#they would dance so gorgeously together

[ingravinoveritas]

no-paperwork replied to your post "David wearing a kilt and tank top while dancing…"

So..Maybe.. Is there a version of this when, in the Night Press, Michael enters the dressing room and finds David dancing…?

@no-paperwork Oh, that would be utterly lovely. I could see Michael chuckling softly and watching in rapt attention for a few minutes before David notices him. He'd flush red under Michael's intense gaze, embarrassed and pleased in equal measure. And then David would grab Michael's hand and pull him into a dance, like the reverse of Aziraphale and Crowley...

[serverusslaype]

The Yule Ball, pt. 1

Severus Snape x professor!reader

omg wow two posts in one day? who am i?

i also wanted to post this because i asked about it a while ago lmao, but i'm going to split it into two parts and finish the end of the second part tomorrow after work, it's mostly done, i just need to tidy it up hehe. this isn't very long, however, in part two, it gets good of course. pls don't hate me :( </3

i hope you are all doing well!! :)

warnings: slight harassment? ew, karkaroff

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was sparkling and lively as loud laughter and chatter filled the wintry and festively decorated room. Several large round tables were dotted around the sides of it, laden with beautiful white centrepieces and matching silver cutlery and glittering glassware. Long, blue-grey curtains adorned with artifical snow hung from the walls between the majestic and mythical stone statues, as if imitating frozen waterfalls. A warm and fuzzy feeling settled in your body as you glanced around the gorgeously decorated Hall, a small smile finding your cherry-red painted lips. 

You sat alone at a table in a silky, backless, long-sleeved dress with only a goblet of wine for company as you watched students and teachers alike dance joyously on the floor to a melodious tune. You had to bite back an amused grin as your eyes caught sight of Hagrid's hand slipping down to Madame Maxine's rear. She quickly swatted it away, and you couldn't help but chuckle quietly to yourself. Ever since the international schools arrived at Hogwarts, Hagrid seemed to be smitten with the enormous witch, and you could see why. Madame Maxine was stunning and classy; always dressed in the finest attire you could ever imagine - and of course, always carried herself with elegance. You envied her slightly as you watched the pair sway sweetly together.

Speaking of the international schools, a certain Headmaster had taken a liking to you during their stay and Hogwarts, and it didn't please you at all. In fact, it made you rather uncomfortable. Well, he made you uncomfortable. You shivered slightly at the thought of Igor Karkaroff and lifted your goblet of wine to your lips, downing the rest of it carelessly. You'd been avoiding him all night, and you hoped you wouldn't have to speak to him for the rest of it. 

As you placed the goblet back down, you glanced around, catching sight of Minerva stood to the right of Dumbledore and Snape who were currently observing the dancing students. Though you were looking at the older witch, your eyes were magnetically pulled to the wizard dressed in all black - surprisingly without his signature cloak.

Professor Snape.

You'd spoken to him a few times, but not many - he wasn't the most welcoming man you'd met. In fact, he was rather cold and short with you, which wasn't too unsurprising since he'd taught you back in the day when you attended Hogwarts as a student. So, you knew exactly what he was like. In those days, despite his harsh and cruel attitude towards you and your classmates, you developed a silly little crush on him. You weren't exactly sure why - perhaps it was the mysterious aura that he possessed, or his deep, sultry and silky voice he spoke with, or maybe it was just the plain simple fact that he was... attractive to you. Gods, your classmates would have disowned you, had you admitted such a thing.

Regardless of your history here, being the youngest professor here was a little intimidating to say the least, and the need to prove yourself was overwhelming. At times, you felt as if you didn't deserve your post as the professor of Astronomy - how could a twenty-something-year-old be qualified enough to teach students less than ten years their junior? Doubting yourself was bound to happen, especially in the presence of such talented, wise wizards like Dumbledore, Flitwick and McGonagall - Flitwick was a duelling champion, for goodness sake. And what were you? Merely infatuated with the nightsky and everything that possibly dwells beyond it? Merlin.

A deflated sigh swiftly fell from your lips as you quickly stood up from your seat, beginning to reluctantly head over in the direction of your fellow colleagues. It's not like you didn't want to stand with them, you just felt awfully out of place, and you didn't want to look weird by sitting all by your lonesome all night. Being the new person at the new job was never fun.

As you neared them, your eyes were drawn to the gloomy Potions Master again. As if he could sense someone watching him, his deep black eyes flicked to you, and you quickly glanced away with burning cheeks, walking forwards to stop beside Minerva. Maybe your crush never went away, and you winced slightly at the thought.

Turning to Minerva, she looked at you with happy eyes, a smile gracing her lips. "Y/N," Minerva beamed, her shoulders relaxing in a cheerful manner, "we'd wondered where you'd disappeared off to."

You hummed happily at her words, your stiff body relaxing slightly. McGonagall had been your favourite professor when you'd studied at Hogwarts, even though you didn't exactly excel in her class of Transfiguration. She never berated you for your lack of skill in the subject and that was probably what solidified your preference.

You looked at the witch beside you, though a silhouette of a prominent nose and a mop of black hair clouded your vision. "Just needed a sit down, really." You replied with a soft voice, smiling as you linked your fingers together in front of your waist. "Also, I fancied some more wine, it's rather moreish." Minerva and Dumbledore chuckled at your light-hearted joke, but Snape did not. You swallowed awkwardly.

"Perhaps it isn't wise to be drinking in the presence of students, Professor L/N." Snape drawled in a demeaning tone from beside Dumbledore, side-eyeing you.

"What makes you think I'm going to get drunk?" You frowned, his subtle dig at you twisting your insides. Crush or not, he was getting under your skin.

Snape snorted slightly, "A history of misbehaviour at Hogwarts doesn't bode well." He said, turning his head to face you. You fought the itching urge to roll your eyes at his words, remembering that one time you had pranked his class.

"That was one time, Snape." You sighed, fighting hard not to groan. Apparently, he wasn't going to let this go. "And it was years ago now."

"I wouldn't want to take any chances." He sneered at you, and your stomach twisted horribly. Did he really despise you that much? It hurt to say the least, you thought he would've put that in the past and moved on, but apparently grudges are the next best thing.

"Right." You huffed quietly, and Minerva cast an awkward glance to Dumbledore who also looked rather uncomfortable. Yes, this was a terrible idea coming to stand with your colleagues. A fucking terrible idea. Snape always had to make you look childish. Suddenly, you pathetically wished that Karkaroff would suddenly appear and bother you so you wouldn't have to deal with this awful interaction. Anything would be better than this right now.

As if on cue, someone called your name. "Would you excuse me?" You sighed, casting an apologetic smile towards Dumbledore and McGonagall, purposefully ignoring Snape. Dumbledore also excused himself, leaving only the Heads of Slythering and Gryffindor together.

As you and Dumbledore walked off, Minerva turned to Snape with scornful eyes. "You shouldn't be so harsh on her, Severus," she huffed, "she's not a child anymore. Y/N is an adult, capable of making adult decisions. There's no need for such hostility." 

Snape didn't reply, he only sighed heavily at Minerva's comment, prompting the older witch to roll her eyes at his petty behaviour. Though, underneath his cold and dismissive attitude towards you, there was something else. Something he did not want to unfold, nor understand. It wasn't a familiar feeling, and that was what worried him. And so, each time you spoke to him or looked at him, he had chosen to push that feeling away by being malicious to you. Snape wasn't fond of it, and he did resent himself slightly by acting so horribly towards you. Something inside of him tugged at his heart each time your face fell due to his sharp words, or the way he'd glare at you whenever you looked at him. It was the only thing he knew. Snape wasn't familiar with nor welcoming to feelings other than hatred or disdain.

The Potions Master cast his eyes over the crowds of students, absent-mindedly looking for your small figure. It's not like he wanted to check on you, he just wanted to see who had called for you, out of... curiosity. And there you were, chatting with the Weasley twins. Snape couldn't remember your exact age, but he was sure you were mid-twenties, perhaps early-twenties. Your youthful face and essence said so. As he observed you, his chest burned unusually as you laughed at something the twins had said, and it burned even hotter when he saw them hand you something. What were they doing?

"It's just a little something," Fred grinned goofily in his tuxedo as you held a small, neatly-wrapped box in your hands. It was a pale red, with a shining green bow. You looked up at them and smiled gratefully.

"Yeah, we just wanted to say thanks for being a brilliant teacher," George added after his brother, making you grin amused. The two of them always made you laugh in your classes, it was like they were the same person from how well they bounced off of each other.

"Oh, thank you, boys," you grinned, a little shocked at their kindness, "you didn't need to get me anything." Both Fred and George grinned together, their fluffy ginger hair bouncing a tad as they glanced at each other.

"You're our favourite, you know," George said, and Fred nodded with him, beaming. You chuckled at their silly smiles.

"Yeah, you're a thousand times better than any of the other professors," Fred agreed cheerfully, folding his arms against his chest.

"Especially Snape-" George interjected. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound of his name.

"Yeah, he's a right old miserable git, he is." Fred grumbled, nodding behind you. "He's staring right at us, too." Your stomach dropped the second Fred said those words, and you quickly whipped your head around, your eyes meeting with Snape's own fierce ones. As quickly as you looked at him, you turned back around, your face becoming hot and pink.

"Are you blushing, professor?" George grinned wickedly, glancing at his brother who also shared that same expression.

 "No!" You answered quickly, gasping.

"Don't tell me you like that horrible arse," Fred laughed, his eyebrows shooting upwards.

"I wouldn't have expected you to fancy a Slytherin like him." George frowned, his nose turning up in slight disgust. "I mean, he hates everything and everyone, why would you-"

"I never even said I liked him! You two just assumed so!" You scoffed, folding your arms against your chest. The twins laughed at your reaction, glancing at each other. "Anyway, boys, thank you for the gift, but this conversation is over." Another hefty sigh fell from your lips as you looked between the two of them, smiling politely.

"Professor L/N," A raspy, deep voice came from behind you, and instantly, your blood went cold. You knew that thick accent very well. Fred and George Weasley looked like they were on the verge of busting out laughing. They knew of your dislike for the Durmstrang Headmaster, and you were sure that the majority of the school knew of his weird, little thing for you.

"Headmaster Karkaroff." You turned around hesitantly, fighting back a scream of utter frustration. He looked a little more groomed than usual - his messy, dark brown hair with specks of gray in it was brushed through, and his long goatee had been neatly manipulated into a sharp point. You were also surprised to see him dressed in such expensive looking clothing. The dress coat he sported was a creamy-beige, adorned with a shining black leather belt around his middle, accentuating his lanky figure.

"You look like you need a dance," The corners of his lips turned upwards into a mischievous smirk, and an uncomfortable shiver ran down your spine. "May I help with that?" Karkaroff held out his hand, and your eyes shot down towards it.

"Erm," you stuttered, "well-" You couldn't find the words at all, and it wasn't helping that you could hear the twins behind you snickering to themselves. Before you could even answer, Karkaroff had his hand grasping yours and tugging you to the dancefloor. You stumbled slightly at how fast he had pulled you, and with your other hand, you reached down to grab your skirt to hike it up so you wouldn't trip over.

As the pair of you reached the floor after winding through hoards of dancing students, Karkaroff spun you around a little too quickly, and you ungracefully fell into his chest with a squeak. "Sorry," you mumbled, using a hand to push yourself away from him, "I wasn't really expecting you to do... that."

"You know," Igor chuckled, ignoring your previous comments, "I've been waiting for this moment ever since I arrived here at Hogwarts." He admitted with a wicked smirk, allowing his rough, bony fingers to slide down your bare back, gripping you a little too tightly for your liking.

