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holylulusworld · 8 months

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Triad (1) - Kinktober 20

Summary: You are everything to them.

Pairing: Omega!Stucky x Alpha!(fem)Reader

Rating: Mature

Square filled for @stuckybingo (Round 5): Square O5: AU: A/B/O

Square filled for stuckybingo (Round 4): I4: AU: A/B/O

Warnings: future mmf relationship, established mm relationship, meet cute, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, scenting, needy Bucky & Steve, dominant reader, dom/sub undertones

Kink: Dom / Sub

A/N: I decided to turn this request into a mini-series. It will consist of drabbles telling us more about their story.

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Triad masterlist

It was an ordinary autumn day when you met Steve and Bucky for the first time. They went for a stroll in the park, holding hands as you passed them by.

Until then, they were lost in their love and bond.

That was until a whiff of their mixed scents hit you out of nowhere. Your head snapped toward the pair, and your eyes began to glow.

The omegas immediately turned their attention toward you and your scent. It had been ages since they scented a female alpha. The last one was Peggy Carter; the one that got away.

Bucky and Steve tried to find their missing piece in male alphas too. But male alphas only tried to dominate them in the wrong way in the past.

While being super soldiers, your omegas were looking for a soft dominant helping them to give up control.

Bucky was a little bold in the beginning. He purred in your direction and flashed you a cocky grin. Steve was a little shyer but followed his mate when Bucky almost pounced on you.

The needy omega tried to scent you without your allowance, and you had to stop him. A confident “stop” left your lips and Bucky stopped in his tracks.

He whimpered and rubbed his hand over his growing erection. Steve only looked at you and whined as you turned to leave.

You didn’t want to get involved with two bonded omegas. Polyamory wasn’t in your plans.

“Wait,” Bucky pleaded. “Alph-“ He bit his tongue as he looked at you.

“I’m not your alpha,” you replied and gave him an apologetic look. “It’s only your instinct, sweetie.”

He dipped his head to glance at your untouched mating gland.

Bucky licked his lips, already forming a plan to get you to talk to them some more.

“Hi,” Steve tried to make you stay a little longer. “I’m Steve, and that’s my mate, Bucky.”

“Bucky. Hmm…that’s an odd name,” you teased, making Steve chuckle. “A nickname I assume.”

“His name is James.”

“He is here,” Bucky grumbled as you talked to his mate, not him. “Now, uh-alpha…”

“Buck—” Steve gasped audibly. Not once did his mate call someone alpha. “You can’t call her that. We don’t even know her.”

The blonde tried to stop his mate from pouncing at you, still, he took a step toward you and sniffed in your direction.

“Stevie, she’s our alpha,” the brunette insisted. He puckered his lips and batted his long lashes. Bucky had the power to make you weak from the beginning. And he still has this power over you. “You can feel it too, right?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Steve took another step toward you. He tried to sniff in your direction again, but you raised your hand and stopped him. “I did not allow you to scent me.”

“Uh-sorry. You just smell so good, alph-“ Steve cleared his throat and wrung his hands.

For an omega, he was a glorious sight. Tall, with broad shoulders, and a thick beard framing his face he was all you want in an omega. Still, he had to earn his place next to you.

This time, you took a step toward the blonde. You sized him up and huffed. “I see no alpha ever tamed you, and your mate. You need an alpha making sure you don’t lose control all the time.”

“I’m not some puppy you can train,” Bucky complained, but stepped closer to you again.

“Sweetness, I didn’t talk about training you to become my puppy. But you almost pounced on me. A stranger. What if I had ulterior motives and hurt you or your mate? You cannot get lost in your instinct.”

“We are sorry,” Steve said, gaze dropping to his shoes.

“Hmm…” you turned your head toward Bucky to get a better look at him. He was a tall and attractive omega too. His blue eyes searched your face as he struggled to hold your gaze. “You need an alpha taking care of you. A good alpha knows how to handle two bratty omegas…and I'm a good alpha...”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #a/b/o #buckybarnesbingo2023 #stucky x reader #Triad (1) - Kinktober 20 #omega!steve rogers #omega!bucky barnes #alpha!reader #omega!stucky #stucky #steve and bucky #steve x bucky #fem!reader #stucky x female reader

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hikarry · 5 months

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Aziraphale and Crowley plan a vacation free of miracles, just for the heck of it. Just to do it the way humans do. Maybe it's fun! Maybe they will have a grand old time! Who knows?

It all starts with packing.

Aziraphale is the very first to regret this idea as soon as he opens his bag on top of the bed, ready to pack. They can only take so many bags because they are going on the Bentley, and no miracles means no calling books through space with a single snap of his fingers. So...one bag is not enough, surely.

"Oh, but it is, angel. Max one bag for clothes and one bag for books, nothing more."

"But Crowley, that's absurd! We'll be in Scotland for 2 weeks! Am I supposed to take, what? 5 books? And how am I supposed to choose?"

"This 'no miracles' trip was your idea. Now deal with it."

Aziraphale deals with it, but not without a lot of complaining and making a list of pros and cons of taking every single one of his favorite books. He ends up with a bag full of them and a couple more in the clothes bag.

This is to say that Crowley doesn't have an easier time. No miracles means no miracling his own clothes, so he's got to actually pack something. And he likes most of his clothes. And you never know what type of events will be around. A restaurant? A play? He needs outfits. Good outfits. And a toothbrush. And shampoo and conditioner, cause he refuses to use the ones from the hotel. And hair gel! Cause no miracles also means no miracling his hair into being in shape...doing his hair every morning will be an absolute pain in the arse, but he can endure it. Yet, when he goes to close his bag...it's too full. Taking two bags of clothes would be ridiculous, so he lays his hand on the bag and pushes down, trying to run the zipper. Nothing happens. He sighs and sits on the bag, pulling the zipper once again, and it runs for a couple of millimeters.

"Angel, give me a hand, will you?"

"With what, dear?"

"I'll sit on the bag and also push it down with my hands and you will try to close the zipper." He opens his legs so Aziraphale can access the bag's zipper and he jumps once on his bag, pushing down with his hands.

Aziraphale almost breaks the bloody zipper, but it does indeed close.

With the bags in the Bentley and both seated on their usual positions, Crowley lays his hands on the steering wheel, but doesnt start the car just yet, instead looking ahead.

"Everything alright?"

"...does 'no miracles' mean I can't keep the tank of the Bentley full?"

"I suppose."

"Aziraphale, I haven't gone to a gas station since I got the bloody James Bond stickers!"

"And when was that?"

"Many, many decades ago."

"Oh well, I'm sure getting fuel in a car isn't that difficult. It mustn't have changed since back then."

"Are you sure we can't make an exception?"

"Quite."

"...is this because of the books?"

"Mmh."

Crowley groans and goes to start the car, but he stops short of the ignition.

"Are you...keeping the Bentley whole with miracles? Is that the new problem, my dear?"

"No." He looks up at the angel. "I have to buy a phone charger."

"Whatever for?"

"Because I keep my phone charged with miracles, angel! And I have absolutely zero idea where the original charger is! I never used it! With a bit of luck its still somewhere in Mayfair."

"Oh well, we will stop at a phone shop then. Easy fix."

The demon takes a deep breath, and off they go, on their road trip to Scotland at very not legal speeds - not for lack of complaining on the angel's side, mind you.

When they get to Edinburgh, they quickly find their hotel and go up to their room. Both take showers and, hell, it's still mid afternoon, so they go for a stroll around.

At about dinner time, Crowley quickly googles restaurants nearby and finds one named "Angels with Bagpipes". As soon as he sees it, he stops scrolling. It's somewhat modern and certainly different from the Ritz, but, Satan, look at that name! They just couldn't not go.

"You're joking, certainly." Aziraphale looks over his shoulder. "Look at that other one! Rhubarb. It looks so much more-"

"Posh?"

The angel eyes him side ways.

"I was going to say classy. Romantic."

Crowley snorts.

"Oh this is a romantic vacation, is it?"

"No!" He slaps his arm. "I mean-! Yes! Just-" He runs a hand down his face while Crowley keeps laughing. "Oh, hush. I'm just saying that one looks way more up our alley. That one is too modern."

"I'm down with modern. Big fan of modern, me."

"Oh, believe me, my dear, I'm extremely aware, but-"

"And! For a restaurant as posh as that I bet we need reservations. And you know what we don't have?" Crowley wiggles his fingers. "Reservations. Or miracles to get said reservations."

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, trying to suppress an exasperated sigh. Crowley was ridiculous. How in all the heavens did he put up with him through all these years will forever be a mystery.

"Alright. Let's go to the other one."

Crowley smiles, victorious, and offers him his arm, which Aziraphale promptly takes.

"An angel and a demon walk into a restaurant named 'Angels with Bagpipes'-"

"Crowley!"

And off they go, down the streets of Edinburgh. They have dinner and Aziraphale only complains until the food is served. Afterwards he appears quite content to stuff his face with appetizers and whatnot all while under the watchful eye of Crowley that keeps sipping his wine silently, one elbow on the table, while under said table his leg pushes against Aziraphale's.

"Do behave yourself, will you?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, angel." He uses his foot to slightly slide up Aziraphale's leg.

"We are in public."

"Your point?"

Aziraphale closes his legs, trapping Crowley's foot in between them.

"That's my point."

Crowley pouts, pulling his leg away.

"Boring, you are."

The meal proceeds with little to no incidents. Just the usual: Aziraphale utterly enjoying his food and Crowley watching him as he is enraptured by the flavors and its, honest to Satan, impossible to look away. Not to mention the satisfied wiggles. And the moans. It can pass 6000 more years, but Crowley will never ever get used to those.

"Angel."

"Yes, my dear?"

