"What did you order, compulsive shopper?" Gerald turned to look at her, causing Y/N to deny in confusion.

"Nothing that I know of, I promise."

"Maybe it's a collaboration, Tiffany's already started putting the ads with your face all over it." Shawn smiled, elbowing the arm of the store's new ambassador.

"A gift for you to occupy at the next gig." Gerald replied, nodding softly as he looked down at his phone.

The box was small and covered in the typical plastic they place around it. Compact enough to drop a set of jewelry on behalf of the brand, but it seemed odd that it came directly and without warning.

The group made their way to the small meeting room where they had set up everything they needed, ready to hear the itinerary Gerald had prepared for them about their upcoming events.

Y/N's fingers went to open the package once it was placed on the table, watching as  the "Tiffany & Co." logo on its little sky blue box.

"Okay guys, tomorrow you have rehearsal from noon until three in the afternoon, then you'll have an interview on a radio station near the sta-"

A beautiful gold ring with a navy blue gem in the middle was the first thing that caught the young woman's eye, perfect for the occasion. But it was heavier than usual.

"Then you can go eat and rest, we'll still have dress rehearsal, so you can get ready-"

A shout coming from Y/N deafened the group of people, causing them all to look in her direction.

Her skin was as white as paper, her eyes fixed on the box she had just opened and her face with an expression of pure terror from an experimental horror movie.

All eyes went in the direction of the box, which Y/N felt like everything she had eaten that morning was going to spew out of her mouth right then and there.

"Shit."

The beautiful ring encircled something.

A human finger.

A human finger that stained the bottom of the box.

A human finger that was accompanied by a note.

"I hope you enjoy my gift, my sweet star. I made it just for you, good luck at the concert."

"This morning at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Washington, the lead singer of the band Paradox received a package. Inside was a human finger with a ring on it." Emily was passing around the photographs that had been sent by the Washington police, it showed just what she had just described above. "According to the receptionist it was dropped off by someone from a package store. The police questioned him and he said it had arrived with yesterday's load of packages."

"From where?" Luke asked.

"They don't know, they collect packages from all over the country so they don't know where it came from. They're looking for the tracking code of the branch they sent it from."

"How grotesque, who would send such a thing to an artist like her?" Tara looked at Emily, who sighed.

"But what do we have to do with this case?" Rossi looked at his tablet, zooming in on the picture of the ring.

"The DNA results came back to find out whose finger it is." A photograph of a stranger appeared on the TV screen. "He is Bruno Colombo, an Italian artist and the owner of that finger. We just got word that his lifeless body was found in his art studio."

"He's Autumn's ex-fiancé." Penelope commented, surprised at all that was going on. "In 2016, he and Autumn got engaged after dating for two years, but after a few months it was discovered that the engagement ended after Autumn discovered him and an art gallery owner having sex in his studio. According to him he did it because he wanted to make an exhibition that would portray Autumn's true feelings, and this way he could see her feeling of anger and sadness. There are still people who idolize him for that."

"What a jerk." Matt muttered.

"And how come no one noticed his absence?"

" According to this, he was isolating himself when he was setting up exhibits so it wasn't out of the ordinary for him to suddenly disappear."

Spencer felt his heart pounding, why would he get like this over a clear case of a stalker obsessing over a music star?

It's not like he even knew her.

"Apparently, this relates to a series of related cases over ten years that the only common element is this band, Paradox. No one has ever linked them before as none of the modes of operation are the same, the only factor that unites them is the viciousness with which they are carried out and the band, of course." Emily sighed, showing the various faces and deaths that surrounded them.

"Race or religion has nothing to do with it, it seems neither does gender." Spencer commented, quickly reading each of the bodies found. "But it looks like they all had an encounter with the band or one of the members. From 2008 when the first body was found until now."

"The director asked us to take on this case, the level of this band is insane and it seems to be going against the vocalist, Autumn. They are currently on a world tour after two years of no activity, plus not much is known about her in general." Emily turned to look at Penelope. "Garcia, you're joining us on this trip. You serve us better back in Washington than you do here at Quantico. Reid and Lewis will go meet the M.E., the rest of us will go to the station and then we'll all go to the Queen Elizabeth Hotel, we'll meet the band and their manager." The whole group was surprised, especially Penelope who held a surprised expression. "Wheels up in 30."

Y/N always thought that the whole thing about having human parts shipped to you in a box was part of fiction. At best, news fiction.

But what she had just experienced was surreal.

Her body was shaking with a cup of tea in her hands, feeling her hands stinging around the cup.

"Who the fuck would send something like that to Y/N? No one we know is capable of doing anything to her, they would fuck up their careers if they were exposed like that." Tyler turned, annoyed, in the direction of Y/N. "Who did this to you, are you hiding something from us?"

"No, Tyler. I'm not hiding anything, why would I hide the fact that someone sent me a fucking human part on my name to a hotel in the middle of our comeback tour? You're blaming me for something, huh? Tell me to my fucking face, Tyler."

Y/N stood up in exasperation, letting the hot water spill onto the floor.

"I don't know, you tell me, Y/N. If you got sent a finger."

"Go straight to hell, Tyler. Right straight up." Commented the girl raising her middle finger.

"Enough! Both of you." Gerald's loud voice interrupted them, separating the band's strong personalities. "Right now we can't fight. They just sent a fucking human finger to Y/N, we can't get mad about that, we should be worried."

"Finally someone with sense." Y/N sat back down, setting the cup aside.

"What are they seeing so much of us, why aren't they doing anything? They should be looking for the person responsible." Felix got up walking towards the officers, being stopped by Shawn.

"Hey, they're doing the best they can. If we go in there and raise our voices, we're going to hinder the investigation, don't be a dickhead."

"Damn it, this can't be happening." Y/N stood up, starting to walk over to her purse to pull out a cigarette and place it between her teeth.

"You can't smoke in here, Y/N." Gerald's warning went in one ear to the girl and out the other, flicking her lighter. "Y/N."

"What, look at the shit we're in, I just got sent a fucking human finger from who-knows-who and you're asking me to keep my cool!? I can't! There's a crazy person out there sending me that shit with 'nice words'." The girl threw the lighter at who-knows-where, finding herself on the verge of an anxiety attack. "Don't fuck around and leave me alone to have a smoke, Gerald."

The group fell back into the same silence that surrounded them four hours ago, letting the cigarette smoke flood their nostrils.

They were desperate, they needed to get to the root of this.

Y/N knew it. Right now she was the eye of the hurricane, who that box and message were addressed to; the same person who had sent her that, had taken it upon himself to send her flowers and letters with the same nickname, "my sweet star."

At first she thought it was nice, of course it's nice when you get your favorite flowers along with letters of good cheer and best wishes, but it's not nice when you get a gift like today's.

But her attitude would get her nowhere, she was annoyed and exasperated, but they didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

"I'm sorry, but this is too much for me, I can't handle this alone and my attitude isn't helping anything. " Y/N commented, taking her eyes off her cigarette and looking at the people closest to her. "We should be in this together."

"I'm sorry, kid. I got upset that I couldn't help you, that you didn't know who sent you that." Tyler sighed, giving the girl a rueful smile.

"Don't worry about it, Ty. I'm really sorry, everyone."

The girl took another puff on her cigarette, letting the minty flavor cool her lungs.

"The FBI is here."

The announcement made everyone look at each other, taking their last breaths and letting Y/N finish what she was doing, the only thing keeping her sane at that moment.

"I'll see you downstairs, okay?" Felix left a kiss on the young woman's forehead, taking his leave to get on the elevator.

Y/N found herself alone in the room, again feeling disgust rise in her throat. She couldn't get the image of that package out of her mind, how was someone capable of writing those sweet words and sending something as grotesque as that.

The girl's hands gently stroked her cheeks, waking up and she shook her head. She would make one last stop to the bathroom before heading downstairs, so she could go more consciously for who-knows-what things would make her talk.

The BAU met up with a group of people who, thanks to the way Penelope was getting excited, could be sure it was Paradox.

All along the way, Spencer had listened to Garcia's theories and who it could have been. He loved listening to her talk, but his head was somewhere else, somewhere else but there.

Something inside him sensed something, something he wasn't sure what it was. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was his thoughts of the past that had been running through him since morning.

"Agent Prentiss, I'm Gerald Murphy, the manager of Paradox." The man shook hands with the woman, who was looking over his shoulder at three people. "These are the members of the band: Tyler, Shawn and Felix."

The three let out a wave into the air, giving them a smile of sorts.

Spencer knew they weren't entirely happy they were there, he read it in their body language.

"I understand there are four of you in the band, here I see three." Emily looked directly into Gerald's eyes.

"Yeah, Autumn, the vocalist, is upstairs finishing something. But she's coming down now, right?" Felix nodded, watching the FBI agents.

Felix crossed glances with Spencer, feeling that familiar air from somewhere.

Spencer felt that familiar air too, but maybe he thought his mind was playing tricks on him.

"Please, let's go somewhere more private. That way we can talk more quietly."

Gerald motioned to the three men, who plunged inside the room, followed by everyone else.

The BAU settled down in front of the four people seated on the couches.

"If you like, we can wait for Miss Autumn." Emily glanced at the group, all of whom nodded.

"It's for the best, she's the most affected." Felix looked in the direction of Tyler and Shawn, who simply nodded in unison.

"You've never received anything like this before?" Luke directed his question at the group of people, causing Tyler to let out a sarcastic laugh.

"You think that's a normal thing to receive, a human finger? Please, be realistic."

"Tyler, shut up." Shawn motioned, slapping the young man's knee.

"That's a stupid question of his, since when is getting shit like that going to be normal?"

"Tyler!" Shawn gave him a stern look, turning his gaze back to Luke. "I'm sorry, we're touchy about this that just happened."

"My question was out of line, it's my fault." Luke admitted, turning to look at the rest.

"When is Autumn getting here?" Felix's question seemed to work magic, smelling her best friend's signature scent.

A strong smell of cherries and menthol tobacco made Spencer shake his head.

It wasn't time to remember Y/N, it wasn't time to focus on something like that.

It felt like his head was playing a joke on him, as if she was suddenly here. But the smell didn't go away, in fact, it intensified to the point that Spencer could feel his head hurting.

"Sorry I'm late."

Spencer felt his entire body freeze, as if he were turning into an ice cube.

The voice he thought he would never hear again.

The voice that escaped so much in his dreams.

He could hear it there, like an echo in his head.

His head turned, catching the figure that had just entered with some haste.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Autu-"

"Y/N."

The girl looked up, meeting Spencer's hazel eyes.

No way, Y/N thought.

Her heart stopped, as did the time around her.

Standing in front of her was a much older and mature Spencer Reid, but with that same lotion that made her dizzy.

The woman's mouth opened slightly, feeling the air in her lungs catch and no words came out of her mouth.

Her lip quivered, her pulse altered.

"Spencer."

Oh fate, how cruel did you have to be?

@alexa-33 | @ahhhhyesk | @imthefuckingleader | @narmothewraith | @kneelforloki | @niyahwhoreworld | @lexie0037 | @deadunicorn159 | @corpsebridenightamare | @preciousbabypeter | @sakuramadae | @zzz000eee | @runefirestarter | @sebastiansstanswhore | @whateverrrrrrrrs | @xsarcasticwriterx | @chris-seb-marvel | @bellaramseygfsblog | @lillysbigwilly | @dezibou | @astrophileous | @ily2lia | @sophiario | @valenftcrush | @oxace-of-heartsxo | @spencerrxids | @w31rdg1rl | @ineedsomezzz | @yeehawbitchs | @coolstories66 | @baku-hoes-blog

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

a lot of love, alme. ❀

[animasola86]

NSFW Hogwarts in the 1890s Headcanons

Convenient Plot Devices (to make my smut more believable)

(aka Nurse Blainey is a very supportive and progressive witch doctor!)

