#please write more if you'd like to anyone who reads this

[floating-far-from-earth]

hi, so remember that one odile looping au where she was instead in sasasap? yeah, I thought more about it. There's some writing accompanying the art under the cut~! (though uh, warning of. self-harm implications at the end?? our dear odile is Not Doing Well!)

It's been a good few loops since you'd been in the House with the rest of the group. After an... event you're not going to think about, you'd spent a good amount of loops going through the Dormont library, reading through any and all books you could get your hands on.

(No familytales, which you feel bitter about. You're stuck in this hollowed out state, not allowed to progress further, but not allowed to end, and you can't even have that. You came here to try and connect with a part of your own heritage that was taken from you, tried to learn more, to hope that maybe you'd find some sense of belonging that you'd been missing. And now… Now, you're barely even living. Barely even-)

…Returning to your original train of thought, it's been a while since you made your way through the House. You hadn't seen much point in it, to be quite honest. It's not like you can beat the King.

(After all, you've tried so many times already, and nothing you did worked. Not trying to hone your skills through fighting the sadnesses scattered around the House, not through a thorough inspection of all the rooms, not through trying to outsmart the King, nothing you did worked. There's that one attack, just that one attack that the King uses, and maybe if you'd just be able to avoid it you'd be able to defeat him-)

(But you've tried. You've tried, and he always uses it, always kills you before you can even tell the Child to run. You should have never let yourself agree to bring them with you, but you can't bring yourself to try and spare them of this now. They're a part of your group, and you promised that they could come, and you don't want to disappoint them, even if you can't even beat the King, even if the first time around, the Chosen was-)

You take a deep breath. You are not facing the King this loop, you will not see it, so it doesn't matter.

(You don't know whether he kills the Chosen so brutally when you're not around. After all, in the last loop you faced him, he hadn't wasted waste any time in dispatching you at all.)

(…You're unwilling to find out how things play out when you're not there, but for her sake, you hope it's quick.)

(And it's not like it matters, when you're the only one to remember.)

(…The only one. The only one. The only one the only one the only one gems who even are you at this point something jagged and pulverized to small bits until everything feels like a blur and you can barely hold your thoughts together you don't want to be here please someone anyone get you out of this hell you don't want to see them die again you-)

You hold back a sigh. Annoying. All these thoughts and feelings are so annoying. There's something else you should be focusing on. After all, there's a reason you neglected to wrestle the lead from the Trapfinder, letting yourself trail behind the Chosen. A reason you hadn't pushed, hadn't reached for the control of deciding where to go (even if it caused the Trapfinder to feel useless, even if it made them feel unneeded, you couldn't bring yourself to care, to regret, not when you were losing your mind having to see them examine the exact same rooms, the exact same things every time like clockwork, not when you knew exactly where to go to progress and had specific things you wanted to check-) There's a reason.

After all, you know that, even without your input, the Trapfinder will find the way through the House. You can trust them to do that, at least.

This, in turn, gives you time to think. And you need that. Because for this loop? You're planning to go to the House library for the first time.

And you have to figure out a way to get your group to let you do that. Because, despite everything, you still care what they think of you on some level. You don't want them to worry about you. To know that you couldn't figure this out. To-

You do.

So you wonder. Because, you'd heard them talking about you on the way up to the House. You may not care to bother with trying to decipher what exactly they're planning to do, how much they've figured out, but you're sure they've noticed how off you're acting. And you don't think they'd allow you to stay by yourself in the library, not without having a Talk, and that's not something you can afford to have.

The Trapfinder runs into another sadness, and you don't even notice until a stray scissors attack cuts into your side. The Chosen quickly heals you, sending you a worried glance as she does so, but you don't pay it any attention because…

You think you just found your way through.

(You wonder how badly you'll have to injure yourself so they let you stay behind.)

(It's not like it'll last anyways.)

#my art #my writing #in stars and time #isat au #isat spoilers #sasasap spoilers #isat odile #you know the way frozen people are depicted in sasasap is different from isat #as in; in isat frozen people are colored in entirely black with white outlines while in sasasap they're colored in normally #which I think is interesting #sasasap librarian beloved..... #also those shelves took a While to lineart please appreciate them #erosion takes time au

[mixelation]

heya, so i've read your fic "it's about magic eyeball biology" right when it came out on AO3 but i just saw it's not online anymore. is there a way you'd be willing to send me the file? I REALLY like it and I was reading it basically every day for a few days because it made me laugh

i pulled it because i was getting comments about it on other fics and that was super annoying. but i guess i don't have a problem reposting it to tumblr. some notes:

this is an AU based on a bunch of jokes in this tag (chronological order)

someone asked about how weird it would be to be an SI and find out about the eyeball symbionts, so i wrote about tori finding out. this fic is a joke. it is not "canon." no one in plasticity, mutagenicity, or any other fic of mine has eyeball symbionts. i do not find it interesting, amusing, or fun to explore this concept in other fics. i do not want comments or questions about it. please respect this

the word i chose to use is "symbiont," which in my experience is the more common term used by people who study symbiosis. "symbiote" is from marvel.

Tori was successful in not vomiting the first time she watched an autopsy. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, but she ignored it, watching Keizo’s hands and pointedly not looking at the face of their latest victim. If she just focused on the steady removal of organs from the abdomen and not the face, she could pretend they weren’t from a person. 

Then Keizo moved on to the head, and she had to look. He pried open the eyelids, and her stomach rolled. 

“The eyes aren’t so bad,” Keizo narrated, voice gruff and bored. He held the lids open with one hand while he cut away with the other. “I like to use curved scissors to-- pay attention-- cut through the fascial sheath, and then you can cut away the orbital muscles and it’ll pop right out. Orochimaru-sama isn’t going to let you touch anyone with a doujutsu, so don’t worry about damaging the…”

Tori frowned, barely listening to Keizo, as the victim’s eye did pop right out. It was smooth, almost a perfect sphere, with the dark brown iris raised ever so slightly. Pink viscera clung to it in Keizo’s hand. 

“Hold on,” Tori interrupted, twisting her neck to try and look at the back of the eyeball. “Where’s the… you know, the optic nerve?”

She was pretty sure the optic nerve was, like, huge. It was a bundle of over a million nerve fibers or something insane like that, if she remembered the human anatomy unit correctly. Her teacher had called it a “bridge cable.”

Then again, that unit was from an advanced high school class, and Keizo was looking at her like she was particularly stupid. Even if he was mean, violent, and uncooperative, he definitely knew more about cutting out eyeballs than Tori.

“Is it smaller than it looks in cartoons?” she tried. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Keizo sneered. “Here, you do the second eye.”

That was the good thing about eyes, Tori supposed. You got two for the price of one. 

He passed her the curved scissors, which were slick with whatever goo lined an eye socket, and Tori hesitantly put down the notebook she’d been writing in. Feeling very light-headed, she copied Keizo’s movements, gently separating the victim’s eyelids and praying something would happen to intervene in what she was about to do. A fire alarm going off, or a earthquake, or fuck-- she’d take the hideout being actively attacked over this. 

No act of god stopped her. Her hands were shaking so hard that she accidentally punctured the sclera and transparent, goopy vitreous started leaking out. 

The eye did pop right out, though. There was no nerve at the back, and no evidence of one in the back of the pink socket. 

Looking into the face of dead, eyeless person, she could either feel the horror at what she’d done seeping into her very bones, or she could wonder: What the fuck?

xXx

She asked for an anatomy book. 

“I don’t see what the point is,” Kabuto told her. “You’re getting hands-on experience.”

“I want to know how things work when they’re still alive,” Tori replied. 

“Well…” Kabuto rolled his chair back from his desk towards a narrow bookstand of books and scrolls he kept in his clinic. “I suppose Orochimaru would approve. Here, you can look through this while we wait for that drug to kick in.”

He handed her what was clearly a picture book meant for children, a deeply condescending smile on his face. Tori pressed her lips together to prevent herself from saying something disrespectful, then forced her face into a polite smile. 

There was a chapter on different senses, and she slowly flipped through the chapter on chakra networks in mild interest, before she found the two-page spread covering sight. 

Mother of Christ, Tori thought. 

She hadn’t found an optic nerve because there wasn’t one. 

xXx

Part of Tori’s argument for why she shouldn’t be dissected like a frog was that there was no reason to think there was much special about her biologically, including her own anatomy. She thought it would be safer to simply not say anything.

But now she knew. She knew every person in this world was a walking sin against logic, and that knowledge, sitting in the Oto clinic with Kabuto, was a horrible, heavy burden that made it hard to breathe.

The picture book Kabuto had loaned her had explained vision to her the way Tori thought an alien who’d never even seen a human and also who didn’t have sight themselves might explain it: special cells at the back of the eye reacted to light, and then that information was transferred directly into the brain via a complex network of chakra, and this was not even the worst part. 

The worst part was that eyeballs were an entirely separate organism. A mutualistic creature that colonized newborn baby eye sockets and then metamorphosed into basically a giant eyeball that fed visual information into the brain in exchange for protection and nutrients. 

“During pregnancy,” the book had explained in a little Did you know? box, “a mommy’s body makes special hormones, which tell the visual symbiont to make babies too! The babies are called larvae, which have lots of little tentacles to help them move around. They like to stay with mommy, though, and so they find the baby when she holds it. Sometimes, when there’s a problem with mommy and she can’t donate larvae to her baby, a doctor can help daddy’s eyes make babies, or sometimes another mommy will donate!”

Tori was going insane. She was going to hyperventilate. What the FUCK!

“This is the worst thing I ever read,” she muttered to herself, eyes stuck on the book. Whatever drug Kabuto had given her was making her dizzy, but she felt like her vision was laser-focused and perfectly taking in the bright cartoon of two eyeball symbiont creatures. “Is this a joke? This has to be a joke.”

She was vaguely aware of Kabuto frowning at her. “A joke?”

“Visual symbionts?” Tori squeaked out, sounding and feeling hysterical. 

“Yes…?” Kabuto repeated. 

“No,” Tori argued. “No way.”

Bemused, Kabuto dug out more textbooks, these ones meant for actual medical professionals. He flipped through passages on syndromes related to host-symbiont genetic incompatibilities, being colonized by more than one symbiont, symbiont maldevelopment and absenteeism, chakra incompatibilities, if the symbiont spontaneously regrew its tentacles and left your head in order to start its sexual reproductive cycle. 

“Is this…” Tori felt like she couldn’t breathe. She felt more apt to vomit than she did when she’d fucked up trying to cut out someone’s eye. “Is this a genjutsu…?”

“Did you really not know about them?” Kabuto asked. “I thought you had biological training.”

Tori had to work very hard not to break down into hysterics. 

xXx

The good news was that “I have a special nerve that connects my eyeball to my brain and lets me see” sounded exactly as insane to both Kabuto and Orochimaru as “eyeball symbiont creature” did to Tori. 

Well, no, that wasn’t really good news. But she felt vindicated at both their absolutely baffled looks. 

She had to explain it three times– dropping words like “optic chiasma” and “retinal blind spot” before Kabuto believed her enough to press his fingers to her temple and send chakra into her eyes. 

“There is something there,” he said, sounding deeply perplexed, and Orochimaru perked up like a child receiving a Christmas gift. “I think-- yes, it’s a nerve.”

“I think you should be able to see it,” Tori said, “if you shine a light into the pupil.”

They did. Tori did indeed have a white spot at the back of her eye, right where her optic nerve entered her eye. 

“You’re like a cephalopod,” Orochimaru informed her, sounding like a dog owner telling their pet they were a very good girl. “This is how their eyes are arranged, an absolutely beautiful evolution. Oh, but the approach of the nerve is different. How fascinating.”

The examination ended with Orochimaru gleefully jabbing a needle into both Tori’s eyes. This was uncomfortable and painful, and he talked about how the presence of an optic nerve might be part of her future vision. 

At least this backs up my story, Tori thought as Orochimaru’s cool hand held her face down.

xXx

Orochimaru strolled into lab the next day and pulled Tori aside to go over the results of her test with her. He took her down the hall to an office, which was surprisingly homey, all things considered. Orochimaru’s office was lined with bookshelves, and had a nice wood desk and a comfortable looking chair behind it. There was an ornamental lamp, which along with the desk chair, were the closest to “creature comforts” that Tori had seen in Oto so far. 

She sat opposite to Orochimaru, in a much less comfortable chair. He spread a scroll out on the desk in front of her. 

“Do you know how to read the results of a DNA test?” he asked. 

“Uh,” Tori answered. “Not like whatever you’re about to show me.”

He hummed back at her, not at all bothered. “Ah, your otherworldly science. You should tell me about that later. For now…”

He explained how he’d compared the DNA extracted from her eye to DNA extracted from the hair he’d ripped off of her previously. They had matched exactly. He’d also ran her eye DNA against several visual symbionts they had on file, across many vertebrate taxa, and found no match at all. 

“Your eyes are one-hundred percent Tori,” he said. “It’s amazing.”

“...thanks?” Tori tried. As a joke she added, “I grew them myself.”

“Hmm,” he answered. “I wish I had more of you, and more of other animals from your world. I’d like to study how they evolved.”

“I don’t understand how they didn’t evolve here,” Tori told him honestly. They had a special socket and everything! “I think… do other animals have eyes here? I’m pretty sure eyes evolved more than once. In my world, I mean.”

Orochimaru leaned back in his seat, eyeing her indulgently, a smile tugging at his lips. “The leading theory is that the symbiont started as a flesh-eating parasite that attacked proto-eyes in vertebrates, and then evolved with us until it simply replaced our eyes. Most babies are born with soft tissue in their sockets, to feed potential symbionts, and some think that growth is left over from millions of years ago when our ancestors had their own eyes.”

“Oh,” Tori said, unsure how to respond to that. She’d been taught parasitism and mutualism were opposite sides of the same symbiotic spectrum, so moving from one end to the other made sense. “Well, that happens sometimes.”

Orochimaru laughed. 

They chatted. Orochimaru was good at answering questions thoroughly and without making Tori feel like she was stupid the way other Oto residents did, and he nodded along to her talking about whatever eyeball-related thing that came to her mind. Red-green colorblindness being a sex-linked trait, for example, was an extremely interesting topic for Orochimaru. 

“So do you not have the genes for photoreceptors at all?” Tori asked curiously. 

Instead of answering her immediately, Orochimaru had started writing down notes to himself. With the exception of occasionally labeling a tube or sample, Tori had never actually seen him write anything down before, and he scribbled with a sort of fervent focus. 

“I’ve never looked,” he said eventually. “There’s evidence for photosensitivity in those without symbionts, but… It would be interesting to use your genome to search for any analogous loci…”

Because the conversation flowed easily, Tori eventually felt bold enough to ask:

“So is this why you can just pass sharingan around like hot potatoes?”

Orochimaru paused in the middle of writing, blinking at her. 

“Hot potatoes?”

Tori blushed, and then backpedaled. “I know you… uh, Sasuke is going to get into a fight with Danzo at some point.”

She gestured at her forearm, and Orochimaru let a loud, rasping laugh. 

“I don’t think Danzo can see particularly well with those,” he said, eyes mirthful. “But I suppose eye transplants would be quite difficult with a nerve to connect, wouldn’t they?”

Tori nodded. She was pretty sure they weren’t even possible. There were… a lot of problems, there. But if the eyeball was supposed to be an external creature, it had to be easier to pass them around. 