"Do you have money?" Aziraphale suddenly drops his fork and looks up at Crowley, mouth hanging open. "Thought so."

"Heavens, what are we going to do? We can surely miracle it, right? This is an emergency."

"Nop. You didn't let me miracle the fuel so no miracling the money either."

"You paid for the fuel."

"My last pounds, yes."

The angel's eyes widen quite comically.

"You must be joking."

"No. No joke. Last bills in my wallet." He sloshes the wine inside his glass, leaning closer towards Aziraphale. "And I bet this is all quite the price too. What do we do, Aziraphale? Leave by the back like criminals?"

"There's no back and we are not criminals! We need to miracle the money!"

"That's against the rules." He points at the angel, raising an eyebrow over his sunglasses. "Your rules, might I add."

"No-! Crowley!" He also leans closer to the demon and whispers. "We need to do it. We are not criminals."

"I'm a demon. I guess I can be considered a criminal at some extent."

"You're being ridiculous."

"I'm playing by the rules."

"You're insufferable."

"And yet you still love me."

Aziraphale sighs and closes his eyes, trying to think about a solution, when he hears footsteps approaching.

"Have you finished your dessert, sirs?" The waiter asks, stopping right in front of the table.

"We have." Crowley is quick to answer, and Aziraphale kicks him under the table. He was not done yet, and he needed more time to think about a solution!

"Are you ready to pay?"

Crowley looks at Aziraphale, very serious, and Aziraphale can feel the sweat accumulating on his hands. Oh lord, they had no money. And they just ate a 3 course meal. I mean, Aziraphale ate. Crowley mostly dabbled on the soup and spent the rest of the meal drinking. Drinking quite old and expensive red wine, at that.

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, then at the waiter - who is smiling very politely at them - and then back at the demon. Crowley raises his eyebrow again while Aziraphale starts to shake. He was about to pop when Crowley snorts and reaches for his wallet, pulling a black card and handing it to the waiter, who accepts it and walks away. Aziraphale gasps.

"You had money!"

"Technically no. I had a card."

"A card with money!"

"I never said I didn't have a card. I said I didn't have bills. Physical money. I did use my last bills at the station."

Aziraphale kicks him under the table again, and Crowley can't hold it anymore and starts laughing as controlled as he can.

"Oh, I hate you, you fiend!"

"You've been telling yourself that for 6000 years and you're yet to believe it." The waiter returns with the card and leaves just as fast. "Shall we go back?"

"Yes. But I won't forgive you for this."

"Ah, yes. You. The one that throws 'I forgive yous' through the wind."

"Crowley!"

"Joking. I'm joking." He gets up and Aziraphale follows him. When they get through the door, Crowley offers him his arm once again and leans in closer. A whisper just Aziraphale could hear. "I have my methods to make you forgive me. Just let us get to the hotel, angel."

Alas, the day was not ready to give them a break. On their way to the hotel, it suddenly started raining heavily, soaking both of them to the bone.

"I don't believe this!"

"A little miracle would come in handy right about now, eh?" Aziraphale sighs and snaps his fingers, summoning a tartan umbrella to his hand, which he promptly opens, covering both of them. "Angel!"

"Hush. We can start over tomorrow. Now, let's go." He grabs Crowley by the arm and starts pulling him.

"What's the rush? It's not like we can get sick."

"Someone promised me something when we got to our hotel room." The angel looks over his shoulder to the demon for a second, still walking up the street.

Crowley smiles.

"And you just have to run to find out whatever it is."

"Color me curious."

They did get to the hotel quite fast, and the first thing they did was peel away from their drenched clothes and jump in the shower. Whatever happened in there is between the angel, the demon, and the white tiles on the wall.

#once again supposed to be a small lil thing but got out of my hand #crowley just had to tease Aziraphale he wasnt having it any other way #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #anthony j crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction

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youvebeenlivingfictional · 7 months

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Worrywart

Notes: Okay not all of my prompt replies are going to be ANYWHERE near this long probably BUT this has been sitting in my drafts for a while AND will technically contain the ask from this anon for kiss prompts:

I hope you enjoy, nonnie

Warnings: Fluff! Domestic Bond and Pup from the Old Dog ‘Verse

Summary: Regardless of having his own place, Bond hardly ever occupies it. His mail (the little bit that he gets) is directed to your flat. He has no clothing at his flat; M's bulldog token to him now sits on your mantle, beneath the television, beside the framed picture of Holly and Bernard in their Christmas costumes.

"Are we getting up?"

"...Not yet," Comes James grumbling answer. It's mumbled against the nape of your neck as his arm tightens around your middle.

"We'll have to at some point," You glance back, "Holly and Bernard need to be walked."

"They're still asleep."

"How do you know that?"

"They'd be scratching at the door if they weren't. They're as impatient as you are."

"Really?" You smile, "I think they take after their father in that respect." You squirm as James pokes your middle.

"It's too early to bicker, Pup."

"I don't think it's ever too early for that."

James hushes you, snuggling closer.

"I've just gotten back, love. I'm not in the mood."

Your teasing goes soft with the endearment. You hesitate before you shift, rolling over to face him. Once he realizes that you're not rushing to get up, James loosens his grip just enough to allow you to adjust. He smooths his hand up under your shirt as you settle back down. His eyes are still closed; his blonde head is dimly haloed by the sunlight pushing in through the curtains behind him. You raise a hand to cup his roughening cheek, careful to avoid touching the small cut on his cheekbone.

"...You didn't tell me how it went," You murmur.

"It's not important.”

"It is to me."

"...It was fine."

"James."

“Don’t be such a worrywart.”

He turns his head, brushing his lips along your palm. You push a soft sigh out through your nose, closing your eyes. The two of you lay there in the early morning quiet, settling back into sleepiness for a little while. When you hear the scratching at the door, you lift your head, glancing back toward it. You grin as James groans, turning his head and pressing his face into the pillow.

"I've got them,"You offer.

"Hang on,"James uses his grip on you to tug you closer. His eyes are still closed, and you smile as his lips blindly seek out yours. He brushes a kiss to your chin, your cheek.

"You've almost got it—you've almost—" You giggle, grinning when his lips finally smooth over yours. You curl your fingers under his jaw, kissing James warmly. The touches linger, lips slipping tenderly along one another's—until you hear Holly whine.

"Okay," You murmur, drawing back from James, "I can't hear that, it breaks my heart."

"You're such a soft-touch these days," James sighs, flopping back in bed. You reach down, tweaking his nose before you stand, heading for the dresser. You get changed into joggers and a comfy sweater before you sit on the edge of the bed to pull on socks. You have to fight the urge to giggle as James' foot nudges along your thigh.

"Having fun back there?"You ask.

"Get back quickly."

"So bossy. We'll see what the babies want to do."

"Must I bat my eyelashes and say please?"

You roll your eyes, turning to look at James, and grinning when you find him gazing at you sleepily.

"I'll put the coffee on before I go out," You reach down, patting his calf before standing.

When the puppies (they're not really puppies anymore, but they'll always be puppies to you) charge back into the apartment, you hear the scratching and scrambling of paws charging for the kitchen.

"You're lucky it wasn't raining out," You call out as you shrug out of your coat.

"Oh?"

"Mm. I'd've had to wipe down their paws. I'd be making you mop up the floor right now."

"I checked before I put their food out."

"Good boy, old dog," You tease as you stroll into the kitchen. James shakes his head a little bit, a smile adorning his lips as you lean in for a gentle peck. James' arm snakes around your middle, tugging you closer before you can pull away. He groans softly as the kiss grows deeper, his tongue slipping between your lips. You loop your arms around his shoulders, gently pressing them into his skin before drawing away. You smile, sliding a hand up into his sleep-mussed hair.

"Love that you've neglected a shirt this morning," You tease.

"The apartment's warm enough."

"Mm. Giving the neighbors an eyeful."

James chuckles, nudging your nose with his.

"Don’t be jealous. Coffee?"

"Please."

James lets go of you just long enough to push a mug closer to you on the counter.

"You're a saint," You mutter, stepping back.

"Innumerable sources would disagree with you," James comments, heading for the fridge. You push yourself back to sit on the counter, glancing over to where Holly and Bernard are chowing down.

"I'm surprised you're up," You admit.

"Of course I'm up. I was told there would be coffee."

You smile, watching James putter around the kitchen. He still has his own flat, but it’s simply to keep up appearances at HQ. It's all for show; Mallory is more than aware of your entanglement with the double oh these days. He hasn't acknowledged it openly, but in your time working as a handler, you've come to recognize his displeasure or disapproval with a look. You'd had one such a look when you'd returned from your brief excursion helping Breanna. Of course, that disapproval may've been related to your undertaking a non MI6-related mission and potentially endangering a relationship with a foreign government by acting alone...Or it would've be interpreted as such, if Mallory's eyes hadn't darted from the back of Bond's head, then to you, narrowing slightly in the process.

Regardless of having his own place, Bond hardly ever occupies it. His mail (the little bit that he gets) is directed to your flat. All of his clothing is in your dresser and closet; M's bulldog token to him now sits on your mantle, beneath the television, beside the framed picture of Holly and Bernard in their Christmas costumes.

"How hungry are you?" He asks.

"Slightly...Don't forget, we're going to Eve’s tonight for dinner."

Bond grunts, and you can't help but grin in turn.

"C'mon, you love it, really," You tease, "It's good for you to socialize, old dog."

James shoots you a sidelong glance as he rifles through the fridge before he turns back, taking out the eggs, bread, milk, and setting them on the counter.

"What are you making, then?" You press.

"French toast."

"You're too good to me."

“There you are—Christ, hurry in,” Eve insists. “You look half-drowned.”

