#one cold cold tin suit

[theredqueenandthebloodwyrm]

because I'm weird I decided to try reading the x-men from their first 1963 Uncanny X-Men stuff. I'll probably end up skipping ahead to the good stuff. though at the moment, I'm reminded of how utterly terrifying 60s Ironman design is.

No soul in those empty eye holes.

uh the source is Uncanny X-Men 1963 the first Annual

#old ironman design is nightmare fuel to me #one cold cold tin suit #Uncanny X-Men 1963 #Uncanny Xmen 1963

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Final Girl.

Pairing: Yandere!Chrollo x Reader (HxH).

Word Count: 1.4k.

TW: 'Girl' Is In The Title But Reader Is Gender Neutral, Death and Blood, Mentions of Guns, Manipulation, Implied Kidnapping, and Spoilers for the Ninteenth-Century Novel Dracula.

The night you met him was, by no coincidence, also the night you learned what it meant to feel your blood run cold.

‘Met’ might’ve been an exaggeration. You didn’t meet him so much as you stood still and stared at him – lumbering down the hallway, clutching a gore-splattered butcher's knife, his suit disheveled and stained with a dark, blotting substance you couldn’t bring yourself to put a name to, in your fear-induced paralysis. With the manor's high ceilings and dim lighting, he seemed impossibly tall, his black eyes blank and terrible, his smile manic in a way that sent a chill up your spine, that left you frozen where you stood and unable to run as he came to stand in front of you, as he raised a hand and—

And pointed to the book tucked under your arm, a yellowed paperback beaten to hell and back from weeks of loving abuse. You’d spent hours wondering if you should bring it with you, if there was anyone else on the face of the planet who’d be stupid enough to bring a book to a mascarade ball, but you figured you’d have to step out for a breath of fresh air at some point, tonight, and phones weren’t really an option at this kind of thing. Looking back on it, you struggled to remember why you’d spent so much time agonizing over something so inconsequential, especially when whoever found your body likely wouldn’t pay it a second glance. “Is that—” He started, pausing to wet his lips before correcting himself. “Is that Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

You blinked several times, shifting your weight. “It is,” you managed, eventually, just before the point of no return. “I… I’m only a few chapters in, though. They’re only on the second blood transfusion.”

His smile widened. “I’m reading it for the second time, now. That’s one of the best passages - you can practically feel the dread mounting in the prose.” While he spoke, you stole another glance at his attire. With your shock beginning to fade and your nerves given a few seconds to cool, you could see that he clearly hadn’t just walked out of a crime scene. His clothes were wrinkled, but not torn, not displaced the way they would’ve been if he’d been in a real fight, and he was covered in a cartoonish amount of (presumably fake) blood. He couldn’t have meant for it to be realistic, not unless you were supposed to believe he’d bled twenty people dry on his own.

He must’ve noticed you staring. His rambling trailed off into an airy chuckle, his free hand drifting to his blood-soaked shirt. “I’m afraid I might’ve misread my invitation,” he admitted, with a slight shrug. You were almost in awe of his nonchalance. Showing up to a masquerade ball in a costume fit for a b-rated haunted house would’ve left you catatonic for… god, the rest of the year, at least. “That’s how I found my way back here, actually. You can understand why I wouldn’t want to stay in the ballroom for very long, considering I’m dressed for a very different party.”

“No, no, that makes a lot of sense! I mean, a costume party would be more in-season.” You felt like an idiot. You could only hope you hadn’t looked as scared as you felt. “Honestly, I’m just surprised they let you in with a prop.”

He glanced to his ‘knife’, too, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it. “Oh, this little thing?” He took the blade in his free hand, bending it downward. Unceremoniously, it snapped into two pieces as easily as if it’d been made of little more than tin foil and plastic - which, to be fair, it probably was. “Most people struggle to see me as a threat, for whatever reason.”

“The doormen probably just felt bad for the strange man who showed up to a charity gala covered in blood.” You spared a small smile, then genuinely brightened, taking up your novel and fishing out the spare mask you’d shoved between the pages while you were getting ready. He should’ve counted himself lucky that you could never be bothered to find a real bookmark. “Mine came in a set of two,” you explained, signaling for him to bend down. A little too easily, he obeyed, stooping just low enough for you to work your spare mask over his head. It was cheaper than anything you would usually like to show off – the base simple black cloth, the embroidery meaninglessly gaudy, the main body kept in place by little more than a simple white ribbon that never seemed to sit just right, but he accepted your offering with a grateful hum. “It’s not much, but—” You paused, buttoning his suit jacket, doing your best to make it look a little less like he’d just walked out of a bad slasher movie and a little more like a tragically color-blind, but ultimately well-dressed party-goer. “It should get you through the door.”

He straightened his back, and you thought you might’ve seen something spark in his dark eyes. Then again, it could’ve just been the moonlight. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

Oh, right – that was something most people did before offering to fix a stranger’s clothes, wasn’t it? You rushed to introduce yourself, and he did the same. “Chrollo Lucilfer.” And then, offering you his hand, “Perhaps I’d be more warmly received with a plus one?”

As hesitant as you were to slip back into the ballroom on the arm of a disheveled stranger who’d already made an impression of his own, it would’ve broken your heart to turn him down. That, and you might’ve had a weakness for disheveled strangers who fell on the more handsome side of the spectrum.

You laughed as you threaded your arm through his, letting Chrollo guide you back to the main event. A second passed with only the sound of your footsteps and distance music to fill the quiet, then another. Eventually, you broke the silence. “It’s very well-written,” you started, trying to fight the urge to fidget. “But… I don’t think I’m the right audience. I care too much about Lucy. Seeing her go through so much and knowing she’s not going to make it is just—” You sighed, shook your head. “It’s agony. Especially when the villain is literally in the title. I mean, I know the characters don’t know that, but still.”

“The benefit of a voyeur's perspective.” For all his glowing praise, he didn’t seem very offended. “I think the dramatic irony is part of the appeal. By the time the tension breaks, it’s nearly too painful to keep going.”

“Which is exactly why it hurts to read,” you groaned, slumping into his side. “I get why it’s happening, but I just can’t stand spending so long on the build-up knowing how it’s going to end. It probably doesn’t help that Lucy’s one of my favorites, either. Well, aside from Mina, but it wouldn’t be fair to compare her to the author’s self-insert.”

The two of you came to a pair of rounded oak doors. There’d been a pair of attendants stationed outside when you left, but Chrollo didn’t seem to mind shouldering it open himself, ushering you inside with a smile and an idle gesture. You took a second to steel your nerves, still not entirely prepared to throw yourself into a very crowded room filled with very loud music and very eager socialites, then crossed the threshold, coming face to face with—

Carnage. Pure, unadulterated carnage.

There were bodies everywhere, each corpse mangled and bruised and broken in every possible way. Dark blood and broken glass covered the formerly pristine ivory floor, and the walls were painted with the remnants of gunfire. A few people were still standing – the murderers, you figured, judging by the blood on their outlandish clothes, the weapons in their hands, the indifferent agitation written across their expressions as you stared at them in horror, as your heart threatened to give out for the second time that night. The tallest man you’d ever seen pointed a hand-held machine gun in your direction, but Chrollo found his way back to your side, resting a hand on your shoulder as he spoke. “Hold your fire,” he said, casually, as if you weren’t standing at the edge of a bloodbath. As if he’d known what he was leading you into. “I think I’m going to keep this one.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. The air hitched in your throat as he brought a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back and forcing you to meet his unblinking stare. You’d been right the first time. There was never anything his eyes could’ve been but terrible. “I always did like Mina.”

There was never anything he could’ve been but a monster, prowling for his next kill.

“I guess I just have a soft spot for survivors.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter imagines #yandere hxh #hxh imagines #yandere chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #yanderecore #yancore

[peachesofteal]

Ghost/Soap/female reader 18+ mdni - dark content Running from Simon at the bar because he’s the scary man who wants to pick his teeth with your finger bones… only to find an angel waiting in the wings.

Your second martini is stronger than the first. 

You’re not sure how it’s even possible, considering the contents of a martini is mostly just alcohol, but it stings a little sharper on your first swallow, and you eye the skewer of olives skeptically. 

Oh well. 

More bang for your buck, you suppose. Better to get the job done faster, and cheaper, than the alternative. 

The bar is bustling, and you watch it all from the corner you’re tucked into. Coeds from across the city pack like tinned fish against one another, yelling and breathing in each other’s faces, loud laughter and boisterous conversations bouncing off the walls. Cigarette smoke cloys, orange-red ends flickering in the low light of the evening, blazing bright before they’re snuffed out and replaced. 

Your phone buzzes with a text, ten minutes late, and surprise is few and far between when you read that your activities for tonight have now evaporated, plans cancelled with a simple six-word sentence. 

Sorry, I can’t make it now. 

Asshole.

The vodka is stiff on your lips. Your tongue seeks the rim of your glass, flicking at a leftover drop of olive and alcohol, vermouth herbaceous in the back of your mouth. 

“Seat taken?” A gruff, rough dipped voice calls over your shoulder, gesturing to one of the only bar stools left in the building, and you answer without looking up.

“All yours.” 

“Thanks love.” The pet name straightens your spine, and you sneak a glance, eyeing the bulk settling at your side. “Usin’ that?” He points at the ashtray, thick finger alone in the air, and you shake your head. 

He meets your eyes head on as you turn to look at him, curiosity burning a hole in your brain, and good sense has your stomach tightening into a pit. 

A five-alarm fire rages, gusts of wind and pockets of brush fueling it’s spread, encouraging it to burn far and wide inside you until it consumes everything in its path. 

Danger, it shrieks. Run.

The man’s face is scarred. His nose is crooked. His eyes are dark. He’s a hell baptized image of Ares, a gladiator, a solider. A monster of men. 

And he stares at you like he knows you. 

It’s unnerving enough to set you adrift, free falling through the possibilities. 

It’s danger, but so much more. So much worse. He transcends lethality, strength and bloodlust shining in his expression, a dark beacon lighting the way home. Pine and cigarette smoke, drifting in the stale air. 

Just finish your drink and tab out. Leave. 

“Out by yourself tonight?” You blink at the croon in his voice, serrated tip of a knife dripping with honey, and answer automatically. 

“No.” It’s a lie of course, but you were raised with good self-preservation instincts. You’ve been a girl alone in a bar before, on a train, in an Uber. You know how to tilt the table, load the dice. Pretend you’re with someone, or on the phone, or have someone waiting for you. Lie and pretend. Make it believable. 

The flick of a lighter draws your attention, and he extends a fresh smoke towards you. An olive branch. A trick. 

“Want one?” You twist your face into the most disgusted mask manageable, and he chuckles. “Suit yourself. I’m Simon, by the way.” Lie. You give him something tugged from thin air, something you’re not going to remember in ten minutes time. 

The bartender comes by, and you’re both grateful for the reprieve, and a chance to close out. Until-

“An’ another one of those.” He points at the glass, your eyes going round, cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck. 

“Oh. No, that’s-“ 

“C’mon. One won’t kill ya.” You should tell him it would, it might. Should get loud. More insistent. 

All the rebuttal evaporates when his shoulder shoves against yours, effectively pinning you between the bar top and the wall, heavy thigh bleeding heat against your exposed leg. Your too short dress is now a colossal mistake, and you curse your date for bailing, and yourself for believing he’d even show up in the first place. 

The man, Simon, makes a show of looking around, head on a swivel, roving over the crowd before turning back you with a glint. He knows. He knows you’re not here with anyone. “So, who’d you get all pretty for tonight then?” Smoke rolls from his lips, and the lump in the back of your throat is so thick, it tries to choke you. 

“My- my date.” 

“Where are they?” 

“Not here.” You grit each word, glaring. It only earns you another smile, eyes crinkling in the corner, a shark sniffing blood in the water. 

“Poor thing. An’ your dress is so nice, too. Little short, but… that’s alright. You didn’t know.” He takes a swig of his drink, neat bourbon, room temperature gasoline, and your mouth dries up. 

Didn’t know what? 

The subtle alarm bells ringing in the back of your head become nuclear sirens. 

The martini sweats on the bar top, leaving a wet ring around the base of the glass. Your stomach sours. “Thank you, for the drink, but-“ 

“Drink it.” You haven’t looked away from it, you think, know it hasn’t been tampered with… yet the idea of doing something this stranger, this man asks, terrifies you. 

“I uh…” 

“Don’t wanna be rude, do ya pet?” Fuck. You survey the room, looking for anyone who has noticed you, who has observed this interaction, who has realized what’s happening in this little dark corner. 

No one pays you a lick of attention. If they do, they spot the hulking mass of a man at your elbow and avert their eyes immediately. A few glance back in disbelief, like they recognize him somehow, or know him, before pointedly looking away.  

You’re all but invisible. 

Everything flows around you like water. You’re a rock beneath the surface, affecting a swell, an eddyline, and yet, no one knows. No one can see. 

You swallow half the drink in one gulp, hope and prayer on the wind. 

He’ll leave you alone, once you bore him. Once he realizes he won’t get anything out of you, he’ll move onto someone else. Someone more interesting. 

“How is it?” His leg presses harder on yours, a quadricep like cement halting you effectually, securing your immobility against him with a simple movement. 

He’ll pick you clean, and then pick his teeth with your bones. 

“Fine.”  

“Jus’ fine, eh?” His jaw flexes, and a split second of confusing emotion controls you, forcing new words from your mouth in a desperate attempt to appease. 

“It’s… good. It’s good.” Ice layers across the top of it, and you take another sip for the show, half smile painted on loosely. 

You have to get out of here. You have to go now. 

“If you’ll excuse me…” you flex, trying to stand, but he shakes his head. 

“Where you off to?” Your neck snaps back, indignant, and then you raise your voice over the din, too loud to be considered casual, fingers gripping the edge of your seat until your knuckles hurt. 

“I have to use the bathroom.” Eyes half lidded, he traces you from head to toe before nodding, turning back to his drink almost as if he’s uninterested, grim line of his mouth twisting into a smile and settling around the end of his cigarette. 

Once you’re in the hall, you take a left to the emergency exit, not a right, spilling out the back and into star studded night, gasping for air so cold it shocks your lungs. 

“Whoa, hey there.” An accent croons, and you turn in a panic, palms out. “Easy, easy bonnie. What’s got ye all upset?” Your entire body flags with relief, a rip cord pulled against your sense and judgement. The man, the Scottish man, seems friendly, seems kind, wide blue eyes alarmed and worried, brows creased gently as he helps keep you upright. 

“S-sorry. Sorry, I just… I just had… the weirdest-“ It doesn’t make sense, to try to explain, and nothing sounds right coming off your tongue, so you flail, and he tries to comfort you. 

“Shhh, ye’re alright now. Just breathe.” His palm is firm against your side, and you shake your head, trying to put words to the madness brewing at your back inside the bar. 

“There was a man, and he-“ The streetlamps flare, burning as bright as the sun, and you blink, grasping for your bearings. “He…” 

“He what, bonnie?” His voice is distorted, and the arm at your side now creeps around your back. “What’s wrong?” Your adrenaline surges, leaving your head throbbing, and nausea claws it way up the back of your throat. 

