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toxicanonymity · 11 months

Note

Thank you for all those fics babygirl, especially the Joel ones <3 would you ever consider writing Vampire! Joel x female reader where you're in his basement chained to the wall and he does disgusting things to you to a certain extent.. Thank you honey💗

the special one.

VAMPIRE JOEL MASTERLIST

3.5k, vampire!Joel Miller x f!reader / masterlist WARNINGS: I8+ big girthy age gap (Joel 400+ / Reader 20s-50s), dark fluff, Alcohol, drugging, kidnapping, chain/restraints, blood sucking, period cunnilingus (dubcon via captivity), jacking off, reader can menstruate. Toxic softdark.

You met him late one night when you were leaving a café. Your friends left first and went the opposite direction. It was a dimly lit coffee house and bar. All night, Joel was sitting in a round leather chair near the window wearing thick-framed glasses and an unseasonably cozy, dark brown cardigan with a standing collar. He was reading a book and drinking a dark beer in a tall, narrow glass. You had your eye on him and couldn’t help but admire the way his biceps looked so huge in his cardigan, and the sexy silver patches on the sides of his beard, and his perfect nose, complimented by his glasses. He caught you looking a few times, but he never made it awkward.

As you started heading toward the exit, he stood up, closed his book, and walked out the door. He held it open for you. “Hey,” he said softly. He held his book under his arm with its spine facing you: Powers of Darkness. He shyly dropped his head and looked up at you from under his brow, gazing over his glasses. It gave you a good view of his beautiful mess of hair - mostly dark, with a flourish of salt and pepper. He turned his head toward the street as he introduced himself. “I’m Joel.”

Joel offered to walk you to your car, and you accepted since it was so dark and you had your eye on him. He wasn’t as shy once you started walking side by side. His voice was deep but soft and soothing. Smooth. He flirted with you, asking what you were drinking, complimenting your choice of colorful puma sneakers with your black dress. He said there was something about your energy. He was disarming and didn’t come off as creepy. As you walked through an alley together, you were admiring his hair, entranced by the beautiful glints of silver in the moonlight, when a huge rat scurried in front of you and into a drain. You jumped and squealed.

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay,” he chuckled and calmed you down with his hands on your shoulders.

He kept gently rubbing your bare shoulders after you calmed down. He gazed at you through his glasses with a glint of affection and your breath hitched. He leaned in for a kiss that melted your mouth. When he broke away after a few seconds, his eyes were dark with lust. He backed you into the brick wall - not aggressively, but certainly not meekly. Quietly confident. He pressed his lips and hips into yours and a bulge in his black, soft-brushed khakis hardened against your dress, making you weak in the knees. No tongue, but he sucked your saliva into him and his lips felt like heaven.

He pulled back and looked down and away. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t be,” you said. “That was nice.” He made eye contact with you, and you felt a rush of warmth.

“Good,” he mumbled, but he didn’t take it further at that point.

—-

When you got to your car, he kissed you again, then hugged you, and you felt his arousal against you, even harder, making you throb. “You smell special,” he said, his voice deep and soft above your ear. Then he dragged his lips down and kissed your neck lightly three times before he opened his mouth, his wet inner lips hitting your skin, making goosebumps prickle at the back of your neck. He moaned into your skin as he sucked and you felt like you could have taken him against your car in that moment.

He stopped and mumbled into your neck, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Your tone was sultry. “Really, don’t be.” His breath stayed on your neck, warm and humid.

“Only gonna take a little.”

“What?”

His massive hand covered your mouth, and before you could try to scream, his teeth penetrated your neck. It was deep and sudden, seizing your body with a paralyzing chill as you shrieked, whimpered, and gasped for air under his hand. He pulled his head back after a few seconds and your blood trickled out one side of his mouth. His eyes were dark. He tilted his head at you, his collar brushing his jaw as he tongued the front of a sharp little fang to get the last of your blood. You thought you were dreaming.

He shyly dropped his head again. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

You were speechless.

“It was only a little,” he reassured you. “You should be fine.” There was a hint of shame in his face as his eyes faded back to normal behind his glasses. “God, you sure are beautiful,” he gushed through half-lidded eyes.

You were more flattered than you should have been.

He leaned in for another kiss but you flinched and he stopped. “Yeah,” he shrank back. “Sorry.”

He walked backwards for a few steps, shoving his hands into his sweater. Then he turned around and disappeared into the night, the long cardigan trailing behind him. You felt a little lightheaded and stayed leaning against your car, silently in shock, until you felt okay to drive. The lightheadedness faded quickly.

The next couple of weeks were normal, but you thought about it every day. If it weren’t for the puncture wounds and bruising on your neck, you would have thought you were going crazy. Maybe you were - when you thought about the experience, you felt more aroused than afraid.

—-

When you initially woke up captive a few weeks later, the last thing you remembered was Joel emerging in the same alley as you walked to your car alone after leaving the same cafe. Your breath hitched at the silhouette of his standing collar and messy hair. You froze as his big arms wrapped around you from the side. He manhandled you into submission as he put a damp rag over your mouth.

“Shhhh,” he said. “Not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart.”

When you woke up, your neck was sore and you were in the corner of a dark, half-unfinished basement, lying on a cold, coated concrete floor. You were chained by your ankle with a brutally cold, metal cuff that rubbed on your skin every time you moved. The chain was too heavy. You were so weak from blood loss that even getting up to go to the toilet was a struggle. Despite the toilet being in range of the chain, it could take you thirty minutes to crawl over to it, taking multiple breaks to rest.

The first time Joel came down to give you a meal, he saw you crawling toward the restroom. “Oh god,” he whispered with a genuine hint of horror in his voice. “C’mere, I got ya.” He helped you into the bathroom. It didn’t have a door. He helped you onto the toilet then stood in the door frame and looked away. When you were finished, he helped you back to where you were lying against the wall. He stood there with his feet spread and looked at you for a few seconds, one arm crossed in front of him with his other hand stroking one side of his beard. His brows knitted with concern, and his eyes were watery.

He left you your meal and came back an hour later with an old mattress covered by a fitted sheet with a faded pattern of Scandinavian tulips.

“Thank you,” you told him, sincerely grateful for the relative comfort. You were too frozen and afraid to ask for anything else yet.

As soon as he left, you peeled back the fitted sheet to get inside and sleep. It was cozy like a hug for a second before it popped off the mattress, but the loose sheet was still better than nothing.

—-

You didn’t cause any trouble. Joel brought you iron-rich meals to help replenish your blood. In his eyes, it was an unfortunate situation for both of you, the fact that he needed you. He couldn’t help it that there was something special about your blood. It gave him a rush he’d never had before while feeding, and he lasted longer on yours than anyone else’s. He felt much better, too. You should have felt good about what you were doing - helping him survive with less blood. That meant hurting fewer people.

—-

You examined where the chain met the concrete. It didn’t look very old. On the other hand, there was an area of crumbled concrete on the floor, as though someone had tried to dig out of jail with a spoon at some point. You picked off small chunks of rock and used them to count the days you were down there.

On the sixth day, you were sitting on the mattress against the wall with the sheet over your legs when Joel came down. “Your days are here,” he said. You were confused at first. He took off his shoes and joined you on the mattress, folding his knees behind him and leaning on one hand, facing you from the side. He was very close, less than a foot away. He slowly tugged the sheet off your legs and the chain caught his eye. He whispered, “sorry,” and got on his knees to get the key out of his pocket. “I’m here,” he said reassuringly to himself as he unlocked it then pocketed the key again.

He moved the chain out of the way and got closer to you again. He sat back on his knees. He took a deep breath, looking you over, then began to say, “If I take it from here. . .” He put his hand on your lower abdomen. “I can go a little longer. . . Before we have to, uh.” He reached up and caressed your neck, before dropping his hand back to your lower abdomen. “If you’re okay with it,” he whispered, and caressed you there over your dress, making you tingle between the legs.

“I don’t have it yet, my period."

“It’s there,” he nodded earnestly. “It’s opening, getting ready to pour itself.” It was the strangest way of talking about the cervix. He waited for you to accept what he was saying. He looked at you with puppy dog eyes. “Can I have it?”

You studied his face. He looked pale and the color of his lips was faded. Even his muscles looked somewhat deflated. You felt bad for him.

“How do I give it to you when it’s not coming out yet?”

His cheeks flushed with some color as his eyes fell between your legs where you were holding your dress down for modesty.

“Oh,” you whispered.

“I can make it feel good,” he promised.

“Oh, uh, oh, okay.”

—-

He sat up and took off his cardigan. You couldn’t be sure if it was the same one as before, but it had the same style of standing collar. It was dark brown with tiny flecks of lighter thread, possibly in different pastel colors if your eyes didn’t deceive you. The basement was dim, and the most light it got was during sunset when the rays hit the tiny windows just right. It was almost a glare. There was no clock and sunset could be any minute, but until then, it was dark.

Joel folded his glasses and put them on top of the sweater. He was wearing a tight, tan, short-sleeve, soft-wash t-shirt. His pecs stretched the front of it. He moved you into position, flat on your back. “Try to relax, sweetheart.”

Your knees were up and he was between your legs. He reached under your dress and gently pulled down your panties. His eyes were black and shiny and he breathed heavier. He gently pushed your dress all the way up and out of the way. His biceps flexed as he hooked his hands under your knees and over your thighs. He took a deep breath through his nose, closing his eyes.

He kissed each of your inner thighs, then just above your clit. You flinched in pleasure rather than fear, but he mumbled, “sorry.” He looked up at you, and his silver beard glistened in the bright light of the setting sun through the high, horizontal window in the back corner. “Are you okay?” he asked.

He pivoted you on the mattress to get out of the light. You got up on your elbows and nodded, “yeah.” You hated to think it, but you were more than okay. When his lips touched your skin, it started to feel like a real win-win.

“I’m just gonna,” he whispered, then brought his hands to between your legs. He spread your outer lips and saw how wet you were. “Oh,” he whispered. His tone became sexy. “You are okay.” He looked up at you darkly, with the hint of a smirk on one side. “Ok, good,” he murmured to your dripping cunt.

He licked a flat, wide stripe up your entire seam then suckled on your clit, looking up at you. He took his mouth away to say “lay back, relax.” So you did. He got you warmed up, licking, sucking, and flicking his tongue. You moaned softly.

“Gorgeous down here, too,” he said before digging in again. “God, you taste special.”

He plunged his tongue into your entrance, careful to avoid nicking you with his fangs. They were curved into his mouth, which helped them not catch. His massive hands dug into your thighs as he thrust his tongue into you. “Mmm,” he moaned. He licked every crevasse of your folds and suckled at your clit again, then nudged your clit with his nose as he again penetrated you with his tongue. He tongued into you, then deliberately nosed your clit, tickling you with his smooth, soft facial hair. You felt the suction of his nostrils against you - a strange feeling, but not at all bad.

He pulled away and caught his breath. “It’s so close,” he said. “Almost taste it.” He dipped his head again and planted a kiss on your clit. “Think you can come? It might help.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just like that, more tongue.”

“Perfect,” he whispered between your legs.

He licked and sucked at you, then fucked you with his tongue. You moaned as you got closer and closer. He reached a hand up to your breast and you sighed. He thrust his tongue into you harder, and your hips lifted into his mouth. “Mmmm, yeah,” he murmured while taking a breath. He thumbed your clit as he sharpened his tongue and plunged it back into you.

“Ohh,” you sighed, “gonna come.”

He kept doing what he was doing, then he planted his mouth on your entrance and steadied your hips with his hands as your spine arched and you saw stars. Your hips lifted into his mouth, and he held your thighs where they met your hips, keeping his mouth firmly planted around your seam at an angle, sealing it as much as possible. As you rode your waves of pleasure, he put his tongue inside you and you clenched around it. He thrust it into you, then withdrew his tongue and sucked harder than you could have imagined as your climax persisted. He sucked and licked and sucked, and finally he groaned, “mmmm,” into your cunt.

He became more ravenous and you could tell he was getting what he was after. He alternated sucking and lapping and when he came up for air, you saw it on his lips. Color was already returning to his face.

“Taste so special, baby,” he sighed, then dug back in. His nose nudged your clit as he sucked and moaned into you, and another climax was already building. You sighed “ohh, Joel.”

“Yeah,” he panted, and put his thumb back on your clit. “Come for me, baby.” He thrust his tongue into you rhythmically, scraping out any blood he could reach, then surfacing to breathe. “Fuck,” he panted into you inner thigh. “Taste so good.” He was ravenous. He sucked and used his tongue in a way you never dreamed. Soon, you heard your moan echo off the walls as you started coming into his mouth again and he sucked full force. You finished coming, and he kept sucking. Tears sprang into your eyes with the overstimulation.

He plunged his tongue into you and swirled it around, raking for residual blood. You began to cramp and reached for your abdomen “Oww,” you whimpered.

His brow furrowed as he looked up at you with the silver in his beard and mustache tinged red. “Oh no,” he said and massaged you through a few more cramps, then they died down.

You sat up on your elbows and watched as he licked you clean of all the stray blood. He twisted his hips off the mattress and it was impossible to ignore the protrusion in his pants. When he finished cleaning you with his mouth, he sat up on his knees and thanked you. He discreetly palmed his arousal. When your eyes followed his hand, he kept it there, the heel of his palm digging into his engorged package. His face flushed. “This doesn’t always hap-.” He cut himself off, shaking his head at the rudeness of referring to his other experiences. “I mean, you’re really special. You feel really good.” He palmed himself again. “‘Excuse me for a minute.”

—-

Joel unbuttoned and unzipped his pants on his way to the restroom. You heard him spit in his hand. He breathed heavily and moaned as he fucked his fist and spit every once in a while. His sounds of pleasure made your core buzz for more. “Ohh,” he moaned as his fist slid along his shaft. “Fuck,” he panted. Your nipples hardened again and you reached for a breast. You squeezed your thighs together. You wondered if he’d fuck you, but tried to suppress the thought. You felt moisture between your legs.