"...To dance?" You frowned, using your free hand to fidget with his hand that laid flat against your bare back, silently telling him to ease off a little. "Don't be silly." You chuckled awkwardly, casting a glance over to where you had previously stood with the other teachers as you and Karkaroff swayed. Only Snape remained, and your face grew as hot as a firepit as you noticed his eyes were already stuck on you. His face was the usual unhappy, scornful, sour frown.

"Oh, but I am not being silly, little bird." Igor murmured, pushing his face closer to yours. Instinctively, you pulled your head away from his, scrunching your nose up at the awful pet name.

"Little bird?" You repeated, almost choking the words out. You squirmed within his uncomfy grip, casting another glance to Snape, hoping that he'd have just an ounce of human decency to realise that you were asking for help. Surely, he wouldn't be that much of an arsehole to ignore the sign of a colleague in trouble.

"Yes," Igor smiled, making your skin crawl. "You remind me of a little bird - tiny, beautiful..." Your eyes widened at his words, and again, you glanced to where you had seen Snape. Your heart dropped like a rock as you noticed the empty space where he had previously stood. You knew he was a dick, but not so much of a dick to let you get taken hostage by a man you hardly knew - and didn't want to know. "So beautiful... why don't we ditch this party and head back to my quarters? I could show you around." Karkaroff muttered and pulled you even closer, grinning lecherously as he brushed his nose against the crook of your neck. Your breath hitched - but not in a good way.

"Igor..." Your voice was shaky, yet low, indicating that you weren't comfortable at all.

"How about we go somewhere more private?" Karkaroff's hands tightened even more as they slipped down to your hips, pulling your body flush against his. A quiet gasp left your lips as you pressed your palms flat against his chest, attempting to push him off of you. Your eyes flicked to where Snape once stood again, but he was no-where to be seen.

"Something caught your eye, pilentse?" Karkaroff hummed lowly, his eyes narrowing, evidently upset that your attention is busied with something or someone else.

"No." You quickly replied - almost too quickly. "I just need a refreshment, do you mind?" You forced yourself to glance up at Karkaroff's intense, wrinkled eyes.

"Oh, no, that can wait. I've waited almost the whole night for this moment..." Igor grumbled with a sneer as his grip on you became deeper and a little tighter, as if to say you weren't leaving until he deemed it so. That was until you saw that same sneer fall from his face, replaced with what looked like fear. Instantly, your brows furrowed together into a confused frown as you noticed his eyes dart from yours to something behind you, and so you turned around, curious to see why Karkaroff looked like he was about to flee.

"Karkaroff." Snape's deep, almost threatening voice reached your ears, and immediately, your mouth went dry as your heart leaped up into it. So... he did notice you? A rush of relief filled your body and your shoulders relaxed a tad. Snape glanced down at you, his thick mop of black hair framing his pale face. The blue-white light from above highlighted his prominent, handsome features perfectly, and you felt a sense of warmth prickle your skin, pooling in your stomach. You looked away, certain that if you kept staring, he'd assume you were weird or something along those lines.

Igor swallowed thickly, his bony fingers digging into the skin of your back in fear. You winced slightly at the sharp prod, catching Snape's attention. His eyes darted down to where Karkaroff had an iron-grip on you, and his lip twitched into the beginning of a sneer as he looked back to Igor's worried eyes. "Snape," The Durmstrang Headmaster greeted the gloomy Potions Master, clearly a little afraid of him. Apparently everyone was fearful of Snape, except for a select few, you realised. "What can I help you with?" Karkaroff's thick accent had slipped slightly, his voice wavering. You had to stifle a laugh at that - how was a man like Igor Karkaroff afraid of Snape? There was definitely something that you were missing here.

"Professor L/N," Snape ignored Karkaroff and shifted his bored expression to you, though you didn't miss the venomous look that he'd shot at the Bulgarian. You were still in disbelief that Snape had answered your silent cries for help, let alone actually come to save you from Karkaroff's slimy grasp. "I believe we have some important matters to tend to." Snape said matter-of-factly, arching a brow at you expectantly. 

"Wait, what?-" You choked out with wide eyes. You'd been staring a little too hard at Snape, and so you stumbled over your words, unprepared. "Oh, right, yeah- the, erm, the... valerian root." You finished, turning a bright shade of red as Snape's brows furrowed at you in a judgemental fashion, as if to say 'seriously?'.

"Yes," Snape drawled, dragging his disappointed eyes from you to Karkaroff. You huffed quietly, embarrassed. "The valerian root." The Potion Master repeated, shooting you a glare. He held out his hand for you to take, and you reached out to grasp a hold of it, when you were suddenly tugged backwards by Karkaroff. Snape's narrowed eyes darted to the Headmaster's hand wrapped securely around your waist, his nostrils flaring in slight anger. This old, despicable man had no business holding a young witch like you in such a manner.

"That can wait, surely?" Karkaroff said, his voice low as he tucked you closer to his side. You shot a desperate glance to Snape, begging him to help you again. A frustrated breath shot out of his nostrils.

"Tragically, no." Snape quipped sarcastically, his dark eyes piercing a burning hole through Karkaroff. Snape looked furious - his body was rigid. He hadn't moved a muscle apart from his eyes to look at either you or Igor. "Professor?" He glanced to you, stretching his hand to you once more, and you took it happily, allowing him to pull you out of Karkaroff's slimy hands and to his safe side. Your cheeks flushed pink at the closeness between you two, and you kept your eyes on the ground as Snape shifted his hand to sit on the small of your back, guiding you away from Karkaroff.

Part 2! (wip) Masterpost

there is part 1, i hope you enjoyed it, and i hope it was sort of what you expected! i can't remember what i said i was going to do but this is what i came up with hehe. i'm always a sucker for jealousy.

let me know if you liked it/what you thought, i do apologise that it was kinda short, but it'll be finished tomorrow! <3

i hope you're all well! :)

[da-rulah]

hiii, hope you're doing well !!

i was wondering if i could request hcs of the papas (and cardi cause i wanna smooch this silly bitch) with an s/o who has them thick thighs :) been feeling a bit insecure and i feel the body dismorphia coming back... SFW or NSFW (or both!), i leave it up to you, also if you don't feel comfortable doing it that's completely fine !

take care <3

My darling, thick thighs save lives. And food, when you drop it into your lap, from hitting the floor. Enjoy them; they are beautiful and should be treated as such. (I too have thick-ass thighs and learning to love them was a process, but we here bbyg).

So I absolutely will do this for ya.

Also, there is a wonderful fic by @her-satanic-wiles about Terzo and his Thigh Fucking Agenda that is absolutely worth a read...

NSFW 18+ MDNI! Thick-thighed GN!Reader

Primo

Primo is a well travelled, wise old man. He has experienced beauty in so many forms, and indulged in them too.

But there is none more beautiful that he can recall, than you.

He remembers the first time he'd seen your pretty little face in the Ministry, in the pews of the Chapel as he conducted Mass.

He remembers the way your thighs spilled from the slit in your habit against the bench. He'd found you hypnotising.

The first time he'd kissed you had been a passionate affair, one where he couldn't help but reach down and lift your thigh up to his hip; not simply for the friction of his groin against yours, but the feeling of those pillowy soft thighs in his hands and against his hip.

"Fiorellina, you are a wonder..."

Even now, he likes to lay his head in your lap of an evening. He doesn't have the long hair for you to play with anymore, no. But he still enjoys the soft tickle of your fingertips dancing across his head.

Secondo

Secondo has told you many times he enjoys the thickness of your thighs, the expanse of flesh available to him.

"More of you to leave my mark on, dolcezza..."

And he does. With more flesh to work with, he gets to paint pretty bruises, hickies and scratches all over them.

He'll grab fistfuls of you as he's fucking into you too, loving how your thighs envelope his hips and pull him deeper into you.

Your favourite part of every encounter is the aftercare he gives you.

He peppers kisses all over the marks he's made, soothing the aches, the burns, the scratches he's made.

He's so tender with you after, a side of Secondo not many get to see. He reserves that for you, and you alone.

Terzo

Whilst he loves every part of your gorgeously thick body, he has always gravitated towards your thighs more.

A lot of the time it's a comfort thing... After a long day he'll nuzzle into them and likely fall asleep there. Sometimes, however, this is a playful act to lull you into a false sense of security.

He'll nuzzle, roll his head away from you, and then out of nowhere, you'll feel a bite into your flesh that has you yelping not in pain, but in surprise.

There had been an occasion when he was about to fuck you, lining himself up with your ankles pressed together and raised to block your view of him, where he had slipped his cock between your thighs instead.

You'd thought he'd missed, too overexcited and simply fucked his angle up.

"No, tesoro... wanted to fuck these thighs for the longest time. You don't mind, eh?"

You certainly did not mind.

Copia (Cardinal)

One of the Cardinal's favourite things to do for you, was oral sex.

He always just wanted to please you, he needed to know you were enjoying yourself, that he was being useful. It was never just about him.

He'd never voiced it with anything other than a deep groan, but the way your thighs would enclose around his head only ever aroused him more.

He'd seen those videos on the internet of people squishing watermelons with their powerful thighs - he wondered if you could do that to him. He was sure you could.

The first time he'd told you to sit on his face terrified you.

"But I don't want to hurt you..." you'd worried, but he scoffed and hovered his lips above yours, demanding eye contact with a finger under your chin.

"Cara mio, I don't want you to hover. I don't want you to lean. I want you to sit. I want to feel the weight of your body and the crush of your magnificare thighs around me. Fucking. Sit. On. My. Face."

You did as he asked, so unbelievably turned on and he'd loved every second of it.

[daydreamgoddess14]

Saturday Mornings

MASTERLIST

🤸‍♀️ Well , well, well, didn't take long to get me back on my bullshit, did it? 🤣 I bring you a Roy Kent smutty one shot. Enjoy the gorgeousness of this man 🥵

Roy doesn't have a thing for Phoebe's dance teacher. Until he does. 👀

For @littleesilvia 😘

Saturday Mornings

Saturday morning had always been for Phoebe. From the day she was born, Roy had dedicated every Saturday morning to her. In the first weeks of her birth, he'd let himself into his sister's house and picked up a squawking Phoebe from the moses basket and taken care of her from 6-10 am so his sister could get more sleep. In those early days, he'd spoken to her in his deep, gruff voice while she drifted in and out of sleep. Then they'd go for a walk to the shop, the neighbours peeping into the buggy until Roy had growled at them to "Fuck off and stop gawping at her, she's trying to fucking sleep." As she got a little older, it became cartoons and cereal - devoured together on the sofa, and then a trip to the park. He'd arranged everything for 9 years around his Saturday mornings with Phoebe. Even away matches with a midday kick off didn't stop him, it didn't matter if it was an hour, or five hours - match day or no match day, rain or shine, if he was single or not, Uncle Roy would be there. Their time alone together moved through her swimming lessons phase, gymnastics phase, and morphed into his coaching her kids team. He wanted to be on board with this next phase - really, he did. 

