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ckret2 · 6 months ago

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Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.

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Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.

Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.

He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.

The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.

He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.

He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.

And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.

And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?

Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.

There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.

Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.

No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.

I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.

Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.

Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.

####

"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed.

"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.

He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."

"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.

"Okay but why on your bed?"

Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"

Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.

By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.

After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.

In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—

("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")

—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.

"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"

"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."

"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."

His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.

But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?

"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."

He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")

Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."

"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."

Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.

"You do?"

"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."

"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"

She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"

She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."

"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"

"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"

He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.

Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.

Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"

"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."

"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."

"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."

"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"

"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."

"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."

"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"

Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"

"Thaaat's probably not it."

"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."

There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"

"I can't remember anything else, though."

"Me neither."

They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"

The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.

Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"

"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"

"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."

Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."

Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"

Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.

Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"

"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.

"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."

"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"

"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"

Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."

"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."

"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."

"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"

Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.

"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"

"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"

"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."

"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"

"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.

"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."

Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."

"Close enough."

They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...

And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.

He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.

"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"

"He said something, didn't he?"

Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."

Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."

Mabel nodded.

Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.

As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?

Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.

Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.

####

"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"

The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.

"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.

"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"

"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."

"Aw."

"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."

Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"

"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."

Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."

"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."

"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.

Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"

"Sure, girl, just downstream."

"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."

"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."

"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.

The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.

He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.

He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.

He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table under the bedroom window.

"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"

Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.

"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.

"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"

"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.

He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."

"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."

Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"

Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"

"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.

Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched.

Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."

"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."

"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"

"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.

Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."

"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.

"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."

"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"

"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"

"Never in a million years."

"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."

Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.

After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"

"Sofa bed in the living room."

"Right."

And then there was silence.

Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.

A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.

He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.

That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.

Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.

####

(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #sev'ral timez #(a tag i have never used before and will probably never use again.)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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fernsnailz · 9 months ago

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my comic from the @neverturnbackzine! truly one of my favorite zines i've been a part of :]

some extra insight/fun facts about the process of this piece below the cut 💥💥💥

posting pieces from collaborative zines is always something i struggle with because i look back and think of how i would do things differently now, but i learned a lot working on this comic and even developed some style techniques that i still use!

Fun Fact 1: the panel where shadow Fucking Disintegrates That Guy is technically traditionally drawn! i couldn't get it right in clip studio so i just started frantically scribbling in a notebook and got it eventually lol

highly highly recommend scribbling stuff out in a notebook, scanning it on your phone, and then dropping it into a canvas to edit later if you ever have trouble sketching something.

Fun Fact 2: a lot of the overlay/background effects were made in Kid Pix Deluxe 3D. i created a whole collection of various textures/abstract effects for this comic that i've been using in my art since last year. you can even find them scattered through my team dark zine lol. here's a few of them:

similarly, the background at the bottom of page 2 is actually a warped photo i took of a bunch of headphone wires. this is the original:

Fun Fact 3: i made this comic during a very busy and wild period of time last year so this is what the final panel looked like for a while before i fully finished it LMAO

ok yay thanks for reading bye

#ah yes the comic that i kept showing to my friends for notes and asking “hey guys is this even REMOTELY comprehensible”#very fun to work on! learned a lot :] for context i finished this in july of last year #fern's sketchbook #eyestrain #sth #shadow the hedgehog

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deaconusdelirium · 5 months ago

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ᰔᩚ Older bf!Simon indulging his kid at heart

Simon never really minded the fact that his childhood was stripped from him, it happened, it’s over, what can he do about it? Nothing. Best move on to more important things. He thinks about it, but it no longer effects him. He’s human, so at some point he’s going to watch a kid play to their hearts content like it was a foreign thing to him

Simon who raises a brow at every little thing you do when he finally starts to love you. Watching you stare at the toy section a little too long before picking out a coloring book and even longer at the crayon section. The basket in the crook of his elbow as he crossed his arms.

“What’s the difference, luvie? They all color the same” he huffed quietly, earning a soft glare in return. “Oh hush, they’re not the same. See? These ones are pastels, these ones have glitter, this one has forty colors-” you go on as he rolls his eyes and stares off down the aisle. His attention immediately being brought back as you all of a sudden stop. Then he seen what you were eyeing. The colored pencils. He looked at them and then at you before sighing and walking over. Grabbing them and show them to you. “What’s the deal with this one?” He asks, trying to find the difference yet again between the crayons and then pencils. You step forward and then smile almost sadly. “I’ve never really had colored pencils, always seen them but my parents told me they’d go in the trash one way or another” you replied. He didn’t even think twice before putting them in the basket

Simon who watches you later on that night color in the first page that stands out to you. Seeing you color outside the lines but never really seeming to mind. “Inside the lines, darlin” he mumbled as he laid in bed. One arm propping him up as you laughed softly, “oh hush, leave me alone. I like it” you smiled, “you like it messy?” He asked, “well… when you put it that way it sounds sloppy. But everyone always got mad that I colored outside the lines. Found being too perfect was always boring and never really fun. But I like this” you leaned back, looking at the paper as he nodded. Picking up a pencil and then gave a small scribble to the paper.

Simon who finds comfort in walking beside you down a sidewalk. At first he was confused, one second you both were walking and the next he was yanked back, “what’s wrong?” He looked around for any sign of trouble, then looked down at you, realizing you were counting your steps in the large rectangles in the concrete. “I stepped four steps in the last block, if I take another step, this one will be five” you muttered. Deciding not to question it, he picked you up, setting you in the next block and started walking along side you again. Now every time you walk together, he counts how many steps you take in each one, stopping and waiting for you if you need to jump a little or if you mess up your numbers, “you’re at three, luv”

Simon who pretty much never questions anything you do anymore, you want something? He’ll get it for you. Even if it’s a little bottle of bubbles, he’ll grab an extra bottle just so that if you ever run out, you’ll have another. He won’t admit it, but likes seeing which bubble will last the longest before popping

Simon who goes shopping with you and helps you pick out a stuffed animal, which turns into stuffed animals. “Oh- look at this one Si, this one’s a seal” you picked up a chunky looking stuffed animal. Giving a squish before holding it out to Simon, who gives a squish and then takes it into his large calloused hands. Scrunching it a few times and lays his head on it, then nods. Looking at the others, “look at this one, babe, it’s a shrimp” he chuckles, picking it up and showing you. A smile blossoming on your face as you grab it. You both going home with stuffed animals of your own, who later get turned into cuddle buddies. Sedrick the Shrimp and Samuel the Seal

Simon who will bring you your favorite lunch with a nice drink on the side to your work. Walking in pass the reception desk and into your office, seeing that you’re on a call, he holds your food so he can personally give it to you as he walks around the place. Mindlessly playing with a few little trinkets you got lying around. He puts the bag of food between his chest and arm, the drink in his hand while his other squeezes the chicken stress ball. Giving a small chuckle as its eyes pop out with every squeeze. Then he finds another little toy. A crane of sort that has a string attached to the tip that’s holding a ring at the end. A small hook on the beam as he tries to get the ring onto the hook. Giving a quiet “yes” as he finally gets it. Then hands your food over with a kiss when you’re done

Simon who stays up with you one night, not having to worry about waking up early for work. So he has you get up, telling you he’s hungry and that he wants to get something to eat. Then when you tell him you have to get ready. He protests, pulling your hand and tells you that he’s not going out to impress anyone and that he’d rather you be comfortable than walking around fully dressed with your clothes you wanted to wear tomorrow, just to get fast food. Tells you that he feels better when you feel good. Both of you don’t have to worry about the burdens of adult life that early morning

Simon who goes to the Lego section with you- well, more like he drags you to the Lego aisle. Telling you that he likes this one he seen a few days ago. Pretends to look for it when he made it up as an excuse so you two could actually look for something to build together. “Look at this one love, it’s a picture frame” he holds up a box, showing you. “I like that one, but I also like this camera one” you also hold up the box, he looks between the two. Eyes darting to the side before something catches his eye. “Baby, look. These are bracelets, you put little legos on them”. He immediately grabs the box, dropping them all into the cart, not even minding the price it’ll come out to. “We should look at the friendship bracelets” he buys you the bracelets anyways, going home and building the legos together, putting a Polaroid of you two beneath the camera one. Putting a picture in the picture frame one, and you both wearing the lego bracelets

Simon who picks out baby clothes, not boring bland pink or blue ones. No, those are too cliche, no, he wants something that will make those beautiful eyes he knows your little baby have, pop out. Even if he has to special order a few clothes and blankets, he’ll do it. Little onesies that have pictures of Sedrick and Samuel that were obviously custom made by the best and most liked shop.

Simon who signs your little one up for whatever their heart desires. They want to try soccer? He’s going to buy them a small goal and a ball so they can practice in the backyard of your home. They see an event coming into town and they want to go? He’s more than willing to take them. They want money for a book fair? He knows the teachers are assholes so he waits until they get home so he can go back with them. Helping them pick out whatever their little heart wants. Erasers, book marks, little toys, it’s all theirs. They want extra cuddles for the heck of it? He’s bringing you down with the two of them.

Simon who ends up healing his childhood through you and his kid. Even if he was a little embarrassed about it all in the beginning, he realized that he’d rather make memories than skip them being shy and hurting you and your kids’ feelings.

(He totally has his own stash of toys and his own coloring books he’s accumulated over the years he’s known you. He even has his own blankets with hero’s and stuffed animals of his own) ᰔᩚ

not really proof read, but you get the idea. Just had this in my head for a bit

#olderboyfriend!simon #simon riley hcs #older bf!simon #simon ghost riley hcs #simon riley fic #simon riley headcanons #simon fluff #simon riley x reader #Simon Ghost Riley #call of duty #idk what other tags went here but ok

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sweetkpopmusings · 3 months ago

Text

stray kids soulmate aus | l. minho <3

a/n: minho is for real the love of my life...that gent is so peculiar and he means everything to me <333 i really had to collect myself while writing this because eeeeeeeee my minho feels have been so strong :,,,-) i can't believe the skz soulmate au series is complete now ! i hope they have brought you lots of joy, and thank you for all the kind words you've shared <3333 pics not mine~

content: fluff, soulmate au | wc: 2.3k | warnings: none really! | pairing: soulmate!minho x gn!reader | requests: open

until you meet your soulmate, you receive one object per year that is a clue to who they are.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

minho’s favorite day of the year was always the day he received his clue about you.

from a young age, minho fell in love with the puzzle of it all. slowly but surely, he developed a ritual for unpacking each clue. he paid attention to every detail, taking thorough notes and letting his mind run wild with theories, no matter how ridiculous they seemed. he recorded everything in a notebook, which was one of his most prized possessions. it chronicled every thought he had about his soulmate, and, whenever he felt sentimental, he’d flip through the pages, smiling fondly as he watched his love turn from something childish into something solid, like the love he felt in his heart now.

minho’s love grew steadily over time, spiking when he received certain clues that were so clearly tied to his soulmate’s personality. once, during his middle school years, the clue was a polaroid you had taken. even though he wasn’t sure what it was of–maybe your bedroom wall or somewhere you spent a lot of time at–minho knew that the image was of a place near and dear to your heart. today, minho flipped through the pages, sighing happily when his eyes rested on that very polaroid. he memorized every centimeter of the image long ago.

unboxing today’s clue felt no different from all the unboxings before. after turning the pages forward to a blank one, minho settled into his chair. butterflies filled his stomach when he held a new clue for the first time because he felt as though he were one step closer to holding his soulmate. inhaling briefly to steady his excitement, he deftly unwrapped the package, surprised to hold a planner in his hands.