Every girl over the age of 15 (sometimes earlier) is required to take contraceptive potions as per request by Nurse Blainey who had to deal with horny teenagers and their lack of mind for consequences for too long.

Boys don't have to take them, but can if they are so inclined.

Very reluctantly, the recipe for that potion is taught by Professor Sharp in the Sixth-years' Potions class.

There are potions for every ailment (usually provided by Nurse Blainey), including aftermath soreness or the "potion after" if a witch/wizard forgot to take their contraceptive potion.

There were indeed condoms*, but not every wizard carried them, so the potions and/or a quick disappearing spell had to be used to prevent pregnancies.

*Condoms were usually distributed in barbershops in the late 19th/early 20th century (according to Wikipedia) so I imagine Madam Snelling selling them under the counter in her hair salon.

There is no sex-ed class in Hogwarts, but again, Nurse Blainey is the first to hand out informative literature* or reading recommendations.

The Restricted Section of the library has an entire room filled with erotic fiction, anatomical books and various guides to help out the eager witch or wizard.

*Informative literature included tips and guides for the uterus-bearing population on how to deal with bleeding. As early as 1890, probably even earlier, there was the "invention" of pad-belts/sanitary belts in Victorian England, those were re-usable and I can imagine even easier to use for witches because instead of cleaning them the old-fashioned way, they could just clean them with a swish of their wand. (Read more on the history of menstrual pads here if you're interested.)

Ignatia Wildsmith has seen more horny teenagers making out in front of her Floo flames than people actually using that way of travel.

Ghosts see a lot of things and mostly they don't care about it, unless they are Richard Jackdaw* who likes to stalk those horny teenagers more often than is appropriate.

*Shameless plug: I wrote a smut piece about our favorite horny ghost called The Horny Ghost (how creative).

"Silencio" is the most used spell in the dormitories, boys' and girls' alike.

Hufflepuffs are the only ones who don't have curtains around their beds! But I bet they can think of other devices to get some privacy. Maybe they're masters of the Disillusionment charm!

On that note: only Ravenclaws have their own in-house bathrooms - with actual bathtubs! Slytherins have to leave their common room, and Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs have to walk quite a while to find the nearest bathroom. [Correction: there are bathrooms, one with stalls, one with stalls and bathtubs, in the Gryffindor common room, but only on the girls' side! (Thanks to @mianeryh for pointing that out!)]

But this is a post about HCs, not actual fact/pointing out lazy game design, so I'd like to imagine that all houses have at least one communal bath/bathroom area very close to their dormitories.

*By the way: In the Slytherin, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff common rooms, the girls' dormitories are upstairs, so they have the stairs turning into slides whenever a boy tries to access them, whereas in the Ravenclaw common room, the girls have to go down the stairs and are "only" protected by two suits of armor guarding the way, which in turn makes it easier to sneak past!

Popular make-out places are: the boat-house, the underground harbor, the loft above the Great Hall, the kitchens (poor house-elves), the Prefects' bathroom, the Restricted Section of the library, any dark empty hallway, any empty classroom/storage room, the Undercroft and the Room of Requirement (if they know of them), ...

*Honestly: anywhere is possible in the large castle that is Hogwarts!

Let's talk fashion: we've all seen the HL undergarments of girls and boys, right? Here is an amazing guide by @tamayula-hl about period accurate clothing and their uses in smut writing, very informative!

So based on that I also believe that horny teenagers got tired of all those buttons and layers very quickly and learned spells to make the undressing easier, and/or used "Evanesco" to get rid of clothes entirely (and conjured them back afterwards) - though tbh, I, as a smut writer, don't care too much about how they get naked. They're wizards/witches, they have their ways!

My most used clothing device apart from simple spells: the convenient flap at the front of boys' breeches.

FANFICTION MASTERLIST - KINKTOBER - AO3

[melithril]

[Adar] Into The West

♫ - Peter Hollens - Into The West

A/N: Had a brainworm with this song for a couple of days, and thought this might have been a cute lil' idea. I hope you ll enjoy! <3

If ever you were t be found somewhere, it was usually the library. Well, the makeshift library. In your current camp, it was space filled with few books, but more of a place for everyone to come and take some time away from every day life. Rare it was that anyone besides yourself was in here anyway, which is why it was always a sure fire thing to start a search party here should you ever have gone missing. 

Often, you couldn't sleep, thoughts running marathons in your head kept you awake. So, instead of waking Adar, who needed the rest, you would slip quietly away and take some time to read. Losing yourself in the solitude meant your brain had time to fully wind down and you would head back to your bed, wrap yourself into Adar, and sleep. 

This was one of those nights, although this time you were not without company.

Stepping into the library, you had been met with a young girl, who was rubbing her eyes and holding a blanket. You had recognized her from the times you kept the children busy in here, reading them stories or letting them be creative.

"Hello, Dura," your voice was soft, so as not to startle her. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded, making her way to you and taking your hand. "Can you tell me a tale so I can sleep?"

Your face faltered, thankful she was in no danger or anything. It was unusual for any of the younger orcs to be awake at this time, so your first thought is worry. Nodding, you led her to your comfy chair and allowed her to climb into your lap. Dura situated herself so she was comfy and cuddled her blanket close, one hand holding some of your hair. 

"How about a lullaby?" you asked, the little girl nodding eagerly. "There is one I know that I have yet to tell you. This song means a lot to me, Dura, I hope you will enjoy it."

You closed your own book and held her closer, your voice low and gentle as you began to sing.

"Lay down Your sweet and weary head, The night is falling, You have come to journey's end. Sleep now, And dream of the ones who came before, They are calling, From across the distant shore."

As the lyrics had begun to fall from your lips, Dura stared up at you, eyes glistening and listening intently. Whether she understood the words you sang or not, the sound alone enthralled her enough to keep listening. You rocked her gently, mind focused solely on getting the child to sleep.

Why do you weep? What are these tears upon your face? Soon you will see, All of your fears will pass away. Safe in my arms, You're only sleeping.

Your mind drifted to your love, Adar, these lyrics in particular reminded you of him. You were his protection from the outside world, he would always tell you that. He would tell you that he was grateful for you staying in his life, that you were his safety blanket. In turn, you always promised to be there for him at the end of the day, and that your arms were open for him any time. Whenever you were needed, you would answer his call. Loving Adar was not easy, and he knew that. But, in spite of it all, you found him to be such a kind man deep down. He had shown you nothing but true love and care in your time with his family. Never once rude, never once had he raised a hand to you. Always, he was sweet to you. You had vowed to always love him through everything, and to be there at the end of the day when you both went to sleep.

What can you see, On the horizon? Why do the white gulls call? Across the sea, A pale moon rises, The ships have come to carry you home.

Adar had awoken, wondering why there was no warmth besides him. After rolling over and reaching his arm out, he knew where you would be. No matter the time, he always went to check on you, even though he always found the same result; you, in your chair in the library, nose stuck in a book. But, just to ease his mind that nothing was wrong, he dressed and headed out of the door and down to you. As Adar edged closer, a faint song was heard and for a second, he thought perhaps he had finally gone mad. 

And all will turn,

To silver glass.

A light on the water,

All Souls pass.

He had reached the door and immediately recognized your voice. Such a beautiful singer, he thought. Peeking around the corner, Adar did not expect the sight before him. Sure enough, you were there, curled in your favourite chair. This time, a small girl on your lap, eyes almost closed as she lulled her way to sleep. It made his heart soar to see you with the child on your lap, swaying her back and forth gently as she lay. It was a warming sight, one he wished to burn into his brain for an eternity. The last thing Adar wished to do was disturb, so he observed you from where he stood, listening to your voice and the lyrics.

Hope fades, Into the world of night. Through shadows falling, Out of memory and time.

Pondering your words, Adar smiled to himself. He knew this song meant so much to you, how you hummed it often. To see you openly sharing it with the little girl, who was most certainly now fast asleep, was beautiful. You were beautiful, to him. Adar felt so lucky to know you, and even luckier to love you. He was never going to throw what you both had away for anything. One day, he would marry you. When peace was made in Middle Earth and he knew war for the orcs was no longer a threat, he would marry you.

Don't say, We have come now to the end, White shores are calling, You and I will meet again. And you'll be here in my arms, Just sleeping.

You glanced down at Dura, who had fallen asleep curled up into you and her blanket. It seemed your song had done the perfect trick. You continued the lyrics, feeling strange to not at least finish the song. You were moments from the end, after all. Your head tilted up at the sound of a shuffle, and you found your lover stood before you, looking ethereal in the pale moonlight creeping in through the window. Smiling, but saying nothing, you received one in kind. Adar sat on one of the chairs opposite you, not interrupting and eager for you to finish.

Taking one of your free hands in his, he simply ran his thumb across the back of your soft skin, eyes never having left your face as you sung. If he could only tell you how you looked to him in this moment, there would not be enough paper in the world to write it down. You broke your eyes from him to look down at Dura, as you finished the song. 

And all will turn, To silver glass, A light on the water, Grey ships pass, Into the West.

Adar placed a quiet kiss against your hand, hoping the movement would not wake the child. He glanced down worriedly as she stirred, but you shook your head, signalling that Dura was most certainly out for the night. You knew you should return her to her family soon, which was not too far, but for the moment, you simply sat with Adar's hand in your own and the crackle of the fire behind you. Soft snores came from Dura, and you looked to Adar as he stared back. His eyes were so full of love, twinkling something terrible in the light. 

In time, you knew this moment would end, but right now, with the child between you, Adar and yourself just enjoyed the calm and serenity of the late night. You were both lost in thought, the need for sleep taking over you both. Before you could deliver the child back to her home, all three of you were asleep. You and Dura on the armchair, her in your lap, and Adar in the seat next to you, still clutching your hand in his own. Your head had come to rest on his shoulder, and as a three you all got some much needed rest with one final thought in your mind. 

This was family.

[starry-eyesanddaydreams]

NSFW Alphabet - Judge Turpin

Buckle in, Rickmaniacs. This one was an experience to write. Trying to go appropriately dark side for this character with my own observations for him. A little plot for this one. In this, Reader is the Judge's wife.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

At first terrible. But as his affection for you grew, so did his care. In his eyes you're not just a conquest, you're his wife. He did swear to care for and protect you, and that includes taking care of you after he's thoroughly wrecked you.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his hands. He likes what he knows he's capable of with them.

On you, he likes your inner thighs. The soft, inviting path to his prize.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside you, on your breasts, your face, he loves to debauch you and make a mess of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He doesn’t have dirty secrets. What he wants, he does.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Very. He's had a lot of conquests and that library of his is a complete guide to smut.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes all sorts of creative positions. But there is something to be said for simple missionary. Having you pinned beneath his large body, completely at his mercy and under his control.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is not a light-hearted man. He's very intense and focused.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn't bother. Most days he doesn't even shave his beard, but you actually quite enjoy his stubble.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

You would not call him a romantic person. But he loves you in his own way and you know that. Calling you things like his "sweet, pretty whore" and treading a fine balance between treating you like a vessel for his lust and his precious little wife.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He'd rather have you do it for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Purity and corruption kink. He loves the idea of turning a sweet, innocent maiden into his wanton, begging harlot. Of course, after some time with him, you're far from innocent, but you know how to play the game still. Bondage and discipline. He really likes shabari, the ways he can tie you up and put you on display for him, and the marks the ropes leave across your body when he unties you. He has rules and how he expects you to behave. If you break these, he takes great pleasure in punishing you. Spankings with his hand, hairbrush or cane, denying or forcing your climax. He wants you to beg for his mercy but he’ll only give it when he feels you’ve earned it.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere the mood strikes. Any room in his house, his judges chambers at the courthouse, in a carriage. One time you took a train journey with him, alone in a train compartment for hours. That was a memorable afternoon.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Watching you orgasm. Seeing you take pleasure in his touch is a heady feeling and he feels addicted to the way you respond to him. He likes to lay you out on the bed naked and make you cum with his fingers, just so he can watch you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Ha! Nothing turns this man off. But while he will push your boundaries and even cross lines at times, you are special to him. He'll push you to your emotional limits, but he'll also make sure you're put back together again afterwards.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Most of the time, he's receiving. He loves having you on your knees in front of him. But if he's in a generous mood, he will go down on you. He'll use this to keep you on edge till your crying and begging for release though.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and rough. He takes his time, pulling back slowly and thrusting hard. He wants to make sure you feel every bit of him before he pounds you so hard the headboard hits the wall.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers when he can take his time, but when he wants to get under your skirt, he will.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He loves putting into practice what he's read in those books. If an idea intreuges him, he'll want to try it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Three rounds, with some recovery time. He's not the youngest man, but his stamina is still high.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No. The only real sex toys around are dildos, and with his posesivness, he doesn't want anything inside you except him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Depends on his mood. Sometimes he’ll just have you without bothering with foreplay. Sometimes he’ll tease you until you’re crying with frustration and begging him to give you release.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

On the quieter side, heavy breathing, grunts and dirt talk.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

As long as he’s getting what he wants, he can be very attentive. When he’s refused or defied is when his dark side really comes out. As long as you’re being his good girl, he can be very indulgent and affectionate with you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Eight inches and pretty thick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. This man is walking lust.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After he's tended to you, he can fall asleep pretty quickly, well worn out.