“I couldn’t get away from the office,” You sigh, “And then once I did, I couldn’t get an uber. They kept cancelling.” You shrug out of your coat, glancing down at your damp top. Maybe Moneypenny has one that you could borrow.

“About time,” Bond drawls from down the hall. You cast him an irritate glance, grumbling, “Don’t you start.”

His amused smile drops away as he gets a proper look at you, and he straightened up, sliding past Eve. You watch as he pulls his jumper off, his undershirt untucking slightly and revealing a thin strip of his belly.

“Bond,” You sigh softly as he steps closer, gesturing for you to remove your damp top. You glance toward an amused Eve, her grin wide as James shields your body with his. You hurriedly remove your shirt, hanging it up beside your coat before you let Bond pull the warm jumper down over your head. You catch on the scent of his cologne as he does, reveling in the warmth of him as you push your arms through the sleeves.

“You’re such a worrywart.”

“I should’ve brought you a spare,” Bond grumbles to himself as he draws the thick fabric down over your sides.

“You couldn’t have known I’d need one.” You gaze him with a warm, chastising smile before you reach up, cupping his cheek. “Thank you.”

James leans in, giving you a warm, gentle kiss before drawing away, his warm nose nudging your chilled one.

“My god, Bond,” Moneypenny sighs, leading the way into her living room. “Who knew you were such a romantic?”

#James Bond x Reader #James Bond x You #James Bond/Reader #James Bond/You #James Bond fic #James Bond imagine #Old Dog

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eclipsedzs · 1 year

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𝗪𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘄𝗼𝗹𝗳 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝗯𝗹𝗲𝗺𝘀²

𝗘𝗖𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗦𝗘𝗗 ▰▰▰▱▱▱ Volume: Remus Lupin

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

𝗣𝗿𝘁 𝟭

Genre:✓✘

Paring(s): Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Summary: Where remus lupin freaks out when his girlfriend slips up that she knows he was..in fact..a werewolf

Disclaimer(s): Angst, Fighting, Cursing

THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED felt strange and unsettling for the couple, leaving them both yearning for the assurance that their bond remained intact.

The entire school sensed the shifting dynamics of their relationship, aware that they were once regarded as the epitome of an extraordinary couple.

However, ever since Y/N had discovered Remus's secret and their ensuing disagreement, a heavy silence had settled between them, robbing them of their usual intimacy.

They resorted to avoiding each other's presence in the grandeur of the great hall, the once-shared moments of strolling and sitting together now relegated to distant memories. In classes, they deliberately chose separate seats, maintaining an emotional chasm between them.

Only fleeting glances, exchanged when one of them thought the other wasn't looking, bore witness to their lingering affection, a poignant acknowledgment of the love they still harbored amidst the palpable distance.

The impact of the shift was most deeply felt by James, Peter, and Sirius. What used to be days brimming with laughter, mischief, and shared plans now hung heavy with the weight of a brooding Remus and the palpable confusion of his friends.

One day, as the collective patience of James, Sirius, and Peter wore thin, James finally mustered the courage to confront his sullen friend. "Come on, Moony, you have to tell us what happened," he pleaded, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and genuine concern.

In a show of solidarity, Sirius and Peter nodded in agreement from their respective beds, their eyes reflecting their shared desire to understand and offer solace to the troubled soul that resided within their once vibrant and lively dormitory.

With a heavy groan, Remus reluctantly shifted from his sprawled position on the bed, his body seemingly weighed down by the weight of his emotions. "She knows, Prongs," he responded to James, his voice laced with weariness as he sat up, facing his friend with a deep sigh. His disheveled hair mirrored the chaos within his heart, while his under-eye bags revealed the toll of sleepless nights.

James raised a curious brow, his expression morphing into a furrowed concern as he attempted to piece together the puzzle of Remus's cryptic words. However, the realization dawned upon him, washing over his features like a wave crashing against the shore.

In the midst of the charged atmosphere, Sirius abruptly shot up from his own bed, his eyes widening in a mixture of shock and comprehension, his intense gaze locked onto Remus's weary brown eyes. "About your... monthly problem—about you being a werewolf?" Sirius tentatively inquired, his voice trembling with empathy, an unspoken understanding rippling between them.

Sirius muttered a soft expletive under his breath, his voice barely audible as he processed the gravity of the situation. ‘Shit’

Meanwhile, Peter sat perched on his bed, his small voice breaking through the heavy silence as he nervously inquired, clutching a cupcake in his trembling hand, "How did she react?"

James nodded understandingly, his eyes filled with curiosity as he turned his gaze towards Remus, silently urging him to share the aftermath of their shattered connection.

Remus let out an awkward chuckle, his hand absently rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture of unease.

"I didn't give her much time to react... I... I kind of panicked and just told her to leave," Remus confessed, his voice carrying a mix of regret and vulnerability. The words hung in the air, leaving a profound sense of loss in their wake.

Sirius sharply inhaled, a pained hiss escaping his lips, mingled with a wistful chuckle at his friend's predicament.

"Damn it, Moony," he murmured, the words laced with equal parts sympathy and amusement, a testament to the complex emotions swirling within the tight-knit circle of friends.

"I didn't even have a chance to react—my mind was spinning at a thousand miles an hour!" Remus defended himself, a hint of laughter lacing his words, attempting to diffuse the lingering tension.

As the friends playfully teased one another, the atmosphere gradually eased, momentarily relieving the weight of their shared turmoil.

"You'll have to talk to her, mate. I can't bear witnessing those lovesick and pouty expressions you both exchange," James teased, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as Sirius playfully pushed him in response.

"Oh, please! Like you don't make those same looks at your 'precious lily flower'," Sirius retorted, mocking a high-pitched voice with a hearty laugh.

Despite the playful banter, an undercurrent of affection and understanding ran deep within their words, acknowledging the complex emotions that lay beneath the surface.

"Actually, I was hoping you guys could give me some space so I could invite her over to talk," Remus interjected, his voice cutting through the playful banter, revealing his earnest desire for a private conversation.

Sirius feigned astonishment, his eyes widening dramatically as he dramatically brought a hand to his chest, pretending to be overwhelmed.

"You want to kick us out?!" he gasped dramatically, his tone laden with exaggerated humor, though an undertone of understanding danced within his jest.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

AND SO, Remus and Y/N found themselves on opposite ends of the bed, an emotional chasm separating them.

Both ached to bridge the divide, to embrace and seek solace in each other's touch, their longing palpable after days of silent distance.

Suppressing the overwhelming urge to reach out, they fought against the yearning that surged within them, yearning to mend what was broken.

Yet, the air between them crackled with unspoken words and unshared emotions, their eyes drifting away, unable to hold the intense gaze that would only amplify their longing.

With a heavy heart, Remus mustered the courage to steal a glance in her direction, his gaze softening with a melancholic twinkle as he observed her, her eyes fixed on a distant horizon, lost in her own thoughts.

The depths of his sadness reflected in his eyes, mirroring the profound ache that coursed through their untangled souls.

Sensing his unwavering gaze upon her, she tentatively shifted her position on the bed, mustering the strength to meet his earnest brown eyes.

Her lips formed a gentle pursed expression as she prepared to speak, but before she could utter a single word, Remus beat her to it, his voice trembling with remorse.

"I'm sorry... I truly am sorry for how I lashed out," he confessed, his words weighed down by the burden of regret. Nervously, he twirled a small thread between his fingers, a telltale sign of his inner turmoil.

"I was just... scared," Remus whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as if afraid the mere act of voicing his fears would make them all the more real.

"I was terrified that you would leave me, that you would see me as nothing but a monster," he admitted, the vulnerability in his words echoing the depth of his apprehension and longing for acceptance.

As Remus poured out his heart, she remained motionless, her hands tightly clenched at her side, aching with the urge to reach out and touch him, to offer reassurance through the warmth of her touch.

"I don't see you as a monster, Remus," she interjected, her voice filled with unwavering sincerity.

"To me, you're still the same dorky boyfriend who meticulously folds his socks and sometimes wears his reading glasses backwards when you're tired. You're the one who wrinkles his nose at the mere mention of white chocolate," she rambled, a tender smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Her words spilled forth, driven by an overwhelming need to convey the depth of her love and acceptance.

She wanted him to understand that her affection remained steadfast, untarnished by the transformative nature of his monthly struggles. He was not defined by those moments; he was the person she cherished, flaws and all.

Remus's brows furrowed, his heart melting as warmth coursed through his entire being, ignited by her heartfelt ramblings.

In that moment, he realized he hadn't been aware of half the endearing quirks she had just described, yet his heart swelled with gratitude that she saw and cherished them all. She had always known him, truly known him.

With puppy-like eyes filled with a mix of longing and vulnerability, Remus gazed at her, yearning to close the distance between them.

His hands trembled with an undeniable urge to reach out and hold her, to feel the connection that had been strained but not broken.

Moving with caution, he inched closer, searching for any sign of discomfort in her eyes.

When he found none, a flicker of hope danced within him, urging him onward. Without hesitation, he pulled her into an embrace, his fingers gripping her waist with a mixture of urgency and tenderness, as if he were afraid to let go.

In that moment, their intertwined embrace held the weight of unspoken words and a profound love that transcended words alone.

As she melted into the embrace, a contented sigh escaped her lips, surrendering herself to Remus's guiding touch that drew her closer to him, enveloping her in his protective embrace.

His lips brushed against her forehead in a gentle caress, conveying tenderness and affection.

Slowly, he trailed kisses to her nose, cheeks, and chin, each touch igniting a spark within her soul.

But before their lips finally met, he graced her with a breathtaking smile, radiating warmth and love. It was a smile that spoke volumes, assuring her of his unwavering devotion and the depth of his feelings.