“huh,” minho chuckled, “let’s see what you’re getting up to.”

he couldn’t believe his clue would be so blatant about his soulmate’s identity. it felt entirely lucky that, just beyond the cover of this planner, would be details to his soulmate’s life, to you, whoever you were. minho smiled as he flipped through the pages, running his fingertips over your handwriting. he didn’t want to intrude too much, but he reveled in learning about the life his soulmate led. this must be it, the final clue.

minho’s suspicion–or, rather, hope–was confirmed when he returned to the front of the planner. on the corner of the front page, he read the most beautiful words he’d ever encountered: if lost, please return to y/n l/n. thank you!

beneath your name was your phone number. not wanting to break his ritual, minho scribbled his observations into his notebook. while he didn’t need to theorize your name, he entertained himself by theorizing about the grocery store you went to and what your favorite takeout restaurant smelled like. admittedly, now that he had your name, he also started a list of potential nicknames for you. once he was satisfied with his entry, he picked up his phone. finally, he had the opportunity to test his theories against someone real.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

your yearly clue arrived earlier than you expected. glancing at the clock, you decided to risk being late to work. how could you resist the opportunity to start your day with something connected to your soulmate?

rather than a full package, your clue was sent to you in a small envelope, no bigger than a postcard. inside was a piece of paper with faded designs on the border. it was hard to make out exactly what the images were, but you could tell it was stationary that was popular when you were a young child. it was also apparent that the handwriting on the page belonged to a kid, maybe an elementary school student. your heart jumped when it clicked that this was your soulmate’s writing, these words a special glimpse in their mind as a child.

hi!

today was very sunny. the weather was cool like spring. is it also spring for you? i guess you wouldn’t live that far away from me. i think it would be fun if you were from a place all the way across the world. maybe we could meet while traveling! or while doing something boring, like going to the store, haha. if we meet at the store, i should buy you something, right? i hope we like the same things. i’ll still buy you want you want, even if it’s gross.

anyways, i am writing this letter because my teacher said we had to practice our new vocabulary words with someone close to us. i used two already. here are the rest: bleak, chilly, windy, humid, falling leaves, summertime, spring day, downpour, foggy. our vocabulary unit was on the weather. i hope you had good weather today too, not weather that was bleak.

love your soulmate, lee minho♡

you were so incredibly heartwarmed that you didn’t know whether to smile or cry. when you saw the time, you realized there wasn’t room for either emotional activity. you floated on the street as you made your way to work, feeling invincible from the sweetness of your soulmate’s words. your soulmate, lee minho.

nothing could ruin your good mood today. not spilling some coffee onto your hand, not misplacing your planner, not even the stranger bumping into you as you exited the elevator. today was perfect because you learned your soulmate’s name, which meant that you could probably figure out who they were. you also learned that, when they were a child, thay considered you as someone close, even though you had never met yet.

daydreams about what your soulmate would write to you in a letter today were interrupted by your phone going off. at first, you were relieved to see the message about your planner being found. your brow furrowed, however, when the message with the time and place to meet was followed up by a message declaring that you would meet your soulmate when you picked up your planner.

wanting to avoid a potential scam or prank, you decided to ask a question that would confirm their identity. you almost forgot that you didn’t have to dig into the recesses of your memory for specific clues. thankfully, the childhood letter was fresh in your mind, so you asked a simple who are you?

anxiety was replaced by excitement when they replied i’m your soulmate, lee minho.

just like you had this morning, you checked the clock to see how much time you had until you needed to leave for your next destination. leaving early felt silly, but, seeing as your soulmate would be there and expecting you, you didn’t feel like waiting any longer.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

minho sat at a table outside the convenience store with a few beverage options in front of him. he wanted to offer you something when you arrived, so he picked the items he thought suited your taste, based on his instinct and clue investigations. a smile graced his lips when the reality of your nearing presence hit him. while he waited, minho wondered what clue you received that revealed his name. as far as he could tell, he wasn’t missing any identifiable documents. maybe a nametag or souvenir of his ended up in your hands, or maybe it was just a piece of paper with his name on it. regardless, minho wasn’t one to question fate’s methods if it meant that he’d finally meet his soulmate tonight.

minho had texted you a description of what he wore–black pants paired with a white button-down and a beret–but you knew who he was before you even registered his outfit. there was something about the feeling you got when you looked at the man sitting outside the convenience store, your favorite drinks neatly placed in front of him. before you could get too stunned by his beauty, his eyes met yours. he smiled and waved for you to join him. knees weak, you happily accepted the invitation.

“hi, y/n,” minho grinned, “i believe this belongs to you.”

you giggled at the way he smirked when he handed the planner over to you and blushed at the way he said your name. his confident and relaxed energy dissipated your nerves. as cliché as it sounded, being near minho made you feel at home.

“thank you, minho. i would be lost without this thing,” you sighed and placed it in your bag, “it’s also nice to meet you.”

“likewise,” he gestured to the drinks between you two, “i wasn’t sure which one you’d like best, so i bought a few options. it felt rude to meet at a store and not buy you something.”

you bit the inside of your cheek, thinking back to the childhood letter making the same claim, and then grabbed one of the items, “this one is actually my favorite! how did you know?”

minho was clearly proud, and his eyes gleamed with playfulness, “i used my amazing detective work.”

you laughed, “ah, so i see the clues came in handy for my drink preferences.”

“mhm,” he nodded, “that and other things.”

you raised your eyebrows, “should i be scared of what you know?”

he shrugged, “probably.”

a hand went over your mouth as you laughed, nearly spitting out your drink. minho giggled, reaching into his bag while you regained your composure.

“i have this for you,” he slid a notebook across the table to you.

“for me?”

he nodded. you carefully picked it up, surprised by its weight. when you opened the notebook and saw that it was full of different items, you understood why it was heavier than it appeared. on the first page, you recognized the same childish handwriting from today’s clue. you smiled and looked up at minho.

“what’s in here?”

“every clue i’ve gotten about you.”

his tone was nonchalant, but you were so touched by the gesture you thought you could melt right then and there. he had kept every single clue and wrote entries for each one. now, he was giving that collection to you. you knew from that letter that he was sweet. this, however, was more sentimentality than you could have ever imagined.

“wow, minho, this is…” you held his gaze, so he knew your sincerity, “thank you. i love it.”

he smiled, turning his head to the side in shyness, which made the red tips of his ears apparent, “i’m happy you like it.”

you two smiled at each other for a moment, reveling in your shared space.

“ah! that reminds me. what was your clue today? mine obviously brought us together, but i can’t imagine i’d be the only one to have such a straightforward clue today. was it how you knew my name?”

you grinned at both his playful bragging and the thought of your clue, “it was a letter you wrote me when you were a kid. you told me some of your new vocabulary words about the weather. you also signed it with ‘love your soulmate, lee minho.’ your handwriting was adorable!”

if you thought his ears were red before, now there was no doubt in your mind that he was blushing. minho even stuttered a little out of shyness when he replied.

“i see…was the letter any good?”

“yes, i think you used your vocabulary words well,” you teased, “it was very sweet. i was surprised that you said i was someone close to you, though, given that you were so young and didn’t even know me. why did you choose to write it to me instead of someone like a parent or friend?”

minho hummed, genuinely thinking back to his childhood logic, “honestly? it was never a mystery to me whether i’d love you or not.”

now you were the one blushing, smiling, and struggling to find the right words. it didn’t help that minho looked downright smug at your reaction to his comment. clearly, you were in for quite the ride with your soulmate. you figured you needed to get used to your heart fluttering if you were going to spend the rest of your life with him.

minho sighed, standing up from his seat, “well, y/n, i unfortunately have to go. get home safely, and study well! we should make plans to meet again this week, if you’re free.”

“wait, i have to study before i see you again?” you tilted your head in confusion, causing a smile to grace minho’s face.

“yes, you need to study the book i gave you. there will be a pop quiz on the information next time we meet.”

you eyes darted to the notebook in your hand and then back to your ridiculous soulmate. the proud, mischievous look on his face convinced you that he wasn’t lying about the quiz.

“what do i get if i ace it?”

“hmm,” minho tapped his finger on the side of his head, “my eternal love and affection.”

you smiled, quickly changing your expression to a playful one, “i thought i already had that? at least, that’s what your letter implies.”

minho chuckled, ears turning red again, “huh, i guess you’re right. i’ll buy you dinner then. but only if you ace it.”

you laughed at the seriousness in his voice, “it’s a date!”

minho grinned, “it’s a date.”

he paused to savor the way those words sounded, to relish in the moment of promising to see each other soon. yet again, you felt yourself blushing, flustered by the sweet intensity of his love.

“see you soon, and let me know when you’re home safe, my dear, y/n.”

minho cooed your name, and you giggled. he smiled that proud smile again, fondness reflecting in his eyes. you promised to text him the second you were home and asked that he did the same, so you knew when you could call him. after several more tries, you two finally said a goodbye that sounded a lot more like i can’t wait to see you again soon because i love you!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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l0standn0tf0und · 11 months ago

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damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes

george weasley x fem!reader (hints on short!bookworm!fem!reader)

words| +- 4400

in short| classic story. George falls in love with his best friend. nothing more and nothing less

warnings| my english, angst, fluffy ending, mention of sex and long ranting about George's feelings

author’s note| it's supposed to be a short one. About 1000 words or so, but I got excited. and well, I tried to make it George's pov. because, you know, ✨️his pov✨️. also, it's my first scribbling in two years. enjoy))

He has been with other girls. He'd even said he has been with a lot of other girls.

There were a couple of girls he dated for a while. There were those he just fucked with. A quickie after a Quidditch match won't hurt anyone. It doesn't matter whether he won this match or not. He's well aware of the fact, that girls like him. But none of these so-called relationships were serious. Perhaps this was because he didn't consider any of them as something serious.

He tried this relationship thing because he was curious, what it's like to date a girl. But during his dates, bringing a cup, all painted with tiny violets, to his lips and listening to the chatter of his now ex-girlfriend, he thought that she'd never say such a thing and she'd never order such a lusciously sweet cupcake. And she wouldn't have dragged him to Madam Puddifoot's in the first place.

After smashing Hufflepuff to smithereens on the Quidditch field, he pressed some Ravenclaw's back to one of the walls in the locker room, pounding deep into her, hearing this girl's moans become louder with each thrust. He caught himself thinking about what her moans would sound like. Would she be filthy and loud underneath him or her moans would be more shaky and soft?

He wouldn't say any of these girls were bad, unattractive, or something like that. Just the opposite, all of them were great. But they simply weren't…her. She got deep under his skin, intertwined with his veins, and blossomed in his lungs. She was his Flower. That's how he called her.

George remembers clearly well how it started. No, not his feelings, they started so naturally, that he didn't even notice how he fell for her. George remembers clearly well how he started calling her flower. This happened back in the second year, during History of Magic. He was getting more and more bored by the second in that stuffy classroom. And there was nothing unusual about it. He got bored very easily. So he quietly began scribbling in the corner of her parchment. He remembers the angry look little Y/N gave him as she carefully pushed her piece of paper away from the redhead. She was also bored but did her best to focus on Professor Binns' words. But George continued, all smiling and trying to stifle his giggles caused by her irritation. At some point, his incomprehensible doodles began to look like something that resembled Professor Binns, but his glasses and mustache were abnormally large compared to everything else. She smiled, took George's hand, and carefully drew a tiny flower on his wrist, before returning her attention to Professor. It took him a while to find out what exactly she drew with so neat lines. It looked like an iris or daffodil, he couldn't tell exactly and she didn't know either. But after that she became flower. His flower.

And now George is sitting in the library. He came here to at least start an essay on Potions. Snape become ruthless lately, so it was easier to work in a group on this 5-page assignment about Golpalott's Third Law. That's how he, Y/N, Fred, and Lee ended up in the library. George knew that this was one of her favorite places at Hogwarts. Two and a half hours earlier, when they had passed Madam Pince's stern gaze, he almost unconsciously walked to her favorite table, between the Poetry and Reference sections.

George's re-reading the same sentence in the book for the seventh time. There's something about the idea that a whole product is greater than the sum of its parts, but he can't really understand its meaning because he's thinking about her. It would be more accurate to say that he's thinking about what Lee and Fred had said about her. The evening before, his twin, the only person in this world who was closer to George than Y/N, again claimed that his love was mutual. Fred constantly tried to push him to confess his feelings. His argumentation was always the same. Fred said that he’s older, which means wiser, and he sees everything, how she steals glances at his little shy brother in classes and how she blushes just as much when George is near. But that evening, Lee has added some new information, which George still tries to process and connects with everything else these two have been telling him through the years.

George returns to yesterday in his thoughts. He was lying on his bed again, hopelessly pressing his face into the soft fabric of the pillow, while these two opened the Pandora's box again. Sometimes it seemed to George that they were enjoying this ranting about his 'unrequited' love situation over and over again.

"Ok, look, if she felt nothing but platonic stuff, she'd not be this frustrated when she found out about you and Jane" Lee spoke in a devious voice, getting more comfortable on his bed.

"Wasn't it Jade?" Fred's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Doesn't matter, I mean this Hufflepuff blondie with the ribbon"

"She's Janis" George sighed. He remembered this relationship, which lasted just over a month or so. Janis was nice, but she talked a bit too much. And this black ribbon, which she constantly wore as a headband, pissed him off. He admitted that the ribbon matched well with her uniform and emphasized the brightness of her hair. But something was wrong with it.