 

After 8 weeks of lessons, he'd finally put his finger on what the problem was. The dancing was nothing new, Phoebe had tried ballet, tap, some weird toddler baby dance shit. 16 weeks ago, she'd switched to some kind of pop/tween dance class with a lovely older woman who mostly sat to one side and pointed to each move, each music transition. It had been great, 8.30-9.30am every Saturday, fucking wonderful. Then 8 weeks ago, that woman had switched classes and you had taken over. You, with your tight Tik Tok leggings and your cropped t-shirt. You who showed the kids each move over and over again. The number of dad's attending the class had suddenly gone up. It had been 6 months since he thought that he and Keeley could try again, but she'd made it clear that that was not the case. He'd been single for longer than 6 months before, sure, but not for a long time. Back then in his younger days, he'd thought nothing of a mutually convenient resolution with a friend until he met his next significant other. He’d come to the conclusion now that he was too fucking old for a friends with benefits situation. 

 

If it was just Saturday mornings that were the problem, he could live with that. He started out by taking a book and ignoring the class completely, but Phoebe did not like that at all. So he switched to audiobooks, brought a pair of fucking ear buds so he could drown out the sound of your voice, your gentle encouragement and the giggles. If it wasn’t the leggings going to tip him over the edge, it was going to be the giggles. Or the praise. Weird, he didn’t realise he had a bit of a praise kink before. Then he heard you in a breathy voice saying something that definitely could apply to situations other than a 9 year olds dance class and nearly had to leave the room. No, it wasn’t just Saturday mornings anymore. You came to mind now at the most inconvenient times. Sitting on the bike while Jamie pulled him along at 5am when shouting at Jamie in the street would have been frowned upon and they instead trained quietly, whenever one of the kids dance routine songs came on the radio and he was forced to relive watching you teach them, at night in the dark when he was alone, in the shower… He absolutely had to stop thinking about you like this. Like you’d see it in his eyes when you waved good morning, or when he held his bank card over your little hand held machine to pay for the classes. He also couldn’t stand the very much married men who flirted so openly with you. Clearly telling their wives at home, no love, I’ll take little… Mabel to dance class, you stay here and have a lie in and a cup of tea.  

 

It was funny how they’d migrated from the later morning class which was run by a woman who had the body shape of a fucking pencil. Beautiful, yeah she wasn’t bad. But she didn’t have the strong thighs you did, the sweeping curve of your hip into a cute little waist. He couldn’t go another week like this. Had to stop now, stop being so pervy. He was no better than the other blokes who came to watch their kids' class. Except he was slightly better, because he was actually single. 

“Uncle Roy, we’re here, come on!” Phoebe was already half out of the car. He braced himself for another week of torture.

“Good morning guys! Come in, I’m just getting set up.” You called out from across the room. He was a bit too early really. Not intentionally, of course not. You were still in your hoodie, still setting up the portable speaker and drinking a Costa coffee. You put a song on in the background and he had to hold his breath while you pulled off the warm grey sweater. As it came off, it pulled the baggy cropped t-shirt up as well, exposing your sports bra underneath, the soft skin of your stomach. It was definitely soft whenever he thought about it anyway. You straightened yourself out and sat on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you and reaching forward to your toes. Phoebe lept out of her seat, threw her coat at Roy and plonked herself down in front of you, mirroring your pose. “Joining me for a warm up Phoebs?” 

“It’s important to warm up. My Uncle Roy is a football coach and he says it’s the most important part.”

“He’s not wrong.” You smiled, moving through some other poses and stretches. He was a dead man. This was it. The end, this was how it was going to go. You stretch your arms up as far as you can reach them, stretching out your back with a little pop. He tried to ignore the fucking Grecian vase shape your body made, truly. Until you’d made a noise a little too close to a moan for his liking, followed by, “Holy shit that feels good.”

 

Fucking hell. Fucking hell .

 

“Sorry Phebs, didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s ok. I’ll let you off the first time, but you owe me a pound next time.”

“Aww thanks.” The class soon filled up, he wished he’d taken a seat way at the back, out of the way so he could either look at you without it being so noticeable, or ignore you completely. He totally respected your classes, he really did. It was a tricky thing, conducting an age appropriate class for 9 year olds which avoided sexualising dance moves but also made them feel like they were able to move their bodies how they wanted to. Of course, it’s not always the dance moves themselves which could be seen as sexual, more often it’s the person watching who makes that connotation. And he tried so, so hard not to do that. Tried desperately to not think about how your body would move underneath his, on top of his, the beautiful sounds he could draw from you. He needed to get out, feigned a phone call, holding up his phone as he got to the door so you knew he’d be right outside if Phoebe needed anything. He didn’t think you’d even seen him until you gave him a little thumbs up. 

 

At the end of the class, you encourage the kids to just sit for a minute. You all usually end up sprawled on your backs, not having to make eye contact makes it easier for some of the kids to talk openly if they wanted help or an opinion on something. It was somewhat of an eye opener for the parents as well. This week, you had the kids sit up so they could see you, 

“I thought I might take you on a little trip, if you guys fancy it? I was going to go and see the new Barbie film after class next week. If any of you want to come with me, with your grown up - of course - then we could have a really exciting morning! I’m not allowed to take any of you without another grown up though, ok? So you’ll have to check with them first.” You handed each of them a little pink party invite. He already knew before Phoebe asked. Their match next week was on Sunday so he was free all of Saturday morning. He had no excuse to not take her, he also didn’t think he wanted one. 

 

He hoped you were a little bit dumb. It was a horrible thought, he knew that, to wish stupidity on someone. But if there was any chance of him making a full recovery and banishing you to the depths of his mind, never to turn up again - especially not when he was in the shower with his hand around himself, he really fucking hoped that you were dumber than a box of rocks. You weren’t. He already had an inkling of that, but he could still live in hope. 

“Fancy the Barbie movie next week?” You’d asked brightly as he’d held out his card to pay, he wasn’t sure if it was the physical and mental turmoil of having to watch you for the last hour, but he thought he could detect a sliver of hope in your voice.

“Fucking probably, she won’t let me say no.” Phoebe held out a hand for her pound. “Add it to my tab.” 

 

And of course, that’s how he found himself in a dark cinema the following week with a gaggle of kids around him. He was still trying to work out if it was a blessing or a curse that he’d ended up sitting next to you - it had certainly earned him glares from one or two of the other grown ups. As you laughed again at another joke aimed to sail just over pre-teen heads, he knew it was a curse. It had to be. Forced to listen to that laugh for two hours? Fucking torture. When you cried, he knew he was done for. He reached over, just a little and patted the back of your hand in comfort. Just a little there, there gesture. You’d only fucking gripped his hand and squeezed it, he stole a glance at you and you’d given him a watery smile and a little lopsided shrug. Then you’d let go of his hand, and turned back to the movie. He had to spend the remaining 45 minutes of the film trying not to think about your warm hands carefully exploring his body. 

 

The following week, he did it.

“Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?” He asked quietly as his card payment went through. He didn’t think you’d heard him until you looked up sharply.

"Aren't you like way out of my league?"

"What league is that then?”

“Well, you're in the ridiculously fit footballer league? Y’know for people who date supermodels and influencers?”

“I wouldn't fucking know about that.”

“I'm sure you would, I'm sure they don’t kick you out once you retire. Once a fit footballer, always a fit footballer? Is that the name of it? The… F. I. T? Or is it just the R.F.F.L?”

“What's that stand for?”

“No idea, it's your league, you tell me. Footballers Into Tits?”

“That’s a shit acronym”

“I know. I can do better, promise. Give me a minute.”

“I'm sure you'd be alright in that league” He said quietly,

“Excuse me? That was very cheeky. Ohh, maybe it could stand for ‘Filthy rich but Impossibly Tedious’?”

“That’s pretty good, definitely suits some footballers I know. Alright, fine. What fucking league are you in, then?”

“Whatever the Conference equivalent of the F.I.T is.”

“Now that can’t be true.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just fucking do. Is it a yes to coffee?”

“I mean, I still think you’re way too high up the F.I.T for me, but sure.”

“It’s the R.F.F.L actually.” He smirks as you hand him a flyer for the class. 

“My number is on there.” You tell him, then you’d walked away without taking his number, which meant he was going to have to be the one to contact you first. No, you definitely weren’t dumb. Shit .

 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a combination of factors really, a busy week at work meant though he’d messaged you quickly, he wasn’t actually able to meet for coffee until the end of the week. So you’d spent all week in a message exchange which had ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.

“Would you rather fight 100 tiny Jamie Tartt’s or 1 giant one?”

“100 tiny ones. I’d fucking stamp on them all.”

“Figured out what league you’re in.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Champions League.”

“Fuck off am I. I’ve wikipedia’d your dating history mate. Gina Gershon? I think I should cancel coffee now…”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Do you always try so hard to look like you’re not looking at dance class?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uhuh. Ok.”

“Yes, I do. Every week is torture.”

“Jamie says I’m too old for the R.F.F.L.”

“Maybe that works in my favour. If I’m up against Gina fucking Gershon, I’d have no chance.”

“You’re not up against anyone.”

“I've been thinking about you all morning.”

“Was that flirting? Were you just flirting with me?”

“Shut up. See you later.”

And now… well. Coffee at 3pm on a Friday turned into dinner at 6pm, dessert at 8pm and a nightcap at 10pm in his kitchen. You tapped the edge of your empty tumbler,

“Another?” He asked, leaning against the counter just across from you.

“No, thank you. I should… go.” The lift at the end meant it could have been a statement, could have been a question. He nodded,

“Early class.”

“Yep. I think we lost track of time.”

“Or not,” he offered,

“Or not,” you bit your lip and he felt indecision fluttering in his chest. He pushed off the counter and closed the gap between you both in only one step.

“If I kissed you now, would you be mad?” He asked softly, he could see your body tremble with the breath you took.

“Think I’d be more mad if you didn’t.” He watched you hold his gaze for as long as you could before looking at his mouth. He took the tumbler from you and put it on the counter before placing a careful hand on your hip and leaning down to kiss you. The warm whisky taste of vanilla and honey mingled with the chocolate from your dessert and Roy realised that no, he hadn’t been tortured before, watching you teach a bunch of kids how to dance wasn’t the way he was going to go. This was. Right here in his kitchen with your arms winding around his neck and bringing him as close as you could possibly get him. Your fingers scratching through his hair. He pressed you into the counter, 

“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time,” he whispered, kissing down your neck, making you gasp. He pulled away quickly, worried that it was too much too soon, “Shit, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He went to move further back to give you space but your hands gripped his shirt to pull him back in,

“Please, I don’t want to stop,” you breathed heavily, “I don’t want you to stop.” You said, more firmly. He was against you again in an instant,

“Sure?” He asked, “You’re sure?” You stepped up to kiss him, making your feelings very clear,

“I’m sure.” Your fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first couple. He pulled you away from the counter, strong arms wrapped around your back and lifted you enough to move you both to the sofa. You stumbled against the cushions, falling backwards and pulling him with you so that he landed heavily on top of you.

"Oof."

“Fuck, sorry. You ok?” He sits back up on his knees, allowing you to automatically move your legs to either side of his and sit up,

“Never better,” his smile catches you off guard, “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You mumble, reaching for him. The feeling is more than mutual. He needs to feel your kiss again, desperate to feel your skin on his. It’s better than anything he’d spent the last 8 weeks dreaming of. And the sounds you made as his hands and kisses explored your body were enough to drive him insane. He moves further down your body, pulling your skirt down with him and immediately turns to trail kisses and little bites along your inner thigh while his hand reaches up to link fingers with yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his breath hot against your hip. The simple request alone made your body turn to liquid against him. He’d spent so long thinking about (denying, debating, ignoring) the effect you had on him, he hadn’t actually considered that you would be just as affected by him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he looked y’know, alright , for an older bloke. But still, seeing it first hand… seeing it first hand, hearing it first hand, from you was really something else entirely. You tugged his hand to bring up back up to you but he shook his head, his beard catching the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, “busy,” he said, his voice muffled. He focused on nothing but you, losing himself in each gasp, moan and clutch of your hand still holding his. He worked you through one bone-shaking orgasm without stopping, leaving you a shuddering mess as he went straight for another. Looking up at you, he could see the hand that wasn’t clinging onto him had covered your eyes. This time when you squeezed his hand, he made his way back up your body and settled between your legs. “You ok?” he asked, leaving soft kisses on your jaw before finally capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss. You didn’t speak, just shook your head. “You taste fucking incredible.” He kissed you again and you whimpered, finally moving your hand away from your eyes.