She released a blissful sigh that melted into the lingering kiss, savoring the depth of their connection.

With a gentle chuckle escaping her lips, she pulled away slightly, a soft laughter dancing in her eyes as she watched him, his closed eyes yearning for the touch of her lips.

Taking his hand in hers, she lovingly twiddled her fingers with his, intertwining their warmth as she nestled her head beneath his chin, finding solace in his embrace.

Their breaths melded into a tranquil rhythm, harmonizing in perfect unison. In the serenity of the moment, they laughed together, their laughter merging with the gentle cadence of their heartbeats and breaths.

Drifting into a peaceful slumber, they found solace in each other's presence, their shared connection becoming the lullaby that carried them into the realm of dreams.

Moments later, their friends, James, Peter, and Sirius, entered the room, their laughter tapering off as they beheld the sight of the peacefully slumbering couple. A tender silence enveloped the air, as if a sacred moment had been captured.

Unable to resist their strong bond, the trio approached the bed with care, their hearts filled with an unspoken desire to be close to their friends.

In a gentle and deliberate manner, they joined the couple, carefully arranging themselves in a cozy cuddle pile, their warmth and affection mingling in the shared embrace.

In the comfort of that intimate gathering, an unbreakable sense of camaraderie and love permeated the room.

They found solace in each other's presence, creating a haven of support and companionship, a testament to the enduring strength of their friendship.

As sleep gently claimed them, they drifted into dreams, wrapped in the embrace of both friendship and love.

𝗧𝗮𝗴(𝘀)

•@takem3tothelakes

- My fingers were working at like 100mph, and you don’t know how many “Tips for descriptive writing” websites i went on to fine how to describe feelings and find words to match the setting.

#remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x platonic!reader #jamespotter #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter x platonic!reader #peter petigrew #peterpetigrewimagine #peter pettigrew #peterpettigrewimaigine

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stellaeerrantes · 11 months

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Moriarty the Patriot beach headcannons

(reminder; this isn't a writing blog)

Albert

Albert absolutely hates sand and seaweed with a passion. It just gets everywhere, it's sticky and irritating. He will be frustrated about it, but won't complain.

He lies in a beach chair, underneath the cool shade of a tree, perhaps drinking some beverage, reading a book or simply enjoying the view.

He's not much of a swimmer, I believe he wouldn't swim at all or just for a little while with his brothers.

Won't let his hair get damaged if possible (I mean it sure takes a lot of effort to style them so perfectly)

Wine.

William (aka my hubby)

He doesn't mind sand or seaweed.

He's not a big swimmer either, but would enjoy a swim with his friends and family.

I can see him reading a book beside Albert, most likely a mathematics related book or a newspaper, drinking his favourite chamomile tea (yes he 100% drinks tea on the beach)

Puts a ton of sunscreen or else he will turn into a tomato.

William is a teacher by nature. He will educate children playing around on sea- related subjects, such as buoyancy or sea life (and probably maths, yeah).

Gives the best advice on how to built the perfect sandcastle and children love him for that.

Louis

Saying that he has packed lunch for everyone would be an understatement.

Somehow he managed to bring with him a kettle and full tea set for his brothers, biscuits, pastries (he made himself obviously) and a literal meal, silverware and plates included. (Jack is so proud)

Most of the time he stays by William's side, quietly enjoying the small vacation whilst attending to him. He states that he's not very fond of swimming and would prefer to stay dry, but in actuality he really wants to.

When William proposes that they go together for a swim the poor boy is so so happy.

Struggles a little with his glasses and gets sunburnt very easily despite bathing in sunscreen.

Moran & Bonde

These two absolute airheads will race one another in EVERYTHING.

Who jumps in the water first, who swims faster, who can hold his breath longer, who can run to the other side of the beach and back faster, and the list goes on.

James comes first at almost everything, which let's just say Moran didn't take very well.

They both flirt with random girls.

Moran will tease Albert for not getting into the water.

They literally annoy the whole beach.

Fred

I think Fred would like to stroll through the beach and collect seashells.

Afterwards he shows his collection to the Moriarty brothers, who give him a small but much deserved applause.

He's an excellent swimmer, and would dive in order to observe the fish and other sea life.

Will throw small pieces of bread in the water for the fish.

He would also do this thing where you just float on the water in a star- shaped position. He enjoys it a lot.

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thebibutterflyao3 · 5 months

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Day 29 - Prompt: Ticket @jegulus-microfic

December Daily Series - 497 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Sirius shot a narrow-eyed look at Regulus. “I know you don’t do casual shite, and James doesn’t usually either. He’s a romantic, tends to fall a little in love with everyone that he fancies.”

“That is not reassuring. I can’t date someone who falls for everyone. I’m not making that mistake again,” Regulus insisted.

“Not like that! I meant he cares about everyone he’s involved with. He’s loyal as fuck, don’t get it twisted.”

Regulus hummed noncommittally as he joined Sirius on the pavement. The walk back to the Inn wasn’t long, but the silence between them made it feel endless. He was relieved to see James waiting for them as they rounded the last corner, if only to distract him for a while.

“Hey! Are you done bonding already?” he teased, striding toward them.

Sirius smirked at Regulus, then shrugged. “Might have overdone it. I think he’s sick of me, actually.”

“Correct.”

Regulus jostled his bag higher on his shoulder and rubbed reflexively at the sore spot it was creating. Before he had time to react, James lifted the bag from Regulus’s shoulder without a word and transferred it to his own. As he matched their pace, James massaged that sore spot firmly with his thumb. The combination of the heat from his hands and firm pressure eased every muscle in his upper body. If James was looking for the lucky ticket into Regulus’s pants, he found it.

“Impossible! You are a delight,” James replied, winking at Sirius. “Here I thought I’d have to bribe Padfoot to create a distraction just to sneak him away.”

“Unnecessary, you can have him,” Regulus snarked, waving dismissively at his brother.

James laughed and shook his head. “I meant you.”

Regulus tried to ignore the rush of heat in his cheeks and looked away. He was glad to hear it, even if it was a little difficult to accept. It felt like a daydream, like a fantasy that he’d wake up from any minute. James couldn’t be real.

“In that case, I’m going to take Pads for a walk,” Sirius announced, reaching for Regulus’s bag. As he added it to his own, he wriggled his eyebrows at Regulus. “You two have fun.”

“Shut it, Sirius. You’re a terrible wingman.”

“How’s this? James, you have my permission to snog my brother senseless.”

Regulus huffed, shooing him away. “No one needs your permission! Piss off already.”

As soon as Sirius strolled inside the Inn, James linked their hands together and raised them. Regulus’s mouth went dry as he watched those soft pink lips skim his knuckles. It was a ridiculously sweet gesture. Until James met his gaze and placed an open-mouthed kiss on the two fingers Regulus shoved into his mouth yesterday. A tingling feeling raced down his arm as James’s warm breath tickled his frigid skin. He was tempted to press those fingers inside, where they belonged. It was hard to ignore, even though they stood in a rather public walkway.

Next Part>>>

#the marauders #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #marauders #starchaser #sirius black #jegulus microfic

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argentinagp · 1 year

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Vettel, Stroll and Brundle take on the ULTIMATE Aston Martin James Bond stunt challenge! 🤩 [x]

bonus +:

#sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel #f1edit #formula 1 #f1 #2021 #aston martin #m*#yeah there is a reason for this gifset but i wont say it

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ticklishfiend · 9 months

Text

Limitless Bond (Good Omens)

(Switch!Crowley/Switch!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale and Crowley have a tickle fight during their cute little movie night.

a/n : i’ve been aziracrow pilled there’s a worm in my brain screaming abt them at all times edit: reading this back i’ve realized i’ve never seen a single james bond film so take it with a grain of salt lmao

Word Count : 2892

hope u enjoy :D

. . .

Let’s do some math for a second.

Crowley and Aziraphale have been on Earth together for 6000 years. They’ve been in each other's lives as hundreds, thousands of human generations around them lived and died. And yet, only in the 4 years after the apocalypse did they dare truly bask in one another’s touch. In 0.00066667% of the time they’ve known each other, Aziraphale and Crowley taught themselves to be truly comfortable in one another’s presence, learning about each other in ways they never thought possible.

Try not to think too hard on the numbers. It’s quite difficult sometimes for humans to grasp an occult being’s concept of time. Time for angels and demons is so wildly different from anything a human could ever experience, and that is exactly what makes Aziraphale and Crowley’s love for each other so special and unique. Their time is limitless, so their love is limitless.

What a human can comprehend, however, is how infuriatingly frustrating their relationship must be considering the fact they refuse to actually talk about it. Non-humans are funny like that.

Why put it into words when they both know it’s there? Intrinsically, they feel it, they know it without a shadow of a doubt, and yet somehow they are both still too scared to talk. If they do, it’ll make it real. Their love could literally break down celestial systems incomprehensible to the human mind. Or it could just result in some nasty paperwork. Either way, both sound horrific, and are things the angel and demon are silently working together to avoid.

Whether they ever choose to talk about it or not, those 4 years were magic on Earth.

During that time, Crowley learned that Aziraphale’s hair might even be softer than his wings. Aziraphale learned scratching Crowley’s back when he’s sleepy makes the demon smile without knowing he’s moving a muscle. A demon taught an angel to love roughhousing, and an angel taught a demon the joys of a good cuddle.

But possibly their new favorite physical affection to take advantage of was one they learned together on a casual, cozy movie night.

Aziraphale grinned as Crowley strolled into the bedroom, “I’ve never seen that shirt before.”

Crowley pulled the shirt down to show it off, giving a little wiggle.“What, you don’t like Bond?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Aziraphale, “But I’ve never actually watched the titular James Bond films, so I can’t really say anything,” he said with a teasing tilt in his voice. He knew he’d get a reaction out of such a ghastly confession.