“They have quite a high success rate here,” he answered, tone flippant as he played with the pen in his hand. “Unfortunately, an eye transplanted into a non-related host can rarely be coaxed into reproducing.”

“Huh,” Tori answered. “Why?”

Orochimaru’s lips quirked up into a smirk. “Perhaps that can be your next project.” 

xXx

It didn’t get to be Tori’s next project, because Oto ended up going up in flames. 

She didn’t even have time or energy to think about how everyone in this world was running around with symbiont eyeballs instead of regular eyes until months later, sitting in Sasori’s workshop and carefully stirring some foul-smelling concoction while he excavated someone’s insides so he could hide weapons inside or something. 

“You know, you guys should really invent magnetic stir-bars,” Tori said, eyeing the beaker of slowly bubbling sludge and wondering if the fumes could hurt her. 

Apparently Sasori was in a bad mood today, because he put the horrifying… scooping tool… down and turned to her fully. 

Like carving a pumpkin, Tori thought against her will, eyes fixated on the… organ scooper?

“What stupid thing are you rambling about now?” Sasori asked her, voice harsh. “You’re distracting me. If you make a single mistake with that poison--”

Tori was trying very hard to pay attention to Sasori’s threats and not think about all the horrible squelching noises of the organs she’d removed herself. It was better to listen to Sasori, really. Probably increased her chance of survival, even. 

There was movement behind Sasori. Tori squeaked in surprise. Sasori clicked his tongue in annoyance, picked up the organ scooper, and then used it to catch something right out of the air with the ease of a professional lacrosse player. 

“Oh, disgusting,” he said, staring down at it in evident annoyance. 

Something else plopped to the floor with an audible, vaguely wet thud. It rolled across the concrete floor, and Sasori trapped it against the floor with a firm sandal. Tori leaned over the bench to see what was going on, and saw the transparent ooze of viscera across the cement and gray tentacles trashing against the floor and the sides of Sasori’s sandals. 

“Is that an eyeball symbiont?” Tori asked, suddenly excited. She leapt to her feet and came to stand beside him, peering into the shell of the organ scooper. 

Sure enough, an eyeball with a halo of tentacles was rolling back and forth, desperately trying to escape. 

Holy shit, Tori thought. That was… that was amazing, actually. 

“It’s sort of cute,” she said. 

Sasori looked at her like she was insane. This was, apparently, such a bizarre statement that he didn’t immediately react to the eyeball finally lurching itself forward and out of the scoop. Tori caught it easily in one hand as it fell. 

“Don’t touch it,” Sasori hissed, grabbing her wrist. “Are you insane? It’ll induce your eyes too.”

“...what?” Tori asked, blinking back at him. “Oh, because the tentacles mean it’s trying to have sex?”

She stared down at the thing in her hand. The tentacles wriggled between her fingers. Kinky little bastards, weren’t they?

Sasori was looking at her with… awe wasn’t really the word. More like: What the fuck, I have never seen someone this carelessly insane before, and I am horrified that humanity could reach these depth. 

Which was kind of rude, actually, because they lived with Hidan. 

“What do you mean by ‘induce’?” Toi asked. 

“Do you not know how eyeballs work?” Sasori asked, sounding just shy of hysterical. 

Apparently, handling an eyeball symbiont in its sexual reproduction mode could induce a symbiont in a host to also leave the head and revert to its sexual cycle, so they could both run off and hopefully have an eyeball orgy with as many symbionts as possible. Tori guessed that made sense. The symbiont reproduced mainly asexually, but most things did occasionally run off to have sex. That was just life. 

Sasori was absolutely disgusted by the entire process. His symbionts were the only living part of him, and he was personally horrified by the idea of them crawling out of his head to make babies. 

He also seemed to be viscerally repulsed by the threat of a loose symbiont in someone’s living quarters, not because it might affect his housemates, but because he didn’t like the idea of more tentacled symbionts flopping around. 

“Is this like… an ongoing societal problem?” Tori wondered. Did people kill them on sight, or was this considered a beautiful miracle of life? 

She didn’t get to find out, because her question triggered a rant from Sasori about how much he hated them, and that they should just stay in people’s heads and look pretty like they were meant to. 

“Is it common to leave a dead host like this?” Tori asked when he calmed down. They couldn’t really move on their own unless they went into sex mode, after all… 

“Why are you still holding it?” Sasori demanded. His own disgust was the only thing keeping him from prying it out of her hand himself. 

“Oh, I don’t have a visual symbiont,” Tori said, blinking at Sasori. “I just grew my own eyes. Uh. Like an octopus.”

Sasori very slowly let go of her wrist. He stared at her, perplexed. 

The symbiont in her hand wriggled some more. Her own eyeballs stayed firmly in place. 

“...pick up the one on the floor,” Sasori said eventually. 

He wanted to keep them. He liked saving his puppet’s original eyes. Usually, when they left the host, he had to kill them and then isolate them for a week to be sure the hormones that could induce his own symbionts dissipated. That meant, once he was able to safely handle them, they were not in pristine condition. This, perhaps, contributed to why he hated them so much. They were frustrating art material. 

Tori thought, based on what she’d read about things doctors did, he was being a bit paranoid, the way some people didn’t like touching raw meat. 

“You’ll have to kill them and preserve them for me,” Sasori said, having fully accepted that Tori was a weird freak faster than she would have anticipated. 

Tori felt bad when she killed them, slipping a scalpel into their backs where Sasori indicated. 

“You’ll see more live ones,” Sasori sniffed when she complained. “This happens with about a quarter of my bodies.”

Fascinating, Tori thought. She’d never had one of her failed surgery… patients… do this. Maybe what they did in Oto also killed the symbiont? 

“And you don’t use all those bodies for full puppets, right?” Tori asked. “You won’t need every symbiont.”

“You can’t keep it as a pet,” Sasori sneered. 

Obviously she didn’t want a pet. She wanted to run some experiments. This was really interesting, after all! 

Instead of earnestly explaining this to Sasori, who seemed a bit on edge and likely to yell at her, she went for jokes at other people’s expense. He loved those. 

“I want to see if Jashin protects Hidan from them,” Tori told him, and he snorted. “Or see if we can get one to colonize Deidara’s mouth-hand.”

“He will kill you,” Sasori said, not without a hint of bemusement. “You’ll cut off all their tentacles next. I like to use curved scissors…”

#it's about magic eyeball biology #my writing #toriverse

[allyricas]

Steve making the most pining, sad boy mixtape that he listens to on repeat. It's about his friend Eddie.

Eddie who is clueless about Steve's pining. Eddie who is the most tactile person he's ever met. So he's always slinging an arm around Steve or leaning on his shoulder during movie night. He'll run and jump on Steve's back for a piggyback ride or tackle him into the pool. It's slowly killing Steve because Eddie has no idea that Steve's in love with him.

In fact, for all the flirting Eddie does with Steve, the man has no idea he's even queer. 100 percent oblivious. Eddie has convinced himself that it's totally normal to flirt with everyone (he only flirts with Steve) and that it doesn't mean anything to cuddle your male friend on a regular basis (it means something) and poor Stevie is just suffering.

Maybe Eddie needs a ride one day because his van craps out, so he asks Steve to drive him to Indy and of course, the tape starts. after the first few songs Eddie's is having some thoughts. One, who the fuck is this tape about? Whoever it is, Steve clearly has BIG feelings for this girl. It makes Eddie feel like shit.

So he just keeps listening until he finally snaps and asks Steve who the chick is. Steve's confused, but Eddie presses further. He asks who the tape is about.

"What's her name? The girl you made this mix for?"

"There's no girl." Steve replies. His voice is tight like he's upset. Eddie would be so, so confused.

"Um, this is like some unrequited love pop music shit. Obviously you're in love with someone, so what's her name?" Eddie has to push.

Steve just tells Eddie to fuck off. They're both sorta pissed now. Eddie thought they were good enough friends that Steve would tell him. Steve can't have this conversation considering he's in love with his friend.

"Why won't you tell me her name...c'mon Stevie, I won't make fun of you. Is it Nancy again? Shitty considering she's dating Robbie. Tell me. Please. I'm dying to know who could have possibly inspired this mixtape." Eddie knows he's being an ass. He will get Steve to tell him.

Steve says nothing. Literally says nothing the rest of the way to Indy and back. It's not until they're pulling back into Hawkins that Eddie starts pestering again.

"Come on, dude. Who is this mystery girl you're so head over heels for? I mean literally, you put that song on there. Tears for Fears man, tell me, tell me, tell me-"

"It's not about a a girl. Shut the fuck up, man." Steve finally snaps. Eddie is just repeating over and over for Steve to tell him and it's annoying that he's so sure it's some girl.

"Then who?"

"I made the tape about you, asshole."

"What?"

"It's not some girl I'm in love with, it's you Eddie." Steve finally admits and he watches Eddie's face drop in horror. As Steve pulls up to Eddie's trailer, neither of them say a word. Steve is contemplating driving his car into a tree and Eddie is in shock. Because this cannot be happening, Eddie is straight and um, he definitely does not like Steve Harrington. Definitely isn't having a full fledged crisis right now.

"Man, I'm not... I'm not gay. I don't like you that way." Eddie finally tells him, refusing to meet Steve's eyes. Why does every word he just said feel like it's breaking Eddie apart too. He isn't sure he's being honest with Steve right now, but he cannot deal with this. He can't deal with the heartbreak all over Steve's face.

So Eddie gets out of the car and walks into his trailer. He doesn't look back or slow down. Steve is a second away from losing it. What was just pining is a rejection now. Worse than that, it feels like the whole world just fell down around Steve.

Despite how scared Steve was to tell Eddie, blatant rejection wasn't something he was worried about. Eddie flirted with him all the time. Always touching, always leaning into Steve's space. Calling him big boy or sweetheart. How could Steve have been so wrong? Eddie wasn't even into guys, let alone Steve. Eddie specifically said that he didn't like Steve that way. Eddie doesn't want him.

So, Steve listens to his sad mixtape and swears he'll move on even if that feels impossible.

Psst: read the follow up Moving On Pt. 1

#why do i love oblivious eddie so much #please write more if you'd like to anyone who reads this #i'd like to think that Steve 'moves on' and starts dating a nice guy only for Eddie to be like seriously jealous #but he refuses to deal with his big bi crisis and so he's just a dick #and steve and eddie get into a blowout screaming match because eddie rejected steve #why does eddie get to act like this once steve's finally kinda happy #and it can have a happy ending where eddie finally kisses steve in the rain and they live happily ever after #but lots of pining on both sides in the mean time #steddie #steddie angst #not edited so errors expected #Spotify

[r0semultiverse]

What We Do in the Land of Ooo

🧛‍♂️ What We Do in the Shadows x Adventure Time crossover AU! ⚔

Finn Mertens in place of Guillermo de la Cruz

Marceline Abadeer in place of Nadja of Antipaxos

Bonnibel Bubblegum in place of Laszlo Cravensworth

Jake the dog in place of Colin Robinson

Vampire King in place of Nandor The Relentless

Betty Grof in place of The Guide

The Lich in place of Baron Afanas

Peppermint Butler in place of Wallace the Necromacer

Simon Petrikov in place of Derek

BMO in place of Nadja Doll (her old consciousness uploaded or something was an idea I had)

Marshall Lee & Gary Gumball/Prince in place of Sean & Charmaine

#I want to clarify that I don't have any plans to write this out as some sort of fanfic. #I also don't have any plans to draw actual redesigns for any of these characters. #this is all an indefinite WIP; anyone who wants to make content about the idea please tag me please I'd to see it! #also want to mention that this was somewhat inspired by recent fionna and cake content! #I suppose this AU could take place in the land of Ooo or it could take place on staten island but I was thinking land of Ooo #up to yall though if you wanna sketch any ideas from this lol #I was just trying to find images that somewhat fit the character they're in place of if you're curious as to why I chose the images I did! #also this isn't going with the nandermo stuff to clarify before people are like hey this is gross; no read the tags first; read my rambles! #these aren't 1-to-1 character crossovers; obviously I'd want to take some liberties with each of them if I were to put more effort into it! #vampire bonnie bubblegum would be cool to see! it doesn't need to make sense; we're having fun with it here! Vampire Betty Grof too! #Finn could also be an adult here if y'all want; I wasn't thinking too hard about this; just popped into my head & wanted to jot stuff down! #I'd also be curious to hear what adventure time characters you'd put in the roles of the wwdits ones; replacing mine or ones #that i didn't end up listing! I'd love to see a vampire Simon Petrikov & Finn Mertens though if anyone wants to draw that. anyway thats it! #mine #op #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #adventure time #adventure time fionna and cake #fionna and cake #adventure time spoilers

[bluetimeombre]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ And I wouldn't marry me, either.

You were Azriel's mate, but it took losing you three times for him to realise.

[this is long. i'm talking 5k words long so i've split it into two parts. anyway, azriel is the best bat boy and no i won't hear anyone out. i'm so excited to write for him and hope you enjoy. it's very angsty but that's what i love. i hope i can write more for him and maybe other characters if you like. it's been a while since i've actually read the series so if any information is wrong, do let me know. also it was my first time using the term y/n and yes, i cringed NOT PROOF READ... enjoy]

warnings: references to sexual assault and references to suicide. nothing explicit but please don't read if this is sensitive to you.

Part 2 soon…

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The first, was the worst...

You were Rhys's half sister, the bastard daughter of his father. But when your mother had died giving birth to you, Rhysand's mother took you in and raised you with your brother and sister. You were so little and adorable that your sister loved you at once. Rhys did to, at some point of your life, you were sure he actually cared about you.

But when his mother and sister had died, his eyes shifted, he started to look at you with contempt. After all, you were only his half-sister. The worst half. He only kept you around because it's what his mother would have wanted.

And because there was no way Cassian and Azriel would ever let anything happen to you.

Besides, Rhysand knew when to use you.

Although Azriel was his spymaster, you were pretty good at staying swift-footed too. And you were frankly, very terrifying when you wanted to be.

You tread with power through the war camps, all of them looking at you as you went. All of their gazes wrecked with a predatory gaze. They either wanted to have their way with you, or kill you. Or both.

Rhys had said you could handle it, it was only supposed to be a check in. Cassian hadn't liked it, neither had Mor but it was Azriel who had almost- and for the first time- disobeyed his high lord to accompany you. But no, your brother wanted you to do this alone, so alone you would.

Just to show him you could.

'I can come with you,' Azriel had said, standing in your room as you tied your boots up. 'I won't even have to be seen.' At that, his shadows wrapped up your calf.

You smiled at them, as if they were his own pet. 'I'll manage just fine. Besides, i'm sure that's what Rhys wants, me needing a man.'

It had done nothing to calm your friend. The worry was still stuck between his brows, marring his handsome features. You'd held his cheeks, your wings hiding the two of you. His large ones (enough to swallow the both of you) over-lapped yours.

It was the last time you'd feel your wings.

The war camp wasn't as easy as you'd hoped. It was terror and horror in a place. You'd been to the court of nightmares, you'd gone to the slaughter of the spring court after they killed your family. But this, this was hell of another kind.

You had no idea how many days you'd been locked up, wrists bound in chains and hanging from the cell roof above you. Blood rolled down your arms from the force you'd tried to use to get them out. Your eye was swollen shut and your body trembled in pain.

All because they wanted to know your brothers secrets, and you wouldn't budge.

Your check was only supposed to be a day, but you were sure it had been longer. Days of endless pain and torture. Your uniform hung in rags of stripped material, your hair matted with blood and hiding your face.