“I’ve got a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, moving back to your neck, a hand slipping behind you to unclip your bra.

“Yeah I thought you’d only want a one night thing but that’s impossible now.”

“It was fucking impossible anyway. One night is definitely not enough time.”

“Oh,” you whispered weakly. “Good. Please-, oh fuck,” he caught a nipple lightly between his teeth, “please don’t stop.” So he didn’t, and he never would again if it was up to him. When he’d been (much) younger, he fully grasped the importance and concept of consent. He was a professional footballer - it wasn’t just important, it was crucial. But as he’d gotten older, he finally realised just how much better saying, and hearing, the words made everything. Being able to ask, “may I?” and “I need to hear you say it” and waiting, waiting, waiting, for the breathy response had never left him so wrecked before. He pushed into you in long, slow strokes while you met him with each roll of your hips. When you hold his jaw tightly to bring his gaze to yours, he nearly falls apart but he's determined to get you there first and he knows you're so close. "You feel so good-," you whisper, "So good."

"Fuck, I need-"

"I know, I'm right with you." His name is on you lips as you come and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. When he joins you, he kisses you with such depth it's like you were made for him. You lay still together for a while as you catch your breath. He keeps his nose in the crook of your neck while his hand softly smooths across your ribs and the side of your breasts. Your legs no longer lock around him, you stretch out and enjoy the weight of his body covering you. 

"'M crushing you," he mumbles. His voice so low in your ear makes you shiver and despite you not being ready for another round quite so soon, your hips buck, "Fucking hell, give me a minute," he laughs.

"You're not crushing me, and I'm not ready yet either," you grin into his hairline and kiss his temple. 

"Hmm if you say so." He rocks against you, half hard again already, needing to hear the broken little moan that ghosts over his head. "Come on, I want you in a bed this time."

 

He wasn't happy when you had to tear yourself from his bed at 7am to go home. He wasn't happy when he picked Phoebe up at 8am. He wasn't happy in the drive thru Costa queue at 8.10am. He was happy at 8.20am when he finally got to hand you your coffee and see your smile as you stretched out on the floor of the dance studio. He was perfectly happy knowing that you'd be torturing his Saturday mornings for a while longer. 

 

FIN

[rougepancake]

Monophobia

FT. Kars; Afab! Reader

WELCOME TO THE MONSTER MASQUERADE

WARNINGS: Minors and ageless blogs dni. Sexually explicit content under cut. Corruption, implied loss of virginity (reader), vampire Kars, jealousy, Kars sort of steals you from Joseph. Not proofread.

SUMMARY: Joseph Joestar wanted to ask you to dance with him so badly, but someone beat him to it. He wanted to whisk you away into the night and tell you how much he loved you, but someone fucking beat him to it. And it was Lord Kars, of all people.

It had been quite a long time since you had attended a formal ball, and it showed. Everyone here knew everyone, except for you.

Actually, you did recognize a few faces, but you wanted nothing to do with them. Instead, your plan was to dance by yourself in a ballroom full of strangers. They meant nothing to you, and were just a symbol of your status amongst the people of your country.

With that thought in mind, you decided to set down your wine and head out onto the floor. Faces turned towards you, but their stares didn’t last long. They were simply too wrapped up in their own business to care about someone who was dancing alone.

You let your body move freely to the music, your eyes closed in a moment of pure ecstasy. This atmosphere was one unlike any other you had experienced, and you loved it. Your moves were perfectly timed with the music that was being played by the live orchestra, or at least they were. Someone grabbed your hand, throwing you off entirely as they brought you back towards them.

Hastily, you turned around to meet the gorgeously captivating eyes of a man who seemed all too familiar. He smiled arrogantly, and you could have sworn that you saw fangs, though it was probably just a trick of the light.

“Well hello there my darling.” His moves matched yours, and you couldn’t help but smile at how he adapted to your movements. “I have never met someone as inclined to dance as you, would you be interested in providing me with your name?” His voice was deep and confident, his aura being at least ten times stronger than every man in the room.

Something about him was off, but he was simply too beautiful of a creature to ignore.

“My name is of no importance, us dancing together is as much of an introduction as you need.” You spun gracefully at his whim, giggling softly as you did so. Though, you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being watched.

And you were.

Joseph Joestar has had his eyes on you since you first walked into the room, but he wasn’t able to bring himself to talk to you. You looked stunning in that getup, and it made his heart hurt to watch you dance with none other than Lord Kars.

He couldn’t help but glare at the two of you as Kars whisked you out of the room and off to who knows where. Why hadn’t he made a move? Maybe it’s because he didn’t expect you to actually show up…

It was his ball, after all.

“Where are you taking me, Lord Kars?” His name rolled off your tongue in a way that made you want to repeat it. Such a sound was beautiful in its own right, and it made you curious as to why.

Without a word, he pulled you into a random closet that was far away from the rest of the party. There was a look in his eyes that gave you chills. And as unsettling as it was, you didn’t have it in you to leave his side.

“You know not of what I am, only what I have allowed you to see…” He spoke in a low tone, as if prompting you to ask him what he was talking about. “Would you… like to see more..?”

You hesitate to nod, since you can’t help but feel like something bad is going to happen to you. Your giddiness fades away slowly, and as he flashes his inhuman fangs in the darkness, an overwhelming sense of dread washes over you.

“Y-You’re a…”

“Vampire. Aren’t I beautiful?” He smirked and leaned down, aiming for your neck with his fangs.

“Wait!” You push him back as far as you can. Your back is now quite literally against a wall, and your hands are on his chest. You may not be the strongest, but you’ve clearly caught him off guard.

And he’s pissed.

“What? Are you frightened?” There’s an audible change in his tone, like he’s trying to intimidate you. “Are you not used to seeing monsters?”

“N-No- it’s not that!” You manage to blurt out, still holding him back. “I just don’t want to die at the hands of a stranger-“

“Oh? Who said you were to die at my hand?”

He reached out and placed a hand underneath your chin, smirking at you in the dimly lit room. He dared not to push back against you, knowing that it would most certainly scare you off.

“Trust me my dear, fear is the last thing you’ll be feeling when I’m done ruining you.” Then, out of what seemed to be nowhere, he pulled you towards him and kissed you roughly. A feeling unlike any other spread throughout your body and you began to feel yourself leaning into his touch. There was something about him that made you want more than you should.

Though, there was just something about him that you couldn’t tear yourself away from.

The more he kissed you the more you realized you weren’t going to leave this room without experiencing his full beauty. He was going to tear your innocence away and replace it with a carnal desire that only he could quench.

He was going to ruin you.

[vodika-vibes]

Congratulations on the 500 followers hun! Can I please get a Ruby with one of the clone trooper assassins who accidentally falls in love with the female reader who was kind to him and flirted with him while he was disguised as a regular clone to scope out 79's for his first mission, (maybe he hasn't officially killed anyone yet, up to you!) but he ends up totally blindsided by her, they end up having a couple of drinks, dancing together, getting hot and heavy, groping, making out on the dancefloor before moving to either a dark corner of the bar or the alley behind the bar where they fuck, it's amazing and he's absolutely as smitten for her as she is for him and basically ends up defecting from the Empire for her and using his assassin skills so they can escape offworld together? I totally understand if this character is too obscure to write for; I've just been re-watching tbb and these gorgeously dangerous guys have got me feeling some kind of way.😩 Thank you either way. 💖

Worth It

Summary: While at a club with your best friend, you meet a man who changes everything.

Pairing: Clone Assassin x F!Reader

Word Count: 899

Warnings: Smutty, though it's not detailed

Prompt: Ruby - Passionate Love

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Okay, so. I've never watched TBB, so my knowledge on the Clone Assassins is non-existent. Anyway, I dealt with the difficulties of this by only referring to him as he, and by writing in the reader's pov. I hope this is close to what you wanted!

“Why?” You drape yourself across the table as you stare, balefully, at your best friend. “It’s soooo hot. Why are we at a club? With the more hot? And all of the people with all of their breathing, making it hotter?”

Your friend props her hands on your shoulders and you grimace when her skin sticks to yours uncomfortably, “Because. You need to get laid.”

“Stop touching me. I think I’m melting into goo.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“You’re dramatic.” You snip back, sitting back up and grimacing again at the leather of the booth you’re sitting it sticks to your skin as well, “This is awful-”

“I swear to,” She rolls her eyes and then twists, and you can hear the sound of the leather pulling away from her skin, “Um…oh! Go dance with him!”

You tilt your head away from the ceiling to look at her, “Him? Him who?”

“Him!” She gestures to a man standing near the wall, nursing, what looks like, a glass of ice water. “Tall, dark, and broody over there.”

You consider it for about 5 seconds, and then tilt your head back, “Hard pass. I’m going to stay here and melt into a puddle of miserable goo. Thanks though.”

She rolls her eyes loudly, and stands. She tugs you out of the booth and drags you through the throng of people, and then shoves you at the aforementioned man.

He looks slightly startled to have you shoved at him, but not half as startled as you are to be shoved in the first place. “Here, she’s your problem now.”

Now that you’re closer to him, you have to admit that your friend has good taste in potential partners for you. The man is gorgeous. With dark eyes and dark skin and, frankly, incredibly kissable lips. 

“Uh…hi?” You greet sheepishly, one of his hands is settled comfortably at the bare skin of your waist, and while it’s still miserably hot, you find that you don’t mind his touch. 

“Hi.” He replies as he sets his glass down on the table next to him, there’s a small smirk playing on his lips, “So, you’re my problem now?”

You shrug one shoulder, a teasing smile playing on your lips, “Most men like the kind of problems I bring.”

“Is that right?” He hasn’t taken his gaze off your face, “Let’s put that to the test shall we?” He nudges you towards the dance floor, and you know that if you took your gaze off of him for a moment, your friend would be so smug, but you don’t want to look away from him.

He’s…mesmerizing.

He tugs you close, one hand settling low against the small of your back, while his free hand wanders up your side and across your upper back and into your hair, before sliding back down. 

Normally, you hate dancing in clubs. Your dance partners have, in the past, been very bad about letting other men rub up against you. But that doesn’t happen with him, he seems to have a sixth sense about when people are getting too close to you.

It’s nice, having only him touching you.

And it’s either that, or the way that he’s looking at you, or the pleasant buzz from the fruity drink you finished earlier, or maybe the heat of the night-

But you can’t help from raising up on your toes and pressing your lips against his.

He kisses you back like his life depends on it, and his hands burn a path up your sides, across the swell of your breasts, and then back down to tightly grip your ass. His hands are everywhere, and you can’t help but release a needy groan against his lips and grinding against him.

For a moment, just a moment, he falters against you, but before you can ask if something is wrong, he’s ushering you out of the club and into the, slightly less, stuffy heat of the night.

He pins you against the wall just down a darkened alley, his lips never once leaving yours, his tongue sliding against your own. And when his hands slide under your top, calloused fingers caressing and tracing, your head falls back and you release a moan.