"I thought she was Jade"

"Anyway, why are you telling me about this now?" curiosity and a slight note of annoyance were noticeable in George's voice "It was quite a long ago."

"Look, mate. I'm your friend, right?" Lee sat down, crossed his legs, and the blanket crumpled under his weight. One more movement and the red piece of cloth would end up on the floor. "But I'm her friend as well. She knows that I know. And knows that I overheard that conversation of hers. And I promised, I won't blab it to you…But as it turns out, I'm not the best secret keeper and I'm more of a friend to you than to Y/N"

To tell the truth, Lee was a great secret keeper. Just like he was a great friend. This made George seriously wonder why Lee broke the promise. And so unceremoniously 'blabbed' everything to him. What if he's really as blind as he was told and doesn't see obvious things. He doesn't deny the possibility that she liked him too. More precisely, he doesn't want to deny it. He hopes that Y/N also feels something that crosses the boundaries of friendship. Even if her feelings aren't as strong and all-consuming as his. As if time collapses into one tiny speck and explodes at light speed every time George sees her. He hopes for at least something, for at least a tiny feeling, a tiny sparkle in her heart that flares up at the sight of the tall redhead.

Many times he imagined and replayed in his head the moment he would confess his feelings. Tell her how all the sounds around become quiet when he hears her laugh, how each and every touch imprints and burns on his skin. He dreamed, how he would tell how much he loved her, that he could finally be honest and reveal everything that was in his head and heart.

But the younger twin thinks the stakes are too high. And maybe he's right because she thinks the same thing to herself. Even though George wants more, he doesn't want to risk everything he has right now. His eyes begin to water and a lump rises in his throat every time he assumes he could lose Y/N. His flower. He knows her too well to predict what would happen next if his feelings weren't mutual. Their communication will become awkward, they both will be cautious and afraid of saying or doing something wrong. And then, after some time of this weird communication, their connection will fade away. And even if his love is mutual, what if he and Y/N don’t work out as a couple? What then?

He can't let their previous and future years of friendship go down the drain. Y/N was the first person he and Fred met on the Hogwarts Express. And from the very first year and the very first greeting, the three of them became inseparable. Always together.

She wanted to be a prefect, so she avoided detentions and tried not to get involved in their pranks directly. But Y/N was always there, helped to plan each of their mischiefs, assisted with new inventions, and saved him and his brother from professors. George can't remember how many times she rescued them from Filch while she was patrolling the corridors. He was so proud of her last year when she finally received this little silver pin that gave her extra authority and responsibilities.

George can't imagine Christmas without Y/N now. She visits the Burrow every year and his mom adores her. Perhaps because Y/N helps with cooking more than anyone else in this house. But George can imagine in detail how hard his mother would scold him if he suddenly announce that Y/N won't come for winter break this year because he's an idiot and they stopped talking to each other.

It's not Christmas without having a snowball fight with her and Fred in the backyard. At some point, she always tries to throw Fred into the snow. But due to the obvious height difference and Fred's strength privilege, she never succeeds in this. So she's becoming the one who's giggling on the ground, covered with snow. George always laughs at this little performance while his very kind twin scatters her down with even more snow.

George's envious of his brother in some way. Fred has never seen Y/N as more than a friend or a second sister. He's envious that his twin's heart doesn't ache as much as his does. And his older brother doesn't have to make such a difficult decision. No, George doesn't wish his brother pain. No way. He just doesn't want to suffer himself. George understands, that he's not just at risk of losing her, but also at risk of depriving Fred of his best friend too. If he and Y/N don't work out, what will happen to her friendship with Fred? Yes, perhaps they will be able to maintain some thread of communication. But they certainly won’t be best friends like they are now. George wouldn't handle it. He believes that it's better to be content with the small moments he has than to lose everything.

"Where are you going?" Fred's question snaps the younger twin out of his thoughts. He's still in the library and didn’t even notice how the chair next to him became empty, as Y/N headed towards one of the sections.

“I need this book, about…” her words meet Fred's raised eyebrows "I just need another book"

A quiet “uh-huh,” sounds either from Fred or Lee as her back is already hidden between the shelves full of colorful covers.

George looks for a while longer after Y/N. If someone raised their head from studies or books and glanced at the redhead, they would see the gears turning in his head.

“I…” George moves away from the table. Legs of the chair slide across the floor with a quiet rustle. He tries to come up with some kind of a reason, but Lee is faster.

“We got it, loverboy in shining armor, go already and help your princess” In response George groanes, and a quiet "fuck off" slips from his lips as he heads after his 'princess'. He doesn't know why he decided to follow Y/N. He just wants to. Perhaps he simply feels calmer when she's around, she gives him a feeling of warmth and home just by being near.

And there she is, just three bookshelves away. George can understand why she likes spending time in the library, although he doesn't share this sympathy. It's quiet and peaceful here. High ceilings, impressive columns, and alive stained glass windows are throughout Hogwarts, but they look especially charming in this place. Perhaps it's the specific lighting or the huge number of cabinets filled with old parchment and colored bindings. And, to be honest, he likes the smell of books. There is something about that scent that the redhead can't explain.

Y/N walks along the shelf at the end of the bookrack. Her gaze runs along the top row of colored spines, searching for what she needs. Her hair is up in a messy, almost domestic, bun and secured with a wand. But some strands fell down, framing her face and descending down her neck. The tie hangs loosely around her neck. She undid it after half an hour in the library.

George just stands there and admires her for a while, unable to tear his gaze away. It seems to him as if a soft golden glow surrounds each curve of her glorious body. And this light calls him to come closer. None of the other girls looked like her in his eyes. He swallows, breaks out of this perfect trance, and quietly heads to her.

The girl stands on the very tips of her black shiny shoes. Her fingers almost touch that very book on the top shelf. "Why the hell do they always shove the most useful stuff so far away?" Y/N thinks to herself before long fingers touch the cover of the "Ingredient Encyclopedia". She sees as right above her head a familiar freckled hand takes the faded green binding from its place.

"You're welcome, flower" Y/N turns around at the sound of the voice and finds herself trapped between the worn books and George.

The corners of his lips lift slightly and the younger twin can feel the warmth approaching his cheeks. He can't control it and, to be honest, he doesn't care when she's only millimeters away.

Her "Thank you" is so quiet that George isn't sure she actually said it. Their eyes meet, and it seems to redhead that everything that happened next was in slow motion.

She just wanted to take the book. Such an innocent action. She inhales sharply as her fingertips accidentally brush his hand. He feels high-voltage sparks come from this touch and spread further throughout his whole body and explode where his heart is.

They both froze, not breathing and not breaking an eye contact. George could swear he was ready to give everything he had to live in this moment forever. Just standing next to her in an empty section of the Hogwarts library. Looking into her eyes, losing himself in their depths. And feel the warmth radiating from her hand on his.

Earlier, he thought he'd be nervous at a moment like this but he isn't. He just stares at her eyes, then at her parted lips. "George, don’t do it" he repeats to himself. His fingers shudder imperceptibly with the thought of taking her wand from messy hair, so her locks would fall freely on her fragile shoulders. "Control yourself". He's trying, so damn hard trying not to bury his hands into these shiny strands and pull her into a kiss. It takes all his strength not to. And George doesn't know what happened. Was it Y/N's rosy blush and his brother's words about mutuality flashing through his head. Was it her, standing so close that he could smell his amortentia coming from the girl.

But he gives up. George bends down, without even thinking about it, and presses his lips to hers

George pulls away even faster than he has leaned toward her. There is exposed fear in his widely opened eyes. Eyebrows are raised as the realization crushes his thoughts. His mouth opens and closes without making any sound. It seems that he's more shocked by his own action than Y/N herself.

He fucked up. He knows it.

Y\N stands there still. And this is the first time in the redhead's life that he can't read the emotions of his best friend. "Ingredient Encyclopedia" is still in her palm, but George abruptly pulls his hand away, losing all the warmth she provided to him.

"I'm…I'm sorry" is the only thing he mumbles before storming away from the book section, from the library, from her.

George almost knocks down a first-year with a blue tie when he rushes out around the corner. He fucked up. Y/N didn’t respond to his kiss, she didn’t react at all. She just froze in place. George doesn't understand how he could let himself do this. He shouldn't have. He heads towards the huge wooden door with such speed that some students' parchments fly off their desks. He doesn't notice this, nor the questions from Fred and Lee, that meet his broad back, nor the comments of the furious Madam Pince.

She appears around the corner shortly after George, calling his name. She throws the book on the table and quickly walks past her friends. The faded green binding slides across the wooden surface and lands near Lee's inkpot. Another millimeter and the small glass jar would have been knocked down and poured a black liquid onto the pieces of parchment, only half written with essay.

"For Merlin's sake, what is going on?"

“I'll bet you a galleon that George confessed to her and ran away” Fred speaks with a sly grin, shifting his gaze from the hurrying Y/N to his dormmate.

"Too much drama for these two, don't you think?"

"So…?"

"You're on" Lee agrees, moving the book away from his writings. He only managed to write the introduction and the beginning of the first few theses. It was far from 5 pages but it was at least something and definitely more than George wrote.

George walks through the library entrance. He feels like everything is crumbling inside him as he walks. The sound of his heart pounding in the ears muffles the voice calling his name somewhere behind the back.

"George!…"

He is supposed to be happy. He finally did what he had dreamed of for many years. He finally kissed the girl he was so hopelessly in love with. But instead, he feels as if a dozen Dementors attacked him. All of the hope and happiness have been sucked out of the world.

"George!…"

He'd better get away from here as fast as possible. He'd explain himself later. He'd better get to his safe space. But where should he go if he felt safe only next to her?

"George!….for Merlin's sake!….. I can't keep up with you!"

He recalls everything in his head, from what happened a minute ago to the first time he saw Y\N. He understands that all those happy moments, the tenderness, the memories they both made and the plans for the future, are all gone. He's so disappointed and so angry with himself.

"George!…"

"What?!" He stops and turns around, seeing the girl almost running along the empty corridor of Hogwarts, approaching him.

George heard her calling him. But he's not ready to face the consequences. Not now. He needs time to pull himself back together and come up with something. But he gives up. Again.

"What do you wanna hear, Y|N?!" His hands shoot up in a questioning gesture. "That I'm head over heels in love with you? With your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes! With your damn angelic laughter, which drowns out all other sounds for me! And I even with the way your brows frown when you're concentrated!"

"Georgie…" He doesn't seem to notice her soft voice but continues. She wants to say something, but his confession is unstoppable. And she understands this, so she decides to just let him rant.

"Or do you wanna hear that you became a fixed point in my mind where my thoughts always come back to? That I randomly grin to myself like an idiot when I think about anything related to you. I don't know when exactly I fell for you. But it feels like I've always loved you. You're doing something to me, no one else ever could. You make me feel special and not just another poor Weasley or the second clown of Hogwarts. Every damn time you make me feel important because of who I am and not because I'm the beater or I'm the easiest way to get to Fred." His voice became calmer with each sentence. The irritated raised tone turns into his normal deep timbre, and then it will turn into a soft mumbling. " And you make all of my anxiety and worries turn off just by your presence. I was so fucking angry with myself and you did something I dunno how to explain. So now I can't be this angry. And you are…you are just….you"

She stands next to him. Almost as close as it was back then in the library. Perhaps if George wasn't so nervous, he'd realize that he liked the scent of books because it was her scent. Every time she left the library after spending several hours there, she had this slightest scent on her. It mixed with her perfume and shampoo, so it was impossible to separate and difficult to notice it.

"Are you done?" George doesn't know what to do and just nods his ginger head. Then she rises on her tiptoes and neat fingers finds the collar of his white shirt and pulls it towards her, forcing George to lean forward. Her lips touch his. Again. Only for a few seconds but this makes him blush even more, if it's possible. His freckles aren't this noticeable anymore.

The girl pulls away, the heels of her shoes meet the cold floor and her hands slide onto George's chest. But he continues to stand slightly bent forward, batting his eyelashes. She still has to lift her head slightly to look him in the eyes. In the future, this height difference will piss her off sometimes, but he'll enjoy it endlessly, liking this even more every time.

George stares deeply into her eyes, trying to understand what just happened. But he feels that he can breathe again. And somewhere inside, where his soul is, irises and daffodils and all the other flowers start to blossom slowly. Did she really kiss him? But earlier…

"But you've…." His eyebrows furrow as the puzzles are slowly coming together in his head.