You'd used the last of your energy to keep your walls up. You weren't anyone's mate, you didn't have anyone on the other end trying to feel what you felt. But should Rhys come looking (though you doubted it) you didn't want him to feel it. You didn't want anyone in your mind.

The gates opened with a sickening clash.

One of the Illyrian's knelt in front of you, his wings hiding those coming in behind you. 'Listen sweetheart. I don't want to make this any harder than it's about to get. All you have to do is tell us your brother's hide outs.'

You grit your teeth, staring down at the ground.

'So loyal, to a man who doesn't care if you live or die.'

Suddenly, your wings twitched as hands grasped them. Brute hands, the sort you wouldn't want touching any part of you.

Fear spiked in you, horror twisting your gut. 'What are you doing?'

'I told you I didn't want to get things messier, darling.'

You whipped your head from side to side, trying and failing to get a look at the assailants behind you. Your wings were being held apart, no matter how hard you tried to bat them away. You knew the sort of people they were, and what they did to girls like you.

That's when the begging started. 'No, no please. Anything. I'll do anything! Beat me, kill me, rape me, not my wings, please!'

'Anything?' the bastard asked, tongue poking out from his lips. 'Then tell me where your lord's hideouts are?'

You should betray him, you thought. He would never lose his wings for you. Perhaps it was stubbornness that kept you from, or maybe you were clinging to the last bit of love you want from him.

The bastard scoffed, 'anything, she says. Your brother has his own bitch wrapped around his finger.'

That's when they started hacking at your wings.

Your screams tore through your throat, blood spitting and dripping down your chin. Tears soon joined when they hacked away at the bone, the membrane, the flesh of it all. The three of them worked through your screams and your tears and your pain, tearing and cutting at it like it was nothing more than paper.

Not your whole life.

Let them hear you. You hoped your brother heard you, you hoped all and every court heard the pain.

Eventually, even you couldn't keep screaming. The only sound was the hacking away at your wings and the drops of blood.

'Now look at these beauties. I've got a perfect spot on my wall for these.'

They left you after that. There wasn't much more damage they could do. It already felt like they'd destroyed your life. You had never really thought about your wings, they were just part of you, as much as your wit or hair was. But they'd took it and now, you felt empty. Never would you fly with Azriel again, or use your wings to smack Cassian over the head.

Rhys, your dear brother, had took that from you.

The days blended in together after that. You were pooled in your own tears and blood, vomiting up anything they forced down your throat. No, they'd made it very clear they didn't want you dead. They just took pride in making it feel like you were.

At some point, you'd stopped reacting to the gate opening. You let them do whatever they wanted with you. Your wrists were still chained, arms still hanging up, your clothes hanging on your thin body in strips of dirt.

'No...' you heard a mumble. 'What have they done to you?'

Suddenly, the chains gave way and you lurched forward, with no strength to catch you. Luckily, you didn't have to, as strong and warm arms pulled you into his chest.

'Hey, wake up, look at me, dammit.'

Azriel.

You'd know the voice in the darkest days, in the pit of your worst nightmare you'd know.

You try to speak but your head's heavy, your lips are stone and your arms can't lift to hold onto him. You're exhausted, you're dying. The only thing you could do use all your strength to try to open your eyes.

'Please, please, look at me. You have to look at me,'

You were trying, you wanted to tell hm, snap at him, but you couldn't.

You felt Azriel shake, or maybe you were. Then, there was wet drops landing on your cheeks- you flinched.

'I'm sorry, i'm sorry. Rhys! Rhys! hurry up, please!' he was screaming. You'd never heard him scream before.

You heard the rush of feet at the cell doors, you knew it was your brother. You knew it from the presence of him, from the shuffling of feet and chocked sob. Your brother didn't cry, least of all for you.

'Her wings, oh mother, her wings,' said Azriel, his voice barley above that of a whisper.

Your wings. You didn't need reminding. They were gone, long and far gone. You were without a part of you, the very part of your soul that loved to be free. Never would you watch the stars up close or fly over everyone. Never race Cassian or make jokes with Az.

No, this would destroy you.

'y/n,' your half-brother called. 'No, y/n. Can you hear me?'

Your lips parted, mumbling. 'Hurts.'

Azriel's grip on you tightened. 'I know, we're gonna get you out of here, just hold on for me.'

You wanted to tell him you would hold on, you'd always need to hold on to him. That, no matter what he asks, you'd do it. To kill, to live, to breathe, to die.

And that's when it clicked. Amongst all the pain and the doubt. In your blood soaked clothes. In the fear you wouldn't make it, there was a tug. Weak and one-sided, but there. You knew you'd be safe with Azriel, knew you would always be with him.

Mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The pain subsided to a dull ache, there and beating but not excruciating. You were warm and covered in a soft material. Nothing like the cell you'd been kept in. Your fingertips sunk into something soft- a bed. Your bed. It was familiar in its lavender scent to you and the silk wrapped around you gave you some semblance of warmth.

Your wings.

Even coming to consciousness was difficult. You were exhausted but light, without the weight of wings holding you down. You'd never realised how much you needed to feel that weight, to feel pulled down in order to be free.

Gone, all gone.

Your hand twitches around something cold, a shadow holding your hand, creeping up your side.

'You're awake, thank the couldron.'

It wasn't Azriel, master of the shadows. It wasn't your mate. Mate. The word replayed like a terrible song in your mind.

How dare the mother do this to Az. How dare he- nothing but loyal and kind- get stuck with a person made in darkness, who bled shadows, who's heart was so full of hate there wasn't room for love. They'd cursed Az, with you.

But luckily it wasn't him, it was Rhysand.

'It really happened,' you whispered, voice hurting from the screams.

He sighed. 'I'm sorry, i'm so sorry. We-we thought you weren't going to make it, you'd lost so much blood.'

In spite of the pain in your shoulders, you made a shift, turning from him as he ranted on about your condition.

'y/n... sister, please,' he said. He'd never called you sister before. He'd always been content to treat you just like you worked for him.

'Leave me alone.' you couldn't bare to look at him, couldn't bare to face him. The shadows at your hand grew heavier, as if more were piling on. You stretched your fingers away from them, trying to get them off you.

'Are you in any pain?' asked Rhys.

'Get out,' you mumbled.

The end of your bed dipped where Rhys settled, hand splayed on the covers, begging for your hand. 'y/n.'

'Get out!' you snapped, body tense and straining. You felt your wounds open up, blood wetting the bandage around you. But you didn't care. You'd happily bleed if you couldn't fly. A part of you, sick part of you wanted to be left there. It would be better than false sympathy.

Be better than your mate being disgusted.

'Get out!' you yelled again, voice tearing through an aching throat.

'I just want to help you! please, let me help you!' said Rhys, standing from your bed and walking around, trying to face you.

'I don't want your help!' you screamed. You reached for the closest thing you could, a jug of water and chucked it toward him. You aim was terrible, marred with pain and exhaustion. 'Get out!'

Though hesitant, Rhysand slowly started walking back to your door. He did it all looking at you, his hands out to show he wasn't gonna hurt you, but you didn't care. You went for the glasses next and chucked them but they landed against the door which he disappeared through.

Before it slid close you caught sight of Cassian , Mor and Azriel. All crowded, all waiting to see you.

You'd be happy if you never let them see you again.

'Can we see her?' you hear Mor ask.

'Give her time,' said Rhys.

The shadows at your hand grew heavier, darker, tighter.

'Go away!' you yelled at them. To anyone else, you probably looked crazy, screaming to darkness. But the shadows understood. They departed, slithering away and under the crack of your door where you could see the shadows of feet.

Tumbling from bed, you stumbled over and locked the door, leaning on it to and catching your breath. Your nightgown was starting to get sticky with blood all over again. When you closed your eyes, you pictured the cell, the rough hands holding you down, the chain keeping you up.

And the pain, it all washed over you. The hacking at your back, the sting of a slap. It hit you like a tone of bricks as you slid to the floor.

There was a knock, rattling the door.

'y/n,' Cassian. 'Please let us in.'

Us. You felt him on the other side. Your mate, his presence lingering. His shadows under the door, wanting to come in but keeping their distance.

He didn't know. It hadn't snapped for him, you could tell. It was one tug on your end, a chord in your heart. At least he couldn't feel what you did. At least you could shoulder it alone.

'Please.' his voice was almost your un-doing. He sounded so sad, so desperate. It hurt you just to think you were hurting him.

Tears streamed down your face as your curled your fingers into a tight fist. You assumed Mor had left with Rhys, leaving you there with the males.

Cass was always like a brother to you. Granted- a brother you had slept with once or twice- but he was your best friend. You'd always been close to him. But you'd always been good, a happy person.

You couldn't be that for them now, perhaps ever again.

It lasted like that for hours. Cassian and Az begging to come in, you curling into a ball with tears down your cheeks and blood down your back.

Eventually, they gave up. You couldn't hear them anymore and the shadows of their boots had disappeared.

Except Azriel's shadows that still lingered under your door. Maybe he'd ordered them to be there while they left you.

Eventually, you managed to find your footing on shaking legs. Your room was large, one of the largest. It was just as much a mess as it was when you'd left for you mission, clothes thrown over the place, books propped open on the pages you'd left them on. Everything was the same but could never be again.

It took you longer than you'd care to admit to get to your windows and throw the curtains close. Candles light at your request, the house looking after you as it had since you were a child.

You caught sight of yourself in the full length mirror. It seemed smaller, everything in the room felt too large and you too small, as if you were being swallowed by the expanse of it.

Your frame was small in the mirror, your hair disarrayed. Your eyes were red and shutting of their own accord from the tears that had drained you. The starving in the cells had made you look weak, made you feel weak.

And your back. There was no more looming black figures there, no more fluttering. There was just nothing. In spite of the ache as you lifted your arm, you felt around your back, feeling the hitch there, the lump from where they'd been torn from you.

You cry. You sob. You scream.

The scars were long and the nightdress was sticking to you by the blood you'd shed. All you could do, was hold yourself up as your body wracked with tears.

A breeze came from your windows, shadows tugging at the curtains.

You felt him before you saw him. You wanted to tell him to leave you but you couldn't talk without chocking. Without feeling like you couldn't breath.

Azriel had you in your arms before your knees could hit the ground. He fell with you, softening your body on the floor. His arms held you into his chest, his legs caging you into his body. His head rested on yours as he held you. He didn't try to talk, he didn't try to help. It was just him, you and his shadows.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Azriel remembered dozing off with you, his head on yours. His arms holding you into him, as if it was up to him to keep the sadness away and take it for you.

Afterall, you were his best friend. He should have been there for you, and he'd failed terribly by letting you get hurt and your wings stolen from you. He could hate himself every day for it, for letting you down. But it would never amount to what you felt for yourself and that killed him.

He could see it in the way you cried, in the way you were already keeping everyone out. He'd rather die than let you go through all the pain alone.

When his hands had been scarred by his brothers, you'd help heal him, tell him about everything he still was and all the power he still held in his hands. In the worst days, when he didn't let anyone touch him, he let you.

It was always you.

Azriel wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, or how deep. He was sure he was still with you, still in your bed.

His shadows crept up on him, engulfing him slowly and whispering to him. Your name, just your name on repeat. It was enough to lull him back into sleep, to keep him calm.

Gone. Missing. y'n. Roof.

He shot up and ran fastest than he ever had in his life. It was as if he'd never been asleep but had been fighting a battle with the way he raced over.

He burst through the doors, the cold hight air hitting him.

You stood facing the stars, your bloody back to him. It wasn't as much blood as when he'd found you, but it was still enough to put a lump in his throat.

Immediately his shadows fell to you, cascading down your body and wrapping around your waist. There was a breeze in the air, pushing your hair back and exposing more signs of the pain and torture you must have gone through.

'I'm not gonna jump, if that's what you're thinking,' you said. You didn't even have to turn to him. The shadows probably told you enough.

'Why are you up here?' he asked, walking to you slowly and with careful steps. As if every step closer could you push you away from him.

'I'll never feel the win properly again,' you answered.

Azriel gulped down his own pain. You’d never sounded so small. ‘Can you get away from the ledge?’

'I'm not on the ledge.'

'You're too close for my liking.'

'Leave if you don't like it.'

'Don't do this,' he said.

'Do what?' you asked, folding your arms over your chest. You were cold, out in the hight but you wanted to see the stars. Needed to see them.

'Make me leave. Make everyone leave you. I know that's what you're doing. It's what you do every time,' you could feel him dawning closer. His shadows were all around you, almost drowning you.

‘Every time,’ you scoff, stepping down and turning on him. ‘It’s not every day you lose your wings Azriel! But don’t let me stop you from leaving, flap them and go!’ You yelled, unable to stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. You didn’t want to hurt him, you just wanted to be alone.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

'You jump and I’ll catch you,' he said. He was a step away, he could just reach out and touch, just a gentle caress. 'I swear it, whatever you do, I’ll follow. I’m not letting you get away.’

He watched your back shudder as he reached out, brushing knuckles against your shoulder blade. He heard your sharp inhale follow.

'Don’t think I won’t follow, y/n.'

Finally, you turned around in his shadows. You couldn’t meet his eyes but at least you could face his chest.

His hands were gentle on your shoulder as he rubbed it gently. 'Can I get Madja to clean you up?' He asked.

You nodded as he led you away. You truly did not deserve your mate.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Fifty-two years later...

When Amarantha had trapped the high lords of Prythian under the mountain, it hadn't be a conscious choice to follow your half-brother down. How Amarantha had allowed it, you weren't sure, but perhaps she wanted to use you just like her brother, or she thought it would bring more pain for him to see you suffer under there too.

You and Rhysand had barley spoke the last two years.

It had took you almost two months to heal fully enough to leave your room, another few months to face your family again. But even then, everyone knew something had changed in you. You didn't laugh as loud or smile as wide.

Rhysand was careful to ever let you out on a mission. Mor tried to take you out every night. Cassian spent all day every day with you and Azriel- he'd healed you better than any nurse.

Still, you had not told him he was your mate.

Still, you thought he wouldn't want it.

Still, you cared for your brother enough to not want him to go alone.

But being under the mountain, you could avoid your mate. At a painful price.

Until her. Rhys's mate. He hadn't shut up about her since he first met her, much to your dismay as you had to sit around and listen- having absolutely nothing better to do. And it only got worse when she turned up under the mountain. She was declaring her love for Tamlin- again, annoying your brother, and throwing Lucien into danger- which rather angered you. You had nothing against the ginger.

Rhysand had once sent you to find the girl to summon her as part of a bargain he'd made. He didn't want to go, he didn't want to look too forceful. You'd been lucky enough to find the two tangled up in each other against a cold wall, clothes ripped and hips moving together.

'Well, well well,' you'd intterupted.

Tamlin all but growled at you, but feyre was looking over you- evidently confused. She had no idea who you were. You, in your skimpy outfit that Amarantha kept you in (they all dipped low at your back, showing off your scars) and your eyes that were like a night sky.

'Amarantha's looking for her pet and Rhysand is looking for his. Honestly, i'd be a bit more worried if I were you. You know, considering Lucien still has an eye to lose.'

The two parted with your words as you sent Tamlin back to his master, the high lord glaring at you as you went. While Feyre tried to fix herself.

'Rhysand is over there, better not keep him waiting.' That was the first time you met her, having no idea how much trouble she'd be worth. The family that she'd become.

But Rhysand made sure you knew it all. From when the bond snapped in him and he'd stumbled. He ranted and ranted as they climbed out.