[intoxicated-chan]

Hey hun saw your requests for the hobbit was open, can I request elrond? Now obviously reader is insecure cause elrond a fair bit older than her/him, and doesn't want elrond to see them as naive. Also the whole elves only love once drives a hard wedge. Do as you please let those creative juices flow like no tomorrow, have a great week hun❤️

𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤? 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐌𝐞?

Summary ➳ Ever since you learned how Elves truly ages, thoughts have been plaguing your mind, luckily Elrond is there to ease your thoughts.

(A/n) ➳ You have a wonderful week too! Thanks for requesting, if there is anything incorrect then please don’t be afraid to correct me. Thanks for reading!

Word Count ➳ 770

Content Warnings ➳ Gender Neutral Reader, OOC Elrond, miscommunication? Insecurities, angst-to-fluff, pet names (Meleth nîn), mentions of the afterlife…

Arewn sat across from you, your eyes glued to the book you’d been studying for the past three weeks. You had asked her for a favor and she happily agreed without listening, she was very patient with you and didn’t question why you wanted to learn Elvish but she knew. It just made her happy you and her father were getting closer and closer. She hadn’t seen him happy for quite some time.

“What is the Elvish word for trust?” She asked, watching you closely as you tapped your finger on the wooden table and flipped through the pages. “It starts with an E.” She gave you a hint after a couple of moments of silence.

“E… E… Estel!” You spoke proudly, only for her to shake her head and laugh lightly. “It’s not?”

“No, it’s Estellio.” You huffed and closed the book, running your fingers through your hair in frustration. “You’ve been studying non-stop. I can see the dark circles that form under your eyes, I hear you through the halls. What’s wrong?”

You fumbled over your words, your eyes wandering around the room, and forming noncoherent sentences. Her hands come to clasp your hands together. “You know you can tell me anything? If you are having any troubles then you know I can take care of it.” She said rather sternly which was unusual for Arwen.

“It’s not like that.” You quickly corrected which made her relax. “I… I’m just worried about what Elrond thinks of me.”

“Why? Did something happen-” She froze for a moment. “You know he loves you. I know it. It may not be my place to say it but I know it’s true. But if you are thinking of this, please, talk to him. I know he will put your mind at ease.” She smiled.

Before you could say anything else in paranoia, she snatched the book from your reach and shoo’ed you off. You walked out of the library and slowly walked to your shared bedroom. A walk that usually took you no less than a few minutes to nearly a half hour.

You were trying to put the conversation to the side but remembered how smart Elrond was, then the next ten minutes were trying to find ways to bring it up with him. And with a deep breath, you entered the bedroom and saw him standing on the balcony of the room.

“M-Meleth nîn?” You whispered, your voice wavering slightly.

He turned to face you with a wide smile. “Your Elvish is getting better.” He walked towards you, wrapping his arms around you, and placed a kiss on your forehead. “We should celebrate, what do you think?”

“...Can we talk?” The seriousness in your voice was enough to startle him, but he collected himself and nodded. “Look, I need you to just listen until I finish, please?”

“Of course.”

“I know that Elves are immortal, and you lived so many more lives than me, more than I can count. And I’ve seen how proud you are of yourself, how everyone speaks so highly of you. It just makes me think that I’ll only be a memory.”

His hands come to your shoulder, tightly. “Is this how you feel?”

“I know I should’ve come to you immediately but I was scared.” You sobbed when he pulled you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry.” You cried into his chest.

“Do not apologize, as someone who is supposed to be fairest and wisest, I let this go right past me. I should’ve known how this would affect you. Please, tell me anything, everything. I don’t want you to ever be afraid to speak your mind.”

“I know you love me, Elrond. But I’m just so scared of the future. For you. I don’t want you to see me as not as smart as you because of our differences.”

“My love for you is not desire or infatuation, and it will never be one-sided. You have done so much for me, and I would never deem you to be a memory if you were gone. I admire you so much, I am proud of you. Not everyone can master Elvish and even attempting is difficult. Please, do not let your worries affect how you feel. Come to me and we’ll talk.”

You closed your eyes and nodded, letting out a cracked okay under your breath. You held him close, tight, but no longer afraid or scared. You felt relaxed in his arms.

“I love you Elrond.”

“I love you too, (Y/n). Even in the afterlife, I’ll find you and continue to love you.”

© Intoxicated-Chan 2023, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.

[gyusimp]

hiii,

first of all I LOVE your work and your writing, it’s incredible how you capture your writing and I find your gyutaro fics to be very spicy yet creative.

I would love if you could make a college fic (or a high school fic, which ever one your comfortable with) where the reader is a shy, nerdy girl who has volunteered to work at the library during summer break at night time. As they’re working they bend over to fix the printer and get stuck or they ask gyutaro to hold some cords so they can reach into the printer to fix something inside the cabinet.

anyways use your imagination I know you wont let me down <3

°•Library nights with Gyutaro•° (Nsfw)

Thank you so much sweet little anon! I'm glad you like my horny nonsense lol. You said you liked spicy so I took the liberty of making your request NSFW since you didn't specify, but if you had something fluff and SFW in mind please don't hesitate to tell me and I'll rewrite a version for everyone, ok? 🍬

⚠️WARNINGS: NSFW content | Smut content | Kimetsu Gakuen AU but both are adults for some reason | MINORS DNI!

Art credits: @ bluethebone on IG

Summer vacation was just around the corner at Kimetsu Gakuen. Some teachers would take turns to rest and to work on planning their classes and some projects for when the students had returned, some students would even take turns to support the teachers in their tasks. It was a task that no one wanted to do, besides you, the only ones who accepted were a red-haired boy with flashy earrings, another with long black hair with mint eyes and a little black-haired girl with blue eyes and a soft voice. It wasn't because your greatest desire in life was to help the teachers, you found out that extra points would be given in some subjects and that would help you maintain a good average in your classes as you did until now, besides, your mother was all day at work just like your dad so being at home all day would be quite boring.

That led you to volunteer as an assistant at the school. Principal Amane introduced you to your classmates and assigned each of them a time and place where they would be collaborating. Tanjiro would help with some repairs inside the cafeteria, Muichiro would be in the playground and gym, Makomo would be in Kimetsu Elementary, and you would be in the library. The others seemed to be very nice and they were, they all ate together with you at lunch time and as the days went by you became very close, Tanjiro even brought you all some cookies from his family's bakery. Today you would be on the afternoon shift, after another boy named Murata joined the volunteering later, you would take turns with him to help in the library. The afternoon shift was very quiet, generally you only had to organize books in their areas, clean and keep everything in its place, you even took the liberty of listening to some music on your airphones and reading a book that was of interest to you .

Today you would continue reading that romantic novel you found yesterday but when you arrived your plans changed. You entered the library with your things, it was always empty but today you found someone inside, a student. And not just any student, it was Gyutaro Shabana.

The guy was known as a delinquent within the school, he always spent time in detention or causing problems for students and teachers, especially the art teacher. Despite that, you embarrassingly had to admit that you found him quite attractive despite his reputation and everyone else thinking otherwise so your heart skipped a beat when you found him here and saw how he examined you from head to toe with one look

"H-hello," You barely said, entering and walking towards your spot at the library reception.

The boy didn't respond, he simply continued doing his thing next to a pile of books and sheets on the table, biting a pencil between his crooked teeth. You couldn't stand it, being so close to Shabana made you nervous. You tried to do anything to keep yourself busy but at the same time admire him from a distance. His hunched posture working in the chair, his blue eyes looking down and his thin fingers writing notes in hasty and poorly legible handwriting. The guy had something that made him uniquely attractive, interesting, sexy in your opinion. Doubt gnawed at you to know what he was doing here on vacation, but it wasn't until the next day that you dared to ask him.

"Summer school and shit" he replied.

Gyutaro was very intelligent but very lazy at times so that led him to get unsatisfactory grades and having to attend remedial classes during the vacations. He thought the same thing happened to you but he didn't hesitate to shamelessly mock you when you told him that you helped the school of your own free will. According to him it was the most pathetic decision he had ever seen someone make in their life. His comments were cruel like a joke but you didn't dislike it at all, you usually joke in a similar way with your closest friends so the time you started spending with Gyutaro wasn't anything new or offensive. You spent this entire week talking to him, he told you that he preferred to go to school in the afternoon since in the morning he was in charge of spending time with his sister and preparing lunch for both of them, then his mother would come home after work and she would take care of Ume while he studied here. Well, in theory, Gyutaro ended up procrastinating most of the time in the library after his math classes with Mr. Shinazugawa, on more than one occasion you found him asleep on the table, playing something on his cell phone or worse, watching videos too spicy even if you were around; you had to call his attention after a woman's moan broke out in the middle of the silence of the library when he thought his airphones were connected to his cell phone.

It was Monday again but this week you wouldn't be seeing Gyutaro because Murata would cover the morning shift, your shift was from 7:00 am - 2:00 Gyutaro's classes started at 3:00 pm then one more hour in the library until he got tired and went home so you could only talk to him via text. Yes, you gave him your contact and he gave you his, which is very unusual for him unless he really likes someone but either way neither of you ended up writing anything to the other. Embarrassment consumed you when you opened his chat so you preferred to talk to him until next week in person. Next monday arrived and you were eager to see him, your heart was beating a mile an hour and as soon as you entered you took care of greeting him and sitting next to him at the usual table, that was the same until Wednesday. On Thursday you were planning to do the same but your plans were affected. Mr. Rengoku needed some printed handouts with readings, exercises and questions for his students in the summer school History class, the man arrived with a smile before going home that day and handed you a USB with the document to to print 20 brochures for tomorrow. Each brochure had approximately 12 pages so your entire afternoon had been taken up next to the printer thanks to the young blond man with the loud voice, you got to work so you wouldn't have to stay late.

From time to time Gyutaro would get up from his chair to hover near you and ask you what the hell you were doing, why you were surrounded by sheets, a whole valley of paper around you. You explained as you organized everything on the computer and programmed the 20 copies on the printer. The device was not very recent and you had to monitor each of the sheets that came out so that it worked correctly until the most feared thing happened. The paper jammed. You tried with your life to move and fix it but the damn thing just didn't obey your orders so you swallowed your shame and went to find Gyutaro to give you a hand.  Both of you examined the machine, checking inputs, cables and so on until it made a very strange robotic noise. 

"Some printers open from the back, have you checked there?" Gyutaro asked while checking some cables.

"You're right, not yet." Gyutaro moved the device to give you access to the back, you leaned over the wooden furniture and began to look for a door or removable piece to unclog the paper.