“N-nothing, I…” You’re fuzzy. Everything out of balance, and you gasp for air. 

The door behind you creaks open and slams closed, jolting you in the grip of the Scotsman. 

“It’s alright.” He coos. You’re weak limbed, malleable in his hold, and he turns your face into his neck, rubbing your back, his chest vibrating with every syllable. “Just close your eyes.” He smells good, woodsmoke and juniper, pine and cigarettes, something familiar enough to prickle, far away awareness digging at the soft sinew in the front of your brain. 

Pine and cigarettes. Pine… and cigarettes. 

It’s the last thing your rational mind pieces together before you’re lost to the darkness. 

#ghoap x reader #not edited so mind the mistakes #peach uses PET for the first time everyone #peaches writes #simon riley x reader #sorry had to get this out of the brain

[fatallyfalling]

Secrets & Sugarcubes ~ ♆

“ Sugarcube ? “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

warnings: hurt/comfort, typical Hunger Games violence/trauma, mention/insinuation of forced prostitution, ptsd, soft reassurances, possible slight ooc?? Finnick fears physical touch, end is very fluffy with some slight cuddling, etc.

{{ word count }} 4.0 k

{{ Prompt }} The two of you had a game, a way of trading secrets when the world felt too big and a simple touch felt like a burn on Finnick’s skin. You always made sure to keep a tin of sugarcubes in your kitchen just in case.

{{ a/n }} I swear i know how to write happy things guys i promise akfkakkdka the next one will be tooth rottingly sweet i promise please bear with me >< ! I hope the length of this one makes up for it being a day late as well. This also might seem a bit ooc for Finnick? Not sure - but here is my full headcanon, I'd suggest reading it before this to better understand why Finnick is behaving the way he is as it's explained a bit more in-depth. Reader and Finnick are also rather affectionate with one another but there isn’t an established relationship yet between them. Please enjoy <3

Tip, Tap, Tip-Tip, Tap

Your door creaked under the coded knock, a beat of silence following before it was repeated on the old wood. Your nose scrunched in a perplexed manner, groggily padding down the stairs in your night clothes to your front door, a glimpse at the mahogany grandfather clock in the entryway tells you it’s well past midnight. Your confusion pooled into a sense of concern as cold fingers gripped the metal door handle and gave a firm tug. You knew the knock and who was behind the door as you started speaking before even meeting his gaze, the scent of almonds and honey tainted by a sickly layer of Capital roses filling your senses.

“What’s going on? It’s late. You should be asle-“

Your sentence was cut short as your gaze met a pair of bleary sea-green eyes. You knew the look too well as a frown settled on your lips, your shoulders sinking with your heart as you took in the male before you. “Oh, Finn..” You mutter as you open the door further to let him inside. He hesitates in the doorway, looking lost, but you give a flickering nod of encouragement, convincing him to cross the threshold.

“Come on, I’ll make some tea..”

Nodding towards the kitchen, he wordlessly treks after you. Finnick’s steel-colored dress shirt was well wrinkled, unbuttoned to his clavicle, and sleeves pushed past his elbows. His face didn’t look much better than his suit. His bronze waves were messy, brows sewn in with a tight jaw, and hunched shoulders added to an unsteady demeanor. You could only assume what had occurred earlier in the night while attending the latest Capital party before the famed “Capital’s Darling” appeared on your doorstep. The growing pit in your stomach churned at the thought, and a muscle fluttered in your jaw as you led the victor deeper into your home.

Settling into what sometimes felt like a nightly routine, you get to work on the tea. You also place a small tin on the counter before Finnick, his gaze dancing between your fingers and the tin as you do so. His hands were trembling.

“I think the sweater you left the other day is upstairs. I can get it if you’d like,” You offer while setting the kettle to simmer on the stove. Finnick shakes his head with a soft, tight-lipped hum. He was distracted, flicking his thumbs against the pads of his index fingers over and over again.

“I thought it might help to change...” You allow while stumbling over an apology. You round the counter in a retreat to hunt down the knit item. But you misjudge the distance. Your shoulder accidentally brushes his in a fleeting move that instantly causes recoil and a sharp inhale on Finnick’s part as if he’d been singed by a flame.

“Please,”

The word was strained in his throat as anguish flooded his tanned features. Your eyes widened at your misstep, immediately backtracking to provide more physical space between you. But your frown only deepens as you stare at one another for a fleeting moment before Finnick all but crumples in on himself, descending to the hardwood floor.

Heartbreak splinters through your chest like a knife, bringing yourself down with him as knees meet the polished wood with a thud. Taking further notice of his trembling, it spread up his arms and across his torso now, fists bunching the fabric of his sleeves. The victor wet his lips as his eyes screwed shut, visibly trying to push back whatever threatened to plague his mind.

“I'm so sorry Finnick. Hey, hey- it’s okay, it’s just me, I'm here. I’m sorry, you’re safe with me. You’re going to be okay,” Apologetic pleas pour out in whispers, your head tilting to see beneath the bronze waves blocking his eyes. “You’re safe here,"

He doesn’t respond, only wetting his lips again with a thick swallow that moves his throat up and down. Your lips press to a thin line as you scan around you for anything that might help break the darkness obscuring his senses. Your own thoughts swim with curses for your mistake before your vision finally connects with the small forgotten tin on the counter. Cautiously you rise to retrieve it, your movements are slow, ensuring your hands remain within view, and keeping a safe distance between Finnick and yourself. Once the cool metal touches your skin you wrap your fingers around it, returning to kneel before the distressed Darling on your floor.

“Hey, do you remember our game ?”

A small ‘click’ chirps out as you open the tin. Dozens of small white sugarcubes sparkle inside, gently shifting to let the tin rest between you two. Finnick’s eyes peek out in a squint, dragging his gaze down to the tin and then back up to fixate on your face. He gives a tiny nod to indicate he’s listening, the trembling doesn’t stop.

“Okay,” you manage a small, warm smile briefly as you dip your head to peer into the tin. Plucking four cubes out, simultaneously sweeping your calves out from under you for a more relaxed sitting position, you gently place two near his knee while keeping the other two in your hand.

“One for yes, two for no,”

Gesturing to show the two options, gaining another nod from the trembling victor. At least his attention is focused on the sugar now. Sometimes it took much longer to bring him back enough just to open his eyes.

This was what Finnick Odair hid behind showboating grins and that “Golden Boy” Capital mask. The poltergeists of sticky, unwanted Capital fingers and lips left dozens of invisible burns engraved on his skin. You’d caught the bronze-haired male regularly picking an invisible piece of lint off his shirt or whichever shiny garment the stylists forced him to wear. Soon enough you managed to decipher the minute gesture as a tell to when the discomfort the tanned male felt on his skin too often was starting to eat away at his thoughts.

Never quite free of the forces from previous nights.

It tore open your heart to see him like this. Thrown to the mutts of the Capital under President Snow’s threat of his loved ones being tortured or worse killed if he didn’t comply, there really was no escape from the taloned clutches of winning the annual Hunger Games.

Nobody escapes The Games, and nobody ever wins.

As much as you desperately wanted to whisk the 65th victor away from his position he wouldn’t let you even if you tried, claiming he couldn’t bear to see you come into harm's way and that he’d rather endure the torture just to keep you safe. The seeping guilt you felt was immeasurable.

“I’ll begin, you just answer with the sugar okay ?”

Another small nod earns a second weak smile tugging at the corners of your mouth to reassure him.

“Are you okay ?”

There’s a pause as Finnick thinks, eyelids squeeze shut again but soon open as a shaky hand gently moves the tiny pieces of sugar forward.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt outside ?”

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt inside ?”

Another pause, and then he gently scoots one of the cubes backward.

One cube, ‘yes’

“Can you tell me what hurts inside ?”

Finnick hesitates, his brow twitches with a small crinkle of his nose. You wouldn’t pry if he wasn’t ready, you’re patience was strong and you’d spend all night passing sugar on the floor if it meant he could find peace of mind. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,”

Finnick didn’t have many choices or say in life due to his position in the capital, so you found providing clear options to be rather grounding for the Bronze-haired male. It gave him a sense of stability and control over himself and what was occurring around him. Keeping the questions of your game simple and to the point in turn made his responses quick, a distraction technique you had picked up a while back to combat your own struggles post-games.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“That’s okay,” your small smile strengthens as you give him a tender look, not of pity but empathy. “Can I help?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Please…”

The repeated word is barely above a whisper. If you hadn’t been hyper-fixated on him you might not have caught the parting of his lips that dripped the morsel of sound. His gaze has moved up from the floor to meet yours, wide sea-green irises soft in a pleading expression. You simply nod, assuring him you’re staying right where you are. The tension in his body visibly releases as the reassurances seem to sink in. Gingerly, he releases his biceps, picking at an invisible speck of dust on his sleeve. He drags a hand through his tousled hair before taking it down his face to rub his eyelids. He inhales a deep, shaky breath. You let him take his time to recuperate. Once his hand returns to his lap and he meets your eyesight you resume the verbal questionnaire.

“Do you want your sweater ?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Okay, just a second,” you smile warmly, he nods, and you slowly stand, making your way upstairs, finding the ivory knit sweater on your bedroom dresser right where he’d left it. Turning around, you retrace your steps back to the kitchen, making sure to avoid the steps that creak louder than others on your way. “Here you go,”

Placing the sweater down as you return to sit with the Darling, he waits for your hands to leave the fabric before picking up the thick material and tugging it over his head. It takes a minute to adjust the layers and his sitting position so they’re comfortable but when he’s done the steel grey button-up collar peeks out from under the angled neckline of the ivory sweater along with the tails of the neutral fabric sticking out under the bottom hem. The ends of the sleeves are stretched around his fingers to mimic mittens. “Better ?” You offer while he takes a moment to breathe in the familiar scent. The smell of Capital roses is quickly suffocated in his familiar warm almond and honey cologne mixing with your scent clinging to the sweater. A sweet smile softens your cheeks as he allows a small lopsided smile with a nod and a hum, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the comfort.

“Very much so.”

“Good,” you nod, “Do you want the citrus tea you like so much? The one with the cinnamon?” Quirking a brow with a small tilt of your head.

“mhm,”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Very well,” you smile sweetly, rising again to move back into the kitchen. You gently open a cupboard, plucking a viridian mug off the shelf for the Darling along with your usual mug. A delicate clink echos in the otherwise quiet space as you set the ceramics on the counter. Finnick has turned to peek up and watch.

His sea-green eyes were still big and pleading, not really ready to stand but also not wanting to be away from you. With the counter cutting off just below his irises and his bronze hair tossed around and fluffy like that you couldn’t help being reminded of a small puppy. You mouth another reassurance with a wink as your cheeks warm, pulling open a drawer to pick up two small objects. They’re burnished silver spheres of metal, split in half but held by a tiny latch and speckled in countless minuscule holes for the nectar of the teas to slip through.

Reaching for two narrow jars on your counter you slide them towards your workspace and unstick each lid with an odd “pop”. Whisps of warm cinnamon, citrus, cloves, and black tea mix with the scent of herbs and spices more aligned with your tastes. The teas were a luxury gift from Mags on your birthday a year or two ago. You only use them on special occasions or nights like these.

You take a small spoon and gingerly press the correct amount of leaves in each steeper, adding a few extra to Finnick’s as he preferred a more prominent flavor. Afterward, you lower the metal orbs into their respective mug and quietly clean your workspace. Once the items are back in place you turn and just about jump out of your skin with a yelp of surprise as the tea kettle’s shrill whistle sings loud and clear.

Quickly you fumble for a cloth on a hook beside the wide farmhouse sink. Wrapping it around the heated handle of the kettle you remove it from the flames and onto an unused burner before shutting off the stove. Your heart pounds as adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. A curse dances off your tongue but your embarrassment is short-lived as a coy chuckle fills your ears, wrapping around your senses like a soft blanket. A relieving warmth weaves its way through your ribs and melts the icy heartache as you hear Finnick laugh again. Turning towards the sound you spot the bronze-haired male now standing at the counter, his forearms leaning on the cool stone. His hands are barely trembling now although his eyes seem far away but his demeanor has seemed to regain its footing, a flickering of his naturally charismatic aura passes through his pointed-to-white teeth in the form of a lopsided smile. Color has started to ebb its way back into his tanned cheeks. That warmth in your ribcage spreads up your neck but you try to shove it back down. The components of your game; all four sugarcubes and the tin are sitting beside his elbow on the counter. You cross your arms over your chest loosely, narrowing your eyes at him in a playful manner.

“It’s not funny,”

“You’re right it’s hilarious,” Finnick drawls, his tone cocky.

An exasperated huff puffs out your chest followed by a sarcastic roll of our eyes. “There’s the Finnick Odair I know and Love,” You sigh, mischief flickers in those sea-green eyes. Carefully bringing the kettle over after it has a moment to cool you pour the boiling water as evenly as you can before returning it to the stove. A comforting quiet falls over the two of you while watching the liquid within the mugs change color. Eventually, your gaze shifts to watching Finnick slowly build a tiny pyramid out of the sugarcubes. The pristine wall of white crystals stands for all but ten seconds (not even) before the victor’s gentle tap sends it crumbling.

The joy from moments ago dissipates into something melancholic.

“Are you okay…?” You ask again, a crease forming between your brows as you search his sea-green eyes for any signs. Finnick gives you another tight-lipped hum, his smile has slipped away and you notice the set in his jaw returns. His gaze shifts from his folded hands to the sugar close by and hesitantly plucks up two of the four pieces.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Still inside…?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Still no touching?” Your voice is tender in a reassuring manner.

Two cubes, ‘yes’

Finnick understands that he’s safe. You’ll respect any boundary he chooses. You’re one of his few ‘safe’ individuals that he allows to fully trust besides Johanna, Mags, and Annie. Unfortunately, Annie was always rather emotionally distraught, meaning Finnick couldn’t be around her for long periods due to her tendency to claw at people during her episodes. It broke his heart to see the fire-haired victor he mentored through an awful arena be left so broken and afraid with limited ability to help her. But you did your best to pick up the slack in her care.

You were all damaged people just trying to survive the best you could with the hand you’d been dealt. No matter the cruelty of the dealer.

While caught up in your thoughts, the tea finished steeping. Gently, you slide the viridian mug of citrusy spices towards Finnick, who allows a small thanks and his “compliments to the chef” while plucking two sugarcubes from his fallen stack and dropping them into the burnt orange liquid.

“My pleasure,” you hum, fixing your tea how you like it and stirring the small steeper around the mug before lifting it from the drink and setting it off to the side. Finnick’s steeper soon follows. You’ll clean the sticky residue later.

Hot ceramic warms your fingertips as they curl around the mug, lifting it to your lips and parting them to give a gentle blow. Ripples of tea bounce around the rim, causing the curls of steam to dance around your cheeks. You inhale the Herbs deeply, and a calm feeling washes over your shoulders. The first sip immediately warms your insides as it goes down, observing the same reaction on Finnick as he takes a long swig of the tea followed by a hum of pleasure.