If only you were so talkative about Azriel. If only you could talk about him with your brother. But you'd tried not to painfully think about him. Climbing out of the mountain. It was all you could think of.

Maybe he'd have forgotten you? it had been fifty years. He'd probably realised how happy he could be without having to take care of you.

Rhys was allowed out of the mountain, he'd felt the breeze in his hair but you hadn't in fifty long years. You stood there a moment, bathing in the warmth as everyone left, as everyone ran off for their families and courts and the war that was inevitable. Eventually, Rhys offered you his arm. 'Shall we go home?'

He winnowed you there, on the balcony of your home. In a cloud of black smoke, the two of you appeared.

He went first, slipping through the doors slowly- like it could all be taken from them any minute.

You were hesitant, taking a moment to glance at the landscape behind you. It hadn't changed, not at all. The mountains were still there, everyone was still alive. Your home. In the last years it hadn't felt like home, but how could anywhere ever feel so close in your heart.

When you could find your feat again, you managed to slip through the doors. You were suddenly aware of how little clothing you were wearing, just enough to cover your chest and run down your legs. A chill settled down your back, your scars would be on show. What a way to great them all after fifty years.

Mor had her arms around Rhys's shoulders, crying into his shoulder.

Behind them you caught Amren, with something like tears in her eyes. You were just about to tease her before a body barrelled into yours in a blur of red syphons and your feet were lifted from the ground.

'Cassian.'

His arms tightened around you. You shoulder started to dampen with tears, his tears. The last time you'd seen him cry around you was when he'd seen a dog with only three legs. 'I'm keeping you on a leash from now on, stupid idiot.'

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, a smile gracing your lips. 'Is that a promise?'

He held you longer, tighter, not daring to let you go but at least settling you on the ground. He sighed against your head, controlling himself. 'He's missed you, you know,' he said. He was the only one you'd told, about your mate. 'Now that you're back, tell him. He deserves to know.'

Cassian slowly pulled away, holding you at arms length and smiling at you. He kissed your cheeks and then your forehead before parting to Rhysand.

Mor approached you next, slapping you in the arm.

'Ow!'

'Why would you follow him?' she snapped.

You blinked at her before she took you by the arm she'd slapped and embraced you, like a sister would. You dared not looking over her shoulder to find the one who hadn't come to you. Maybe Cass had got it wrong...

Mor pulled away, wiping at her eyes.

Azriel was as beautiful as the day you left him. His hair was the same length, he was the same height. He was just as you left him. It was hard to tell fifty years had passed on him.

And inside of you, tugging in your soul and heart you felt the familiar string of gold throbbing. But you still didn't feel that tug. You'd hoped it would have faded from you after half a year separated. Or at least have snapped for him. But no such relief.

He approached you, slowly. As if he was scared of scaring you away. But you just stood there.

His arms were delicate and soft around you as he brought you into his chest. He still smelled the same, cedar wood and shadows. Shadows that wrapped around you, shielding you from the rest of the room. They caressed you, head to two.

You held onto each other for what could have been another fifty years, but this time, it wasn't so painful.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Although nobody wanted to part after yours and Rhysand's return, you were exhausted. A trip to Rita's could wait another night or two. The only thing you wanted to do was hide in your room.

Strangely, your room looked lived in. As if somebody had moved in since you'd left. A moment of anger replaced grief. Had they brought someone else and given them your room? but then you smelt it, Az.

Lying in bed that night, exhausted, you couldn't find sleep. You closed your eyes and pictured Amarantha. You'd never been afraid of her, you weren't afraid of anything. But you re-played the horrors. Watching servants beat Feyre, watching Amarantha use your brother and on the occasion, even you. How she flaunted. How the most powerful lords were weak.

Under your door, shadows seeped in, rushing across the room to you. You smiled, watching your hand disappear in their darkness.

'Azriel?' you called.

There was shifting on the other side of the door before he slipped in, clicking it shut behind him.

You sat up in bed, shadows moving with you. 'Couldn't sleep?'

He wondered in, looking around your room. 'Sleeping's been... hard.'

You rolled over, opening the blanket and nodding your head. You couldn't think about the bond, not yet. Not while he looked so.... ruined. Beautiful- the most beautiful person in the world, but sad. As he climbed in next to you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes, his shoulders slumped and his wings too.

His eyes scanned over you. You were in a thin and silk night dress that only brushed your knees, but the way he looked at you, mother you could've been naked. 'Fifty years,' his voice sounded barley controlled. 'Fifty years. You followed your brother down for fifty years? Why would you do that?'

You gulp. 'I would've done it for any of you. Except maybe Amren, she'd probably enjoy the peace for fifty years.'

You go to brush your hair back but Azriel seizes your wrist. He was angry. That's why his voice was rough and his chest rising and falling with barley controlled emotions. Could he feel it? your nerves, your lying?

'You left. You should've stayed, y/n, you know Rhysand didn't want you under there with him,' he said. 'For fifty years I haven't been able to sleep through a night thinking about the pain you must have been going through. After I swore to keep you safe, after I promised to catch you every time!'

'You couldn't have stopped me. You didn't promise, Az.'

His grip grew tighter. 'It went without saying.'

You looked around his eyes, seeing the pain and grief there also. Slowly, you brought your other hand up. He flinched as you took his cheek but eventually settled as your thumb ran over his cheekbone. 'I won't leave again, ok? I promise.'

He gulped, letting go of your wrist and looking down. 'I slept here,' he mumbled, but just loud enough to hear you. 'I couldn't sleep in my room. This was the only place I could rest.'

Your heart stuttered. Your hand dropped from his cheek. This man was your mate. Your mate. Your only love, whether or not the cauldron deemed it.

Azriel took your hesitation. 'I-i'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that. I've probably ruined your one place of peace-'

'Stay,' you said, before you could think of what you were asking. 'Sleeping wasn't exactly easy under the mountain either. I just trust I won't have to put a wall of cushions between us.' as if you wanted that. As if you haven't thought about his calloused hands all over you.

Azriel smiled and stayed the night.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The third time he almost lost you, broke him...

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

#acotar #azriel #cassian #rhysand #rhys acotar #feyre archeron #tamlin #lucien vanserra #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #cassian x reader #books and reading #booktok #angst #azriel x cassian x reader

[luveline]

hiii jade! can you write something for spencer x badass!reader who despite being sick af, still shows up to work? ur writing always makes my day!! :)

hi, tysm for requesting my love ♡ fem

"What's up with you?" Morgan asks. 

You don't have the energy to tell him to mind his business. "Nothing, I'm fine. What's up with you?" 

"Sorry, are you asking me how I am?" 

Morgan seems to think that you don't like him. It makes sense, in a way, because you've never been outwardly affectionate to him or even friendly, and he's constantly teasing you. But the reason you didn't like him or anyone on the team when you first joined beyond civil professionalism was because of how they treated Spencer. 

You're older now, you've learned that they love him. But they don't appreciate him as much as they should, and so you resolve to appreciate them at a similar level. Spencer gets every ounce of love you have to give, and Morgan gets a smidge when he deserves it. 

"Earth to Y/N. You sick?" Morgan asks. 

You rub the space between your brows. "Sick of stupid questions, sure." 

"Feisty. Where's Reid? Need me to give him a talk about being a better boyfriend?" 

"He's not my boyfriend." 

"He's your something." Morgan's grin softens into a more serious expression, and for a few seconds, he takes you in. You hate being looked at with concern, standing as he asks, "Seriously, are you okay?" 

"I'm okay, Morgan, thank you." 

You speed walk away from the desk to the kitchenette on unsteady footing, where Spencer stands like the light at the end of a dark tunnel making a cup of tea. He bobs the tea bag up and down slowly, his eyebrows pinched together, as though this cup of tea is the most important thing in the world to get right. Your chest aches as you move, your breath noticeably shallow. Spencer must hear you, lifting his arm to gesture for you to come closer. 

"Hey," he says. He usually speaks to you softly but this is a new level of gentleness. It goes without saying that if he were anybody else, his tone would drive you up the wall with annoyance, but he's Spencer. It must be the sugary brown of his eyes and the puppy dog essence to his smile, eager to please, that makes his concern a welcome one. "You okay? Come here." 

You stand obediently at his side. 

"You okay?" he asks again. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why does everybody keep asking me that?" you mumble, eyeing his cup of tea longingly. Your throat is sandpaper. 

Spencer slides it toward you without comment. "Because you look sick. Not that you look bad, you don't, you always look nice, but your eyes are glassy, and you look a little clammy." He turns sideways. "You want your tea?" 

"It's for me?" 

"Yeah, it's for you. I put honey in it. I don't know if you like honey…" 

You take the mug and drink it. Honey or not, you're gonna drink every sip, and not just because your throat is deteriorating rapidly. Spencer could make you a cup of hot dish water and you'd pinch your nose to knock it back. 

"Thank you," you say in relief. 

"Sure. Wanna go sit down?" 

"I don't need to sit down." 

"I'm not saying you do. I just," —Spencer laughs, his hand on your shoulder— "I need you to peer assess my last witness account file. You do it quicker than Morgan does." 

"Oh, okay. Yeah, let's go do it." 

Spencer shepherds you to his desk. Morgan peers not so subtly over the partition as you sit in Spencer's chair and roll into the front of his desk, reaching for a pen from his pen pot. You drink blind sips of tea between lines, reading over his file slowly. Your eyes grow heavier as the tea warms your chest, and Spencer's hand falls to your shoulder again. 

"You should go home," he says quietly. He tricked you into sitting down, that's obvious now. 

"I'm okay." 

"You need to rest when you're sick or you'll only get worse," he says, his breath fanning against the short hairs by your ear. 

You close your eyes at the sensation. "I can't go home."

"Why not?" 

"Because I…" You list off. You're sure there was something to say, something important, but Spencer's presence stands behind you and your body must realise that if you want safety to pass out, this will be the place. 

"Y/N," he says sympathetically. 

"Can't drive," you mumble. 

"I'll get you home, don't worry. You just sit here for a second while I sort it out, okay? Don't get up." He rubs down your arm roughly. For once, you get a sense of total confidence from him. You trust that he's gonna get you home in one piece. "Morgan, can you watch her?" 

"'M not a kid," you say. 

"Course not. I'm still gonna look after you, though," Spencer says. 

He takes you home in a borrowed work SUV. You're not sick enough to need carrying, but the moment he sits you down on the couch you fall into a deep, sweaty sleep. When you wake a little later, it's to three extremely important things; the first, a bowl of chicken soup with fresh made croutons; the second, Spencer, his top button undone and smiling as he squeezes your lax hand; and third, your saviour, a jumbo box of Tylenol, sleep aid and decongestants included. You remind yourself to kiss Spencer's cheek when you aren't totally dying. 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[teenytinyjimin]

i miss you, i’m sorry (j. jungkook)

nothing happened in the way i wanted

every corner of this house is haunted

and i know you said that we’re not talking

but i miss you, i’m sorry.

summary: the first time seeing each other after the breakup is always the hardest. but seeing each other when you're still in love? an absolute nightmare

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2k

tags: angst, smoker!jk, brokenhearted!jk, equally as brokenhearted!reader, why did they even break up in the first place?, featuring reader’s bestfriend!jimin, also jimin is sexually ambiguous let's keep it that way please

warnings: none, alcohol/nic use but nothing too intense, kinda sad but it's a happy ending i promise

author’s note: idk why i keep making my fic names and stuff inspired by songs, i guess it just helps me beat writers block.

also i wrote this in second person, lmk if you guys prefer that over third. i personally find third person fics easier to write, but i'm sure second person is easier to read for some of you. enjoy my angels!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Bars weren't really your thing.

If you were going to be honest, they were miles better than nightclubs, but still not your thing. It was something about the air that just rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was all the creepy old men that turned you off of them, or just the fact that there's not much to do besides sit, drink, sit some more, maybe play some pool and... sit.

Jimin, on the other hand, loved bars. He loved being able to sit there, look pretty, and watch as absolutely anyone and everyone flocked over to him to start a conversation. It admittedly fueled his ego, and he loved the feeling of being the center of attention. However, he didn't love being at bars alone. Being so drop-dead gorgeous meant that about twenty times the amount of creeps bothered him than the average bar patron. Many of them figured that a pretty boy like him was sitting there waiting to be swooped up by a sugar daddy. Let's get one thing straight – that wasn't him. He had plenty of money. He just wanted to have a little conversation, give a little kiss here and there maybe, and dip at the end of the night with his bar companion by his side.

Unfortunately for you, that bar companion was usually you. It was certainly a compliment for Jimin to want to bring you along with him instead of any of his other gazillions of friends and other social connections, but it was quite exhausting for you to be in a bar pretty much every day of every weekend. He liked the attention, but you didn't. If it were an empty room with nothing but you and a bottle of rum, you'd have a blast. But what bar in Itaewon was going to be like that?

Alas, here you were, sat at the end of a bar with your friend sitting next to you. Something about the light in the building made him look extra beautiful tonight, his skin shimmering like the most precious of diamonds and his eyes deep and full of allure. At the moment he was making small talk with a lady on the other side of him, one who was definitely at least twenty years his senior but didn't look a day past thirty. Sighing, you drop your head down to look at your drink, a half-full martini glass that held a rather disappointing cosmopolitan (you weren't a vodka fan anyway, it wasn't the bartender's fault).

You wanted to be home. That was the only place you ever wanted to be these days. At home, cuddling your darling kitty in bed, and sleeping your days away. Maybe a year ago you would have loved being out and about, but now it feels more like a burden than a fun activity. And you know that Jimin doesn't mean any harm in doing what he does, but seeing him talk with so many people over the course of the night and being so happy is almost a bit gut-wrenching for you because you can't be as happy as him.

You began to feel the blood rush to your ears and your face get warm. Something was wrong, you could sense it. Everyone has those gut instincts when something isn't quite right, and this wasn't just an instinct, it was like a neon sign. A neon sign that read DANGER. Perhaps it was just you feeling rather anxious and overwhelmed, but either way you were craving the comfort of your home.

"Hey, 'Minnie, can we-" Just as you turned to Jimin to softly ask him if you could go home or at the very least switch bars, you felt a presence behind you. It wasn't just an I'm here to order a drink presence, but rather an I'm here for you one. Realizing that Jimin wasn't even listening anyway, you froze, waiting to see what would happen. And that's when you heard a familiar voice that you thought you'd never hear again.

"Hey."

You didn't want to turn around. You tried to stay as still as a statuette for as long as possible, however the more you thought about the man behind you the more you felt the urge to turn around and take a bite of the forbidden fruit. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned until you were face-to-face with your ex, Jungkook.

"Want to talk outside?" Not yet looking at him directly, you hesitantly nodded before quickly looking back to Jimin and then standing up. You left your purse there, figuring that your friend would grab it if he changed locations, and began trailing after the tall tattooed figure that navigated his way toward the door.

As the two of you stepped out into the cool autumn air, you crossed your arms and leaned against the building. Your heart was between your ears at this point, buzzing at what felt like 200 beats a minute. It was stupid for you to have even left Jimin's side, you thought, because now you were alone with your ex of all people and God knows what this boy has up his sleeve.

"You look good," Jungkook said gently as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and placed one between his lips. "And I know what you're going to say, you're so full of it Kook, but I mean it."

"Since when have you started smoking?" You asked, ignoring his previous two statements and gesturing toward the pack in his hand. He shrugged. "Couple weeks after I last saw you maybe? Not a big deal."