He spit again. “Oh, fuck,” he panted as his breath became ragged. You dipped a finger into yourself and looked at it - no blood, just arousal. He sucked you clean and you wondered if your period was over before it began. “Ohh, god,” he sighed, and the sound of skin sped up. He breathed louder, then groaned as he came. When he was finished, he sighed, “Ohhh,” in relief. Then the water turned on for a minute.

—-

When he emerged from the restroom, his facial hair was mostly clean. He paused in the door frame. “Sorry about that,” he said and looked down and away. “I can already feel it, sweetheart.” You could see it, too.

veins had returned to his hands and his muscles looked pumped compared to before. He looked alive, vibrant, even sexier than before.

He put his glasses on, and got back between your legs then sat back on his heels. He cupped your cheek, and looked deep into your eyes. “Never felt like this before,” he lamented. “Never in all these years.” Your heart raced at the realization that he could be hundreds of years old. No wonder he was good.

He looked regretful. “Hate it for ya, sweetheart. But it’s our destiny.”

“What is?”

“You’re my One.”

“What,” you whispered to yourself.

“We’re a pair,” he whispered and looked at you affectionately. “You complete me.”

You were disturbed by his delusions, and even more disturbed by the way your heart swelled at his words.

He remained between your legs and put his hands down on the mattress on either side of your torso, scooting toward you. He tried to kiss you, but you sucked your lips into your mouth then turned your head.

He sat back and looked wounded.

You were incredulous. “My purpose is to complete you?”

“And mine is to take care of you,” he said and caressed your thigh.

You were crushed at this world view. A small, self-sabotaging part of you had to wonder if he was capable of change. You scolded yourself for expecting more from a man who attacked you in an alley, kidnapped you, and was holding you prisoner in his basement. You allowed a moment of silence to pass, during which he curled up and laid his head on your lower tummy. He looked up at you lovingly. That's what he wants? To take care of you?

“You’re not doing a good job,” you whispered and watched his face fall.

He looked like he could cry. You suppressed your satisfaction. He got up on his knees and looked around. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Gimme a minute.”

He stood up and put on his cardigan. He jogged upstairs, sweater flowing behind him, and came back with a warm washcloth, a blanket, some Advil, and water. That felt like a decent start - the bar was truly in hell.

“Wanna take good care of ya,” he said as he cleaned his saliva from between your legs. He looked up with desperate eyes and said, “Teach me.”

—-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging! I see there being one more part to this, can't say when.

If you like vampires: I have vampire!Michael Myers one-shot here: Michael’s Castle. Also, @atinylittlepain already had a great vampire!Joel drabble here: little pinch and has a vampire!cowboy AU now!

FYI: You can follow @toxicfics to turn on notifications, @toxicrecs for my fic recs.

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dark!joel miller #pedro pascal characters #vampire!joel miller #toxicanonymity ☠️#vampire!Joel☠️#tw dubcon #joel jacks off #PPCU jacks off #PPCU jacks off ☠️#someone jacks off #content label

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rosemaze-reveries · 4 months

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ANY DM CRUMBS OUT THERE... 🫴

basil wasil im yuor biggest fan............

⚠️ a little suggestive

D.M. is an avid fan of billiards. As a highly skilled player, he has high expectations for his partners. But whether you're experienced or not, he's fond of inviting you to an evening of pool every once in a while. Privileges of being his lover <3

He loosens up a lot during his games with you. It's less about competition and more about enjoying his time with you. He gets a little carried away adding "extra rules" to each round, making penalties much more personal & intimate (take this as you will).

Almost always, these nights end with your cues discarded on the floor & one of you pinned over the table 🙈 No losers here.

If you've never played pool before, he'd definitely be eager to teach you ... he does that thing where he stands flush behind you, arm parallel to yours as he guides your aim.

He knows how to turn anyone into putty in his hands. As someone who's been dancing with high society all his life, he's perfected his disarming smile & pretty words. It takes little effort to ease people into giving him information.

But his mind tends to wander around you, leading him to open up about himself more often than he would like. You're just a comfortable presence for him.

Still, he's too stubborn to fully lay his heart out for you. He has a habit of slipping out little comments about his love for you, only to backtrack & pretend he was just teasing you 🙄 At first he might've been slick about it, but you've gotten good at recognizing when he tries to cover up his heart.

If you call him out on it, he'll say something like "When have I ever done anything to suggest I might not consider you mine?" <- still teasing

On the other hand, he gets jealous very easily, even when the cause isn't obvious. He'll refuse to talk about it and just bitterly retreat to his room. According to his butler, he's always been prone to these little tantrums.

Despite the gentlemanly front he wears in public, he really doesn't care about honor. He's more selfish with you, waiting for you to come comfort him.

#identity v #idv imagines #idv x reader #identity v x reader #desire melodis #desire melodis x reader #dm x reader #dm x you #joseph desaulniers #idv photographer #joseph desaulniers x you #joseph desaulniers x reader

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guzhufuren · 1 year

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Favourite VegasPete Fics pt.2 (pt.1) (in alphabetical order)

1. Black Velvet by @kerrikins https://archiveofourown.org/series/3158706

Vegas notices Pete watching him during the torture scene. Intrigued and more tempted than he expected to be, he stalks Pete and succeeds in taunting him into coming with Vegas so they can fuck.

It starts off as a cat and mouse game for sex, but when the two of them are finally forced to reckon with the fact that they're on opposite sides, they both find themselves more conflicted and drawn to each other than ever.

2. cause and effect by @sapphicblight https://archiveofourown.org/series/3234285

“Don’t you have better things to do with your time? Other virgins for example,” Pete asks him one time over a guerrilla warfare style lunch date. “Not until next semester,” Vegas laments. “I’ve already exhausted our current student body.” Pete doesn’t even know where to begin unpacking everything wrong with that statement.

Or: the college au in which Vegas is a manwhore with a weird innocence kink and Pete is an inexperienced painslut.

3. Drowning, and other Metaphors https://archiveofourown.org/works/44171761

Vegas has never experienced an afterglow that burns like an oil fire, a sudden and dangerous thing that he can’t quite remember how best to put out past the panic. It doesn’t help that Pete’s smile is like a torrent of cool water on his feverish skin, making the flames jump higher. It makes Vegas want to do something dangerous that he’s never really been good at before – it makes him want to take care of Pete. Problem is, he doesn’t really know how.

4. Holy Palmer's Kiss https://archiveofourown.org/works/41273907

"By the way," says Vegas in English. "Interesting scars you’ve got on your chest." Pete doesn’t tense – he doesn’t – but the leveled manner his gaze slides back up must be enough of a tell because Vegas… "What ? Don’t tell me you thought it wouldn’t come up."

The begining of episode 11 but Vegas zeroes in on Pete's top surgery scars instead of his hip tattoo.

5. i want to wear his initial on a chain round my neck by @dage-mingjue & @stratumgermanitivum https://archiveofourown.org/series/3352987

Pete picks up the chain leash and offers it to Vegas. “So, you never did tell me what you were getting this for.” Vegas takes the chain from Pete’s hands and fixes a dark and sultry look on him. “This? Oh, it’s for bad boys who misbehave.” And with that he gives one last smirk before walking out the front door, leaving Pete an absolute mess behind the counter. *** “Pete,” Porsche says, in a very slow voice, like Pete is a particularly small child. “He was hitting on you.” Pete blinks. “He what now?” — Or; Vegas adopts a puppy.

6. Sharing Different Heartbeats by @raelle-writing https://archiveofourown.org/works/40549581

Of course Vegas noticed Pete. But not with much weight. Sure, Pete was hot. But so were all of the rest of Kinn’s bodyguards. That wasn’t notable. It wasn’t worth more than a passing once-over, or an absent glance at the man’s ass in those suits they insisted on wearing. He had a nice ass, but it didn’t stick in Vegas’ mind. It was passing lust, nothing more. And he certainly wasn’t hotter than the other bodyguards– not Porsche, for example. The only thing notable about Pete was that he had a surprisingly soft, cute face, and a sunny, disarming smile. He looked far too soft for his job. But he was Tankhun’s head bodyguard, and one of the men that Kinn often tapped for important missions. Which meant that the cute, soft face was hiding real talent and skill. So yes, Vegas noticed Pete. But it didn’t mean anything.

OR: a retelling of the story from Vegas' POV, from first impressions until after the hospital.

7. The King Must Die https://archiveofourown.org/works/41144892

“It’s fine,” Macau assures Vegas, whose very soul feels plunged into turmoil. Tear-bright eyes, a faint handprint on his sheltered face, and Macau tries to comfort Vegas. “It’s fine, I promise.” Vegas would kill for his brother, indiscriminately. He’s just now realising quite what that means.

(The queer experience of having an ill-advised one night stand with your cousin's head bodyguard and then ending up in hiding with him while you plot to kill your father.)

8. The Last Thing Left to Break by @blackwatervial https://archiveofourown.org/works/41053809

Hatred ran deep between the Theerapanyakul and the Saengtham family. It was common knowledge that the two leaders, Khun Vegas and Khun Pete, despised each other and used every small excuse to initiate yet another bloody conflict. Only that no one was really aware what happened behind closed doors…

9. the mortifying ordeal of falling in love by @dage-mingjue https://archiveofourown.org/works/41659146

“If I had to rate you?” Pete pauses and tilts his head with a low hum, considering. “I dunno, a six out of ten? I thought you were a sadist, but you didn’t really give that impression. Are you actually kinky? That didn’t feel kinky. It didn’t do it for me.” Vegas looks like someone punched him. Hard. His cock is still out and his hair is rumpled and he looks devastatingly disheveled, like Pete was the one who just took Vegas apart and not the other way around. “I’d worry that it was just a fluke,” Pete continues, ignoring Vegas’s flabbergasted sputters, “but I also don’t think I’d give you a second time to prove me wrong.” Pete shrugs and fixes his shirt, petting back his hair. “Anyway, see you around.” — Or a fic in which Vegas fucks through all of Kinn’s bodyguards and lands on Pete, but Pete uno reverses it on Vegas leaving Vegas wanting so much more. Vegas gets humiliated and has to work for it.

#kinnporsche #vegaspete #vegaspete fic recs #kinnporsche fic recs #kpedit #fic recs #recs #fics #mygifs #mine #userboots #taggingmarion #usertph #kinnporschesource #dailyvegaspete #thank you ficwriters for saving my life i adore these so much #i actually have more fav works already and they will go in the next list

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brunossan · 4 months

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RWBY JAUNE WITCH HUNTER AU

Part 3: Jaune and The Girls

*in the Last Episode, Jaune Arc discovered that Witches have a way to find their mates by seeing a certain light in someone's eyes. Now, this Witch Hunter apprentice is The mate of 4 Witches: Ruby Rose, Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna and Weiss Schnee.*

*Now, The Narrator is gonna let Jaune tell How he is right now. After all, in The time of this AU, one week has passed.*

Jaune: Hum... I am supposed to read something?

*no, Jaune. Just Tell me, How this week has been.*

Jaune: Oh! Its... Been great. Im living pretty well actually.

*So They are treating you well?*

Jaune: I mean... In their own way. *Blushes.*

*If you do not feel ashamed, Tell me. How They are with you?*

Jaune: Can i Tell in Order? *The Narrator nods* Ok. I Will start with Ruby. She is gentle, kind and Very cute. And she loves weapons. Like, a lot!

flashback on

Ruby: Here, right here. *She shows her scythe to Jaune, focusing on The Blade* You see? Its getting blind.

Jaune: Blind?

Ruby: It means The Blade is getting Weaker. But with my Magic, i can revigorate It. *she uses her wand and The Blade is shining like New* See? Good as New!

Jaune: That's Very cool!

Flashback off

Jaune: And that night i discovered that It also affects organic things.

flashback on

Jaune: *panting, no clothes on bed* Ruby... Please... No more... Its been 6 times already... The others are gonna get angry...

Ruby: *on top of him, with a grinning Smile* Well, I was the one to bring you here. And I convinced Yang that you would Last The entire night in my First time so...

*she Takes her wand and touches The tip of his Dick with It. Without any further Warning, The massive dong rises again, Ruby smiling in a pervert way, while Jaune looks terrified.*

Ruby: Get ready for more 4 rounds of riding.

Flashback off

Jaune: Yeah... Ruby can be cute and kind. But in bed... I must pray to survive her lusy.

*And The other girls?*

Jaune: Oh, yeah. Well, Blake is like a cat. She is serious, acts like Nothing matters but... She has a Very cute and needy Side too.

Flashback on

Jaune: Is that... Cat ears?

Blake: Yep. *Reading an erotic book, sitting by his Side in The couch* I use to hide them in a bow, as Its a way Witch Hunters finds either Witches like me or Familiars.

*Jaune looks at her cat ears, an urge growing Inside of him. Blake notices his looks, grabbing its hand and putting it in her Head.*

Blake: Listen. If you ever Tell anyone that i like being petted, i Will turn you into a Frog And dissecate you. Got It?

Jaune: ... I got It.

Blake: Good. Now you can pet me.

*Jaune moves his Hand in Blake's Head, patting her. The Black haired girl then lets a small and cute purr, while clinging in The Blonde one*

Blake: You know, you have a good talent with hands.

Jaune: I was the best at polishing armors and giving massages in The academy.

Blake: Massages? *She lays in his lap, letting her back visible to him, smiling in a smug way* The girls Will take her time to Go back, so How about you give me a special massage?~

*Jaune gulps, as he looks at her back and butt. He looks around, trying to see If They are truly alone. Suddenly, his neck is pulled by a Black cat tail, making him get on top of Blake's back, his crotch near her butt. She smiles as she feels his bulge grows beetween her buttcheeks*

Blake: Oh, so you are Anxious for that~

Flashback off

Jaune: Blake is The boldest of them all. And likes to take risks. Different of Weiss. Weiss is... A princess. She is Very bossy and its on Command of everything. But there's The thing. She... Knows How to motivate everyone.