Crowley gaped, stuttering over incomplete words in shock, “Wha—you, you never—I mean—angel, that’s gotta be illegal. Seriously, if I phoned the FEDs right now they’d probably swarm in here guns-a blazing for your crimes,” Crowley shook his head, throwing himself onto the bed next to Aziraphale. “We’re watching it now, I don’t care. You’re lucky I got you this TV set up last month.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes fondly, but didn’t argue. “You can’t be mad at me if it’s not my cup of tea. You know the kind of films I prefer, and I don’t think these fit the list.”

“No no you’ll love it. Got all that romantic filler your heavenly heart desires,” Crowley said, the TV turning on with a flick of his wrist as he settled comfortably against his angel.

They watched together in an easy silence, Aziraphale trying to really gather everything he could from a movie he knows Crowley loves so dearly. He’s not even sure which Bond movie they’re watching at the moment, but he assumes it’s Crowley’s favorite.

But during an intense shootout scene, Aziraphale does get a little bored. He’s always preferred scenes of great dialogue, heartfelt moments passing between characters. Right now he’s just seeing mediocre special effects and lots of screaming. He gets the appeal, sort of, but it’s just not his thing.

Crowley on the other hand was as tuned in as ever. Aziraphale smiled as he watched his friend’s intense expression, seeing Crowley suppress his excitement over a movie he knows he’s had to have seen dozens of times now.

His gaze wanders back down to Crowley’s torso, “Where did you get that shirt? Really, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear it.”

Crowley blinked like snapping out of a trance, trying to look nonchalant as insecurity trickled over him. “Oh, this thing? M’not sure I recall,” he snuggled deeper into Aziraphale’s chest, “It’s my night shirt. Don’t wear it often.”

Aziraphale squinted. “You’re ‘not sure you recall’?”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, yellow eyes bearing into blue, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Aziraphale looked puzzled, shaking Crowley’s shoulder playfully and smiling at the hiss it produced, “Are you hiding something from me?”

“No, stop pestering me,” Crowley growled, but it was entirely unconvincing with that playful grin on his face. He faced the TV again as if his mind wasn’t completely on the angel holding him tight.

“You’re really not going to tell me?” Aziraphale giggled, “It can’t be that bad, darling, it’s just a t-shirt.”

Crowley groaned, hiding his face in Aziraphale’s chest, “Nooooo nonononono, I’m not talking,” he said, words muffled in Aziraphale’s silk pajamas.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows playfully, rubbing up and down Crowley’s back through the shirt in question. “You know, humans have this fun little game they play to make someone reveal funny secrets. I only wonder if it will actually work on a demon.”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale with a suspicious glare, “The hell are you talking about?”

Aziraphale said nothing, giving a nonchalant hum. Instead, he moved his hand down Crowley’s back towards his ribs, giving it a quick pinch.

Crowley squawked, arching away but getting caught in Aziraphale’s hold. He snapped a look Aziraphale’s way, “Do not.”

Aziraphale giggled in glee, wanting to clap his hands together but needing to hold Crowley close. “I wasn’t sure it would work!”

“Angel-“ Crowley growled.

“A ticklish demon. How silly~” Aziraphale sang, tickling into Crowley’s ribs without wasting any more time.

Crowley bit off a yelp, twisting in Aziraphale’s grip as if he was trying to get away (he wasn’t, but he’s allowed to play along). But Aziraphale kept pinching and prodding and finally Crowley just couldn’t hold back anymore, letting out a peal of giggles and laughs that had Aziraphale cooing.

“Nonononohohoho!” Crowley shook his head into Aziraphale’s chest, hiding his smile. His arm was a little stuck under Aziraphale’s back, so there wasn’t much else he could do.

“Saying no is what started this, dear,” Aziraphale smiled, bringing his other hand around to tickle into Crowley’s neck, relishing in how high-pitched those giggles became. “Goodness, how ticklish are you?”

“I don’t knohohow! Not tryna fihihind out-!” Crowley squeaked out the last word, finding out his ears are especially sensitive to perfectly manicured fingernails.

Crowley squirmed like a worm on a hook, pushing against Aziraphale without even meaning to, his head shaking back and forth like a protest to his giggles.

Aziraphale gasped, “Is this your first time being tickled, Crowley?”

“Stohohop!” Crowley guffawed, hardly taking in the angel’s words.

“I asked you a question,” he said simply, pinching at Crowley’s belly and watching Crowley’s feet kick the sheets.

“Fuhuhucker!” was all Crowley could get out.

“Oh alright,” Aziraphale reluctantly halted his attack, carding fingers through Crowley’s hair. “I said, was that your first time being tickled?”

Crowley huffed, pouting against Aziraphale’s chest and keeping his gaze on the TV. “You’re not even watching the movie.”

The angel chuckled lightly, giving Crowley’s head a tender kiss. “It’s a lovely movie, darling, but it’s hardly as interesting as this little discovery.”

Crowley grumbled, mumbling a response into the silk pajamas.

“What was that dear?”

Crowley lifted his head with a devious look on his face, “I said you’re a prick,” Crowley dug into Aziraphale’s sides, grinning wickedly at how wide his angel’s eyes became.

“AH! Cr-Crohohowley!” Aziraphale fell gracefully into his giggle fit, expelling his excess energy by gripping onto Crowley’s wrists.

“So I take it you’ve never been tickled either?” said Crowley as he wiggled into the angel’s ribs, biting his own cheek when Aziraphale threw his head back in laughter.

“Yehehes! I mean-! Nohoho, I-! Crohohowley plehehease!” Aziraphale never realized how difficult speaking could be when getting tickled. He truly learned something new every day with his dear demon. His mind was mush and all he could think about was how dreadfully ticklish he apparently was.

“Oh poor angel, thought he could get away with teasing a demon,” Crowley teased, poking sporadically across Aziraphale’s tummy and making the angel’s laughter grow. “Naaaah, now that I know your weakness I’m never lettin’ you live it down.”

Crowley crawled on top of Aziraphale, shoving his thumbs into his underarms. “NO! Nohoho Crohohowley! Bad snahahake!” Aziraphale teased even through his laughter, unabashedly having a great time.

“You having fun down there or somethin’?” Crowley chuckled.

“Yehehes!” Aziraphale squeaked, face turning pink from mirth.

Crowley shook his head fondly, not surprised in the slightest. But he could tell Aziraphale would probably appreciate some air soon, whether he actually needed it or not, and eased up. Not before giving his belly once last poke, of course, just to hear him yip.

Aziraphale giggled through his breath, hands resting on Crowley’s thighs. The demon couldn’t help blushing, but didn’t move.

“I never realized it felt like that,” Aziraphale said, a smile etched between his rosy cheeks. “I knew tickling was used as torture way back when, but my goodness.”

“Human vessels are a funny thing,” Crowley said, unsure of where to put his hands now that they weren’t being used as weapons. As if Aziraphale could tell, the angel gently took them in his own, laying their hands down on Crowley’s thighs.

They sat staring into each other's eyes for a while. It was such a comforting silence, one Crowley felt warm in. Why did Aziraphale always have to open his damn mouth-

“You’re quite ticklish on those ribs of yours,” Aziraphale shot a cheeky grin, eyebrows up like he’s being clever. Crowley groaned, looking up to the ceiling.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You never did tell me where you got that shirt from…?” Aziraphale said, slowly loosening his grip on Crowley’s hands before the demon squeezed back-

“I’ll end you.”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m serious, angel. Death, discorporation, sooo much paperwork-“

“Was the shirt a former lover’s? Are you embarrassed, Crowley?” Aziraphale teased as he starting fighting Crowley’s grip, their hands now playing for dominance.

Crowley grunted, not shocked that Aziraphale was winning their little fight, “Grk, no! It’s…just…a secRET-!” He was cut off by a squeak as one perfectly manicured hand tore from his grasp and gripped onto his ribs, squeezing and pinching and tickling. Crowley collapsed forward in his squirmy laughter, hand still holding tight to one of Aziraphale’s.

“Oooh a secret, you say? Do tell me more,” Aziraphale finally fought his other hand free, now tickling up and down Crowley’s torso as the demon wiggled and laughed freely on top of him. His head was pressed firmly to Aziraphale’s chest, and my that just wouldn’t do anymore, now would it?

“You keep hiding your smile from me! It’s rather unfair, my face was on full display when you tickled me,” Aziraphale said before pushing Crowley to the other side of the mattress, tickling him the whole way down. He hovered over Crowley with a big grin.

“Ahahangel! This is stupihihid!” Crowley cackled, head turning this way and that like trying to hide his face in the sheets surrounding him.

“Was it stupid when you tickled me?” Aziraphale accused, pinching Crowley’s hips and smiling when he bucked and kicked.

“GAHAHAhaha-!” Crowley guffawed, finding words very hard at the moment. “Nohoho-! Was— fuhuhunny!”

“Oh Lord, now you’re just asking for it,” Aziraphale shot his hands up into Crowley’s armpits. It tickled like hell (Heaven? no, definitely hell) on himself, so maybe it’ll be the same for Crowley.

Crowley. Screamed.

Maybe scream is the wrong word. The sound that left Crowley was like a screech, a hurtle of pure loud noise that fell into cackles, squeals, and Aziraphale’s favorite, the snort. Oh what a sound it was. The angel would never forget it (and unfortunately, neither would the demon).

“Oh wow…” Aziraphale giggled at Crowley’s expense.

“Ahahangel-! I—shihihit-! I’ll tahahalk!” Crowley managed to get the words out through his laughter, a feat he wished he could be proud of. Aziraphale conceded even though he honestly really didn’t want to. Crowley looked so cute when he laughed, it was hard to quit.