“I need you,” He gasps against your throat, “Can I have you? Please?”

You laugh breathlessly and slide your fingers up his neck and into his hair, “I wouldn’t have let you bring me out here otherwise.”

He groans against your throat, and his deft hands start tugging at your shorts, unfastening the button and sliding them just far enough down your legs that he’s able to slide his fingers against your slit. 

Your hands curl into fists in his hair, and you release a shuddering groan, and his fingers pause, his dark gaze locked on your face.

“W-why are you stopping?” You whine, trying to arch against him.

He leans in so that his lips are pressed against your ear, “I’m defecting from the empire.” You freeze, your hands tightening in his hair, “Come with me.”

It’s a plea. Or a bargain. 

And you bury your face in his neck as his fingers start moving again. You have friends here. Family. A good job.

But-

Heh. And that ‘but’ is really the big thing, isn’t it?

He pushes you closer and closer to your orgasm, and your arms tighten around him, “Okay.”

[phandompenny]

1990 Phantom Fic Recs

Since the lovely @wheel-of-fish's stream of the 1990 TV production of POTO, I have been unable to stop thinking about Cherik and know there are countless others who likely feel the same.

Perhaps the only thing more tragic than the ending is the fact that there's so few 1990 fics! And among those tagged many of them take some character inspiration but don't really use the unique premise and setup and characters provided in the Y/K miniseries. So I've decided to compile this list of a few of my favourites! Enjoy!

what i would best like to see by queeenciri

A much gentler and happier picnic unmasking, where Christine reacts a little differently! I love the character work in this fic; the thoughts and emotions of the characters feel so real, and it really breaks down their motivations.

Together We Dream by Anonymous

This one is brand new and I'm in love with the prose and writing style of it! An extra conversation between Erik and Christine, one that could fit into canon or be a turning point. Christine reflects on some similarities between them, and it leads to this emotional conversation with angst and joy entwined gorgeously.

How Deep the Bullet Lies by oprhan__account

This is more of a hurt/comfort and whump fic, where Erik survives the ending of the miniseries. It's mainly him processing the events of the show and musing on what comes next, and does have a ending that is pointing towards things improving! Currently listed as chapter 1/? , but it's still worth reading as a fantastic exploration of an intriguing concept.

Sunflowers by CottagecoreCandlelight

Incredibly fluffy E/C, where Christine gifts Erik some sunflowers. Filled with the adorable shyness and sweetness that this couple has, and I'm in love with the visual image of 1990 Erik and his bouquet of sunflowers. They suit him very well!

Understatement by BrendaDaaeDestler

Erik takes Christine on their first date together! Fluff including a candlelit dinner and slow dancing. This is an AU where Gerard is willing to set up such a date, but the main focus is the budding romance between Erik and Christine.

A Magical World by pippa-writes

This is actually a collection of four ficlets! They're mostly canon compliant, and range from Christmas fluff to Christine regretting the picnic unmasking. The first one is even a Phillipe centric look at Christine's grief post canon (unfortunately with the canon ending), which I find quite unique and fascinating.

Rêver by trace-of-rouge

Somewhat tragic and angsty one shot, this is Erik musing on the nature of dreams and his feelings for Christine. It's a very good short character study, and I really enjoy the insight into Erik's thoughts.

The Strange Case of Monsieur Belladova by NPennyworth

If I constantly reread my own story then I'm allowed to put it on my own phic rec list, and I am seriously quite proud of how this one turned out! I wanted to explore a happier AU where Erik gets to just work at the opera house; this is written from the perspective of the opera company as they debate whether to say anything about the mask, but it seems rude to point it out when nobody else has. Mostly humor and fluff, with background E/C.

[casualwriters]

Spoil warning ⚠️for the Invitation

Note- Just watch the invitation today! And omg it was amazing! I love the wives and Walter he so freaking adorable! Here some cuteness for this movie!

You were one of the youngest out of the wife's, when you came to the De'vill household, even if you knew nothing about the vampires and searching for a third wife, when you got here you were fascinated with the inside of the house, and the land scape of it all. You and Walt clicked and understood each other, even Viktoria found you interesting and not a threat, when you got called for the first dance with Walter and try to not make a complete fool of yourself.

The dramatic dinner stunned you but you didn't freak out, only because there was so much blood, but that was the only reason, but you let them have their feast and talk to Walter after that Lucy calmed you down, out of everyone and that was one of the reasons you wanted to stick around because you loved the woman, just as much as Walt.

When the three of them took you aside after the dramatic dinner, it was overwhelming but Viktoria help you snap out but not in a cruel way like she normally is with new wives after Walter said his goodbye as he was getting ready for the ceremony, oddly enough you were thrilled for the wedding, and to be protected and have a stable environment something you didn't have before London.

"oh, darling we are so thrilled to have you!" Victoria and the two of you went to the spa before the big ceremony to help calm your nerves because the two girls had been in the same shoes you were, only decades ago. All three of you got closer together now that there wasn't anything negative between you guys, after the spa, the ceremony was starting, Lucy did your hair all gorgeously for you and Viktoria did the makeup.

Everyone was over the moon seeing you walk down the aisle the eyes on you made you squeeze Walter's hand as he gave you a toothy warm smile, "it's all going to be okay, sweetheart" he purred to you. The vows and the ceremony were done in a blink we're delighted that you did not run away, from the manor causing more bloodshed than there should be.

Weeks went by since the ceremony causing your new life to start being normal, as normal as it could be with your new diet and all. Lucy was always there for you, and Viktoria was more like your guard dog when Walt wasn't around, it surprised many of the staff and the master how much she took a fondness for you. When someone made you upset, even when it was a minor thing they are food, she adored you and Walter knew. Being with the three of them always made you feel safe they never got jealous when you gave them kisses in front of each other or some nights they just crash with you after, a long night in the manor. Walter would be holding you from the left and Viktoria from the right, and cute Lucy is in the middle.

Walter was sensitive and stern with his wife, he wanted them to be safe, he was the same with you but gave you a little more respect, some nights he gets you books or small trinkets he knew you would love, or you and he go to the garden and picks flowers and of course put one behind the master ear and make flower crowns, for your wife's, you brought the three of them together always wanting there time as a group, trying to not leave anyone out.

You all love each other for pleasure and business, and anyone who came into that manor and has an issue there is more food to feed the rest. The first

[critter-genfic-events]

This week, we've got nineteen gen fics featuring your favorite purple tiefling! Whether that's Molly, Lucien, or Kingsley, they're covered here, under the cut. As ever, if you liked them, please leave them a comment or kudos!

it takes two by wastrelwoods (3023,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Beauregard Lionett & Mollymauk Tealeaf

Beau and Molly get trapped in a cave-in. Vitriolic bonding ensues.

Reccer says: This fic just absolutely encapsulates everything I love about Molly and Beau.

there’s a ghost in my lungs by QueenWithABeeThrone (289247, Teen) Warnings: Heavy Angst, implying/reference to brainwashing and torture, Hurt/Comfort, mind control aftermath. Pairings: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, Beauregard & Fjord & Jester& Nott & Mollymauk Tealeaf & Caleb Widogast & Yasha, Beauregard/Yasha, Fjord/Jester

it is a Mollymauk!Winter Soldier AU

Reccer says: I will never not recommend this fic

Carry It Until We Die by starkraving (64513,Teen) Warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst, temporary Character Death, Whump, canon, divergence Pairings: Mollymauk Tealeaf & The Mighty Nein

Mollymauk resurrection au. Molly comes back to yell at his Level 20 friends.

Reccer says: I liked it!

A Reversal of Fate by FeralScribe (40580, Teen) Warnings: Pairings: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Caleb Widogast

It is a role reversal between Molly and Caleb. So now Molly is the shy traumatized one and Caleb is the carnival amnesiac.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Hook, Line, Sinker by steelneena (5141, Teen) Warnings: Minor Character Death Pairings:

The Nein's arrival in Balenpost from Lucien's POV.

Reccer says: This fic has wonderful characterization, takes a crack theory and runs with it, and is just an al-together delicious read.

what the promised land would promise me by grayintogreen (3169, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

The Tombtakers' side of the intuit charge trap.

Reccer says: I liked it!

He Did the Goat Dance Very Well by Operafloozy (13529, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Five tales Kingsley hears about Lucien and Molly, and one time he tells his own.

Reccer says: I love a good Kingsley coming into his own story and coping with what other people say about his previous lives and how he takes that and runs with it. This is a more humorous take on that concept than most.

steady lodged between beast and god by Junkyard_Rose (6737, Mature) Warnings: general suicidal ideation Pairings:

Lucien survives the fall of Cognouza; Essek is left with custody.

Reccer says: A well-characterized "Lucien lives" fic that really gets into the trauma of surviving your swan song. Both Lucien and Essek are wonderfully written.

Autotomous, We by InsanitySilver (53978, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Years of high seas adventures pass, but for every ounce of freedom Kingsley Tealeaf gains, the nightmares grow in kind. With the help of the clerics, he sinks into his own mind to root out the source of the corruption, but, in that claustrophobic dream world, he finds unfortunate company—some more … palatable than others.

Reccer says: This fic has a wonderfully unique set piece, a lovely original backstory for Lucien, and vivid descriptions. It's an excellent tale of self-acceptance.

in the dream we are always posthumous by hanap (4219, Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Lucien & Kingsley Tealeaf & Mollymauk Tealeaf, The Mighty Nein & Kingsley Tealeaf

Kingsley reconciles with the people he was and the person he is now.

Reccer says: This is such a poignant exploration of identity through Kingsley and the Threeleafs. Gorgeously written and structured, it has stuck so vividly in my memory.

Crown of Cinderz by AkizaDragonBane (148365, Teen) Warnings: Slow Burn, Inspired by Tumblr, Alternate Universe, royal au, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Violence, Blood and Gore, Implied/Referenced Torture, Childhood Trauma, Attempted Murder, Attempted Kidnapping Pairings: Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, Ashton Greymoore/Mollymauk Tealeaf

Mysteriously appearing when Lucien Nonagon starts hunting his two brothers. It also happens Mollymauk is seeking refuge for him and his toddler brother. Coming to the throne of the most fearsome ruler in Wildmount. Will Caleb Widowgast take the risk and take them in is the real question?

Reccer says: I liked it!

Wine-Dark Sea by fruitzbat (161010, Mature) Warnings: This piece is pretty heavily focused on post-traumatic, post-apocalyptic and post-genocidal themes. Most of the POV characters are struggling with some form of PTSD. Pairings: Kingsley/Original Character, Fjord/Jester.

Kingsley has just freed himself from something extraordinarily traumatic and is trying to rebuild something after it -- the question is more *what*.

Reccer says: This is a sequel to another iconic Kingsley-centric fic that may have already made the list; unlike the first, this is slower in pace and focuses a lot more on the characterization. I love the way that, while it does have some focus on his relationship to a supporting character, it's entirely about exploring Kingsley (as a character)'s relationship to the notion of free choice. His character arc in this is really well done. The themes are quite heavy, but are explored very thoughtfully and with the weight that they deserve.

The Fathoms Below by Lady_King (6423, Teen) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Pairings: Fjord & Jester Lavorre & Kingsley Tealeaf

while shipping a priority item, the crew of the Nein Heroez attract some attention from the deep...

Reccer says: An extremely well-written fight scene and aftermath that feels like it could slot perfectly into canon.