Flashback on.

*Jaune is swordfighting with Weiss in The forest, The girl overpowering him with its Rapier. Suddenly, with a fast cut, Weiss disarmed him, slicing its rusty armor in half. Jaune drops his Sword, putting his hand up*

Jaune: I surrender.

Weiss: Good. *she makes her Sword disappear* Its Very rare for a Witch Hunter to surrender.

Jaune: Im not totally a Witch Hunter, you know.

Weiss: Yes That's why i Said It, dolt. *she cleans her hands*. You need to improve If you wanna have a chance against me. Or anyone.

Jaune: I got it... *He turns around, going towards The house.*

Weiss: Where are you going?

Jaune: Im tired. I wanna rest. *he bumps into an Ice wall* ouch!

Weiss: You are not tired. I can Sense it. Come here and Tell me what's wrong.

Jaune: Im saying im Fine! Its not enough?

*Weiss opens its arms, Jaune dont understanding any of this. Suddenly, an Ice Pillar pushes him towards her, The girl embracing The taller One in a gentle hug.*

Jaune: W-weiss what are you doing? *He asks as he blushes, his Head in her chest*

Weiss: People used to treat you harsh, right? And your calming mechanism... Was hiding. Lying that you are tired Just for staying alone... *She touches his hair, stroking it.* And crying.

Jaune: I dont cry. Im Fine.

Weiss: Jaune... *She pulls him down, making him knee* You know that a week has passed and The light didnt faded away, right?

Jaune: ... Yeah.

Weiss: So dont be afraid of crying on my shoulder when you want to. Ok? You are my mate, our mate. And... I wont think you are weak If you show me your feelings.*

*Jaune Arc stopped resisting The hug and started letting himself be embraced by Weiss arms, all while sunking its Head in her shoulders and, in silence, letting The tears flow. Weiss stroked his hair, while thinking that Maybe They werent so different after all.*

Flashback off

Jaune: I like that she is The Ice Witch but gives me The warmest hugs. Even in bed. Her favourite position is anyone where she can hold in me. In my opinion, i think she is The most clingy.

*I see that your Relationship with them has improved. But i have a question for you. And Yang? You still didnt talked about her.*

Jaune: Oh. Yang. Of course. Well... She is... Difficult. Very difficult. I dont think she likes me much. In fact we still didnt did... Anything. *Sigh* I still think she wants to Crush me.

*I as The Narrator knows everything. However, i cant Tell you much. All i can Tell to you its to be patient. Because you still need to Dig deeper Into her Heart.*

Jaune: Can you give me some advice?

*Unfortunally, only on next episode. Also, If someone wants to know something more about this séries, The Askbox and The comments are always open. See you later.*