Gyutaro was trying to help you by checking cables and other things until he finally got grumpy and gave up before smashing the printer against the wall. He took a couple steps back and crossed his arms as he watched you, cursing on the other side. His eyes were on the printer but then they went to your hair, to your arms moving repetitively, to your legs and the pressure that your white stockings caused on your thigh fat and then to your skirt, your butt peeking out shamelessly from under it and it seemed like you didn't know it. The movements you made made Gyutaro's mind fly much further, Shabana is an undoubtedly perverted guy and that was not a secret to anyone. A pressure began to build under his pants, colliding with the beige fabric of his uniform, making him walk towards you and was about to grab your waist with both hands, but he was interrupted by your voice.

"I got it!" You said excitedly, after hearing the printer return to work.

You sorted the paper and made sure to count the pages to resume printing, you were about to return to your chair but Gyutaro cornered you against the desk with both arms next to your hips, it made you very nervous seeing him so close.

"Wow, you have very skillful hands..." he said, smiling at you with many hints.

You didn't know what to do, were you imagining everything? Your cheeks burned in a second and something inside you made you play along.

"I know, I know how to do some things."

Gyutaro smiled mischievously at you, looked at you from head to toe and dared to caress your leg, bringing one hand to your butt under your uniform skirt.

"Really? Why don't you show me instead of bragging, huh?" He said, lifting you onto the desk with both hands, positioning himself between your legs.

Something warmed inside you, the speed in your chest made you smile back at him and grab him by the back of his neck to kiss him on the lips as he approached you. Gyutaro kissed you with desperation and inexperience but that didn't mean it didn't feel fucking good, the blue-eyed boy licked every part of your mouth, kissed your neck and left wet, hungry marks on your collarbones while making you choke on moans when he rubbed his member in the middle of your thighs.

"G-Gyutaro...someone could come." You said, trying to push him away and make him see reason.

"Do you think anyone is still here?" He scoffed. "Don't be stupid, that's why teachers offer high scores if you come to volunteer, everyone is at home while the stupid students do the work they should." He huffed between kisses on your neck.

"B-but, what if a student comes?" Your voice sounded worried despite the desire in it.

"Then they will learn not to mess with my woman."

Hearing him say that turned you on so much, you didn't know if it was because Gyutaro was also aroused that he said that but without a doubt that he claimed you as his without giving a damn about the others turned you to a pulp in his arms. 

Gyutaro's hands went to your shirt to get rid of your green tie and open each of your buttons to leave more desperate, wet kisses on your breasts, leaving red marks on your soft skin and shiny trails of his hot saliva, you grabbed his shoulders and you unbuttoned his shirt too to see his torso. He looked like a very thin boy, actually, his waist was quite small but his chest and arms were very strong. You brought both hands to his chest and caressed him sensually, lightly running your nails over him and playing with his nipples while he devoured you with kisses and nibbled you, with his hands never leaving your butt under your skirt for a second, playing with the lace of your panties. You leaned a little to kiss his neck and trapezius, Gyutaro's collarbones were very pronounced and while you licked his skin in the middle of kisses, you moved your hands towards his back to grab his butt and try to put your hands under his pants but he quickly stopped you. He grabbed both your hands tightly and didn't allow you to move forward.

"I thought you wanted me to show you my skills," you told him, mockingly.

"I changed my mind. I'll show you, okay?" He spoke firmly and authoritatively, making your panties wet.

Gyutaro brushed the hair from your neck and kissed your shoulders roughly until he slowly pushed you to lie down on the desk, leaving your legs dangling. Your hands tangled in his greenish curls, you couldn't help but moan at every touch of his long fingers, he lifted your skirt up to the top of your thighs and began to unbutton his belt and pants until he left his naked member exposed. Looking down and noticing how big he was, the blue eyed boy spit into his palm and began pumping his cock so it dripped more between his fingers, eager to fill you completely. Seeing the "V" shaped lines on Gyutaro's abdomen just above his member made you shiver with pleasure, just below his navel you could see a small trail of black hair. You desperately hoped that Gyutaro would take off your panties or you would do it yourself but when you saw his hand reach towards your core and feel his fingers sliding down your slit it was a much bigger relief. Gyutaro was aware of the risk that someone could get in, so he decided to leave your panties in place and just move them to the side with his index finger, watching with desire how wet you were and how you filled his fingers with small, slippery transparent threads.

"I bet you're really tight." He told you, licking his fingers and pulling your panties aside again.

Gyutaro stimulated your hole with his fingers with a couple of movements but when he felt your soft walls taking him warmly, his ambition made him take his cock and insert it directly into you, making you moan loudly, arching your back, instinctively opening your legs wider to receive him. You could feel Gyutaro stretching you, your moans accompanied his gasps and the sound of the printer doing its job, your uniform was a complete hindrance to both of you until you changed positions and Gyutaro put you face down on the desk. He entered you again and gave you a couple of spanks making you gasp his name.

"I love how you beg for me, you nerdy little bitch." He hissed, drunk with pleasure.

Gyutaro's moans were increasing, he took the audacity to lower his hands to your chest and put both hands inside your bra to massage your breasts while he fucked you. Your legs fought to keep you firm but each thrust weakened you more, you felt your clit throb and your hole get wetter and wetter until a lot of wet sounds filled the library, sweat ran under your knees and you felt drops running between your thighs without stopping, you didn't know if they were your juices. You clenched roughly making Gyutaro moan and curse, picking up speed as you were hit by your orgasm, an electrifying and abundant one that left you trembling beneath him, creating a slippery ring around Gyutaro's cock inside your swollen pussy. You were empty-minded, blinded by lust until you suddenly felt empty all of a sudden. You looked back and realized that Gyutaro had cum all over your thighs and part of the desk. So he pulled out of you before his orgasm.

Gyutaro was agitated just like you, his chest rising and falling and his bangs falling messily over his sweaty forehead, the perfect feeling of your tight pussy still had him seeing stars. You composed yourself and organized your panties and uniform, you noticed that even the 20 pamphlets had finished printing so you reluctantly organized them to finish stapling them tomorrow.

Your face began to burn, becoming aware of what had just happened, you didn't know if Gyutaro had done this because he was simply horny or because he actually liked you. It was something that you would analyze with your pillow tonight so you preferred to say goodbye to him briefly.

"See you tomorrow." You said, grabbing your things.

Gyutaro didn't say anything, he left his backpack where it was and began to walk towards you without taking his eyes off you, for a second you thought he was going to kill you until he took you by the waist and gave you a kiss on the lips, slowly and delicious making you melt again.

"We just fucked and that's all you're saying?" He scoffed, making you blush. "I love you as much as I love your pussy, stupid girl. At least say 'thank you' or some shit."

"I-I... me too- i mean...ok."

Gyutaro couldn't help but laugh at your inability to speak and the deep red painting your face, he finds you very adorable. "Next time we can do it completely naked, okay?" Gyutaro said, giving you a small spank.

That night he offered to take you home on his motorcycle.

[litfeathers]

Before Hunter's Palisman Observations... Before Lilith's Letter... Before Luz's Diary Entry...

A witch's quill scratches on paper, her eyebrows furrowing in thought as she fills a well-worn book with her thoughts and desires and fears.

She smiles at the yellow bird who is fast asleep on her extra pillow, and with a snap of her fingers extinguishes the light spells that had been illuminating her cozy bedroom.

She sleeps.

She dreams…

She dreams of a strange world. A world without magic. A harsh world of rules, and penance, and fear.

A man stands in front of a bonfire, the glow of the firelight dancing on his wild blond hair. He is surrounded by a screaming crowd, torches and pitchforks and fists waving in the air.

"No," she begs. "No, no, no, no."

She calls his name over the cacophony of violent chanting, her voice muffled by the roar of the growing conflagration.

He turns.

She screams.

Blood. Smoke. Fire. The flash of a knife. It all happens too fast.

He is gone.

...and she wakes up.

Welcome to Evelyn's Journal.

Credits: -The phenomenal cover art was drawn by the absolute legend @bananadramaaa. Thank you so much for your help! -The script and Evelyn's voice were written and recorded by Birdie (that's me!) -It's probably pretty obvious, but this project was directly inspired by the audio recordings a few of TOH's VAs did for one of Dana's charity livestreams. Look them up if you have never heard them. They are fantastic!

The audio and script will also be available at AO3 on (or some time after) Sunday, March 26th. You may find it at litfeathers if you would like to give this project some love over there too!

The complete script can be found under the read more, so you may follow along if you wish.

Grab a snack and get comfy. We have an almost 15 minute runtime! Enjoy! 🔥🪶

Scaburary 10th

I had to cover for Bileadona at work. She never showed up for her shift, and so Goldie and I were forced to make an unexpected trip to Bonesborough.

Extra disappointing, since I was planning to spend the afternoon in the garden with my sketchbook. I wanted to redo my blue jay drawing, as I am not quite satisfied with it.

Ah, well. I’ll draw in the garden tomorrow.

Scaburary 11th

UUUGHHH DAMN RAIN!

Goldie has been moping and staring out the window at the sizzling forest all morning, desperately wishing she could have her early morning flight through the trees. I have given her a handful of seeds to help her feel better. She seems pouty still, but has cheered up slightly. She is currently ordering the seeds from most to least appealing. Heh. This should take her a while.

Only two days are left!

Scaburary 13th

Work, work, work. I couldn’t stop watching the sunlight and shadows slowly move across the library floor and sighing impatiently. Bileadona happened by my cart as I was shelving books, and asked why the calendar at my desk is so strange. I told her it was an old-fashioned solar calendar from the bloodievil period. She didn’t seem to buy it, but didn’t push the subject.

I also made a quick…detour before I went home. Just to say hello to some dear friends. Some very special friends who are going to severely regret their actions from last week.

*evil witch cackle*

As an added bonus, I finally managed to nab one of their…creative drawings of me. It is now proudly displayed on my living room wall, just above the couch. Truly, it is a work of art, and I am humbled by their kindness.

I just hope they find my return offering just as humbling ehehehehe.

I have been getting more and more excited for every visit to the Human Realm. Not that I have been there recently. I most definitely have not. Don’t be absurd.

But anyway. This week has dragged endlessly! I cannot wait for tomorrow.

It’s nice to have a friend.

Scaburary 14th, Human Realm year 1623

Today was nice.

It was a Friday in Human reckoning, so Caleb and I enjoyed the usual supper on a blanket in the snowy woods. I made sure to include dragon bacon sandwiches and deviled griffin stew in the spread, as they are his favorites. And of course, a thermos of hot apple blood to warm us up. It was a marvelous feast!

He looks a bit better lately. His skin is less pale, and the shadows under his eyes are less prominent.

The moment I landed at at our spot, Caleb immediately asked me if I had anything to do with the recent vandalism of the Gravesfield meetinghouse. I plead innocent. He grimly informed me that someone had scribbled all over the siding, and that one of the drawings bore a striking resemblance to Goldie. I expressed my deepest sympathies for the poor soul who would have to clean it up. He further informed me that the words “Evie was here” were scrawled over the front door. I told him that since my given name isn’t Evie, it’s Evelyn, he was clearly looking for another culprit. He grabbed me by the shoulders, looked me dead in the eye, and told me, in the most fed-up of tones, that the drawings could move.

“Huh,” I said. “In that case, it sounds like you might have a witch on your hands. I hear they are pretty tricky to deal with, but seeing as you are such an expert witch hunter, you surely won’t have a problem rooting her out!”

At that he made such a ridiculously frustrated face, I could no longer hold in my laughter. It was the look he gets where his cheeks flush and his nose flares. The red even reached his ears this time! Fantastic.

He gave up at that point. He just sighed deeply and shook his head. But I could tell he was desperately trying to hold back a smile.