“Don’t burn your tongue it's still hot,” you murmur into your drink, the emitted sound coming out a bit warped. A ghost of a smile crosses the Darling’s face at your words, though he doesn’t reply, preferring another sip of the luxurious tea.

You already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of his dislike for the stinging on his tongue tomorrow from the burn.

You wish to reach out to him, brush your knuckles against his, or cup his stupidly handsome face in your hands, holding him close till all is better, but you can’t. You won’t. His safety and comfort is your priority right now, and you’ll always give him space when asked. You knew all too well what violation of space felt like.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You question the Darling while searching those sea-green eyes for any signs of pain.

Finnick offers a slight nod, casting a glance in your direction while adjusting the sugar.

One cube, ‘yes’

You nod in understanding. Even though the ache inside his chest still hurt you at least managed to help him start to move past it. The two of you stay at the counter for a long while. Secrets pass back and forth via sugarcube and Finnick has another cup of tea. You move in quiet tandem with one another as he preps the tea and you clean up your steeper and mug in the sink. Softly you hum a small rhyming tune from your childhood as you scrub along the inside of your mug, there’s a sense of domesticity in the air and you can’t help feeling more at ease.

Once everything is clean and put away except the sugarcubes you find yourself on your living room sofa, there’s a space between where your knees are tucked up against you and where Finnick sits. The tin of white crystals sits in that space, the Darling victor plucking up cubes every once in a while to suck on. He could eat all of them and you wouldn’t have minded.

The room is dimly lit, just the light from a lantern on the unused desk beside the fireplace. A soft glow is painted across Finnick’s features that makes his eyes sparkle and spread warmth up your cheeks, the tips of your ears surely going red. You try to suffocate the warmth as it threatens to bubble up past your grasp.

As time passes Finnick eventually speaks of what happened. You listen with full attention and offer much sympathy and reassurance once he’s finished. You thank the charming male for allowing himself to be open with you and he admits, “It’s easy to be an open book when it’s you,” and those sea-green irises seem to light up even more. That warmth twists your insides as your stomach does what feels like a backflip. “Thank you…for letting me in tonight,” he murmurs with that perfect smile, the outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and dimples press into his cheeks. The smile you return is equally as wide and sweet.

“Always. I’ll always be here Finn, and you’re welcome to stay here if you want tonight. There’s plenty of space,” You breathe through a slight laugh. The big house you were gifted in Victor’s Village was far too big to have just yourself anyway and this wouldn’t be the first time the Darling spent the night.

With a nod and a pat to the space between you, you nod towards the stairs before moving to snuff out the lantern. Finnick follows, closing the sugarcube tin and placing it on the coffee table. Quietly you two head upstairs, small giggles peppering the air as the stairs creak.

When you enter your bedroom you rummage in a drawer for a pair of sweats you had ‘borrowed’ from the Darling a while ago when it had been your turn to appear at his doorstep with tears in your eyes. “Here,” you speak gently while holding them out. A cheshire smirk creeps over Finnick’s face as he takes the pants.

“So that’s where these went~”

You shush him with a sarcastic wave of your hand, letting him go into the bathroom to change while you move to sit cross-legged on the plush mattress. You preferred sleeping with many soft blankets and pillows like your own nest. It helped you feel safe when alone - though most would end up kicked off or stolen by the furnace of a man you often shared the bed with. Your revenge usually came in the morning as your icy fingers assaulted the warmth of his lower back with a fit of laughter.

You smile tenderly at the thought as Finnick reappears.

“What?” He asks.

That coy smirk is still plastered on his lips as he comes over to sit beside you. “Hm? Oh - nothing. Lay down, I’m tired." You offer with a hum. He nods before joining you under the covers. You face one another, looking into each other's eyes. Slowly, you feel his hand creep over to yours and interlace your pinkie fingers.

“Is this okay?” Those heart-melting puppy dog eyes return. You can’t help the sweet smile on your face and the warmth on your cheeks.

“Always.”

{{ taglist }}

@justtrying2getby

#fanfic #fanfiction #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #the hunger games #thg #x reader fanfic #fanfic writing #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #thg finnick #finnick fanfic #hunger games finnick #the hunger games trilogy #finnick odair oneshot #oneshot #thg fic #thg imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick x oc #hurt/comfort #thg fanfiction #catching fire #the hunger games catching fire #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #x reader fanfiction

[pristinekanesays]

🦋Life Is Strange: With A Sick S/O

🦋 just like the good ol' title, how the crew react when you become sick

🐺 GN!Reader, no specific pronouns are mentioned!

🦋 warnings: swearing, mentions of the reader having a cold & coughing/sneezing a lot, fluff, cute ass stuff, nathan not giving a rats ass tbh

🎧A/N: hey dudes, i'm back and i've been missin' you, feel free to request somethin'! might be a little short and the writing style has changed, feels gooooood to be back >:D.

🦋Chloe Price:

🤍| she'll joke around with you first like 'hey maybe you caught something from that snotty-nosed kid down the street' or laugh and plead that you don't sneeze on her or somethin'.

🤍| but seriously, she's fuckin' freaked especially if you've got a pretty bad cold or cough.

🤍| props to her though, she might be a bit overboard when you're sick but at least she cares.

🤍| she can't cook all that great but hey, if life ain't going so good for you then she'll somehow convince joyce to let you stay (much against davids wishes) and then you can have all the homemade chicken soup you want.

🤍| will still blast her music as loud as she wants unless you have a pretty nasty headache then she'll turn it down a little. (only a little)

🍂Kate Marsh:

🤍| an angel in disguise with the most beautiful white wings, she's there when you need her and will literally jump when you call.

🤍| will ask if your okay (like you literally aren't basically fighting for your life) then shake her head like a disappointed mother when she hears your hoarse voice.

🤍| if you're still trying to attend class or do stuff while you're sick, then she'll be the girl rushing after you and trying to get you back to your dorm.

🤍| i've said this before, kate can definitely cook but if you're not eating then she'll settle for buying fast food you like (because at least you're not dying of starvation).

🤍| checks up on you occasionally but not every second, she acts like if she even turns a lamp on that you'll die on the spot or combust into thin air.

📷 Max Caulfield:

🤍| kinda like warren, refers to you being sick as a 'total bummer' but she doesn't mean it in a way to bash you for being sick, only really to make you laugh or roll your eyes.

🤍| she texts you a few times a day when your sick, to check up on you or to occasionally..send you memes.

🤍| visits you sometimes after class, either to bring you food or just to see if you're still alive and breathin'.

🤍| when she finally gets some time to spend with you, she'll sit down beside you and show you photos that she's taken of you before you got sick. (including the one of you in a banana suit.)

🤍| if you're chilling in her dorm while she's in class, then she'll leave some music discs out for you in case you ever get sick of the silence.

🎭Rachel Amber:

🤍| she's busy cracking jokes half of the time and when you joke back she'll hit you with a 'i'm not the one coughing and sneezing everywhere, am i?'.

🤍| she won't be able to check up on you every second since she's busy with class, drama & the tempest but will still try to make time for you.

🤍| will send you updates about what she's doing though, for example 'at drama lab, still doing good?' or 'class sucks, hope ur okay.'

🤍| she can cook, yeah! but rachel seems like the type of person to eat it out of the tin instead of making it homemade (she's just like me)

🤍| she's kinda like victoria in a way that she loves you but she cannot risk being sick, especially with all the shit she's gotta do.

🎬 Victoria Chase:

🤍| she cares and is definitely worried when you suddenly become sick but tries to pretend that she doesn't, at least not that much.

🤍| she's busy with a lot of stuff so she can't always be there when you need her but she'll try to be.

🤍| so filthy rich that it's mind-blowing, she can buy you whatever, whenever you want it.

🤍| she'll text you after she's done everything she needs to do and her schedule is clear, will ask if you need anything picked up or if you're feeling any better since the last time she saw you.

🤍| okay, if you don't like nathan then i'm sorry!! she's gonna send him to give you stuff or check up on you, even if you guys literally despise each other.

🎮 Warren Graham:

🤍| he's super sweet, so no worries! he'll make sure to check up on you and give you advice whenever you need it.

🤍| doesn't care about getting sick, he's still down to hang whenever and will look at you with an awkward but reassuring smile when you're coughing your ass off.

🤍| he's the type to rub your back bro even if he knows he's gonna catch your nasty ass cold and be stuck in bed for days.

🤍| if you're okay with touch then he'll also hold your hand when he's beside you and tell you that this is gonna pass, so don't worry!!

🤍| he's chill so he might let you get up and do shit but will definitely be scared that you'll just collapse out of nowhere, even if you've only got a painless cold he's still gonna make sure you're okay.

🤍| he didn't get any affection from his father, ever. so it's gonna be hard for him to try and care for you when you're sick.

🤍| sometimes just ends up buying you stuff to make up for not being there when you need him, if you and victoria are on good terms then he'll probably just ask her if she can get you meds or anything else that can help you. (LAZYYY ASSS!!! D:&lt;)

🤍| checks up on you when he can but will try to pretend that he hasn't been fearing for your life the whole time he's been busy, dude it's a cold.

🤍| rich just like vic! he can bring you whatever you want, just ask and he'll tiptoe through that door like a sims 2 burglar with the things you asked for in hand.

🤍| apart from that though, just ask victoria or something if you ever need company because his brain will explode and he'll look at you all dumbfounded 'n shit.

#🤍kane's headcanons #nathan prescott x reader #kate marsh x reader #victoria chase x reader #max caulfield x reader #chloe price x fem!reader #rachel amber x reader #warren graham x reader #lis headcanons #life is strange headcanons #chloe price x reader

[seraphdreams]

“HIGH, HARU.”

sanzu haruchiyo / fem!reader.

contains. very dark content. yandere!sanzu, manipulation, drugs, obsessive behavior, slight aggression, distorted perceptions of love, guns. 18+ mdni.

author’s note. this had been something i’ve been thinking about for about a year so i decided to write it out a little.

synopsis. how far does your love go for sanzu? how far does his go?

word count. 1.3k

the way others would describe your relationship with sanzu is totally different from how you would. to you, he was a loving man; albeit, eccentric at times but held such a deep love for you that if you were to cut into his skin, it’d bleed you. if you weren’t so madly infatuated, you’d understand that he’s quite an obsessive lover, a toxic fit to the passion and emotion you’d display with him.

the truth is, haruchiyo never learned to love until he met you. his love was overwhelming yet it comforted your broken soul. his past seemed to justify about every single one of his actions. and you loved him. no matter what, you will always love him.

it started from the span of a few days ago. sanzu would come home, eyes low with fatigue written all over his features. “haru, you look so tired.. you okay?” he’d brush you off, mumbling about how he’s always this way, yet his face felt cold in your hands. in fact, his whole body was alarmingly cold. it was as if you slept with a living corpse and woke up to one as well—he wasn’t doing good.

for a while you’d been speculating about the culprit, those mysterious pills he took day in and day out. tins and bottles of them were scattered around your penthouse with no sign of ever going. you cared about haruchiyo more than you cared for yourself; bringing up your thoughts with him couldn’t hurt.

“don’t you think it’s time to quit?” you query as you stand in the hallway, your lover a few feet from the front door. he scoffs as he takes off his shoes one by one, while ridding himself of his usual bloodstained suit jacket and tie. “quit what?” he fully straightens himself out to look at you, the same tired glance in his eyes. “those pills. they aren’t doing you any good..” you start off before your voice unexpectedly gets quieter. “i don’t want you gone from them.”

he chuckles, softly, while making his way to you. there’s a grin on his face, one that mocks you, makes you feel feeble. he ruffles your hair as he walks past you and to the bedroom. “don’t worry about me, ‘m fine.”

you let out a deep sigh, starting up again. “but you’re n—” he swings back around, his eyes narrowed as if he had gotten ticked off just that quick. “didn’t i just say i was fine? get to bed.”

for the most part, haru slept like a baby with you tightly grasped in his arms. he wasn’t the type to sleep lightly, he could sleep through a break-in if you let him. yet, you were wide awake, unable to chase any form of slumber. your thoughts raced through your mind at a thousand miles per hour. your heartbeat too fast almost as if you’d run yourself a heart attack. it was a struggle but you managed to free yourself from sanzu’s arms, getting up and heading to all the various spots where you knew he kept his pills.

one bottle at a time, you poured them into the toilet until there were no more in the last tin. turning your head, you pulled down on the handle and flushed, doing away with the empty bottles and settling back into bed.

once morning came, you arose to your lover not accompanying you in bed. you figured he’d be heading out for work by now so you joined him in the kitchen.

“baby, the craziest thing happened.”

your heart pounded at his statement. “hm?” you tried to occupy yourself with the coffee pot to stave off any nerves but any fool could tell that you weren’t getting too far.

“i could’ve swore you left me in bed last night.”

“i went to use the bathroom.” you respond bluntly.

“and now it seems like my medicine tin went missing.”

you shot your eyes up from the pot to look at sanzu. he wasn’t an idiot, far from it. “went missing? did you look everywhere?”

he stares blankly for a second before closing in on you. “you think i’m fucking stupid, huh?” you walked backwards until you felt the counter against your lower back. “you don’t take pills, so would you like to tell me where my shit went?”

your throat felt scratchy and dry as you attempted to rasp out the words. “i-i flushed them..” before he could inch out another word, you continue. “i care about you, haru! i don’t want you dying on me.”

“like fucking hell you care about me.” his voice isn’t a yell, but it isn’t nearly as close to being his normal tone. “i’m fucking crazy, you know that. i need those pills, they help me.”

each one of his words felt like a knife to the heart. you couldn’t believe that the man who’d go through hell and back for you would also treat you as if you were nothing.

“they don’t help, haru. they’re making you worse.”

he steps away, slowly. returning to his original position, he takes one of the bottles in hand, turning to show you the label. “my fucking name is written on this shit, it’s prescribed. the fuck you mean they’re making me worse?”

“it’s not even prescribed by a real doctor, you get it from a dealer!” you didn’t mean for your words to project like they did and it came as a shock to sanzu. he’s still for a moment in disbelief before grabbing his coat and walking out the door. “i’ll deal with you when i get home.”

you spent majority of that afternoon cleaning up to calm your nerves in any sort of way, yet the tears never stopped. it was creeping close to the time when he’d usually come home and you found solace in hiding from him in your spacious apartment.

the front door clicks, then opens.

“mighty clean around here.” he comments, looking around the space. it’s silent and you hoped he couldn’t hear the pounding of your heart through your chest. footsteps crept here and there as if he was searching for you. he knew where you were, he was just giving you some time to play into delusion.

“you bitch!”

his grip on your wrist is taut as he pulls you from your hiding space, aggressively laying you out on the couch. he’s hovering over you, gun in one hand as the other finally lets go of your arm.

“haru, i love you! i love you so much, haru! i love you, i love you!” you chant mindlessly as if it’d snap him out of whatever trance he was in. his eyes were unreadable, you couldn’t tell what emotion he was feeling or what move he’d make next. he used his gun to caress your face, finding joy in the way you continued to babble. “you love me?”

quickly, you nod your head. “i love you so much! if you killed me right now, i’d still love you!”

pleased with your answer and the uncontrollable tears streaming from your eyes, he lets up. with his gun tossed to the side and his position switched from hovering to standing over you, he pulls you up in his arms.

unpredictable he is.