It’ll Be Over Soon by NKMLN (27,898, Mature) Warnings: Pairings: Fjord/Jester, Fjord & King, Jester & King, Caduceus & King, King & Molly & Lucien

When a trip to check on Bwualli goes wrong, Kingsley finds himself marooned in the Shattered Teeth, far from the reach of the gods. World history ensues.

Reccer says: This fic is my baby. I worked really hard on writing a good horror fic, only to be informed that i had not written a horror fic and had, in fact, written a tragedy. I put a lot of love into this. I hope you enjoy.

looking glass by Anubis_2701 (26721, Mature) Warnings: Pairings: Lucien & Mollymauk Tealeaf, The Mighty Nein & Mollymauk Tealeaf, Cree & Lucien, Lucien & The Mighty Nein

Lucien and Molly are twins. with a different back story

Reccer says: I liked it!

The Fool and The Soldier by mare_astrorum (123354, Mature) Warnings: Pairings: The Mighty Nein & Mollymauk Tealeaf

Mollymauk Tealeaf survived the Mighty Nein's encounter with the Iron Shepherds on Glory Run Road, but a short time later, a spirit began hunting him, claiming that he stole his body. This Campaign 2 AU begins with Episode 26 and continues on from there.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Let Your Bloated Brain Balloon and Float Away by R_Black (5074, Teen) Warnings: Major Character Death Pairings: Lucien & Mollymauk Tealeaf

After Lucien dies for the second time, he gets to chat a bit with the special sliver of his soul that broke off after his first death.

Reccer says: I adored the descriptions and worldbuilding of this version of the afterlife, and both Lucien and Molly's characterizations felt true to form and uniquely distinct in the best way possible.

And then two recs each for these two fics!

the same twist in your heart as mine by hanap (6000,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Kingsley Tealeaf & Aldreda Tavelle Seriblo, Lucien & Aldreda Tavelle Seriblo, Kingsley Tealeaf & Essek Thelyss, Kingsley Tealeaf & Caleb Widogast, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast

In which Kingsley discovers that the last occupant of his body had a younger sister.

Reccer 1 says: I think the most compelling thing to come out of the Nine Eyes of Lucien was that Lucien had a sister living in Rexxentrum the entire time. I like this fic's characterization of Kingsley, and the soft and heartbreaking reunion. Reccer 2 says: One of the thoughts that loomed largest in my mind after finishing Nine Eyes was "What would happen if King learned about Aldreda?" and this fic is *such* an interesting, emotion-filled exploration of that. Things did not play out how I expected they would in the best of ways, which is all I'll say on that. Never enough Kingsley fic in the world and getting into his head and how he would handle things was so fascinating and enjoyable here. Also, Essek and Kingsley's friendship is to die for and an excellent side to this fic!

Crowned Teeth (Or, An Offering Revoked) by fruitzbat (130,570, Teen) Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence Pairings: Kingsley Tealeaf/Original Character

After a standard trip towards the Bay of Gifts goes horribly wrong, Kingsley finds himself trapped and vowing to himself to hold those responsible to the light -- betrayed, isolated, and far from home, Kingsley must carve out his own destiny and forge a legacy he can say is worthy of those who came before him.

Reccer 1 says: This fic is absolutely amazing on every level, taking a sentence worth of a setting and expanding it into a beautiful bunch of worldbuilding. The original characters are amazing, the lore is air-tight, and it reads very much like a canon novel I could pick up in a bookstore. There is romance towards the end, but I consider it more of a "story with kissing" as opposed to "kissing with story" and the relationships between King and his crew are all developed well. This is also the first fic in a trilogy and all of them are worth a read. Reccer 2 says: This has some of the best worldbuilding I’ve ever seen in a fic. The world of piracy and sailing Kingsley inhabits is painstakingly described and true to life, and the portrayal of Kingsley’s state of mind, his friends and his enemies here is on point. I highly recommend this whole series for anyone who likes to wonder what Kingsley’s time on the seas and eventual journey to become Plank King might have entailed.

If you liked this rec list, follow along for more! We'll be posting a new list with a new theme each Monday. Want to make your own recs? Check out the rules, and then use the form to submit!

Next week, we'll be reccing fic featuring any of the campaign's pets! This includes familiars, noncanonical pets, Trinket and any flame spirit monkey children that pop up from time to time.

If you're looking for some more, there's some good stuff in the critter genfic bingo tag! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[autumntouched]

Remember the Hangman and Phoenix competing for fem!reader fic? Welp, back with more…

@sylviebell @melodiousoblivionao3

I Can Take You Home

“Another drink?” Hangman offers, gesturing to your empty glass. You’ve been tucked into a corner of your friend’s wedding laughing with him longer than you realized. He’s looking a little smug to have monopolized your attention so easily, but you can’t resist a pair of green eyes and a cocky grin.

“You know offering a girl another drink you’re not paying for doesn’t say much,” you tell him to take back some of the upper hand.

His eyes spark with the challenge. “So what does it take to impress you? You’ve already got half the room swarming you for a dance.”

You smirk, a little proud of that. If he only knew you’re not usually the center of attention the way you’ve been here. Arching an eyebrow, you get to your feet. “Isn’t that for you to figure out? Are we getting those drinks?”

It’s the right thing to say to a man you’ve already figured out would be competitive about who ties their shoe faster. Smoothing your gown on the way to the bar gives you an excuse to draw his attention to the way it hugs your ass perfectly.

People have told you there’s something intriguing about your gaze. They can feel you looking at them. But you’re well aware sticking to the basics can be just as effective.

As soon as you’re clear of the narrow pathways between the tables and chairs, he lays claim to your waist. You don’t mind. You’ve scoped the room, and you’re happy hooking this fish.

You’re looking up at him to call out his hand on your hip when you spot her. You can feel her eyes following every curve of your body down to the peak of your toes from the hem of your gown as you walk.

And you’re distracted from whatever Hangman is saying. Because she’s breathtaking in a gown that floats elegantly around her and tantalizingly exposes just enough of the perfect, delicate globes of her breasts to make you crave more.

Your eyes travel back to hers, and she gives you a sweet half smile of acknowledgment. She’s caught you looking and wants to know what you think. You bite your lip.

“Everything okay down there?” Hangman breaks through your daze.

You’re still trying to pull your brain together when you notice her set down her empty glass and start to glide your way. There’s something commanding in the way she walks. The world’s royals could learn a thing or two from the way her presence slows everything around her.

“Hangman,” she says, just loud enough to call his attention without drawing other people’s. Her voice plays its way all the way down your spine in a shiver.

“Phoenix,” he says, the undercurrent of friendly sarcasm in his voice as hot as her name. Phoenix. That’s exactly what she looks like, a mythical creature called from the flames.

You only half realize that you step forward so his hand falls from your waist. She turns her full attention on you, and you feel your heart thrumming to the siren call of her dark eyes. “Is this your plus one?” Phoenix asks, though the tuck of amusement in the corners of her expressive lips say she already knows the answer to that.

“We just met,” spills out of your mouth before you realize the question wasn’t meant for you. But it seems to be all the answer she needs. Something mischievous unfolds in the creases of her face.

Hangman doesn’t seem to notice. “She’s a friend of the groom’s. We were on our way to get another drink.”

“They taste so good, don’t they?” Phoenix says. Her faintly glossed lips must taste so good.

“So good,” you agree dumbly. You nearly jump when Hangman’s hand slides around your waist again, and this time you’re self-conscious about it.

Phoenix’s eyes flick down to the motion then back to your face. “Sorry, didn’t mean to hold you up,” she says to Hangman. Then to you, “I love that dress on you.”

She daintily lifts her gorgeously expansive burgundy skirt with a small wave and floats away. You have to remind yourself not to follow her over your shoulder. “You know her?” you ask to keep your attention on Hangman.

“One of the Navy’s best pilots,” he says, “but she doesn’t need to know I think that.” You let him guide you to the bar, but your mind is on whispering that little secret into her ear as your mouth traces the soft curve of her jaw.

While Hangman orders your drinks, you scan the crowd for her. She’s on the dance floor, swaying to the music with her dark gaze trained on you. Your move her smile says.

Hangman touches your arm and slides the stem of your wine glass into your fingers. “Ready to hit the dance floor?” Many guys are intimidated by the prospect, but to his credit, he sounds eager. With Phoenix watching your lips and him watching your neck, you take your first sip of wine.

“Let’s show ‘em how it’s done,” you agree and take another sip for Phoenix’s benefit.

He’s a good dancer. Not only does he have rhythm, he spins you without ever losing track of which hand is holding your wine. He dances close, filling your nose with the delicious scent of his cologne. You can’t get enough of it. Your hips move in sync to a banger you danced to in middle school.

A chuckle interrupts. “There’s no prize for best dancers. You don’t have to show off so hard.” It’s Phoenix.

“Can’t help what comes naturally,” he smirks, but he reaches out to take your hip and draws you closer.

“You wouldn’t look half so good without me,” you counter with a laugh and turn in his loose hold so you’re facing Phoenix. “Are you coming over to show off too?”

Phoenix’s eyes dart above your head, and Hangman presses his chest to your back. His hand slides lower and tighter over your pelvis. It’s only then that you also realize he’s just an option and your other one might be standing right in front of you, an invitation in the lift of her lips.

A light of triumph flashes through her gaze, and she lifts her arms in the air and yeah, you immediately imagine her stretched out beneath you but without the narrow bands of fabric covering her chest. And that leads to your fingers flexing with the anticipation of loosening the tape holding the cloth in place and sliding her dress off her shoulder, watching it fall around her waist as her arms come out to circle your shoulders. The softness of your chests pressing together as your lips finally meet, her tongue as teasing as the lilt of her voice.

You turn to Hangman and hold up your drink. “Can you hold this for me? I have to go to the bathroom real quick.” Watching Phoenix, he takes your glass and presses a stomach-dropping kiss on the place where your ear meets your jaw.

“Don’t get lost,” he warns.

“I’ll try not to if you try not to forget about me while I’m gone.”

Reluctantly, he releases you. Phoenix raises an eyebrow.

“Bathroom,” you tell her.

“I’ll help you with your dress.”

You barely manage to keep your pace even as you feel her follow you out.

[thefatedthoughtofyou]

Sweet Music Playing In The Dark (Be Still, My Foolish Heart) [ Part Three ]

[ Part 1 ] [ Part 2 ]

A little bit of Buckingham backstory in this little au.

They met in highschool. Were an oddball set of friends. And they graduated and Chrissy moved away. But by chance, both of them ending up in the music scene.

Robin was always releasing weird random differently styled songs. Always keeping her fans on their toes. She's still a polyglot so she likes to write and and sing songs in the languages she learns too. Sometimes the whole song, sometimes just parts but she likes throwing it in there. Always puts translations in her little album covers.

Chrissy is more poppy. She likes catchy beats and fun music videos. She writes her own stuff and has a beautiful breathy singing voice. Is always covered in glitter. And is always in pastels. Robin is mostly in punky goth vibes.

They bump into each other at some award show afterparty and just... fall in love. And then they form a band. And that's that. Their fans go crazy when they announce it.

They both keep their respective vibes. Call their band Cottoncandy Poison. And they sell out their first tour in a week.

Steve and Eddie are both so proud of them. They're like their opposites in their pairings and they fell in love. Eddie and Steve were in the wedding. Steve was Robin's best man, in a beautiful deep orange velvet tux. Eddie was Chrissy's maid of honor, he worn a very cute pastel dress that she picked out for him. His tattoos clashing gorgeously with it.

The girls so so happy to have their boys with them. And then their boys become friends and they love it. Are secretly rooting for them to get together, even before the break ups. They'd never admit that. Bad karma and all that.