"I was taken by surprise" She explains as she watches his face soften, lips rise into a wide grin that he can't stop. And why the hell should he stop it. "And you didn't give me time to understand what's going on"

George covers her hand with his own. That hand that's laying so peacefully on his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, millimeters from her face. She can feel his breath on her lips, like a ghost kiss, dragging the moment before he crushes his lips down on hers into another real one.

Her lips are soft, almost silken, and pillowy against his own. This kiss is not just a peck, like the previous ones. This time George can understand that her lips are not exactly what he thought. Her lips feel thousands of times better than he could ever imagine. He finally feels relieve and all the world's happiness. All the happiness he supposed to feel. Happiness, that had been accumulating for a long time and didn't leave the palace of his dreams, Finally to escape to freedom. His palms find their place around her waist as he pulls her closer, forcing their bodies to collapse into each other, holding each other as tightly as humanly possible. Her hands shoot up to his hair, slowly letting her fingers slip into ginger strands. He kisses Y/N like he has never kissed anyone else before. With all the tenderness and love he has kept locked in his heart till this moment. George doesn’t see this, but he feels how the gray world around him is filled with colors again. The warmth spreads all over his body and his brain stops working properly.

This girl, this bright and breathtaking girl, is his. Their lips moved softly, delicately, and almost innocently before. But Y/N is driving him insane and intoxicate him with the sweet smell of her body. He can feel her hand slide to his nape and she lightly runs fingers up along his neck. Tiny soft moans escape his lips in the surprise of the goosebumps this action sent down his body. As a response, George brings up his freckled hands to cup her face. His calloused fingers caress her flushed cheeks as he nibbles her lower lip, not so hard to hurt, but enough for Y/N to feel it. Now it's her turn to let out a small, barely audible moan, which makes him break out into a shit-eating grin.

The girl gently pulls away, while George still holds her face in his warm hands.

"I love you too, Georgie. And your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes"

Bonus:

He lets out a giggle caused by quoting. He's unable to open his eyes for a few moments after this kiss, a huge smile on his face

"But…"

"But…?" The question sounds teasing even though his voice is hoarse.

"We have an essay to finish. It's due tomorrow, and you haven't even written a sentence yet." she wrinkles her nose in a taunting way.

"Nooooo" Redhead lets out a groan, throwing his head back. "Don't make me do this, Flower"

"I won't write it for you" She kisses his pouty lips as a response to the puppy gaze he gave her. Y/N frees herself from his cozy grip and heads towards the library. "You'd better write at least something unless you prefer scrubbing cauldron instead of…let's say…sneaking into Hogsmeade."

George catches up with her a couple of seconds later. He slightly leans down just for a moment to catch her hand in his and intertwine their fingers.

"Y/N…." he tries this 'puppy gaze trick' again.

"Fine." She sighs in defeat "I will help you with a plan and theses, but you will write it yourself."

George breaks into a smile once again and brings her hand to his lips, leaving kisses on her knuckles. Well, the thesis for Someone's Third Law is at least something. Plus, he’s sure that he’s sure Y/N will write his essay as soon as she finishes hers. And, to be honest, Fred's too.

After some time, when they are a meter from the huge wooden door, George suddenly wonders.

"Galleons or Sickles?"

"What?"

"Galleons or Sickles?" He repeats, opening the door in front of Y/N

"Wait, you're wondering how much they bet on us, aren't you?"

George overtakes the girl, ending up in front of her, and leans down so that their eyes are at the same level. He shoves his hands into pockets and wrinkles his nose therefore mocking Y/N's previous actions.

"I'll bet a Galleon that Lee owes Fred a Galleon"

masterpost

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley headcanon #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley smut #george weasley x fem #george weasley x slytherin!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #george weasley angst #the weasley twins #weasley twins #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins smut #harry potter fanfiction

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ssahotchnerr · 5 months ago

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You’re freaking talented I love all your work! Congrats on getting the job!!!

how do we feel about lil Ellie sneaking notes and cute things for Aaron when he goes away for cases since she’s gonna miss him sooooo much? Maybe something like, “I miss you daddy, come home safe!”

just imagine Hotch is looking through his go bag and sees a note from Ellie and a drawing and he’s like 🥹 he’d be so touched

And reader realizes that’s why Ellie’s spending so much time with Aaron’s bag

also can I be 🍳 anon??

thank you so much my love!!!!! of course you can! and omg you got me sobbing 😭

little notes and little surprises 🥺😭😭😭💞💓 it starts out with scribbly nonsense when ellie doesn't know how to write. it's like that beginning stage before school for her has started. you and aaron have introduced the concept to her: how to hold a pencil, she knows the alphabet by now, you're slowing teaching her how to write the letters, starting with her name. so for a while, the notes are drawings/coloring pages with her name scrawled across the top 😭 since that's all she knows how to do 😭 (ps ellie IS a leftie like aaron)

when she actually learns to write more thoroughly, is when he gets the "i miss you!!" and "come back safe!!" and "i love you!!" 😭😭😭😭 every so often too - ellie tucks one of her stuffed animals in his bag 😭 to keep him company 🥺 hehe aaron zips open up his bag to find her favorite stuffed bunny (the one grandpa dave gave her when she was born) he's a bit shocked because that's one of her main comfort items. she doesn't go anywhere without it, won't sleep without it, and yet she packed it away for him 🥺 and it 100% stays on his bed, he'll sleep with it 😭 (omg and on the jet ride home - he takes a pic of the bunny sitting on the jet to send to you, so you can show her 😭💓🥰🫶🏻)

but the first time aaron found one of ellie's surprises 😭 he nearly cried (let's be real he cried. a few tears slipped down his cheeks🥲) hehe his heart just felt like it could burst and he got sooo emotional over it 😭 it was during a difficult case too, one where he just wishes at home with the three of you. but now!! he has a piece of home with him 🥹 it reenergizes him and it helps him power through the rest of the case <333

but, at first he thinks this was something you came up with. hehe he comments on it when he gets home, thanking you and saying how it was really sweet🥹, and you're just ? 'what are you talking about? i didn't tell her to do anything.' so the realization hits, that ellie did this. ALL by herself 😭😭😭😭😭😭 aaron's melting all over again, and he's finding her immediately again to give her the biggest tightest hug ever 😭💞💞💕💓

#🍳anon #ellie hotchner <3 #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fluff #let's talk aaron <333333

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jareaul0ver · 7 months ago

Text

Opposites Attract

Summary: You and Nika share a class and sit next to each other. Shes always teasing you, saying you're nerdy, while you always tease her, calling her a stereotypical jock.

wc: 1.6k warnings: none really, mostly fluff, a bit of enemies to lovers if you squint pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

im trying this in a bit of a different style bc i feel like it fits the best! lmk if you guys like it or not

"What a nerd." "Nerd? At least I'm not a meathead."

When you first got paired with Nika for your class seating assignments, you were less than thrilled. Being with the class jock was not something you were looking forward to. You assumed she was all looks and brawn, no brain.

She felt the exact same way. She couldn't believe that she was stuck with some loser nerd. At least she'd have you to rely on for projects when basketball kept her too busy, and left her too exhausted to do anything but collapse in her bed.

You were working on your first project together, and you decided to meet up in the library. When Nika finally arrived, you had your laptop out and your nose in a book. She, on the other hand, was sweaty and exhausted from practice.

"Sorry I'm late. Coach had us run at the end of practice." She plopped her bag into the chair next to her and sat down.

"Mm, alright." You mumbled, keeping focus on the project.

She stared at you for a moment before sighing. "Are you gonna end up doing this whole thing all yourself?"

You tore your eyes away from your screen and stopped typing to look at her. "Not if you show up on time tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes. "Can't help it if practice runs late."

You scoffed. "You could've texted me, we could've rescheduled."

"Whatever." She muttered as she pulled her laptop out of her bag and opened it up to the document you were busy typing away at. Her eyes widened when she saw almost a whole page finished already. "You've done this much in the twenty minutes I wasn't here?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Jesus, what a nerd."

You deadpanned. "Nerd? At least I'm not a meathead."

She took a deep breath and shook her head before forcing herself to focus on the project, the two of you being civil for your rest of the time in the library.

"Nerd." "Meathead." "Dork." "Jock."

You smiled at Nika as she sat down next to you. She flashed a bright smile at you. "Hey, nerd."

Your eyes rolled playfully. "Hey, meathead."

Your class started and the professor taught her lesson. Nika thought it would be better to mess with you than pay attention, though. She scribbled something messily on a sticky note and stuck it right onto your notes page.

You sighed and read it. 'wanna hang out later?'

She glanced at you with a hopeful smile as you quickly wrote something back, passing it back over to her. 'can't. studying and homework for other classes :('

Nika drew a frowny face and passed it back to you. You smiled a little at it, and resumed taking notes. But she wasn't finished.

She pulled out another sticky note and wrote on it again, passing it back over to you. 'pleaseeeee? i know you wanna'

A long sigh escaped your lips as you wrote an answer and gave it back to her. 'i have too much to do tonight, sorry. and pay attention before you flunk out'

She smiled and whispered to you. "I'm not gonna flunk out, I've got my favorite dork to help me."

You shook your head. "I'm not a dork, first of all. Second, you're such a stereotypical jock, always asking the smart kid in class for help."

A quite laugh escaped her lips. It sounded like a melody to your ears.

Your professor didn't find it as endearing as you did, however. "Girls, focus." Her eyes landed on the two of you before she turned back around.

The two of you giggled together quietly.

Later than night, you were doing exactly what you told Nika you would be. A mountain of papers and books surrounded you on the floor. You had flashcards laid out everywhere. You were drowning in work, and you were ready for a break, but you only had to study for one more class.

Fortunately a break soon arrived when you heard knocking on your door. You stood up with a groan and walked over, the hair in your ponytail practically falling out, bags under your eyes from the countless hours of work you've done today.

You opened the door and Nika was standing there, a plastic takeout bag in her hand. "Thought you'd need a break tonight, I brought food."

You stared at her for a moment before smiling and pulling her inside. "You are a godsend, Nika Muhl." You grabbed the bag from her hand and set it on your desk.

Nika stood behind you, looking at all your studying materials sprawled on the floor. "Jesus, how long have you been doing this for?"

"Uh, a few hours. Nothing too bad."

"A few hours? Without a break?" She scoffed.

You turned around and looked at her. "How did you know I haven't taken a break?"

She grinned at you as she took in your appearance. "By just looking at you." You were disheveled and simply looked exhausted.

"Wow, rude." You feigned offense and placed your hand on your chest.

She laughed softly and took a step towards you. "But seriously, you need a break. You're gonna wear yourself out." She brushed a lose strand of hair out of your face.

"Guess all that studying together paid off, hm?" "Guess so. Maybe hanging with a nerd isn't that bad."

It was finals week and you had been working your ass off. Late night after late night of studying with Nika had you both prepared for your exam.

Per Nika's rules, you had to take a mandatory fifteen minute break every forty-five minutes. She refused to let you overwork yourself, and for once, you agreed. You could tell she was exhausted too. She was balancing academics and her playoff games, on top of hours long practices.

You had also implemented a reward system. While doing flashcards, for every three questions one of you got right, you got to ask the other person a question. That was when you found out Nika was gay.

"That's three, I get to ask you something now." You stared at her as you sat across from her on the floor of her dorm.

"Go for it." She smiled at you.

You thought for a moment. You had already asked her about Croatia, her teammates and friends, but not anything romantically. "Ooh, I got one. Do you have a boyfriend? Or are your eyes on any guy in particular?"

She stared at you for a moment before laughing. Your brows furrowed. "What? Why are you laughing?"

"It's just funny." She took a deep breath. "How you looked at me and thought I was straight."

Your lips parted. "You're..?" She nodded. "Oh." You squeaked quietly, your face heating up. "I-I didn't mean to assume, I just figured... y'know."

"I don't think I do."

You sighed. "I just assumed you only liked guys, I dunno."

"Well I don't." She smiled. "Only like guys, that is."

"Right." You smiled a little back at her, your gazes lingering on the others for a moment too long to be considered only friendly. You cleared your throat and looked down at the notecard in your hand. "Back to studying."

She didn't look away from you. She couldn't pull her eyes away from you.

It was the day that exam test scores were going to be released. You sat anxiously in the lecture hall, in your regular seat next to Nika. Your leg was bobbing up and down as the professor explained that only two students exceled with her exam, and you prayed that one of them was you.