“let’s talk this out, okay?”

you nod your head, holding onto his wrist as he leads you from the living room to the bedroom. he sits at the edge, pulling you on top of his lap. “you say you love me so.. i’m gonna do whatever i want even if it kills me, and you’re not gonna say a word, right?”

you nod your head against his chest.

“‘s like you been cryin’ all day. you must be thirsty.” he holds you in his arms as he takes you to the kitchen. “let’s get you some water, good girl.”

“my good girl, i do this ‘cause i love you.”

tags - @shujismoke @creepngs @koucaine @mikeyswaifuuu @meena-in-a-nutshell @getougeko @imkumichan @messofavs @saaraunicorn @cloudnitee @ipetnero @aasouthteranoswife @saffronity @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @stffychn @aki-and-saltfish @withlovetengen @zuuki @keooooothings @tojitsukaisen @bunnyyamor @sauzysushi @luvhaitani @bluerskiees @kasaslovr

#sanzu x reader #haruchiyo sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo x reader #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #sanzu x you #sanzu x y/n #sanzu haruchiyo x y/n #sanzu haruchiyo x you #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo rev smut #sanzu smut #sanzu x reader smut

[itsscromp]

Spending Christmas with Jason Todd for the first time after his resurrection?

Jason todd x reader

Oh... I like this idea a lot, I think y/n would do anything to make Jason feel at home again with the holidays. Word count:1.2K

Jason being revived was overwhelming as it is, But you were glad to have your best friend back... But you could tell the whole experience left him shaken, I mean he literally died and was brought back to life, Not only that you had to guide him through everything as he also lost his memories as well.

Christmas was coming up really fast and it's usually one of Jason's favourite holidays, Maybe this will help him remember just a little bit, Not a lot but a little bit. Baby steps. So you went out and got a Christmas tree for the Belfry, Beginning to decorate it soon after putting it up.

"What's all this y/n ??" Jason looked over from his training.

"Oh I'm just setting up the Christmas tree" You said while continuing to decorate it. You could hear Jason lightly huff before heading back to his training, Sighing softly, you continued decorating the tree.

After which, you went out the next day and got gifts for the others. You were struggling to find a gift for Jason, Something that he might like. It almost took you 5 hours until you found a familiar comic book... It was Jason's favourite comic book. You rushed in and got it, Quickly going back to the belfry and then wrapping it all up, Placing it under the tree.

Jason saw you rush in and shook his head lightly, He had no time for Christmas or anything else, He had to continue training to get back out as Red Hood. Dick saw you trying to do this to help him remember... He gently went over to you.

"Y/n... I know this has been tough on you and Jason, But you can't just rush his memories back. It's not how it works..." He placed a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it.

"I know... I'm trying not to but... It's been 5 months since he came back and... I'm worried that he might not be able to ever remember it... remember anything." He could see the worry in your eye.

"Baby steps y/n... I promise" he smiled reassuringly.

Christmas Eve rolled around and you and Jason were tasked with patrolling Gotham for the night, As usual this time of the year, crime around Gotham picks up rapidly. Suiting up and then heading out. You two mostly stopped petty theft from charity tins and such. But the real kicker in the jaw, was when the clock struck midnight, Christmas day. You two saw a bright beam go into the sky, soon which it got rapidly cold very quickly.

"Freeze..." You said shuddering.

"Quickly we have to stop him" He then grappled a nearby building, ready to take him down.

"No wait, Jason !!" You quickly followed him, You both needed to come up with a plan before trying to take freeze down. The comms from the belfry picked up but were becoming choppy because of the unexpected storm.

"Crap, the belfry is losing reception" You said to him.

"Then let's give him a Christmas he'll never forget" You could tell he was smirking under his mask.

Reaching the area, You both went up the building only to find what looked like a rather large machine, Whatever was going on, that machine had to be the cause of it.

Jason was quick to head down and try and turn it off, only to be knocked away by Mr freeze. "Get away from my storm machine !!" He threatened while aiming his freeze gun at him.

Jumping down, you landed in front of Jason protecting him from harm. "Looks like you'll be on Santa's bad list" You smirked, looking over and nodding at Jason.

"You two won't be able to stop me this time" He charged his freeze gun before shooting at you both, but soon quickly dodging his attack.

"I'll distract him, you take care of the machine !!" Jason said to you as you nodded.

Jason put up a good fight, the training was coming back to him... He was slowly starting to remember... During this, he had his flashback where you and him were sparing. Before you became an official member of the bat family, He would always knock you on your ass, but it always ended in laughs, You... were his friend...

Meanwhile, you got to work decoding the machine to stop the machine from plunging Gotham into an ice age, You frantically looked over as freeze. who after knocking Jason over, Aimed his gun at you and shot a beam at you... Before you could even react, you were pushed out of the way, falling to the ground... looking over to see Jason who is now trapped in ice. "RED HOOD !!!" You rushed over trying to get him out of the ice. But then... something happened... Jason started to glow... almost in the colours of the Lazarus pit. Soon he released a burst of energy, Freeing him from the ice he was once trapped in.

"You're gonna get it now Freeze !!" He yelled and then lunged into action again, Freeze was baffled and overwhelmed by what was happening, You managed to decode the machine in time and stopped it, soon releasing Gotham out of the freezing hellscape, But them you heard glass smash as Jason smashed his helmet open, repeatedly punching him... He was going to kill him.

"Red hood stop !!!!" You grabbed his wrists before he could do any further damage. "This isn't the way..." You knew Jason had different philosophies to justice, but again he lost his memories and all the training went away... But he quickly calmed down as he got up when the police arrived. "Let's go" Was all he said as you two headed back to the Belfry.

Once back, Jason unmasks himself and takes a deep breath, Looking over at you. "Y/n... I.. I don't know what came over me... I saw you in danger and then... well everything happened..." He looked away for a bit before you went over to him. "Jason... I know everything has been hard for you since you were brought back..." You could see how this still affected him. "But the important thing is, we stopped him in the end..." You smiled softly. Jason simply nodding, but you could see the hint of a smile.

"Oh wait" You rushed over to the Christmas tree quickly pulling out his gift and rushing over to him. "Merry Christmas" You handed him his gift.

Jason was slightly taken aback by this offering but nonetheless accepted, Opening the gift, he saw the comic... You looked up at his face but saw no glint of remembrance in his eyes, You were saddened... But you tried.

As you turned away, Jason quickly grabbed you and pulled you into a tight hug, You were baffled by what happened before he pulled you out, Seeing the remembrance in his eyes... He remembered you. "Y/n..."

You smiled as your bottom lip wobbled a little. "Welcome back buddy"

"Merry Christmas Pal..." He pulled you back into a tight hug as you did as well, The first Christmas since Jason's revival... Who would've thought it would be this good.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

#platonic #reader insert #jason todd gotham knights #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood gotham knights #red hood x reader #red hood #gotham knights

[letters-unsending]

No. 43

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Henchman x Scientist x Villain in small snippets

////

“I would lay down my life for you, my lord.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t, [Henchman].” Villain glanced up from their papers. “You signed off on any life debts when you took this job. It’d be a poor investment.”

////

“While I appreciate your dedication and obvious drive toward the task at hand, there is no reason to continue with such…vigor.” Villain stood at the entrance to Scientist’s office. Their desk was rife with paper, coffee cups and tangled wires—a fire risk that’d he’d address at a later date—and Scientist worked overtop the mess, hands never stopping as they turned to acknowledge Villain.

“Yes, yes, it’s quite late isn’t it? I’ll be closing shop soon, I promise, but while you’re here, do you mind testing this out?” Scientist grabbed a device from a drawer and presented it to Villain.

Villain eyed the curve of metal, gleaming darkly in Scientists palm. “On the condition that you go home and get some rest.”

“You drive a hard bargain, boss.” Scientist laughed, skin crinkling at the edges of their tired eyes. “Now, come here.”

////

“Surely, this is unnecessary,” Villain argued as Scientist combed back his hair. They’d added gel and the brush tugged at his scalp.

“Supervillain is strict on presentation.” Henchman muttered, holding up a tie against Villain’s chest, assessing the color. He brought up another and squinted.

“The red one will do just fine, darling.” Scientist paused, leaning over Villain’s shoulder to assess the options. Villain blinked as Scientist kept their hand on his temple and reached with their other hand to feel the fabric of the tie, running their thumb over the textured pattern. “He always looks rather dashing in red, wouldn’t you agree?”

Henchman raised a brow at Scientist as Villain straightened in his seat.

“Yes, it’s a quite shame we don’t see that red suit of yours anymore, [Villain].”

“It’s an impractical color for subterfuge.” Villain breathed a sigh of relief as Scientist shifted back and resumed focus on his hair. “And the heroes have favored the color as of late. I would like to prevent any misconceptions.”

////

“You two are supposed to be on holiday.”

“We are.” Henchman raised two steaming tins and a wrapped plate. “Just came in to visit.”

They were both red in their cheeks and noses, and wrapped in thick coats. Scientist worked their scarf off their neck and slung it over Villain’s armor stand.

“I gave you time off,” Villain insisted as Henchman set the food on Villain’s counter, “time to visit your friends and family. You don’t have—you’re not obligated to spend your vacation here.”

Scientist sighed and worked their gloves off. Humming a tune, Henchman drifted past Scientist and patted Villain on the shoulder; his hand still carried the warmth of the trays. “Come on, let’s eat before the food gets cold.”

Once they’d both taken off their winter gear, they settled down at the cramped table in Villain’s kitchen and talked about Scientist’s most recent invention. Villain chewed on something spicy and gum-achingly sweet as Henchman tried to decode Scientist’s mathematical ramblings into words Villain could comprehend.

////

“[Villain], dear, would you pass me that book?” Scientist called.

Villain almost bumped into the shelf as he turned toward Henchman. “That must’ve been meant for you.”

“I don’t have a book.” Henchman smiled, waving his empty hands.

Villain stared as Henchman for a beat, then gazed at the book in his hand, then looked at Henchman once more before swiveling around and passing the book into Scientist’s waiting grasp. Scientist smiled at him in thanks and returned to frantically penning down their latest theorem.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Villain turned back to Henchman. “They must be really focused.”

“Certainly, dear.” Henchman assured.

#writeblr #villain #writing prompt #hero #prompt #villain prompt #writing #hero prompt #villain x henchman #villain x scientist #scientist x henchman #henchman x villain x scientist #polyamory #polycule #could be interpreted as qpr #snippet #drabble #fluff #heroes and villains

[allzelemonz]

Thickness: Bill Williamson X Male Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 22, Intercrural Sex Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Prior failed sex with injury, mention of blood, a lesson in lubrication, Bill’s thighs getting the attention they deserve, intercrural sex, prepping, aftercare, kissing, hand job, soft sex, fluff Summary: After a painful failed attempt at typical intimacy, Bill has an idea that won’t worsen his injury.

Bill groans as he sits down and you carefully help him lay back on his bedroll.

“Sorry.” You mutter, smiling down at him. “Didn’t mean to hurt you like that, sweetheart.”

Bill pulls you down with him, a hand on your cheek to guide you to a kiss. “Ain’t yer fault, shoulda known it weren’t enough pomade.”

“I’m stretching you out from here on, okay?”

Bill nods. “I ain’t complainin’ there.”

You lean back in to kiss him but pull back when he hisses.

“Shit…” He mutters. “‘m still…”

“I can see that.” You laugh lightly, glancing down at the evident tent in Bill’s pants. “I am too.”

Bill’s face flushes. “I…I got ‘n idea.”

“I’m not fucking you now, Bill-“

“It ain’t that!” He grumbles. “Somethin’ I saw in one a’ them pictures from the fence in Saint Denis.”

“Okay, okay.” You press a kiss to his cheek. “What is it?”

He coughs awkwardly. “Ya, uh… ya use my legs instead.”

Your eyes trail from Bill’s face and down to his thick legs. His thighs strain against his pants even when they’re a size too big. Thick, hairy, and perfect just like the rest of Bill.

“You don’t think it’ll hurt?”

“Not if ya do it from the front.” Bill mutters. “I ain’t made a’ glass.”

“No.” You sigh. “But you do have blood dripping out of you because I was too rough and I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Ya still could fuck me with the blood, I ain’t picky.”

You stare down at him before shaking your head. “Fine. Thighs. I still need pomade or something.”

“Might be some in the box.”

You give Bill a quick kiss before shuffling over to the container Bill usually manages to keep somewhat full of pomade or oil or jelly stuff. At the bottom is a single tin of some jelly you’ve never heard of but it looks like enough. Bill has worked his pants off for the second time tonight, now unbuttoning his shirt and you follow suit until you’re both much more bare than you were in the woods an hour ago.

Bill lays himself on his back, clearly suppressing winces as he shuffles on his ass until he’s comfortable. “‘m ready.”

You almost protest. A couple of blow jobs or a bit of grinding might be easier and more familiar, but seeing Bill’s thighs in front of you makes a shiver of anticipation shoot through your skin. A nude Bill is always quite a sight. He’s usually a little sweaty, hair slicked every which way in its abundance over flushed skin. His extra weight makes him look like he might be a soft man but that only ever tends to be for you. Your eyes trail over him, simply admiring for a moment before you shuffle between Bill’s spread legs.

Instead of your focus being on his ass like usual, you turn your head to look at the inside of his meaty thigh. There are little marks there from the last time you were here, probably just before sucking him off or licking him clean. You dip a few fingers into the tin of jelly and slowly bring it to Bill’s skin. He hisses from the cold contact but settles again easily enough. A glance up shows that he’s watching as you massage his thigh, his face about as red as the straining dick settled on his stomach. You give his other thigh the same treatment, slicking it with jelly until it’s coated enough that your fingers slide over without restraint.

You look up at Bill, giving his knee a gentle squeeze. “On your side, sweetheart.”

Bill nods like he’s in a trace, shifting to lay on his side. You settle in front of him, situating legs to get yourself aligned enough. Bill gets his arms around you, clinging tightly. You smooth out his messed up hair and give him a kiss before shifting your hips. The tip of your dick brushes the crease between Bill’s squished-together thighs and you gasp at the sensation. It’s not unlike the feeling of his ass cheeks, just a little different. You shift again and Bill gives you some room as your dick slides between his thighs, engulfing you as warmly as his ass might. His balls nearly rest on top of your dick and Bill squirms a bit, shifting his legs enough to make you groan.

“Damn you feel good, Bill.” You mutter, idly moving your hips.

“C-Can ya…” He murmurs, face somewhat hidden in your shoulder. “Yer hand.”

You nod lightly, pressing a kiss to his chest. Slowly you rock your hips as your hand comes down to glide over his dick with the help of the jelly left on your skin. Bill moans, stifling what he can now that you're in camp. You give him careful thrusts, still a little weary after nearly tearing him open before, but Bill starts to move with you. He shifts his thighs and your dick feels so perfectly squished and warm that you can’t help pick up the pace. Your hand moves in time, pumping Bill while you give his neck whatever messy kisses you can manage.