But the boys are friends now, and they're single, but they've been dancing around each other. Eddie had told Chrissy he was giving Steve time to heal his broken heart. Chrissy told him he could help Steve heal it faster. He'd just blushed and shaken his head.

But anyway, Eddie and Steve both like visiting their girls in their studio. They never plan their visits together but they do end up being there together a lot. Just shooting the shit.

Eddie comes in one day, Robin's singing in a language he doesn't know. He just raises his hand, waving through the window. Both girls wave back. Robin cuts the track. Eddie pushes the button so they can talk.

"Hey Buckster! And... Ham...ster? Not sure about that." He mutters, Chrissy perks up though, laughing.

"No i love it! Hamsters are so cute!"

"Alright then. Hamster it is! What was that track. Sounded spooky." He wiggles his eyebrows. Robin perks up then, snaps her fingers at him and beckons him into the room.

"What's up?" He asks as soon as he's next to her. She plops a pair of headphones onto his head. Tells him to listen. Tell her what it's missing.

She goes through it again. Sings back through. Eddie loves it. Doesn't understand the words, but the vibe and the sound of it gives him goosebumps. When she's done she looks at him as they take their headphones off. Eddie's about to tell her that he loves it when she says,

"Can you teach me how to scream?" And Eddie just smiles, tells her it would be his pleasure.

So he does. Talks her through it. Lets her touch his throat when he screams a few things so she can feel what he's doing. He doesn't want her to fuck up her vocal cords like he'd done when he first started out. She learns fast. Doesn't go too hard. Just kinda of growls a few words. And Eddie is stoked and proud of her.

She's growling things in russian, Eddie and Chrissy both smiling and nodding along as she does another take. Chrissy toning in with a cool breathy whisper type thing. Them singing together and meshing vocals always giving him chills.

And then Steve walks in, like three hours later and Robin yells,

"Steeevvveee!!! Eddie taught me how to scream, listen listen listen!!" And she goes through it again. Eddie still nodding, his nose crinkling as she screams, feeling it in his chest. He can see Steve beaming through the glass, his head nodding as well. When she stops, Steve pushes the button and says,

"Robs that was wicked!"

And she says she knows. And then promptly asks Eddie to do a verse for the song since he helped her get it right. He isn't sure. But all three of them convince him too. So she writes a translation for him. He does his verse in english.

And it's the coolest song. Steve watches them reord and it, smiling the whole time. His eyes crinkling all cute. He gives Eddie an adorable double thumbs up through the glass when they finish it and Eddie feels his heart flutter. Steve's smile softens a little and his cheeks tint pink as he finally looks away.

They all stay at Robin and Chrissy's that night, Steve and Eddie making the girls dinner, dancing around each other in the kitchen as the girls sit in the other room, snickering. And plotting. And planning.

They will get these boys together. No matter what it takes.

[k-zu]

ガイア : power outage ft. kaeya modern au for yae publishing house event

"please, have mercy on me." you let out a sob when the dark-haired guy in front of you hits you with yet another +2 card, his smirk making the humiliation of losing a two-people game of uno even worse.

"oh? but i'm having so much fun, and we only just started the second round. you're tired of losing already?" he tilted his head to appear baffled, the permanently printed smirk on his face ruining his whole theatrics. of course, he would like to go around making fun of you just for the hell of it. it's like he feeds from your reactions, he eats them up for breakfast, lunch and dinner and always tries to get even more of them. "besides, you've insisted so much on playing with me these last few days. don't tell me you're giving up so easily, darling."

"you're always so mean to me. what have i ever done to you?" you pouted while giving it a last try to counterstrike his attacks but soon realizing your whole fifteen (15!!!) cards were useless, he put down a blue. the only colour you didn't have.

you cursed under your breath and picked up as many cards as necessary to continue your turn, it all felt like life had smiled at you one last time when your vision caught on the colour of the card you were just picking up though. the characteristic colour of a special card with white details lining a beautiful, gorgeously made +4 card. you decided to save it, with an uncontrollable wicked smile forming on your face that made him shiver.

picking up your next, you couldn't help the malicious giggle slipping from your lips rather loudly. oh, you thought you might've found out the significance of life right there at the moment a second +4 card found its way to your hand.

kaeya could see the gears turning in your head, calculating your next move with a newfound motive, your sinister expression made him move uncomfortably in his position. if you started rubbing your hands together in delight at your evil plan he wouldn't have been surprised.

"now. what's so amusing about your never-ending hand of cards?" he asked, a single drop of sweat running down his forehead. meanwhile you let out small giggles like a maniac.

"patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish." you quote in the middle of throwing your arm up in the air, his unknown demise dancing on your fingertips. you felt a rush of confidence run through your body like the blood in your veins, you were too worked up for an uno game but your game buddy appreciated the enthusiasm nonetheless.

you would savour that moment of pure and blissful fulfillment when watching your opponent fall into a disaster of your creation again if you could, watch those pretty white jewels adorning his sly stunning smile that would be replaced with the face of stupefaction in the most satisfactory way possible. and you were just about to see every second of it.

until you weren't.

darkness covered the room and it took a while for your eyes to get accustomed to the change of lighting, your one-way ticket to success fell out of your hands onto the table with no spectator to witness your triumph, thus the game was over. everything fell silent.

it wouldn't last long though for kaeya let out the biggest laugh you've ever heard coming from him in all your months being roommates. you plopped yourself down to your spot on the floor, defeated, and watched your companion cry of happiness at your misery.

"you're adorable, really. patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles perish." he kept on stupidly giggling for another five minutes after that, you were nothing short of annoyed.

not just that you lost so ridiculously, but the moonlight slipped through your window so perfectly that it smacked kaeya on his good side, if he was aware of that fact you would never hear the end of it. you made sure he never knew it coming directly out of your mouth, but sometimes the way you would stare at him told him more than what he needed to hear. the ridiculous crush you've had on him ever since you guys moved in together was painfully obvious.

"alright, alright. let's clean the floor up, shall we?" you tried reasoning with him while getting up and picking up some of what was left of your dignity with you. "help me find some candles too, handsome"

with that, kaeya finally stopped laughing his ass off and pretended to wipe a non-existent tear off under his eye. "aw, you're making me blush! and here i thought i was the charming one." he tried to contain himself back from letting stray giggles out "it appears you can still be lovely after losing both a game and your dignity."

the innocent sweet smile he gave you while saying that made your chest feel all weird, was it the lack of good lighting that made it seem like his eyes had stars in them?

"stop trying to be cute."

"what do you mean trying? i am cute."

"you definitely are lying to yourself."

"well you literally called me handsome just a second ago."

"i think you're delusional-"

next thing kaeya knows, a loud thud and an "ouch" were heard, indicating you got so distracted by your bickering with him that you walked onto a wall. once again, you could almost see his shining bright smile in the darkness of your shared apartment and you couldn't even get mad at someone as pretty as him. instead, you chose to lazily push him away from you causing him to crash into a doorframe.

"what is wrong with you?" kaeya huffed out a laugh albeit porting pain in his features, he caressed his arm.

"i can't see, genius." sarcastically, you moved before him and entered the kitchen. when your face was concealed from his view you finally let yourself smile.

"i believe it was actually intentional on your part." you heard his footsteps behind you, each step taken would increase your heartbeat to the point that you had to put your hand on your chest. still, you tried your best to look for a candle, directing yourself by your other senses. were did you put them last time?

undoubtedly, there was something about being alone with kaeya in the dark night with the moon as the only witness that'd make your head feel dizzy and your hands go numb. god, how could someone be so mesmerising? you're not even mad about losing the uno game to him anymore, you'd let him win everytime as long as you can see him unabashedly smile like that again: eyes crinkling, cheeks flushed, messy hair brushing his face, soft hearty laugh and the absolute light in his eyes that would follow your movements after laughing too hard.

you found the candle and lit it up, just to see kaeya inches away from your face. "you do know we have our phone's flashlights, right?" is what he said, barely above a whisper. his gaze seemed to be fixated on something on your face, or maybe just on you. you let out a nervous laugh trying to brush it off, but he saw right through you, or more like right at you, directly in your eyes.

"again, i believe that was also intentional on your part." he lifted his hand to your cheek and caressed it oh so tenderly as if fearing you might break. you felt your breath shudder and embarrassingly stared at your roommate's lips, his smile growing bigger by the second while your mind clouded in a fog of thoughts about how much you wanted to kiss him, just to feel what is like to have his soft-looking plump lips on yours. "it makes this even more romantic, don't you think?"

yet as he got closer and closer all you could do was melt in the hands that held you so gently. you hoped for more dark nights loosing uno games if this was the result of them every time.

a/n: notice how i got uninspired near the end, it all comes down to the curse, ended up hating it ;-; but it's finally done, i'm free.

[thegengarprincess]

~*•^.+>Bojere week day 2 is upon us N only now realised I didn’t post anything so I locked the door of my enclosure N then this happened :33<+.^•*~

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(Bojere! long-distance relationship moodboard cuz this personal flavour of angst makes me cry but I love pain :,DD) from today’s prompt I’d say Jere’s fave parts 2 worship when it comes 2 Bojan would be his thighs (of f4n course cuz he’s literally a midget with perfectly sculpted thighs),chest N his very *very* fluffy hair! weither he’s the one kissing his gorgeous boyfriends gorgeous inner thighs or using his tounge 2 ravish them during a particularly steamy night after they’ve both done a huge gig,hell even just *seeing* Bojan in shorts (or preferably short shorts if it was up 2 him) makes him sweat a little harder N run 2 his bedroom a little faster so he can indulge his fantasies which his Bojci only fuels more with every photo he posts with his thighs on display,even if their 2000km away but that won’t stop him from thinking of what *he* could do 2 those perfectly moulded pieces of flesh he adores so so much N the man they belong 2.Chest wise,Bojan’s tits may not be as big as his own *but* he still loves them just as much,especiallyyy when he gets 2 tease his nipples N suck on them till their glistening with spit N redder than his dick.Jere N Bojan have *always* had a thing 4 ruffling the latters hair ever since they met that night in Madrid when their Eurovision season was just gearing up,before his *soul-crushing* loss against Loreen,before Joker Out finished in the bottom five yet that didn’t hurt *nearly* as much as the sound of Jere sobbing into his chest when they got 2 his hotel room after the *storm* of interviewers N the press,N before they even *dared* 2 touch what they felt 4 eachother N put a label on it which they’ve kept up every day since the two finally quit dancing around eachother 4 what felt like *centuries* N let themselves be together no matter the distance or what the rest of the world thought about them as not only a couple but as people,artists,*celebrities*.Tbh Bojan’s favourite part of Jere would be all of him but if he *had* 2 choose then it’d be a threeway tie between tummy,arms N face,kissing his adorable lil angel of a boyfriends *extremely* pretty face till he’s giggling like a child just so he can see his nose scrunch up?? amazing!,worshiping N lavishing his beautiful tummy with loving touches,licks,sucks when he’s feeling that tad bit insecure cuz of shitty comments on instagram?? wonderful!!,feeling up his gorgeously soft yet strong muscles in his arms when he feels himself getting jealous or possessive,only 2 see Jere,his Jerč smiling the way he loves with his canines showing N instantly turn all his attention 2 him since he can also sense the smell of jealousy radiating off him that little bit?? *intoxicating*..

[denimbex1986]

'Doctor Who has long been known for its chaotic camp energy and nothing encapsulates this better than the musical numbers scattered throughout the iconic BBC sci-fi series.