*To be Continued...*

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butchrobin · 10 months

Text

"don't move" || spidermike au oneshot

based on @drangues super cool au, specifically this post regarding wheeler sibling angst <3

~~~

All things considered, it had started as a pretty good day.

Not necessarily normal, no, things hadn’t been normal for Mike ever since he’d got bit by that spider that had granted him his powers. Now it seemed everyday was a new challenge to overcome, or more specifically, more bad guys he had to take care of. Just an ordinary day for Spider-Man, really. In the short year he’d been in the mask too much had happened for him to comprehend, part of him was still struggling to accept that he was different - though, truthfully, he had always been rather different to start with.

The spider bite had changed a lot of things, but not everything. He wasn’t sure how many changes he could handle, the stability of his life was already long gone, a new less stable routine had taken place. One he wasn't sure how he felt about just yet, but was used to nonetheless.

So that’s where Mike found himself, webbing up the last unconscious criminal to the wall for the police to find and take away. There had only been a few, four muggers who had attempted to rob a man only a couple of years older than Mike himself. It was something Mike found he’d come to view as part of his new routine, he’d patrol often whenever he had the time to spare, which happened to be mostly at night. Student life be damned, he thought. So he found the night to be, well, normal he supposed. He’d stick around and make sure until the cops arrived and the thugs were in custody before resuming patrol.

But then his spider sense, a buzzing feeling all around his body alerted him to danger behind him just as his ears picked up the sound of a gun being loaded. He swiveled round, body tense as he prepared to web up any thug he’d missed, assuming they must have called for backup. But nothing could have prepared him for who was holding the gun, he lowered his hand, the lenses of his mask conveying his shock and growing wide as he gaped, horrified.

Because it was Nancy. His older sister Nancy. And she was holding him at gunpoint, her knuckles pale with how tightly she was gripping the pistol, which she had aimed right at the spider symbol on his chest.

“Don’t move.” Nancy snarled. Mike couldn’t even if he tried, or wanted to. His body had seized up entirely. He couldn’t breathe either, his breaths caught in his throat as he stared.

“Wait-” Mike blurted, but Nancy silenced him by taking a deliberate step closer, the gun clasped firmly in her hands.

“Don’t even try it.” Nancy hissed darkly, her eyes flashed coldly, holding an icy glare Mike didn’t know she was capable of. “It’s about time you answered for what you did.”

“I-”

“Everyone thinks you’re a hero. But you’re not, I know what you are and I’m going to show them.” Nancy went on, her voice never wavering. “You’re a murderer.”

Mike exhaled shakily, not moving an inch as he eyed the gun warily. Right, that brought him back to the complications with being Spider-Man. The complication being that his sister hated his web-crawling persona, ever since the untimely death of her best friend, someone Mike had known well with all the time she’d spent at their house.

Barbara. The thought brought back a string of painful memories, followed by immense guilt. Nancy had blamed him and sought to avenge Barb, she’d grown bitter and resented him for it and it seemed the hate she felt for Spider-Man that had taken root since had never quite let her go.

Now she was here, gun in her hands and ready to shoot. And Mike? Part of him that felt the most guilt for what happened to Barb wanted to let her.

The spider part of his psyche however screamed at him to do something. To disarm her, run away and to not look back. But the other part, the part who had always looked up to his sister with nothing but admiration all his life, could only remain fixed in place, stiff as a board and speechless as she seethed.

“I won’t shoot you, if I don’t have to.” Nancy spoke again, her voice hard. “You’re going to stay here until the police arrive and then you’re going to hand yourself over to them.” She paused, thinking for a moment. “But if you try to leave, I will do it. I have a good enough reason to and I know how to use this.”

Mike didn’t doubt that. He would’ve laughed if he weren’t so goddamn terrified right now, he knew how skilled Nancy was with an assortment of guns, Hopper - the Chief of HCPD had taught her himself.

Mike finally found his voice again. “Please just let me-” in doing so, he finally seemed to snap out of his frozen trance, moving forward slightly but retreating just as quickly when Nancy jabbed the gun forward in his direction. His sense was buzzing worse now, but it was confused, it had never before perceived his sister as a threat. It was disorientating, with the pure panic overwhelming him in that moment he could barely think.

“I said don’t move.” Nancy repeated, her words firm.

A breathless sound almost akin to a sob escaped Mike’s lips. “Nancy please.” Usually he would have hated how feeble and weak he sounded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that right now.

A look of confusion flashed within Nancy’s eyes at that. Her breathing hitched and her expression then solidified once more. “How do you know my name?” She demanded harshly. Mike’s gaze was still fixed on the pistol, unmoving.

He wasn’t thinking clearly right now, he knew that much with how everything around him had muted - which is why he wasn’t sure why he did it. But he dragged his gaze away from the gun, to his sister's enraged look, then back to the gun and his fear spiked. It was a split second decision based solely off adrenaline alone and he regretted it the moment he’d done it.

He ripped off his mask.

“Nance…”

Nancy went completely still.

Mike used her reaction to finally get the words he’d been wanting to say out.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you ever since… but I… I didn’t know how. I thought about it everyday but I just couldn't… Just please listen to me Nance. I didn’t… I didn’t murder Barb. I swear I… I tried so hard to save her. You have to believe me, I-” Mike fumbled with his words, still stricken with panic. “Can you… Can you please just listen to me?” He pleaded, “I’m your brother… Do you really think I’m a murderer?” His breaths came out short and ragged, he was finding it increasingly more difficult to compose himself.

Nancy didn’t reply, she still didn’t look up to meet his eyes.

“Nance please, please listen to me. I would never murder anyone I didn’t… I didn’t kill Barb, you don’t understand just let me-”

A thundering gunshot filled his ears. Mike’s jaw snapped shut. Nancy lowered her hand from where she’d fired the pistol into the sky.

When she finally looked up to meet his gaze, he really wished she hadn’t. Her expression was pained, but her eyes were colder than he’d ever seen. It was a look he thought he’d never see on his sister's face, especially directed only to him. Mike’s heart raced, his body had shifted without him knowing, his instincts locking him into a defensive stance. The spider screamed at him to run, get out of here, go.

He ignored it.

“Nance, please…” Mike begged softly, hoping she’d listen.

Nancy drew in a deep breath that didn’t sound too steady, the pistol shaking as her hand trembled. “You need to wait for the police to get here.” This time her voice did waver, but her words were the only thing Mike could focus on. He stared at her, dark eyes wide and filled with disbelief, brimming with tears.

“Nance stop.” He begged, a sob catching in his throat as he desperately tried to get through to her. He took a step forward, Nancy took one back, he looked down at the gun still pointed squarely at his chest. His eyes found his sisters again. “Are you really this afraid of me? Please don’t… Just-”

He stopped short when registered the sound of sirens a block or two away, the police were almost here and Nancy…

Nancy was willing to turn him over to them.

When the sirens got closer and the sound of a car skidding to a halt at the end of the alley was heard, Nancy looked away at the direction of where the noise had come from, distracted. And Mike, still so scared and hurt and betrayed and panicked, took his chance. He shot his wrist outwards and a web shot towards the pistol, he yanked it from her hold before she could even look back.

Mike stayed in place for a few moments, eyes locked onto Nancy’s own, he didn’t have time to catch the look in her eyes before his spider sense buzzed frantically as approaching voices grew louder and without a second thought Mike launched himself into the sky, finally allowing the tears to fall. He kept swinging, the city a mere blur around him, no real destination in mind, no goal other than to get away from there.

Away from the piercing look of cold hatred in his sister's eyes.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things oneshot #stranger things au #spidermike #spidermike au #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #wheeler siblings #noodle's fics

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inchidentally · 27 days

Note

Venus as a boy, inch… https://www.tumblr.com/xiaoluclair/719420109796589568/danielricciardo-bisous-landonorris-bro-sexy — wiz

@wisteriagoesvroom W I Z. b a b e. I've never been proud of coming up with a tag for someone but that one I'm like fuck that's good I did that <3<3

and listen I have a whoooooole unrealistically deep thing for the Daniel POV content when he was held in thrall as Lando's teammate

xiaoluclair

His wicked Sense of humor Suggests Exciting sex!

He believes in a beauty He's Venus as a boy

ofc I get weird about his dynamic w Lando and trust me Daniel's blokey-ness plays a key role in it :)

while Lando can't magically alter someone's sexuality, his vulnerability mixed with his unique personal beauty can fuck up a straight man's brain chemistry - and that hit nobody harder than Daniel. Lando had two alpha dudes barrel into his life and commit to bromances with him right off the bat and for the most part the dynamic is that they're hilarious and pretend to bully him and get in his space while Lando giggles and fruitlessly fights back… but in the same way Carlos got stumped by how much of a safety blanket he became for Lando's unguarded little heart, Daniel got completely sideswiped by how he couldn't 'bro' Lando into submission in their dynamic and became a half-broken acolyte to a boy ten years younger than him.

like, not only was the teammate dynamic so fully in favor of Lando in terms of their performances those two seasons but Daniel could not stop himself being dragged around by his eyeballs every time Lando was in view. he was both butthurt AND thoroughly heartsick about Lando by the time he was bought out by McLaren.

from the start, every time Daniel would try his usual asserting dominance by disarming humor shtick on Lando it would die with a thud. Lando would get quiet and retreat and leave Daniel totally unmoored. but when Daniel would pet Lando's skin nicely and give him a genuine smile and not the usual shark-toothed one, Lando would purr sweetly and open up like a flower. when Daniel showed an interest in photography and copied Lando's camera and ig account, Lando would willingly spend time with him outside media duties.

and suddenly Daniel's big, loping caddish character that usually cut a heavy swathe through the paddock was instead crouching in submission to try and steal as much of Lando's attention as possible. he found himself changing course to encounter the boy, teeth bared in nervous submission to Lando's upright ballet posture. something about Lando's looks being on the cusp of finely finished manhood but still mostly rounded and boyishly pretty made Daniel keep picking up his phone or his camera to document the penumbral shift. something pierced his Man Brain and told him what a gift it was to witness Lando bud and bloom right in front of his eyes and that special devotion must be paid to the event. but like all profane idolatry, the fact that Daniel knew he could never gain entry to the Eden of owning Lando solely for himself - and that Lando would wither and die like a butterfly stuck on a pin if Daniel tried - eventually sickened and threatened Daniel with a dissatisfaction for life itself.

being so close to Lando, living with him but not really, was like exsanguination by obsessive adoration. Lando's pink lips and sparkling eyes and soft skin were constellations millions of light-years away from Daniel's clay-bound feet. the rush of lust and drunkenness Daniel got from catching Lando fully unawares and making him flush and writhe was like a climax that remained firmly unattainable. the only release would be to give Lando up and Daniel couldn't do that, his hand had to be forced.

whereas since leaving McLaren, Daniel has a much more secure footing and can safely little brother Lando while keeping the adulation a mere background hum to Lando's brilliant, shining egress through Daniel's space. they're both keeping up the bromance in the same way and genuine, grown-up friendship has been cemented. when Lando and Martin decided to go and stay with Daniel as a spontaneous interlude until the next leg of their norrix world tour, Daniel already had mates staying and it was a fun boys mini break.

but do I like to imagine that when Daniel saw Martin with his easy, proprietary ownership of Lando for the entirety of the winter, it made an ugly little gnarl of scar tissue - burned into his left ventricle by Lando's memory - twist and squeeze so hard that it made Daniel fall against his own kitchen counter with a cold death-grip as he watched Lando preparing breakfast in Daniel's own kitchen? yes. do I weirdly love thinking that the phantom pain lingered as he watched Martin bundle Lando into the car for the airport and see them already laughing and sharing jokes and references only they knew before remembering to wave goodbye to Daniel? yes.

do I think that happened, no but that's not as romantic <3

#inchreplies #in which lando venus as a boy'd daniel #inchidentallyanessay #inch gets weird #I removed my personal thoughts at request and tbh I get it <3

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iamnmbr3 · 1 month

Note

hi again! So i remembered some points these days that i decided to share 'cause who pictures drarry better than you?

The fact that in CoS, harry used rictusempra on draco like really?? Did you seriously intend to tickle your arch-enemy in a DUEL?(idk but i never imagined draco as a truly happy kid bc happiness isn't brought about teasing and mocking or boasting but here i just love the way draco is genuinely laughing, it's cute to me...idk maybe i go too deep into it^^)..harry it's actually harmless and draco's just wheezing but you still wait bc you think it's unsporting?like what?standing there and watch him wheeze?i know harry is a verrryyy good person but c'mon it's playfulness rather than fighting!

I recalled a meta i read some time that talked about malfoy manner scene(when harry grabbed 3 wands from draco's hand and cast stupefy on greyback)that how, deciding to grab wands, harry actually didn't think draco is gonna do the same & cast triple stupefy or sth worse to hurt him and keep them there? he thought he's gonna help or hand wands over?really wanted to know his thoughts here:(

Thanks for reading!

Ah you are too kind! <3

1) I really like the dueling scene in book 2 because it's a great parallel to the much more serious duel they have in book 6. (Books 2 and 6 parallel each other in many ways and this is only one of them). We see Harry incapacitate Draco harmlessly with Rictusempra in book 2, and then much less harmlessly with the somewhat similar sounding Sectumsempra spell in book 6. In book 2 Snape helps Draco with the duel and in book 6 he (unwittingly) helps Harry through his old potions book which teaches Harry the Sectumsempra spell. (As an aside I always thought maybe Serpensortia was another one he'd invented).

In terms of Harry not using very aggressive spells in this scene I think it makes sense since it's only second year so he's not that good of a dueler yet and also since he's not actually fighting Draco out of anger here (unlike in book 4 for example) but rather because he's been told to. However, I do think it's quite interesting and kind of adorable that he hangs back and doesn't want to attack Draco while he's down even though, as you say, it's only a tickling spell. Certainly doesn't seem like Harry's feeling that vindictive towards someone he dislikes...

And also Draco at this point may actually know more spells for fighting than Harry does. I mean I'm sure his parents don't enforce the no magic at home rule. But he opts for very harmless things too. Not only here, but also when they actually fight in book 4 outside Snape's classroom. He doesn't like hurting people. Especially Harry. Though I'm sure he'd see this as a failing and want to avoid admitting it to himself.

2) Yeah the Manor scene is fascinating and very, very drarry for many reasons. The wand bit is quite extraordinary because Harry doesn't disarm Draco with magic. He physically wrestles them out of Draco's hands. And yet Draco, despite putting up a bit of a fight at first, apparently can't bring himself to simply use magic against Harry which he certainly could have done since he's still holding the wands.

And we know he has fast reflexes because he was nearly as good a Seeker as Harry and was also able to hold his own against Harry in sixth year for a few rounds - longer than pretty much anyone else Harry has dueled - despite the fact that by that point Harry is absolutely deadly in a duel. And yet Draco does nothing to incapacitate Harry with magic and instead surrenders the wands, leaving himself defenseless.

And Harry in his turn completely ignores Draco from that point on and doesn't do anything to harm him at all even though he immediately stuns Lucius on sight. Apparently in Harry's mind Draco's in another category though...

#asks #drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter

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beefromanoff · 6 months

Text

Going Under Ch. 26

summary: things reach their peak...in more ways than one.

characters: Bucky Barnes x OC

soundtrack: I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

warnings: fluff, pop star fantasy x love story, set in an AU where the Avengers reunite after Civil War, pre-infinity war, slight angst, hurt/comfort, lonely reader/OC.

author’s note: okay OKAY this is big, and the first of this kind that I've written...so please give me feedback! It took 26 chapters to get here so I hope it was done right! ugh so many emotions, I hope you enjoy!

PS - special love to @charmedbysarge for the love and support, you being invested makes me even more invested and want to get things up even faster! I appreciate you! <3

chapter list

_________________________________________

The training room buzzed with energy.

Two dozen agents practiced hand-to-hand combat, honing their skills just like every week.

Just like every other week, Gianna sat at the edge of the training room, back against the wall. Her notebook was spread open on her lap. Typically, musings and lyrics poured out of her pen faster than she could write them down. The past few days…quite the opposite. The pages in front of her were completely empty, save for the scrawled doodles in the margins. She sighed, looking up at the noisy room.