While we enjoyed our meal, we got on the topic of weather. After my previous deception, he didn’t quite believe me when I told him that rain boils in the Demon Realm. When I cast an illusion to show him a typical Boiling Isles thunderstorm, his eyes lit up brighter than the sun. As fun as it is to tease and banter with him, I think I vastly prefer those quiet moments between us. When the storm clouds lift from his eyes.

*trails off*

I can tell he’s lonely.

Last week, while we were on our owl watch, he mentioned offhandedly that he hasn’t received a proper hug in years.

I was about to feign ignorance and pretend to not know what a hug is, until I realized that…err. Well, we are two galdorpeas in a pod in that regard, aren’t we?

And no, I did not offer myself up. Because some walls are built for a reason.

Caleb is surrounded by pitchforks and torches and prying eyes.

His village is dangerous.

His brother has been asking more and more…questions.

I know I shouldn’t keep doing this. I know I can’t keep doing this. There is a line, and I am terrified that I am gleefully dancing towards it, and one day I am going to be unable to stop myself from crossing into something…

*deep sigh*

…something I cannot come back from.

I am unwilling to admit this anywhere but here. And this is difficult to write, even if my eyes are the only ones that will ever read it. But…

He scares me.

Hah! How silly is that? We’re the closest of friends. I am a powerful adult witch. And I am scared of him?

It makes no sense. Witch hunter my butt! I trust him completely. He is kind. Sweet, even. No matter how much sass and grumpiness he sprinkles into his words, it is abundantly clear that his heart is made of pure gold. His smile could melt snow. His soft words could tame the wildest slitherbeast. His laugh is pure music.

*embarrassed cough*

So, then. Why the fear? Why have I been finding myself so on edge around him lately? It’s incredibly frustrating.

Words are difficult to get out. My pulse quickens when he sits too close. I can no longer look him in the eye without my face heating up. What else could cause this but fear? It is clearly my body warning me that what I am doing is incredibly foolish.

Or perhaps it’s just the apple blood.

*sighs in frustration, then there is a long moment of silence*

No. I’m not that naive. I know it’s not the apple blood. It’s just that…I’m…

I’m not ready.

I don’t have much more I would like to say on this topic, so I suppose I shall end this entry and tuck myself into bed with a good book. Perhaps Goldie would like for me to read her another story.

Here’s hoping for some nice dreams. Titan willing.

Goodnight.

Scaburary 15th

I had the day off from work. I tried to draw in the garden, but my redo of the blue jay sketch came out even worse than the original. I ended up spending most of my day on the couch, half paying attention to a book I could barely focus on enough to read.

I had dreams last night. Dreams I absolutely refuse to relive by writing them down.

Please. Please, please, please let tonight be better.

Scaburary 16th

Oh, Titan. I hate this.

I have made a decision. A decision I am absolutely miserable to be making.

It’s something I can absolutely not back out on. Something I should have done ages ago.

Something I should have done before I got…attached.

No matter what, this will end in pain. But it must end. Before he is harmed. Or worse. I know what I must do. But it hurts. I have to protect him. This week will be rough. Please wish me luck and courage.

Scaburary 17th My chest hurts. My eyes are sore. Everyone has been giving me space at work. I am sure they can tell something is very wrong, but no one has pried. At least I managed to keep it together until I was halfway home. Be proud of my fortitude.

After I was done being sorry for myself, I got an idea. I am unsure if I will be able to follow through with my plan. But if I can find my courage, perhaps I can at least try.

When we say our goodbyes, I can at least ensure Caleb still has a friend.

I haven’t carved a palisman in years. Not since I made Goldie with Mother and Father. And not since they…

*chokes up for a second*

I don’t even know if I remember how. But there is a grove of healthy palistrom trees in the backyard. And I still have my knife.

I even know what he would want.

Fine. Tomorrow I will start carving.

Scaburary 18th I opened my journal to write, but I have nothing substantial to say. This week has been miserable. I wish it were Friday so I could get this over with. Goldie keeps offering me seeds to cheer me up. I’m sorry, Goldie. I appreciate the gesture, but not everything can be fixed with a tasty seed.

Scaburary 19th I sent Goldie to deliver my final rebus message. I got such an excited response back, I nearly lost it again. He has heard a saw-whet owl in the woods by the fields. He wants to take me out there to listen for it. Sounds lovely. I suppose it’s nice to look forward to one last owl watch. What should I do with the remaining Titan’s blood? Dispose of it? Donate it to a researcher? All I know is that I cannot keep the vials. Lest I be…tempted. I’ll miss the birds. Caleb’s gift is drying on the kitchen table. I wonder what wish he will make.

Scaburary 20th I am surprisingly calm. There is something to be said for allowing yourself to…feel. To let your emotions exist, acknowledge them, let them out. That isn’t typically how I operate, but perhaps it can be advantageous to…sometimes…occasionally…not bury everything? As much as I hate to admit it. I was even able to laugh at Goldie’s antics. She brought home a rattle worm and pretended to feed it to our new scarlet friend. She even feigned offense when he refused her gift by remaining silent and wooden. Silly bird! I don’t know what I would ever do without her. I think I will be fine. Once the dust settles. We will all be fine.

Scaburary 22nd I do not know where to start. It is late evening. I am sitting here in bed, journal in lap, as usual. But Goldie is perched on my shoulder instead of her usual spot on my extra pillow. Because my extra pillow is occupied. It is occupied by a blond human and a small red bird. Oh. He just reached out in his sleep to hug my waist. I suppose I’m trapped now. I’ve never been so happy. I’ve never been so happy, and yet so anxious? I can’t stop smiling. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling or swooning or giggling since last night! How embarrassing. How completely and utterly embarrassing! ...Goldie, I know you are reading this. I can hear you laughing! Quit it! I think I’m still in a bit of shock-GOLDIE THIS IS PRIVATE. I haven’t quite processed any of this-I KNOW YOU CAN FEEL MY EMOTIONS AND HEAR MY THOUGHTS! I DON’T CARE! YOU’RE STILL BEING NOSY. WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE WERE BOTH SO OBVIOUS? I SAID STOP LAUGHING!!! Fine. You were right. Is that what you wished to hear? Are you happy now, you smug little feather brain? Good. Anyway. Where was I? Everything happened so…fast. The last 24 hours have been absolutely wild. And terrifying. And…intense. But I think I can finally admit something important, even if it’s only here for now. Let’s see if I can manage to actually write it. Goodness, my hand is shaking. Alright. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this. Here goes… *swoons a little* I’m in love. Goodnight, everyone. Sweet dreams. *snaps fingers, and light spells are extinguished* Sung: You are not alone No matter how far you have flown Together we feel we’re at home In darkness light shines in your bones *As she hums the song fades out*

[enlightenedrobot]

On Harry Potter Syndrome

Whenever there's a milquetoast protagonist surrounded by infinitely more interesting side characters and is easily overshadowed by their actual sidekicks, I call that "Harry Potter Syndrome" and tbh I think it should catch on. Here's some examples.

Fandom(!) Danny is so much more interesting, and tbh, a kid growing up with ghost hunting parents shoulda turned out a lot weirder. Perfect example of Harry Potter Syndrome.

I love you Sora. I love you and your simple/ clean mind. I love how you tear through eldritch abominations with the power of both Love and also blunt force trauma. I also love how you objectively have the least amount of personal trauma and drama out of all of the playable characters in the games you started and I hope the lovecraftian terror of the circumstances surrounding your story never truly register as anything other than a fun adventure to your untainted, rarely used twink brain.

And yet everyone else in the series including the fucking mouse has enough backstory and angst to fill up an entire library with journals of badly written emo poetry or better yet thirteen games with the audacity of pretending to be a trilogy.

Yes, Kingdom Hearts suffers from Harry Potter syndrome, but it's also proof that that might not necessarily be a bad thing.

You guys, Madoka is so good. I swear it's a lot more than just an edgy Magical Girl show. It has amazing art that makes use of mixed media in a really creative way. It's also dark and surreal and surprisingly reminiscent of movies like Donnie Darko and Carrie. It's also incredibly gay.

And Madoka is likable enough, I guess. But also... if I had to nitpick anything about the show, it's that she's also kinda sorta boring? I mean, it is kinda funny seeing an adorable pink haired teenager earnestly talk about desiring "more power". But still.

A New Hope is probably the movie that inspired thousands of other cases of Harry Potter Syndrome, including Harry Potter himself, though I feel the need to point out how deliberate it is with it.

Luke is the Protagonist of the movie, unambiguosly. That's him front and center of the poster, and he's the guy who follows the hero's journey and ultimately comes out looking like the hero in all of this. But he's also not the sole viewpoint character of the film, and I think it's pretty telling that the first third of the movie takes place from the POV of a pair of gay married robots.

Depending on the scene, we take on the POV of either Luke, R2-D2, C3PO, Han Solo, Tarkin, or Princess Leia. Of these characters Luke undeniably fills in the role of milquetoast hero, but George Lucas understood the power of a good ensemble cast from the movie's inception.

And finally

Let's face it, this movie suffers so hard from Harry Potter syndrome, the marketing guys just said "fuck it" and put Johnny Depp on the poster instead.

[whatever-fanfics]

Hiiii! Congrats on 200 followers! 🥳

I'd like to request! Hopefully I'm doing it right hihi

I want 1 (fluffy) with 16 (doing work together) from part 1. And from part 2 I'll let you be creative. I'd like with Isaac or Mozart (Ikevamp). Whichever is easier for you (:

Thank you for requesting, don't worry it did everything right! 😊 I'm really excited you're my first request 🥰

P.S. I made the reader gender neutral, I hope that's alright.

Request: Fluff, with 16 "doing work together" (part 1), with 12 "Can you help me with my hair" (part 2). {Isaac Newton} {IKEMEN VAMPIRE}

~~~

Foolish Genius

Ikemen vampire x reader

Isaac newton x gn! Reader

TW: None

~~~

You sighed in annoyance aggressively shaking your head upwards in an attempt to wrestle with the mane on your head causing you endless frustration. You were elbow deep in old books covered in grime, dust, and god knows what else in the library. Some not having seen the light of day for a year of more. If the opening of the library door didn't catch your attention the small sneeze did.

You and Isaac had a rare day off, so he shyly asked, well it's more like he told you, you offered, and he shyly accepted, in your assistance in gathering information for his research.

"Bless you" you turned to face Isaac, even bothered by all the dust he looked so cute. Sniffling a 'thank you' he turned to you, a bit surprised to see you vigorously shaking your head.

"Are you okay?"

"Hair" you said with one last shake, noticing that Isaac's hands were freshly washed you asked "can you help me with my hair?" His eyebrows raised to his hairline, blush coating his cheeks as he awkwardly scratched one and avoided eye contact with you. He grumbled out an unintelligible response. Afraid you'd made him uncomfortable you quickly added "it's alright if you don't want to"

"NO!" he interjected

"I just..." he trailed off, embarrassed. "Isaac, it's alright" you reassured, "No, I want to, I just...don't..know how" his blush more apparent than ever. "Oh..." you cooed, enamored with how sincere yet adorably embarrassed he looked. "Well here I have a hair tie on my wrist, but my hands are dirty. It's not that hard I'll show you" you put the books down on the table and showed him your wrist. He cleared his throat and made his way over to you, his blush dying down as he did so.

With unsure movements he gently takes the tie off your wrist. Immediately entranced by its material and elasticity, sensing his intrigue you started "it's an elastic hair tie, there's a rubber band on the inside. I have some more in my room if you'd like" at your offer he brightened up a bit, but ultimately focused on his next task. You wanted to laugh but held off on it, looking at his intimidated face.

Isaac breathed through his nose, determinedly, and prayed that his blush wasn't as noticeable as he knew it was before. Besides, it's just tying hair, how hard could it be?

Isaac breathed through his nose in exasperation as he tried to gently shake the hair tie from your hair, you hope he didn't notice the way your face scrunched up when he shook your hair, getting a little tangled form his efforts.