Aziraphale drew his hands away, and Crowley took a moment to catch his breath. When the moment faded, he threw a pillow over his face and screamed into it quite dramatically. Aziraphale pulled it off and held it gently in his lap.

“You were telling me about the shirt?” Aziraphale said, scribbling a finger onto Crowley’s clothed tummy. Crowley batted it away with a hiss.

“Do you even actually care about the shirt or did you just want an excuse to torture me?” Crowley tried yanking the pillow back but found it held in an iron grip. He settled for crossing his arms instead.

Aziraphale took his hand. “If you really don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I just thought a game would be fun,” Aziraphale handed him the pillow.

Crowley took it, raising an eyebrow, “So you were bored of the movie?”

Aziraphale winced. “…Meh?”

Crowley’s face pinched in frustration, “But it’s James ffffucking Bond! No one in the history of EVER has been bored by a James Bond movie, angel, you are literally setting records here!”

“I just prefer the softer films! You know, your…Pride And Prejudice types.”

“That’s one of your favorite books, that hardly counts.”

“It’s still a good film!”

“Okay okay, point stands though, that you only did all that to get out of watching my movie. You don’t actually care about the origins of my shirt at all, do you?” Even though his arms were already crossed, he made a little harumph motion with them, hand still holding Aziraphale’s gently. He turned his head away from Aziraphale, feigning anger. Crowley did love a petty argument every now and then.

“Oh come ooooonn,” Aziraphale shook Crowley by the shoulder with his free hand. Crowley said nothing. “Don’t be like this, you know how much I hate the silent treatment.”

Crowley gave Aziraphale a pointed look that said ‘duh, why else do you think i’m pulling the silent treatment?’ before turning back around.

Aziraphale sighed playfully, “Whatever am I going to do without you to talk to…” He couldn’t hold back a cheeky grin as he pinched Crowley’s side, the demon flinching but still saying nothing. “Who will I complain to when my favorite books get turned into terrible films?”A few pokes to the belly, and Crowley’s knees shot up. “Who will teach me about the different plant life in London?” Three pinches to the ribs and he heard a stifled giggle as Crowley’s back arched away from his fingers.

Aziraphale let the moment hang in the air. He wanted Crowley to feel anticipation crawling up his spine. Aziraphale saw him squirm slightly into the sheets.

He quickly pinched up and down Crowley’s side, from his hip to his rib, the demon flinching hard with a keening giggle. He rolled over quickly, ticklish laughter spilling from him as he slapped at Aziraphale’s hands, feet digging into the mattress. “Okay okahahay! I gihive, you dihihick!”

Aziraphale pulled away for the final time, meaning it this time (well maybe, who knows with how playful they’ve both felt this evening). He laid on his back next to a sprawled out Crowley, putting his hand in his…friend’s.

They basked in each other’s presence for a little while, rubbing their thumbs over the skin of their hands, playing with each other’s fingers, once Crowley dared to tickle Aziraphale’s palm. But then the credits started to roll on the film and Crowley felt the need to confess.

“It was a convention.”

“Hm?”

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder,“It was a, er…ngk,” he squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, letting go of weird insecurities. “…a James Bond convention. They held one in London when those newer films came out. I’m a pretty big fan, you know that, so I popped by, made myself…known.” His confession was awkward but very real, and Aziraphale could tell that even as silly as it was, it did take something for Crowley to admit that. “Got a t-shirt while I was there, thought hell, why not, I’m here, the shirts here, probably made to be. So yeah. My new nightshirt.”

Aziraphale smiled so wholeheartedly at Crowley the demon was half-worried he’d pop something. “That’s so sweet, Crowley. I always knew you loved James Bond, but worthy enough to have the Anthony J. Crowley show up to his convention-?”

“Ohhhh bite me a new one, angel,” Crowley shook their intertwined fingers, getting even comfier against him. Aziraphale did the same, leaning into Crowley and wrapping an arm around his waist.

They didn’t talk about this when they woke from their nap. They didn’t need to. At least, they thought they didn’t need to. Their time has always been limitless. They thought their love always would be too.

. . .

a/n : ok im going to sleep goobyeee

#tickle community #tickling #tickle fic #good omens tickling #lee!crowley #ler!aziraphale #lee!aziraphale #ler!crowley #switch!aziraphale #switch!crowley #ticklish crowley #ticklish aziraphale

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fandomnsfw · 1 year

Text

Changes Epilogue - Scott McCall x Reader

Paring: Scott x Reader

Prompt: Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur

Warning: Labor and stuff...

And a BIG thank you to my Beta who did this even though she wasn’t feel well! @lets-imagine-fanfics

Last Chapter! I hope youuuu enjoy!!

Pictures for this ending!

*****

It’s been months since you and Scott had complete the bond. Working out how it worked had been a task but you’d finally managed, with the help of Deaton to find out all the perks and downsides. You were currently sat in the school cafeteria with the pack.

The perks of being true mate are, you can speak to each other through thoughts, however, it does require concentration. Another perk is you can channel Scott’s True Alpha power if you need to, though you had only done it once and that was because Liam and Jackson had been fighting and bitching while everyone was trying to train and you’d had just about enough.

Your eyes had changed colour after the bonding, which you found strange. Once you’d ask Deaton, he’d explained that an Alpha’s mate also known as a Luna, should have similar eyes to omega's except the blue is a lot darker. However, as a true mate, the most submissive wolf of the two gains the ability to channel the stronger wolfs power there for mixing the eye colours together.

So the result was pinky-purple eyes. Personally, you found it weird but Scott always went on to say that you had unique eyes and that they were beautiful. Derek actually agreed, apparently, he thought to have eyes like yours meant you were special and being special was never a bad thing.

Your bond with the pack had grown through the past few months. The younger teens of the group now came to you for help or advice despite the fact that you are actually the newest wolf of the group.

“Liam, get your ass of your brother before I decide you're not too god damn old for time out!” You snapped as you sat down with your glass of orange juice.

“Sorry, mom!” Liam answered back cheekily, knowing it pissed you off.

Melissa strolled into the room with a coffee and her work clothes on. She and Scott had recently been talking about moving into the Hale house permanently mainly because bills were too much and Scott wanted his mom not the work so much.

She sat next to you and held out her cup for you. You took it with a grateful smile but as the scent of the coffee hit your nose full force you began gagging. Melissa and Scott frowned as she followed you to the bathroom. She held back your hair as you threw up everything from this morning.

“Honey, are you okay?” She asked softly, stroking your face as you sat up with tears in your eyes.

“This is the second time this week…” You muttered fearfully the only thought crossing your mind is that you caught some sort of fucked up werewolf disease.

“Y/N! BABY! YOU OKAY? I CAN FEEL YOUR PAIN AND SADNESS!” Scott screamed as he skidded down the hall before backtracking to see you sat there next to the toilet.

“Again?” He asked with concern lacing his voice.

You shot him a nod as Melissa muttered to wait here before running downstairs. Scott bent down to hold you tightly against his chest as he muttered words of comfort. Melissa ran downstairs to see Chris and Derek were the only ones in sight.

“You two!” She yelled as she pointed at them both. They looked up in shock before nodding and the same time.

“Go to the store and get loads of pregnancy tests!” She demanded with wide eyes.

“Melissa don’t tell me yo-”

“Christopher Argent I went through menopause two years ago. Your sperm ain’t that magical.” Melissa sassed, cocking her hip to one side.

“So who?” Derek asked with amusement in his tone.

“Chris doesn’t have super sperm but turns out my son might! GOOOOO I WANNA KNOW IF I’M GONNA BE A GRANDMA!” She yelled impatiently. Chris and Derek’s eyes widened as they took in what you said before they started scrambling about like getting that test was now their only goal in life.

“Why is Der spazzing out like he switched places with me?” Stiles asked as he came into the room with Peter.

“I think Y/N's pregnant.” Melissa puttered before telling them to keep it quiet.

“OH MY GOD! YES!” Stiles screamed before glancing at Peter. He held out his fist and unexpectedly, Peter gave him a fist bump.

Five minutes later Chris and Derek ran in sweating and panting with two carrier bags. Melissa grabbed a plastic cup from the kitchen before making her way upstairs. She hid the tests in her room before taking the cup the bathroom.

“Sweetie, can you pee in this cup, please? I know it’s gross but I need to run a few tests and this is the easiest way.” You gave her a nod before she and Scott left leaving you to do what she asked. After you’d done she took the sample and walked to her room leaving you and Scott to worry.

Melissa dipped about 20 pregnancy tests in the sample before putting the lids on the end and waiting. She turned her back not wanting to watch but all the same wanting to watch every second. After she looked at her watch for what seemed to be the millionth time she finally deemed it time. She spun around and stared down processing what she was seeing.

There laid 20 pregnancy test and every single one was positive. Melissa tried to contain her excitement as she ran to yours and Scott’s bedroom you now shared. She was panting and had a giant smile on her face as she reached the door.

“There is nothing wrong. You’re perfectly healthy just like a werewolf should be.” She said as she took a breath to calm down.

“So why do I keep throwing up?” You asked with a frown.

“It’s nothing bad just you might wanna start eating a little more and coming to see me for check-ups.” Melissa gave you a small smile but her response made you worry even more. If nothing was wrong why would you need to go for check-ups? That’s when it clicked.

Nothing wrong = This is good news

Eat more = Eating for two

Check-ups = Ultrasounds

“OH. MY. GOD. SCOTT MCCALL, YOU ARE DEAD!” You screamed as you launched at him with glowing pink eyes.

“WHAT WHY!?” He screamed as he ran out the bedroom with you running after him.