Bill cums first, the friction against both his balls and his dick overwhelming him enough to squeeze his thighs together. It feels like clenching during a regular fuck and the tightness makes your breath hitch. Your hand leaves Bill’s softening dick to wander over his hip, squeezing a bit at the skin. A few thrusts later you release, spurting between Bill’s thighs and making the sensation impossibly warmer for a few seconds. You carefully pull away as Bill spreads his legs and rolls onto his back to catch his breath. When you sit up and look down at him you find a much more messy sight than you ever have. Bill’s chest is covered in his cum, nothing new, but his thighs are now a mess of jelly and cum atop flushed skin.

“Jeez, Bill.” You smile, leaning down to kiss him. “You’re a mess.”

Bill glances down at your chest. “So ‘r you.”

A look down reveals a bit of Bill’s cum on you as well. “That rag in your pocket still?”

“Mm-hm.” Bill nods.

You sit up and grab Bill’s discarded pants, looking through the pockets until you find a little rag. With water from your canteen, you clean Bill up. You get the state of his thighs situated, then his chest, then yours, rinsing the rag in between. In the time it takes you to clean up, Bill has nodded off. You toss the rag away, favoring curling up with Bill over dealing with it properly.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #bill williamson #bill williamson x reader #bill williamson x male reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #fictober #kinktober

[bigbadripley]

hi could you do one where reader and steve are together and some kind of multiversal rift happens that causes captain carter to show up and reader starts to pine for peggy as well as steve, and steve obv still has a thing for the peggy he knew, and peggy still has a thing for the steve she knew, but also reader, so they do a threesome k thanks bye

Moments Stolen Taste Better

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader x Captain!Peggy Carter | 18+ Minors DNI!!  ⚠️

Warnings: Dom!Steve and Dom!Peggy, mention of stillbirth (idk it just gets brought up in the plot), reader has a mombod (we love it), voyeurism, thoughts of cheating, threesome, unprotected p in v

Words: 3.4K Words

Title based on "Used" by SZA ft. Don Toliver

A/N:  You are responsible for your own consumption. DL;DR. As always, if you find anything that needs to have a warning or I mislabeled something, please let me know~

"Babe? Have you seen my screw box?" You yelled through the house. After looking through the garage and not finding the Altoid tin where you kept your oddball screws, it was time to face that your boyfriend likely took it. "Babe!" You yelled out once more, not getting a response the first time. 

As you entered the kitchen, you saw him quickly chewing a bite of the sandwich he held, leaning against the countertop comfortably. You saved for a moment, waiting for him to swallow before he could respond.

"Should be in the n-" Steve cut himself off, "-Second room." He corrected. He knew you told him already that he could call it the nursery and that it wasn't some word that shouldn't be spoken. It was the second room until you got pregnant, then the nursery. Since the pregnancy failure, it's become a dusty baby furniture storage room.

It had been months, and you and Steve had time to heal from it, but he still tended to call the room by its former name. At first, it hurt, but now it doesn't, and Steve still corrects himself when he catches it. You began to wonder if he was doing it for your sake or his. 

You enter the small, pale yellow room and avoid looking directly at the bassinet, which makes your heart ache. Steve was correct: the screw box was on the changing station. As you pick it up, memories of decorating the room flood your mind, causing you to turn around and immediately exit, closing the door behind you. 

Gotta sort that out one day. You thought. Today is not that day. 

Before you go back through the garage door, you hear a crashing sound and smell something burning from the other side. Thinking it might have been a small battery explosion, you rush through the door to grab the fire extinguisher to the right. 

Beyond the smokiness, there was no fire or sparks but a figure on the ground. You weren't sure how they got there or who they were, but your first instinct was to put the extinguisher back and rush to see if they were okay. You were able to make out long dark hair, red lips, and-

It's a woman! You thought.

"Steve!" You yelled out in a panic, trying to get his help to pick up the unconscious woman. The blanket of fog began to disperse little by little, and you started to recognize her as-

"Peggy?" Steve said as soon as he spotted her. The girl he keeps in his compass. The one he left behind when he went in the ice. The only problem was that he never mentioned how tall and strong she looked.

Steve took one arm, and you attempted to grab the other before he picked her up entirely to bring her into the house. Given your size, you likely would not have been of much assistance anyway in lifting her.

Once Peggy was on the couch, you could get a better look at her. She was even more captivating than the photo you knew her from, and even more, interestingly, she wore a suit that was a near-replica of Steve's, the only exception being the Union Jack over the chest. 

"This isn't the same Peggy I knew," Steve piped up, crossing his arms. He seemed suspicious of her, but you felt the need to help regardless. You rushed to get a cold washcloth and placed it on her sleeping forehead, figuring the cooling would prompt her awake quicker after whatever tumble she took. 

Sure enough, after staying next to her for nearly ten minutes, Peggy began to wake. Her big brown eyes darted around the room before landing on you, filling with confusion. 

"Where am I?" She asked, sitting up and letting the rag fall from her head to the floor. Her accent floated through the air as her heavy boots clunked when she dropped them from the couch. You told her your name and explained that you found her in your garage, and she listened like it wasn't as strange to her as it was to you. "So, what Earth am I on?" She asked nonchalantly. You raised your eyebrows,

"Uh... I didn't realize they were classified in any way. I know someone I can ask who may know, but-"

"Strange is busy. I already spoke to him on the phone." Steven interrupted you as he walked back in from the garage. The second Peggy spotted him, she was awestruck, flicking her eyes up and down his form. 

"Oh, you're not my Steve." She said. You gathered that the Steve she knew was likely much smaller, and given her reaction, you couldn't help but feel a bit jealous, but couldn't tell if you were more jealous of her or Steve. You watched her gaze return to you, then to Steve, as the gears turned in her head until she connected the dots. "I suppose he'd be your Steve, yeah?"

"Well, yes, he is." You answered, trying not to say it awkwardly. You were not a stranger to being attracted to women, but since you and Steve got together, your eyes never strayed. 

Until you met Peggy Carter. 

"It was Stephen Strange that I needed to see." Peggy circled back to the previous topic. "But even if he could help me, my Travelmaster seems to be broken." 

You realized she was talking about the device on her wrist that looked like a smartwatch. The face of it was cracked and chipped, likely from whatever knocked her into your garage. "Can I see?" You asked, holding your hand out. 

Peggy nodded and took the device off, placing it into your hand. Your fingers grazed hers in a cheesy rom-com fashion, and you felt electricity for a moment, which could have been the Travelmaster. You examined it momentarily, realizing it would be a piece of cake to fix. "I can take care of this thing, but it may take a few days."

"That would be lovely!" Peggy exclaimed, more hopeful now that you could be of assistance. Her joy made your heart nearly collapse, and you sat the device on your knee to discretely wipe your clammy hands on your jeans. 

After a bit of back and forth about where Peggy came from, how she got here, and how in her timeline, she was the one who took the serum, thus becoming Captain Carter, you offered her a place to stay while you fixed her Travelmaster, and she accepted. 

The first day with your new guest was interesting, to say the least. You gave her some of your more loose-fitting clothes to wear to account for her larger build, and even then, they were still a bit tight on her. You weren't complaining as you silently enjoyed the view of Peggy in your sweatpants and Iron Maiden t-shirt that wasn't cropped on you but exposed a bit of midriff on her.

It's like if I let Jen wear my clothes, and then she hulked out. You thought upon seeing her in them. Only Jennifer was your best friend, and you weren't attracted to her like you were to Peggy. 

The biting jealousy came when she and Steve talked about the similarities in their times. They sipped coffee and laughed as you listened in, trying not to blatantly eavesdrop and being unable to help yourself. 

"The Travelmaster probably brought me here because I was thinking about how it must be fixed right before it shorted out," Peggy said. You stood and poked your head through the doorway, 

"Why would it take you here if that were the case?"

"Because you invented it in my time." She said, glancing at you as the cup made it to her perfect lips. God, how you envied that ceramic mug before what she said registered in your mind. You were an inventor, having been under the wing of Tony for some time, but you never invented anything as insane as a multiversal travel device. 

"I'm not surprised. My gal's a genius." Steve spoke up, mentioning you like you weren't there purposely and speaking to Peggy as if she were an old poker buddy. His eyes drifted over to where you were, and you passed him a wink that was more telling than anything you would have been able to say then. 

Oh yeah, he's getting his dick sucked later. You thought before your mind pictured it, but instead of you doing it, you pictured Peggy doing it. The visual caused the jealousy to linger again, and even worse, you had to adjust in your rolly chair at how aroused it made you. 

"Shit." You whispered, pinching the bridge of your nose at how absurd the thought was. It simply wouldn't work. 

Another day passed, and the atmosphere between you and Peggy was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You couldn't tell if it was just you or if Peggy felt the same and decided to hide it out of respect. On the flip side, you knew Steve was also delighted to have her around. 

The night before, Steve had you bent over the footboard of your bed, and your thoughts began to linger again. You loved your man, and he never failed to get you off, but when the image of looking back and seeing Peggy railing you with a strap-on popped into your head, you came harder and faster than you had in a long time.

It was challenging to look at her after that shameful thought. You could tell she noticed your awkwardness, and this frightened you. 

I got the hots for the woman sleeping on my fucking couch. What a nightmare. 

When you saw Peggy in the hallway on your way out of the bathroom, you tried to pass her by without yielding until she spoke to you first. 

"What's that room used for?" She asked, pointing to the room you avoided. 

"Uh, that was the nursery." You admitted, rocking back and forth on your heels. 

"Nursery? I-" She stopped herself, realizing the lack of children and the look on your face.

Probably noticed the extra baby weight and nothing to show for it, too. You thought before she picked her sentence up again. 

 "Oh, dear lord, I'm so sorry. How far along were you, if you don't mind?"

"Seven months. It's fine, really. Some things happen for a reason, you know?" You replied, trying to brush it off. Peggy pursed her lips and cocked her head,

"I guess that's also a good way to look at my being here."

"Look, I know this must be really strange, seeing Steve and..." You trail off, not sure where you're going with this, yourself. You just wanted to open a dialogue and hopefully make yourself feel less nuts. Peggy let out a small laugh,

"Believe me, it has been bizarre, but it's not what you think. If my Steve came out of the war to find someone like you, he's one lucky son of a gun." 

You stood paralyzed as the words floated through the air. Peggy looked down at you the way she usually did, causing your heart to thump as adrenaline washed over you. She was incredible, and her words only amplified your desire for her. 

"Fucking hell." You gasp as you finally catch your breath. The words fell out clumsily, and Peggy eyed you with confusion. 

"You alright?"

"Yeah, just losing my mind at how perfect you are." You admit, then immediately regret the words as her eyes widen at you. "Shit, I'm sorry." 

"You know, I've been quite irresponsible since my arrival. I neglected to tell you," Peggy started, stepping forward slowly. Her movements felt like a magnetic repulsion, causing you to back up as she approached until your shoulders and butt met the cold wall behind you. "I've watched you get involved with people who have no idea how to treat you, time and time again."

Your breath hitched as your back hugged the wall tighter, stuck between it and the buff woman pressed to your chest. "Fucking hell." You repeated the same way you said before, convinced you would die if she were any closer. The right corner of her mouth curled up at your breathlessness, toying with you. 

"Though I'm happy that you found Steve in this life," She leaned her face closer to yours, almost close enough to brush noses. "I still can't forget the sounds you make."

A small, pathetic whimper escapes your throat, betraying you as you feel yourself receding into the drywall. 

"Sounds like that, actually." She whispered. Her dark hair covered your peripheral vision, making her brown eyes the only thing you could focus on. You were in agony, realizing she was telling you that, in her time, she fucked you. Your mind raced through how it went, what she tasted like, how her tongue felt on your pussy. 

You felt hot and flustered. Having been with Steve for so long, you forgot what being pursued by someone new was like. There were so many things you wanted to say and do, but you felt like you were glued where you stood and couldn't find enough oxygen to speak appropriately. It felt like Peggy wanted to break you. 

As if the universe was trying to tell you to get out of that hold Peggy had you in, you heard the front door open, and footsteps proceeded through it. "How does macaroni casserole sound for dinner?" Steve called out as he entered. 

"Fucking hell." You groaned quietly with frustration from being cut off. Peggy loosed the distance between you for you to slip out and get to Steve. As soon as you turned the corner to the kitchen, where he was putting away the groceries, guilt washed over you. The thought of cheating on him was devastating, yet you had been doing it in your head for days now. "Mac casserole? Sounds good, baby." You finally answered his question as you came up and wrapped your arms around him from behind. 

You assisted with putting the food away and scampered off to the shower, hoping to rinse out the feeling of Peggy being pushed against you. All that was accomplished was more racing thoughts in the steam that caused you to turn on the high-pressure stream setting on the shower head and let the water rush against your clit, imagining it was her mouth. 

I still can't forget the sounds you make.

Her voice had a vice grip on your brain, repeatedly replaying like a Jedi mind trick. Your muscles jerked as the water drew an intense orgasm from you that nearly knocked you to the shower floor. A single high-pitched sigh punched from your gut as you heard the bathroom door open. 

"Did you trip?" Steve asked, responding to the thumping of your hands and feet and the sound you made. In a panic, you found it hard to lie on the spot. 

"No, I... uh..." You choked, slowly bringing the showerhead back up to the metal arm that held it over your head. Beyond the frosted glass that separated the rest of the bathroom from the tub, you could make out Steve's shape and the color of his hair, skin, and shirt, but no details. You did, however, hear a faint chuckle. 

"Playing with yourself in the shower is dangerous, baby. Why don't you come out, and I'll take care of you." He said, blurry form growing closer to the glass. It drives you insane when he talks like that. 

Yet, you imagined Peggy saying it to you also, English accent, nearly knocking you off balance again. You felt like an addict, looking for a fix for something you've never had before. 

You could see him more detailed beyond the glass now, but you could make out something else just behind him now. Another tall and wide stature, long, dark hair. Before you could respond, Steve pulled the door open to reveal himself and Peggy, who leaned against the bathroom wall and admired your drenched nakedness. You didn't bother hiding from either of them as the woman parted her lips to speak.

"Dry off and meet us in the bedroom. The three of us need to have a chat." 

Once sufficiently dried off, you exited the bathroom with the towel wrapped around you, tucked under your arms like a terry cloth dress. You felt indescribably anxious and fearful of what they might have discussed to cause this meeting.

Steve and Peggy stood with their arms crossed on either side of you, staring with amused faces. 

"Drop the towel and have a seat on the bed, baby," Steve said, gesturing to the mattress the two of you shared. Your eyes widened, and you immediately turned your attention to Peggy, then back to your boyfriend. 

"Steve, I-"

"Do as he says." Peggy interrupts in a much more commanding tone. Were you terrified? Yes. But her stern tone nearly caused your knees to buckle simultaneously. You allowed the towel to fall to your feet as you slowly and shakily took the few steps to the bed before pivoting and meeting your butt to the comforter. 

They eyed you up and down as they circled you like a couple of vultures. You had become a spectacle. 

"She's gorgeous, ain't she?" Steve asked Peggy, who nodded. 

"Quite. Her thighs and bum are a bit thicker than the one from my Earth, but I find it fetching." She replied, not pulling her gaze from you for even a second. Steve chortled at this,

"I tried to tell ya, my baby girl's special." 

"What exactly's going on here?" You finally speak weakly, your voice cracking as thick saliva pools in your throat. You gulp before Steve responds. 

"Peggy told me everything. How she slept with you in her time, the moment you had in the hallway earlier-"

"And we've decided that we would both have our way with you." Peggy finished his sentence perfectly. Your jaw dropped at the proposition, and you began to question if you really did fall in the shower and this was all some concussion dream. Either way, the ache and gathering wetness between your thighs felt real enough. "Lay back," Peggy said in the same commanding tone as before, prompting you to follow suit. 

As Steve lazed around to the other side of the bed, Peggy pulled your legs apart at your knees to get an eyeful of your dripping heat. "Such a pretty pussy." She complimented, nearly making you blush all over. It felt like you might pass out under them until Peggy inserted her thick middle finger into your entrance. Steve stood and watched with delight, palming himself over his jeans. 

"Tell her how tight she is. She loves that." He instructed, giving away your secrets. Her finger dipped in and out, grazing your soft spot with each curl of her knuckle, making you whine. 

"Very tight, darling. Mind if I have a taste?" Peggy asked, directing the question to Steve. He gestured to you with his free hand and nodded,

"Have at it. That pussy is sweet like honey."

You watched from downturned eyes as Peggy dropped to her knees and began lapping your clit right away, swirling her tongue over it like hard candy and humming with pleasure as involuntary noises left your lips. Your eyes began to roll upward and look at Steve, stroking his cock with one hand and caressing your head with the other. 

"You like how Peggy eats your pussy, baby girl?" He asked. "Tell me how it feels."

"Feel's good." You said breathlessly as her finger continued to pump into you while her mouth manipulated you closer to your climax. The view of Steve pleasuring himself while watching and talking to you was enough to push you over the edge. 

"Cum all over her fingers, baby. Go ahead." He growled, having you nearly trained to release at his will. Your ads tightened, and you arched your back off the mattress as satisfaction ripped through your veins. Peggy continued to fuck you with her fingers, prolonging your orgasm for as long as she could, causing you to cry out. 

"Tell Captain Rogers thank you for letting me lick your pussy." Peggy demanded as she got to her feet. 

"T-thank you, Steve." You stuttered, watching Peggy come to the side of the bed that he was on. 

"I'd say she's ready for you," Peggy informed Steve with a nod before he circled to the side of the bed you hung from. She started removing the too-tight track pants she borrowed from you and climbing onto the bed, one knee after another. You found yourself excited over the prospect of her sitting on your face, aroused again without much time to rest. 

"You treat Captain Carter real nice, now." Steve sang as you felt the tip of his cock rub through your folds. Another whimper pushed through your throat as it came into contact with your sensitive nub, and Peggy smiled beautifully at you. 

"Love that sound. I wanna hear that as he fucks you, understood?" She said, turning around to give you the best view of your Scream t-shirt that showed a peek of her tummy and contoured her breasts. Before you could voice a reply, your mouth was covered by her moist cunt, prompting you to open your mouth and start exploring. "You were right, Cap. She is a good girl." Peggy said with a shaky voice as you began to trace the alphabet over her bundle with your tongue. 

Another weak gasp escaped as Steve's cock pushed into you, fully bottoming out as always and making you crumble with slow, rhythmic thrusts to start. 

"So tight, baby." Steve groaned, picking up the pace and placing his palm over your stomach. The added pressure and his rutting against your g-spot caused a long moan, nearly making you lose your pattern on Peggy's clit. She stared down at you as she gyrated her hips and rode your face. 

"Don't sto-op." Her accent rang through the air, causing you to flick your tongue faster. You have no intention of stopping, eager for her to cum in your mouth. Just the thought of it caused another climax to build inside of you. It was just as you pictured it. 

Steve continued to fuck you harder, fingertips digging into the plush of your hips and thighs, feeling you grow closer to release. "Fuck, baby, I wanna feel you cum on my cock. Cum for me." 

Just like before, he spoke your orgasm forward. Your pussy quivered and gripped his cock as you moaned into Peggy's cunt, still vigorously testing the swollen nub to completion. The vibration of the sound you made as you came did it, and she followed with her own almost instantly, juices dripping onto your lips and chin while her muscular thighs closed over your ears.

Your pulsating pussy pushed Steve closer. "Gonna cum deep inside you, baby. Fuck, you feel so good." He rambled as Peggy removed herself from your face to hear your breathy moans. Steve gave one final, hard shove before his warmth filled you up, watching as Peggy wiped her wetness away from your chin with her thumb. 

Steve joined the two of you in the bed, laying sideways with legs dangling off the side, breathing heavily. "Did that make you happy?" He asked, caressing your thigh. You smiled and nodded in return at him and Peggy. It was exactly what you wanted for days. 

"Then, by all means, take your time fixing my Travelmaster." Peggy spoke up before bringing her perfectly soft lips to yours in a dreamy kiss. She didn't have to tell you twice. 

#steve rogers #captain america #peggy carter #captain carter #peggy carter fanfic #peggy carter one shot #peggy carter oneshot #agent carter #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fic #peggy carter fanfiction #steve rogers one shot #steggy #bisexual characters #x reader #steve rogers x reader #peggy carter x reader #reader insert #smut #marvel one shot #marvel smut #marvel mcu #marvel fanfic #marvel #mcu fic #mcu fanfiction #mcu

[beewolfwrites]

Permission - Part 2

Request: 

Omg PLEASE do a sequel to your latest fic 

I'm not the anon but a second part to the last request would be nice:)

As requested, here’s a part two! It turned out longer than expected, but I hope you like it! (Also sorry for any typos/errors/clunky sentences, I haven’t had time to proof read it)

________________________________________________________

Ever since you followed Kuina and Chishiya to the Beach, your life had changed drastically. There was no longer a need to hunt for food, no wondering whether you would be attacked in your sleep, no concerns about finding enough bottled water for a shower. Although the Beach was far from the utopia it was made out to be, the perks often outweighed the negatives. Plus, you had two new friends now… sort of. 

Kuina was her bright, bubbly self, helping you find your way around the hotel and introducing you to Ann, Tatta and several friendly faces. However, Chishiya was a little different. He barely paid any notice to you, and when he did, he had the uncanny ability of insulting you with just one cold glance. 

You avoided working with him directly during games - a difficult feat because for some unfortunate reason, the executives had decided to throw you into the same group over and over again. You even went out of your way to avoid walking past his room in case you bumped into him. That was, until one unfortunate incident in the kitchens. 

At such a late hour, everyone was either outside at the pool party, skulking around the bar, or hidden within their rooms. And you would have been too, if not for the hunger gnawing at your insides. Your game earlier had been brutal, and after seeing so much blood in one sitting, you weren’t exactly hungry. It was only later into the evening that your stomach finally started to protest. 

Sneaking out of your room, you crept down into the hotel kitchens, hunting for a snack. The kitchens were lined with shelves upon shelves of dry foods, tinned goods, instant ramen, bottled drinks and so much more. The thought of anything heavy was enough to knock you sick, and instead you gravitated towards a pack of cookies, munching on them without really looking at the label. Only to realise that it was a fatal mistake when your tongue burned hotter than one thousand suns. 

‘My god’, you coughed, spitting the cookie into a spare napkin that you’d picked up from the counter. ‘What the hell are these?’ 

You flipped the packet around. 

Wasabi cookies?! You scanned the front just to make sure you hadn’t misread it. What kind of psychopath makes wasabi cookies?

‘These are better.’ 

Jumping out of your skin, you turned. Chishiya was lurking against the wall, a yellow sachet of cookies in hand. How long had he been here? You hadn’t heard him enter. Unless he had been here this whole time. 

‘I’m fine with these ones.’ You clutched the packet tighter to your chest. 

‘Suit yourself,’ he said. ‘Though your face suggested otherwise.’ 

It was tempting to eat another cookie just out of spite, but there was a chance you would end up eating your own words instead, and that wouldn’t do. 

‘I don’t need your advice on cookies,’ you stated, staring him down, even if it didn’t have much effect. 

He tilted his head, studying you. ‘You’re bitter about something.’ 

‘No, I’m not.’ 

‘Then what?’ He paused, eyes lighting up a fraction. ‘Ahh, I see. You’re upset that I haven’t spoken to you much.’ 

‘That’s not true.’

All it took was one raised brow, and you both knew that there was no point in lying. 

‘Okay,’ you gave in. ‘But it’s not about that, it’s…’ Why was it so hard to articulate your thoughts in his presence? The words seemed to evaporate before you could speak them. ‘I just don’t understand why you were the one who brought me here, but now you won’t even speak to me.’ 

Seeing you getting riled up must have been hilarious to him, as a smile crept over his face. ‘I didn’t realise I was under some obligation to speak to you.’ 

‘You’re not.’ 

Wait… wait just a minute. 

God, how was he doing this? You’d backed yourself into a corner, and now he had you right where he wanted you. 

‘So you don’t want me to talk to you?’ he asked. ‘Harsh, but I understand.’ 

That wasn’t what you wanted. That wasn’t what you wanted at all. You began to interject, however Chishiya wasn’t listening. He sauntered out of the kitchen, ignoring you entirely. 

As you discovered over the next few days, Chishiya had taken ignoring you to a whole new level. He wouldn’t even look you in the eyes, and whenever he approached you and Kuina, he blatantly ignored everything you said, looking at and only speaking to Kuina. 

This man was cold, awful, and oh-so-clever. It shouldn’t have bothered you that he was childish, because yes, if you were honest, his behaviour was like that of a ten year old. 

But it did bother you. It bothered you greatly. 

You weren’t sure why, and it didn’t make any sense - none of these feelings did. But you were left with an overwhelming sadness, and an awareness that your presence was very much unwanted. Especially as you had another game lined up, and of course, Chishiya had been assigned to the same car as you. As always. 

And because Lady Luck was a cruel mistress, the small car had you squished up next to Chishiya, forced to withstand one another’s company. He was still so stubborn, refusing to acknowledge you even when you asked him to shift over so that you could fasten your seatbelt. 

In the game itself, he was worse. It was only a measly Three of Clubs situated in a veterinary clinic, but he had found a way to make your presence null and void. The game itself took place across several examination rooms where players were split into pairs, having to complete tasks to find the key to the door before the timer ran out. Once it did, the door would be locked forever and the room would fill with poisonous gas. And yes, predictably, you were forced to work with him. 

He didn’t seem to need you, matching up the x-rays of an otter’s anatomy with ease and unscrambling a code to reveal clues. It was only when the final clue led to the discovery of a dead rabbit that you cracked.

‘Please, won’t you let me help?’ You watched as he picked up a scalpel. You had just three minutes on the clock, and no response from him. ‘I can do anything you ask. Whatever you need, I can help—’

‘No.’ 

Even though he was apathetic, uncaring, and totally disinterested in your presence… 

‘You actually spoke to me.’ 

‘Don’t distract me,’ he said, coldly. 

His hands were bloody as he sliced into the rabbit, reaching into its stomach with his fingers. 

There’s just one minute and thirty seconds left… 

‘Chishiya?’ 

He pulled out the key, dripping blood over the floor as he walked to the door and slid it into the lock. The lock clicked, and he wrenched the door open. When you hesitated to leave, Chishiya held the door open with his foot, frowning. 

‘Are you coming or not?’ 

That same question. 

You hurried to the door just as creak of a gas valve opening sounded from the vents on the ceiling. Shutting the door firmly behind you, you both wandered out into the waiting room where the rest of your group had agreed to meet. 

Their door was still closed, and a slight nervousness welled up inside you. ‘Do you think they made it?’

‘Who knows?’ 

You sat down on one of the comfy chairs, relieved that you had survived again. It’s true that you hadn’t done much, but that was only because your partner shrugged off any attempts you made to help. 

‘Are you happy now?’ Chishiya asked suddenly, catching you off-guard. Your eye cracked open, wondering what he meant as he stared at the other group’s door. 

‘Happy about what?’ 

Your question was drowned out as the door opened to reveal the other members of your group. And with that, the conversation had closed. 

You didn’t pester him any more as you walked back to the car, and this time, you made sure to sit in a seat far from his. It’s not as if you could force someone to spend time with you, or even like you for that matter. And besides, there were others at the Beach you could socialise with. 

But still. 

If only you knew what you had done wrong, whether you’d offended him somehow. Once the car pulled into the hotel, you waited until the others had left before you spoke to him again. 

‘Hey, Chishiya?’ He looked up, bored. ‘Don’t worry about being in games with me anymore. I’ll speak to Mira.’ 

You didn’t stick around to hear if he replied, and hurried inside, avoiding the ongoing party out in the courtyard. Heading straight upstairs to the executive’s quarters, you knocked on the door to room five. 

Nothing. 

You knocked again, louder this time. 

‘Were you looking for me?’ 

Mira appeared at the top of the stairs, her black skirt sashaying around her pale ankles. Her gaze was warm, but laced with a razor sharp edge. 

‘Apparently you’re the one who decides on the games rota?’ 

‘Hmm.’ She leaned against the wall. ‘I am. Was there a problem in your group tonight?’ 

‘No,’ you began, trying to avoid spilling too much information. ‘Well, yes… kind of. It’s complicated.’ 

A whisper of a smile crossed her lips. ‘One teammate in particular?’ 

This woman, is she a mind-reader? 

Mira, despite her calm, feminine appearance, had a strange ability to read people as though she knew their darkest secrets. It was no wonder she was a Hearts specialist. 

‘I don’t want to be partnered with Chishiya,’ you said. ‘We always end up in the same group, but he hates me. It makes it harder to finish the games.’ 

Mira looked faintly surprised and faintly amused all at once. ‘I see. Well, that is curious.’ 

‘Curious?’ 

She took a step forward, her dark eyes glinting. ‘That Chishiya is definitely a strange one. Even I have a hard time reading him,’ she said. ‘But he asked me himself if he could be grouped with you permanently.’ 

What now? 

Your stomach dropped. This was insane. It was bizarre. And it just didn’t add up whatsoever. ‘That can’t be right. He won't even speak to me.’ 

Mira hummed, thinking carefully. ‘You poor thing. How cruel of him.’ 

‘Do you think it’s possible to be put in a different group?’ 

‘Before I do anything,’ Mira said, ‘I think you both need to have a talk. Why don’t you go and find him? He’s usually in his room.’ 

You tried to interject, but Mira waved lightly and disappeared into her room, leaving you standing aimlessly in the hall. Yes, you could go and talk to him. But that would mean going to his room and actually confronting him about this. Mira turned out to be useless in helping you, and you genuinely didn’t know what to do. 

I guess I’m really going to have to do this… 

His room was only several doors away from Mira’s, as being an executive, he had landed himself with the luxury suites. You trudged over, lingering outside and trying to muster the courage to actually knock. 

I can do this! 

Your fist was raised above the door, ready to pounce, when a voice sounded from inside. 

‘Come in.’ 

Your heart thumped in your chest. 

No going back now. 

You entered, immediately locking eyes with him. He was sitting on the bed, as if he had been expecting you this entire time. Had he known that you were out there? If so, how? 

‘Erm… sorry for barging in.’ The silence was too awkward. ‘I’ve just spoken with Mira.’ 

‘And?’ 

Why was this so difficult? Why did he have to be so difficult?

‘She said I should speak to you first before she changes anything,’ you mumbled. ‘She also told me that you wanted to be grouped with me.’ 

Chishiya didn’t look shocked or shaken. Actually, he didn’t seem to care at all. ‘That was Kuina’s idea.’ 

Oh…

‘It was, at first,’ he added. ‘Kuina asked me to join your first game with the Beach. It was my suggestion to be grouped with you permanently.’ 

Wait, so he did want it?

This man, it was like he was enjoying having you on tenterhooks. ‘I don’t understand why. You hate me.’ 

He made a huff of amusement. ‘It’s not fun, is it? Being ignored by someone.’ 

Your jaw dropped. 

Seriously? 

He did this to be petty, to make your life a misery? But his tone of voice, it was as if you had done something horribly wrong and he was punishing you in the cruellest way imaginable. What could you have done wrong? 

Chishiya leaned forward, his expression betraying just how much he enjoyed your discomfort. ‘Did you think I hadn’t noticed? You purposely wouldn’t speak to me during the games. This is probably the first time you’ve ever come near my room. You avoided me in public. And then you told me off for suggesting some cookies.’ 

The penny dropped, and the realisation came crashing down around you. He had noticed all along, the fact that you’d been avoiding him. And this was a retaliation, of sorts. 

‘I admit, I like my own company,’ he said, slyly. ‘But that was a little too much, don’t you think?’

You couldn’t find the right words. ‘I didn’t… I only did that because I thought you were avoiding me.’ 

‘Maybe I was... initially.’ 

You felt both furious and stupid at the same time; your anger at him simmering just beneath your cool exterior, and your anger at yourself for not realising sooner that he was just playing with you. Was there even a solution to this? Maybe, like Mira suggested, it was worth talking through and agreeing on. 

‘I’m glad you don’t hate me,’ you said, trying to be the bigger person here. ‘But next time we’re in a game, don’t just take over everything. I don’t want to put my life in someone else’s hands.’ 

Especially not someone as dangerous as you.  

He weighed up your words, nodding slowly. ‘Fine. Just don’t get in my way.’ 

As annoyed as you were, you couldn’t hold back a smile. ‘I won’t,’ you said. ‘So long as you don’t get in mine.’ 

‘And you need to stop moving around in the car,’ he added. ‘It’s annoying.’ 

‘Stop sitting on the seatbelts then.’ 

His eyes lit up, just like they usually did, except something was a little different. The coldness had melted away, and for the first time ever, you actually began to see a different side to the man whose icy presence had caused you so much pain. 

#alice in borderland #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu #aib #chishiya #Chishiya x reader

[hometoursandotherstuff]

1965 Traditional home in Ladue, Missouri has 6bds, 10.5ba, plus some very unique and unusual decor. $4M + $146mo. HOA fee

This is the entrance hall and it looks a bit empty. I think that it could look more dramatic.

Stepdown sunken living room has large swirling columns on the fireplace wall.

I would like the silver ceiling better if they'd used something other than reproduction Victorian tin ceiling tiles. Note that there is a double dining room table, so there's plenty of room in here.

That was the formal dining room, this is the informal one.

The black & white kitchen looks a bit cold.

In addition to the 2 dining rooms, there's also this everyday dining room.

This dining room opens to the family room.

The principal bedroom is open to other rooms, plus a roof top deck.

It's open to this sitting room/home office/kitchenette. Those lights are unusual.

The en-suite bath has a glass enclosure around the tub to keep in the moisture from the shower. I've never seen anything like this. I would rather have a separate shower.

Look at the large closet.

There's also an office.

This is sort of a connecting room, but it's still a sitting room with a little kitchenette.

And, that room leads into this one, which also has a desk. How many sitting rooms does one house need?

Well, it clearly needs more, b/c here's another one.

And, those rooms lead into this one that has a floor actually made of geodes.

And, guess what is also in this sitting room? Another dining room.

Looks like a music room.

The wine cellar. I wonder if those sarcophagi are built-ins.

There's a large game room.

Here's another full-size kitchen.

And, it opens to the pool.

The pool is completely enclosed.

Behind the fountain is a large 2 story guest house.

It's quite an impressive home in itself.

I've never seen a home gym with a double door refridgerator.

But, before we leave, let's visit the last dining room.

The sprawling estate is on 3 acres of land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/9801-Log-Cabin-Ct-Saint-Louis-MO-63124/2773976_zpid/

#traditional style estate #houses #house tours #home tour

[clonemando]

Haunted Clone Week

Written for the Day 1 prompt: Dark between the Stars

@clonefandomevents

AO3 version here

Ponds is left abandoned in space after he is shot but that doesn't mean he's dead.

Ponds wasn’t dead. He should have been seeing as he had been shot in his head and then spaced. But somehow he wasn’t dead. The pain had been intense but then the cold had numbed it until it faded away. The burning of lungs without oxygen had done the same. He knew, logically, that without a pressurized suit he should have imploded or something but instead he just… drifted. Between specs of light he knew were lightyears away. He only felt cold and numb and… empty. 

He had so much he had wanted to do still. He had a letter in his bunk that was unaddressed that still needed to be left on a certain other Commander’s desk. He had a little blue and white stuffed tooka doll that had carefully sewn jaig eyes on its forehead he had wanted to give to Rex. He had a tin of specialty caff he had forgotten to tell his General about that was supposedly both tasty and good for helping headaches. So much was left behind and all he could do was think about how now he’ll never get the chance. 

It could have been minutes or days or years as Ponds drifted through space with his path fueled only by the momentum caused by being forcefully ejected from the ship and the gravitational pull of the nearest stars. He wondered if this was what death was. Was it your consciousness existing in your body even when all life in it was gone? Would he be trapped like this for the millions of years it took for his body to eventually get dragged into a star until he burnt away? Would he keep existing even then? Were stars filled with the souls of all they had devoured all watching without any way to cry out or be seen? 

Another lifetime or just a few more minutes passed. The darkness around him seemed to cradle him like he was in some sort of dark water. It reminded him of being in a bacta tank and then it dug deeper and brought back memories he didn’t know he had of being in a tube floating in a warm thick fluid. It made him think of the first time he swam in one of the many irrigation channels on Kamino that caught rain water and funneled it into basins where the water could be purified into something drinkable for humanoid species. He had always loved the water. Cody had suggested they call him fish or frog but it had been Fox that came up with the name he kept. Ponds. It had been a joke. Something about how he was always calm when the rest of them weren’t and his love of water and something about mud had been brought up but he had liked it. He wanted to be a place his brothers felt at peace and safe. He liked the idea of being a little messy but full of life and surprises. Not as mucky as a swamp, not as grand as a lake. Just a little pond. 

He missed his family. He missed Wolffe’s gruff love and Cody’s warm hugs and Fox’s sharp wit. He missed Bly running his fingers through his hair when he would rest his head on his brother’s thigh while Bly was working on a training module. How long has it been? Did they remember him? Did they cry over him dying? Bly definitely would have cried. Wolffe likely would have needed to punch something until all the feelings went away. Bly didn’t know how Cody would have reacted to the news. At this point so many of them had died, was Cody already numb to losing their brothers? Fox probably was. He had already told them how hard it was on triple zero and how fast they went through troops because the senators wanted them decommissioned any time they messed up. They all supported him the best they could but it was hard being so far away. 

The darkness was growing. Ponds had been staring at the same little speck of light now for ages and it was getting dimmer. There was nothing else to do by this point. He had given up on trying to figure out why he was aware and he had gotten bored of hypotheticals on how his brothers were reacting to things. He had been trying to figure out where he was based on what he could see and what he had known about where they had been headed. He was pretty sure the light he was looking at was near Coruscant or in that same direction… maybe. It was hard to tell. He really was just in empty space. No planets close enough to make out. No stars close enough to be more than a distant dot. He started doing calculations on how long it would take for light from Coruscant to reach where he thought he might be on a galactic map and then subtracting that from the timeline he knew from galactic history to try to figure out when the light he was seeing might have been from. 

Cody had always said he was a nerd. He liked math and equations and filling out data forms. He liked puzzles that could be solved and hard facts that added up nicely. He was proud of his scores in astrophysics. If his numbers were right then he was looking at Coruscant back before the cities were even first built. It would still have oceans at this point. If he could zoom in his eyes to see it in detail instead of just a white flickering dot, he might even be able to see land there. He remembered learning that the Taung had lived there first… those who would create the Mandalorians… would they still have been the primary species? It might have been from even before them. 

A ship suddenly stopped near Ponds from hyperspace and he felt a tractor beam start tugging his body toward a cargo hatch. His mind had stopped processing things ages ago so he couldn’t remember if he knew this ship or not. It felt familiar.

“I have retrieved the body. The boy didn’t lie about the coordinates. It’s covered in… some sort of inky stuff but I’ll clean it before we arrive back at the temple so it can receive a proper funeral.” A familiar voice said as Ponds’ body was dumped on the floor of the hold. Ponds felt the pain returning and groaned, his body starting to spasm causing the being that dragged him from space to jump back in fear. 

Ponds slowly came back to his mind. He was wrapped in cold but it was comfortable. He slowly moved his fingers and relaxed as they moved as he willed them despite now being the same empty black color as the space he had been left in. 

“You’re supposed to be dead! How are you alive?!” A voice filled with terror said and he looked at them with eyes filled with starlight as their blaster shook from where it was pointed at him. 

“I am dead.” He muttered and ignored it as the being shot him twice when he finally stepped forward. He took the blaster and snapped it in half with his hands like it was nothing but a twig. 

He didn’t know what he was now but it wasn’t living and that meant he couldn’t die. Which was good because he had things to do. 

“I already got shot, I’d like to not be shot anymore. Can you take me to my General Mace Windu?” He asked and grinned when the spacer nodded and ran for the cockpit.

#star wars #Haunted Clone Week #the clone wars #Commander Ponds #Cosmic horror #clone troopers #fanfic #tcw #eldrich horror #transformation #one shot #my writing #clonefandomevents

[qqueenofhades]

hello! you asked for winter prompts? ❄️🌨

- first snow

- baby, it's cold outside

- holidays in the city

- hot chocolate

and i have a hankering for some Fivan but anything you want to write is lovely! 💙

The wind off the water stings like a whip, and the stormclouds roiling in the northern sky are laden with the promise of snow, the first of the season -- which in Weddle comes much later than it did back in Os Alta, where winter often lasted five or six months of the year. Fedyor isn't entirely used to the gentler, warmer, mistier climate of Novyi Zem, or Novyi Zem in general, but he can't say that he objects. In fact, it's nice not to freeze his arse off in a tent, or a battlefield, or wherever he was spending the latest campaign. Of course, Ivan is worried that it might turn them soft, but that's just Ivan for you. It's three months since they arrived in Weddle and got a small apartment in its city districts, settling awkwardly into their new life, but he still stays on his toes, tense and watchful, just waiting for something to go wrong. Even here, on the far side of the True Sea, far from Ravka, his face could be infamous, and if Queen Alina is inclined to pursue the vendetta that drove them into exile in the first place....

Fedyor sighs, shakes his head, and continues on his way. By the time he reaches the market square, the first flakes are swirling down, and he pulls up his hood -- it's still strange not to be wearing a kefta -- and greets the merchants politely. Neither he nor Ivan speak Zemeni particularly well, but Fedyor is a quick study and Ivan is extremely stubborn, so between the two of them, they've picked up enough to get by. There are enough immigrants around here that they can get by in a rough polyglot of Ravkan and Kerch, but it's better not to draw attention to themselves. You know. Just in case.

Fedyor finishes his shopping and heads home through the narrow streets, windows lit with candles and pine wreaths hung on doors, kids laughing and looking at the sky in eager expectation of snowballs with which to wreak generalized havoc. He likes the energy of it, the ordinary vivacity of living among regular people and not shut away behind the cloistered walls of the Little Palace, and he stops to savor it for a long moment. Then he ducks into a narrow stone doorway, fumbles with his mittened hand for the key, and opens it, ascending a creaky staircase to the second floor. Pushes the door open and calls, "Vanya, I'm home."

His husband glances up briefly, his scars looking particularly pronounced in the grey light, and silently satisfies himself that Fedyor is in one piece. Then he says, as usual, "Any trouble?"

"No." Fedyor knows why he asks, but he does feel that if there was, he could handle it, lingering parem hangover or otherwise. He carries the shopping into the crammed galley kitchen and begins to unload it, as Ivan pads in, leans against the doorway, and watches him like a lone wolf. Over his shoulder, Fedyor adds, "We could even go out and do something, you know. Something fun."

Ivan snorts. Ravka or Novyi Zem, it doesn't matter; Ivan and fun simply do not go in the same sentence. "Or not."

Fedyor raises an eyebrow, but decides not to press. Instead he fills the kettle with milk to warm it, melts some chocolate in the tarnished tin pan, and stirs it into two cups, handing one to Ivan. "Fine, then. Suit yourself."

They sip the hot chocolate for several moments, neither of them speaking, falling into that long-married silence where they don't need words to communicate. Then Ivan says at last, "I wish we could, Fedya. I just -- I don't think -- I'm not in the mood."

Fedyor could remark that when it comes to doing anything frivolous, Ivan rarely is, but he knows the feeling. Part of his eagerness to go out and socialize and make the best of it, in the way he habitually does as much as Ivan glowers in solitude, is to cover up that bone-deep pain, the sundering and the loss, the knowledge that it might be a very long time -- if ever -- until they go home again. He's grateful for the new life they're building in Weddle, even though it's decidedly out of the pulverized ashes of their old one, but that can't whisk away the ache. Then Fedyor finishes the hot chocolate and sets aside the cup, puts his arms around Ivan's neck, and snuggles close. "In that case," he orders, "keep me warm some other way. It's cold out."

Ivan smiles, just a bit, the way he does with Fedyor and no one else. He brushes a kiss over Fedyor's temple, slips his arm around him, and holds him close, and they stand there in the kitchen, listening to the shared echo of their heartbeat -- always, no matter where they are in the wide world, the one thing that feels like home. Then he shifts his position and lifts Fedyor up onto the counter, moving close to kiss him and let everything else fall away. "As you wish."

#anonymous #ask #fivan #fivan ff #heartrender husbands #sab ff #winter prompts

[rabbitcruiser]

National Poutine Day

In Canada, particularly in Quebec, poutine is a staple food, if not  also an iconic one. It has become a popular food in America as well as  in other countries, and we celebrate it today, on National Poutine Day.  Standard poutine is made up of fresh-cut french fries, squeaky fresh  cheese curds, and brown gravy, but there are many variations of the  dish. Among other possibilities, the name may have come from the word  "pudding," which is spelled pouding in French, or from poutine,  which is slang for "mess" in Quebec. It is pronounced "pou-tin" in the  French-dominated regions of Quebec and New Brunswick, but as "poo-teen"  elsewhere.

According to the most widely known and accepted story, poutine was  first served at L’Idéal (Café Ideal)—a restaurant that later changed its  name to Le Lutin Qui Rit (The Laughing Elf)—in 1957, in the small town  of Warwick, in Arthabaska County, Quebec, a town known for producing  squeaky cheese curds. A usual customer, Eddy Lainsesse, requested curds  on top of his fries. The restaurant owner, Fernand Lachance, supposedly  replied, "Ça va faire une maudite poutine," which roughly translates to  "That's going to make a dreadful mess." A variation of the story says  that Lainsesse asked for the curds and fries to be thrown together in a  paper bag, upon which Lachance looked into the bag and said, "This is  poutine." The dish started being sold in a bag and soon caught on.  Patrons began adding ketchup and vinegar to it. In 1963, Lachance began  serving it on plates. Customers soon noticed that the fries got cold  quickly, so Lachance added gravy to keep them warm.

According to another story, poutine was created by Jean-Paul Roy,  owner of Le Roy Jucep, a drive-in restaurant in Drummondville, Quebec.  He had been serving a dish of gravy and french fries called patate-sauce  since 1958, and in 1964 noticed that some of his diners were adding  cheese curds to it. He soon added a dish that contained all three  ingredients and named it fromage-patate-sauce.

No matter how poutine got its start, it soon could be found being  sold as street food in Canada. By 1969 it was being sold in Quebec City  at the Ashton Snack Bar food truck on Boulevard Wilfred-Hamel, and it  was being sold in Montreal by 1983. By the early 1980s, it had become a  widely popular street food in Ontario and Quebec.

It made its debut in Canadian chain restaurants in 1985, appearing on  the menu at Frits, a now-defunct Quebec-based chain. By the 1990s,  poutine had reached mass popularization in the country, after its  inclusion on the menus of other chains. It first appeared on a Burger  King menu in 1987 in Quebec, and soon spread to other locations of the  chain. The same happened with McDonald's in 1990. Canadian fast-food  chain Harvey's debuted it on menus across the country in 1992.

But poutine wasn't to remain only as street food and fast food. By  the early 2000s, it was appearing in high-end Canadian restaurants. It  was put on the menu at Aud Pied de Cochon in Montreal in 2002, where it  was topped with foie gras. Other high-end Montreal restaurants followed  suit. Garde Manger began serving an Iron Chef America-winning lobster poutine, and Pub Quartier Latin put poutine made with steak, truffles, and red wine demi-glace on their menu.

Some Canadian restaurants have made poutine their main focus. La  Banquise in Montreal began serving it in the 1980s. They started with  the standard version and an Italian version with bolognese sauce instead  of gravy. They have since expanded to serving 30 types. Smoke's  Poutinerie was started in Toronto in 2008, the first poutine-only  restaurant in that city. Other poutine-only restaurants that followed in  Canada are Poutini's House of Poutine, La Poutinerie, and Poutineville.

Poutine made its first foray into the United States in New Jersey and  New York, where a variation of the recipe called "Disco Fries" became  popular. This version substituted mozzarella or cheddar cheese for the  curds. Poutine has since become relatively common in the States, and  took hold in other countries as well, such as the United Kingdom and  Russia.

As mentioned, there are various types of poutine besides the usual  french fries, cheese curds, and gravy combination. Different types of  potatoes, cheese, and sauces can be used. Italian poutine may use  spaghetti sauce instead of gravy; veggie poutine is made with mushroom  sauce and vegetables; Irish poutine is made with lardons. La galvaude is from Gaspésie and is made with chicken and green peas. A variation in Montreal uses smoked meat.

Festivals devoted to poutine are held across Canada throughout the  year. Montreal, Ottawa, and Toronto are some cities that hold them. On  National Poutine Day, events are held and specials are available at  restaurants in countries like Canada and the United States. For example,  My Meatball Place in Toronto has given away free samples of meatball  and vegan poutine, and The Hops Spot in Syracuse has offered half-price  poutine. With so many types of poutine—and so many restaurants that  serve it in some parts of the world—there is no reason to remain hungry  on National Poutine Day.

How to Observe National Poutine Day (Canada)

Here are some ideas on how to celebrate the day:

Make your own poutine. You could make the original version or another variation of the dish. You could even make Disco Fries, the Americanized version of the dish.

Check if there is a place near you that serves poutine.

Enjoy poutine at a Canadian restaurant that specializes in the dish, such as La Banquise, Smoke's Poutinerie, Poutini's House of Poutine, La Poutinerie, or Poutineville. Smoke's Poutinerie also has some locations in the United States.

Have poutine at a restaurant in Warwick, Quebec, the town where the dish is said to have originated, or have it at Le Roy Jucep in Drummondville, Quebec, the other location where it is said to have gotten its start.

Eat some poutine at Harvey's or at another fast food restaurant in Canada.

Enjoy poutine at a high-end Canadian restaurant such as Aud Pied de Cochon, Garde Manger, or Pub Quartier Latin.

See if there are any specials on poutine today at restaurants such as My Meatball Place in Toronto or The Hops Spot in Syracuse.

Plan a trip to an upcoming poutine fest, such as Montreal's Le Grand Poutinefest, Ottawa Poutine Fest, or Toronto Poutine Fest.

Source

#Poutine 911 #Le Roy Jucep #the original one #Drummondville #Québec #travel #summer 2015 #food #fries #cheese curd #gravy #restaurant #Poutine the Works #Bacon Double Cheese Poutine #Pulled Pork Poutine #Butter Chicken Poutine #Meat Lovers Poutine #National Poutine Day #Canada #NationalPoutineDayCanada #11 April #street food #vacation #2018 #2012 #Montréal

[redheadspark]

Might I formally request Azriel with 9. Cuddling to keep warm and 1. “Your hands are cold”

A/N: This is VERY Azriel for certain! Thank you for the request, anon!

I Got You

Summary: Though past memories will haunt you, Azriel will stand by to protect you.

Warnings: Just some fluff :)

You sighed in relief as you placed your pen down, looking at the stack of papers you conquered that were taken care of throughout the last hour or so. It was your fault for letting it go on and not getting it done sooner, but you had other appointment and obligations to attend to first. Thankfully, you boss was the High Lord of Night Court, and he was more lenient with you when it came to your duties.

You were his twin after all.

Getting a small stretch in and feeling some of your muscles stretch out in both strain and satisfaction, you got up from your office chair and blew out the candle that was burning on your desk. The evening has already come and the Townhouse was already lit up inside to give a warm inviting glow to the outside world. Velaris was already coming alive that night, the mountains bringing in cooler winds from the high peaks and the bay was already at a glow.

You loved Velaris in the evening, especially in the fall since everything was now tin tinted in red and orange. Moving over to the window, you closed it since you felt the air was getting cooler and cooler by the second. As if on cue, the wooden floors under your bare feet warmed and the interior lights gave off a dim glow to it. The Townhouse was a true home for you for the past hundreds of years, giving you a place to hide and a place to be at peace.

Even with your brother being captured for 50 years.

Walking down the hallway, you went up the stairs to your own room, touching along the stairway railing and feeling your massive bathtub call your name. You didn't mind the tedious work, it was nice t be occupied and to get things gone. Being still with nothing to do was torture to you: you had to find something to do or something to fix. It was in your nature to help, to aid those who needed the help and to protect the defenseless. It was a trait that caught the eyes of your mate.

Speaking of which.

Where are you? You asked in your bond, reaching your master bedroom and slowly stripping off your sweater and shirt, avoiding your scars that were along your shoulder blades. You heard the Townhouse starting the massive claw foot tub in the middle of your bathroom suite, getting it at the right temperature for you since you liked it more on the hot side.

Nearly done at the training grounds, sweetheart. He replied softly, you grinning as your let your hair down from the braid that was behind your back, I'm in need of some time with my wife.

I'll be waiting then, You hummed in the bond as you were slowly sinking into the tub, a soft moon on your lips as the hot water was inching around your skin. Feeling your muscles come undone within moments, you leaned back against the edge of the tub and you closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting the water do tis work along with some soaps that were added with a second. It was all so soothing to the touch, making your feel like you could melt into the floor if you could. A soft smile was evident, inwardly being thankful that you were in this positive moment of time again.

Not like how it was some months ago.

Rhysand being taken under the mountain and held hostage for 50 years, Velaris and all of Night Court being cloaked from the rest of Prythian, the rumors of war becoming more and more true as the years came and went. It was all chaotic for you to endure as the High Lord’s sister and a member of the Inner Circle of Night Court. It felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders, trying your best to keep Velaris safe from prying eyes while your brother was nowhere to be found.

He saved your life in more ways than one when you two were young: concealing you in the shadows as your sister and mother were murdered, helping heal you as your wings were cut off from your bare back in retaliation from a irate Illyrian soldier, even making you part of his Inner Circle when he came into power as the High Lord of Night Court. Rhysand loved your fiercely, you were his last living family member and he would take on any risk to keep you alive in his life.

Even if that meant his own life being at risk. The stubborn fool.

Still there were plenty of nights you cried in your bed, praying to The Cauldron to bring your brother home safe and sound. You had no care about anything else of your duties as the Second in Command of Night Court, you just wanted your kin. The very brother who would tease you and make you laugh, who would hold you tight during the nightmares that involve your deceased mother, who would tell you who strong you were and that you were a leader.

Those 50 years away from him made you tough and yet weak, strong and yet unstable. But it was not all miserable, you had helped behind you when it came to caring for Velaris and Nigh Court. Your allies were in the Inner Circle, all of whom you considered your family. They swore to protect you when Rhysand became the Night Court High Lord, your safety was their priority in diplomatic negations amongst other Courts and meetings with other leaders. One member, in particular, caught your heart in more ways than one.

"Darling?"

You hummed, opening your eyes slowly to see the silhouette of your mate hovering over as you were still sprawling in the tub. The water felt a bit cooler then, making you wonder if you fell asleep and lost within your own thoughts for some time. You knew the silhouette far too well: the angled cheeks and the messy short hair, the strong shoulders and pristine upper arms. You grinned as a scarred hadn't reach down to touch the side of your face. As his fingers made contact with your cheek, you shivered.

"Your hands are cold," You murmured, sounding a bit sleepy as his hand retreated.

"I'm sorry, my dear. Come, let me get you warm then," The voice replied, you leaning up a bit in the tub as you finally saw his face amongst the lights in the room.

Azriel the Spymaster.

Azriel reached over to grab a towel ready for you as you got up slowly on your feet in the tub. Being bare and covered in water, Azriel merely kept his eyes on your content face and soft yes as he helped you from the tub. Yet before you could take the towel to dry yourself off, Azriel was rubbing the towel along your skin, starting in your hair and then down to your arms one at a time. Watching Azriel as he got you dry with patience and precision, you thought back to when you two fell in love and became mates.

It was almost like a dream come true, or something you need in the right moment. You and Azriel grew up together since your mother took Azriel in and helped him in his time of need. According to him, you caught his eyes even at a young age but he was too shy and scared to say anything. You had no problem to standing up to your twin when he was pompous or unkind to others, especially to Cassian whom you considered a younger brother at times. Azriel loved that fire in you, but he also loved the kindness that could never be dimmed from inside of you no matter how hard it was attempted.

Yet for those 50 years of being on your own in Velaris, Azriel snuck into your life without you realizing it. He gave you counsel in tough decisions, helped teach you how to fight with hand to hand combat to both make you equip to defend yourself and to keep your mind occupied, and even held you in times of sadness and loneliness. You cared for him, adored his company and his sound wisdom when to came to tactics. But just being with him made your heart light, as if he could bring you more hope than you could ever need.

So falling in love with him was both scary and yet easy.

Once you were dry, Azriel hoisted you in his arms with no care you were still naked from your bath. You rested your head against his chest, hearing the strong heartbeat under his thin shirt he wore as he walked you into the master bedroom. The warmth of the bedroom was from the lit fireplace on the other side of the room, opposite from the master king sized bed that was waiting for you. Azriel lowered you down onto the bed with ease, placing the sheet over you within an instant as he you watched him with fondness and with happiness. He paused, seeing you stare on him as he cocked his head at you.

"What?" He asked, you sighing as you shook your head.

"Nothing," You replied, "I'm just happy,"

Azriel knew your struggles even after you two were mated. Only the Inner Circle was in attendance when you two had a ceremony, thinking it was high time you two got together since clearly they all saw you two pining over one another. They all knew before you two did, which seemed rather odd but neither of you cared. The one person that wished would be there was Rhysand, but to have Azriel as your husband and have that ceremony with your new mate was enough.

Azriel loved your fiercely and with all of his being, never letting you feel any less love than you deserved. He knew the burdens you had as the second in command of a city and a Court since your brother was still captured, and he made sure your needs were met before anything else. You wouldn't have lasted those 50 years without Azriel, and you were grateful for him.

Azriel stripped down to his own bare skin like you, slipping under the covers to pull you into his arms. You felt all of his hard muscles, breathing in his distinct scent and aroma that you knew far too well after being mated for a few centuries, and the body heat that he had summing warmth along your bones and blood. He was your home, everything and anything that he could give you would be more than enough as you two held one another under the covers to stay warm and secure. Feelings his fingers dance along the scars where your wings used to be, almost as if he wanted to soothe away that haunted memory and replace it with something more loving and kind.

He as already done that.

When Rhsyand escaped from Under the Mountain and with the defeat of Amarantha, you propelled into your brothers arms as you two were reunited again at the House of Wind. He held you for so long, crying in your hair and you feeling that love again. Your worries were no longer evident, the haunted night you would have with nightmares and sleepless hours were going to fade away since you had your brother back and your household was stable again. But it only took your brother a few minutes to realize that you and Azriel were mates, and it made you worry. He may have been gone for centuries as a prisoner for Amarantha, but he was still your bother.

Your overprotective brother.

He and Azriel only spoke for a good 30 minutes in privacy, though you knew Rhysand would never go against your own heart since he knew you were set in your own ways. Just like him. So he only left Azriel with a warning:

"You hurt my sister, I'll break your neck,"

"Fair enough, Rhys,"

You felt sleepiness hit you as Azriel as still tracing your scars along your backside as he was pressing gentle kisses along your forehead, your arms around his lower waist as your legs tangled in one another. This kind of intimacy was something you both loved and craved, it the deepest way you both wished to be loved and to have one another, nothing being a barrier for either one of you as the rest of the world can burn for all you cared.

He was the fire in you that you need wished to extinguish, the light that could never vanish, the very love you longer for since you were young and naive to the concept of love. His love was better, deeper, filled with promise and with care.

"I got you, my love," He hummed against your hair as he could almost sense you were thinking of the past, of what you went through with your brother, and how you felt alone. Azriel held you close, making you hear his breathing and feel his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, true examples that what you had together was real and this was no trick of the mind, "Let it all go, okay? I love you,"

You two held each other that night, letting the fire in the fireplace dance in the dim light while you feel asleep while being held by your lover and savior.

The End

Halloween Prompts

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel x female reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acomaf fanfiction #acotar #acotar fluff #acotar fanfiction #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of wings and ruin #fanfiction #writing