"Are you sure you don't want me to do it, I could just-" "No, it's fine I just-tell me again" he urged you, "okay first put your hand in the band and then grab my hair with the same hand, got it?" you paused, not wanting to overload him with information like before, he started once more. After his countless fruitless past attempts, he was able to pull all your hair through and twist the band "Ah!" his surprise caught your attention. Excited for him, partially because you'd been sitting there longer than you'd been searching. "You did it!?!" while you were happy for him and excited, you tried your best not to move so as to not undue his work. "What next" a bit distracted because of his feat, you quickly answered "right, take the hair through the loop again and twist the hair tie" hearing him swallow thickly practically seeing the sweat drop down his forehead in concentration, it made you happy to know he was taking this so seriously. "Okay, what next" he spoke so thickly, you almost wanted to tell him to relax, "don't worry we're almost done" you eased him. Isaac nodded trying to ease his deep concentration "last step, take the hair through the loop one last time and let the hair tie go" you're hopeful it wasn't as bad as your first time tying your hair.

"Okay" he said carefully letting go, easing his hands down to his side as if he were scared his hard work would fall apart if he let go to quickly.

Raising a hand to lightly feel your hair, you felt more bumps and noticed there were a few strands out of the ponytail rather than in. A strained smile made its way to your face, you hoped he didn't notice, he did. "It's good" a bead of sweat formed on his face as he sensed the falsity of your statement.

Seeing the melancholy look overtake his face you said "believe it or not, for your first time. You did really well" well he did feel a little better after hearing you. Looking back up, fully taking in your appearance, a small laugh escaped his throat. Which in turn escaped yours.

~~~

A small hum escaped the young girls mouth as she shifted her weight, waiting for her father to finish her hair.

"Keep still" he mumbled out deep in concentration. She mumbled in response ready for this to be over. She had to get out early in order to talk with the girls about why-"all done" her dad said leaning down to kiss her cheek. He'd gotten better with affection since it was the main way his daughter knew how to show affection.

"Papa" she turned around to see him standing up to button his collar. As he mumbled out a response in acknowledgement she asked "where did you learn to do hair?" He turned to her, surprised, as she felt the braids in her hair. He cleared his throat as a blush took over his features "your-your mother taught me", though some things never change, he answered in a small voice. Clearing his throat once more he asked her why, "cause all the other girls at school don't believe me when I say my mom and dad do my hair, they say dad's can't do hair." She paused for a moment, then continued "I think..it makes you...better..than the other dads." She turned around so he wouldn't see her blush. He knew his smile was evident yet he couldn't bring himself to care. Nothing would beat the happiness he felt from hearing her say that.

~~~

First one down 😚

[kelcemenow]

Your Voice - Chapter 1.

Pairing Travis Kelce x Reader

Words 1118

Warnings Strong language, that's all.

This Anon request piqued my interest as I used to read a lot of Soulmate AU fanfiction 'back in the day' and I really liked this idea! AU's give me so much creative freedom...and a chance to go back to college Travis!! Now, I wasn't going to make this a series but as I was writing, I realised it is going to have to be as I had a great idea for it! I hope you enjoy! "Can I request a Travis k x soulmate au? pls 😩"

CHAPTER 1

"What did your Soulmate say today?"

You looked up from your lunch, pausing from pushing a piece of lettuce around the plate with your fork.

"Go long, man." You rolled your eyes as you repeated what you had heard earlier that day, "I'm honestly past caring at this point."

Chloe clapped her hands and jumped a little in her seat, "So, he's a sports guy? Maybe we should scope out the teams and see if you recognise anyone's voice?"

You sighed, "Chloe, I really don't care anymore. I've been hearing his voice for 3 months now. This college is huge, it would take me forever to find him here. Plus, some days I can't even make out what he's saying, it's so faint and muffled, I doubt I'd even recognise it."

Chloe twisted her mouth as she thought, "I could get us some invites to the jock parties?"

"You're not listening to me at all are you, are you?" You returned to your salad.

"We'll get you looking super hot, see if the voice gets louder at any of them, get talking to guys and then before you know it, you've found your Soulmate!"

"No, then." You said whilst chewing on your chicken.

Chloe reached across and held your hand, "But this is so exciting. Think of poor me, Y/N. My Soulmates voice was so loud back home, I come here and now I can't hear him at all. You've actually got a chance of meeting yours, he's obviously here! So, let's go and find him."

You stared across the lunch table at her, your face unchanging.

Chloe slowly retreated back into her seat and picked up her Diet Coke can, "Okay. I'll try again later."

______________________________________________________________

You stretched in your seat, rubbing your eyes and looking down at your watch.

10.15pm.

You ran your hands through your hair and closed your study books and files, calling it a night. Looking around the library, you noticed that you were now the only one there. You packed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder. The campus was relatively quiet as you walked back to your dormitory, the night sky quickly darkening with the dusk. Your footsteps rang out into the night, accompanied only occasionally with muffled music coming from the nearby houses. Suddenly, a tall figure appeared ahead. You instinctively grabbed the strap of your backpack, ready to launch the heavy contents if needed. Each step seemed to get louder in your ears and the sky darkened further.

As you got closer, the figure turned to face you and the dim streetlights revealed the stranger.

"Oh, Travis. It's just you." You sighed in relief.

Travis Kelce wasn't a complete stranger to you. He was a pretty big character on campus, but didn't exactly run in your circles. He was holding a bottle of beer and was stood on the steps of one of the sorority houses, presumably having stepped outside from a party.

Travis smiled as he saw you, "Hey, Y/N. You coming in?" He pointed towards the front door with his bottle.

You shook your head quickly, "Oh no, I've been to the library."

"On a Saturday night?" He snorted a laugh, "Man, you know how to party."

You quickly raised your eyebrows, "Yeah, anyway. I'm just heading home."

Travis wrinkled his nose, "On your own? Nah, fuck that."

You held a hand up, "Really, it's fine. It's a short walk, like 2 minutes. I'm okay walking by myself."

"To hell you are. Come on, I'll walk you back, make sure you get there safe." He began to walk away from you.

"Travis, really-"

He stopped and turned back slowly, "Either you walk with me or I follow 20 yards behind you."

You smiled and sighed, "Okay, okay. Fine."

As you caught up to him, you heard the front door of the house open and a high-pitched voice shouted out.

"Travvy, baby? Where are you going?"

Tiffany, Travis' girlfriend was gripping onto the side of the door frame, seemingly to keep herself upright. She had bleached blonde hair, a modelesque figure and the reputation as one of the most popular girls on campus.

You stayed looking ahead to the sidewalk as Travis looked over his shoulder at her, "I'm just walking Y/N back to her dorm."

"Why?" Tiffany squeaked.

"Why? Because she's walking on her own and there's creeps out there." He shouted.

You glanced quickly to see Tiffany pull a face before slamming the door closed.

Travis turned back to you and raised his eyebrows.

"Really Travis, you go back to the party. I don't want to cause any issues with you and Tiffany."

"What issue? I'm just walking you home...to make sure you're safe." He cleared his throat, "Besides, Tiffany has an issue with everything I do."

You walked together in a slightly awkward silence, Travis taking a sip of his beer every now and again.

After a while, Travis turned to you, "Can I ask you a question?"

You nodded.

"Can you hear your Soulmate's voice?"

You smiled softly, "Sometimes yeah. Sometimes it's really loud, but it's mostly muffled so I can't make it out easily. Sometimes it's really quiet and it's impossible to figure out."

He looked down at his feet, "That's weird. I wonder why it's muffled."

You shrugged your shoulders, "No clue. I wish we got more, it would make it so much easier."

"Yeah, one sentence a day sucks."

You walked in silence for a few more steps.

"Is Tiffany your Soulmate?"

Travis laughed, "Nah. She's cool and all...but she's not...no."

"Are you looking for your Soulmate?"

Travis tipped his head to the side, "In a way. I mean, I hear her voice. And I listen for it as much as I can. But I'm so busy with class and football that sometimes I miss it. That's why I was outside of the party, I needed a bit of quiet time to see if I could hear her."

You looked ahead to the tall building, slowly your walking pace slightly, "This is me."

Travis looked up, "Oh, that was fast."

"Yeah, I told you it was two minutes." You giggled.

Travis rocked back on his heels, "Well, goodnight. I'd better get back to..." He trailed off as he looked back in the direction of the party, a slight frown on his face.

"Yeah. Thank you...for walking me back." You awkwardly held your hand out to Travis.

Travis looked at your hand and smirked, grabbing it tightly, "No sweat. I'll see you around?"

You nodded and headed to the front door, turning your key in the lock and stepping in. Travis watched as you disappeared into the lobby, smiling to himself.

______________________________________________________________

I'll warn you now, this fic is going to get real fluffy, real soon. I've had the idea of the chapters alternating between the point of views. So, the next chapter will be from Travis' perspective and then from the readers, and so on. If you want to be on my Taglist, just let me know!

Taglist @rd14 @dandelionwrites8 @keiva1000 @fantasywritersstuff @caelipartem @anacarangel @she-lives-in-her-dreams @kkrenae @kristencochefski1125 @countrygirl120983 @charmed2000 @nouis-bum @cixrosie @delicateearthquakellama @wordsaresimple-imnot @amylouwho9 @queenisa17 @talicat713 @luvvtrent @purecinnamonextract @savaneafricaine @caelipartem @beyxgrande @caitdaniels @ezgirl1108 @vir-tual @lightsoutstyles @macey234 @s294749w @kelcemesoftly @calirindo @livinginmyfantasies @bernelflo @secretmywritingfictionlawyer @killatravtramp @there-goes-thefighter @unicornblueberry @calirindo @tjkelce87 @kristinamae093 @kmc1989

[changingplumbob]

New Goth: Chapter 4, Part 4

Harvestfest wraps up

CW: Mentions of death Content Warning Guide

Savannah is the twin in pink with hair clips Mercedes is the twin in blue without hair clips

Full family photo! Then Milton decides that while everyone is here he may as well show them the puppet show he’s been working on.

Rahul: What is it called

Milton: School

Cassandra: I think I’ll have to watch from a seat if that’s okay

Savannah: Mama has a baby inside so she needs to be careful

Mercedes nods halfheartedly while Milton slips on the puppets and begins his tale.

The show isn’t all that bad. Of course at creativity level 3 it isn’t all that good either… There are a few funny jokes in it that make the Chopra’s laugh though, Rahul is the best audience a kid could want. Alexander and James are using the time that Milton is being watched to work out in the home gym. They’ve already seen many versions of this puppet play from Milton. Hamlet hangs around for a while hoping for a pat but the viewers seem engrossed.

In the end Milton receives a round of applause from the family.

Savannah: We should have a puppet theatre

Mercedes: Why

Savannah: We could do stories together

Mercedes: But we can do that with dolls. Why change

Rahul: You’re not a big fan of change are you Mercedes

Mercedes: No papa. But I would like a treehouse

Rahul: *laughs* Come on you two, we should find Uncle Alexander and Uncle James and thank them before we leave

Savannah: Why

Rahul: Good manners that’s why. Now come along

Savannah: I’d like an older cousin

Mercedes: I don’t want one to boss us around like Milton does

Milton: I heard that

Rahul: Girls, I said now!

Twins: *quickly standing* Yes papa

As they leave the library Milton sighs and turns to Viola.

Milton: Did you have a good time Viola

Viola: Ye ye, gooey. Ug?

Milton hugs the toddler who is happy with the attention. Alexander and Cassandra walk in talking and the youngest Chopra is scooped up.

Cassandra: We better be getting back to Henford

Alexander: Before storytime? I need practice

Cassandra: I doubt a teen would like you reading to them but what do I know. I think my ones are getting tired, and I may need a nap myself

Alexander: Take care of yourself sis

Cassandra: I will, and if I don’t Rahul does

The rest of the day passes quickly. Alexander has joined the critic career with his eye on being a food critic, finding it a great way to combine his literature degree with his cuisine hobby. James takes care of chores around the house since he is a neat sim after all. Alexander practices his research and debate until he hits level 4, coincidentally enough the level he needs for promotion. James meanwhile spends some time playing games online with Joey, Keira and Marta.