Returning showrunner Russell T Davies certainly seems to love ensure that a banging soundtrack accompanies the hit British TV favourite: That was made clear early on in the season one reboot when “Toxic” by Britney Spears and Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love” played as “traditional Earth ballads” while the planet burned in “The End of the World”, set in the year five billion.

In recent years the show has had a particular penchant for including needle drops, dance breaks and powerhouse musical scenes for its characters, especially the villains. At this point, it’s amazing that there hasn’t been a dedicated musical episode as some sci-fi fantasy shows such as Buffy the Vampire Slayer – have famously done.

In a recent interview, Davies explained why he loved giving his Doctor Who antagonists a spectacular musical number as they enact their evil plans.

“In all great pop music, there’s a savagery to it… It’s like in the middle of a song, people are being slaughtered. It’s pure Doctor Who, isn’t it?” he said during the episode commentary for “The Giggle”, the third of three 60th anniversary specials.

“I’m always using pop music like that. There’s a darkness in there somewhere. The relentlessness, that’s the word. There’s a ruthlessness to pop music.”...

5. ‘My Angel Put the Devil in Me’ from ‘Daleks in Manhattan’ (2007)

We feel bad putting the only musical number not performed by one of The Doctor’s enemies at the bottom of this list, but it falls just short in the face of some truly stellar – and villainous – competition.

We also apologise because Tallulah Francis’ dazzling cabaret performance of “My Angel Put the Devil in Me” is a standout moment from the season three episode “Daleks in Manhattan”.

The glittering outfits, the sultry (and gorgeously synchronised) choreography and dreamy encapsulation of 1930s New York all blend together to make this a performance to remember.

Kind-hearted, devilishly smart and supremely talented on stage, is there anything Tallulah “Three ‘l’s and an ‘H'” Francis, played by Miranda Raison, can’t do? We think not. Well, aside from topping this ranking, of course.

2. ‘Spice Up Your Life’ from ‘The Giggle’ (2023)

Placing Neil Patrick Harris’ musical number as The Toymaker in “The Giggle” as runner-up was not an easy choice given that his performance is truly spectacular, high-camp and unnerving in equal measures.

The Toymaker was lip-syncing for his (and everyone in the building’s) life as he went on a tyrannical rampage while dancing to 90s classic “Spice Up Your Life” by the Spice Girls, dressed in a classic toy soldier’s uniform. A murderous musical number for the ages.

1. ‘I Can’t Decide’ from ‘Last of the Time Lords’ (2007)

A controversial pick for the win, but just forcing its way to victory is John Simm’s inspired performance to Scissor Sisters hit “I Can’t Decide” in the season four finale “Last of the Time Lords”.

Put simply, “I Can’t Decide” walked so “Spice Up Your Life” could run, and we would be nowhere without it. The song perfectly captures Simm’s maniacal take on The Master opposite David Tennant’s (aged-up) 10th Doctor.

He’s a Teletubbies lover, king of needle drops (who can forget the moment he blasted Rogue Traders’ “Voodoo Child” while the Earth is being ravaged), and the true embodiment of a crazed villain.

It’s camp and crazy, and, tragically, many Whovians have been criminally deprived of the full scene over the years after it was left out of certain streaming versions. Some may think it is dispensable, but we certainly don’t. This is a John Simm stan page only.'

[thingummies-and-whatsits]

Lewis Fic Recs: Magic and Myths

Atmospheric stories that blur the line between reality and legend, and show just how determined Robbie and James are to keep each other safe. This list is far from exhaustive! Please feel free to add your own favs!

Burned Like One Burning Flame Together by lesyeuxverts

1,000 Words, Pre-James&/Robbie, Rated G, No Archive Warnings Apply Through his mirror, James watches time pass in the world beyond, unable to reach through—until the bells of Oxford ring out and he sees a man waiting beside a bridge. Gorgeously dreamlike, with elements from the Lady of Shalott.

I Am a Man Upon the Land by ComplicatedLight

2,063 Words, James/Robbie, Rated T, No Archive Warnings Apply Selkie AU. A beautiful, lyrical piece about what it means to find a home-away-from-home with another person. The ever-present call of the sea is just so rich and vivid.

Draugur by greenapricot

2,460 Words, James/Robbie, Rated T, No Archive Warnings Apply Utterly haunting and atmospheric. James and Robbie break down on a cliff overlooking the sea as a flock of ghostly, phosphorescent dragon birds fly high above. While entranced by the draugur's dance, Robbie gradually starts to think that something seems off with James.

Temptation by perclexed

2,869 Words, James/Robbie, Rated T, No Archive Warnings Apply James and Robbie interview a suspect one golden autumn afternoon, and take a bite from the apple of temptation in the serpent's orchard. Languidly sensual, and on the more explicit side of the T rating.

Tell it To My Heart by paperscribe

3,101 Words, James/Robbie, Rated T, No Archive Warnings Apply Fate takes direct action post "you need a partner" by giving James and Robbie one day within their greatest wish. Their conflicting memories of the past heighten the tension between the sense of belonging and the knowledge that their time there is limited.

Orpheus Ascending by paperscribe

1,1816 Words, James&/Robbie, Rated T, Major Character Death Wandering through Oxford's deserted streets after James' death, Robbie finds himself at the Randolph and gains a chance to keep the promise that he would not look back. The bond between Robbie and James is achingly solid against a blurring and changing reality.

Dance the Macabray by Elphen

5,026 Words, James/Robbie, Rated T, No Archive Warnings Apply A sweetly domestic scene of James and Robbie reading a bedtime story to their granddaughter post-retirement/resignation takes a chilling turn when Death pays Robbie's dreams a visit.

By the Morning Star by Jackie Thomas

4,609 Words, James/Robbie, Not Rated, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings: Suicide (case), Illness & Possible Major Character Death A powerful story of loss, missed opportunities, and the depths to which a person will go to rescue the one they love dearest. Another fic where reality and the flow of time blur and distort, the scene at Robbie's hospital bed is just heartbreaking.

St Michael at the North Gate by icarus_chained

4,373 Words, James/Robbie, Rated M, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings: Homophobia, Religious Fanaticism, Possible Major Character Death Beautifully heartbreaking, James is poisoned by a purification potion designed to rid the victim of their sins through fire and suffering. Robbie knows there's only one chance of saving James from being destroyed by his own guilt.

The Bells of Oxford by MistressKat

2,703 Words, Pre-James/Robbie, Rated G, No Archive Warnings Apply In another Oxford, Robbie and James ring the city bells—and ring life into its people. This fic does an incredible amount of subtle world-building in relatively few words, and Robbie and James feel very familiar despite their changed surroundings.

[alightinthelantern]

film reviews: War and Peace (1966-7)

In the 1960s Mosfilm adapted Leo Tolstoy’s sweeping epic novel War and Peace into a four-part feature film series, directed by Sergei Bondarchuk and released throughout 1966-67. The films together comprise roughly seven hours of screentime, allowing the gargantuan novel time to unfold in full without being condensed or rushed (much). As Soviet films are, at least those that get known in the West, frequently of high cinematic and storytelling quality, I had high hopes for this film series, and I was not disappointed. The films are gorgeously shot, like a symphony of sight and sound, as all of them have at least one musical number, and several classical music pastiches in the soundtrack, which adds an entertaining dramatic element to this tale about human beings. The production values are immense, with the films costing 60-70 million USD in today’s money to produce, and featuring thousands of extras in the military scenes. The Russian government financed the films, and the Russian military lent over ten thousand personnel for the battle scenes and hundreds of horses, and the films are great spectacle, yet also intelligent and philosophically deep, which is a very rare combination in cinema.

I have not read the original novel, so I don’t know how closely the films follow the plot, but the films are critically well-regarded and I believe they are mostly faithful to the novel, although certain sections were excised or condensed. The dialogue is always intelligent, and often poetic and philosophical, in Soviet cinema tradition, which is wonderfully intellectually stimulating, and I enjoyed it immensely. In one scene in the second film, the character Natasha Rostov is pining for her fiancee, who hasn’t visited her in a while, and she muses to herself “If only he would come soon, I’m afraid he never will! The worst of it is I’m growing old. I’ll lose my charm. Perhaps he’ll come today, this very minute! Perhaps he came yesterday, and I’ve simply forgotten.” War and Peace is great cinema, grand cinema of the highest degree, and I heartily recommend watching it.

The four films are on YouTube in full for free, on the Mosfilm official YouTube channel, which has dozens of Soviet films available for watching. War and Peace, Part One War and Peace, Part Two War and Peace, Part Three War and Peace, Part Four

Plot overviews of the four films beneath the cut:

Part One covers 1805, and introduces the main characters of the story, including Pierre, a feckless but goodhearted man and illegitimate son of a count who unexpectedly inherits his father’s fortune after he disowns his legitimate sons. Pierre is friends with Prince Andrei Volkonsky, a nobleman who acts as mentor and philosophical sparring partner, who departs Russia to fight in the Napoleonic wars, leaving his pregnant young wife in the care of his own father. After Pierre becomes rich and thus socially desirable, he is encouraged to marry a beautiful woman named Helene Kuragin by mutual acquaintances, but they are ill-matched and Helene grows bored and becomes unfaithful to him, becoming lovers with a man named Dolokhov, whom Pierre later challenges to a duel, and wounds but does not kill, after being publicly humiliated by him at a party. Also introduced is Natasha, an intelligent, playful child and daughter of the noble Rostov family, who enjoys a charmed family life full of music and dancing.

Part Two covers 1807-1812, and concerns the emotional maturation of Natasha Rostov, who is proposed to by Andrei Volkonsky when she is 15 after they dance at a ball. Volkonsky realizes she is too young to become a wife and insists they wait a year before marrying and not make the engagement public, leaving her socially free to back out of the engagement if she later changes her mind about him, knowing that she still has some maturing to do. Volkonsky tells Natasha that, if she ever finds herself in need, to turn to his friend Pierre for help, who is a goodhearted man. Natasha feels abandoned, and later falls in love with Helene Kuragin’s brother, who seduces her at a party and tries to elope with her, despite already being married to another. Pierre appears little in this film.

Part Three centers on the Battle of Borodino, a prelude to the burning of Moscow during the Napoleonic War of 1812. 100,000 Russians meet 100,000 French on the battlefield, resulting in carnage and heavy losses on both sides. The French won the battle but it was Pyrrhic victory, and the film claims that the Russians won a moral victory over the battle. The film is an hour and twenty minutes of nonstop battle scenes, but it’s quickly paced and doesn’t drag in the least. I’m not interested in war films but I remained interested throughout the film and watched without boredom.

Part 4 concerns the burning of Moscow and its aftermath. Volkonsky is among the wounded soldiers evacuated from Moscow, and ends up in the Rostovs’ carriage by coincidence, leading to an emotional reunion between Andrei and Natasha. After witnessing the destruction of Moscow, Pierre tries to get an audience with Napoleon to assassinate him but is arrested and nearly executed, but instead becomes a prisoner for months during the French retreat through Russia, and braves the winter in peasant’s clothes, before finally being rescued by Russian partisans. The French army, defeated by starvation and disease, abandons its campaign against Russia and retreats, with soldiers dropping like flies on the long march through the winter. A band of bedraggled French soldiers happens upon a contingent of Russian soldiers, who take pity and feed the French, who gratefully teach them the French royalist tune Vivre Henri VI in repayment. This fourth film drags toward the end, and offers a bleak end for several of the characters, but offers a neat ending to the story, although I feel it’s the weakest of the four films.