Weaving through the pairs of sparring partners, Bucky paused every so often to provide guidance. His movements were precise and powerful, even when he demonstrated things at half speed for the agents to learn. Watching him had become a familiar routine, one Gianna looked forward to each day. But again, lately, something felt different.

His voice echoing through the cavernous room, Bucky called the agents to gather around, ending the training the same way he always did - with a few sparring sessions of his own. Agent Allison, the one who infamously had the hots for him, practically leapt to the front of the crowd, volunteering to go first.

In the weeks since she’d been at the compound, it had become common knowledge that Gianna and Bucky were very much together. There was a strict no-media protocol on the compound, with everyone who entered having to sign an airtight NDA. The precautions were for keeping much greater secrets, but it definitely made for a much more private relationship while they stayed here. Even if the agents saw Bucky shove Gianna up against this exact wall in the training room (not that she’d ever daydreamt about it), they couldn’t say a word, take a photo, nothing.

Most of the agents had healthy discretion, acknowledging the high-profile relationship existed without making it a thing. Gianna guessed that after months of watching the Black Widow and Captain America with their ongoing will-they-won’t-they thing, the agents had become desensitized to the outlandish things they saw at work. It wasn’t like they could go home, hit happy hour with their friends, and talk about how they’d spent the day sparring with the Winter Soldier.

Although if anyone were to try and boast about it…Gianna knew it would be Agent Allison. She narrowed her eyes, watching them.

Bucky’s every move was calculated, his strikes sharp and unforgiving. His face remained blank, clearly nowhere close to his full exertion. As much as Gianna hated to admit it, Agent Allison was skilled in her own right. She fought valiantly, no doubt showing off, but he made quick work of the round. Bucky swiftly disarmed her and, with a controlled motion, sent her to the mat. The thud echoed through the room as she landed on her back. Gianna bit the tip of her pen to disguise the grin that threatened to play across her face.

No sooner had she reprimanded herself for being so satisfied with the agent’s defeat did another thought cross her mind.

The way Bucky had sparred with her, and every other female agent, was the exact same as he sparred with the men. He held back, naturally, but he definitely didn’t take it easy on them. He let himself beat them, quickly. He hit them, hard. He didn’t treat them like they were breakable.

It bothered her, not at all because of his sheer strength, but because of the contrast between his approach with her and with the agents. The memory of his protective outburst at the lake just a few days ago resurfaced, muddled with the image of him throwing Agent Allison to the floor just a moment ago.

Goddammit, Gianna. Don’t make something out of nothing. He’s obviously not going to treat you like a combat trained field agent with years of experience. You’re manufacturing conflict.

She shook her head to clear it, but couldn't shake the knot that had formed in her stomach.

________________________________________________________

“Oh, Lordy, something smells good in here!” Sam announced his presence in the kitchen as Gianna stirred a pot on the stove.

“Once, just once, could you enter a room quietly?” Bucky scowled from his seat at the kitchen island, keeping her company while she worked.

“Yow, somebody’s hangry.”

“Make yourself useful,” Wanda thrust a stack of plates into Sam’s hands. “Set the table, don’t forget forks go on the left!”

“Yeah, yeah, not my fault y’all treat every dinner like the Queen’s joining us.” He rolled his eyes but obliged.

Even after the weeks she’d been at the compound, their dinner tradition hadn’t faded. Almost every night, Gianna and Wanda would cook for whichever variation of the team was there. They’d eat at the table, sit and talk for way too long, and then tackle the dishes before going their separate ways. Everyone teased the girls for their commitment to the new tradition, but it was clear that not one person wanted to give up the wholesome family atmosphere it brought.

“Oh, I left the pie in the fridge downstairs. I’ll be right back.” Wanda disappeared around the corner, leaving Gianna and Bucky alone in the kitchen.

“Have I told you lately how pretty you are?” He cocked his head to the side as he stood and rounded the island.

“Hmm…” Gianna pretended to think. “Would half an hour ago be considered ‘lately’?”

“Absolutely not.” He caught her wrist and pulled her close, wrapping his hands around her waist.

“Bucky,” She giggled between kisses, her face still flushing at his adoration.

“What?” He grinned and moved his hands up to her cheeks, kissing her slowly. She melted into him, only being brought back to reality by the oven timer dinging.

“As much as I’d like to keep this going, I didn’t spend two hours slaving away just to burn a whole lasagna.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him one last kiss on his prickly jawline. “Not a full stop, just a pause.”

As Gianna rifled through the kitchen drawers, the oven timer kept dinging. “Ugh, if Wanda moves the oven mitts one more time…” She heard the oven open behind her and turned to see Bucky grab the casserole dish with his left hand, depositing it on the stove. He must have heard her gasp, turning to grin.

“It’s multipurpose.” He wiggled his vibranium fingers at her, unphased.

“That’s the true hero work,” She winked. “Now go sit down, play nice with Sam.”

He groaned but turned to head for the dining room. Waiting for the lasagna to settle, she looked around for what was missing. Glasses. Of course, the only clean ones left were on the very top shelf. She climbed onto the counter, putting a knee on the smooth marble and pulling herself up by the open cabinet door.

“Sam forgot napkins, hey, what are you doing?” Bucky frowned as he walked back in.

“All the other cups are in the dishwasher. Here,” She passed two glasses down to him.

“I could have gotten those for you.”

“No need,” She handed him the last two and scrambled down. “I’m resourceful.”

“You could have fallen, hit your head, stepped on the hot stove…”

“But I didn’t.”

“But,”

“Buck,” She interrupted him. “I’m fine.”

He paused for a moment, brows still knit together, but took the glasses into the other room without another word.

________________________________________________________

“I don’t think I can eat again for a week.” Bucky groaned as he laid back onto the bed.

“I’ve heard that before.” She grinned as she unfastened her earrings, setting them on the nightstand. “Yet you always seem to have a change of heart around breakfast.”

“I’m weak for pancakes.”

“You seem to have a few more weaknesses than that.” She purred, climbing onto his lap.

“That doesn’t sound like me.” He smirked and propped himself on his elbows. Gianna ignored him, running her fingers along his jawline.

“If I recall,” She slid her hands under the hem of his sweatshirt, hands cold against his warm body. “We have unfinished business.”

Bucky sat up, putting his hand on the small of Gianna’s back to keep her steady as he shifted beneath her. “That…” He kissed her, soft and slow. “We do.”

They hadn’t discussed what happened after the lake. When she’d quite literally laid herself bare and he left the room. She tried to tell herself he meant what he said, he felt gross from his mission and wanted to shower. She knew he wanted to ‘take things slow’ - but what did that mean? They’d been…whatever they were, officially, for weeks now. He slept in her bed almost every night. He kissed her in front of God and everybody. He’d shared his most intimate thoughts with her by revealing his journals.

But every time she tried to push things just a little further…he’d stop. He’d shift the tone to sweet, playing with her hair until she fell asleep or tracing circles on the small of her back. It was kind, gentle, honorable. At this point, however, she’d had her fill of kind, gentle, and honorable.

Gianna pulled back from his lips, raising her arms above her head. Their eyes locked as his hands slid up her back, the fabric of her shirt rising with it. Slowly, tenderly, he lifted it over her head and let her tousled hair tumble down her back. After letting his gaze drift over her for a moment, soaking up the delicate lace of her bra, she tugged his shirt over his head. Their warm chests pressed together as she wrapped her hand around his neck and kissed him again, tongue parting his lips immediately.

His grip tightened around her back as the kiss intensified, her hands tangled in his hair. Feeling especially impatient, Gianna slid off of his lap, her bare feet landing in the carpet between his knees. She pulled back from his lips, eyes hungry, and gently shoved his bare chest to push him back to the bed. He complied without protesting, watching her every move.

Her hands drifted to his hips, tugging on the drawstring of his sweatpants. Bucky’s eyes darkened. When the knot came undone in her delicate grip, she slipped her fingers inside the waistband and tugged them down, leaving them in a discarded heap on the floor.

Gianna rose, pausing only for a minute, to look over him sitting in his boxers. The muscles of his abdomen were taught even as he laid back on his elbows. His dark hair had the oh-so-familiar evidence of her hands having run through it. His jaw was clenched, blue eyes raking over her body.

God, he’s pretty.

Afraid of waiting any longer, she climbed back onto his lap, his hands meeting her hips in a desperate, greedy grip. Their lips crashed together as he rolled over on top of her. Gianna gasped into their kiss as his hips pressed against hers, his desire more than evident.

Suddenly, tragically, infuriatingly…he tore himself from her and stood, out of breath.

“I, we can’t.” He didn’t meet her eyes.

“Why?” Gianna cried out, unable to contain her frustration. Bucky turned his back to her, walking around the room. “Bucky, look at me!”

Slowly, he approached the bed, staying out of arms’ reach. He still didn’t look at her.

“Bucky…”

“I told you…”

“No, you told me you can’t. You told me you want to do this right, but you won’t tell me why or when the right time is! For God’s sake, I am throwing myself at you, and you’re walking away from me,” Her voice cracked at the end and he looked up with guilt-ridden eyes.

“I’m sorry,” He reached out to cup her cheek but she caught his hand.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to want me.”

“Gianna…” Bucky dropped to his knees in front of the bed. “This isn’t about me wanting you…that has never, ever been a problem.”

“Then what is the problem?”

His blue eyes looked back and forth between hers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“God, Bucky, I’m not made of glass!” She climbed off of the bed, throwing her hands in the air. “Why do you treat me like I’m breakable! You freaked out when I was just having fun, doing the same thing as everyone else, you didn’t even like when I climbed on the counter to get a dish from the cabinet, and I know you made Peter come with us to New York because you were afraid I wouldn’t be safe enough with just Wanda.” Her eyes narrowed. “You have always protected me, always kept me safe, but it’s like that’s all you want to do!”

His eyes were torn, it took everything in her not to rush to comfort him with the heart-wrenching look he had on his face. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He repeated, his voice coming out as a growl.

“You don’t have to worry about hurting me -”

“I have to worry about hurting everyone.” He hissed, angry at the reality and angry it had led to this when all he wanted was to give in. “Especially you.”

“You don’t treat me like the others, the way you threw Agent Allison on the ground today,” Gianna paused, steeling herself, furious that she even had to mention that woman in her own bedroom. “Do you…think I’m weak? Do you think I can’t handle myself?”

“No, Gianna,” He crossed the room in two steps and cupped her face. “That’s not it at all. You are…easily one of the strongest women, strongest people I’ve ever met. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to endure and you’ve done most of it alone.” He searched her eyes. “It’s not that I think you can’t handle things…it’s that I don’t think you should have to. I…I want better for you. I want to give you what you deserve, keep everything bad away.”

Her face softened as his desperate words. “I don’t need everything bad to be kept away. I just need to keep the good close.” She tucked a dark strand behind his ear. “I just can’t seem to get close enough.”

Bucky’s thumbs brushed her cheeks, the conflict in his mind almost palpable. “I…I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her brows knit together, watching the anguish on his face. “How would you -”

“I don’t trust myself.” His voice was strained. “With how I feel about you, what I want…”

“But I trust you.” She tilted his chin to look back at her. “What about what I want?”

Gianna took a step back. The number of days she’d worn matching lacy undergarments, just hoping it would be the night he’d take them off of her…she’d lost count. Tonight, standing before him in the delicate, lacy blue set, the one that reminded her of his eyes when she picked it out in the store…she didn’t think she had enough patience to hope for another day.

“Bucky…” She breathed. “Ask me what I want.”

His eyes slowly, painfully, rose to meet hers. His breathing was labored. He was losing the battle with himself.

“What…do you want?”

“I want you to stop worrying.”

She stroked his cheek.

“I want you to know you make me feel safer than I ever have, in my life.”

She held his metal hand in hers, kissing his knuckles.

“I want you to appreciate this stupid lingerie I picked out specifically for you.”

She took two slow, deliberate steps backwards, letting his eyes trail over her.

“I want you to stop acting like I’m breakable and throw me on this bed like I’ve been dreaming about for months.”

“Gianna,” His voice was a low warning, all his restraint about to break.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Half a second.

That’s how long he hesitated before he snapped. In two strides, he crossed the room, never breaking eye contact with her. Before she could process, he’d picked her up, one hand supporting her and one hand gripping her cheek like his life depended on it. He kissed her harder, hungrier than he ever had before. Moving his hand away from her face for a split second, he reached around her back and ripped the clasp off of her bra. Without setting her down, he climbed onto the bed, still holding her to his body as he supported them both with his other arm.

He ran his tongue along her lower lip, moaning into her mouth. With a deep kiss, he deposited her onto the bed, rising up on his knees. Gianna let out a small whine as he pulled away but was quickly silenced by the look in his eyes. He reached down and took the delicate lace of her bra between his fingers, lifting it off of her body with ease, thanks to the mangled clasp somewhere across the room. He set it to the side and ran his hands across her collarbone, tracing the outline of her breasts, before trailing his hands down to her hips. A trail of fire lit Gianna’s skin everywhere he touched her.

Bucky traced the lace design, committing the image to memory. In one swift movement, completely contradictory to the gentle way he touched her, he grabbed them and yanked. The lace ripped with ease and he tossed the ruined material to the side.

“Fuck.”

Gianna sucked in a breath, the sight of him looking at her so lustfully making it suddenly hard to breathe, to think at all. “Please,” She pleaded.

He didn’t make her wait. In a second, his boxers were ripped and discarded right next to her panties. He was on her, arms caging her in on the mattress. He surrounded her. All she could see were piercing blue eyes, inky black hair hanging down over her, silver vibranium glinting in the moonlight. He filled her senses. He burrowed into the crook of her neck, kissing her collarbone, nipping at the delicate skin below her ear. She moaned, fingers running up his back.

His hand cupped her jaw, giving her a long, wet kiss before pulling back. His thumb ran across her lower lip, not able to fully let go but needing to put his mouth on the rest of her. He kissed, nibbled, bit what felt like every inch of her neck, chest, stomach. Gianna squirmed, urging him back up, but he caught her hips in an unyielding grip and held her still as he continued.

Bucky slid off the edge of the bed, again kneeling on the floor beside it. Still holding her hips, he yanked her to the edge of the bed, parting her legs around his face. His eyes met hers as he sank out of her view, draping her legs lazily over his shoulders. The gleam in his eye when he tasted her was almost predatory. Though she couldn’t see his face, Gianna knew, could feel that he was smirking. She threw her head back as a moan escaped her, bucking her hips against his face. Again, he gripped her waist and pinned her down, ensuring she wouldn’t move before his left hand disappeared. A cold, vibranium finger slid inside of her, moving at a tantalizing pace.

She couldn’t tell if it was ten seconds or ten minutes that he stayed between her legs, time passed differently with that kind of ecstasy. Before she knew it, everything that had been building up since she first saw him, saw those blue eyes and the muscles through the back of his t-shirts…all of it coiled inside of her until she couldn’t take it anymore. Her secret, lust-filled daydreams mixed with all the memories of his face swirled through her mind as she cried out, her legs wrapped around his shoulders. The grip he had on her waist with his right hand was sure to leave a mark, but it was nowhere near her mind at that moment. Her eyes flew open, arching her back, and the last thing she saw as she came undone was that tousled black hair between her legs.

Gianna fell apart in his hands, quivering as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. Far from satiated, Bucky slowly pulled back, kissing the insides of her thighs as he did. The way they trembled in his hands made him even more feral, made him need her even more.

He slid his hand under her back and moved her to the middle of the bed, climbing on top of her. Her eyes were dazed, looking up at him like he was the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Using his legs, Bucky nudged hers open and settled between them, ready to finish what they started. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, tasting the thinnest sheen of sweat across her brow.

“Are you sure?”

She looked up at him with those big green eyes. Wordlessly, her hands snaked down to grab his hips, pulling him towards her. He moved slowly, watching her face for any kind of discomfort as he pushed into her for the first time. With a soft whimper, her eyes rolled beneath her lids, head falling back to the mattress. Bucky bit his lip, commanding himself to take it slow. More impatient than him, Gianna’s legs wrapped around his waist and locked, pulling him deep inside of her. Their moans mixed together as he paused, fully entwined with her.