“YOU AND YOUR DICK ARE DEAD!” You screamed as he ran downstairs in the living area where Peter, Derek, Stiles and Chris were sat.

“WHAT THE HELL DID MY DICK DO!?” He squealed as you tried to hop over the couch to get to him but missed him by a hair.

“Y/N! Be careful!” Melissa scolded causing you to stop and realise, this wasn’t just your body anymore it was a shield that was protecting another life so you had to treat it differently.

“Why am I being chased?!” Scott panted as he looked at his mom and mate.

“I’m pregnant, dumbass.” You muttered a blush working its way to your face. Unlike how you imagined this moment to go later in life it was different. You didn’t have time to think about the usual stuff. Would Scott leave you? Would he make you abort? Does he even want kids? because as soon as you said it Scott picked you up with a giant smile.

“Really?!” He asked as he stared into your wide eyes.

“Y-Yes at least that’s what I figured Melissa meant.” You glanced at her with wide eyes before she gave you a nod.

“Oh my god! I’m gonna be a Dad!” Scott chuckled his face lighting up like you’d never seen.

“I thought it was the Moms who glowed during pregnancy, not the Dads?” You snorted before glancing at Melissa.

“No actually the Dads are glowing and the Moms always look like zombies. The back pain, the boob pain, the feet swelling, the throwing up, the eating of weird shit. You name it.” Melissa shot you a sinister grin and suddenly you felt the urge to kill your baby daddy.

After 20 seconds you had Scott on the floor standing on his chest with one foot. When the front door opened you glanced over to see the Sheriff and shot him a sarcastic smile to let him know you were pissed.

“Why is Scott being punished?” The Sheriff snorted as he stood and glanced down at Scott who sent him a wave.

“I dunno should I tell him Scott? He is basically my Dad after all!” You growled as you applied for pressure to Scott’s chest earning a wince from him.

“Tell me what?” The Sheriff muttered with a glare quickly making it way to his face as he glanced at Scott.

“Papa if you’d be so kind as to hand me your gun first before I tell you that would be great.” You asked sweetly but he immediately passed his gun to you.

“I’m pregnant.” Was all you said, before stepping away from Scott, with a smile on your face.

“I’m gonna be a grandad?” You gaped at the man who you classed as your father confused to why he wasn’t killing Scott.

“OH MY GOD! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO IS HAVING A HARD TIME ACCEPTING THIS?!” You screamed before storming up the stairs, placing your ‘Dads’ gun on the table near the front door before you went.

You stormed into Lydia’s room without knocking which resulted in a naked Aiden falling off the bed and a naked Lydia sighing. They both looked at you and kept their mouths closed before they began getting dress.

“Honey, what happened?!” Lydia asked as she sat on the bed waving at you to come over. You glanced up at her from the door, tears streaming as you finally spoke up.

“I’m pregnant.” Aiden gasped whereas Lydia opened her arms and you ran into them.

She held you as you cried never saying congrats or this is good news. She just held you and right now that is what you needed. Aiden moved to close the door before sitting back down and stroking your back.

“I know its scary baby girl but listen to me when I say this.” She pulled you away and cupped your cheeks.

“You will be a great mother.” That was the only thing you needed before you broke down completely.

“You are not like your mother. You are kind and you’re fearless and above all else, you always protect your family. I know you’re scared and I know you want to run baby but right now I need you to think about your child. I know you’re 18 and haven’t even finished high school yet but I also know if anyone can do this…it’s you.” She whispered into your hair as you clung to the other girl. Suddenly Aiden shocked you into sitting up by speaking.

“This child will never go unloved or want for anything. We’re your family and we’re here to help you. No matter what Y/N.” You and Aiden always took the piss out of each other and teased one another but you had a bond that not many others could ever understand. He stared into your eyes, letting you know he was sincere and you gave him a small smile that screamed thank you.

“I think you should go and talk to Scott.” Lydia stated as she looked at you with a smile. You gave her a nod before drying your eyes and making your way downstairs to find Scott.

You found him sat in the living room with the other as his teeth worried as his bottom. He looked up before rushing over to you and hugging you so tightly. In that moment you knew you could do this because your family would never leave you and would always believe in you.

….

“Lydia, I really don’t think we need a designer pram…” You muttered as you strolled through the shops with Derek, Lydia, Peter and Stiles.

“Maybe, but it’s the first pack baby and if we need to we can put it in the attic for when another pack member has a baby.” Lydia argued as she glanced at Derek.

“I hate to say it but I actually agree with Lydia.” Derek grunted as he glanced around the prams. You looked around and spotted a pure white pram that stood out to you. You strolled over to it but as you tried to check the price tag Peter grab your wrist and nodded to the Derek. Derek turned to the sales-person with a smile and handing over his card.

“Peter! I wanna check the price first!” You snapped angrily but he just shook his head and began dragging you out the shop. The next shop was for clothes which you dread because you had yet to tell anyone but Scott, Melissa and your Dad the sex of the baby.

“Right you’re gonna have to tell us the sex or this is gonna be difficult.” Lydia sighed as she glanced and the expensive multi-designer brand baby shop.

“Girl.” You muttered quietly but you knew she’d heard you when her and Stiles let out a scream before running off.

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell her. Now she’s gonna buy so many clothes that are desi-” You looked to your side to see Derek and Peter had disappeared and were now cooing at baby Gucci dresses.

“Seriously!” You huffed before walking over to Derek.

“Do you not think it’s weird for a teen mom to have baby Gucci and baby Chloé?” You muttered as you approached Peter and Derek who was picking up a baby Chloé pink winter coat.

“Nope, not when she has Hales as uncles.” Peter sassed earning a glare from you.

“I like this Gucci pinafore dress with this white shirt.” Stiles grinned as he approached you with a tartan pinafore dress and a white long sleeved shirt that had a lacy collar.

“That is so cute!” You squealed as Lydia approached you with wide eyes.

“Christian Louboutin started doing baby shoes!” Lydia gasped as she pointed towards the large shoe section. She knew if there was one brand you couldn’t deny it was Louboutin’s.

After shopping for a while long your feet started hurting so you decided to get the rest of the stuff online. Derek, Peter and Stiles carried in all the bags containing designer clothes and shoes with proud smiles on their faces.

Peter had seen a princess hanging canopy that could go above the cot and insisted his little niece needed it even though you tried to deny it Peter bought it anyway. You sat down on the couch where Melissa and Chris were sat, letting out a loud sigh.

“Oh my god!” Erica screamed as she held up the Gucci floral dungarees and white curved collared shirt.

“It’s a girl!” She screamed as she fumbled through all the clothes with Melissa and Allison.

“Welcome back. How are my Queen and Princess doing today?” Scott cooed as he walked into the living area. You chuckled as you stroke your large stomach.

“Uncle Peter and Uncle Derek spent lots of money on you today didn’t they Princess.” You giggled softly, earning a kick from your little girl.

“I can see…” Scott sighed as he stared at all the designer bags.

“Hey, stop it.” You scolded as he frowned.

“I just wish I could buy her all this stuff…” Scott muttered as he looked through the bags.

“Baby, she doesn’t need Gucci clothes or Louboutin’s from you…She needs your love.” You chuckled softly as you leant down to leave a soft loving kiss on his lips. You pulled back with wide eyes and glanced at Derek.

“How much was this sofa?” You asked Derek with a worried frown.

“A lot.” He grumbled with a confused frown.

“You could totally afford another one, right?” You chuckled with a blush on your face.

“I mean yeah if I ne-Why?” His eyes narrowed as he scanned over you until he saw the wet patch on the sofa.

“Did your…” Derek’s eyes widened as he glanced at you in panic.

“What’s that smell?” Scott asked with a frown as the other wolves sniffed at the air.

“DID YOUR WATER JUST BREAK!?” Derek screamed clearly freaking out.

“MELISSA!!!!” Chris screamed as he started running around and grabbing the birthing bag you’d pack less than a week ago.

“What!?” Melissa yelled as she ran down the stairs.

“MY WATER JUST BROKE!?” You screamed, watching as her eyes widened.

Everyone was running around calling Deaton, making sure they didn’t forget anything as Scott sat there in shock, holding your hand. You threw your head back and let out a pained filled growl as you felt Scott’s hand breaking under your hold.

Not 10 minutes later, Deaton bust through the door, medical bag in hand and eyebrows raised in urgency. He instructed Scott to carry you to the bed, as he followed quickly. You wished you could go to a hospital but as Deaton had said a few months ago. You are likely to shift if you're in pain, so you couldn’t go to a hospital.

Suddenly Liam ran into the room with his dad following him. You stared at him like he’d gone crazy before Liam’s stepdad stared at you.

“I’m gonna have questions after this but right now we need to get this baby out safely!” Liam’s dad screamed before turning to Melissa.

“I need hot water and towels.” He ordered quickly before rolling up his sleeves.

“Scott, I need you to take a deep breath and focus. Deaton do you have the stuff I’d need to do this?” Liam’s dad asked as he nodded to Deaton medical bag.

“I have gloves and few bits and pieces in case we need to cut. She has supernatural healing and the wolves can take her pain that’s all you’ll need. Epidural won’t work on her.” Deaton stated as he checked your vitals.

“Got it. Scott and Liam that’s your job.” He instructed earning a serious nod from both boys.

Melissa ran in with towel while Derek followed in with a large bowl of hot water. Liam’s dad lifted up a pair of scissors and began cutting off your jeans knowing that right now it was urgent. Melissa threw a blanket over your bottom half to cover your dignity before bending your legs up and giving you a smile.

“Scott McCall, this is all your fault!” You screamed as you felt another contraction happening.

“She’s 9cms already!” Liam’s dad yelled as he glanced at Deaton with wide eyes.