Milton looks at this toys again before bed. He’s glad Alexander got them for him, he’d missed them. Who knows if Bella’s journals would provide any answers as to where she was, but he wanted to keep trying. He only had one mummy, and he missed her every day. Of course in the middle of the night he woke up from a bad dream and realised the way to protect himself was clear, bear suit! Before we knew it Monday was here and Hamlet was waking everyone up accordingly.

James decided to spend the day doing something he loved, fishing! He invited the club around to check out the stream that ran along the edge of the property. It had begun to snow but with no ice the fish should be biting. I had hoped they would all deposit themselves along the stream but nope. Bob decided his time was better spent upstairs watching the culinary channel. Reece caught something! It wasn’t a fish but hopefully his skill has gone up a little.

After school...

James: How was school today

Milton: Good and bad. Can you help me with my project please Uncle James? It's meant to be a volcano

James: Sure, as an ex-teacher I know my way around a fake volcano. Now tell me about school. Why was it good and bad?

Milton: I gave the note from Alexander to my teacher about my costume and she was fine with it

James: But?

Milton: *sighs* Reynaldo and Maria hung out with me but everyone else avoided me

Friendly reminder that the twins go to a different school, I promise they were not avoiding him.

James: Don’t worry about "everyone else", focus on your friends. If they still think you’re awesome enough to hang around with no matter what you want to wear, they’re good ones

Milton: I guess. It’s just hard. People treat me different even before I was in this

James: Milton... your father died and we don't know what happened to Bella. Many of the kids in your class won’t be able to think about what that means, and won’t know what to say about it. Sometimes if people don’t know what to say they’ll say nothing

Milton: I don’t miss father so much now. But I need to know what happened to mummy

James: If you need any help going through those journals I’d be happy to help

Milton: I know but… I want to do it by myself. It helps me feel close to mummy. There, is the volcano done?

James: Almost. Now you have to present it

Milton: Present it?

James: Practice for class. I’ll be a good audience and you'll be prepared for your classmates

Joey decided to swing around for dinner to catch up with everyone. It’s leftover ham from the holiday so everyone ends up feeling a bit dazed. Alexander has to go write another column for work afterwards so James, Milton and Joey put in some gaming time. I’m not sure how Milton does in the bear suit but he’s not sad so we’ll stick with it.

Previous ... Next

[scftpcws]

BEST ONE YET | W.W

The Wonka story that you (a five of you) have been waiting for!!

This was actually so fun to write. I love him sooooo much man!! he’s so pookie wookie.

Anywaaaayyys… lemme stfu.

SFW! Warnings: None

“What is he doing?” Noodle watched Willy intently as he scrambled quickly between various items on his desk.

“He’s been sat like that for hours, Miss Noodle.” Lofty sighed, walking closer toward her as they stared at Willy. His hands scribbled quickly in a small notebook he had laid on the table. His hands moving to his tousled brown locks every few minutes to run his fingers through it, almost as if to pull an idea from the roots of his hair.

But he had none.

He had been working for hours, frantically wracking his brain, creating ‘new’ ideas, ultimately scrapping them because they didn’t seem right. It’s like every creative bone in his body had shut down and it was infuriating. He needed something new, and he needed it now. It was like everything he came up with already existed in his shop and all new ideas were either remakes of old ones or just compl unfeasible. Flying chocolate? He had that. Chocolate that made your life feel like a musical? he had those too. Giraffe milk macaroons that made you feel confident? Already got them.

He felt useless. He needed something better. Something new that people would enjoy, but he couldn’t seem to come up with anything for the life of him.

He sighed deeply, resting his head against the small wooden table in his workshop underneath the Wonka Chocolate Factory. Noodle looked at him pitifully and walked to where he had slumped in his chair. “Maybe you should take a break. Walk with me?” Noodle suggests holding his hat and jacket out to him, a warm, comforting smile on her face. he looked up at her, ready to say politely decline and get back to his work, before noticing the pleading look in her eyes. “Fine. But only for an hour.” he warned smiling dully, the motion not quite meeting his eyes.

They walked through the town, arm in arm, a bright smile on Noodles face, a sullen expression on Willy’s. She noticed that he was thinking too much. He was always thinking too much but that was the last thing he needed. “Will you stop thinking about your next big confection for 5 minutes?” she teased playfully as she poked him in his rib, pulling him from his darkened thoughts. He breathed in hard, closing his eyes and clearing his mind. The pair stood outside of the Town Library, where Noodles mom worked, Where y/n worked.

“Noodle what are we doing here?” he asked, usual joy and exuberance traded for a feeling bordering misery. Noodle ignored him completely and pulled him through the front doors. The scent of old books and warm fires surrounded them as they left the chilly winter air outside the heavy doors of the library.

“Hello darling, hello Mr Wonka! What brings you here?” Noodles mom smiled sweetly, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. At this Willy felt a twinge in his chest, his heart almost constricting in his ribcage. “Willy’s in a but of a creative slump and needed a distraction. Is Y/n around?” Noodle responded, watching the way his face lit up slightly at the brief mention of her name. Her mother didn’t miss it either as she smiled to herself mentioning that she was reorganising books in the Romance section. “If she’s busy then it’s alright. I can come back another time.” he apologised, swallowing hard and looking down at the floor. This was so unlike him, he thought. He knew she wouldn’t mind him visiting, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that she wouldn’t want to see him.

“Nonsense, she’s just over there. She’s been hiding in that nook for an hour, it’ll do the poor girl some good to see something that isn’t a book for a little while.” She smiled again before taking Noodle away from him. He Inhaled deeply, taking off his hat and with cold, shaky fingers messing with his hair so that it looked a little more presentable than usual. He walked with a large deficit in confidence, a stark contrast to his usually stark contrast to his usual demeanour. he rounded the corner tentatively, then he froze.

There she was. Sat with her legs crossed, her face practically buried in a small hardback cover of ‘Pride and Prejudice’. She was so beautiful, the dim light of a small oil lamp illuminated the small nook in the library, creating an alluring glow around her like an aura. He couldn’t breathe. All of a sudden the air was ripped from him, his jacket too tight and the collar of his shirt clinging to his neck desperately. He blinked slowly, his mouth dry and his palms cold and clammy. He couldn’t do this. Not today.

He turned to leave just as she looked up and noticed his presence. “Willy?” she spoke sweetly, his name like honey on her lips, like a song made only for her to sing and for his own ears to hear. “I’m sorry to bother you. I should go.” he muttered quickly, almost unwillingly, starting to take a step away from her. She was somehow too much and just enough all at once. He couldn’t be around her yet he longed for her more than anything. She smiled knowingly at him and patted the small pile of cushions next to her.

“Sit with me.”

He walked over to her, taking off his coat and settling himself into the corner where she sat. He could see her clearer now. The radiant glow of her skin under the bright yellow light of the lamp. The way her fingers traced the thin pages of the book as she waited for him to get comfortable. “What’s wrong Willy?” she asks, gently placing a hand on his thigh. It was seemingly nothing romantic yet that simple touch reddened his cheeks and stole his breath from his lungs.

“Nothing”, he lied. “All is well. Just came to visit, thats all.” he gave her a gentle smile, unable to muster his usual unrelenting energy. It worried her. Something was seriously wrong and he clearly did not want to talk about it. So she wouldn’t force him. She would be there, just sit and relish in his presence as he relished in hers. She placed her head on his shoulder, leaning into the warmth of his body, sighing as she felt the tension in his shoulders dissipate. His head soon met the top of hers, the two of them sitting in calm and relaxed silence, all that could be heard was the turning pages of her book and the steady thrum of their hearts beating in sync.

They sat in a soft, warm and familiar silence before he straightened up, looking down at her, his eyes soft and brows furrowed. “You believed in me when no one else wanted to. Why?” he asked. His voice low and melancholy. She looked up into the pools of green in his irises, they seemed to swim with doubt and self consciousness, and well with salted tears. She sat up, her hand coming up to his face and cupping his cheek so gently as if he were porcelain and would break if he wasn’t handled with care and delicacy.

“Well, you were so passionate, so driven. How could i not. Your energy, your love for what you do is infectious like an illness, but one that renders the sufferer incapable of quitting, incapable of turning away from their dreams. You inspired so many people to do what they love. Even me.” She spoke ever so softly, almost whispering as she looked straight into his eyes as they stared back at her own, so full of love and hope. His posture loosened and his face fell into a sweet and dopey smile as her hands tucked some of his hair behind his ear and toyed with the sweet little curls that hing by his ears.

He couldn’t pull his eyes from hers no matter how hard he tried. They trapped him and intoxicated him. He couldn’t get enough. He let out a shuddered breath he didn’t even notice he was holding.

“You are so beautiful, Y/n.”

She blinked quickly, moving her hand from his face. He had screwed up. The one time he thought he could have something nice, something so simple yet so complicated, so sweet and comforting and he ruined it. He turned his face, embarrassment burning his skin, causing his cheeks and ears to flush scarlet. He felt her fingers on his jaw, their grip soft yet commanding. She pulled him into her and placed her lips on his.

His eyes closed out of pure instinct as his hand reached up to cup her jaw.

They moved gently together, the kiss sweet and bruising, like raspberries that weren’t quite ripe and fresh honey, warm and saccharine. She pushed him backward slightly so that his back rested agains the multitude of pillows behind him, her thighs either side of his waist, her eyes staring down into his once more.

“I think i just got an idea.” he grinned playfully, the smile stretching wide across his lips, his eyes bright with wonder and that almost childish excitement that had drawn her to him in the first place. “Oh yeah? What is it?” she smiled down at him, his hands planted firmly on her waist, their compromised position shielded from the rest of the world (the library) by the looming bookshelf full of books so similar to their own love story.

“I want to make something that tastes like your lips.” She was confused for a moment but then her heart fluttered at the idea of him dedicating something he loves so deeply to her.

“I can’t let you do that.” she giggled softly, brushing his hair from his face once again.

“C’mon, it’ll be my best one yet! It’ll be sweet like” he paused, pressing his lips on hers again tasting the sweetness of her kiss on tongue. “let me think. Ah! Sweet like honey and fresh like” he took a moment to kiss her for a third time, his tongue dipping passed her lips and running itself along her own. “hmm, raspberries. Promise i’ll make it good just for you!” he beamed, a grin so mischievous yet genuine and gentle settled across his lips. She couldn’t help but kiss them again.

“Promise it’ll be the best one yet?”

“It’s inspired by you how couldn’t it be?”

hope you guys like it as much as i do <3

taglist : @sydneyyymayyy @lucky-cleric

[maraschinomerry]

Hey I would love to have some more george x reader fanfictions, I totally agree that there are not enough around her👀 can you do the sparring prompt 1 and 8 (but instead of hair maybe some clothing that's more revealing than usual?) And friends to lovers and mutual pining and awkwardness and all that🥺 thank you in advance 🩷

How To Stand

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: After losing another fight, George offers to give you some training with your rapier. When things get more intimate than expected, he has to keep you on your feet in a different way.

Content: injury mention, friends to lovers, mutual pining, kissing, fluff

A/N: thank you again for the request and all the love on my other fics!! Sorry it's taken so long to get this one done, work has been super busy 😣 Also this fic has taken me past the 12,500 word mark since I started writing last weekend so thank you to everyone who has requested or read for inspiring me to be creative again, I'm blown away by all the support!

Word count: 2.8k (exactly, which is very satisfying)

You winced at the bite of the antiseptic.

"Sorry," George mumbled, dabbing lightly at the cut on your arm.