Nika had her eyes on you, analyzing everything you were doing. She noticed the bobbing of your leg, but also the tight grip you held on your phone, and the way your bottom lip was caught between your teeth.

"Hey." She said quietly as she reached out, placing her hand on your knee to help calm you down. Your gaze darted up to meet hers, and her expression was soft. "I promise that you did amazing."

You swallowed nervously. "But what if I didn't? What if I totally bombed it and-"

She gently squeezed your leg. "You didn't bomb it. I know you didn't. Take a deep breath." You did. You inhaled deeply and closed your eyes as you let it out. "There you go."

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder and you relaxed a bit at her touch. You leaned your head against her, closing your eyes, and hoping for the best.

The professor called everyone down one by one, handed them the paper with their grade, and dismissed them from the class to look at it. Nika had already been called, and when you were, it took you a second to snap back into reality.

You went down and collected your paper, then quickly left the room. You rounded a corner and saw no one around you, unsure of where Nika disappeared to.

You took a deep breath before opening the paper and looking at your grade. You had gotten a 98, the highest grade in the class. You let out the breath you were holding and leaned your head back. "Thank god." You said quietly.

"Everything okay?" Nika's voice came from behind you.

You spun around with a smile on your face. "I got a 98!"

She smiled at you before moving forward and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. "Holy shit! I got a 93!" You hugged her back and smiled brightly against her neck.

You pulled back to look at her, and in a wave of emotions, crashed your lips against hers. She froze for a second before reciprocating the kiss, causing you to stumble backwards a bit.

The both of you giggled and your rested your foreheads against each other's. "Guess all that studying together paid off, hm?" You grinned.

"Guess so." She pecked your lips. "Maybe hanging with a nerd isn't that bad."

i really hope you guys like this one!! i loved writing this sm that i wrote it practically within the same sitting on the same day that I got the request. thank you anon for sending this in!!

#lgbtq #uconn wbb #nika muhl #nika muhl x reader #wlw

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midnighvtm4ss · 4 months ago

Note

A scenario I often imagine is Arthur drawing you while you show him your favorite music. Him simply worshiping your body, making you his muse and capturing it in his journal forever ♡⁠˖

thank you so much for your request !

You’re my first request im super super excited !! I hope you like it and that I met your expectations even though it’s a quick read <3

highhonor!arthur morgan x f!reader

warnings: maybe a bit suggestive but mostly fluff, wrote this on my notes app so grammar errors for sure sorry :(

wc: 1.2k

“Wanna put some music on f’me sweetheart ?”

The deep rumble of Arthur’s voice muffled in the crook of your neck broke the silent shared bubble of intimacy that surrounded both your naked bodies.

His hands holding you close to him, tracing abstract shapes on your back as you both came down from your highs, a very well-deserved peace after the events of the past month.

The mood around your fellow camp members was slowly starting to get better after escaping the cold claws of Colter’s harsh climate, which trapped the gang in an endless white desert of snow for several weeks with little to no food and an abundance of regret regarding the failed robbery and the miraculous escape from Blackwater.

Although the evening air was still a bit chilly in Horseshoe Overlook camp, being only the early start of spring, one could sense hope warming all your hearts, melting away some of the sorrow and disappointment that the failed robbery and the loss of young Jenny and the Callander brothers left you.

Dutch, more than anyone else, clinging to this glimmer of hope, trying to keep everyone’s faith in the gang.

The wind whistling through the flaps of your and Arthur’s shared tent made a shiver run up your naked body as you made your way from your shared cot where you two were laying, to Dutch’s gramophone, which was opposite the bed, kindly lent to Arthur for a few days.

A small thin cloud of dust and dirt rose up from where your hands flipped through Dutch’s records, eyes scanning meticulously trying to find some of your favourite ones.

Behind you, you could hear the shifting sound of the thick cotton sheets as Arthur moved into a sitting position, his eyes automatically glued to your seductive form like a moth to a flame.

“A ha ! Here it is” you softly exclaimed as you finally found the record you were looking for, the one that never failed to put your mind at ease whenever Dutch would play it around camp.

Sliding it out of the wooden box, careful not to scratch it, you put it on.

As the soft melody of ‘The Flower Duet’ filled the rather small space of your tent you started to sway to the rhythm of the song.

“Sous le dôme épais, où le blanc jasmin à la rose s'assemble”

Turning back to look at Arthur, you found him already looking at you, his aqua irises mixing with yours for a second before quickly looking down his lap and scribbling in his worn leather journal, his face relaxed and a small hint of a smile making its way into his chapped lips.

“What you writing in there ?” you asked softly, body still swaying to the sweet rhythm of your favorite song, a shy smile creeping up your face.

“Nothin’, just some quick…” he took a moment to finish his sentence as he looked back at you, eyes flying to catch every single inch and detail of you.

How the light from the small lamp on the night table made your skin glow and your curves even more defined with the contrast from the darkness of the night sky outside, your french braids, all untidy from the intimacy shared before, shifting with every move you made.

In this moment in his eyes, you were the definition of a goddess, his poor mortal heart struggling to keep an even pace near you.

“…thoughts.” he exhaled the last word, licking his chapped lips before flipping through some pages of his journal seemingly filled with various sketches.

“Ah! Glissons en suivant doucement glissons, de son flot charmant”

As a comfortable silence fell between the two of you with only the soft melodic sound floating in the air and the scraping of Arthur’s pencil on paper you continue to sway, your mind floating away carried by the suave voice of the singer, unaware that the man sitting on your bed is engraving this peaceful and intimate moment forever on paper for his eyes and his heart only to see.

“Dans l'onde frémissante, d’une main nonchalante, gagnons le bord”

His eyes were bright and focused on how to draw your mesmerizing face, afraid of not portraying your unworldly beauty right on paper, so focused that he was slightly surprised when your soft arms wrapped around his torso as you climbed back to your cot, planting a small kiss on his bearded cheek making his heart skip a few beats.

As you rested your head on his shoulder you looked down on his lap expecting to find a doodle or a quick thought scribbled away in his perfect cursive handwriting, but instead, your eyes were met with a full sketched page of you dancing near the gramophone.

With cheeks of a deep red and wide eyes, you looked at Arthur, trying to say something but failing as your heart filled with even more adoration for the not so cold hearted outlaw beside you.

“Sous le dôme épais où le blanc jasmin, ah !Descendons, ensemble!”

Your relationship with Arthur was relatively new, barely six months, and in those six months of relationship you would often catch Arthur sitting somewhere quiet and isolated with his journal, sometimes writing stuff down or sometimes moving his pencil in quick strokes which you guessed were doodles of stuff he would see every day, but you would have never guessed how talented he was in his art.

“Well it ain’t much of a picture” he murmured, a faint, almost imperceptible blush covering the apple of his cheeks, feeling self conscious of his skills under your attentive gaze.

“Oh you silly man, it’s beautiful, Arthur” you quickly reprimanded him with an awestruck tone, your index finger gently caressing the drawing careful not to put much pressure and smudge the graphite version of you.

“Can I see more of your drawings ?” you asked him, meeting his unsure gaze which was already on you, with your hopeful lovesick one. After a quick internal struggle, he fully put his journal in your hands, giving you full permission to explore this new side of him.

As you flipped through the pages you started to see fewer drawings of plants, animals and views and more drawings of you, from portraits to full body.

He carefully captured in each drawing every single detail of you, your beauty stuck graphite to paper, making you look like a lady every painter would fight for the opportunity to draw.

With each passing page, you also noticed how some drawings featured you in more intimate moments, some when you were asleep or braiding your hair, but one in particular made you stop your flipping, heart racing as a deep blush rushed to your whole face.

On a rather empty page, on the left bottom corner there was a drawing of you naked, splayed on the bed, your expression one of pleasure with your hands seemingly caressing your body.

You stared at the drawing for a full five seconds before Arthur noticed what you were looking at and snatched closed his journal in embarrassment his eyes avoiding yours.

“Well, that’s for another time sweetheart.”

#.rira’s posting ౨ৎ ⋆#arthur morgan fic #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #red dead fandom #divider from @roseraris on tumblr

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the-artist-grimm · 2 months ago

Text

Closeup plus basic notes of the lamb's room from my Starfall comic! Anthea's got a room in the attic of the temple

Also extra notes! Placing under Read More just to keep things tidy

The One Who Waits Alter

Anthea started worshipping TOWW shortly after entering Ratau's care. The rat hadn't exactly planned on telling his freshly orphaned, somewhat traumatized ward that their new guardian was previously a cult leader, but Anthea discovered some of his old books on the lost 5th Bishop of Death one day and Ratau was left little choice but to explain. The book was an exact copy of an extremely old, likely from right before Narinder was imprisoned, text that depicted the god of death as a kind, patient being, which for the lamb whose family had died in the most violent way possible quickly became a comfort. It contrasted Ratau's own memories of a somewhat more reserved, stern god, but since it made Anthea happier he decided to let it be. Anthea hasn't missed a nightly prayer ever since, and still does it before bed despite now having direct access to the god himself. The layout was one they read from that old book, which stated that a pentagram wreath was to hang between an evenly divided four candles. Unwritten however was the reasoning-the center was Death, and on either side his siblings who ruled over Life. They were meant to be lit in honor of the siblings who took care of the mortals Narinder would eventually receive after death.

Stars and Starmap

Back when he was still alive the lamb's father, Aries, would take Anthea with him on supply runs knowing they didn't get much one on one time otherwise with their younger siblings around. They'd sometimes be out overnight so the two would go stargazing, and its something the lamb still holds dear. Their original copy of the book, 'A Story of Stars' was one of his last gifts to them which even while he was alive Anthea was super careful with it since books are hard to get, but their brothers kinda colored all over it while Anthea was out gathering supplies shortly after his death one time. The lamb played it off and shared with them after as a 'oh they're little and just miss dad its ok' type of thing, but it was kinda reluctantly, with them being secretly upset about it whenever they saw scribbles all over their favorite illustrations while reading to the kids. It burned with their old life, and now Anthea would give anything to have those scribbled pages back.

Sleep Potions and Herbs

The lamb suffers from sleep problems and often brews their own remedies. They know not to take them often since they're kinda really strong-like once they kick in they literally just pass out, but they keep them around for when nightmares get bad. They know a few other remedies from Flinky, since he used to double as both Ratau's right hand and cult medic. Antidotes, pain tonics, basic essentials for when you don't have a doctor.

The Crown

Gonna make a silly doodle comic but after an uh...awkward incident with Narinder calling the lamb while they were dressing one morning the two made a deal in regards to his being able to see through the crown-if the crown is off and facing a wall it means the lamb needs privacy and he's to try again later or until they call back unless told otherwise. Look he may be a bit of a grumpy god but Shamura raised at least one brother to be a gentleman lol

Hope Chest

In sheep culture weaving/knitting with wool was a huge thing, especially for ewes, like most learned from the time they could walk from their mothers. After coming of age most would start keeping a chest they'd gradually fill with handmade linens, blankets, ect. for their future homes after marriage, and it was something Ratau encouraged Anthea to do since he didn't want them to just drop their culture. They still got a loom over at his place since it's hard to move, though they do have knitting needles in the chest.

Books

Books are somewhat hard to come by if you're not in one of the Bishops' cults where they have scribes so Anthea tends to collect any and all they find

Ratau's Family Crest

Given to the lamb on their 18th birthday. Rats have family crests tattooed onto their foreheads at 18, and since he'd essentially adopted Anthea Ratau thought it was fitting to give them something similar but not permanent. It fell off during their execution, but they made sure to go back and grab it after downing the heretics that attacked after resurrection. They still wear it now under their tunic

#cotl #cotl lamb #cotl fanart #sketch #my art #crimson angel au #anthea #crimson angel au lore

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domm1etae · 1 month ago

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My Good Boy

f!reader x yunho

oneshot | mdni

2.8k

Yunho is always eager to please his noona, Y/N

nsfw tags under

f/m, vaginal sex, teasting, dirty talk, subby yunho, dominant reader, pet names, slight begging, little age gap, oral sex, handjob, mommy kink, needy, and moooore...

Yunho stepped out of his architecture class, checking his phone for any messages from his girlfriend, Y/N. Even though they’d been dating for nearly a year, he still felt his heart race every time he thought about her. Y/N wasn’t like anyone he had ever met—she was older, bold, and carried herself with a quiet confidence that Yunho admired. She was in her final year of her literature program, and while they were both busy with their studies, they always made time for each other.