“Her water only broke 25 minutes ago!” Melissa screamed as she dabbed the sweat off your forehead.

“Well apparently, this baby doesn’t care!” Liam’s dad yelled back as he looked at Scott and Liam with a nod.

“Derek I need you to take over a minute.” Scott groaned as he collapsed to the floor in pain.

“What’s wrong with your son, Melissa?” Liam’s dad sighed as he looked at Scott.

“Unlike most men, Doc, he’s actually feeling her pain. It’s a werewolf thing.” Melissa snorted as she let Chris take her son out the way.

“Derek Hale, this m-might be a bad time to ask and I-I’m not religious b-but I’d be happy if you’d be the godfather.” You stuttered softly as he and Liam took your pain.

“I’d be honoured Y/N but first let’s get you through this okay?” He muttered gently as he stroked your hair.

“Okay, I need you to push! SCOTT, GET IN HERE!” Liam’s dad yelled with urgency.

The pain was unreal, causing you to scream but Scott held in his scream of pain and chose to peck your temple. His hand running through your hair softly.

“Come on baby, you can do it.” He whispered, his breathing as heavy as yours.

“You know you can cut off the pain channelling. You don’t need to feel this too…” You whispered as you got a second to breathe.

“We’re in this together baby if you have to suffer to birth our baby girl, then so will I.” Scott stated with a dopey lopsided grin.

“I love you.” You stated before Liam’s dad told you to push again. Suddenly everything else disappeared as you heard a scream. You look up to see the Doctor holding your baby with a smile.

“Congratulations it’s a baby girl.” He stated before he turned to Melissa and asked her to cut the cord. Everyone crowded around the room and the bed, sniffling and cheering as they all welcomed the newest pack member.

At that moment you knew there was nothing you’d change your life for.

Part 7 <-

#teen wolf #tw #teen wolf imagine #imagine #reader #reader insert #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall x you #scott x you #scott x reader #fluff #labour #baby

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pretty-little-candid-blurbs · 10 months

Text

Everlasting

Summary: Join James Potter and the reader as they spend a delightful day together in their established relationship at Hogwarts. Amid the castle's magical ambiance, they experience moments of love, mischief, and genuine camaraderie that only Hogwarts can provide.

warnings: hella fluff

In the early morning light, James Potter and the reader woke up together in the cozy Gryffindor dormitory. Wrapped in each other's arms, they exchanged whispered endearments and tender kisses before starting their day.

After breakfast, hand in hand, they strolled through the enchanted corridors, the castle's portraits winking and nodding as they passed. They stopped at the Room of Requirement to have a private moment together. Inside, surrounded by a soft, warm glow, they shared dreams and aspirations for the future, feeling their bond grow stronger.

As the morning advanced, they found themselves in the courtyard, enjoying the sunshine and the company of friends. With mischief twinkling in their eyes, they playfully charmed pebbles to dance in the air, causing laughter and amazement among onlooking students.

Next, they made their way to the Quidditch pitch. James, still the talented Chaser, gave the reader an impromptu flying lesson. They soared through the sky, the wind rushing past them, and for a moment, they felt like they were the only two people in the world.

For lunch, they gathered with their friends in the Great Hall. The chatter was lively, and they all shared stories from the past and plans for the future. Amidst the hustle, James and the reader stole glances at each other, their affection evident in every smile.

In the afternoon, they visited the library, a place that held a special spot in both their hearts. Surrounded by towering bookshelves, they sat close, reading their favorite books together. Sometimes, they'd share passages that resonated with their souls, strengthening the connection between them.

As the sun began to set, James and the reader found solace by the Black Lake, its waters reflecting the vibrant colors of the sky. Wrapped in a warm embrace, they watched the stars emerge one by one, sharing whispered promises and sweet nothings.

As night fell over Hogwarts, they joined their friends in the common room, which was filled with laughter and the crackling of the fireplace. James and the reader shared a private dance, swaying to an imaginary melody that only they could hear, their love shining in their eyes.

Finally, they retreated to their dormitory, where they curled up together under warm blankets. In the soft glow of their enchanted candles, they talked about everything and nothing, cherishing these quiet moments that brought them closer together.

As the clock struck midnight, they exchanged a loving kiss, knowing that the enchanting day they had shared at Hogwarts would be etched in their hearts forever. In each other's arms, they drifted off to sleep, eagerly looking forward to the countless adventures that awaited them in their magical journey of love.

#james potter #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #marauders era #marauders #dead gay wizards

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muiitoloko · 5 months

Text

Fantasy Frames

Summary: In the whimsical blend of reality and fantasy, Harry Deane, a daydreaming art schemer, envisions a suave romance with the elegant secretary amidst comical mishaps.

Warning: none

Pairing: Harry Deane (Gambit 2012) × fem!Reader

Word count: 901

Author's Notes: I honestly don't know why I wrote this, but I wanted to write something for this Harry. Note: not reviewed.

In Shahbandar's waiting room, Harry Deane, mastermind of the elaborate art scheme, couldn't help but steal glances at you, the elegant secretary of the notorious Lionel Shahbandar. As he studied your features that seemed to be made by a pencil, his imagination painted a different canvas – one where he was a confident heartthrob.

With a suave smirk, Harry approached you, his words dripping with charm. "Mon chère, you're the masterpiece that's been missing from my life," he purred, imagining a world where he was the debonair protagonist of his own romantic tale.

In his vivid daydreams, Harry whisked you away to glamorous art exhibitions, where the two of you effortlessly discussed the nuances of brushstrokes and the poetry behind each piece. His clumsy reality faded as he wove a story of stolen glances evolving into passionate embraces amidst the timeless artwork.

As the fantasy unfolded, Harry transformed into a charismatic figure, effortlessly captivating you with tales of daring art heists and romantic rendezvous in the hidden corners of the Louvre. In this alternate reality, he was the James Bond of the art world, and you were his willing accomplice.

The fantasy continued to play out, each scenario more enchanting than the last. Harry's ordinary world blurred with his imagination, and for a fleeting moment, he truly believed he was the suave leading man in an art-infused love story, with you by his side, the leading lady in his painted dreams.

"Oh, Harry!" you chimed, breaking him out of his reverie for what felt like the umpteenth time. His daydreams shattered, Harry looked at you, fumbling as he grew nervous. He stood up in a hurry, trying to regain composure.

"Mr. Shahbandar is ready to see you," you announced with a playful smile. Harry almost tripped over his own feet, embarrassed as he approached your desk. You couldn't help but hide a laugh behind your hand, and he felt a pang of humiliation.

"Sorry," he muttered quietly, hurrying towards the office of Shahbandar, the despised boss. As he entered, Shahbandar looked up, uninterested.

"Well, Deane, what brilliant scheme have you concocted now?" he sneered. Harry, still flustered from his fantasies, stammered, "I-I've got some new ideas for the upcoming exhibit, sir."

Shahbandar raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Make it quick. I have more important matters to attend to." Harry, once the suave protagonist in his dreams, now felt small under Shahbandar's disdainful gaze. Yet, as he spoke, there was a glimmer of determination in his eyes, fueled by the remnants of his painted fantasies.

Minutes later, Harry emerged from Shahbandar's office, a mix of determination and residual fantasy shimmering in his eyes. As he caught sight of you, the elegant secretary at the reception desk, his heart raced with a newfound confidence, spurred by the lingering echoes of his imagined charm.

Attempting to exude suavity, Harry strolled toward you, envisioning a seamless approach. Yet, reality had other plans. In a twist of fate, he found himself tangled in his own footsteps, clumsily collapsing to the floor like a comical mishap in a romantic comedy.

With an embarrassed grimace, Harry tried to salvage the situation, only to be met with your concerned gaze. As you rushed to his aid, he felt a cocktail of mortification and shame, accentuated by the realization that his grand entrance had turned into a less-than-graceful tumble.

You kindly retrieved his fallen glasses, crouching down to place them on his face with a gentle touch. Blinking in surprise, Harry saw you come into focus, your worried expression softening as you inquired if he was alright.

Managing a sheepish nod, Harry couldn't escape the warmth that spread through him as you flashed a reassuring smile. Your fingers tenderly fixed his disheveled hair, and in a surprising twist, you uttered the words that sent his heart aflutter: "You're cute, Harry."

Blushing furiously, Harry stammered, "Uh, thanks... I mean, you're not so bad yourself." His words stumbled out in a mix of embarrassment and a feeble attempt at reciprocating the compliment.

Before he could regain his composure, the office door swung open, revealing the imposing figure of Lionel Shahbandar. "What's all this commotion?" Shahbandar barked, his stern gaze fixed on the disheveled scene before him.

Quickly standing up and clutching his papers, Harry tried to salvage the situation. "It's nothing, sir. Just a little mishap," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact with his boss.

Shahbandar scowled, barking at Harry to stop bothering his secretary and get back to work if he didn't want to get fired. Nodding hastily, Harry retreated with a mumbled confirmation, holding his papers close to his chest. The office door closed with a resounding thud.

Feeling a mix of frustration and resentment towards his boss, Harry sighed. However, your touch on his arm brought him back to the present. He met your gaze, finding a comforting reassurance in your eyes.

You handed him one of his fallen papers, and as he took it, you reached out to fix his crooked glasses, your smile brightening the room. "Be careful next time, Harry," you teased, and he couldn't help but smile back.

Watching you walk back to the reception desk, Harry couldn't shake off the warmth that lingered. Despite the awkward encounter and Shahbandar's harsh reprimand, there was a spark of newfound confidence flickering within him. Maybe, just maybe, the painted dreams weren't so far-fetched after all.

#harry deane #lionel shabandar #gambit #gambit 2012 #alan rickman #colin firth #colin firth x reader #harry deane x reader #harry hart

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