He could smell her, feel her, taste her…she was everywhere. She was everything.

After a moment of letting her adjust, Bucky kissed Gianna, so gently she had to open her eyes and make sure it was real. There was a moment of overwhelming, intoxicating warmth that flooded her as his eyes opened and met hers. They paused, pressing their foreheads together and breathing the same breath.

“Move,” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but a command nonetheless.

So he did.

Pulling back and thrusting into her, he picked up in pace and force until the room was a hurricane of sweat, moans, and the sound of skin on skin. Gianna heard herself cry out his name, but it felt otherworldly. Nothing was real to her except the feeling of him, of James Buchanan Barnes, inside of her.

When he fell apart, it was the most delicious sight she’d ever seen. His eyes rolled, he threw his head back, his mouth opened to let out a low moan as every muscle in his beautiful body tensed.

They laid there for another undefined amount of time, limbs tangled, sweat mingled, hearts pounding. Bucky’s arms cradled her head as he laid his on her chest, soothed by the rise and fall of her breathing.

“Bucky?”

He lifted his head, stroking her hair off of her cheek.

“I want this, all of this. Always.”

His lopsided smile spread across his face. “That good, huh?”

“Bucky,” She nudged him. “I’m serious.”

“Gianna…” He propped himself up and traced her hairline, her ear, her jaw. “I couldn’t even resist you when all I had was the idea of you. Now that I know you, now that…I can never go back to a life without you.”

She bit her lip to keep the goofy, giddy smile from breaking through. Having heard what she wanted, she pulled herself out from under him and padded over to the oversized tub in the corner.

“For the record,” Gianna grinned as she turned on the hot water. “It most definitely was that good, and you better actually join me this time.”

Bucky rolled off the bed, grinning right back. “Don’t have to ask me twice.”

#bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes x oc #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #bucky fluff #sebastian stan #winter soldier fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #winter soldier smut

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freesia-writes · 1 year

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I love your Gregor dates fics and not just because I requested them! So I have another idea since they're starting to get more comfortable with one another. They're on an island right? Maybe there needs to be a followup date where they go to the beach and go swimming/spend time in the water enjoying the weather?

Gregor Date #3!

Summer has arrived on the island with a sudden and oppressive wave of dry heat, and the inhabitants take to the waters to cool off. Gregor invites you to join him after work one day for a sunset swim, and promises to regale you with tales of bravery, all of which he will make up on the spot since he doesn't actually remember any of them. His giggle at the end of the offer seals the deal, and as you drop your work bag in your entryway, you feel a sense of excitement rising. Preparation is fairly quick, although you gripe over your swimsuit selection. They all seemed to look great when you bought them, but now as you try them on in front of the mirror, you find every single nitpicky flaw. Finally settling for a high-waisted two piece with a high neck halter top, you wrap a thin, flowy cover-up over it all and plop a big, floppy hat on your head.

Gregor is knocking at the door, right on time, and you open it with a huge smile. Each date has left you feeling increasingly comfortable (and increasingly infatuated) with his expressive eyebrows, disarming giggles, and infectious joy for life. He's equipped with a backpack, wearing swim trunks and a tank top, and you're quick to notice his nicely-rounded shoulders and strong arms, remembering how he carried you so effortlessly.

"Well hellooooo my lady!" he says in greeting, opening his arms for a hug. You've never felt so much of his bare skin, and it radiates heat as you nestle yourself against his chest, catching a delightful whiff of musky soap mixed with a slight bit of sweaty man stank. He releases you, stepping back to look you up and down, and for once you don't feel sheepish or under scrutiny. "You look like a fresh island breeze! Let's go!" he declares, offering you a gentlemanly arm.

The walk down to the water is a smooth, winding path through the village, and the delicious smells wafting from all the restaurants and food carts makes your mouth water. One street vendor in particular has an eye-catching array of gyros, stuffed with thinly-shaved meat slices, tomatoes, cucumbers, and sauce, and both you and Gregor pull over to check them out.

Five minutes later, you're on your way, hands full of a warm pita wrapped in blue and white checkered paper, continuing your conversation between bites. The beach stretches out before you; it's one of the more remote ones on the island but the heat has driven almost everyone to the ocean, so there are a handful of people scattered around it. The water is impossibly bright, a glowing blue-green, and you can see the bottom all the way out to sea.

The sand is impossibly soft, and its pastel peach color makes it look even more inviting. Finding a snug little spot against a large piece of driftwood, Gregor drops the backpack, tucking his food wrapper in a side pocket, and brings out a large beach blanket, throwing it across the sand and tucking it underneath the wood.

"Might want to cool off first, eh?" he asks, whipping off his tank top without waiting for an answer, and you're distracted by a sudden urge to touch his broad chest and nestle your fingers in the little tuft of hair in the middle. You shake your head to try to brush the thought aside, which he takes as a response to his question. "Oh, no? No worries!" he continues brightly.

"Oh, sorry!" you correct, "No! I was... thinking about something else. No, that sounds great! Just... gotta put some sunscreen on first," you assure him, slowly unwrapping your cover-up and trying not to look at your body with judgment. You've been working on loving yourself just as you are, focusing on all that your body does your you, viewing it through an appreciative eye that's unburdened by unrealistic societal expectations. But it's still a lifelong struggle. Gregor, however, is a delightful assistance in that realm.

"Look at you!" he exclaims, unabashedly enraptured at the sight of you. His gaze doesn't feel unwelcome, though he doesn't let it linger too long. "Need some help with that?" he asks, without a trace of ulterior motives, as you fix your hair on top of your head, shake the sunscreen bottle, and pour some into your hands.

"Oh, um... Thanks," you admit, handing him the bottle and turning your back to him. He gently spreads it across your shoulders and up the back of your neck, hands firm and yet incredibly gentle. You try not to shiver visibly at his touch, relishing the sensations. He continues down the outsides of your arms and puts an extra little blob across the middle of your back that pokes out from the high-waisted bottoms. You could swear you hear a self-conscious little giggle as he smooths it back and forth.

"Your turn," you say, finishing rubbing it into your face, and one of his sharp eyebrows arches in playful delight. He stands before you, lifting his arms out to the sides, and closes his eyes, upturning his face toward the sun as though he is totally at your mercy. This is going quite well. You pour a decent amount onto your hands, rubbing them together before spreading it across his back. You're trying not to enjoy yourself too much as your hands slide down his ribs and across his muscular little waist, and when you rub the sunscreen up the outsides of his arms, his eyes meet yours in a way that makes your heart skip a beat, and you'd very much like to kiss him in that moment.

"Well that was an unexpected perk! We might need to venture out into the sun more often," he chuckles, waggling his eyebrows suggestively and earning a blushing little chortle from you. "So shall we?" he asks, gently taking your hand in his, giving you a lovely little case of the tingles, and walks toward the water. The two of you wade in, savoring the warm yet refreshing water as it rises to your waists. There's a gentle sea breeze, just enough to brush your hair back from your face, and Gregor gives you another affectionate look.

"So, you want to hear the tale of the commando droid ambush?" he says conspiratorially, arching an eyebrow with mock intensity. You laugh, wading in a little deeper, and nod. "Excellent!" he continues, "So there we were... on a mission on some planet... and we were charging into a cave... to find... something... or fight someone..." He giggles, swirling the water around him with his arms as a wave gently splashes against his chest. "It was dark, and it had become totally silent... except for the sound of our feet... when all of a sudden... ATTACK!"

The last word is yelled, for dramatic effect, and he leaps suddenly into the water behind you, casting a flurry of water droplets up your back and hair that startles you. His arms find you from behind and wrap you snugly as he rises to his feet, shooting back up out of the water with you in his grasp, holding you slightly up out of the water and turning in a little circle. You laugh at the absolute surprise and ridiculousness of it all, heart thrilling at his closeness and strength.

"They were all around us! Every direction! We were outnumbered! But never you worry -- I was quick on my feet! Lightning fast, I whipped out not one, but five electromagnetic pulse grenades! I scattered them in every direction, and we dove for cover," his voice increases in volume, getting slightly more squeaky, and you're giggling uncontrollably now. "Then BOOM!"

With perhaps too much enthusiasm, he throws you in the air, and you land in the water with the most ungraceful kerplunk you could have imagined. Momentarily underwater, you burst to the surface, hat floating away, chunks of loose hair escaping your bun and framing your face in a straggled mess. The shock on your face gives him a clue that he may have gone too far, and his excitement is immediately mixed with contrition.

"Ohhhh I'm sorry!" he says with a nervous chuckle, "I got carried away!"

"It's okay," you laugh, pushing your hair out of your eyes and attempting to salvage any sort of put-together look.

"Well, I guess I should be fair," Gregor squeaks, taking a deep breath and plunging himself under the next wave. He comes back up, slicked-back hair now flat and wet on his forehead, and you never realized you were such an overly-romantic sucker for glistening droplets of water on a strong, manly chest. He catches your gaze, running both hands over his head to push his hair back, and grows slightly serious.

"Thank you for coming with me," he says, sincerity across his face.

"Of course! I love our time together!"

He giggles, a bit sheepishly, and draws closer, eyes darting to the side, and you feel his hand reach your waist, sending an electric shock through your body at the touch of his skin on yours under the water. His eyes come back to yours, a meek inquisitiveness about them, and you smile, taking a step toward him as the small waves rock the two of you back and forth. You put a hand on his forearm, and, feeling emboldened by the bliss on his face, reach the other one up to his chest, giving it a light caress before flattening your palm against it. His other arm wraps around your back, pulling you up against him, and the warmth and touch is intoxicating.

He holds you close for a moment, gazing into your eyes with a joyful calm, and slowly leans in, causing your heart to pound in your chest. He touches his forehead to yours, tracing his nose gently across yours a time or two, then lifts his head and places an unfathomably tender kiss on your forehead. The gentle lulling motion of the waves, combined with his firm yet soft embrace, blend in with the lingering spark of his lips on your skin, and you suddenly realize why the women on the holo films do that swooning thing.

He pulls away, slowly, eyes closed as if continuing to savor it, mouth curving into a huge smile. You let out a content sigh, and he opens those honey brown eyes, giving you one last squeeze before releasing you into the ocean.

"Race you to the shore?" he invites, suddenly grinning with an ambitious spark in his eye, and you laugh, wading as quickly as you can, trundling through the water with arms waving back and forth for momentum and balance. He dives ahead like a dolphin, arms pointed in front of him, and pops up a few feet ahead. The two of you feel like kids again, cackling and pushing toward the sand with absolutely no attempt at graceful movement. He's got you by a few feet, and in a last-ditch effort, you grab an ankle that he foolishly let come too close. You didn't mean to, but your grasp throws him off balance, and he flops onto the sand on his side, letting out a little squawk of surprise.

"Ohhh my bad!" you exclaim worriedly, rushing to bend over him to see if he's alright. On closer inspection, however, he is laughing, and pulls you to the ground next to him. The sand is soft, but immediately sticks to every inch of your wet body, and you let fly a little curse word before you can hold it back.

"What a mess!" Gregor giggles, rolling closer to brush your hair from your face. You're both lying on your sides, facing each other, with the waves barely tickling your toes. The setting sun beams the last of its warm golden rays, and you find yourself lost in his eyes again, eyes that can somehow be intense yet giddy, soulfully old yet childishly innocent. You sigh at his gentle caress, as the backs of his fingers linger on your cheek before resting on your arm. "I don't think I'm doing all of this right," he admits sheepishly.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," you say quietly, and his blissful smile grows.

#star wars the clone wars #clone fanfiction #clone fanfic #clone fanfics #gregor fic #gregor fanfic #captain gregor #tbb gregor #gregor #gregor one shot #gregor x reader #gregor bad batch #x reader #gregor x you #clone simp

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amorficzna · 2 months

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hiiii have a prompt!! gale/shadowheart, stuck/trapped somewhere together? 👀

thank you so so much for this prompt! i've been thinking about it a lot... and then i thought of Shadowheart's hair... and this was born! <3

(under the cut for length)

For the very little that Gale knew about Shadowheart - for she kept much of herself close to her chest like a curled up cat - he knew she must have been very diligent with her hair. He did not stare at her, thank you very much, especially not when she was slicing foes in the heat of battle with her morningstar, but he hadn’t seen her with a single hair out of place all the same.

It must have been difficult work, or at the very least she was skilled at keeping her plait sleek and her fringe nicely coiffed. He should know; his mother had unfortunately insisted he take on a sort of modified bowl cut - fringe included - when he was twelve because it was ‘incredibly in fashion right now’. His classmates disagreed. It did not help matters that his hair curled in such a way it looked like his forehead was hit by a twister each morning. So, he knew what difficulties came with her haircut. It was impressive, really. Even during their long evening conversations, even when her hair was more frumpled than usual or it lacked the delicate pining that usually accentuated her plait, her fringe was always perfect.

He wondered, as she wiped an old rag over her morningstar to clean the blood from it, if he should ask for her secret. It truly fascinated him. But before he could make a decision she saw him staring, her nose furrowing in the way it did when she was uncertain. Then she was dusting her fingers lightly through her fringe, ensuring it was in place, and turning on her heel to follow Karlach and Astarion into the wizard’s tower.

Of course, nothing along their journey was ever easy; it took naught but a few steps into the tower for the two of them to get cornered behind a triggered trap, no doubt meant to keep intruders at bay. Or rounded up until the master of the tower returned to exact her punishment.

Shadowheart cursed. Gale tried to push away from her but to no avail. The space was, simply put, tiny.

“Are you both alright?”

“No,” Shadowheart grumped.

“Don’t worry, darlings, we’ll look for a way to disarm this. Stay put,” Astarion chuffed.

The footsteps of their companions receded, along with their (or, he should say Karlach’s) worried voices.

He tried moving his leg to give her more space, but instead kneed her in the thigh.

“Sorry! Sorry, I -”

A move of his hand in the small space and he was brushing against her forehead. He winced, and kept his eyes closed, which did not help matters.

“Gale,” he stopped, “Alright. Good. Now just -”

He let her adjust him to her preferences, leaving his back flush with the wall opposite her, his hands on either side of her head. This gave her room to push herself against the other wall, sliding down just a bit to ease the tension in her legs. Even still, her lips were much too close to his own.

That was when he noticed it. Her fringe. Stuck with sweat at all angles, some of it brushed off to the side, some sticking straight up.

Her forehead was a shade lighter than the rest of her (visible - oh gods, don’t think about the invisible) skin, pockmarked from either acne or old wounds, pale and a bit damp from their recent excursions. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss her there.

Her nose scrunched up, “You’re staring. Again.”

He was. And he couldn’t look away.

“I - um - well -”

She brushed her fingers against her fringe - an old habit, no doubt - and blushed. She tried pushing some of it back into place, but his hand was over hers before she could.

“What are you -”

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and couldn’t find it in himself to be bashful for it.

She turned from him, and her cheek barely brushed past his nose, “You’re - I look ridiculous.”

“Not at all. It’s -”

The trap came down. They were pulled apart but the force of their weights pushing past each other. The moment was over.

“You alright?” Karlach asked, sprinting back into the room, and then with a giggle, “Shadowheart! Your fringe!”

Shadowheart frowned, desperately working to put it back into place.

“I know, I know,” she scowled.

But this time, as she fluffed them back into place, she looked hesitantly over to Gale.

He hoped - desperately, deliriously hoped - that she would let him see her like that again.

#bg3 #galeheart #writings #writing prompts

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deke-rivers-1957 · 1 month

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Walter Gulick's Rank

Disclaimer: For my tier list I’m basing this off of a one on one fight with no weapons and no outside interference. If a character has to rely on a weapon they’re ranked lower. If a character has to fight more than one person at a time, I’d look at it on a case by case basis. Age, size and general background are factors that will be taken into consideration. Since a lot of those details are going to be up to interpretation as these are characters and not real people, feel free to share your own thoughts.