Today, Y/N had texted him that she’d be working on her thesis at her favorite coffee shop, the one tucked away in a quieter part of town. It had become their little spot—a cozy, vintage café with bookshelves lining the walls and the soft sound of jazz playing in the background. He smiled, already excited to see her.

When he arrived, he spotted Y/N in her usual corner, sitting by the window. The light streaming through the large glass panes made her look like she was glowing, and Yunho’s breath caught for a moment. Her signature style was as striking as ever—dyed purple hair falling in soft waves around her face, a loose, oversized sweater hanging off one shoulder, and a few silver rings on her fingers as she scribbled in a notebook.

Yunho quietly approached, setting a coffee down in front of her. "Hey, beautiful," he whispered, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

Y/N looked up, her face breaking into a bright smile when she saw him. “Hey, babe. You just saved my day—I’ve been staring at these pages for hours, and I’m losing my mind.”

Yunho chuckled as he sat down across from her. "I figured you could use a break. How’s the thesis going?"

Y/N groaned dramatically. “It’s coming along, but I’m starting to feel like I’ll never be done. I’m rewriting this one chapter for the third time, and it’s still not right.”

Yunho admired her dedication, even if he worried that she pushed herself too hard sometimes. “You’re going to nail it, noona. You always do,” he reassured her, gently squeezing her hand across the table.

She gave him a small smile, appreciating his words, but Yunho could see the exhaustion in her eyes. “Why don’t we get out of here for a bit?” he suggested. “There’s this new art gallery downtown I’ve been wanting to check out. What do you say? Let’s take a break, just the two of us.”

Y/N tilted her head, thinking it over before she grinned. “Alright, deal. But you have to promise to help me with my project afterward.”

Yunho laughed. “Anything for you.”

After quickly packing up her things, they stepped out into the crisp fall air, hand in hand as they walked down the cobblestone streets of the old part of the city. Yunho loved these moments—walking side by side, talking about anything and everything, with no one around to interrupt. Y/N had such a relaxed vibe when they were together, and she brought out a more carefree side of him.

“So, how’s architecture treating you?” Y/N asked as they strolled.

“It’s… a lot,” Yunho admitted with a chuckle. “I’ve been working on this huge project, and I don’t think I’ve slept properly in a week.”

Y/N smiled sympathetically. “Sounds like we’re both in the same boat, huh?”

They made their way to the gallery, a small, intimate space with local artists' work on display. Inside, Yunho took Y/N’s hand and led her through the various exhibits. She was always so thoughtful when it came to art—commenting on little details that Yunho hadn’t even noticed. Her passion for creativity was one of the things that drew him to her in the first place.

At one point, while they were standing in front of a large abstract piece, Yunho turned to her, watching the way her eyes studied the painting. “You know,” he said softly, “sometimes I think you’re the most beautiful piece of art I’ve ever seen.”

Y/N’s face flushed at his words, and she rolled her eyes playfully. “You’re so cheesy, Yunho.”

“I’m serious,” he murmured, stepping closer to her. “You’re like no one else, Y/N. I’m really lucky.”

Y/N’s teasing expression softened, and she reached up to brush a strand of hair away from his face. “I’m the lucky one,” she whispered before leaning in to kiss him softly.

Yunho felt his heart soar as their lips met, the world around them fading away. There was something magical about moments like these—just the two of them, no deadlines or stress to worry about. When they finally pulled apart, Y/N rested her forehead against his.

“I think I needed that more than I realized,” she said with a small laugh.

Yunho smiled, his hand gently tracing the curve of her jaw. “Then I’m glad I dragged you out of that café.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon at the gallery, completely lost in their own little world. By the time they left, it was already getting dark, and they walked back toward Y/N’s apartment together. The streetlights illuminated their path, casting a warm glow as they walked in comfortable silence.

When they reached her door, Y/N turned to Yunho with a mischievous grin. “You’re staying over, right?”

Yunho’s cheeks turned pink at the suggestion, but he nodded. “If you want me to.”

“Of course I do,” she said, opening the door and pulling him inside.

Once they were in the privacy of her apartment, Y/N dropped her bag on the couch and turned to him with a playful glint in her eyes. “Now, about that project help you promised…”

Yunho chuckled, his hands sliding around her waist. “I didn’t forget.”

She smirked, leaning in to whisper against his ear. “Good. Because I’ve got a few ideas.”

Yunho’s heart raced as she led him toward her bedroom, her boldness always leaving him breathless. Even though he tried to act cool around her, Y/N’s confidence and forwardness never failed to make him feel shy and flustered, which only seemed to amuse her more.

Once they were inside, Y/N gently pushed Yunho onto the bed, straddling his lap as she leaned down to kiss him again. Her hands roamed over his chest, sending sparks of heat through his body.

“Noona…” Yunho whispered breathlessly, his hands gripping her hips.

“Shh,” she murmured against his lips. “Just relax, babe. Let me take care of you.”

Yunho's breath hitched, eyes wide with anticipation as she slid her hands up his chest. A teasing smile played on Y/N’s lips, her gaze darkening with intent as she leaned back slightly, giving him just enough space to breathe before she whispered, “Stand up. Pants off. Let noona show you how much of a good boy you've been.”

Yunho’s heart pounded in his chest, and he didn’t hesitate for a second. He quickly stood, his hands trembling as he fumbled to unbutton his jeans. Once his pants and boxers slid down to the floor, he kicked them away, his hard length standing at full attention. His cheeks flushed, feeling both exposed and utterly captivated by the way Y/N’s eyes roamed his body.

She let out a breathless laugh, the sight of him so eager making her insides tingle with excitement. “Good boy,” she cooed, leaning forward and running her hand along his thigh before lightly tracing her fingers over his cock. Yunho gasped, biting his lip to stop a moan from escaping, but Y/N didn’t let him hold back for long. Her other hand wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly as she pulled him down into a rough, messy kiss.

Yunho whined into the kiss, his lips moving desperately against hers. His hands fisted the sheets beside them, but Y/N didn’t stop, not even for a moment. “N-noona,” he whimpered, his voice shaky. “I-I can’t hold it. It’s too much…”

Y/N pulled back just enough to meet his teary eyes, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “You don’t have to hold back, baby. Just let go for noona.”

His eyes fluttered closed, her soft voice melting him into submission. She pumped him harder, her thumb teasing over the sensitive head as Yunho gasped and whimpered. “You’ve been such a good boy,” she praised, “and good boys get rewarded, don’t they?”

Yunho nodded frantically, his body trembling with need. "Y-Yes, noona… please—please let me cum… I’m so close…”

“Then cum for me, Yunho,” she whispered, her breath warm against his neck as she stroked him faster, her grip firm and unrelenting. “Make a mess for noona.”

It didn’t take long for Yunho to unravel. His body tensed, his breathing quickened, and with a low moan, he spilled over her hand, his hips jerking forward as he came, the intense pleasure leaving him shaking. Y/N watched him intently, her own arousal building as she guided him through his release, her strokes slowing but not stopping until she knew he had nothing left to give.

Once he was spent, Yunho collapsed onto the bed, panting heavily. Y/N smiled down at him, wiping her hand on a nearby towel before leaning over to kiss his forehead. "You did so well, babe," she murmured, her fingers brushing through his hair softly. "So perfect for me."

Yunho blushed at her words, still coming down from the high, his body limp and satisfied. "Th-thank you, noona," he mumbled, voice hoarse from the intensity of it all.

But Y/N wasn’t quite finished yet. Her hand moved down between her own legs, teasing herself as she whispered in his ear, "Now it's my turn, puppy. Show me how well you can use that mouth of yours."

Yunho's eyes widened slightly, but he nodded eagerly, his body still buzzing with the desire to please her. He shifted, positioning himself between her legs, ready to give her the same pleasure she had just given him.

Yunho lowered himself between Y/N's legs, his heart racing as he settled into the new position. The scent of her arousal filled his senses, making his mouth water with anticipation. He glanced up at her, a hint of nervousness in his wide eyes, but her encouraging smile was all the reassurance he needed.

“Good boy,” she murmured softly, her fingers running through his hair in gentle strokes. “Now, show me how much you want to make me feel good.”

Yunho leaned in slowly, pressing soft kisses along the inside of her thigh, making her gasp as he got closer. His tongue darted out to trace a line up her folds, tasting her for the first time. Y/N let out a low moan, her hips arching slightly off the bed as her fingers tightened in his hair. That simple reaction spurred him on, the praise from earlier still echoing in his mind as he worked to please her.

“Just like that, baby,” she breathed, her voice laced with pleasure. “Keep going.”

Her approval sent shivers down his spine, and Yunho became bolder, his tongue exploring her eagerly. He teased her entrance, then flicked his tongue over her sensitive clit, drawing a soft gasp from Y/N’s lips. The sound made him growl softly against her, the vibrations adding to her pleasure as her hands tugged harder on his hair, pulling him closer.

“Y-Yunho,” she moaned, her breath hitching as she felt the heat build inside her. He was so eager, so willing to do anything to make her feel good. His mouth worked over her with increasing confidence, alternating between sucking gently on her clit and plunging his tongue inside her wet heat. The combination of his movements had her toes curling in no time.

Yunho glanced up briefly, eyes dark with lust as he watched her reactions closely. He loved the way her face twisted in pleasure, how her thighs trembled around him as she tried to hold herself together. It fueled him to do more, to be better for her.

“Noona, you taste so good,” he groaned, voice thick with desire as he pulled away just for a second. “I want more.”

Y/N moaned at his words, her fingers digging into his scalp as she pushed his head back down. “Then don’t stop, baby,” she commanded breathlessly, her voice needy. “I’m so close… don’t you want to make me cum?”

That was all Yunho needed to hear. He dove back in, his tongue lapping at her feverishly while his fingers dug into her thighs, holding her steady as he brought her closer to the edge. He focused on her clit, flicking it with precision until Y/N’s breathing became erratic, her moans higher-pitched, her body trembling uncontrollably.

“Fuck—Yunho, I’m gonna—”

Her words dissolved into a loud, broken moan as the pleasure finally crashed over her like a wave. Her hips bucked up against his mouth as her orgasm hit, her body shaking as Yunho continued to work her through it, his mouth never leaving her until he felt her body start to relax beneath him.

When she finally came down, Y/N’s chest was heaving, her entire body limp from the intensity of her release. Yunho pulled back slightly, his lips and chin glistening with her wetness, and he looked up at her with a proud, almost shy smile.

“Did I do good, noona?” he asked softly, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and hesitation.

Y/N chuckled breathlessly, her eyes heavy with satisfaction as she gazed down at him. “You did amazing, baby,” she whispered, reaching down to cup his face in her hand. “Come here.”

Yunho crawled back up the bed, and as soon as he was close enough, Y/N pulled him into a deep, slow kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, and it only made her kiss him harder, her hands roaming over his bare skin as she pulled him on top of her.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she murmured against his lips, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You still owe me one more round.”

Yunho’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He was still sensitive from the earlier release, but the way Y/N looked at him made his cock twitch in anticipation. “N-noona… I don’t know if I can…”

Y/N smirked, her fingers trailing down his chest until they wrapped around his half-hard cock, stroking it gently. “Oh, you will,” she whispered, her voice a seductive promise. “Trust me, baby. I’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Yunho whimpered, already feeling himself harden under her touch. He knew he was in for it, but he couldn’t deny how much he craved it—the way Y/N took control, the way she made him feel both vulnerable and desired all at once. He would do anything for her, and she knew it.

With a teasing grin, Y/N shifted her hips and guided Yunho’s cock to her entrance. She bit her lip, holding his gaze as she whispered, “Now be a good boy and fuck your noona like you mean it.”

Yunho groaned, his resolve crumbling as he pushed into her, feeling her warmth envelope him. It was slow at first, but Y/N wasn’t patient. She wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go faster, harder, until their bodies moved in perfect rhythm. The bed creaked beneath them, their moans filling the room as they lost themselves in the pleasure of each other.

It didn’t take long for Yunho to feel that familiar tightness building in his gut again, but this time he didn’t hold back. He thrust into her with everything he had, his breath ragged, his hands gripping her hips as she moaned his name over and over.

“Yunho,” she gasped, her nails raking down his back as her own pleasure built again. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum again—don’t stop!”

Yunho gritted his teeth, doing everything he could to hold on for her. He wanted to last, to make sure she came first, but he was so close. “N-noona, I—”

“Cum for me, baby,” she moaned, pulling him down for a kiss. “Cum inside me. I want to feel you.”