"You know that stuff's bad for you."

"I don't think sitting here third-wheeling with Jimin and his beau of the night is any better."

"You don't know Jimin, don't act like you do," You said, completely taken aback and offended by the words coming out of his mouth. "And I'm having a good time, thank you very much."

"Doesn't seem like it. Weren't you about to ask him if you guys could leave?"

"I was having- What?- Is there a reason you asked to talk to me out here?" You were struggling to form a complete sentence. This man always knew how to leave you speechless, but now it was just irritating. You watched as Jungkook leaned back onto the building with you and shook his head, giving you a toothy grin before lighting the cigarette in his mouth. "Nah. Just figured you'd have more fun out here talking to me and getting a break from it all."

"You know he's waiting for me, right? I should go back inside." You stand back up straight and begin walking back into the bar, however you feel a warm hand wrap gently around your wrist and tug you back. "Hey hey hey," Jungkook called. "He'll survive a few minutes without you. Just chill with me. I'm not asking you for anything, just a second of your time."

You turned to face your ex-lover, your eyes finally meeting his for the first time that night. Even after all this time of being apart, those beautiful doe eyes still yearned for you, and yours for him. With a shaky sigh, you brush his hand away and return to where you were standing. "Exes don't hang out like this, Jungkook."

"Woah, you're pulling out the full government name on me now?" The boy teased, puffing a cloud of smoke from his mouth. "Should I be offended?"

"I'm setting boundaries," You crossed your arms and kicked at the ground beneath you. "Nicknames are for friends or more than friends, which we aren't."

"We aren't strangers either though."

"That doesn't matter. Not friends."

"Alright, fine," Giving up, Jungkook looked down at his hand and flexed it awkwardly. "Just trying to be friendly."

"Friendly?!" You said frantically, finally having enough of his antics. "You don't need to be friendly. We broke up and that's the end of it. Exes aren't friends. They go their separate ways and when they see each other again – if they see each other – they ignore each other. I don't get why you're doing this psychological warfare bullshit on me."

"Exes can be friends," He breathed out in protest. "Can you even tell me why we broke up in the first place?"

You remained silent. The truth was that you didn't know why you broke up either. It had been almost a year since the whole ordeal went down, and you were still confused more than anything else, even more than you were hurt. All you can remember is that you guys went through some bullshit ‘mutual breakup’ that apparently neither of you wanted in the first place. The only reason you even agreed to it is because somewhere within you, you felt like perhaps you weren’t deserving of such a wonderful relationship. And the only reason Jungkook agreed to it is because he thought that it’s what you wanted.

"No, seriously. What went wrong? What did I do? I just want some closure..." His voice became increasingly softer as he kept speaking, which only meant one thing. You stared at the ground intensely, refusing to look up and see his teary eyes.

You felt his hand gently wrap around yours and tug on it as a plea for your attention. Jungkook was your weakness, the only person you'd willingly do anything for, and he really loved to take advantage of that without even realizing he was.

You peered up at him hesitantly, worried that you'd find yourself in tears the second you saw the ones pouring from his eyes. Sure enough, when the eye contact began, you were driving yourself forward into his strong arms and dampening his shirt with your tears.

Jungkook's embrace felt the same as it did the last time you felt it. It was still so warm, so inviting, so loving. Never once did you feel unsafe in his arms and this moment was not an exception. As you sobbed into his shirt you felt his hand move from around your waist to the top of your head, stroking your hair gently.

The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours, simply letting all emotion out while enjoying the company of one another. While Jungkook has been exceptionally transparent in expressing the fact that he's heartbroken about the situation between the two of you, it's safe to say that you feel equally as devastated. This man was once the love of your life and the only one you ever needed, but now everything about him except for his embrace feels foreign. This was someone you once saw yourself building a life with, but now it's shattering to think that he has a life after you.

You pulled away after a while, refusing to make eye contact as you wiped the tears from your eyes. This all felt entirely pointless. It was obvious that nothing went wrong in the relationship yet here you were, no longer in one. You couldn't begin to imagine what Jungkook had been going through since you guys broke up considering the fact that for you, your entire world turned upside down.

"I'm sorry," You managed to choke out before you felt Jungkook's hand gently guide your face up to look at his. You watched him stare at you for a moment, taking in your features, before his lips began to curl into a soft smile. "Mmm. Yeah. You're way too pretty to let slip through my fingers."

Feeling your face turn hot as a blush crept to your cheeks, you let out a soft giggle before you were cut off by a familiar pair of lips meeting yours.

"JUNGKOOK?" You heard a voice call out. The two of you pulled apart, eyes wide. Shit. You forgot about Jimin.

#teenytinyjimin #bangtan #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fanfiction #bts fic #angst #bts jungkook #bts jk #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook angst #jk angst #jungkook x reader #jk x reader #fanfic #jk fanfic

[halucynator]

False Fronts

part 1 of 4

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Warnings: fake dating, arguing, not proof read and my writing 😔

Summary: Being asked to fake date someone to get a petty ex off their back is the worst possible way of being friend-zoned. You, however, were willing to take any chances to get as close as you could to Theodore Nott.

there will most definitely be a part 2

i will absolutely credit @berryzxx for helping me and giving me ideas for this haha

sorry if anyone's name is Jess ily i swear mwah <;33

he's such a cutie tehe

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4: fluff angst

You were going about your usual business, wandering the empty corridors of Hogwarts. The prospect of Defense Against the Dark Arts class, particularly with Umbridge as the professor, filled you with dread. Determined to delay your arrival as much as possible, you lingered, reluctant to head to your lesson.

As you strolled through the corridors, distant murmurs reached your ears. Tracing their origin, the faint echoes evolved into a heated dispute—a boy and a girl embroiled in a passionate disagreement. Step by step, you closed the distance until their fervent voices became distinct and clear.

"Look, Jess, it's over. O-V-E-R." You could hear the boy say to someone who you could only assume was called Jess.

"But I don't want it to be over! I still love you! Please, I'm sorry!" The girl, presumably Jess, begged.

"Well, you should've thought of that before you went and cheated on me." His response cut through the air, chilling in its icy tone, sending unwelcome shivers down your spine. Whoever he was, his disdain for Jess was palpable. His voice was unmistakable, you having heard it all your life. You knew who it was.

He sauntered off, leaving both Jess and you dumbfounded. Peeking around the corner to catch a glimpse of the boy, you inadvertently crashed into the very person—Theodore Nott—you were trying to observe.

As you collided with Theodore Nott, his demeanor shifted from the tense confrontation to one of mild surprise, his dark eyes locking with yours in an unexpected encounter. You stumbled back a step, catching your breath as you met his gaze, both of you momentarily stunned by the abrupt intersection.

"Y/N," Theodore uttered your name, a flicker of recognition dancing across his features before settling into a composed mask. "Sorry about that. Didn't see you there."

Your mind raced, trying to process the scene you'd just witnessed. His confrontation with Jess seemed far more serious than a typical teenage quarrel. Sensing your curiosity, Theodore's expression shifted a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

"Listen," he started, his voice lowering to a hushed tone as if sharing a secret. "I need a favor, and I think you might be the perfect solution."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, unsure where this conversation was heading. Theodore hesitated for a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing.

"Jess won't leave me alone. She's been causing a scene ever since things ended between us. I need... I need someone to help me out, to pretend to be with me, just to get her off my back. It's purely for appearances, nothing more."

His request hung in the air, unexpected and oddly intriguing. Theodore Nott, asking for your assistance in a situation as serious as this. You weighed his words, contemplating the implications of what he proposed, your mind swirling with questions about why he'd chosen you for such a peculiar task.

"Please. I'll ask nothing more of you. Just some PDA. Slight touches, whatever you're comfortable with."

The allure of being close to him warred with the fear of playing a role in a situation that could easily spin out of control. Yet, despite the inner turmoil, a glimmer of hope danced in your chest—an opportunity to be near Theodore, even if it was only as part of a facade.

You'd been friends with Theo for what felt like forever. He trusted you, and that meant a lot. Sure, there was that fear of being stuck in the friend zone, but when you thought about it, the chance to help him seemed more important. He wanted this, and he was your friend. So, yeah, you wanted to be there for him.

After a moment's hesitation, you gathered your resolve and nodded in agreement, your voice surprisingly steady despite the fury of emotions raging within you. "Alright, Theodore. I'll help you out."

A flicker of relief crossed Theodore's face, a barely perceptible shift in his expression that hinted at gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N. I owe you one."

As the weight of your decision settled in, you couldn't help but wonder about the implications of what you'd just agreed to. Theodore's proposal was both thrilling and nerve-wracking, and the realization that you were about to embark on a fake relationship with someone you genuinely cared for made your heart race with both anticipation and anxiety.

Theodore glanced around, as if to ensure no one else was nearby, before leaning in closer. "Let's meet later today and discuss how we're going to pull this off, alright? Preferably somewhere private."

Nodding in agreement, your mind raced with a million questions, but you managed to offer a reassuring smile. "Sure, Theodore. I'll be there."

As he walked away, you were left standing there, your mind spinning. The whole idea was thrilling, but it also felt like stepping onto a rollercoaster without knowing the twists and turns ahead. For now, all you could do was wait and meet up with Theodore and realise the depths of the situation you just put yourself into.

Either way, this fake dating thing just became your reality, and you had no clue where it would lead.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

hello, hi! read part 2 here :))

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #theodore nott #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott x reader #theo nott fic #theo nott #theodore nott x you #slytherin boys #theodore nott fic #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott x y/n #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theo nott fluff #fake dating #theodore nott fake dating #theodore nott angst #lorenzo zurzolo #niccolo govender #baby #daddy uh i mean theodore

[bizbat]

can you PLEASE write jason coming to you instead of anyone else. like i need that sooo bad please :)))

p.s i love your writing soo much. youre so talented, i am constantly giggling as i read

Always You . . .

🕸️Spiderverse Masterlist🕸️

🐼JJK Masterlist🐼

~ Jason Todd x Reader

~ Reader's appearance is not described

~ Wc: 1.086 K

~ This took forever omg, but yesterday I got food poisoning so I finally got some time to write this. Not my proudest work but wtv.

~ You can find more of my works here.

Above all else, he'll always come to you.

Contrary to popular belief, Jason Todd can be gentle. You've seen it, in the way he slowly flips through whatever book he's reading so you can read it over his shoulder, or how his fingers softly caress your thigh when you're seated beside him as if you're made of glass, or in the warm way he smiles whenever Damian says something the reminds him he's a child.

He's gentle now too, his head resting in your lap, his shirt torn and soaked in what's now dried blood. You can barely keep your eyes open, but you promised you'd watch over him while he slept, just in case something went wrong and he choked on his own blood or vomit.

You had that same nausea when he first came to your apartment at five in the morning, the bile rising in your throat at the smell of metal and the sight of blood gushing out of his gaping-

Just remembering is enough to keep you awake.

It . . . hurts, for many reasons, knowing that he puts his own life in danger for people he doesn't even know. You don't know why he does it, all you know is that for the next week and a half, he'll take a break to let his stitches heal at least a little bit. It's never enough, though. He'll crawl back to you in a few weeks, a sheepish smile on his face and his stitches popped open.

You'll roll your eyes but you always fix them for him. It's become a routine. Not one you're exactly fond of, but a routine nonetheless. It gives you something to look forward to. Sometimes it doesn't feel fair. The fact that he's always on the brink of death when you see him, that he's always covered in scars and wounds and gashes, and above all that, the fact that he only seems to come to you to sew a bullet hole shut or wrap a broken arm.

It does get exhausting, but who are you to complain. At least he trusts you, that's what you tell yourself. He comes to you because you're the only person he lets get that close to him these days, because you're the only person who won't chew his ear off. All things you've told yourself. He comes to you because maybe, possibly, potentially, somewhere deep deep inside, he loves you. That's your favorite excuse.

"You're really pretty, have I ever told you that?" You're so deep in thought you don't even realize those deep cerulean blue eyes are now studying your contemplative expression. When you calm your beating heart you turn your gaze back to his. "I thought you were sleeping?" "I was," He wraps his arm back around your waist, holding himself closer to you. "But you were tuggin' on my hair."

You hadn't even realized you'd been running your fingers through his hair until he pointed it out, though at some point in your thoughts it seems your hands had begun twisting around the raven locs. Upon said realization you immediately pull your hand away, only for him to reach out and pull it right back. "I didn't mind it that much doll." His smirk is enough to clear your mind.

He slowly rises from his position, moving to sit beside you, resting most of his weight on your shoulder with a groan. His hand reaches to his side, where a particularly nasty gash resided, thankfully sewn shut by you. Once the pain subsides he moves his hand to check your handy work. "Not bad, not bad at all." He turns that stupid smile back to you and it fries your brain. "Getting better and better every time."

It does make you smile. You weren't always so good at fixing him up. He'd come in almost every night needing you to patch him back up. It took awhile for you to be able to get him back in shape so fast. "Jay," A long while, actually. "I . . . I've been wondering?" You slowly proposition him. "Yeah? About what?" He is genuinely curious, and he knows that look on your face. He sits up, taking his weight off of you and resting against the arm of the couch.

"Just-nevermind, actually. It's stupid." You hold your hands in your lap. "It's not." He hates when you do that. When you shut yourself down before he even gets a chance to answer. "Ask me, I won't be mad." He leans in closer, his hand on your knee, and he strokes it how he always does. It takes a second to gain back your confidence. "Why-why do you always come to me when you're hurt? I just mean wouldn't it be better to go to Bruce, or Alfred, or I don't know, a doctor?"

The only thing worse than his smile is his laugh. Like an icy breeze on a hot summer's day, or a dark cold wave crashing down on a yellow beach. It warms your heart and makes you feel stupid for asking in the first place, all at the same time. "Why would I go to any of them? I like you." He likes you!!! You were right!!! "Because I'm not a professional. I can barely give you stitches, I don't know what I'd do if you were-if you," The quiver in your voice breaks his heart.

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. "You don't need to worry about that. It's never gonna happen," He grabs your chin between his forefinger and his thumb and brings your gaze to his. "You take care of me, too much for me to be risky about that." You think you believe him, especially when he presses a kiss to your lips. Though you've tasted it a thousand times, you still wince at the taste of blood still clinging to his chapped lips.

He laughs when you grimace. "Sorry," He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He's quiet for a bit after that, silent as he holds you. Before too long he speaks again, breaking the, admittedly, uncomfortable silence. "I . . . I dunno why I always come to you. I guess I just . . . like it here. I like you." He's not looking at you when he says it, but you know he's being honest, and knowing him, he's understating.

It's enough for you, at least until next time. You relax into his body, satisfied. "I like you too Jaybird. I like you a lot."

#bizbat #dc #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood

[senseichaos]

Hey, same anon asking about yandere stuff. I'm so glad to hear!! Of course if you want to, may I please request yandere Vox with the reader? Like how they try to run from him? Perfectly fine with it being a female reader as I am one. And I don't mind how you write it. Do whatever you please! I love seeing others' interpretation of the characters 🖤 No rush!

YOU CAN'T RUN. HELL, YOU CAN'T HIDE EITHER.

thank you lovely anon! I love the concept of Yandere Vox! Hope this is good :) let me know your thoughts in another ask if you'd like! Lots of love!