Kid Galahad takes place in the early 1960s. The cars on the road that pass Walter's Model T look modern. Like the filmmakers had Elvis drive that in real traffic. We can also assume that given how dusty the Model T and that 1921 boxing poster looked, it's been a couple decades since it was so much as looked at. We only know that before being a boxer, Walter was in the Army who had boxing "experience" but really specialized as a mechanic in Okinawa. Both of those occupations are ones where it would definitely be easier the more in shape you are.

Walter is one of the only Elvis characters that we have any idea on when they were born. We know that his parents died when he was 14 months old and that he was baptized in Cream Valley on August 14th, 1939. Since we know he was sent to live with his family in Kentucky he had to have been baptized while his parents were still alive. Given that most Catholics baptize their children at a super young age we can assume Walter was born in either 1938 or 1939. That would make Walter interestingly younger than Elvis as he'd be between 22-23 years old.

In his first fight, Walter is going up against a professional. Joey is meant to be the best boxer in Willy's camp. Even in a practice match, Joey takes it seriously. Walter however, has no concept of blocking or proper technique. He does however, manage to withstand numerous blows to the face without even falling over. Even with boxing gloves, a blow to the head can knock you out. Being able to handle all of those blows without missing a beat, and managing to knock an opponent out with one punch is impressive. Joey himself admits that he's never had anyone hit him as hard as Walter did.

There was an offscreen confrontation that ended with Walter knocking one of Otto's lackeys out. Given that he was found with a gun on him, Walter does get additional points for managing to beat an opponent who possessed a weapon.

In his first professional fight, we see the first and only time Walter falls over. It seemed to be because of the angle and force of a particular blow. To most people that would've knocked them out. For Walter, he got back up and waved it off as "losing his balance." Once he managed to get a blow in, it was all over. Walter wins his first official match.

We then get a montage of numerous fights. Assuming Walter can only get better as he trains, he manages to win each one. It's only worth to mention because these are all professional fights that Walter has won. A larger sample size only helps a character's case if they manage to win all of them.

This is the fight that takes the off screen confrontation and shows you how it would've gone down if Otto's lackey did pull out his gun. Walter knocked out the first one in one punch. The second one had a gun and we see Walter disarm him then knock him out. This is all in the span of not even 30 seconds. The raw power of hitting someone with his bare fist is enough to knock them out. The offensive ability in this scene is simply unlike anything we've seen in an Elvis movie.

This final fight is the most important fight. It shows how much Walter has improved in a matter of months. After all he wins a bunch of fights before it's even the 4th of July. Labor Day is only 2 months after that so Walter only had two months or so to officially train for this. The match went into its 4th round, by far the longest fight shown in the movie. Each round lasts 3 minutes long non-stop. While Walter still takes more blows to the face than he really should, his blocking ability has improved. His reactions have gotten quicker as well. At some point during the 4th round, Walter knocks out Sugar Boy, winning the match. He would retire from boxing, remaining undefeated.

I have never felt more conflicted about how to judge someone's fighting ability until now. Based on wins, Walter's undefeated and that carries a lot of weight. The one thing I seriously question is how realistic it is for him to never get knocked out despite numerous blows to the head. Yes that's the point of boxing, but the average boxer also blocks a lot more than Walter does. Is something like even possible in real life? I feel like if it is it'd be extremely rare and I suppose would be an advantage so long as Walter isn't doing this for multiple years.

Despite his questionable technique, Walter fought against legitimate opponents and won every single fight. And that's what this whole series is about: finding the best fighter. Therefore I put Walter in S tier. He's definitely in the top 5, I can at least say that. I just think it's still too early to crown him as the best fighter since we're barely a third of the way through the list of Elvis characters.

AN: Thanks so much to @arrolyn1114 for providing your analysis on these fights scenes. Also shout out to @thedaisymaisy, @moonchild-daniella, @xanatenshi, and @karel-in-wonderland for watching this movie with me. In some cases multiple times lol.

#walter gulick #elvis fandom #kung fu elvis tidbit #kid galahad #elvis tier list #elvis presley

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sadboytournament · 6 months

Text

ROUND ONE

Propaganda

Adriane Tepes/Alucard: Bro's mom got murdered and his dad went insane and tried to wipe out humanity, and Adrian had to kill him to save everyone. AND THEN he had to deal with people trying to revive his dad to cause even more deaths! Also he's immortal so he's outlived everyone he's ever cared about 😭

Jason Todd: (tw: sexual assault mention) the second robin, gets taken in by bruce after his abusive dad walks out and his mum dies of an overdose (and he also steals the wheels of the batmobile, king). bruce trains him to be robin and for his original run he was a pretty cute kid (with the occasional Angst Arcs that are pretty common w robin - special shoutout to jason finding out his dad was actually killed by two face and he just didnt know, and an arc where a woman that reminds him of his mum gets raped by a guy that iirc has diplomatic immunity i think?? or enough power to get away with it? anyway jason fucking kills him so not that immune ig) then death in the family happened and jason found out his mum isnt his biological mum so he sets off trying to find his bio mum, and eventually he meets her, but shes working for the joker and sells jason out to him. the joker then proceeds to beat jason with a crowbar and blows the building hes in up with his mum also inside it, killing them both. dc then does a fun thing for the next 20 years where they start treating jason like the '"""troubled""" """angry""" robin who was too reckless and was always going to end up dead. eventually dc brings jason back (as dc is wont to do), by having him wake up inside his coffin years after dying, dig his way out with his bare hands, and walk half-dead in the general direction of wayne manor until he's hit by a car and taken to the hospital (where all his says is 'bruce' over and over, and when asked who bruce is he responds 'my dad' and passes out) eventually he ends up in talia al ghul's care and is dunked in a lazarus pit to revive him completely, and he finds out not only is the joker still alive, but batmans also replaced him as robin. jason returns to gotham as red hood and has an honestly pretty slay arc where he taunts bruce by doing a better job of cleaning up gotham than him ngl. eventually it all culminates with him luring batman to a building where hes keeping the joker and telling b that his no kill rule is bullshit, and he shouldve killed the joker for taking jason away from him. he gives bruce an ultimatum thats basically if you dont kill me ill kill the joker, you gotta pick' and bruce chooses to instead disarm jason and save them both, and jason escapes. what follows is a lot of ups and downs for red hood comics (mostly due to the "angry robin" narrative dc writers have spun, making a lot of jasons appearances wildly ooc fights, lots of weird (tragically in character) cringefail behaviour, and this odd period where hes a natural redhead and his helmet is this ugly dome). itd be too long to list every jason todd sadboy moment from the last 20 years here but i do want to give a special shoutout to a currect story arc where bruce (who thinks hes being controlled by a 'perfect batman' hes got in his head) gets sick of jason's """reckless behaviour""" and fucking alters jasons brain chemistry so that whenever his adrenaline rises, he'll have a panic attack so severe hes basically incapacitated and can barely speak through his fear (the instant he escapes bruce's captivity he jumps into a burning building to save a little girl im SOFT for him!!). also second special shoutout to the jason todd in the arkham games who didnt even have the luxury of dying at the jokers hand, and was instead tortured for like 3 years, branded, beaten by p much everyone in batmans rogues gallery (and some of jokers goons dressed as batman), eventually jason breaks himself out only to find out that NOT ONLY has bruce replaced him, but it took the man like. a month. like jason wouldnt be thought dead for a long time, he was missing and bruce just went 'ill let this new kid adopt himself' ig? also theres a vr game in the arkham series where you can go into arkham asylum and hear jason screaming 🙃

#tumble tournaments #the sadboy tourney #alucard #castlevania #jason todd #dc comics

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hellfireghoul · 1 year

Text

The New Fifth Year

Part 3

Ominis Gaunt x f!SlytherinReader

Summary: part 3 of this little series I’ve been writing! Y/N needs somewhere to practise her spell casting away from prying eyes. Both Sebastian and Ominis have just the perfect place in mind.

Warnings: none, maybe a little angsty!

Words: 3.5k ish

Read part 2 here

Your first week at Hogwarts flew by. You found most of your lessons fascinating, and had really managed to get stuck in. You’d even made a good few friends along the way.

Potions was by far your favourite class, not subject, but class. The subject you found somewhat dull, it did not peak your interest as much as say Charms did, but you were fortunately quite good at it. However, you were really starting to look forward to your two lessons a week, mainly because of the company you kept. Sebastian was great fun in that lesson, his impressions of Garreth Weasley had become almost second to none, and you’d all been placing bets on what colour he would send his cauldron that lesson.

“I’m saying a bright blue.” You’d stated confidently.

“Nope, let’s go for a nice shade of puss green.” Sebastian had added, making you scrunch your face up in disgust.

“I’ll say blue too. That’s if there’s any cauldron left by the end of the hour.” Ominis had chimed in dryly, causing you to throw your head back in laughter.

Ominis had seemed to come out of his shell more in Potions, and laughed along more with yours and Sebastian’s antics. He was still reserved, but you just put it down to him being more serious than you two about his education.

Friday you were starting another new subject, Divination. The classes had been slightly delayed due to your Professor being off sick. You’d heard rumours the Professor was one of the students' mothers, but you weren’t sure and didn’t want to go around asking for fear of coming off nosy.

The one thing you were struggling with however, was practical lessons. With very little time and space to practise, and only now joining in your fifth year, you were feeling miles behind your classmates when it came to actual spell casting. You knew you were a good witch, and book smart, but reading a book about disarming charms wasn’t the same as casting them.

Thursday evening, you and Sebastian were just finishing in Defence Against the Dark Arts class, the last class of the day. The two of you had been paired up once again for a duel, you’d managed to beat Sebastian in the first round but he got the upper hand the second. Ominis was with you too, but quickly hurried off once the bell had rang, muttering something about having to get to the Owlry. This left just you and Sebastian.

“Not bad at all there Y/N.” Sebastian complimented, as you made your way out of the classroom.

“Thank you, I just wish I had more time to practise. I feel miles behind everyone.” You said, as the two of you trotted down the marble staircase.

“Oh well..” Sebastian hesitated for a moment, as if he was weighing something up in his mind on the spot. “As it just so happens, I might be able to help you with that.” Sebastian said, coolly. And with that, he stopped at the bottom of the staircase causing an obstruction to your other classmates also leaving the lesson. You had to flatten yourself against him to allow other students to get past, much to your annoyance.

“Sebastian- what do you mean? Why did you stop?” You huffed as someone brushed the back of your bag trying to get past.

Sebastian didn’t say anything, he just raised his eyebrows and his mouth faltered into a sly smile. He backed out of the way of the stairs, increasing the distance between you both and swung around the corner to a dead end.

“Where are you going?” You asked, peering around the staircase.

Sebastian was standing at the bottom of the dead end corridor, in front of one of the many castle windows and what would’ve been an extraordinary clock, but placed together with everything else at Hogwarts, it seemed positively dull in comparison.

“You have to promise me that if I show you this, you won't tell anyone.” He suddenly said, in a more serious whisper.

Your eyes locked onto his, surprised at his sudden change in demeanour and nodded.

“But what are you talking about?” You further asked, not seeing anything special in this corridor other than a maybe slightly different patterned window.

Sebastian gave a final look over your shoulder to ensure that all your classmates had gone, and then produced his wand from his robes, turning his body to the intricate looking clock. Sebastian tapped the clock with his wand, and to your surprise, every cog and hand began moving in opposite directions. With a large thunk, the clock swung ajar, revealing it to be a door. Your eyes widened and you looked up at Sebastian, who gave you a wide grin and gestured to enter.

“Ladies first.” He said, and you gingerly pushed the door open.

Upon entering the hidden passageway, you were brought into a large, open but dimly lit room. It looked as if it had been left somewhat untouched for decades.

“Oh, wow this is.. interesting” You said absentmindedly, much more focused on taking in your surroundings instead.

“It’s perfect isn’t it?” Sebastian said, following you into the dark room with his hands in his pockets.

“Should we even be in here?” You turned suddenly, and Sebastian looked at the floor briefly and shuffled his feet. You knew the answer before you’d even asked.

“Well technically, no. But, on the other hand, no one knows it’s here. So…” He explained, casually.

You nodded slowly, raising your eyebrows slightly impressed.

“So how do you know about this place if it’s so top secret?” You asked, eyes narrowing slightly in the direction of the freckle faced boy.

Sebastian sighed, and almost looked reluctant to give the answer.

“Ominis.” He said, plainly. “His family have known about it for generations. I’m the only person, and now you, to ever know about it outside of his family, which is why I said you mustn’t say anything. Especially not to Ominous himself, he’ll go mad if he thinks I’m telling people about this place.”

“Of course, I won’t tell a soul.” You reassured him, and the room fell silent.

You pondered for a second, pacing up and down and still taking in the empty, dark room.

It was a perfect place for practise, that was for sure. Plenty of floor space to duel an opponent or practise on a dummy.

“So, care for a duel?” Sebastian grinned.

You had both spent the entire of Thursday evening in the Undercroft, throwing a magnitude of spells at each other and blasting different dummies. Sebastian had taught you a few new spells, one being “Expelliarmus”, which he later regretted as you took every opportunity to knock him halfway across the room and catch his wand. (“Really? Again?”)

You were having so much fun in fact, neither of you had been even vaguely aware of the time, and it was only once your stomach started rumbling, you realised you’d both missed dinner.

“Do you think we could sneak down into the kitchens and ask the house elves for something?” Sebastian wondered. Once you had mentioned you were hungry, he began to notice the gnawing ache in his empty stomach too.

“You’re asking me? I’ve been here for a week.” You retorted with a laugh.

“Right,” Sebastian agreed, his brows knitted together in thought. After a small pause, he said

“It will be fine, I’ve been caught doing worse.”

But as you both started for the door to leave, a familiar thunk stopped you in your tracks. Someone was entering the Undercroft.

“I thought you said no one knew about this place?” You hissed to Sebastian, eyes still fixed on the dark entryway.

“They don’t, it can only be-”

Ominis emerged through the darkened entry way just before Sebastian could finish his sentence. He stopped hesitantly, clearly aware the room wasn’t unoccupied.

“Sebastian, Y/N, is that you?” Ominous asked, his wand still up in the air pulsing red light.

Your eyes widened, as did Sebastian's, and you looked over to see his panicked expression, eyes fixated on Ominis standing a good ten feet away.

“Uh yeah, hello Ominis. I was just leaving.” Sebastian replied, clearing his throat and not daring to look back over at you.

“I heard Y/N.” Ominis said, like Sebastian hadn’t spoke.

You eyed Sebastian again, desperate for guidance on what to do or say. He met your fear stricken look and shook his head firmly. The two of you had a non-verbal conversation of panic.

“I heard their voice when I entered, once again you seem to be mistaking my blindness for deafness.” Ominis continued, coldly, and a wave of guilt washed over you.

“Hello, Ominis.” You said, as cheerfully as you could muster. Sebastian shot you a look, but shook your head and shrugged your shoulders as if to say ‘What am I supposed to do?’

Ominis didn’t say anything to your greeting, his mouth seemed to contort into a forced smile and he gave a very curt nod, before turning on his heel and making his way out of the door.

Sebastian immediately leapt forward after him.

“Ominis! Wait! I’m really sorry, she knows it’s a secret place, she won’t tell anyone!” Sebastian pleaded, but the rest of that sentence you never got to hear, as the to boys had disappeared through the entryway back into the Defence Against the Dark Arts corridor. You stood there in the middle of the Undercroft feeling a little lost and terribly guilty. The last thing you wanted to do was cause a rift between friends, even if it was unintentional, and definitely not something you want to be doing in your first week. Sighing deeply, you wrung your hands together nervously and began pacing, unsure whether to follow the two out or wait a few minutes.

You hung on for a few minutes, still pacing when the door to the Undercroft swung open once again, more aggressively this time, causing it to creak loudly and unpleasantly.

Sebastian stormed back in, frustration written all over his face.

“He won’t listen to reason!” He almost shouted as he paced over to the corner to retrieve his bag.

“Sebastian, I feel awful. Is he upset?” You said.