That was all Yunho needed to hear. With one final thrust, he buried himself deep inside her, spilling his release with a low, guttural moan. Y/N came with him, her body tightening around him as they both reached their peaks together, their moans mixing as they rode out the high.

Finally spent, Yunho collapsed on top of her, their bodies tangled together as they panted, trying to catch their breath. Y/N chuckled softly, running her fingers through his damp hair.

“You’re so perfect,” she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “My perfect boy.”

Yunho smiled tiredly, his heart swelling at her words. He felt safe, content, and utterly loved. "Only for you, noona," he murmured, closing his eyes as sleep slowly overtook him.

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soaqrudyz · 1 year ago

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i am of the firm belief that neither ghost or gaz cared very much for soap when he first joined the 141

gaz had never met him before, all he knew was the guy was just a little bit of a prick. he was incredibly talented, gaz would give him that, and he’d never been outwardly rude to anyone that gaz had heard of, but oftentimes his confidence bled into something just short of arrogance, soap always seemed to be the one ranting and raving about his achievements when everyone else spoke of their mistakes. in layman’s terms: he was full of himself in a way that would surely get him killed.

ghost; however, had met him before. they’d worked together some three times before price recruited soap. ghost knew of his skill, knew that sunny disposition got quieter at night when soap thought he was alone, knew soap would thrive with them; but god, if ghost could shove his thumbs into those all-seeing, all-knowing crystal eyes he’d do so in a heartbeat. he hated the way they seemed to burn straight through the heavy material of his mask, how they could look into his own eyes and hold infinite knowledge of his broken psyche by the time they flick to some other uninteresting member of his former squadron. it was horror, to be understood so wholly.

but then gaz got hurt, four days of medically induced coma hurt, and when he jerked awake at, if the clock on the shitty hospital tv was to be believed, 2 in the morning there was soap. he looked disheveled: hair a tangled mess, dark circles only worsened by the shadows of the mostly unlit room, and covered in scattered butterfly sutures. his head was leaned on his bicep, slumped over the lowered tray connected to gaz’s bed.

under his head were the blood and tear stained pages of his open journal, a gorgeous portrait of gaz sketched onto the yellowed sheets with sleep deprived rantings in the margins on how soap could have saved him if he’d just been quicker. gaz slips it out from under him, only feeling a tiny bit like an ass for flipping through the leather bound soul of his comrade, but soap had stolen his favorite shirt so it stood to reason he should take something back. the entire 141 is scribbled on in the pages, buried between bomb schematics and scenic landscapes and soap’s scrawled insecurities. something shifts as he soaks in the words, months of feeling like an outsider and desperate tries to be as good as his teammates.

it’s different, gaz thinks as he flips back to his own face, being in the mind of john mactavish.

but then ghost is walking past price’s office and soap bursts out, pushing past him with flushed cheeks and hurried apologies, practically sprinting in the direction of his shared room. ghost, loathe to admit it, was worried, afraid that the first real human connection aside from garrick he’d had in years was going to ripped from him before he’d even started putting time into it. he didn’t want to lose something good, not again, so he follows him, rushes to catch him before he slams the door in ghost’s face.

soap’s shoving clothes into his duffle when ghost slips inside his room, noticeably holding back tears as he rambles to himself. for a minute ghost is stuck, unused to such blatantly shown emotion, but then he takes a step, sets a gentle hand on soap’s shoulder and asks what’s going on, heart thudding against his ribcage.

“my ma..” soap croakes, and heavy sobs break up whatever else he was going to say. he doesn’t have to, ghost knows, probably better than anyone else.he does the first thing that comes to mind: he drags soap into his chest, wraps his whole body around him like he can protect soap from the hurt. the sergeant doesn’t deserve to feel that hollowness in his chest. soap crashes into him like a wave to the shore, balling his hands into ghost’s hoodie and hiding his face in ghost’s collarbones. ghost had never been one for physical closeness, but there was something different about being in johnny’s arms.

there was an obvious difference in their demeanor toward him in the weeks to come, but neither really cared about how it happened, just that it did, and now they can seek each other’s warm, pink tinted gaze when soap makes a fool of himself.

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florencemtrash · 11 months ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Four

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Fluff and violence

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel didn’t have any reason to show up on your doorstep the next day, but he still flew through the pouring rain and waited patiently for you to answer.

“Hi.” You said, breathlessly.

“Hi.” He answered, dripping water onto the doormat.

Azriel filled up too much space in your apartment, but maybe that was just the constriction of your thumping heart. Az smelled like fresh rain and cedar. Your mother had once taken you to the mountains on the western coast. Citrus fruits sticky and tart in your palms as you sat by the edge of the cliffs and tasted the salt water in the air. It made sense that Azriel should smell like one of your best memories.

“I wanted to give you these.” Azriel said once he’d stepped inside, a quick spell of yours drying the rain off his clothes. Cradled beneath his arms were a bouquet of yellow flowers and a box of pastries from your favorite bakery down the street. The box was soft and supple, but he’d shielded them from the worst of the rain.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?”

He cocked his head to the side, “Does there need to be an occasion? I thought you might like them.”

Liar. He knew you liked them. He was the Shadowsinger after all and the first thing he’d done this morning was track down Cherp.

“Well… no,” You said, gingerly accepting both packages from him. Shadows darted out from his gloved hands, slinking up your arms like living jewelry, cool and comforting. “No, I suppose there doesn’t need to be an occasion.”

“Think of it as a thank you gift. For everything you've done for my family.”

You blushed, “That was really nothing.”

“Rhys and Feyre would disagree. I would disagree. And if Rhys were here he’d probably offer you a dress made of diamonds as a gift instead.”

You blinked, “That seems excessive.”

“That’s Rhys.”

“Then I will consider myself lucky that you’re here instead.”

Azriel seemed pleased with that answer, dipping his head in a subtle bow.

He started off at the kitchen counter, pouring himself a cup of tea as you snipped the flowers and arranged them in a vase. But soon he was drifting around the room, setting your heart alight whenever his fingers would graze the mantle, linger on the pages of an open book, or brush your handwritten notes. It all felt too intimate. The way he could make your breath catch in your throat with every rustle of his wings, the soft sigh of leather as he bent over to look at your scribbled handwriting and smiled. He may as well have grabbed you by the waist and kissed you breathless. Not that you were thinking about kissing him...

You hovered by the kitchen, then moved as close to him as you dared, close enough that Azriel could smell the orange icing that clung to your lips and fingertips. He wanted to taste you.

He shook his head, moving aside and pointing to the newest of your notes. He read, “Immunity - the innate biological process of recognizing and protecting against foreign entities - is a phenomenon that can be extended and applied to magic. From mating bonds to daemati powers to shielding, everything related to magic can be made analogous to the function of a biological immune system.”

He gave you a look - a silent act of permission to continue reading to himself. And before you could think it through, you were nodding.

Azriel took up a spot on your couch, wings cramped against the velvet backing and long legs bumping into the coffee table. You wordlessly moved the furniture and started to pace the floor, busying yourself with the theatrics of organizing notes when you were really keeping an eye on him.

He had a careful look of concentration on his face, lips silently forming the words as his eyes raked over the pages.

You’d presented it to Cherps last summer, and as kind and forgiving as he could be when it came to intellectual exploration, he’d told you flat out that the manuscript was a waste of time.

It was a review paper in its earliest stages, stringing together the connections between different forms of magic and basic biological processes - namely the immune system. The greatest force working against you was the simple fact that fae didn’t concern themselves with such things. Sickness was an inconvenience at worst, nonexistent at best, and any possible fears were quickly wiped out in the face of immortality.

But humans were a different story. Their time on this earth was short and precious. Their weaknesses made them curious, fueled by a desperation for more time - more health - that fae held in spades.

It fascinated you to no end. And after the war against Hybern you’d gotten your hands on some manuscripts from the Human Lands and the Continent.

The concept of white blood cells searching through blood for foreign pathogens didn’t seem so far off from spells designed to unearth enemies hidden on a battlefield. The power wielded by daemati analogous to some virus able to hijack existing cellular machinery for its own purpose. You’d even heard of a blacksmith in the Dawn Court capable of imbuing her magical signature into weapons so that only she would be able to wield them. What better example of immune system magic was there?

Your heart hammered in your chest as Azriel continued to flip through the pages. Long, nimble fingers fluttering along the edges of the pieced together manuscript. His shadows curled around the paper like curious children.

Perhaps it was a mistake showing it to him. It was a rather weak and pathetic argument anyhow. You’d be ridiculed for presenting your ideas at any respectable meeting of the-

“Brilliant.” Azriel breathed.

You snapped your head up in shock.

He looked at you, something like awe in his eyes. “You’re brilliant.” Gloved fingers flipped through the pages once more, marveling.

“It’s not finished yet.” You admitted, wringing your hands together, “It’s barely even begun, and I’d have to fight tooth and nail to get it published. If I ever managed to get it published.” You muttered the last part beneath your breath.

“Why wouldn’t they want to read it? You present a convincing case.”

You tipped your hair to the side, as if the answer was obvious, “Fae don’t like bringing humans into the conversation. They think the work they accomplish is beneath any respectable Librarian. Unworthy of study.”

Az chuckled, “My High Lady would probably say otherwise.”

The High Lady was a curious case - a human soul housed in one of the strongest bodies Prythian had ever known.

“I’m sure.” You said, excited that you had found someone who approved of your ideas for once, “It sounds contradictory, but I believe we could learn more about magic by studying humans.” You were standing now, pacing in front of Az.

He’d managed to crack some forgotten dam inside of you and words began pouring out.

“I have another hypothesis that spell-cleaving comes from the very specific ability to identify and imitate the magical signatures of others. I mean, just imagine! If you could change your magical signature to match that of another fae, any spell crafted, any barrier built-” You made a motion with your hands, “Pff! Useless. You can’t keep yourself out in a spell. Or you can try to at least, but any respectable fae would leave a backdoor for themselves in case something went wrong-”

You rambled on - the biology of immunization and its function in the last war, the Dawn Court artificer, Helion and Feyre’s powers - before finishing with, “I suspect my own powers have something to do with it.”

“What are your powers?” Azriel asked curiously. He leaned forward ever so slightly. “Aside from being brilliant, of course.”

You blinked in surprise. You hadn’t meant to say that. You’d meant to keep it in your mind, quiet and hidden. You swallowed thickly, picking at bitten fingernails.

Azriel swore internally upon seeing the way you flinched, “You don’t… you don’t need to tell me. I’m sorry I-.”

“No! No. I-''

He stared at you openly. Or at least as openly as a person like him could. There was a softness to his eyes you suspected didn't come naturally to him, like he was trying very very hard to convince you to trust him... And it was working.

His hazel eyes were a swirl of gold touched by the first kisses of Autumn.

“Can you… can you promise not to tell anyone? Truly promise.”

He stilled - the very picture of seriousness. Even his shadows seemed to stiffen in the air and become less translucent, “I swear on my life, Y/n. I won’t tell a soul.”

And you knew he wouldn’t. You could feel his honesty in the air, as if something was tugging at your chest and gingerly pulling you open.

You swayed gently, fingers crunching your linen skirts.

“I’m a Clairvoyant.” You admitted, as if it was a shameful thing, “I can touch things - people, objects - and gain knowledge from them. Usually it’s memories or emotions or something else I can’t quite describe.” The scattered books were beginning to make more sense to the Shadowsinger. You pointed to them with open hands, “It’s useful for work… overwhelming when it comes to everything else. Especially after the war with what everyone went through.”

You hesitated. You waited for him to say what you’d been told your entire life: It’s an incredible power. You should be so proud. The Mother has blessed you with this gift. You’re special Y/n.

But Azriel only looked down to your tightly clasped hands, and then to his own.

“That must be quite a burden. To be exposed to all of that.”

Your eyes snapped up to him as he quietly tugged at his gloves.

“It is.” You murmured beneath your breath, feeling tears begin to prick at your eyes.

Azriel’s heart clenched in his chest.

“Is that why you won’t touch anyone? Why you ran away from the party?”

Why you ran away from me that night?

You nodded guiltily.

Azriel sighed, eyes closing in relief. All this time he’d been terrified that you hated him, thinking that you’d seen him for what he truly was - a monster.

“It was nothing to do with you.” You said quickly, leaning closer.