Summary: Vox doesn't often fall in love often, no. Well that was until you came around- and you wanted a job with Valentino of all people? No. That would never fly with him. He'd make you work with him instead, like an intern or something? Hell, anything to make you stay near him. Anything to get him as close to you as possible.

Genres: Angst with a small amount of sexuality

NOT PROOF READ (yet)

Warnings/Tags: Yandere Vox, Insecurity, Reader is naive, manipulation, mind control, exploitation, creepy behavior, masking, contractual agreements, reader lacks hell experience, Vox is violent, Vox lacks empathy, angst, swearing, overall kinda depressing (LET ME KNOW IF MISSING ANY)

Pt 2

_______

You can't believe your eyes when you step into that tower, the pink glass adorning the outsides making your eyes shimmer. You have a job interview with Valentino today, after waiting for (probably too long) to get a job somewhere.

You see, hell worked slightly differently to earth. Where things in earth worked in a more of a 'work and make work' sort of way, Hell is more 'work, make work, and fight'

You'd managed for the past months to live in a small apartment that happened to be owned by someone who got killed in an extermination. It wasn't your plan to impersonate a sinner and squat in their home, but you have to get by somehow, right?

Well- it also wasn't your plan to be a porn star. But no where else seemed to want to take you. You're small, too weak to be taken by anyone else. People on the street told you that you were made for the screen, that your body was perfect. Some even tried to pay you copious amounts of cash just for you to suck them off. And you hate it.

At least the elevator of the building is cozy.

Vox on the other hand was having the best day of his life: or in his definition, a day where Valentino doesn't have a stupid breakdown that Vox doesn't have to solve.

He loves to watch his people as they indulge in his technology, he loves to watch everyone become obsessed with him and his media, he loves to be in control of all of these people. He'll watch every screen around him with focus, taking in their reactions as he bottle feeds them content.

Could he be with his boyfriend, Val? Yes. Does he want to? Hell no. He doesn't love Val. Plain and simple in his eyes. He has Valentino to get his business along. To make him more powerful. He'll do what he has to to be the most powerful he can be. Even if it means toying with people around him.

Val doesn't think he's capable of falling in love with anyone in this horrible underworld he inhabits. Everyone here is fucked. he is fucked. Plus, he doesn't know anyone here who he'd connect with anyway.

Or well that's what he did think until right now. There is a girl in the central elevator that looks awfully out of place, causing Vox to turn the entirety of his attention onto her. She looks like a regular old sinner, yes- but still she stands it like a sore thumb against the few people also in the central elevator. Where everyone's boring physique was her own enticing one stands. Where everyone else's two tone personalities stand her own colorful and bright one shimmer in his 2-D irises.

And then comes that odd feeling in his chest, this weird bubbling feeling of emotions that causes his eyes to tear up ever so slightly. This feeling, it's addicting. He wants to grind her up into a smoothie and drink her up, making the feeling sit there forever.

Something is wrong with him: he thinks.

With bated breath vox looked at the floor the elevator was approaching, figuring out where the girl is exactly going. There are only few reasons a sinner shows up at V tower anyway: to get a job with Valentino, or to turn yourself in if you'd wronged them. The elevator number reads '10'. She's going up to the business floor where Valentino currently is.

A sudden twist finds its way into his stomach, a horrible twist that makes his head burn with anger. Who does Val think he is? Having a girl such as her working for him. He. Couldn't let this happen, no no no no no no no. Why would he even want to exploit such a girl? She's supposed to be loves and cherished for everything she is.

The only reason she'd want to work with Val is because she has no other thing to do. He needs to offer her a job- or something to keep her from giving herself away to Valentino. Something to keep her as close to him as possible- like an intern or an assistant or anything.

Anything: Vox thinks.

Not often is Vox so reckless, not often at all. He likes to think he's decorum and well-adjusted. Likes to think he's a figure of this time. Of his time.

But right now, all he wants is this beautiful fucking girl to look at him in his eyes. Is it selfish? To want something so bad you feel like you could to horrible things to get it? Probably. But this is hell. And as an overlord of hell he can take what he wants. For once he doesn't care.

--- 666 ---

You take a step from the elevator, looking around the rather nauseating long and rounded hallway with squinted eyes. You can barely remember where you're supposed to be going anymore. You're supposed to meet Val inside one of these many, many studios. But soon enough as you start to venture through the halls on light, unsure steps you find yourself unable to read the words and numbers on each door.

Something is wrong, and you're unable to focus. There's this buzzing sound in your ears, a very faint but obvious buzzing that's causing your brain to go fuzzy. You can't feel your body anymore, it's just walking down the hallway in painful circles.

Suddenly that tether in your brain snaps with a loud crack, and your face to face with a television. You're still standing, in this long hallway, but now you're looking into the dark eyes of a TV screen. Wait- Eyes?

"Oh, Hello there sinner, are you looking for Valentino?" He asks, voice weirdly distant yet close all at the same time. His smile is large, almost devilish looking as he stares down at you.

You feel on edge, and your head still has a very faint buzzing lining itself.

"Oh, erm, Yeah.. I can't seem to recall what room-" You flinch as he hooks an arm around your neck walking you down the hallway once again with a smirk. There's a weird edge to him that you can't pin down, this whole interaction almost seems.. forced? Oh, there you go again, putting labels on things. Stop overthinking!

"Don't worry your pretty head about it! I'll take you to him," he says, unhooking his arm from your shoulder; only for him to rather sensually drag his hand across your shoulder blades until it's claws barely rest against your shoulder.

"But you know," Vox begins, swinging himself around so he stands in front of you, hands resting on either of your shoulders. You have to stop yourself from bumping into his chest. "You don't have to work for him." He says, his voice turning slightly more TV like and distant as he speaks.

"What do you mean..?" You ask, pushing his hand off of your shoulder with a painful twist of butterflies. A type of butterflies that you can't understand.

"Well, you seem like the type of gal to enjoy.." he looks you up and down, moving his hands from your shoulders as he grins. "Taking orders," you tilt your head at his words, confused. He shakes his head to himself, looking away for a moment with a slight frown before staring back, smiling brightly.

"No, I mean that you could be my assistant! You can.." He thinks for a moment, tapping the bottom of his screen as if it were his chin. He shrugs, smiling awkwardly with furrowed brows. "Bring me drinks and such! C'mon.."

He leans down to your level again, looking into your eyes. You suddenly feel that wave of disorientation go through you again, the only thing seeming to make sense to you being.. Vox.

"You don't want to be exploited by him, do you?" He says, and you feel his screen radiating heat on your skin. The buzzing becomes more loud as he goes on, all you seem to be able to hear being his words as they drip from his vile tongue. "C'mon dear, He'll break you."

"And you don't want to be broken, Right?"

He is right. You don't want to be broken by Valentino. You don't want to be exploited. But you don't have any other choice-

Until now, that is. You have an opportunity.

You should take it, right?

The headache and buzzing dissipate, taking a chunk of your psyche along with it. You feel your feet begin to give out beneath you from the exertion, lacking balance as you wobble softly. Not wanting to faceplant into the carpet, you reach out to something, anything to hold you. It just so happens to be Vox's chest, grasping onto the fabric of his coat as you begin to slip down to the floor.

"Hey, Hey, it's okay, What's got you out of sorts?" He asks, grasping you by your waist as he lifts you back to your feet. You blink, looking around for a moment with a nervous breath. Those butterflies, again. You hate them.

"I- uh.. I dunno.." You say stutter, pushing yourself away and scratching that back of your neck.

"You're feeling better?" Vox says, dipping his lids as he tilts his head rather attractively.

You nod, looking down at the ground with a nervousness inside of you.

"Good, good.." he turns away, looking at the ground and pacing for a short amount of time "good.." he says softly to himself, turning back around and clasping his hands together as he grins.

"Now how about you follow me and we can get you set up, yeah?" He says, pressing his hand against the space between your shoulder blades as he turns back to the elevator. You look up at him, and for a moment he seems to be in his own world. At least he is until you speak.

"So what's your name, Mister?" You ask, fiddling your fingers against each other nervously. He grins, lids upturning with the smile as well. He leans down again, poking a blue claw on your cheek as buzzing blurs your brain.

"It's Vox, my dear," He says, and your brain goes soft and mushy with an emotion you cannot describe. It feels as though he's making you melt.

"Keep that in your head for me, will you princess?" He asks softly, pulling his claw up the side of your face with a manic grin.

With a sudden movement he pulls away, shrugging his hands.

"Now darling, let's get back to it, shall we?"

Something is off, and part of you wants more of it.

--- 666 ---

Mister Vox's office is large in size, walls lined with screens displaying different things across the entirety of the pride ring. You wonder what Vox may do here all day, seeing the singular seat between it all that doesn't even seem that cozy.

You assume he watches, broadcasts, does meeting, and.. does what he's doing right now, perhaps?

"What do you do all day, Mister Vox?" You ask, looking wide-eyed at the television lined walls of the area. He flinches, grinning awkwardly before bringing back his confident demeanor.

"Me? Oh, you know.. this and that- I go to meetings.. I sign paperwork, I go to meetings.." He laughs to himself, shaking his hand dismissively as he sits in his seat, spreading his legs in a man spread. You turn away from the screens, looking over at Vox as he scans the monitors with narrowed eyes. You wonder if he was doing something important before he found you.

"Uh, Mister Vox, what do I do now..?" You ask, taking a small step towards him. He tilts his head towards you, smiling as he swings his chair to face you completely.

"oh, you? You can just sit there and look pretty.." Vox looks you up and down with narrowed eyes, face blank for a long moment before bringing a small smirk onto his face. He leans back in his chair, clicking his fingers as a bundle of clothing finds it's way into your hands.

"Perhaps prettier, change into that for me will you dearest?" He says, leaning his head on his fist as his voice becomes slightly more distant. You look at him, confused as you clutch the blue and red clothing to your chest.

"Okay.. Where do I change, Mister Vox?" You say, fiddling with the collar of your shirt as your body feels hot. Vox rolls his eyes playfully, pointing a clawed finger to the floor as he shifts his chair back to the screen. "Just change here my dear, no one will see you," He says, looking at you with a side glance. It's almost condescending, in a way.

"right here? But-"

"Here is fine, dear. Hell, here is more safe to change than anywhere else in this building," He laughs. You get this off feeling like you should trust him. I mean, he's one of the people owning this building anyway, right? He would be the one knowing a lot about it rather than anyone else. you should trust him.

"Okay Mister Vox."

You can't see his grin.

Every piece of clothing you peek off feels like this weird symbolism for losing yourself. Off comes your shirt: a piece is lost. Off comes your shorts: a piece of you is lost. And then more clothes come onto you, building something new. On comes a skirt: a piece of you is molded. On comes a blouse: a piece of you is molded.

And then there's this watch, a mobile one with 'Vox Tech' plastered across the side. With a shrug you put it on, struggling with getting it to tightness but ultimately managing to win the battle with the finicky strap.

"Good, good, how great you look!" He says, outstretching his hands with a grin.

You feel yourself blush, one half of you from his compliment and the other half from the fact he's looking completely in your direction. Does that mean he was watching you the whole time?

"Actually my dear, do you think you can grab me a coffee?" He asks, clicking his hands as a streak of blue energy shoots inside of the watch; this causes a mao to appear on the screen, showing where you are currently. "That map should tell you where to go, the assistant there should give you the coffee the way I like it,"

You shouldn't ask it, but you feel your bones ache too.

"How do you like it?"

He grins, tilting his head.

"Sweet with a strong flavour," He states, waving you off.

--- 666 ---

The first week as Vox's Assistant goes by smoothly, or as smoothly as it could working with an Overlord of hell. A rather odd seeming one at that.

Everything feels on edge with Vox, you feel like at any moment he could do something drastic. You've no idea what said drastic thing could be either, which makes it a whole lot more anxiety inducing. Hell, Vox is attractive. That's probably why you're on edge. That's what you keep telling yourself anyway. You're probably in love with him or something.

Vox had even given you housing as close to the building as possible, insisting he pay the rent. Not that you complain, no; less walking for you it seems. The Vox Tech watch he gave you tells you pretty much everything that you need to do. When you wake up in the morning it goes off, alerting you like an alarm, it has a to do list that blares when you're in the office, it maps out the whole space, it even acts as Vox's messaging system towards you.

You do wonder how he controls it, even in the comfort of your own home. Well, he is an overlord, right? He's capable of things even outside of your grasp. You cannot even fathom what he could do with that power.

And that's just the way Vox likes it.

Actually, you haven't seen Valentino around the building the whole week either. Even in a meeting you accompanied Vox to. You'd expect to see him more often with all the prowling in and out of the building you do.

It's as if he's vanished.

"Princess, grab me a coffee will you? Maybe even grab one for yourself while you're at it, on the house," Vox asks, swiveling on his chair to face your own, which sits just off to the side of his own with a small desk in front of it. You'd been doing some paperwork for him for the past hour, mostly reading through stuff, asking him questions, and singing them for him.

"Yeah, sure.. um, I was just wondering.." You utter softly, causing Vox to raise a brow as he leans back on his chair with a confident grin. He tilts his head in question, saying: "What's on your mind, (N/N)?"

"I haven't seen Valentino around the building, I was just wondering if something's up with him?" You ask, looking down at the ground as you begin to regret yourself even questioning. Vox laughs, flapping his hand in dismissal.

"Oh, just that? Don't worry about it! He's just.." Vox pauses for a moment, shrugging his shoulders. "Doing his own thing," He finishes, smiling rather oddly as he begins moving his chair back to face his computers. You intercept.

"His own thing..?"

Vox turns back to you, grinning widely with a manic look in his 2-D eyes. Once again, the buzzing fills your brain. And you fall to your knees against the ground with a painful 'thump'. Vox harshly grips your chin, pulling you closer to him until all you can see is that blaring red eye of his as he speaks.

"As i said,"

You feel yourself wanting to let go.

"Don't worry about it."

He lets you go of your trance, leaving you teary eyed as he smiles softly, brows furrowing in a sort of mocking empathetic way. His eyes drip with affection you find.

"Now, grab that coffee, okay?" He finishes, placing a cold kiss against your forehead before letting go of your chin, leaving yourself to gather your bearings.

It's not often you feel the want to defy someone. But as you stand from the floor, dusting off your skirt and walking to the elevator; you feel that need to be defiant. You'd figure out where Valentino is. He has to be somewhere in the building, right? You just have to find.. him..

In these hundreds and hundreds of doors. You would have to find him. And you can't take so long, otherwise Vox may suspect something.

You'd find someone to tell you where he is, you'd find him, and you'd stop worrying if Vox is going to do something drastic because he hasn't lied to you. Simple as that, simple as that. Right?

As it just so happens, as you begin walking through the studio halls you find yourself bumping into a spider individual, of whom you remember being a popular porn star.

So with an anxious breath you asked him. He explained that Valentino was in studio B-40, but he doesn't recommend finding him. And once again you go against someone's wishes. Plus, you were just going to stick your head in the door. It's nothing to worry about.

So what are you so anxious when you find yourself getting closer to the door? Why does your throat feel so tight? Why do you want to run in the other direction? Why does every step feel so heavy?

Taking another small step to the door, you wonder if you should listen to your conscious. It's supposed to do you good , right?

No, that's baby talk.

You aren't weak. You aren't letting the people in hell get you down! You are going to open the door!

You push yourhand towards the door handle and-

"Ouch! Fuck-" You yelp, an electric shock going through your body, causing you to fall backwards onto the hard floor below. Your whole body is on fire, you can't feel your tongue. You can't feel your brain.