Last night's case had led to a nasty run-in with a relic man who turned out to be more proficient with a knife than you were with a rapier. You'd only recently begun your training, to be fair - after running away from home, you'd reunited with your childhood best friend, George Karim. Both of you were talented, and you had nowhere else to go, so despite your lack of experience George had managed to blag you a place in Lockwood & Co. In the weeks since you had joined your skills with Touch and Sight had proved invaluable, but as your injuries continually demonstrated your skills with the blade left much to be desired.

"We really should think about getting you some more training," George half-joked as he carefully applied a dressing to the wound.

"Only if it's from you," you replied.

"Really? Wouldn't you be better off with Lockwood? He's a pro, or even Lucy is better than me."

"Hey," you interrupted, sharper than you meant, "don't sell yourself short! I've seen you in a fight, you're amazing! Besides, you really think I'm not going to be super intimidated trying to learn from Mr 'I beat Quill Kipps in a tournament and framed the article on the staircase'?" You both laughed.

"Fair point. Okay, rest up, it's been a Iong night. We'll start tomorrow afternoon, wear something comfortable."

—

The two of you spent an easy morning together in the library, George with research for the next case and you with your favourite book. Almost in time with the clock in the hallway chiming one, a low rumbling came from the chair opposite you. George had forgotten breakfast again. Quietly, trying not to distract him (though it would take more than a little movement at this point), you snuck out to prepare lunch.

Five minutes later, the familiar scent of tomato soup and cheese toasties had George out of his seat and loitering in the kitchen doorway.

"You're the best," he sighed. Much as he loved his Iranian dishes and the personal time he got preparing them, he secretly loved when you cooked for him. You'd been doing it ever since you two were children - simple things like pizza or your signature toasties to begin with, warming stews or toad in the hole now you were older. Whatever it was, it was always homey and comforting. Kind of like your presence, if he was being honest with himself. Even the most stressful situations were easier to deal with when you were around; he knew you trusted him with your innermost secrets and in turn he could talk to you about anything. Well, almost anything. He wasn't sure he would ever work up the courage to tell you about the way he got butterflies every time you smiled, the way his knees went weak whenever your hand brushed his, the way he almost lost his resolve last week when you wiped a stray crumb off his cheek. If only you'd…

"Hey," you prompted lightly at a very zoned-out George. No use tapping his shoulder or raising your voice when he got like this, it would only startle him, you just had to wait for him to ride it out. After a moment, his eyes slowly refocused.

"Sorry, I was miles away."

"Ah," you smiled, not knowing the effect it had. "Go anywhere nice?"

Incredibly, he thought. "I'll bring you a postcard next time."

Your giggle brightened up the whole room as you set two bowls and a plate down on the table. You weren't sure when you'd started the tradition of your toasties being on a shared plate, but down the line the two of you had realised you ate slightly less and George took the leftovers, so it was easier to put them together in the first place. Somehow he always managed to leave you just the right amount.

—

After lunch, George began the washing up (another tradition, whoever didn't cook would clean) while you went to get ready for your first training session. You weren't particularly sporty, but you did have a gym wear set that you thought would be okay to practise in. Besides, you'd never actually worn it since joining the agency and that was simply not acceptable, you felt far too cute in it to let it sit there gathering dust. Hopefully George would think you looked cute in it too.

No, no, no. You couldn't go down that road. You'd always loved George as a friend, but it wasn't until you reunited and started living together in 35 Portland Row that you really fell for him. All the little quirks that had drawn you to him as a child, that felt like you were looking in a mirror, now made your heart flutter. Even little things like the way he pushed his glasses up was cute and made you fixate on his hands a little too much. One time, you'd tried to be more flirty with him, and the poor boy had seemed so perturbed that you hadn't tried again. Message received.

Heaving a sigh, you redressed the wound on your arm, which was healing nicely, and made your way down to the basement.

—

Your eternally bouncy footsteps echoing down the steps drew George's attention from polishing his rapier. A rapier which he almost dropped straight into his foot, jaw closely following its descent.

The first thing he saw was a pair of brightly coloured trainers. Next came toned calves, on show beneath cropped, tightly-fitting leggings. Above those leggings, which had sculpted themselves round your hips, was the cause of George's lapse in dexterousness: a glimpse of previously unseen bare skin, your stomach, exposed by a loose crop top. Having temporarily forgotten how to breathe, George used the last of his oxygen-fuelled sanity to force his gaze up to meet yours, and you shifted nervously under his scrutiny.

"Will this be okay?" you asked, thinking he was concerned about your ability to fight in it.

"Ye- uh, yes. You look…" Amazing. Radiant. Divine. Unbelievable. Incredible. Hot. "Comfy." What the hell, George, get it together. He frankly wondered how he ever expected you to like him the way he liked you if that was the best he could do.

Nonetheless, you relaxed back into yourself as you beamed at him. "Good, you did say to wear something comfortable."

George smiled back, pleased to know you paid so much attention to his words, before finally taking notice of the fresh dressing peeking out from beneath your short sleeve. As if guided by an invisible force, he moved closer to you, raised fingers ghosting over the bandage.

"Will you be okay working out with this? I don't want to risk reopening the cut." His voice wavered, barely noticeable had he been talking to anyone but you. You responded with a simple nod, trying to disguise the way your voice had caught in your throat and hoping the movement would dislodge it. A flash of realisation crossed his face as your eyes met and he hastily stepped away, the mask of Researcher George descending once more.

"Okay, let's get started. The first thing we need to work on is your stance and grip - although they seem trivial, they are in fact vitally important to your success rate."

—

You spent the next half an hour drilling stances, mimicking the way George held himself and him in turn glancing back to give pointers on how far apart you'd placed your feet or whether you were leaning too far in any direction. Sometimes the pose would call for raised arms and his directions would come out a little fumbled as your top rode further up your stomach. He tried not to let his gaze linger too long. It was more difficult than he expected.

When he was satisfied you’d got the hang of the stances, he announced it was time to fix your grip. You weren't entirely sure what he meant - your grip was firm, knuckles clenched around the hilt.

"Grip isn't about how tightly you hold your rapier, but how effectively," he explained, tone the same as if he were explaining the history of an artefact. "If anything, it should be a little loose to enable you to pivot to meet an unexpected blow. Make it an extension of your arm." He demonstrated, and you watched in mild confusion as he swung it further than the natural movement of his wrist would seem to allow. Then, he turned to try and advise you on how to improve. His head tilted left, then right. He moved round to your left, then right. Your position wasn't bad, per se, but as he compared your hand to his he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to explain what needed adjusting. Perhaps partly due to the lingering thought in the back of his mind about how much he wished it was his hand you were holding instead of the rapier. Willing his brain to cooperate, he flexed his hand to figure out what exactly it was he did to get it how it needed to be. Got it. Sort of.

You watched the gears spinning behind George's eyes as he moved around you, hand shifting occasionally. Eventually he settled almost over your shoulder.

"Do you mind if I…?" He trailed off, miming putting his arms around you.

"Sure." Your response was far quicker than you expected. You prayed he didn't notice. What you noticed was the shaky breath he drew in as he repeated the action around your waist, hands coming to rest over yours. The cold metal of his belt buckle against the exposed skin of your back made you gasp, both from shock and from how close it meant he was.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"It's okay," you returned, beginning to turn but stopping yourself when out of the corner of your eye you were confronted with his face just inches from yours. You'd been in each other's personal space before, hugging when one of you was upset or falling asleep slumped together after particularly gruelling cases. It would be so easy to turn just a little further, to where your noses and lips were level, to… You snapped your focus back to the rapier you were both holding, giving George a clear view of the rosy flush spreading across your cheek. Those fingers that you had fixated on so many times, as they flicked through pages upon pages of research or skimmed over the spines of books in the Archives, now folded over your own and gently nudged them into the correct position. It astounded you, the care he once again took to not cause you any discomfort with his actions. First when he’d dressed your wound, and now this. His thumb had come to rest on the inside of your wrist, and it was only your own knowledge of first aid telling you he would feel his own pulse that kept you from panicking about the way yours was racing beneath it. Subconsciously, you leant into him a little, marvelling at the pressure on your back from the rise and fall of his chest. Your hold on the rapier felt better now, more flexible and somehow stronger for being loosened up. George gave your hands a small squeeze as if to set them in place.

“How does that feel?” His voice ghosted over the shell of your ear, huskier than you’d expected and so, so close. You knew he was talking about the grip, but between his hands still over yours and his body pressed so close, your thoughts got away from you.

You couldn’t help it.

Your knees buckled.

George reacted immediately. His hands never left your body for a second, trying to support you through whatever had just happened, but they slid from your hands up to your elbows and then jumped to a firmer grasp at your waist, twitching involuntarily against the tingle of warm skin.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly, moving with one hand gliding over your stomach and the other following across your back until you were facing him. He wanted so badly to be respectful of your boundaries, conscious of how this would look if anyone were to walk in at that moment, but he was far more concerned about keeping you steady with the way you’d almost collapsed against him. Was it exhaustion from the endless string of cases? Blood loss from your injury? Something more major?

“I’m fine, it’s nothi-” The words died in your throat. George was staring at you, his cheeks burning. You were used to him looking at you differently to the rest of the agency, throwing longsuffering glances when Lockwood and Lucy were up to their usual antics or a nostalgic smile when you talked about your childhood together, but this was something altogether different. His lips were slightly parted like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening (neither could you), eyes warm and sparkling with surprise, tenderness, and something else… Hope?

“Please tell me it’s not nothing.” The words fell from his lips quietly and freely as his gaze flickered down for barely a second. His eyes widened a little. “I mean, don’t say you’re fine if you’re not. I want to be sure you’re alright.”

That sparkle in his eyes had dimmed, replaced by a backpedalling into dullness that always came with feared rejection. You’d seen it many times over the years - in his eyes the first time he spoke about being the weirdo of his family, in your own in the hallway mirror when you registered Lockwood’s hesitation about hiring you. But it hadn’t entirely taken him over yet, and you’d be damned if you were going to be the reason it did.

“Is that really what you mean?” you asked softly.

“Yes. No!” His blush darkened and his eyes closed for a beat as he took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say, I guess, is yes, I mean I want to make sure you’re alright, but no, that’s not what I didn’t want to be nothing. I, um…” He searched your eyes again for any indication that you knew what was coming and didn’t want to hear it, but when all he was met with was genuine expectation and a slight nod of encouragement, he continued. “I like you, you know I do, or we wouldn’t be friends. But I like you, and we’ve never been as close as we were just then, so with all the little things that happened I was trying to figure out if I was reading too much into it or if… if you feel the same.”

An astonished smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you processed this revelation. The boy you’d been silently pining for all this time, the boy you knew had trouble articulating his feelings when they were too close to his heart, had just told you in no uncertain terms that he reciprocated the feelings he didn’t even know you had. It was too good to be true.

You lifted your hand from his arm and pinched yourself. Ow.

George let out a baffled chuckle. “Okay, what was that all about?”

Your hand didn’t return to his arm; instead it cupped his cheek, thumb grazing his lower lip and pinky curling under his chin. This time he didn’t try to disguise the way his eyes were drawn to your lips as your smile grew.

“Just making sure.”

You rose onto your tiptoes, closing the gap between you. George’s steadying hands continued to do their job, moving to wrap around you and tug you closer to him. Your rapier clattered to the floor, forgotten, as you brought your other hand up to his arm, thumb rubbing across his bicep and ruffling the sleeve of his oversized T-shirt. The kiss was sweet and gentle, a little clumsy, but tinged with the fervor of finally being able to act on the desires you’d been holding back for so long. Everything you’d hoped it would be. Through the haze of euphoria, your brain urged you to concentrate, to remember every little detail, every emotion and impression: the taste of his lips, the warmth of his hands on your bare back, the tickle of his curls as they brushed your forehead, the rush of air as you pulled apart just enough to catch your breath and he grinned against your mouth. But it was okay, you reminded yourself. You doubted you’d ever forget, but even if you did all it would take is for you to kiss him again. So, just in case, you did.