Your hands shot out towards him before freezing midway. You wanted to touch him. You wanted to hold his hands. You felt him tugging at the edges of your heart, like a curious hand pulling at fraying threads. You’d known him less than a week and already you’d spoken more with him than anyone else in the past year. Spent more time with him. Shared your secrets with all the recklessness of young love. What were you thinking?

You pulled away, lips tightening into a flat, angry line. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. You hadn’t asked for this power, even though others never failed to envy you for it. It was a terrible gift that you couldn’t return when the real thing you wanted was the simple joy of holding Azriel’s hand.

But that wouldn’t be fair to him either.

He was a Shadowsinger - a Spymaster to be exact - filled with enough secrets to break the world three times over. To touch him… to kiss him, would be the worst invasion of privacy. Even if you didn’t intend for it to happen.

Azriel finally spoke and his voice filled the silence with a music you wanted to hear more of, “Being a Shadowsinger… It's not easy. I’ve had plenty of people tell me I should be grateful for it. Grateful for my power and the prestige it's brought me. But sometimes I can’t help but wonder if it was worth the cost.” You stared at him, eyes so wide he swore they could swallow him whole, “I understand, Y/n. I know it’s not exactly the same… but I understand.”

“Do you think you’d be happier, Azriel, if you hadn’t been born a Shadowsinger?”

He shrugged, “I don’t think that’s the way it works, Y/n.”

“No… no I suppose you’re right about that.” You murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

He gently nudged the coffee table and it lightly tapped your shins.

“It’s not all bad.” You raised your eyebrows, urging him to continue, “If I wasn’t a Shadowsinger, I wouldn’t have met you.”

You chuckled, a stray tear slipping out and dripping onto the rug. You brushed the rest of the moisture away.

“Maybe you would have. Maybe you would have come to the Day Court to study.” Azriel snorted. The sun would sooner rise in the west and set in the east before anyone called Azriel an academic. “Maybe we would have gotten into arguments about research and books.”

“About the historical accuracy of chicken eggs?”

“About the anatomical considerations of having sex with a dragon-born.” You clarified. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Azriel said, smiling.

He’d never been born for the quiet life. Shadowsinger or not, he was a warrior through and through. But looking around at the plush sofa and the faelights flooding in from the athenaeum, he couldn’t help but imagine what kinds of peace you’d bring into his life if he ever mustered up the courage to tell you the truth.

You’re my mate.

The words kept rattling around in his mind as the pair of you spent the day holed up in your apartment.

It was a comfortable haze. You didn’t ask why he lingered, although he felt your burning curiosity through the bond, and he never offered you an explanation. The truth was, no matter his reason for sitting on the couch reading his own sensitive reports, you liked his company… and you wanted him to stay. He saw it in the way your eyes always latched onto him when he stood up, only relaxing when he settled back down.

It was a comforting pain to know that you wanted him, even if you didn’t know why and even if he was too much of a coward to do anything about it.

He didn’t eat, politely declining every stubborn offer of yours until you finally gave up. He wouldn’t be accepting any food from you from here on out. It wasn’t until you made the mistake of yawning from your spot on the floor, papers radiating out from you like a sunburst, that he made any effort to leave.

He looked towards the window. Long, sharp shadows crept along the floor and mingled with his own.

Fuck. He promised Rhys he’d be back by mid-afternoon.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stay so long.” He stood up, wings stretching out so you could see every ripple of muscle, every inky vein that ran through the thin membrane like offshoots from a river.

You scrambled to your feet, pressing an open book to your chest like that would stop your pounding heart. Time had passed too quickly.

“There’s no need to apologize. I-I liked your company. I like your company. Present tense.” You sighed without thinking, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone around.”

Cruel, malicious voices rang in Azriel’s mind. They sounded like his half-brothers and the asshole he was unfortunate enough to call a father.

Don’t do it. You’ll ruin this. You’ll ruin this like you ruin everything.

Look at this place. You don’t belong here. You don’t belong with her. You’ll never be worthy of-

“May I come see you tomorrow then?” Azriel’s words were loud, laced with hope. “I’ll bring breakfast.” He said, quieter this time.

You blushed and tried to sound nonchalant when you answered, “I would like that.”

With the promise of another day hanging in the air, that tight coil in your chest loosened, even as Azriel bowed his head and stepped outside. You gasped when he unfurled his wings, the faint glow of the street lights shining through the membrane.

There were few things Azriel loved about himself, but his wings? His wings were his pride and joy. The one beauty he felt he possessed. So when he saw the awe in your gaze, he took off a little harder than usual, delight shooting through his heart when he turned around to see you laughing and brushing the hair from your eyes.

You watched him and he watched you as he climbed higher and higher into the sky before fading into nothing.

There were three books you treasured above all else: The Natural Trials and Tribulations of Leonora Bedroot, Three Knocks for A Kiss, and A Touch of Cinnamon. They’d been your mother’s favorite novels - comforting, slice of life books that promised a happy ending no matter the sorrows that came before. Dog-eared, finger-print stained, and loved beyond measure, your mother had read them to you over and over and over again. Her notes were still scrawled in the margins, her joy still pressed between the pages like preserved flowers.

Being a Clairvoyant meant you could tap into the essence of objects, and objects held memories and emotions just as readily as people. When you thrummed your fingers over the clothbound books you got flashes of your mother. Flashes of her scent. Flashes of her affection for you.

You relied on that familiar comfort as you sat by the window and watched the sky. Every swirl in the clouds looked like Azriel to you. As if he’d swoop down from the heavens and burst through your door so you could wrap your mind around that scent of rainfall and cedar.

You buried your face in your knees and cried out in frustration. You’d wanted to crawl into his lap the entire day. To feel the warmth of his wings wrapped around you like a blanket.

Stupid stupid stupid.

You knocked your head against the worn leather-bound books. One look at his windswept hair and faint smile this morning and you’d been lost.

What would your mother say? Three days and you were already drunk on him. Were flowers, sweet treats, and a modicum of undivided attention all it took for you to fall for someone?

But it wasn’t just a bouquet of flowers - they were daisies picked from the florist down the street with the lilac doorway and hand-painted cards. It wasn’t just a box of pastries - they were from your favorite bakery with the orange icing so heavenly that for years you’d ignored cake on your birthday in favor of them.

Such detail required more than a modicum of attention. If you were right, Azriel would have needed to fly around the city inquiring after you and your mother to gain such information.

But why would he do that? Why would he bother?

The window was cool against your skin, whisking away the heat that had gathered in your cheeks after hours of thinking about the Shadowsinger.

It was a quiet night, as most nights were in the Day Court, and aside from the three Librarians who had entered The Alcove for a late night of reading, you hadn’t seen a soul. The streets were as still as a painting.

Someone drunkenly staggered out of The Alcove.

Meryl. The Alcove’s Bookkeeper.

You frowned in distaste.

Meryl was a middling Librarian at best, although he was skilled enough at the sword to have been selected for Bookkeeper training. Standing easily over six-feet tall with the strong legs of a bison and horns to match, he’d chosen the simple life presiding over The Alcove where he could drink and fuck to his heart’s desire. After all, who would care enough to attack an athenaeum dedicated to boring fiction?

Meryl clopped forward another three feet, one hand pressed to his throat. His red-trimmed robes swayed in the breeze. But his robes weren’t meant to be that red.

He stumbled to the side, close to the base of your front steps, and his eyes locked with yours.

His ears were missing, two gaping holes where the gentle slope of the cartilage should be. His lips parted in a silent scream and blood bubbled out hot and thick.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Did I steal the *hi* from Heartstopper because I've been rewatching it for the fourth time this week?................. Maybe???

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755 @sidthedollface2 @auggiesolovey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @transparentmoonglitter @ang-taylorsversion @ssmay123 @just-m-2 @sevikas-whore @lalalucha @svtwonwoow @user707sthings @cherryinsalemverse @evylynny @decrepit-bees-knees

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x mate reader #azriel acotar #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel x you #azriel mate #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #the day court

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miguelhugger2099 · 9 months ago

Text

Love ain't a Science!

Summary: Miguel takes notes on your dates. You just want him present with you. Miguel x Reader, Fluff, Drabble.

Liking Miguel wasn’t easy. Well, it was, it’s just he made it hard for himself. You sat across from him in a diner, milkshake in front of you while you sipped from the straw and stared down at Miguel while he scribbled in his notebook. His glasses slipped down his nose and he scrunched his face up to lift it back. His eyebrows were furrowed as he mumbled to himself and left his own milkshake unattended. You sipped loudly from your cup with a deadpan expression, hoping to get Miguel’s attention but he was still in his own world. You began to think about the last ‘date’ you went on with Miguel. It went very similar to this. Both of you went to the same diner as today, a step up from last time when he couldn’t decide where to go, but you had picked a different milkshake from today. He recommended one from the menu and you smiled happily and accepted it. Miguel seemed pleased at your response, gaining a bit of confidence and standing straighter next to you as you ordered and he paid. Only when you got to your seats, the booth at the corner of the wall next to the window, he pulled out his notebook from his backpack. He began scribbling like he is now, just a little less tense. He asked you questions about yourself and even asked what you liked and didn’t like–if the milkshake was good. You responded to all of them happily, beaming he seemed much more interested. Until today, where you went to the same diner and instead of ordering the milkshake Miguel recommended, you ordered a different flavor and paid for yourself. He snapped his head down towards you, baffled and not realizing you had paid while he was slack jawed. When you go to your familiar seats, Miguel pulls out that damned notebook and looks up at you from his glasses, an unsure look on his face. “Did you not like the one from last time?” He asked softly. You blink and look at your strawberry milkshake. You had chocolate previously. “I did,” You nodded. “I just thought about trying something different today and to pay on my own as thanks for last time.” You smiled at him and took your first sip from the drink.

Miguel let out a sigh as he looked at you, still unsure. He opens his notebook and begins scribbling in it. Has been for the last twenty minutes. His milkshake had gone lukewarm, whipped cream slipping down the glass and cherry nearly toppling over. Your sipping became loud and obnoxious as you finished the drink, chewing on the plastic straw in mild annoyance. Deciding you had enough, you slid the empty glass to the side and snatched his notebook from his hands. Miguel gasped, his eyes meeting yours in a frightened gaze and tried reaching for his notebook across the table but you held it up and away from him with a frown on your lips. “Just what is in this notebook that you bring it and ignore me every time we hang out?” You tsked and flipped open the notebook, Miguel letting out a strangled yelp when you did so. Miguel was rendered helpless, his cheeks growing warm since he was unable to be rough with you and fight for it back so, he let you skim through it.

Inside his notebook were various pages filled to the brim with messy writing about your past dates with him. All ranging from the very beginning, crossing out places you may or may not have liked so he could pick the best option to writing down your favorite foods to find the best meal he could give you. You saw your answers to his questions scribbled on the next page, crossing out ideas that didn’t fit what you liked. Other random spots were drawings of your face done completely out of angles, figuring out each angle and curve of your features to its perfection. His recent page was even more scribbled on why his ‘hypothesis’ of you liking chocolate milkshakes didn’t work this time. Your frown broke into a smile, flattering blooming in your chest. You started laughing which prompted Miguel to sink in his seat, place his elbows on the table and cover his blushing face with his hands. “Are you seriously using science on our dates?” You asked between laughter. Miguel grumbles, his face growing hotter by the second. “I’m not one of your experiments, Miggy.” You close the notebook and tap it on his head that made him peek through his fingers. You smiled reassuringly at him with a few giggles escaping you. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, dropping his hands to reveal the dark red on his cheeks. You shook your head. “I’ll allow it this time, but I’m keeping this,” You waved the notebook before setting it down next to you. Miguel restrains himself from reaching out to take it back. “Just stay with me. Here. You won’t figure me out by studying me. I like you, You like me–let’s not make this complicated.” You explained and set your hands on the table. He sets his own hands on the table, awkwardly looking at the marbled surface. He glances at his melted and warm milkshake and looks at you. You give an encouraging nod to him. Miguel takes his glass and brings the straw to his mouth, a sheepish grin on his lips as he looks at you. You don’t break eye contact as he takes his first sip and laughed when the taste registers in his mouth and he gags, coughing and desperately trying to swallow it down. “How was it?” You laugh. He sputters a bit, his voice a little hoarse.

“Really, really stale.” He coughs and you keep laughing. He looks at how much brighter you seemed now and his heart skips a beat. Miguel pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose and smiles softly while your laughing died down to giggles. This was much easier than using science.

A/N: *grips shy nerd miguel in my grasp so hard his eyes bug out of his sockets* quieres?

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #atsv x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #Spotify

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