“He’s furious like I’ve never seen him, Y/N. I mean Merlin, he’s acting like I’ve gone and killed one of his family members or something! You will benefit greatly from this room, who cares if it’s some family secret, it’s just some stupid room anyway.” Sebastian huffed and slung his bag onto his shoulder. You didn’t know what to say to this, so you kept quiet, a solemn look of guilt all over your expression. Finally, you said quietly “I’m sure he’ll come round.”

And with that, the two of you left the Undercroft and walked back to the Slytherin Common Room in almost complete silence. Dinner had been long forgotten.

You’d had Potions the next morning, and after the events of last night, the lesson wasn’t fun like it usually was. There was little laughter, the atmosphere feeling icy with Ominis not speaking unless spoken to. Even for the entire lesson, Garreth had managed to not make one thing explode. This must be a new personal record for him, and you were bitterly disappointed that there wasn’t a Weasley shaped distraction to ease the tension. You had offered Ominis some help when you noticed he was struggling to crush his dung beetle with his pesto and mortar. He had uttered something about being completely capable of doing it himself, waving you away, until Professor Sharp had come round and noticed his obvious struggle. You stepped in, and he seemed to soften a little more once you’d stood next to him, grounding up his dung beetle in silence. The slight warmth towards you did not last long however, and did definitely not once extend to Sebastian.

Flying class you were without your two new friends, relieved a little bit to have a break from the horrid tension that sat in the air when the three of you were together. It wasn’t until lunchtime and you’d gone back to the Great Hall when you saw Sebastian again.

“Divination class, 2pm. Goodness, I’m not even sure where to go for that.” You were speaking to yourself and Sebastian just happened to be listening, as you sat opposite each other at the Slytherin table. Ominis had failed to show.

“It’s just above the Gryffindor Common Room.” Sebastian said, swallowing a mouthful of mashed potato.

“And you know where the Gryffindor Common Room is because?”

“Can’t go telling you all my secrets now can I?” He chimed, but still focused on his timetable that lay out in front of him and grabbed another spoonful of mash.

“Oh it’s fine, we can just walk there together anyway.” You sighed, grabbing some food for yourself.

Sebastian looked up at your words. Your spoon full of potatoes were halfway to your mouth when you noticed him looking at you.

“What?” You asked.

“I’m not taking Divination.” Sebastian stated. “Not ever again.”

“What? Why?” You said, half laughing at the way the boy seemed deeply offended at your assumption.

“That class is a load of old tosh,” He said, casually leaning back away from his plate and the table. “Honestly, you call reading a bunch of manky tea leaves in the bottom of a tea cup magic? It’s ridiculous if you ask me. No, I’d rather take the free period.”

After many directions given from Sebastian, you found your way to Divination. You weren’t sure what you’d expected Divination class to entail, but you certainly weren’t expecting it to be in a blasting hot attic with the only access to the room being a flimsy rope ladder. You weren’t sure you were even in the right place until Poppy Sweeting yelled down the hatch, beckoning you to come up.

As Poppy had called down to you, a set of footsteps were making their way up behind you. Ominis.

“Oh, why are we waiting out here?” He asked, and you had the distinct feeling he didn’t know it was you from the sheer normalcy of his voice.

You cleared your throat to announce your presence, and instantly saw his demeanour alter. Was it annoyance? Discomfort? Or was he blushing? You couldn’t tell.

“Oh, we’re not, I’m just about to climb up. I’m just not too fond of ladders at the best of times.” You uttered quietly, flushing crimson, embarrassed at your slight confession but thought it served as an honest explanation as to why you were dithering at the bottom of the hatch.

“Would you like a hand?” Ominis suddenly offered, the icy tone in his voice not completely disappearing but faltering. Eyes widening with shock and embarrassment, you quickly declined. Maybe too quick, so that it came across as unintentionally rude.

Horror stricken by the series of events that had just taken place, you cautiously made your way up the ladder, silently wondering why on Earth this couldn’t just be a normal classroom with a normal door.

Professor Onai had announced the seating plan, you and Ominis had been seated together in the back corner of the small circular classroom.

The two of you were silent as you settled yourself down onto the plump cushions on the floor.

After listening to introductions and a brief demonstration, Professor Onai announced that you were to pair up with the person next to you, and read their tea leaves.

Brilliant.

You followed Onai’s instructions and drained your cup, leaving only black, small tea leaves littering the bottom of the tea cup. Clearing your throat, you pushed the cup towards Ominis, who seemed deeply interested in studying the floor.

He looked up slightly at you pushing your cup towards him, and looked as if he wanted to say something, but thought better of it.

You spoke suddenly, unable to bear the silence.

“I’m sorry Ominis. I know you’re upset Sebastian told me but, he was just trying to help me out. I understand why you’re angry. I won’t tell a soul about the Undercroft, I promise.” You spoke softly and quietly, ensuring no one around you could hear.

Ominis’s features softened at your words, but he still looked unsettled, unhappy.

“I am not angry at you Y/N, if that’s what you think. I don’t have an issue with you using the room, quite the contrary actually. I just…” He trailed off, and at that moment, Professor Onai approached your table, asking if the two of you needed any help.

“No Professor, we’re okay. I’m just… consulting the meanings behind what I’m seeing.” You lied.

“Make sure you do not rush this process Miss Y/L/N. Master Gaunt, I trust you are able to use your wand to help you interpret Miss Y/L/N’s leaves?” Professor Onai asked.

“Yes, Professor.” Ominis murmured, and with a swift nod, she floated away to check on Leander and Poppy.

Ominis cleared his throat, continuing.

“I am not angry you are using the room, I wanted you to use it. I just wish… I’d have been the one to show you it.” He stammered slightly at his words.

“Merely because, you know, it’s my family secret. It’s not Sebastian's secret to be telling.” He added quickly, in a sharper tone than before.

You nodded and hummed in understanding.

“Of course, Ominis. I do sincerely apologise.” You said. “I really hope you can make up with Sebastian.”

Ominis nodded thoughtfully. With the tension eased and the atmosphere feeling much more relaxed, you leant over and grabbed Ominis’s teacup with a grin.

“So let’s see what’s in your future.” You mocked in a silly voice, earning a small chuckle from Ominis which made you smile even more.

You flipped his teacup multiple ways, unable to decipher anything more than a clumped up mess of damp, black blotches. You knotted your brows, suddenly not being fond of actually being bad at this class.

“Hmm, well. If I were to take a complete shot in the dark,” you began, holding Ominis’s tea cup now at a very awkward angle, dramatically squinting and peering over at the Divination interpretation book you had open on the table, “I’d say, it seems as if you’re to have a lousy beginning to your month. An accident maybe? Oh no-” You stopped, leaning down now at your book and taking your reading more seriously. Ominis was sat chuckling opposite you, seemingly very amused at how serious you were suddenly taking it.

“Okay, no, not an accident, but maybe a bad start. However…” You returned back to consulting your book, becoming increasingly frustrated. “However it would seem by the end of the month, new opportunity is blooming and new, strong relationships are in the makings. Hm.”

You leant back as you finished your prediction.

“How very vague my tea leaves are.” Ominis quipped, the slight smile never really leaving his expression.

You giggled at this, leaning fully back now and crossing your arms.

“Okay, your turn. Just tell me that I’m not going to get eaten by a giant Acromantula or something?”

By the time Divination had finished, you and Ominis were on friendly terms again, and you couldn’t help but notice just how playful Ominis had been in that lesson. Did he just perhaps not take Divination seriously? (You couldn’t blame him) As he did the rest of his classes, whilst you and Sebastian messed around?

You had insisted you go down the rope ladder first, in an attempt to save yourself the embarrassment of Ominis being stood at the bottom and you fumbling around for the next wooden step of the ladder. He had offered multiple times to go first and help you down, insisting there was nothing to be embarrassed about (”Y/N, I literally can’t see you”), but you were absolutely mortified by the notion and firmly held your ground.

The corridor was pleasantly much cooler than the Divination classroom, the late afternoon sun tucking away behind the clouds now. The two of you trotted down the stairs, laughing about how at least five people in the class today alone had predicted their own deaths.

“It’s just such a ridiculous class, I’m sorry. I really didn’t think it would be as bad as everyone was saying. I hope crystal ball reading requires more actual magical talent.” You laughed as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

Ominis laughed with you, until he suddenly slowed his pace to almost a stop.

“Y/N, I was wondering actually, if you’d mind awfully accompanying me to Hogsmeade next Saturday?” Ominis asked, a hint of caution in his voice.

“Oh, I didn’t realise it was a Hogsmeade weekend next week. Of course, I’d love to!” You responded, cheerily.

Ominis smiled, and stated that it was settled. The two of you made your way back to Slytherin Common Room, making up more possible ridiculous predictions that could occur in your tea leaves.

Part 4 will be coming! Thank you for reading I know it’s long

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow x reader #slytherin reader #sebastian sallow

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noneatnonedotcom · 5 months

Text

alternate jaune weapons

@heliosthegriffin figured i should actually discribe the weapons of other jaune's assuming they actually use them. first up is the golden blade: since he doesn't get the added speed boost and mythic feats super hero jaune does most of what he can do comes from his sword, and scabard. his scabard gives him regeneration 5 and endless so he's effectively immortal so long as no one takes it from him. his sword on the other hand is a bastard sword with impact, dueling, and valiant on it. it also counts as a rod of splendor making his charisma super human (this jaune also picked up almost exclusively charisma boosting items to help out and eventually found a tome of leadership and influence +5) all together jaune's charisma should be 41 in this au, but keep in mind that's at the end of the build. at level ten it should be more like 30. still really fucking high but that's just a headband of alluring charisma, which this jaune exclusively upgraded. this makes not only intimidation far easier but makes his civilian persona much more influential. all in all it's pretty simple but the sword does 2d8 damage every swing with an extra 1d6 if he challenged that person before hand. and a solid +4 to disarm and feinting, attempts from dueling and valient. with a +6 on defence against those same checks, and a +4 on initiative checks. keep in mind this weapon has no enhancement bonuses though.

oddly enough the sword itself can only be used by a hero. so golden blade's weapon requires he be lawful and not evil. but being heroic doesn't mean being nice and if this jaune can end a fight before it begins he'll do it

superhero jaune has the handwraps of mighty deeds. having no other weapons or bonuses he's invested a lot in these, giving them a +5 enhancement bonus and the holy and merciful traits. this means the weapons give a plus 5 to attack rolls and damage rolls and with his superhero costume (monks robes) his unarmed attacks now do 1d8+5+ 3d6 against evil creatures, (evil being selfish beings so most creatures are evil that;s just how it goes lol) and that's before adding in all of the bonuses of his build. wizzard jaune has mainly spent his money on his spells but he does have a +3 revolver with a bandolier that telliports the bullets into his gun meaning he doesn't ever have to take time to reload. he is limited to only 200 rounds at a time though. but some of them have enchanted effects on them so they can do some wacky shit. everyone else is either utterly unarmed or using common weapons/ magical bullshit to handle everything.

that good for unique weapons? i tried to limit them to only what they would invest money into and gave golden blade jaune a boost to show that he's been at this longer and has more money to throw at magical items as a result.

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trashlord-007 · 2 years

Note

The one and only Lee Dong Wook

(For your ask game)

heyheyhey, I’m pretty sure I know who sent this and Ily <3 [1.1k wc]

Lee Dong Wook x Fem!Reader

Auction + Mafia AU || His for the night

“One million.” Sealing your fate, the man you've grown to hate cuts through the crowd, his voice authoritative and unyielding. “I bid one million.”

Silence falls over the room as everyone turns to look at him. Their stares don’t faze him. Cold eyes linger on you as he drinks in your visage. A shiver crawls down your spine. It’s a look you know all too well. He hasn’t come to play and he won’t back down no matter the cost. In his mind you're already his regardless of the result of some charity auction sham.

“Sold! To Number 114! If you’ll both please proceed to the back to finalise the transaction. Now, onto the next, we have a star in the making, Ms. Kim…”

The announcer fades into the background as you brush aside the curtain and enter the dim backroom. Inside are several tables with some of the prior ‘purchases’ setting terms for the date they’re being forced onto. Some seem happy, perhaps riding on the high of philanthropy, while others seem bored. Spending time with fans is a hassle and anyone that has been in the biz long enough knows that.

And yet you'd give everything to be in their shoes.

A stout man with round glasses and a pink nose beckons you. While you can’t see him, your attention focused on the looming pile of paperwork ahead, you can sense your suitor hot on your tail. His cologne surrounds you, engulfing you in the memory of him, reminding you of the fateful mistake you made.

As you slow, your fingers brushing against the metal of the chair’s back, his arm wraps around your side. Jolting away from the sudden contact, you instead bump into his chest. He’s firm and toned and isn’t at all what you might expect of a man in his position.

When you first met, his charm disarmed you. You like to think you know him better now, that you're privy to his tricks, but there’s something dangerous in his gaze as he stares down upon you, staring right through you.

Pulling out your chair, he gestures for you to sit. Ever the gentleman, always putting up pretences. He’s a scourge on this Earth.

“Thank you,” you force out through gritted teeth.

“Of course, darling.”

Bile rises in your throat from the harmless pet name.

Oblivious to the situation, the paralegal begins shuffling through the documents, pulling out the contract he had pre-drafted. “Shall we get started?”

Blood red. That’s the colour painted on your lips. It matches the dark aesthetic of your outfit and complements the eyeshadow your assistant chose for you. It’s a publicity stunt more than a real date and you’re determined to treat it as such. You won’t give him the satisfaction of treating it any other way.

Slipping on your red heels, you sigh. The contract says you only need to spend two hours with him. That’s two hours too many. Mr. Lee isn’t a man to trifle with, even for just a few hours. If you aren’t careful, you’ll find yourself embroiled within something much deeper, much darker.

Steadfast in your desire to disappoint, you stand tall and spin once in front of the three-panel floor mirror. You frown. Visually you’ll always turn heads. As such, you don’t bother to dress down. The Chanel black dress hugs you in all the right places. It’s a bold choice, but so is your lipstick, your heels, your clutch – all red as cherries.

Bringing a manicured nail to your neck, you tap while deep in thought. It needs a little more spice, something to proclaim your elite status. Turning from the large mirrors with an elegant twirl, you sit at your dresser. Makeup products clutter the space, and off to the side is a small lockbox.

Punching in the code, you grab the first necklace you see. Diamonds and rubies combine to create a centrepiece most will never have the honour of gazing upon in person. You know it’s overkill but you have a sneaking suspicion that your ‘date’ will try to make a show of presenting you a gift. If you wear your best then his own will pale in comparison. Yours is, after all, a luxury piece. It’s the kind of extravagance that leads to a revolution and a royal beheading.

Donning the sparkling jewellery, you position it over the peekaboo window, letting it nestle between your breasts. You know the paparazzi will capture it on camera before you even have a chance to enter the establishment. They have an unnatural knack for photographing your body before your face, saving the headshots for when you’re almost out of range and settling for unnatural angles of the side or back of your head. If it’ll benefit you now, however, you’ll forgive them their prior trespasses.

The last thing you want is for anyone to think Mr. Lee had a hand in getting you your most treasured valuable.

Your phone buzzes on the bedside table. Glancing at the clock beside it, the time reads ten minutes to eight o’clock. The dinner is at nine. At least officially. It’s for charity, though, and you know you’ll be expected to make a show of it: run into an interviewer along the way, give a small speech on how excited you are and how happy you are to support whatever the fundraiser was, spend some time chatting with Mr. Lee before you even reach the table. You’ll need to head out early if you want to leave anytime before midnight.

With a final, quick touchup and some adjustments to the dress, you grab your phone and slip it inside your clutch. Everything you need for the night is inside: your credit card and ID, a miniature packet of mints, and a small vial of roll-on parfum. It’s the bare essentials. Any less and you’d feel vulnerable… though considering who you’re meeting, it might be better to ditch it all and bring a knife instead.

Headlights shine through your bedroom window. He’s here. Shoving your uneasiness back down into your gut, you straighten your posture. With your head held high, you descend the stairs one by one, the click of your heels against the marble resounding through the foyer. Once you reach the ground level, the doorbell rings. It’s thunderous. Despite knowing it was coming, it still sends a tremble down your spine.

It’s just a few hours.

You can handle him for a few hours.

Send Me An Idol / Character && I’ll Tell You Which AU/Trope Suits Them

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