A hum accompanies Vox's words.

"You're not going in there." He says, leaning over you as you push yourself to your knees, pressing yourself to the wall. Your head is throbbing.

"I'll beat him to a pulp if he sees you, you know?" Vox laughs, that sickening pseudo-empathetic look covering his flat features. You feel your stomach twist, this time in an awful way, it's like he's draining you of your soul. You want to disappear.

"I don't want to be aggressive," Vox begins as he grips your face harshly, causing tears to well into your eyes. "But your fucking mine, you got that?"

"And I won't let that sleazy prick get his greedy eyes anywhere near you!"

"W-what?" You whimper, pushing his hands from his face and backing away meekly. Vox laughs to himself, red dripping from his two dimensional mouth. He humors you with that gaze of his, eating alive any part of your confidence that may still linger.

"Oh, don't you get it, my dear? You sighed the paperwork," Vox leans down so his eyes can bore into your own, his gums showing in that prideful smile of his. "You belong to me now."

You choke on air, standing to your wobbly feet.

"W-what? I don't un-"

The paperwork. The paperwork you signed to get the job. You didn't read it! You idiot. You fucking idiot! You've ruined your own life. You belong to him..

To Vox.

"You- Shit-!" You turn around on your heels, almost slipping as you speed off into the hallway. You hear his voice echo in your ears.

"You can't run. Hell, you can't hide either!"

This was a mistake, this whole thing was a mistake. You want to die. You want to disappear. You want to get as far away from him as possible. You don't even take the elevator down, you run down every single flight of stairs jumping down a couple to save time.

The slip beneath your feet almost makes you topple over as you clutch onto the railing, swinging yourself onto the next flight of stairs. You have to be close to the bottom, right. Right? Yeah. This is fine.

And you were, right, surprisingly. You can almost see the entrance outside. You just have to make it out of this lobby. You just have to make it out of this huge fucking stupid ass lobby! You have to.

All of the sinner's eyes bore at you as you run at top speed to the door. You can't be here. You need to leave immediately. He can't find you If you're far away, right? Just go somewhere without a camera.. it'll be fine.. everything will be fine.

You're so close! Just a few more steps, a few more heavy, headache inducing steps.

You can make it. You just have to believe in yourself, and it'll all work out. Everything will be fine. It just has to be. Hell can't be this cruel, can it?

You're so close to the door you can smell the outside world, hear the cars as they pass, hear the charter hear the-

You choke and fall.onto the ground, a heaviness around your neck and wrists. It buzzes against your skin, making you go light headed. You can barely see it, but it's there. There are handcuffs around your wrists. And a collar around your neck. All of which glowing and buzzing with that electric blue of Vox.

He is right.

You can't run, you can't hide, you can't do anything.

He owns you, he has you. You can't do anything.

You made a mistake.

Maybe hell really is this cruel.

Keeping you forever tethered to this man.

Who knew one mistake would ruin the rest of your eternity.

Serves you right for being so naive.

"Alright now, are we done with our tantrum?" Vox asks.

"Yes mister Vox." You say.

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #Vox x reader #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox yandere #yandere vox #yandere hazbin hotel #ask #sensei chaos requests #senseichaosanons #lovely anon

[anistarrose]

I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide

[Plain text: "I want to make my posts more accessible, but can't write IDs myself: a guide." End plain text.]

While every image posted online should be accessible in an ideal world, we all know it 1) takes time to learn how to write image descriptions, and 2) is easy to run out of spoons with which to write IDs. And this says nothing of disabilities that make writing them more challenging, if not impossible — especially if you're a person who benefits from IDs yourself.

There are resources for learning how to write them (and if you already know the basics, I'd like to highlight this good advice for avoiding burnout) — but for anyone who cannot write IDs on their original posts at any current or future moment, for any reason, the there are two good options for posting on Tumblr.

1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord

[Plain text: "1. Crowdsource IDs through the People's Accessibility Discord". End plain text.]

The People's Accessibility Discord is a community that volunteers description-writing (and transcript-writing, translation, etc) for people who can't do so themselves, or feel overwhelmed trying to do so. Invite link here (please let me know if the link breaks!)

The way it works is simple: if you're planning to make an original post — posting art, for example — and don't know how to describe it, you can share the image there first with a request for a description, and someone will likely be able to volunteer one.

The clear upside here (other than being able to get multiple people's input, which is also nice) is that you can do this before making the Tumblr post. By having the description to include in your post from the start, you can guarantee that no inaccessible version of the post will be circulated.

You can also get opinions on whether a post needs to be tagged for flashing or eyestrain — just be able to spoiler tag the image or gif you're posting, if you think it might be a concern. (Also, refer here for info on how to word those tags.)

The server is very chill and focused on helping/answering questions, but if social anxiety is too much of a barrier to joining, or you can't use Discord for whatever reason, then you can instead do the following:

2. Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards

[Plain text: "Ask for help on Tumblr, and update the post afterwards". End description.]

Myself and a lot of other people who describe posts on this site are extra happy to provide a description if OP asks for help with one! This does leave the post inaccessible at first, so to minimize the drawbacks, the best procedure for posting an image you can't fully describe would be as follows:

Create the tumblr post with the most bare-bones description you can manage, no matter how simple (something like "ID: fanart of X character from Y. End ID" or "ID: a watercolor painting. End ID," or literally whatever you can manage)

Use a tool like Google Lens or OCR to extract text if applicable and if you have the energy, even if the text isn't a full image description (ideally also double-check the transcriptions, because they're not always perfect)

Write in the body of the post that you'd appreciate a more detailed description in the notes!

Tag the post as "undescribed" and/or "no id" only if you feel your current, bare-bones description is missing out on a lot of important context

When you post it and someone provides an ID, edit the ID into the original post (don't use read mores, italics, or small text)

Remove the undescribed tag, if applicable. If you're posting original art, you can even replace it with a tag like "accessible art" for visibility!

And congrats! You now have a described post that more people will be able to appreciate, and you should certainly feel free to self-reblog to give a boost to the new version!

#accessibility #image descriptions

[vendetta-ari]

Please, write an x reader about the Vs with an angel reader who they want to win over and who happens to be completely oblivious about their intentions because she is very naïve. Oh, and I would appreciate some fluff! If it's okay, I'd like Vox and Val to have romantic intentions while Velvette has platonic ones (ie: wanting to hang out with reader and show off her work). Of course, this last bit about Velvette is completely up to you! Thank you for reading! <3

my first ask back from hiatus, enjoy my dear anon! I'll be honest, I dont know how to write Valentino in a not smutty or angsty way, so I tried my best, velvette's has implications of her liking you but not dating so???

[SUGGESTIVE AND ITS VALENTINO SO IT DESERVES ITS OWN WARNING THERE]

THE VEE'S X ANGEL READER

Vox

☆ Vox found you during extermination day, you weren't an exterminator- just wanted to visit the bright red place they call hell. 

☆ took an interest in you, more specifically your naivete. he put on his business smile and led you to the vee's tower wanting to “tour hell” with you

☆ Instead he just ended up falling for you harder than he thought

☆ his original plan was to get you to sign your soul off and he'd use you as branding, something like “even angels live voxtek products!!”

☆ but he ended up liking you more than he should've, he thinks your naive and kinda ditzy, he loves it and think its adorable

☆ however, he doesn't let you leave hell, so I suppose you're a fallen angel now.

☆ no matter,  you're with Vox now. you can have everything you ever need and want

☆ And he totally didn't brainwash your brain into thinking that. 

☆ “Just don't ask questions, okay angel?”

Valentino 

~Valentino saw you wandering hell during extermination, you were not killing anyone though.. what the fuck?

~But you, you looked different then the other angles he'd seen.

~He just had to have you,  I mean how could he possibly even resist! it's your fault for looking all dumb and naive like that after all. 

~He grabbed your wrist and threw you into his studio, all the explicit content and nudity made your poor virgin eyes look away and blush.

~ “Aren't you a lovely specimen my dear angel? your so much different then the others I've seen, amorcito~” His voice was tinged with lies but you were just too stupid to notice, weren't you?

~You fell hook, line, and sinker for him. you quickly signed a contract with him, he had you right where he wanted you. while him? well you were..just another worker is all. but soon you started getting popular, in videos like Ditzy angel has their first time!~

~It was all acting anyway, what was the harm in making a few videos?

~You quickly became Val's favorite. He didn't treat you badly, you'd sit on his lap while he'd direct his other workers. He'd treat them so badly though! you couldn't help but feel bad so you often calmed val down by snuggling up to him and wrapping your pretty angelic wings around him.

~Upon your touch he usually shuts up, and wraps his own wings around you too. and he would always be gentle with you. 

Velvette

-Velvette just found you waltzing around hell like it was no big deal, she was confused as hell but intrigued, you were different 

-actually, you were perfect. so she snatched the opportunity while she could.

-She ran up to you, turning up her charm and asking you if you wanted to model for her company

-She showered you with compliments, and it was more like an order and demand rather than her actually asking you.

-no matter, you excitedly agreed. you've always wanted to be a model!

-Your her top model actually,  you got a lot of popularity being an angel after all

-She dresses you up in white and blue, not usually her style but she must admit, it looks great on you!

-You never leave her side, she's very protective of you. I mean there are dangerous people out in hell and “I just wanna keep you safe my angelic dolly!~”

-Any of her advances fly right by you, not even noticing she's flirting with you, she does get pissed about it sometimes but she usually just ends up saying “You're a klutz, my dear angel. and your cute and ditzy and clearly not getting that I'm flirting with you so your clearly my type.”

-you look away from the new dress she bought you “Huh? sorry what'd you say Vel? I got distracted..”

-xoxo, Ari

#hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #fluff #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel smut #velvette x reader #Valentino x reader

[jymwahuwu]

Hello, it's my first time asking and it took me a lot of courage to do this. So I recently had a thought about what if the reader and Jing Yuan were childhood friends and she used to tease him a lot when they were younger but then she did something to get exiled from the Xianzhou and became part of the stellaron hunters but came back with blade and Kafka like in the story but after the whole phantiliya battle was finished she still stayed on the Luofu for awhile for nostalgia but got captured by the cloud nights and she was sent to see the general himself. But all this time the reader thought the general would have hated her for what she did but instead of hating her he was waiting for her to come back so he could see her and tease her like how she did to him. Idk if anyone else has already sent an idea like this but I just wanted to share my thoughts and I think it would be a pretty interesting storyline. Sorry if I was rambling but it's okay if you don't write abt this I'll be fine if you just gave some thoughts about it. Thank you for reading this idea of mine and don't worry about answering fast I know you have a lot going on in your life so just take care of yourself! (Also sorry if there are some things that didn't make sense I'm too scared to look back at what I wrote)

Love this idea!! It’s interesting and you expressed it clearly. Don't be afraid <3

Ah…turning the tables…my favourite 🤤😌 please provide me with more

-CW: yandere, non-con, kidnapping, threaten

In childhood, you and Jing Yuan were friends. Jing Yuan has precocious wisdom and is out of place among his peers, but you don't respect him. Maybe just…jealousy? These are for some childish reasons, maybe he gets perfect marks every time, he gets candy but you don't, and parents on both sides compare you to him. In your eyes, Jing Yuan is just a white-haired little boy who is similar to you. You occasionally pull his soft white hair, make him some strange braids, and often tease him, such as giving him nicknames and laughing at him. The strange thing is that Jing Yuan has never been angry with you and is as tolerant to you as the ocean.

As you grow older, you gradually drift away from each other. You also know that he joined the Cloud Knights and eventually… succeeded general. Seeing him on the Space Channel, the childhood friend you used to tease, became one of the leaders of this space civilization, and you had really mixed emotions.

You have taken your own path in life, become a member of the Stellaron Hunters, and fallen into the gray area. You and the members pick up Blade and accept him as a new member. I heard that he used to be Jing Yuan's best friend, but when you asked him about it, you found that his memory was also blurred.

Just like you.

Looking back on the past and reviving those faded memories, you are a little unsure whether Jing Yuan really never got angry, or whether you subconsciously beautified this memory. How can this be? He definitely hates you.

Before setting off back to Luofu, Elio's message said that this time the script is about Kafka, Blade and you. He tells you to be careful of General Luofu because this time you have only one fate, which is to be [caught], and only this fate can continue your destiny. It seems that most of the details are no longer visible, and your fate is shrouded in mist. You couldn't help but feel funny and told them you'd be fine.

What can Jing Yuan do to you?

However, the wanted portrait is indeed painted lifelike, in Xianzhou's traditional style. It's hard not to think that Jing Yuan provided an extremely detailed proposal in painting the wanted poster about you. It's kind of creepy.

You rescued Blade according to the flow of the script and met with Kafka. While they went to find the rumored Imbibitor Lunae, you spent some time reminiscing on Luofu. Just a moment. The moment you stepped into that familiar place, you immediately fell into unconsciousness. There was a very slight tingling sensation on your neck, like a small ant biting you, and then you fell into the boundless darkness.

When you woke up… your wrists were already locked with iron chains wrapped in feathers, right at the head of the bed. If you don't pay attention, the chain can even become invisible. Accompanying it was the general's narrowed smile, a little mocking but still gentle. The enlarged smile is right in front of you.

"Jing Yuan?! What are you doing?" A kiss electrified your heart. You watched in shock as your childhood friend held the back of your head and kissed you, lingeringly, lovingly. His eyes were closed, as if he was enjoying it, murmuring your name while kissing you. You pushed and kicked him, but he enveloped you like a quilt, crushing you. He places you in the mating position and bottoms out his cock inside you, emptying out his long-unreleased seed.

"Jing Yuan…? Stop! Stop this…"

Jing Yuan won't stop teasing you - you are too cute for him and that doesn't change. He continued to whisper lewd things in your ear, and occasionally lied about having sent a video of your orgasm to people who hated Stellaron Hunters. Your eyes were as wide as a frightened deer and you sucked his cock with resignation, tears falling. And the number of orgasms is so humiliating, you always deny it… You will not lose to the Jing Yuan you used to tease…

Jing Yuan likes you, but does not deny the possibility. Maybe Jing Yuan once really hated you, maybe he hated you during those teasings, but a long life is like peeling off the peel of a fruit in the end, revealing the crystal clear flesh inside. What remains are those sparkling memories. Your bright smile stayed in his memory.

#jing yuan x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #yandere hsr #yandere hsr x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader #honkai x reader

[ao3commentoftheday]

I got a response to a post like two weeks ago that I've been thinking about ever since: how do I know whether I'm writing for myself or for others?

Sometimes this is an obvious answer and sometimes it's harder to pin down, especially when so often we're doing both at the same time - at least if we're posting our writing online.

Writing a story is one activity and posting that story to AO3 or tumblr is a different activity. Doing the first one doesn't necessarily mean doing the second. If you go into a story without the intention of showing it to anyone else, then you can feel pretty confident that it's just for you. But what about the times when you go in knowing that the end result will be read by others?

Fandom is a community space. Even when we write something self-indulgent, we often want to share it with others or to hear others tell us they enjoyed our work. That's normal and healthy and makes us an active and participating community member. What's not so healthy is when that desire for feedback becomes the sole driving force behind our writing. If you find yourself only writing in order to get that feedback, then you're most likely writing for others and not for yourself.

But that's also a scenario that lots of people talk about. You've probably heard that before - maybe even from me. What if that's not the issue, and yet you still feel uncertain about who you're really writing for?

That's when you need to start listening to yourself. And I don't just mean check in with your feelings. I mean listen to your own thought processes and reasons for making choices.

Are you developing a character in a direction that you think the fandom would like, even though you don't find that direction particularly interesting?

Are you pulling your punches in your whump or angst scenes because you don't usually write stuff "that heavy" and you don't want to "lose your audience"?

Are you making your smut tamer? Kinkier? Trying to satisfy someone else's idea of a hot scene instead of writing what you'd actually want to read yourself?

The decisions you make around your writing should please you, more often than they don't. If most of your decisions are based on the reaction of your imagined future readers, then you might be happy with the ship or the plotline or the resolution but feel less than satisfied about the smaller bits and pieces that make up the fic.

Give yourself the gift of not posting everything you write. Keep some of it back and just for you. Spend time on those works and really analyze why you're doing what you're doing there - and why you're not doing it in the works you share. Figuring out the difference might help you get a better idea of how to find the best way to reach the only guaranteed audience you ever have: yourself.

#thinky thoughts #I have no idea if this helps or not #but I hope it does?

[bluetimeombre]

: ̗̀➛ Call it what you want to

You're an up-coming star, staring in some hit movies like Hunger games Ballad of songbirds and snakes and now Wonka, along the Timothee Chalamet.

[i'm obsessed with my man and just need to ignore the fact he's dating someone that isn't me. anyway, you're an up-coming actress who stared in the new hunger games movie and now you're also staring in wonka, the people love you and maybe, so does a co-star of yours] not proof read. this was very fun to write so maybe i'll do more, if anyone likes it. or just for me

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

liked by... tayrussell, joshandresrivera, tomblyth, sadiesink_, tchalamet & others

yourusername: wonka press tour starts now!

809k likes. 304k comments

user: wait, you're in wonka?!

user: I LOVE YOU!!

user: mother giving us content, as always

tchalamet: now you've posted can you come up and help me

yourusername: no

tchalamet: pls!!!

user: omg she really said no to timothee chalamet, who does she thin she is?

user: slayyyy

user: isn't wonka supposed to suck

tomblyth: from one press tour to another, i see

yourusername: girls got to earn a living

tomblyth: she doesn't let the grass grow

user: say hi to timothee for me!!!!

user: omg how is she getting all the hottest guys in hollywood rn? gurl leave some for us

wonkamovie: 😍😍

balladofsongbirdsandsnakes: 😍😍😍

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you were flicking through comments by your friends when your phone started to ring, the familiar picture of your co-star flicking up on your phone. quickly, you dimissed yourself from your assistant and took the call. 'yes?'

'I need your help.'

'Timothee, you're old enough to zip up your own jacket,' you tease, leaning on the wall.

'I don't know what jumper to wear, what are you wearing? we'll coordinate.'

you'd opted for something of your own style. a jumper with pinks and blues and a white flowering skirt with a ring almost on every finger. this was only your second big press tour and sitting next to timothee chalamet every day for it was enough to make you nervous. so nervous you woke every morning wondering if you'd throw up. it didn't help you were also surrounded by others you'd looked up to, like olivia coleman and hugh grant. how were you supposed to keep your cool for months. even if now you were considered just as big a star.

'don't you have a stylist for this?' you ask, looking at the crew around, ready to go but waiting for him.

'there's three options and i don't know which one to go for. can't you just come up.'

you could, sure. go to timothee's hotel room and see him probably shirtless. once you'd have dreamt of it, but things were different, now you just didn't have a silly celebrity crush. now he was your co-star and very off limits.

'option two now come on, please.' quickly, you end the call and pick up your coffee, heading to the room where you'd be sat for the next eight hours answering questions with timothee.

you were there first, shaking hands with the interviewer and introducing yourself to her. you took your seat, making little chatter before timothee chalamet walked in, calm, cool and collected. completely different to your flushed and smiling expression.

you watched as he quickly said hello to everyone in the room and greeted the lady who'd be conducting the interview.

timothee turned to you, arms out wide and waiting. laughing, you put your coffee down and stood up, giving him a hug. you shared small pleasantries before he took his seat next to you, shuffling around and settling in. only then did you realise how much your jumpers looked the same, both smudges of similar colours. you blushed more as timothee watched, silently wondering what could make you so red. as if he had no idea what he did to you just by sitting down next to him.

'I have had scrub scrub stuck in my head since seeing the movie,' she- charline, said as you and timothee laugh. 'do you guys have a favourite song you got to perform?'

'I mean, pure imagination was quite a surreal experience. you know, getting to sing something that was so ... iconic, it was-it was a lot of fun. and a lot of pressure, but, in a good way,' said timothee.

'you killed it,' you assure, casually.

'thank you,' he smiled.

'i really enjoyed you've never had chocolate like this number. that was just so fun, the dancing and all,' you say, timothee nodding and agreeing.

'for a moment was fun to, i guess,' added timothee. 'we got to dance.'

you grin at the memory. 'we did.' you remembered the a million takes, timothee singing practically to you while prancing around. it was your favourite scene to shoot because it was such an easy and happy scene. you didn't have to think about it, just held timmy's hand as he twirled you around the place.

'and i know we're here to talk about wonka but i just have to say-' she gestured to you, 'congratulations on hunger games, biggest movie in the world.'

you wave her off, thanking her as timmy claps for you. 'thank you, thank you.'

'i was wondering what was your favourite song to film there on that set and how does it compare to singing on this one.'

ranting about yourself or your achievements was always hard for you. your stardom and come so quickly with hunger games and wonka, so much so you felt like you didn't deserve half of it.

'i mean, for hunger games it was all live. i sang them there and then so that's daunting in itself, um. i loved filming pure as the driven snow, just because i got to- essentially- sing it to tom. it was just him and me and the crew, like for those shots there was no extra's so that was great fun. a special moment. and singing it to him made it a whole lot easier. whereas on this movie, luckily it was all like pre-recorded so, not so daunting. didn't have to sing in front of timothee chalamet,' you say.

he listened carefully to you, seeing your smile at mentioning tom blyth, your co-star from the hunger games. he'd never met the guy, he was probably lovely- from the amount you talked about him. 'you've got a great singing voice.'

'thanks man.'

'this cast is just so insane and obviously you two got close during filming,' says charline, gesturing to the two of you.

timothee nudged you with his head, like he'd done a thousand times before knowing how much you secretly loved it. just like a horse, as had been quoted.

'who's more british, olivia or hugh?'

'hugh, easily,' you say. you loved all of hugh's movies, but you'd never say that to his face.

'you know, i'm gonna go and say you,' says timothee, turning to you.

you drop you jaw, pointing to yourself. yes, you were british, but more so than than the hugh grant seemed impossible. 'me?'

'yea, i mean, hugh grant is like a walking union jack- and i mean that in the best way possible, but you seem so much more like british. you know, wicked sense of humor and the charm and- you love london,' he pointed out.

'i do love london,' you agreed.

'did you have fun filming in england, timothee?' she asked.

they want on and on to talk about filming the movie, answering questions in depth and it was sure the two of you had great answers, listening intently together and everyone could tell. your chemistry was there, your smiles and answers together were almost so perfect it was like it was practiced and the fans ate it up!

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liked by... zendaya, mtv, kyliejenner, yourusername, wbpictures & others

tchamalmet: WONKA!!! coming soon

tagged: yourusername

1.1m likes, 609k comments

user: he posted! he posted!

user: we are getting FED

user: i just know this is all yourusername influence

user: not kylie liking...

user: statistics! statistics!

liked by yourusername

yourusername: bring back little timmy tim!

yourusername: out of all the pictures you chose that one

user: anyone else think her and timmy are getting too close

user: like fr she stealin my man

user: i love them!!!

user: i swear something is going on with her and tom blyth

user: she's just like us!

user: LOVE!!!!!

user: her and timmy >>> him and kylie

user: plssss, i love kylie

user: is wonka a musical

user: TIMMY I WANT TO HAVE YOUR CHILDREN!!!

user: fave bob dylan song?

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liked by... tomblyth, rachelzeglar, tchalamet, hunterschafer, zendaya & others

yourusername: ballad of song birds and snakes is number one movie? more like i'm the number one most grateful person out there for this chance and being trusted with my girl lucy-grey!!! thank you, thank you, thank you!!

tagged: tomblyth

1m likes 477k comments

tomblyth: lots of love my dear !

user: pls the second picture was so unncesary she just wanted to post it

user: MOTHER

user: parents are parenting

user: I LOVED THIS FILM

user: tom blyth is honestly so hot like wtf

rachelzeglar: my luv &lt;3

yourusername: omg my gf everybody!!!!

joshandresrivera: funny how you don't post a picture of me

yourusername: it's funny because i don't like you

joshandresrivera: tomblyth you gonna let her talk to me like that??

tomblyth: she's the boss

user: how is she so amazing in everything

user: wonder how she got this job? she's literally as plain as a plank

user: hi!

user: the film was insane, i'm obsessed

user: i need this film injected into my veins

user: she's so good at singing, get her on broadway!!!

tchalamet: very proud

yourusername liked tchalamet's comment

user: why would you post the second pic unless they're clearly dating

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user: pls why do i ship them so hard!!

user: lol it looks like he's just refusing to answer questions without her

user: is nobody gonna talk about how they were basically wearing the same jumpers?

user: no because i thought the exact same thing

user: someone pointed it out in an interview and timothee said it was 100% planned, they're so cute

user: doesn't he have a girlfriend?

user: isn't she with tom blyth? they look like they're together?

user: they haven't confirmed it

user: they don't need to did you see her post on instagram?! it was all just him

user: no but the way she's just constantly blushing around him

user: so would you if you were sat next to the timothee chalamet

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #timothée chalamet #tom blyth #i need him biblically #timothee x you #wonka 2023 #timothee chalamet x reader #timmy #tom blyth x reader #the hunger games #wonka #actress #social media

[luveline]

hi jade! I just want to preface this by saying I hope you’re having a good day. I noticed that you were hoping for some hotch requests and I figured I would send one in. if this is too vague or you just don’t feel inspired I completely understand, but maybe you could do something with a stressed hotch getting a little short with reader? he could be on edge because of a high pressure case, or something along those lines! nothing too angsty just some hurt/comfort, heavy on the comfort towards the end if you like! (p.s. I personally love all the eddie and roan as of late, so don’t let anyone make you feel obligated to write for characters you don’t want to.) <3 -w

hi! that is so so kind!! and please don't worry I feel no obligation for that, honestly!!<3 grumpy hotch x fem!reader

Hotch is in his office, like always. If you can't see him, you only ever need one guess as to where he is. And you haven't seen him for a few days now, which is weird and unlike him. When he's in your home state, he makes an effort to see you, to dote on you. 

You take his stairs slowly. Hotch will know it's you before you so much as knock on his office door. He has a hypervigilance that doesn't switch off —he could probably guess who it was by the sound of your breathing. 

"Hotch?" you ask, knocking his door for politeness' sake. 

He looks up for a split-second and not a moment longer. You're disappointed at his lack of reaction. How many times has he come home from wherever it is he's flown off to and hugged you hard enough to crack your spine? And, what? He doesn't like you anymore? What sort of reaction is that? 

"Um, I texted you. That I was coming by. Did you see?" you ask. 

"I've been preoccupied," he says, staring hard at the papers on his desk. He doesn't sound like himself. 

"It's been, like, four days since I've seen you. Since you've seen me. You don't wanna even look at me?" you ask. You wish it had come out softly, sweetly, but his behaviour (or lack of) has caught you by surprise. You sound as wounded as you feel. 

"If you'd looked at my text, you'd see that I'm busy," he snaps. 

Your lips part in silent shock. You drop your hand from the doorway where it had been resting and take a half step backwards and out of his office. Your movement draws his attention, and he finally sees the look on your face. 

"Are you serious?" you ask. 

He exhales bodily. "No." Hotch closes the folder. "No, I didn't mean that." 

You hover awkwardly. Truth be told, you want to run away from the situation entirely, unused to him being anything but kind. You'd like to turn around and leave before you can further embarrass yourself by showing your affection and having it rejected. He's caught you so off guard. 

"Come in, please. I do want to see you." 

You step inside and close the door behind you. It takes a gap of silence for you to decide on where you're going to stand, but eventually you round his desk and lean against it, forcing him to push his chair back in order to be face to face. 

"Is it a bad one?" you ask. 

He nods. "Right here in Quantico." 

You look at his shoulder rather than his face, worried you'll find more vehemence in his expression. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And I did read your text, I know you're busy, but busy doesn't tell me if you ate recently, or if you're tired, and those are the kind of things I worry about." You meet his eyes. They're always sombre, but affection softens his brow. You put your hands between your thighs to stop from touching him. "I worry about you, Aaron." 

He must know what you're doing. Tentative, as though worried he's overstepping, Hotch pulls one of your hands into his. He has very big hands, and they dwarf yours near completely when he sandwiches them together. 

"Don't think I didn't hear you, when you first came in," he says. "Hotch, you called me." 

"That's your name." 

He looks you straight in the eye, unabashed. Love lines his face, and apology, his lips curving slowly upwards in an uncommon smile. "Not to you," he murmurs. 

You're still mad at him for being snippy, but the relief of his fondness can't be understated. Your shoulders sag as you relax, your posture arching forward. Hotch leans upward so he can align your faces. If either of you moved an inch, you could kiss. 

"I spoke to you out of turn because I'm stressed. You didn't deserve it. I'm sorry. And I'm grateful to have you looking out for me." His smile abates. "It won't happen again." 

"It won't?" you ask. 

"I'll try my best not to let it." 

You swallow and lean down like you might kiss him, but in actuality you need a second to collect your thoughts. You try to be objective like he is, and it never works. 

Eyes closed, you say, "You've never snapped at me before." 

"I have no reason to." 

When he speaks, it's warm against your cheek. Hotch pulls your arm in a kind encouragement toward him and you follow blindly, setting as much of your weight as you trust him to take on his thigh. He wraps an arm around your back. His lips touch your forehead. 

"Sorry," he says again, rubbing your back. 

"It's not a big deal," you say. 

"I upset you. You weren't expecting it from me. It makes sense for you to feel disappointed." 

"It's not that," you say, thumbing his tie, anything to keep your fidgeting hands busy. "I'm being silly." 

"You're not." 

You're positioned in a twist on his lap, your leftmost ribs to his stomach. He hugs you to his chest and closes the gap between you, his arm encircling you, his hand stretches out across the space under your breasts. It's a comforting, all-encompassing hold. You basically collapse into him, hands desperate at his sides. 

"I missed you," you confess. 

"I miss you," he says, "I'm sorry for being mean." The hand that isn't stretched out across your front appears. He traces your face with two fingertips from the corner of your eye to your jaw, like he's following the path of an invisible tear. His hand flattens, his marriage and pinky finger weave behind your ear, and his thumb pulls at the corner of your mouth. It's so gentle you question if he's even touching you at all. 

He lifts your face to his and kisses you softly. 

"You're not mean," you whisper. "Just grumpy." 

He huffs a laugh through his nose. "Very grumpy. But two minutes with you is enough to make me feel better." 

You hum, "Mm, you're just saying that 'cos you're still in the doghouse, Hotchner." 

His hand falls to your lap. It isn't especially sexual, more intimate than anything as he eases your legs apart to squeeze the soft fat of your thigh. 

"You won't win me over that easily," you say. 

He smiles at you. "No, I don't think I will." There's a secret promise hiding between his words. 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble