#a drabble? in this economy?

[byima]

December Prompts 1: Light

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Dec 1, 2026

The bathroom light wakes him up. The sound of retching gets him out of bed. He winces at the chill of the hardwood floor, but it’s the nudge he needs to get from half-asleep to awake. The gagging he hears, followed by a dry cough, knocks him to fully alert. He makes his way to the bathroom, cursing under his breath.

Her head hangs over the toilet bowl, breaths loud and slow. Against the white tiled floor, her thighs looking tanner than they really are. He takes her in, hand at the nape of his neck, watching her breathe, in...out, her shoulders hunched, hands curled in the hem of her baggy t-shirt.

Percy steps back out into their bedroom.

She’s still in a kneel when he returns, but now she's shifted, head tipped back in fatigue. He reaches for her when her body tenses, she’s gagging again, there's nothing really coming out and there really nothing he can do. She dry heaves and he comes closer, squatting behind her.

Annabeth breathes shakily then spits, hard, trying to clear the taste of sourness and bile from her mouth.

“Put some pants on,” his hand settles on her ribcage, I’m here, the other hand holds out a pair of sweats. “It's cold.”

She doesn’t get up from her position before the toilet, just maneuvers her legs into the pants. One leg in, she jams the other one next, she's finished with a haphazard tug, the band crooked and folded at her waist.

He takes a step back, arms crossing over his bare torso.

“Can get you anything?”

“Ginger tea.” She pushes the hair from her sagging ponytail off of her forehead with two hands. “That’d be nice.”

He watches her for a second, lips pulled in as he considers. In the end, he does as he’s been asked, leaving the sorry, LED bleached scene to return, several minutes later, with the tea as requested, a bit of honey added to soothe.

She’s on her feet by then, toothbrush wedged in her mouth as she sprays the toilet down with some Lysol. She leaves the disinfectant to sit while she rinses out her mouth.

He passes the tea to her when she's done, laying the back of his hand on her neck, then her forehead, just checking.

"Think you can stomach something before work?" He keeps his hand on her, flattening the curls at the crown of her head.

"I'm calling out."

Some of the worry seeps from him.

"Okay," He tilts her head towards him so he can kiss her on the forehead. "Lay down, get some rest." He kisses the hair at her temple. "I've got the girls."

When she crawls back into bed, he's right there pulling the blanket up to her chin. She thanks him softly, eyes almost drifting shut before she catches the pleased look on his face.

"What?" She asks, genuinely curious.

He smiles a little, his hand lingers in her hair out of habit before he admits.

"I didn't think you'd call off."

"Well, I feel like dog shit," she murmurs.

He almost laughs, then sighs with a bit of his own fatigue. "I don't know, honey." He catches her earlobe between his thumb and forefinger. "Sometimes you act like you aren't pregnant. Other times you have me worried sick."

"I can't pretend today," the confession comes out of her, bare enough for him to worry again. "This round goes to your offspring."

He laughs for real this time. "Okay." His thumb brushes her cheek before he bends to press his mouth to the corner of hers. "Take a breather then, Mayweather."

She hmmed. "I'll be back in the ring tomorrow."

#mypjofic #im not even going to reblog the prompt list im working from because we know im not gonna follow through #happy december #ima's annual december prompt fail #percy jackon and the olympians #percy and annabeth #percabeth #can you believe it #a drabble? in this economy?

[highlifeboat]

Mia never thought she’d be so thankful for something as simple as a shower.

While the feeling of warm water hitting skin was initially a shock to her system, it didn’t take long for her to embrace it. Allowing her shoulders to slump and leaning against the tile wall, even closing her eyes for a moment, it almost soothed the aches that were present throughout her body. Three years of built up blood, mud, and who knew what else pooled at her feet before swirling down the drain, washing away the horrors she’d endured with it. To an extent, at least.

She leaned forward, putting her hands against the shower wall and letting the water run down her face. It felt a little odd not having the curtain of dark hair surrounding her when she put her head down, and momentarily rubbed one hand over the buzz cut she’d received. “Too much to detangle” she’d been told far more than once. Despite her personal protests, she eventually reluctantly agreed. It wasn’t really surprising to her, either. She supposed she should be somewhat grateful it was easier to handle for now, but it didn’t stop her stomach from turning over it.

Still, hair would grow back. The state of her teeth, on the other hand, was a completely different issue. As it turned out, going three years eating nothing but rotted meat and vomiting it back up did very little good for them. They hurt constantly, and after she had gotten the energy to brush, it had caused a more than slightly worrying amount of blood. It was disgusting, and she’d repeated the process at least three more times, as if it would make it any better. Her mouth was still sore from the endeavor, and she wasn’t convinced it was worth it.

With a defeated sigh she let herself drop into a sitting position under the water, eventually starting to scrub at the layers of dirt. The bubbles from the soap had an odd sort or grey-brown colour to them at first, and it made Mia wonder how none of her cuts ever got infected. Perhaps there had been something to the mold. It had kept her alive, for sure, an infection was probably nothing for it. She supposed it didn’t matter now.

She scrubbed at her arms, and her torso, and her legs, watching eraser like bits of dirt and disgusting soap wash away down the drain. She almost wished she could do the same with her mind. Take it out and scrub away all the dirt, all the terrifying memories. Chris had promised to find her a psychiatrist to talk to, but Mia wasn’t entirely convinced it was worth anything. They would stick her on meds and that would be that. She wasn’t sure it was worth it, but Chris and Ethan had both been insistent, and really who was she to deny it?

With a sigh, she washed her face and neck, wincing as her fingers touched the large scar in between her neck and shoulder blade. She swallowed at the memory of the dulled axe being swung. The sudden hot flash of pure agony as it ripped through her skin and embedded into her shoulder, all while Ethan stared wide eyed at her, terrified. The look on his face as she fell back and hit the floor. She remembered how peaceful it felt after. Just for a moment, it was over.

Then she’d gotten back up.

Rinse, and repeat.

It had been nothing for her but constant pain after a while. She couldn’t even die from starvation if she tried. And she had tried.

A lot.

The food Eveline and the Baker’s had forced her to eat had started out bad, and it had only gotten worse with time. What began as simple undercooked or raw pig parts often still soaked with blood became rotten, maggot infested piles of fleshy mush. Everything they were served on was disgusting, covered in bugs and previous meals. Mold was everywhere in the kitchens, covering everything from the food in the fridge to the wall, to some of the dishes themselves.

And then, there was the cannibalism.

Mia wasn’t sure why Eveline decided eating the bodies of victims was an appropriate thing to do, but nothing made her stomach twist and knot more than the knowledge that she’s participated in it. Whether it was forced or not, she was guilty of eating human flesh. She was guilty of eating people.

Goddamn it, she was guilty of murdering and eating people. Young people. College and high school students who just stumbled onto the property, who’s families would never get a real answer for what happened to their children. Who would never know why their son or daughter didn’t come home. Mia's stomach suddenly tightened, and she lurched forward to vomit onto the shower floor. The stomach acid burned her throat, and she took a few hard breaths before throwing up again. It was hard to tell if the water running down her face was tears or not, and even harder to know if they were from the pain or if they were from guilt.

For the first time since she’d left the Baker’s property, Mia let out an audible sob.

It was all her fault. The boat, the Bakers, all those people, Zoe, Ethan, she even blamed herself for Eveline’s existence. She should have been better. She should have done more. More to prevent this, more to stop Eveline, more to keep everyone safe. Like she was supposed to. Like they had told her to.

God, she never should have taken that job in the first place. She had been so stupid, and so desperate, and it was supposed to be easy. She was only supposed to babysit. Be someone Eveline could trust. Someone who could keep her calm.

And when she realized what Eveline was, what the real motivations were, what was happening, it was too late to leave without taking the job. Morals aside, they would have had her head if she refused. So she didn’t.

At least the pay was nice.

Mia washed her face, trying to ignore her hiccups and sobs as she scrubbed the dirt away. She cleaned her arms and legs again, but despite the white soap bubbles she didn’t believe they were any cleaner. She could still feel the dirt. The years of grime. It was still there, she could feel it. Like maggots crawling on her skin. So she scrubbed and scratched at her legs and stomach and arms despite the way it made her wounds throb, until her skin turned an angry red.

But she still didn’t feel clean enough.

Eventually, she willed herself to turn off the water and finally step out. Wrapping a towel around herself, she wiped the condensation from the mirror and was met with a slightly blurry reflection. It was jarring to look at. The gaunt look to her face, the dark circles around her eyes, how white and pale the parts of her she hadn’t managed to scrub raw looked, and scars on her face. It didn’t look like her.

But it was.

It was, and she absolutely loathed it.

#a drabble? in this economy? #drabbles #mia winters #angst because i love pain #cw vomit #cw ptsd #?

[nyoomfruits]

i somehow lost the ask but this was written for the ‘wanna practice’ kiss prompt with lestappen :)

The door of the dorm room swings open rather dramatically, banging against the opposing wall as Charles comes barging through, beeling for this bed and flopping down on it face first. 

“Do I just suck?” He asks, voice muffled by his pillow. 

“Yes,” Max says, not looking up from where he is working on his econ homework on his own side of the dorm room. 

“You don’t even have any context,” Charles says, unburrying his face. Max glances at him. He’s pouting.

“Hm,” Max says, pretends to consider it. “No, my answer stands.”

Charles makes a dramatic strangled warbling noise and falls back into the pillows. Not for the first time, Max regrets becoming his friend. It was easier, back in high school, when they were sworn enemies. Lot less exaggerated sighing as Charles waits for him to ask him what’s wrong. 

After the fifth sigh, a deep one that must be coming from the depths of Charles toes, Max finally relents. “Fine,” he says. “What happened?”

Charles looks up with entirely too much glee, happy to be indulged, as he says, “I think I’m like, unloveable.”

Max suppresses his snort as he thinks of all the people that would line up to get their shot with Charles Leclerc. “Sure,” he settles on. “Why?”

“I was making out with this girl last night and then she made this very obvious excuse and just left. And there was this guy, a week ago, we’d just been making out for like, maybe a minute and then he went ‘nope’ and left.” Charles has flopped onto his back now, staring miserably at the ceiling. 

“Maybe you’re just bad at kissing,” Max says, frowning down at his econ homework.

“What? No I’m not,” Charles says, indignant. There’s a pause, during which Max scribbles some things down in his notes. Then, very quietly, “Oh my god, maybe I am.”

Max makes a ‘well, there you go’ motion, and hopes this means he can finally go back to finishing this assignment. It isn’t due for another two days, but there’s that paper coming up and he has time now, so-

“Kiss me,” Charles says. Max hadn’t even heard him move, but he’s here now, leaning into Max’s space like some kind of siren out of a Greek myth trying to lure him into the depths of seduction. 

Or something. If anything, Max’s brain isn’t really working right. Charles is right there, in his space, hands leaning on the sides of Max’s desk chair, looking ridiculously… giddy, almost. Max had this dream once. But Charles had looked a lot more sultry and his eyes had been closed and he’d been sitting in Max’s lap instead of leaning over him and-

“Why,” Max says. In his haste to stop that insane train of thought, he forgets to phrase it as a question. 

Charles pouts at him. His nose is inches away from Max’s. “So you can tell me if I’m a bad kisser.”

“Who says I’d be a good judge of that,” Max says, instead of outright ‘no’, because he’s a self sabotaging idiot. “Maybe I’m a horrible kisser.”

Charles tssk’s. “You and Daniel dated for like two years. If you’d been bad at kissing he’d dumped you much sooner.”

“Thanks,” Max says, frowning. “I think.”

“Come on,” Charles weedles. “Just see it as like, practice. For you. For when the next Daniel comes along.”

Max snorts derisively. The next Daniel is currently trying to convince him to kiss, so. Whatever. “Fine,” Max eventually says, because Charles is a stubborn little bastard and maybe if they kiss he will finally leave Max to his assignment. 

Also Charles is still there, in his space, with his big green eyes and his stupid pouty mouth and Max is only a man, so. 

“Yay!” Charles says, and then abruptly lunges forward to smash his lips against Max’s. 

Their teeth clunk together and Max winces as his nose bumps against Charles’s, and he lets out a strangled little noise as he gently pushes Charles back. 

He’s starting to see there might be some truth to the whole ‘Charles is bad at kissing’ thing. 

“Wow, okay, let’s just,” he gently pushes a confused Charles further back and gets up out of his chair, so they’re face to face. “Maybe do it a little more gently, yeah? Like this,” He puts one hand on Charles chin, tilts his fac up a little, softly brushing their lips together before pressing a little harder, letting their lips slide against each other. 

And oh, it’s much better like this, Charles following Max’s lead, his hands coming to rest on Max’s waist as Max’s hands slip into Charles’s hair, and he’s a little enthusiastic with his tongue at first, but he’s a quick learner, and for a moment there Max forgets all concept of time. 

“Ah,” Charles says when he pulls away. There’s a frown on his face, like he's deep in thought. “Yes. I might have been doing that wrong.”

Max merely hums, still reeling a little bit from the experience, still feeling the faint touch of Charles’s lips on his own, not trusting himself to speak. 

“Well!” Charles suddenly says, seemingly shaking himself out of whatever thought process he’d gotten tangled up in. “Thanks for that! I shall put it into practice now.” 

It takes Max a while to understand what he means, but then Charles is putting on his jacket and grabbing his keys and oh. 

He means with other people. 

“Right,” Max says, trying really hard not to look disappointed. “Right, well, good luck.”

“Thanks!” Charles yells over his shoulder, before moving through the door, taking Max’s entire heart with him. 

Max is left standing in the middle of the room, staring forlornly at his econ homework. It suddenly lost all of its earlier appeal. Especially when he can still feel the ghost of Charles’s finger tips on his waist. 

#lestappen???? in this economy???? #i kid #anyway excuse my characterization its Been A While #lestappen #drabble

[nomazee]

it always sends a little shock thru me when i find fic writers who write for fem readers but say they won’t write for fem reader x fem character for one reason or another i cant tell if it bothers me or makes me giggle

#nora??? ramble posting??? IN THIS ECONOMY??? #this doesn’t actually happen nowadays but i remmeber in my 2015 quotev days this was so common #and it confused me back then BEFORE I WAS EVEN OUT AS QUEER #baby me didn’t know i was a lesbian but i KNEW i was a lesbian u get what i mean #i feel like people who say this often are like ‘i just don’t know how to represent that kind of relationship’ #which IRKS ME IM SO SORRY it bothers me because it’s like #we’re … not that different! this is fanfiction! #nobody is expecting you to represent the woes and whims of a sapphic relationship #we read fics for fun most of the time #you do not need to have personal experiences in homophobia to write a fem reader x fem character drabble on tumblr #i don’t thjnk that like…ANYONE expects that out of a fic writer… #okay guys ramble OVER #all i do on this blog is write fics and talk about being queer #two best pastimes i fear #also omg i’ve gotten requests in my inbox and i swear i’m getting to them they’re so good im so excited to start working on them #i’ve been busy with so so much work but i SWEAR I WILL GET TO EVERYTHING SOON #nora speaks

[headcanonsandmore]

“A Thousand Times”

Summary: Big city dentist Hermione Granger arrives in the small village of Ottery St Catchpole. There, she meets the handy man/odd job man for the entire village, a certain redhead named Ron Weasley...

Based on the K-Drama "Hometown Cha Cha Cha".

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                  Read on FFN.                                   Read on AO3.

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‘Oh, the beach is always nice regardless of the air temperature, you say, Luna?  I won’t even notice the cold wind, you say?...’

Hermione Granger was not in a good mood.

Firstly, she was several hundred miles away from home for a Dental Hygiene Symposium in Devon. Secondly, she had been forced to drive down with her “eccentric” dental assistant who was apparently a local to the area. Thirdly, the previously-mentioned dental assistant had insisted on Hermione driving them to her childhood village. Fourthly, the car had broken down upon reaching the village. Fifthly, this place had no mobile phone coverage and Hermione had used up all her data earlier trying to find the damned village in the first place.

And now, to top everything off, one of her shoes had been swept out to sea.

She sank down on the sand and groaned. It wasn’t like she had a massive attachment to the shoe, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s proverbial back. She’d just wanted to sit on the beech and air her feet in the cool air. Was that too much to ask?

Granted, Ottery St Catchpole wasn’t the worst of places to be. It did have a relaxed, quiet atmosphere to it; Hermione would have never felt this able to just sit still back in London. The pace of life was certainly slower in rural Devon, that was for sure.

There were a few shops dotted along the road that ran beside the beach, including a few cafes, a small village shop and the parish hall.

Thunk.

Hermione looked up. Her shoe had appeared on the sand beside her.

‘I’m guessing that’s yours?’

She turned her head.

A man was stood nearby. He was tall, with striking blue eyes and a mop of red hair. He had clearly just been in the sea, as he was wearing a wetsuit and had a surfboard under one arm.

‘I-yes, thank you!’

Hermione grabbed the shoe and quickly put it on.

‘Seems a strange thing to wear to the beach,’ said the man. ‘Most people wear sandals, not black high-heels.’

‘Well, I didn’t plan on being here,’ Hermione exclaimed. ‘I was supposed to be driving back to London now!’

‘Ah, big city type; say no more. Bye, then.’

And, before Hermione could respond, the man walked off.

Hermione stared after him, her mouth hanging open. What did he mean… “big city type”? How rude!

Gritting her teeth, she headed across the beach and up onto the street, tapping her shoes to get the sand out. As if to add insult to injury, the shoe that had been in the sea was now squeaking with every step she made. Hermione felt heat rise in her cheeks as she strode along.

As she walked along, she couldn’t help but notice an old building just across the road. It was at least a few decades old, and the wooden gate leading up to the front door was rotting slightly.

Ottery St Catchpole Dental Practice.

Hermione frowned. It was always sad seeing old dental practices like this, in places where the population was shrinking and there weren’t enough patients to keep a place open. Often, rural practices cost more money to keep going, despite a populace that still wanted to use them.

Sighing, Hermione continued up the road.

Deciding that what she probably needed was a nice coffee and a bite to eat, she entered the café.

It was fairly quiet, with only a few teenagers sitting around on the tables, as well as a couple of pensioners reading the paper.

Hermione walked over to the barista station.

‘One cappuccino, please,’ she said, bending over and rooting in her bag for her debit card. ‘No sugar.’

‘I thought I could hear squeaking; shoe hasn’t dried out yet, eh?’

Hermione’s head snapped up.

One familiar, redheaded face stared across the counter at her.

‘I… you!’ Hermione exclaimed. ‘What are you doing in here?’

‘Getting you a cappuccino, apparently,’ said the man, raising an eyebrow. ‘And my name is “Ron”, actually. Hang on a mo…’

He bustled around the counter, getting a mug and adjusting the settings on the coffee machine. Hermione stared at his back as he worked, her mouth hanging open slightly. She had never met someone so… straightforward. So relaxed and yet so utterly confident. Most people would have quailed under the look she had given, but this… Ron had taken it in his stride.

‘Er… thank you,’ Hermione said, feeling very awkward as Ron placed the cappuccino on the counter and she handed him the money. ‘For finding my shoe. It was very kind of you.’

‘Actually, it washed up on my board,’ Ron said, wiping his hands on a towel and leaning against the counter. ‘But… thanks.’

‘I… I don’t find it easy talking to people.’

‘Really? I never would have guessed.’

‘Look, I’m trying to be nice here and you’re just-’

But Ron had started chuckling.

‘You talk easier when you’re not overthinking what you say,’ he grinned. ‘My brother Percy is much the same.’

Hermione stared at him for a second, before bursting into laughter herself. Maybe it was just the relief from the stress that had been present throughout her entire time in Devon thus far but, once she started laughing, she couldn’t stop.

‘I take it you needed a laugh.’

‘Yes,’ Hermione said, smiling. ‘I’ve had a pretty rough day; I was supposed to just drive to Plymouth and then back.’

‘Our small village not exactly what you were hoping for?’

Hermione paused.

‘I… I thought so, but now I’m starting to have second thoughts. It’s… well, it’s a very peaceful place, isn’t it.’

Ron nodded.

‘Er… I’m Hermione, by the way,’ she continued. ‘I know your name, it makes sense for you to know mine.’

‘Hermione, eh…’ Ron said, slowly. ‘Why does that name sound familiar?’

‘Er… my parents loved Shakespeare,’ Hermione said, feeling heat rise in her cheeks again. ‘There’s a character in “A Winter’s Tale”-’

‘Queen Hermione!’ Ron exclaimed, before letting out a bark for laughter. ‘It suits you!’

‘What… you think I’m prissy?’

‘What?’ Ron said, looking concerned at her sudden change of tone. ‘No; I mean… well, it’s the chess piece.’

‘Chess?’

‘Yeah; the queens the most important piece on the chessboard, after all.’

‘You… you think I’m important?’

‘Everyone’s important.’

‘That… that was from Doctor Who.’

‘And it’s very true.’

Ron smiled, his mouth quirking into a lop-sided grin.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat.

‘I… I suppose it is. Er… bye, then.’

‘See you round,’ Ron said, smiling. ‘Queen Hermione.’

Biting down on her lip to prevent herself giggling, Hermione smiled at him one last time and walked out the door.

What a sweet young man, she thought, smiling to herself as she waited for her cappuccino to cool to a drinking temperature. It wasn’t often that she met people that she could talk to so easily, and certainly not men her own age. And… well, certainly not men so attractive. There was no denying it. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d ever see him again.

Wrapped in her thoughts, Hermione came to find herself stood in front of the old dental practice. She stood there for a good while, sipping her cappuccino.

‘No good, my dear; it’s closing down soon.’

Hermione turned. A lady was stood a few feet away; she looked about seventy and had a distinct Devon accent.

‘It’s closing down?’

‘Yes,’ replied the lady. ‘We’re a small village, you see. Most youngsters have to move to Plymouth for work. Or up country. Including the dentist who used to work here; they moved out earlier this week. Shame, really.’

Hermione nodded in understanding. She had heard that this was becoming commonplace in many rural areas across Britain.

Then… a thought struck her.

‘Well… I am a dentist,’ she said, without thinking. ‘I’ll take it over.’

‘Oh, really?’

Hermione jumped slightly.

Luna Lovegood had appeared nearby, jumping up and down in apparent excitement.

‘That’s wonderful; I’ve always wanted to move back home!’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands. ‘Dad will be so pleased!’

Hermione didn’t have the heart to tell Luna that she hadn’t planned on employing her as an assistant, but Luna seemed to have already decided on this herself.

But… well, as Hermione found Luna frustrating, she couldn’t find it in her heart to actually dislike the younger woman. She was kind, and sweet. She wasn’t the easiest person to understand, but Hermione appreciated her nonetheless.

So… maybe it wasn’t the worst idea to have Luna as a dental assistant here. After all, she was a local. And it wasn’t as if Hermione made friends very easily.

‘You’re really going to take the practice over?’

The old lady was smiling widely.

‘Er… yes,’ Hermione replied. ‘People need a dentist, after all.’

‘You’re not wrong.’

Hermione turned.

Ron was walking over from the café. He was wearing a pair of work overalls and a white t-shirt. Hermione tried not to think about how his smile seemed to reflect the sunlight, or how the t-shirt seemed to fit him very well.

‘Although the practice needs a lot of work done to it,’ he continued, not seeming to notice Hermione’s staring. ‘The front gate and fence for a start, the woodworm, the doorways, the disabled access…’

‘Do you have a contractor here?’ Hermione asked. ‘It would probably cost a lot to have people come to the village from Plymouth-’

‘You’re looking at him,’ Ron said.

‘You?’

Ron turned to look at her.

‘Always the tone of surprise with you, isn’t it?’

‘I… sorry,’ Hermione mumbled. ‘But, it is a big job and you’re hardly qualified as a contractor for all the skills needed-’

Thwop.

A long chain of registration cards tumbled out of Ron’s wallet. Hermione goggled, leaning in closer.

‘Interior decorating, electrician, carpenter… even plumbing?’

Ron retracted the chain of cards and popped his wallet back into the pocket of his work trousers.

‘I’ll consider myself hired, then.’

Ron opened the rotting gate and walked up the path, pulling out a notebook from his pocket as he did so. A short click of the door (he apparently had the key) and he was walking inside. Hermione stared after him, mouth hanging open.

‘I best be off,’ said the elderly lady, patting Hermione on the arm and then smiling at Luna. ‘Nice to see you again, Luna; I’ll let the village council know about the dental practice. They’ll be thrilled!’

As the lady doddered away, Hermione leaned in and spoke to Luna.

‘Luna… I know I seemed confident earlier, but… are you sure we’ll be able to run a clinic all by ourselves?’

‘Of course,’ Luna replied, smiling. ‘Besides… you’re got Ron to rely on.’

The look that appeared in Luna’s eyes was entirely too knowing for Hermione’s liking. She felt her cheeks flush.

‘I’m… I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,’ she stammered. ‘Besides, I’ve only just met him-’

‘Oy!’ Ron called, from inside the practice. ‘This is your practice, aren’t you gonna look at what needs fixing?’

‘Er… yes; hang on!’

Trying to stop her brain overthinking what Luna had just implied, Hermione hurried up the path and up to the door.

Which was when her foot slipped on a loose paving slab.

She began to tumble forward, but was stopped halfway by-

Ron’s chest.

The redhead steadied her against himself, putting his arms around her to prevent her slipping down any further.

‘Whoa,’ he said. ‘You okay?’

Thump

Hermione felt her breath hitch in her throat and heat rise in her cheeks. She could hear Ron’s heartbeat through his chest, and his scent -a curious mix of pumpkin, aftershave and pin- filled her nostrils.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Luna smiled, her eyes filling with a knowing look as she turned and walked away, leaving a flustered Ron and Hermione well alone. They would work it out soon enough.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading, everyone! This will be the last drabble I will add to this collection, as I've found myself losing interest in writing HP fanfic. This concept was based on the K-Drama "Hometown Cha Cha Cha", so -if you think that you like this idea- I'd highly recommend the show out. The title of this fic is a reference to the song by The Spitfires (a band that I adore but who sadly broke up earlier this year due to reduced ticket sales during the Covid pandemic) and I'd highly recommend checking both the song and the band out.

I will still be posting fics; they just won't be for HP anymore (at least, not after I finish my Discworld-HP crossover fic). Thanks again for all the wonderful comments this drabble collection has recieved over the years; it means so much to me.

Love,

H&M

#romione #ronmione #ron/hermione #hermione/ron #ron x hermione #hermione x ron #harry potter fanfiction #a hp post? from h&m? in this economy? #romione fanfiction #romione fanfic #hermione granger #ron weasley #luna lovegood #romione drabble #drabble #hometown cha cha cha

[pa-stella]

Flufftober 2022 - 03.10

Prompts | @flufftober

Title: When we were unafraid Fandom: Hypnosis Mic Characters: Kuko and Ichiro Prompt: Thick as Thieves Words count: 285 Contents: G-rated, NB era.

“How many years have you known each other?” The young man asked while poking at the okonomiyaki on the hotplate in the center of the table. “I mean, Ichiro, why didn’t you introduce us sooner?”

Ichiro chuckled and put a hand on Kuko’s shoulder. “We met a few months ago!”

The small group of friends couldn’t believe that response and Kuko didn’t really blame them.

Since the day he and Ichiro had sparred, they became inseparable. There was an unexplainable harmony between them, a connection that made everything easier. A glance was enough to understand each other. A little nod of the head and their next move would be clear. They could be surrounded by ugly mugs, but they’d never lose that natural coordination. One of them punched, the other guarded. One of them had a question, the other had the answer. 

It was something Kuko had only seen in action comics where the protagonist would always find a sudden friend to continue the journey with, a companion who would support him. That’s what they were for each other. 

“And you’re lucky I stumbled on you!” Kuko laughed. “You would be lost without me!”

“You’re probably right.” He nodded before smiling. His mismatched eyes were telling more than what he was saying and Kuko struggled to look away.

“Be careful, Kuko!” One of Ichiro’s friends warned him. “He’s using his sweet eyes to keep you here in Bukuro!”

“Uff, stop ruining my plan…” Ichiro mumbled and started to cut the okonomiyaki for everyone.

“It’s true that I’ll go back to Nagoya sooner or later, but our friendship will continue!”

“You promise?”

“I promise, bro!”

“Enough with the bromance, you two!” The friend complained. “Let’s eat!”

#flufftober2022 #day 3 #hypnosis mic #ichiro yamada #kuko harai #g rated #bad ass temple #buster bros #writing? in this economy? #hypmic #super short drabble today

[mathcs]

EXTRA NOTES FOR " 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 : 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇 "

soon after the depicted event takes place, it becomes widely known as 'the helioborg incident’. this ultimately resulted in the near total destruction of the facility as well as the loss of all spyrite research material known to be stored there. the exact number of casualties are unclear, and several people are presumed deceased or have gone missing since. the area is currently off limits to civilians.

information regarding the involvement of jude mathis regarding this incident: it is known to authorities that he was the cause of helioborg’s destruction, reported as “an act of heinous terrorism by someone once to be trusted” to the elympios public. when the incident took place, he was present at the site and acted alone. any additional motivations are currently unknown or confidential. known to select authorities only, he is currently presumed alive and wanted for his crimes at the highest level of priority (reported deceased for the purposes of calming the public).

further persons of interests to capture and detain seem to be anyone that is known to have worked with him on his spyrite research. most are currently missing.

with the dire and panicked state of the world in mind, some have turned to finding ways to counter and control the gradual but deadly release of mysterious miasma. survival has become priority for many as the situation continues to worsen.

due to the absence of key individuals, tensions between rieze maxia and elympios soared to dangerous new heights overnight and are rapidly deteriorating. currently, along with the early stages of war, development of new weapons are soon to be complete. among these is something to be used with spyrite.

spirius corporation, struggling to remain operational as they used to, continues concentrating its efforts toward another sector of research behind the scenes: namely the manipulation of fractured dimensions, and the possibility of long term refuge inside them. this remains largely unknown to the public.

the complete and apparent loss of spyrite research have led certain experts to estimate that, given the severe lack of resources, funds, public and political interest, as well as the dangerous instability of international relations, it could take at least ten years from now to develop basic functioning spyrite models under watching eyes. this estimate, however, completely excludes the potential of spyrite use as a weapon.

#headcanon . #/ le extra for anyone! and me bc the brain isnt done spinning yet. just stuff that could be true about the setting #for whenever i use this verse beyond the drabble point at least #in that case: j.ude (alive?!?!) the X marked criminal again let’s GOOOhahhahgdi #and probably sticking around said ten years later to finish tf out of his research finally (if he and the world survives.) #X2 bad end the movie part 2 of 9289: the economy is in shambles. probably war. everyone else ded unless a miracle. #𝒗 : xillia 2、a message from the end ／ bad!end

[arc0n]

I want to be a filmmaker, an actor, a writer, an artist, I want to be so many things yet I’ll never decide which and will continue in this endless cycle of anxiety and uncertainty and will eventually amount to nothing and that scares the shit out of me

#minor crisis #not live laugh loving in this economy #uncertainty #Drabble #art #writing #media

[notroosterbradshaw]

about: just some smut to fend off jetlag. i love sleepy Bradley, I make no excuses that I feel he does his best work in the early hours of the day. This was supposed to be a drabble… it’s not anymore. Sorry.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: nsfw 18+, language, pure fluff, smut.

masterlist.

The morning after the night before when Bradley met your family for the first time, you'd flown across the world to surprise your dad for his birthday and really, it luckily coincided with Bradley's time off. When you mentioned heading home for your old man's special day that usually kicked off your family's holiday season, you almost fell out of your seat when he said maybe it was time he met the fam face-to-face, not just making small talk over FaceTime. It almost didn’t seem fair that he was subjected to meeting everyone this way, but alas… here you were the next morning, jet lag kicking in while wrapped protectively in Bradley’s strong, golden arms and washed in the relief your family fucking loved him. You weren't overly surprised. 

Bradley's quiet, unassuming charm was just who your mum wanted you to end up with, he was into golf and surfing, so your dad and brothers thought he was the bee's knees. Your sister on the other hand... 

You had to fend her off more than you would have liked. You were confident in your relationship with Bradley, knowing he'd never allow anything to happen. "You're coming across a little desperate," you hissed after one or two drinks, which mortified her, and she apologised, admitting she was just happy to finally get to meet the guy who'd swept you off your feet. "Yes, my feet," you reminded her. When she pointed out how possessive you sounded, you didn't deny it. But she got it and gave you space for the rest of the evening. 

Ahh, sisters. 

Bradley felt your body writhe in the gentlest of movements against his and he sighed. Sleep hadn’t come easy for either of you and compounded with the food and booze you’d indulged in the day before, neither of you slept much. “You okay, sweetheart?” he whispered at God-knows-what-o’clock. 

“What time is it?” You asked softly.

“I dunno, baby. Sun is barely rising,” he admitted. “Can’t hear a peep in the house.”

Which was nice because yesterday was intense. Everyone was so excited to meet your new American boyfriend (fairly, it’d been about eight months, give or take with a few deployments), the incredibly handsome navy pilot whom you’d met one evening at a naval bar while travelling. You’d caught his eyes behind his sunglasses while he played the piano, the crowd around him as swept away with him as you were. The first half-smile in your direction, as he sang, had done you over in a way not one single person on the planet had before. 

He'd charmed you instantly. He still charmed you constantly. 

“Did you get any sleep?” you asked, biting back a yawn.

“Not really,” he peppered tender kisses into your shoulder blade and smiled into your skin as you pressed back into him, the oh-so-quiet moan made for his ears only waking him from his dreaded fog as well. “I’ll try and get a kip somewhere today. That fuckin’ flight murdered me.” 

“You were happy to fly economy,” you muttered. “I know you’re used to tight quarters, but fuck Bradley. It was 15 hours." 

“I know, I know I fucked up. I was looking at upgrades overnight. I’ll use my discount and stuff; we can do it flying home.”

“You sure?”

“Sue me for wanting to save a buck,” he sighed, with a tired, deep chuckle. “Flight was so full; people may as well have been sitting on the wings.”

“It’s Christmas. People travel.”

“You don't say,” he affectionately gripped your waist, rolling you to him and kissed you. “Good morning, I think," he nuzzled your nose against his and asked if you wanted some water or anything.

You shook your head, rolling back and snuggling into him as he adjusted his arms around you again, his nose buried in your hair. "I think Dad is gonna expect you for at least nine holes today." 

"I think so, yeah. Grill me and make sure I'm good enough for his little girl.” He murmured and if he was honest, he was the teeniest bit nervous. He’d never really been in relationships long enough to meet families… and who would he introduce anyone to, except for Mav?

"I think you'll be fine."

"He probably wouldn't be if he knew what a deviant I've turned his smart, beautiful baby girl into.”

You giggled quietly as you could feel the soft ends of his moustache curve into a smirk against the nape of your neck. "He'd send you back on the first flight to LA."

"I would believe that," he said softly. 

"I think yesterday went really well, Bradley," you confided quietly to him.

"You think? I was on my very best behaviour," he teased you.

"Yes, you were," you admitted. Not that he ever wasn't. Bradley was instilled with a remarkable set of manners. He was chivalrous and courteous to a fault, incredibly sweet and at times, pensive, even shy. Almost make believe that you were lucky enough to share his time. You wriggled back against him, and you could feel the hard-on straining through his boxer briefs. "Down, boy." 

"Can't help it," he sighed. "You know what you do to me with that ass. I know what you want. You're not that transparent."

You bit back your pleased smile as his wandering hands travelled down your side, fingertips toying with the hem of his old Navy tee that was now your bed shirt. At home, you were nude sleepers. At your parents' home during the holidays? You showed decorum and respect and you both hated it, preferring skin-on-skin of the other but alas, anyone could walk in at any time. 

“Have a thought about how we might be able to fuck this jetlag off…” 

“Oh, yeah?” at this point, you’d do anything and with Bradley’s travel for work, you hoped maybe he might have some insight. You had planned to just power through and try not to be the world’s most exhausted asshole. 

"You just move your thigh a little this way..." he murmured, his palm cupping your hamstring and you pressed back into him, grinning softly. “And I just slide up in here – ”

“Confident of you, don’t you think?”

“You’re always wet for me,” he whispered against your skin. “Unless you deny it.”

“Never…” you told him, reaching back to wrap an arm around his strong neck. “I just can't keep it down with you. Why didn’t you convince me to get the AirBnb?”

He loved how vocal you were during sex. Your moans, the hisses, the way you'd bite your lip when you were so close. That groan as you came, or the little squeal when you were too sensitive was burned into his brain as his favourite sounds in the world. 

"Just lemme hold you then, it's okay, sweetheart," he grumbled. “I’ll live if you can.” 

“Asshole,” you muttered as he chuckled. 

“Do you want a blowjob?” You nervously offered, turning back to him and he looped your thigh over his hip and perched you above him with such little effort on his behalf - you loved how strong he was but you knew what was waiting for you, Bradley made no secret he was turned on and you loved that you were able to have him on a knife-edge at all times. 

The one per cent, he’s told you once before. 

You’re so sweet to him as you slowly dragged your hand into the waistband of his boxer briefs, revealing more and more skin, cock springing free, slapping against his toned, tanned Adonis belt. Long, thick and dripping with precum already and he almost blushed at how eager he was.

“I’ll never say no,” he replied, “And I know you might be uncomfortable here. Your dad is right across the hall, baby."

“But my daddy is right here…” you immediately corrected him, and he smiled darkly to himself. You didn't use that term lightly, you couldn’t nfi fed to him he had the ability to bring out your innermost feral when you least expected it and he would do his utmost to encourage it (if you were comfortable). 

“Jesus,” his head was swirling, trying to keep calm and not blow his load the second you bared your tongue to him but there was absolutely nothing sweet about it. He was a preening mess when you went down on him. The night you'd told him you weren't overly experienced in blow jobs was the greatest night of his life, coaching you through what he liked and watching you perfect your generous technique time and time again. 

These days, you loved giving Bradley head. He gave you confidence, he made you feel sexy and not like it was only about him on the receiving end. He’s whispered and encouraged, and when it all got too much, he told you he was close. He was neither here nor there on the whole spit or swallow thing… until you and your preference but he was never left empty-handed.

"Shh," you hissed. "Not a sound." 

That one thing you did for him that absolutely made him come undone. And he'd bury his face in your pussy all day if you allowed him to show you how fucking grateful, he was for all the pleasure you presented him. Your sweet, tight wetness that he would eagerly drown himself in if you’d let him. 

Your honeyed tongue delicately tasted the flawless head of his cock, lapping up the precum as Bradley's eyes rolled back into his head and his big hands reached to knot into your hair as you went to work, swirling your tongue and looking up with your big, scheming eyes, knowing you had him at his most precarious. 

He was a weapon in his training, his mind and body were always primed to do what was asked of him, but you were the exception and it scared and excited him.

He could feel himself getting so close to painting the back of that beautiful mouth, and while it pained him to say it, the way your eyes softened told him he’d made the right choice. “Come on, baby, I want you.” 

You gently pulled away and asked, “You don’t want me to finish?”

“No, I wanna fuck, baby. Watch you lose control.” 

“Okay,” you said, your soft hand trading with your warm mouth to tenderly pump and tease him. 

“Gimme a sec. I don't have condoms close,” he whispered. “They're in my luggage.”

"Just pull out, sweetheart," you enticed him, wanting to feel all of him. It was so infrequent you fucked without protection, and of course, you both preferred it that way but after a pregnancy scare (or not, neither of you was really sure) a few months back, you'd both decided to stop tempting fate and ensuring there was a stash of condoms at his place, your place... the goddamn Bronco – Bradley understood that it was your body and you didn’t want to be on the pill. A condom was the least he could do, and he knew it. 

Bradley helped you move up his body and rest you above him. "Are you sure?" he kissed you, your gleaming teeth lightly stinging into his bottom lip with an affectionate nip. 

“I trust you,” you told him. "Cum where you need...”

Truth be told, he wanted to cum deep, but he licked back a wet smile and he moved to his knees to pull his navy tee over your head, bearing your beautiful breasts to him, full, round, nipples begging for attention. “On your back, baby,” he urged, guiding you under him, anticipating how wet you were for him, legs splaying open unashamed. He rested the head of his cock on your weeping cunt, his fingers spreading your bare lips and sweeping your slick across your clit, fascinated by that little peep of desperation from you. Your head fell back against the pillows, bliss sweeping through you as he sweetly pressed one finger into you. “Drippin’,” he reported, pressing in another finger and his thumb rubbing tenderly against your throbbing clit. “Gonna gush for me?” 

You probably would, Bradley’s ability to drag absolutely everything out of you blew your mind each time. “Need your cock. Fill me up, Bradley.” 

Pushing in, one delicious inch by delicious inch, licking his full lips as your back curved to take him as deeply as possible. He buried his face in your breasts, holding one in his calloused palm, eyes fluttering closed as he traced, left wet, open-mouthed kissed and tenderly bit the other, and the groan you let you made him clamp his palm over your mouth. “You’re so wet, baby,” he stared deeply into your eyes as he evened his breath with the first few rolls of his slender hips. "But you're gonna wake your parents if you don’t control yourself."

"Let them fuckin' hear," you muttered behind your hand (you’d die if they heard you though) as he chuckled and began his ruthless assault on your senses, one thrust at a time. 

"You're too good to me," Bradley reminded you in disbelief.  

"All for you," you confided, as you watched the beads of sweat break across his brow as you dug your nails into his well-worked traps, willingly knowing it would leave a mark courtesy of your fresh manicure. You raised your hips to meet his deep, plunging thrusts, fucking into you strong and deep. He felt incredible, you don't think anyone had loved on you as Bradley Bradshaw could. So thorough, and never one to leave you hanging. 

Too long, too sore? He'd pause and tenderly withdraw to hold you, reassuring you that it was fine, and your comfort was paramount. Too sensitive after coming too hard, he'd give you time to recover, finding other ways to bring you pleasure.

It was nice to be considered in your relationship, in your sex life especially. In the past, you'd been made to feel like a machine, if you didn't cum, partners still could, and you'd just deal with it. For a long time, that stuck with you and having someone consider you like Bradley would almost seem too good to be true at the start. 

But that consideration never lapsed. He was make-believe and you fucking hoped if this man and everything he brought to you was a dream that you’d never, ever wake up. 

Desperate to keep himself controlled, Bradley reached for the headboard of your old bed, gripping it for dear life as he tried so damn hard to avoid coming. He loved fucking you raw, and since birth control was completely your choice, you two had to stop playing this dangerous game. Because one day? It would beat you both.

"I need to cum, Bradley," you whined to him as he nodded, chewing his lower lip, and putting your delicate fingers in your mouth, not losing his rhythm. He knew. He knew how close you were. 

"Lemme see you touch yourself, baby. Get those fingers - " he gasped as you clenched around him. "Get 'em nice and wet and play with that sweet, tight pussy. Lemme see you fall apart.”

Before, language like that would embarrass you, but with Bradley, it only spurred you on. It was incredible the ways he’d helped you grow and mature as a friend, partner and lover. As instructed, and in the low early morning light, Bradley’s breath hitched, watching you touch yourself and you couldn’t help it, the beat of his cock against your g-spot, your fingers pressing rough circles into your clit and you started to come. 

“Yes, baby. Yes,” he urged, moving his mouth to your ear, whispering his sweet encouragement. “You feel so good, just a little mo – ” he forced his mouth against yours, kissing your pleasure to him, to keep the noise down. He wrapped his hand under your hip, lifting your waist to push harder into you as you trembled below him, your pussy clutching his cock, spasming as he shuddered against your lips. “Yes, baby.”

“Jesus, Bradley, fuck me,” you begged as his hips speed up like a piston, thrusting hard into your swollen, sensitive pussy, his hand clutching yours away from your strained clit and pressing intensely in your place, hoping to drag your orgasm out and as you fell, lifeless, back against the squishy pillows, pussy pulsating, Bradley grunted low he was coming and after his final few thrusts, he quickly withdrew and unloaded, stroking himself until he was spent, pearly ribbons of cum decorating your belly and breasts. 

He collapsed beside you, taking your cheeks in his face and kissing you wildly. “I love you. I love you, baby,” he kissed you again, and though you were spent, you returned his affections, because truly… you loved Bradley Bradshaw with your entire being. It was going to take a lot to change that. “Are you okay?” he asked, chest still heaving as he breathed, his pointer finger tracing through the mess he made on you.

“I’m good, sweetheart,” you assured him as he gave you one last, final kiss.

“Think that helped with your jetlag?” he teased.

“Makes me want another round,” you admitted as he chuckled and raised an eyebrow. 

“Of course you do,” he pressed a kiss into your pulse and lifted his lips back to yours, holding you close and just like horny teenagers, enjoying making out for a few moments in the afterglow. “Where’s that shirt gone?” he asked, peering over the side of the bed, and cleaning you up. “Jackson Pollack painting here.”

“Be less proud,” you told him as he snorted.

“Yes, ma’am,” he pressed another kiss to your lips. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Perfect, but let me go pee,” you whispered as Bradley kissed you long and deep, he nodded into the kiss but was not quite ready to leave you leave him. 

“Go, clean up, baby,” he helped you up from the bed, your legs precarious and meandering like Bambi. “Careful,” he sighed, wistfully. But he knew it already, you were thoroughly fucked, just how he liked it. 

A few hours later and thankfully, a few more hours of sleep, your alarm woke you, the sun much higher in the sky and the heat of the day starting to rise. You’d showered and told him to come down when he was ready, you’d help your Mum with some brekky.

“You want eggs?”

“Anything,” Bradley admitted. “Famished.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” you cupped his face in your palms and kissed him lightly. “Don’t rush.”

“Okay,” he gave a small grin but didn’t much feel like lingering. After a quick shower, he dressed, annoyed he didn't pack any golf gear, at minimum the shoes that you gave him grief for every time he wore them, but maybe he'd treat himself and buy some at the course today. He rifled through his bag, clutching the velvet box in his palm tightly, convinced more than ever that this was real, this was happening and soon, he'd hope to have you wearing his mother's engagement ring too. 

Slapping on his CVN-71 cap, he knew you went a bit feral when he perched it backward. May as well leave you with good thoughts while he was out and about, asking your old man for your hand on the golf course. And if it went badly, it was also something to identify him when the authorities found him if your dad said no. 

#this is barely edited #just pure unadultered smuff #rooster #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster imagine #rooster fanfic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fic #i don't use 'daddy' lightly #please see the comedy in it #i just had thots ok? #notroosterbradshaw #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster fluff #rooster smut #rooster x you #top gun fanfiction

[thatwildnya]

venti when griffin wifey disappears to nest

The anemo archon is freaking out after his wife has suddenly vanished without a trace. After hours of searching with the help of the Favonius Knights and Diluc he discovers she has made a nest in Dvalin's home to lay a clutch of eggs.

TW: none

notes: the format this is written in what we've named a headcanon drabble mix. it will start with hcs and have a drabble at the end or multiple sprinkled throughout it. these will be tagged as headcanon drabble mix, hc drabble mix, or [fandom]hcdm.

chitters and nickers

Wild: I've started playing genshin recently and it's been on my mind a lot. Decided to write somethin' on a whim. Might make more with the same prompt if this one gets a lot of attention.

nya: i wanna squish venti's cheeks

wifey's bird cat mix

european wildcat, white dove, 7 eggs

very likely this was not planned, Venti’s alcoholic tendencies often cause him to forget protection so it was only a matter of time it caught up to him

unexpected pregnancies with female griffins can be absolutely heart attack inducing due to their instincts kicking in immediately once their body realizes what’s happening. bird brains go into maximum overdrive and once it decides where it wants to nest they’re making a beeline to claim said spot and going builder mode asap.

so imagine the archon’s panic when you’re nowhere to be found after being sick and acting weird all week. poor guy is zooming all over the city alongside the knights and Diluc to find you. once he’s combed through the city he uses his godly powers to call for Dvalin’s assistance. but there’s no answer.

Equation: wifey acting odd + wifey missing + dragon friend not responding. Conclusion: something very bad happened. Solution: it is time for panic at the anemo.

shouts at some random pedestrian passing by to gather the knights and meet him at the lair. unfortunately he mistook the stranger as a knight them self due to wearing similar clothes. and on top of that this person was a foreigner. but he’s gone before the misunderstanding can be cleared. now hubby is thought to be missing. what an eventful day for Mondstadt.

creates a crater when he lands outside his friends home. said friend sticks his head out from the crumbling tower with blurry eyes. what was all this racket for? this is the second time he’s been so rudely awoken today! bro already lost hours of sleep from his wife barging in at 1AM to nest and lay eggs. wifey did what now.

the dragon’s grumpiness dissolves once the situation has been cleared. in fact he was laughing in the end. the image of a large number of humans scurrying around in search of a god’s wife thinking the worst when in actuality she’s enjoying baby time in arguably the safest place in the nation is hilarious!

but that’s not important right now you laid eggies sired by him he’s gonna be a dad! this twink of a god can’t contain his excitement. how many did you lay? when will they hatch? how big are they? have they developed enough to be able to hear his voice? can he hold them? too bad you can’t answer, doves can’t mimic sounds and you aren’t reverting back to human for a while.

has no problem with you nesting in Dvalin’s home. in fact he’s all for it. very few humans and monsters dare to intrude on the territory of the anemo dragon once called Storm Terror. no worries here! so long you had no issues he’d stand by your decision! y’know what they say, a mother knows best!

you are never left alone Venti makes sure there’s always one person he trusts to watch over you and your growing kids. if he could he’d be right there in the nest with his family 24/7. the issue is, however, that you’re the breadwinner of the family. and griffin moms to be won’t leave the eggs alone until they’ve hatched. not for food, water, nothing. avian feline mom’s have wills of steel.

it isn’t long before Venti realizes the problem. kids are not cheap to raise. (especially in this economy) so for the first time in history, the anemo archon begins the treacherous and traumatizing journey of job hunting. it was a grueling quest, one of hardships and difficulty like no other. his confidence and ego took many serious blows, wounds inflicted upon them so deep it was feared he might never recover. there were plenty of times he almost gave up, but he persevered! his family was counting on him, he couldn’t give up. and with the power of love and friendship, he was able to slay- jk he just became a part time knight and takes on quick jobs spread across his nation.

this is quite the change to his usual routine but it’s all worth it. every time he returns to his recently grown family is all the motivation he needs. can’t wait for the day he’ll be greeted by a chorus of chirps after a long day of work.

when he isn’t working he’s always near the nest, if he isn’t in it. and more likely than not he’s by a fire cooking up something for you to eat. he’s glad you’ll eat if food is in reach. man’s on his way to becoming a 5 star chef with how much he’s expanding his culinary skills.

when is baby time? it’s always baby time in this house. and everyone is invited to baby time. can’t help but squeal internally whenever you get excited at visitors. leaving the nest just to gently tug them over so they could see the eggs will always be the cutest thing you’ll do to him. how can he not smile when your feathered face shines with pride everytime you present his kids?

finally, the day comes. he’s in the middle of aiding Diluc unload supplies for Angel’s Share when the Mondstadt citizens are given a heart attack by Dvalin suddenly swooping overhead shouting for him to get his butt back to you. get ready folks, it’s time for round 2 of panic at the anemo!

adding a new crater in Dvalin's lawn he runs to your side with heaving lungs all winded and worried. but you seem completely fine? and so do the babies, albeit two are shivering from the chillness of the ruins and being wet having just hatched… wait a minute-

Did you really have to disappear like that? Especially since you’ve been acting strange the past week?

Your side of the bed was cold when he woke up and he thought you had already left for work. The day goes on as normal, some bard performances here, archon duties there, wine shenanigans, nothing out of the ordinary. Until your boss shows up demanding to know where you are just as he was about to take a post lunch nap.

Okay, there’s no need to panic yet. Maybe your boss forgot you weren’t supposed to be in today? Nope, it’s the middle of the week. Maybe you were late getting back from lunch? What do you mean you haven’t been in all day. Were you scheduled to work offsite? No? Okay, now it's time to panic.

He’s fearing the worst as he and the others search for you. His true identity may be a secret to most but that unfortunately wasn’t true for a certain large powerful group that had already stolen from him twice. He hopes this isn’t their doing.

Thankfully the search doesn’t last long. Once the city has been combed through he flies off to get help from Dvalin. His friend can’t help but laugh when told what was going on. That’s when it’s revealed you’ve been in his lair the whole time.

Just as the dragon said, you’ve taken residence in his lair. Showing up in the middle of the night without warning to build a nest. So that’s where all the missing clothes, blankets, and pillows went. Used as cushions for the nest you’ve built in the middle of the night. The nest, might I add, looks very comfortable. You’re loafing self emits a blissful aura, wings drooping lazily at your side and talons tucked under your chest.

Doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Opts for a third option to beeline to you for a hug. But there will be no hugs for him. Dvalin manages to grab him before he can take a few steps.

“I would advise against this approach, Barbatos.” the anemo dragon warns while the archon flails in his talons whining, “less you desire a delay in meeting your offspring.”

The bard freezes at his words. Offspring? Does he mean you were…?

Venti is plopped down a few steps away from you, this time waiting for your acknowledgement before coming close. You are more than happy to have him there. Thank you Dvalin for intercepting, you’d be on guard if you’d seen your husband suddenly running full speed at you.

You raise your wings slightly, doing mini flaps as you call out to him in your beautiful avian voice with enthusiasm. You are practically vibrating in excitement as your mate comes to join you in your nest made of natural and man made materials. The same could be said for him.

“Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see!” Venti claps impatiently, ready to see the incubating life underneath your feathers. His eyes somehow manage to get even wider as you sit up. You puff up your chest feathers, head raised high with pride as you reveal the seven eggs you’d laid hours ago.

Venti’s eyes are sparkling with happy tears. Head in hands as he leans forward on his elbows, he studies his growing babies in awe. It pleased him to no end that the shells were decorated in the colors of anemo. If that didn’t scream who sired these eggs then he didn’t know what would.

Hand slightly reaching out, he had intended to wait for the okay like before. But you were offended he had the audacity to think he had to get permission to touch what he had helped to create. And you were going to make your feelings very clear.

Without warning you lunge forward. Small beak clamping on his shirt to jerk him over the edge. The bard lets out a startled yelp, face planting into your wing. Despite being a combination of smaller species of the feline and avian family, you were still quite strong.

“Ow ow ow, was that really necessary love dove?” He rubs his nose. Beak snaps are your reply, pouting at him to hurry up. Your impatience was so great he was denied the option to shake out his hat of feathers and twigs, getting robbed of his head wear. Okay he gets the memo sheesh!

The remainder of the evening is spent snuggled in that nest. Songs of humans and birds are heard late into the night, the voice of a dragon chiming in at times. Peace befalls the land of anemo.

Until it’s shattered by a frantic legion of knights still searching for their god and his wife hours later.

~ time skip yay ~

Venti sobs, clutching his bundle of joy to his chest. It had been nearly half an hour since his firstborn had entered the world yet somehow the tears kept flowing. No matter how hard he tried, the tears wouldn’t halt. But could you really blame him?

“You’re going to hyperventilate at this rate. It’s a wonder you haven’t already.”

“I-I-I *sniffle* can’t h-hel- *sob* help i-it!” he hugs his firstborn closer, blurry gaze never leaving his child’s face. “Sh-she-she’s *hiccup* s-so beau- *sniffle* beautiful!” the dragon rolled his eyes. How much longer did he have to listen to his crying?

“Get a hold of yourself. Your hatchlings won’t benefit if both parents are unable to assist due to being unconscious.”

Venti gives a final sniffle before tilting his head up in an attempt to stop the tears. He blinks rapidly, steadying his breath. A quick wipe of the sleeve and it’s back to staring.

He wanted to see every little thing she did. His perfect little feathered treasure.

The hatchling had somehow managed to sleep through his whole cry fest. Cozily wrapped in a quilt and blissfully resting from her first big hurdle. Not even a day old and she had already passed the most important milestone of her life, breaking the shell that had protected her as she grew.

He quickly wiped his eyes again. He’d cried enough today.

Suddenly she yawned, beak opening wide and talons outstretching. Eyes blinking open, she looks up at her father’s puffy face. Venti smiles warmly at her, his own eyes giving her loving slow blinks. His daughter returns the gesture.

She begins to wiggle in his hold, talons reaching to grab his shirt in an attempt to pull herself closer to his face. To save his daughter the trouble he lifts her closer. He chuckles as he nuzzles her face hearing her curious sniffs.

“Hello, little one,” he whispers quietly, planting a kiss on her forehead, “the winds welcome you into the world.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin hcs #genshin drabbles #wild’s writing #wild's genshin writing #genshin venti #genshin impact venti #genshin impact venti x reader #venti genshin impact #venti genshin impact x reader #venti x reader #venti x y/n #venti x you #venti headcanons #venti hcs #venti x reader drabble #venti x reader hcs #genshin impact x reader #genshin mondstadt #dvalin #genshin headcanon drabble mix #panic at the anemo #genshin x f!reader

[juuuulez]

📰 | part ten: capulet.

info: Carl Grimes x Saviour! Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers, gun violence, father figure! Negan, soooomeeee ooonneee has a crush, teenagers in love.

summary: You tussle with your emotions regarding Carl, whilst Grimes and co pay a surprise visit to the Sanctuary.

omg i’m on fire!!!!! cliffhanger ending……but also next chapter will be similarly juicy so don’t fret! also half-written a carl x reader oneshot/drabble i’ll post soon between chapters :P

i’m so glad you all love my saviour reader story because i am her she is me…….this series is my CHILD i will defend it with my life!

-> masterlist <-

You hadn’t been to Alexandria in, frankly, what felt like years.

It was actually just weeks.

With an alliance between Hilltop, the Kingdom, and Alexandria, things for the Saviours were trickier than ever. Most of the time Negan spent in his office, trying to decode the best play. You helped, of course, and were practically running yourself ragged trying to keep things together at the Sanctuary.

It felt like everyone knew what was happening. Or they expected it, were waiting for it. It irritated you to no end, that others would blatantly show their disbelief in your cause, in Negan’s cause.

And then there was Carl.

You missed him, which was weird. He had become a constant in your life, the arguing and fighting, the pushing and shoving. But now your relationship had crested into something else… and you didn’t hate it.

In fact, you quite enjoyed kissing Carl.

Not that you’d admit that. To him, to anyone. Nobody needed that amount of power over you.

“You can go to bed, doll.”

You looked up from your lap, where a book of supply schedules was scribbled down. You were seated on that long leather couch in Negan’s office, whilst he worked on god knows what. Hopefully a viable strategy.

“No, I’m fine.” You tell him, politely. Too politely.

Truth is, you were hanging on by a thread. But with no supplies from Alexandria, nor Hilltop, the situation at the Sanctuary was becoming dire. You were trying to figure out how to jig things around so that everyone could be satisfied, or maybe even rethinking the points system, making the imaginary economy more competitive.

“I’m serious,” Negan insists, “You don’t gotta be doin’ this shit. It’s below you.”

You roll your eyes, “Who’s gonna do it, then? Simon’s corpse?”

The sarcastic comment earns you a glare in return, which does make you feel a little bad. You’d watched the brawl firsthand, and had almost tried to help Negan, if not for Dwight holding you back. Either way, it didn’t matter, for Simon was eventually strangled to death.

Brutal, but fitting.

Maybe you were trying to fill that void. The line between right-hand man and teenage daughter was thinning.

Negan rose from his seat, coming over to stand in front of you. He didn’t even need to lean down, swiftly plucking the tattered notebook from your lap, to which you groaned and leaned back on the couch.

He inspected it, reading over the numbers and scrawled figures. “You’re doing this wrong.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should start making your wives do the bookkeeping.” You grumbled, laying down on the couch in defeat.

Negan tossed the notebook onto the coffee table, sitting on the couch opposite you. “Doubt they can count past ten.”

It was a terrible thing to say, but got a smile out of you. It was difficult to be in a good mood on so little sleep, so the tiniest hint of happiness was well appreciated.

“When will we go to Alexandria again?”

You tried not to sound too interested in the question, but couldn’t help yourself, and needed to ask. Not for Carl, just for supplies. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“Soon. Give it another week,” Negan confirmed, though his eyes said he knew something more. “Awfully interested in that shithole, aren’t you?”

This caused you to roll over, onto your side, so you could glare over at the older man. “We need that shithole to survive.”

There was a playful glint on Negan’s face, the words earning a small laugh from him. “Maybe you do. Bet you’re just itchin’ for your little cyclops.”

The joke causes you to bristle, irritation rising as you hoist yourself from the couch, making a play for the door. On such little sleep, you weren’t in the mood to entertain being teased.

But Negan stopped you, that grin still on his face. “Hey, c’mon, doll. You know I’m just tryin’ to rile you up.” He admits, coming to a stand.

The glare remains, but at least you stop your escape, instead just standing near the door with your arms crossed. You’d likely give some defensive retort, but Negan is already speaking again.

“Everyone has their first crush at some point. I’m just surprised it took you this long.”

“I don’t have a crush,” You practically snarl. “I’m not twelve years old.”

“Okay, sorry. Not a crush,” Negan approaches slowly, like you’ll run off again, though is pleased when you stand still. “Sounds like it’s past your bedtime.”

Your nose scrunches up, eyes narrowed in offence as he continues to treat you like a child. But you know he’s just making a point to tease you, judging by that stupid grin on his face, so you try not to react.

His hands bracket your arms, giving you a little spin so that you’re facing the door. But now you sigh, turning back around, unable to just drop this conversation all together.

“You don’t care?” You ask. “Like, if I did have a crush, you don’t even mind? Not that I do, I’m just… wondering.”

Negan smiles, finding your half-confession quite adorable. “That’s what kids do, darlin’. Besides, the boy’s got his head on straight. Certainly got more balls than his father.”

You look down at the floor, a little pensive. “I don’t have a crush on Carl.” You reiterate, standing your ground, trying to sound firm in order to convince the both of you.

He seems to get the hint, understanding that maybe you don’t even know what’s going on. “I know, doll. Don’t stress it too much.” Negan drops the subject, letting his arm encase your back for a small squeeze before letting you go. “Go get some rest.”

You muster up a little smile, finally accepting the offer and scampering back off to bed. After all, you were exhausted, despite that inherent need to make yourself useful. Supply counts could wait.

It was a comforting space, your bedroom, one you retreated to whenever things got overwhelming. It was filled with photos and trinkets, candy stashed away in the drawers, all the things you didn’t have when growing up. It was your space.

That night, you fell asleep weighing the severity of simply going to Alexandria yourself. You passed out a few minutes into debating what transportation to take.

Fortunately, or, probably unfortunately, that wasn’t necessary.

For Alexandria had come to you.

Gunfire was a familiar sound to wake up to. Usually, it was a low-level squabble, or maybe one of the Saviours proving a point. Either way, it never lasted long.

But this time, there was shouting, and more bullets. It was enough to jolt you awake, pushing past that bleary state of consciousness and waiting, still, for it to continue.

It did.

You climbed out of bed with urgency, moving on autopilot as you threw on some jeans, not bothering to change from your sleep tank before bolting for the door.

Just as your fingertips brushed the bat, you realised it wouldn’t do. That gun was still locked away in the bottom drawer, so you reached for it, shoving a handful of bullets into your pocket before leaving.

Now, you’ve never been a very good shot. That’s why you preferred using the bat, or at the very least, hand-to-hand combat. You had terrible aim. But maybe now was the best time to fix that issue.

So, you made your way through the Sanctuary, swiftly stepping through hallways, gun at the ready. You were outside in minutes, the shouting becoming much clearer now, a voice you could recognise:

Rick Grimes.

“Fuck this..” You grumbled, growing irritated with this relentless back and forth. And now, they were in your home.

Another shot blew out the glass from above you, forcing you further against the wall, as the shards piled on the concrete. Some littered your skin, your shoulders bare, due to still wearing a tank intended for sleeping. You didn’t even have a bra on.

But there were worse problems, you supposed.

The gun felt heavy in your hands, fingers twitching around the trigger. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to use it, though that seemed like wishful thinking. You wondered where Negan was, yet believed he could handle himself. You and this gun were the main concern, a gun you had no idea how to use effectively.

You hid behind anything available, crouched down, trying to survey the surroundings. From here, you could see the scattered factions of makeshift soldiers, though Rick was now missing. You presumed he had a similar thought process to you: Negan.

That was fine, for now.

Clutching the gun tightly, you shifted into view, holding it outwards and discharging a shot into the distance. It echoed in the nearby vicinity, though there was too much gunfire to distinguish where it had came from, luckily. It didn’t seem to hit anyone.

What a waste.

“Hey!”

It was a whisper-shout, one clearly intended to gain your attention. You spun your head around, searching for the voice, amongst all the yelling and fighting taking place within your home. It took an embarrassing amount of time until you saw him.

Carl.

Thank fucking god.

He’d been watching you, on alert for your figure the second they arrived. He clocked your creeping approach into the battle field, ducking behind anything possible. It was almost amusing, the stark contrast in how you usually chose to fight, but made sense after you fired that hopeless shot.

You had no idea what was going on, assuming that Negan and Rick were off fighting, whilst a few Saviours tried to keep the rival gang at bay. Or gangs, plural. You guessed that speaking to Carl would be your best chance at getting a grip on the situation. That, and you weren’t in the mood for a defensive Saviour to shoot him.

So, you tried to get closer, looking left and right to make sure the coast was clear before ducking behind rubble or vehicles, anything to provide cover. Carl was used to fighting, sure, but felt slightly anxious for a reason he couldn’t pin. It was just a bad feeling, like something was not right.

This time, Carl called out your name, causing you to look up and at attention. He held out his hand, despite being meters away, a signal to come closer under the cover he’d found.

You clutch the gun tightly, safety off, poised at your side. But it’s difficult to see everyone, from this position, forcing you to inch out from behind the truck in order to get a visual.

Still holding out his hand, Carl waits, watching as you peek your head out.

Pop!

A shot fires, crackling in the distance, though it takes you down with a solid thud.

#carl grimes x reader #the walking dead x reader #negan smith x reader #twd x reader #carl grimes #twd x you #carl grimes x you #the walking dead #negan smith

[baddestbittyontheblock]

ellie williams fic recs (2/3)

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

my absolute favs: 🌱

꒷꒦  affinity - part 1 by @whore-era ellie williams x fem!reader | angst, pining, best friends, unrequited love

-after being in love with your best friend for years, one drunken night changes everything.

꒷꒦  as sweet as the sound by @xo-cori ellie williams x fem!reader | smut (MDNI), fingersucking, ellie is a filthy bottom idc, they’re a lil high but who isn’t in this economy

-she’s undeniably talented, but your girlfriend is just a bit too self-critical of her work.

꒷꒦  "what would you do if i went to touch you now?" by @louswrld11 ellie williams x fem!reader | wlw relationship, moderndayau!, whiny ellie (dying), oral, fingering, ellie's a switch?? wow, face sitting (i literally screamed into my pillow), cuddling!!!, ellie begging??omg yes pls, reader being more of a dom, ellie being a bit of a brat. literally just lesbians i mean what more could you want.

-ellie hates it when you're not paying attention to her

꒷꒦  where it all begins by @ijtaimes ellie williams x reader | pinning , jealousy , awkward tension? , ellie being mean to a kid, ellie being awkward, banter (lots of it because i live laugh love banter!), mentions of c*m

-summer is back in full swing, which means you’re back to being a camp counselor for moody, grumpy and hormonal middle schoolers. this summer however, is different! camp harmony hills has been renovated and the group of kids this year seem slightly more pleasant. not to mention, you have not one but two girls crushing on you. whew! but…something still is different about this year…the rumors are back and things seem a little. odd.

꒷꒦  wedding blurb by @spaceshipellie top!ellie x femme!bottom!reader | tlou au, ellie and readers wedding, touching in public, bathroom sex, fingering + eating out (r receiving), MDNI

-“you wanna love me right now, you wanna get alone with me”

꒷꒦  ellie headcanons pt 4 by @inf3ct3dd loser!ellie x reader

-loves matching with you. keychains, shoes, outfits, literally anything. if you have dyed hair, she’d dye a piece of hers to match you.

꒷꒦  hot to go! by ^ ellie williams x reader

-you started prepping the coffee beans, pouring them into a large class container while you moved your head back and forth, music blasting through your headphones.

꒷꒦  ellie fic by @dinasfavslut ellie williams x fem!reader | 18+ mndi!, smoking, sexual thoughts, cussing, pet names, teasing, smut (oral, fingering, slight mention of strap, squirting)

-everyone is aware that ellie smokes; we have all seen it. of course, there are also the dealer ellie fics, picture ellie making the reader squirt for the first time while high!

꒷꒦  brothers bestfriend ellie; by @hhayden222 ellie williams x reader | {sfw}

꒷꒦  ellie drabble/blurb by @amourrs  ellie williams x fem!reader | smut 18+, ai audios

-one where you wear ellie’s flannel and neither of you actually end up leaving the house

꒷꒦  store owner! ellie by @dollyhao ellie williams x reader | smut, doggy, squirting, strap in use (r!recieving)

꒷꒦ sending nudes to a high ellie by ^ ellie williams x reader | high ellie, mutual masturbation, dirty talk

-“baby…” ellie says through the phone sounding desperate as ever. she missed her girl friend so bad. she went on a friends trip with jesse and dina. you couldn’t come because you had to work still.

꒷꒦ nothing's gonna hurt you baby... by @cottontears modern au established gf ellie williams x fem reader | slight angst, hurt reader, ellie comforts her, fluff ensues, shitty friends

-ellie comforts you and saves you from your shitty friends

꒷꒦ 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒 + 𝐟𝐞𝐦!reader. by @iactuallykissedsharawheeler ellie williams x reader | weed mention

꒷꒦ gf!ellie headcannons by @phantombriide ellie williams x reader | mdni, loser gf!ellie, annoying gf!ellie, mentions of head/sex, mentions of making out, ellie's a clown and you're sick of it but love it so much, swearing and fluff

-gf!ellie who you've been friends with since junior year of high school.

꒷꒦ sweet blurb by ^ ellie williams x fem!reader

-ellie who loves coming home from patrol to a messy house. usually it's the other way around because no one wants to come home from work to a mess to clean up, but it's not like that at all.

꒷꒦ smut blurb by @wrtinginblood  ellie williams x fem!reader | pregnancy mention, nsfw

-ellie fucking you when you’re, like, newly pregnant and she’s sooo feral and excited for you to get all swollen with her baby

꒷꒦ texts with gf!ellie pt.3!! by @bellaramslover ellie williams x reader | mentions of smoking/drinking, implied sex, a little arguing

-Part 1 here!, Part 2 here!

꒷꒦ ellie fic by @d3arapril ellie williams x reader | 18+ minors dni, smut(obviously), dom!ellie, language, ellie has a dirty mouth, an ass slap.

-“cover her mouth and make her listen to how wet she is” aka jackson!ellie putting in WORK.

꒷꒦ sub service top ellie blurb by @seattlesellie ellie williams x reader | smut

꒷꒦ groupchat with ellie, dina and jesse part 2 by @elsweetheart ellie williams x fem!reader

-trying to organise going out to eat, and jesse can’t seem to catch a break.

꒷꒦ being a menace to dealer!ellie in the night part two by ^ ellie williams x reader

-you tried everything to get to sleep. you’d counted sheep, you had tried counting back from one thousand, you’d sat up and read a book— nothing was working.

꒷꒦ texts with ellie by @ellieslaces ellie williams x reader | fem!reader, suggestive conversations, harsh language, mentions of dark humor, use of pet names (babe, baby, sweet girl, etc), mentions of college!dealer!ellie

-a collection of messages between ellie and the reader! made by me. essentially this is my idea of what some daily conversations would be like with ellie if she were your girlfriend <3

꒷꒦ types of kisses with ellie by @elliesprettygirl ellie williams x reader | pure fluff

-how ellie would kiss you

꒷꒦ ellie playing the sims headcanons by ^ ellie x gf!reader | loser!ellie if you squint

-ellie being adorable

꒷꒦ ellie with a breeding kink by ^ ellie williams x reader

-"slow and steady"

꒷꒦ ellie williams and her clingy-ness by @lillysbigwilly ellie williams x reader

꒷꒦ my sweet girl by @evera-era ellie williams x afab!reader | friends to lovers, virgin reader, ellie has a praise + innocence kink, fingering, oral r!receiving, facesitting, fondling, lots of kissing, you talk her through it, fluff !!!!

꒷꒦ ellie blurb by ^ ellie williams x reader

-reader has a dream where ellie liked someone else or something (you know how a lot of couples go through this😭) and gets mad at her and Ellie is like “it was just a dream babe” and it’s all fluffy and cute

꒷꒦ f**k you by ^ ellie williams x afab!reader | hate sex, ellie’s rude as shit in the first half, alcohol use, some name-calling, aggressive kissing, fingering, scissoring, brat taming, spanking, edging/overstim

-ellie couldn’t stand you. she found you so incredibly annoying, and yet you shared the same friends. which was the biggest problem, ever.

꒷꒦ adventure time blurb by @savannahsdeath ellie williams x reader

-ellie and reader lying down on the bed while they’re watching adventure time, and all the time that princess bubblegum and marceline shows off, ellie is like “omg look at us!!”

꒷꒦ lover girl!ellie headcanons by @itsbecomeblue ellie williams x reader | nsfw with warning near the end, swearing, basically fluff, ellie and reader play soccer, puppy love, slightly loser!ellie, not explicit if reader is fem or masc

-highschool romance with ellie

꒷꒦ there's two ways to squirt by @bambiesfics ellie williams x reader | water-sports, extreme overstimulation, graphic depictions of lesbian smut, r!receiving finger bang, sarcastic Ellie, fluff + loving at the end.

-reader has a full bladder and is trapped in ellie william’s hatchback.

꒷꒦ once again, for the first time (1/3) 🌱 by @lovelettersfromluna ellie williams x reader | ANGST!!!, ellie is an oblivious idiot, quiet!reader, momentary alternative love interest, jealous!ellie, possessive!ellie

-being in love with your best friend has got to be one of the most emotionally exhausting things someone can experience, so it’s time you put your foot down and moved on….at least, try to move on

꒷꒦ silver springs (2/3) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | SMUT!!! 18+, mdni, alcohol and marijuana usage, jealous!ellie, slight asshole!ellie, cheating, oral r!receiving, edging, fingering r!receiving, pet names, kissing

-a step by step guide on how not to get over ellie fucking williams

꒷꒦ linger (3/3) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | smut!! mdni!! 18+, ellie and reader are both very sad and very stubborn, angst, hurt/comfort, alcohol usage, mention of marijuana, making out, pet names, oral (ellie receiving), tribbing

-back home for the holidays after hooking up with your best friend, who you also happen to be madly in love with...what could possibly go wrong.

꒷꒦ blossom (1/2) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | 18+!! smut!! angst!! (is it a fic of mine if there isn’t angst at this point), small town!ellie, it’s summer time ofc hehe, fingering (r!receiving), nipple play (r!receiving), petnames, ellie hurt reader in the past but is extremely desperate for her now, lots of kissing

-ellie broke up with you in high school right before she left for college. At the time, it left you devastated….five years later, she’s back. And she’s back for you.

꒷꒦ 20 something (2/2) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | angst!! ellie is an idiot in this one, joel being a dad figure to reader, alcohol usage, reader gets a lil drunk, jealous!reader

-how you ain’t say you was movin’ forward? Honesty hurts when you’re gettin’ older, I gotta say I’ll miss the way you need me.

꒷꒦ the perfect girl (1/2) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | 18+!!, ANGST, eventual smut just not in this chapter, mentions of sex, mutual pining, ellie is sort of a dick but she isn’t necessarily mean (don’t worry you’ll see), lead singer!reader, use of alcohol and marijuana, rock star life style so lots of partying, reader is a badass

-the amount of tension between you and your guitarist is fucking ridiculous.

꒷꒦ sweet little lies (2/2) 🌱 by ^ ellie williams x reader | 18+!!! Eventual smut, ellie is selfish point blank period, reader is extremely sad, some making out but doesn't lead to much, ANGST!!!!

-being on tour with someone you’ve been ignoring for two months is hard…but doable

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #the last of us #tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams imagines #tlou ellie williams #fic recs #tlou 2 #tlou smut

[peachdies]

The Wind and His Moon (Sanemi x Reader)

A/N: hello! Part 1 of an ongoing story I wanted to write as I procrastinate studying for the Bar. I posted an earlier Drabble of something from later in this series, but I wanted to get the beginning out now.

Sanemi is drawn to the reader from the start.

Massive CW: canon typical violence, graphic violence, gore, child death, and implied sexual assault. Swearing and later smut. MDNI.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Sanemi was there that day; the day she became part of the Corps.

The day her world had ended.

It had been fucking freezing that morning. The sky had been a muted gray as snow drifted down from the heavens in wet, fat flakes. The snow had started sometime the previous night, already having blanketed the village in its thick blanket.

The carnage, however, was fresh, and so the snow was not white.

It had only been an hour since the watery gray light of dawn had begun to bleed from the east, when his crow had swooped down over his head, tugging frantically at his hair. Rengoku ducked as his own crow collided with his head.

“Northeast! Northeast! Right at the base of the mountain! A horde of demons attacked the village!” They had cried.

Not just one. A horde. A horde of demons had descended upon a decently populated merchant village and had torn it and its people to shreds.

As he and Rengoku had furiously made their way towards the village (having learned that Tengen and Iguro were also en route), the crows screeched as much information as they could about the village and what had prompted the attack.

It had been her.

Or rather, her family.

The head of the village was a merchant known for his imports from the West; his success had meant the village was a success, with many small shops and tea houses lining the streets, always crowded with locals and tourists.

Demons have no use for money or exotic baubles; but Muzan Kibutsuji had a keen interest in obliterating Lunar Breathing from the world. And so he had.

The very same merchant whose business success had bolstered the local economy with his imports was also directly connected to the Clan that had created Lunar Breathing, the powerful, dark twin to Sun breathing. The merchant was the youngest and only living relative of the aging head of the Lunar Clan. The head of the Clan had never taken a wife after he had retired from life as a Pillar for the Corp some fifty years prior and had no heirs to continue on the family legacy. That burden, instead, was placed on the surviving eldest child of the Merchant in the village that the Flame and Wind Pillars now rushed to.

There had been an elder son, the crow panted, but he had passed a few years prior from illness. And so, the next surviving eldest had been tasked with the mission of becoming a demon slayer so that she could continue on the Lunar Breathing tradition. Her.

The crows did not know whether she had been present for the attack. Final Selection had only ended a few days prior, and it was entirely possible that she had either been killed on the Mountain, or was still making her way back to the village, unaware that no one would be there to greet her home.

The village had been eerily silent as Sanemi and Rengoku arrived. Dawn had given way to a dark gray sky, and visibility had not been ideal.

But it hadn’t taken much effort to see the blood and gore that littered the village’s once lively streets.

“What on earth,” Tengen’s voice broke the silence, as he and Iguro approached their comrades from the Eastern gate of the village. Behind them trailed a group of nearly thirty Kakushi. The Hashira silently took in the nightmare around them, unable to find the words for the level of destruction which had befallen the village just hours before.

“Kakushi. Spread out. Look for any survivors. They may be buried or hiding.” Rengoku’s voice was steady but uncharacteristically grave, his face stony and hard.

“Shinuzagawa, let’s make our way to the Lunar Merchant’s estate. We need to send word to the Clan head right away if-“

“You didn’t hear?” Iguro interjected, “the head of the Lunar House is dead.” Though the lower half of his face was covered, the anguish on Iguro’s face was evident. “That’s where Tengen and I just came from. He was ripped to shreds.”

“Fuck,” Sanemi hissed, a toxic mixture of anger, guilt, and despair roiling in his gut. An entire clan — and entire village— had been decimated in a matter of hours, and no one — they — had not been able to protect them.

“Have we word on the Lunar heir?” Rengoku asked quietly. Iguro and Tengen shook their heads. “Then she likely is lost, too.” The Flame Pillar turned back to Sanemi, his face a mirror of his own. “Let’s go.”

The snow and wind had picked up just as the Wind and Flame Pillars approached the Lunar Merchant’s Manor, obscuring some of the wreckage before them. Out of the corner of his eye, Sanemi thought he could see movement from the side of the Estate, but when he turned to examine it, all was still.

Before he could inquire further, Rengoku drew in a sharp breath, snapping Sanemi’s attention back to the Flame Pillar. But Rengoku was not looking at him; rather, he was staring straight ahead into the courtyard of the manor.

“Dear god,” Rengoku whispered.

Sanemi followed his gaze, through what had been once-proud iron gates, though only one side of the gate remained hinged. The other had been ripped from its stone setting, twisted by some unfathomable strength and thrown carelessly to the side. Just past the gate, Sanemi beheld a single, bloodied arm. But his stomach clenched at what lay beyond it.

There was not an inch of ground not covered in blood and bits of gore.

Body parts were strewn about, having clearly been ravaged by multiple demons. Broken glass and wood from the manor littered the ground, and the walls that were left standing had been showered in a thick coat of blood.

Most sickening were the pieces of bodies that were stuck to the sloped roofing of the Manor, as though some demon had plucked fleeing humans from the yard and feasted on them mid-air, allowing a shower of human entrails to paint the estate in gore.

A group of ten Kakushi had arrived at the Manor, gasping and crying out at the horror. Behind him, Sanemi heard one or two begin to retch, unable to stomach the carnage before them.

“Move!” Sanemi barked, his voice scratchy over the lump forming in his throat. “Fucking look for survivors! Anyone!”

Rengoku, a few paces ahead, called up to the crows circling over head. “Do you have a description of the heir?”

“She is around 16, Lord Rengoku!” It cawed back. Not helpful, given that most of the bodies here were unrecognizable.

Rengoku turned back to Sanemi. “I will check inside the house. You!” Rengoku called to a small group of three Kakushi nearby, “come with me!”

Sanemi continued to make his way through the debris and body parts outside, lifting stone and wood in hope that he might find someone — anyone — who had managed to hide.

He came across a large chunk of curved, chiseled stone that had become half-embedded into the soft ground below. Grunting, Sanemi heaved the rock aside, thinking it was perhaps some part of a fountain or statue.

But when he beheld what lay beneath, Sanemi’s stomach lurched. Crushed beneath the weight of the rock was the small body of a child, severed completely at the torso. Her two halves lay next to one another, a ragged seam torn between the two as though she had been pulled apart by force.

Sanemi felt the bile rise in his throat as his gaze fell upon the child’s face, utterly frozen in fear. Though death had snuffed any life that had once illuminated her eyes, it had not concealed the terror she had felt in her last moments, her mouth fixed in a scream.

She could not yet have been ten.

He could not help it. Sanemi turned away from the grisly sight and vomited into the snow, every inch of him trembling.

Sanemi wretched until his stomach was empty, and his throat burned from the acid and strain of his dry-heaving. With great effort, he forced his legs to carry him forward, any hope that they would find the Lunar Heir or any survivor growing dimmer by the second.

Even as Hashira, Sanemi doubted any of them had quite seen wreckage like this.

Sanemi neared the center of the courtyard, and halted before a large, circular stone inset that had been smashed to gravel. A large piece of rounded stone wall was all that remained standing.

Found the fountain, Sanemi thought bitterly. Another sharp, icy gust of wind whipped its way through the courtyard, disturbing the little bit of snow that wasn’t packed down with blood and gore. But the wind had also stirred up something else, something dark and wispy. Had the Wind Pillar’s lilac gaze been focused anywhere but that piece of stone fountain, he would have missed it softly fluttering up before disappearing beneath the lip of the fountain.

Sanemi moved to examine the other side of the broken stone. As he did so, Rengoku reappeared on the outer steps of the of the engawa surrounding the Manor, a frown etched deeply on his face.

“Shinazugawa, something is off. Demons were clearly here, but the house looks like it was ransacked— jewels, silks, valuables, all strewn about. Some things are clearly missing, like-“

“I found her.” Sanemi bit out, gruffly. “The heir.”

It was her hair, Sanemi realized, that had been disturbed by the wind, a few strands having drifted up before settling back down upon the bloodied shoulder of the lifeless girl collapsed before the fountain.

Had there not been a thick spread of red-stained snow and earth beneath her, Sanemi almost would have thought her to be asleep. Her face had been almost devoid of any injury, save for a few fresh scratches along her jaw and temple. Her eyes were closed, long dark lashes tickling a soft, and unblemished cheek, as pale and smooth as the Moon. Her expression was almost serene, in stark contrast to the chaos and horror around her.

The rest of her had not been left untouched. Sanemi noted that while she appeared to have maintained her limbs, her back was soaked in blood — no doubt the source of the large stain beneath her, and he saw that some of it still oozing from some sort of wound between her shoulders. Her the wrist on her left arm, stretched out before her, was bent at an unnatural angle, skin mottled from a mixture of the cold and an attempt to bruise before her blood had ceased flowing.

Beneath the torn and bloodied haori around her shoulders, were a pair of pants and a fitted, long sleeved top that had clearly seen better days. They hosted various tears and stains, and were caked in blood and what looked like mud.

The crows had said the Lunar Heir was around 16 years of age, but as Sanemi stared at her lifeless form, all he could think about was how small she looked; how young she had been, when she lost her life to the brutality of demons.

The thought made his blood run cold.

“No doubt this is her,” Rengoku said heavily, nodding at wounds Sanemi had not noticed on her hands. Squinting, Sanemi saw bruises and cuts in various stages of healing dotting her knuckles and fingers. He suspected more lay beneath her soiled clothing, though Sanemi ventured he could guess where they had come from.

“Final selection wounds,” Rengoku confirmed. “She must have just returned from the mountain when the attack began. Perhaps she even stumbled into the middle of it.” Rengoku shook his head. “She didn’t stand a chance.”

It was well known that even if one survived final selection, it was unlikely they would descend the mountain without injury. Seven nights with no access to shelter, food, or water was tough enough, but the added danger of starving demons almost guaranteed that one would not emerge unscathed.

She must have been injured, enough to slow her return home by a few days. Even if she had the skill to hold her own against the swarm of demons that had attacked her village, whatever injuries she sustained during final selection had likely sealed her fate.

Sanemi swore, looking over the last of the Lunar Breathing Clan, feeling the acrid bite of guilt and pity seep into his veins. The poor girl had survived the controlled horrors of final selection only to meet an even more grisly end at her home — where she was supposed to be safe. It was cruel, but so was a world in which demons lived, unchecked.

“She will get a Slayer’s burial, in the Master’s garden.” Rengoku declared firmly, raising his voice so the nearby Kakushi would hear. “She passed final selection; she’s one of us.”

“No,” Sanemi said, voice hoarse. “Bury her here with her family.” Sanemi’s eyes returned to the girl’s face, an inexplicable bitterness coating his tongue. “She fought to return to them; let her be with them.”

Sanemi lifted his eyes back up to the crimson gaze of the Fire Pillar. Rengoku stared at him for a long moment, before nodding, turning back to the Kakushi. “You heard Shinazugawa. Let’s give them a proper burial.”

The Kakushi began to move, thorough and efficient even among the horror around them. Sanemi readied himself to assist, moving to stand when his eyes snagged on the girl’s torso, his gaze drawn to the sizeable swath of smooth skin that was exposed to the icy bite of the snow. Sanemi’s frown deepened as he took note of the odd way that her clothes sat around her exposed abdomen. The girl was half laid on her side, but the front of her shirt had been bunched and twisted together, like it had been gathered and shoved out of the way. Sanemi’s eyes lowered a fraction to the front of the girl’s pants. At first glance, they seemed to be fitted around her hips normally, but that was precisely what caught his eye. The waistband on the girl’s pants slotted across her lower hips, not higher up on her waist as it should have been. One side was noticeably lower than the other, almost as though they had nearly been tugged off.

Almost as if-

Sanemi felt the hairs on his body rise. Looking over the girl once more, he noticed the suspicious lack of claw marks and bite marks to her body. The way that she seemed intact, compared to the bodies of her friends and family scattered in pieces around her.

The way that her blood seemed even more fresh than what caked the snow around them, as though she had been attacked right before they had arrived to the manor.

“Rengoku,” Sanemi said sharply. The Flame Hashira was back over to where the girl laid in an instant, though he maintained a respectful distance.

Sanemi jutted his chin toward the girl’s body and Rengoku followed his gaze. Sanemi could see the gears turning in his comrade’s head, as he too took note of the odd skew of her clothes, the lack of demon-like injuries despite her having stumbled onto a veritable feast on her family.

“How many demons do you know that try to-,” Sanemi ground his teeth at the word that came to mind, his blood beginning to boil and rage. “Have their way with victims before eating them?”

“Not many,” Rengoku conceded darkly, a similar anger simmering in his eyes. “Though not unheard of. It is… rare. Most can’t resist their hunger.” Rengoku fell silent, thinking for a moment.

“Didn’t you say the house had looked ransacked?” Sanemi turned his gaze away from the girl and towards the broken doors of the manor.

Rengoku’s eyes widened. “Yes. As if someone came in and grabbed anything they could.”

Sanemi nodded. “Bandits. Probably heard about the attack and got excited to loot. Found a body that wasn’t completely torn apart by demons and tried to take advantage.” Rather than bile, Sanemi felt anger, hot and lethal, threatening to spill out of him. He loathed men who sought to abuse women, but a girl who had just been attacked by a demon? There was no mercy he could give them.

Rengoku exhaled sharply through his nose, a weariness clouding over his features. “Though I don’t suppose we can really know for sure. There isn’t enough left of anyone else to compare.”

Rengoku clasped his hands in front of himself, and closed his eyes. Sanemi heard him mutter a small prayer for the girl’s soul, one that he had heard from Himejima.

“Whatever happened to her, she’s gone now. Let us ensure she can rest.” And with that, Rengoku turned to head back to where the Kakushi had begun digging graves for the deceased.

Sanemi watched the spot where the girl’s body had lain long after a pair of Kakushi had gently removed her to ready her for her burial. Sanemi watched with hollow eyes and a hollow heart as the Kakushi — female — tenderly brushed the girl’s hair from her face and straightened her haori. They crossed her arms over her middle and lifted her gingerly, carrying her over to join her family’s remains.

Hers was the last of the graves to be prepared. The Kakushi were just beginning to pack the mud and snow over her body, when one of them collapsed from exhaustion both physical and mental. The group had resolved to take a small water break before finishing, and neither Shinazugawa not Rengoku had objected.

After all, digging eighteen graves was no easy task.

Both Hashira had assisted, and their combined strength and stamina had streamlined the task considerably. While Kakushi rested, Rengoku had gone to the front gates to update Tengen and Iguro, who had been dealing with the wreckage within the village. Reinforcements of both Kakushi and lower rank slayers had been called in to assist with the clean up and burial.

In total, over sixty-three graves had been dug.

And not a single survivor had been found.

It was a heavy day — perhaps one of the darkest in the Corp’s history, and its crowning poisoned jewel was the eradication of one of the oldest breathing styles.

The news that there was one less defense against the demons was not a welcome one.

Sanemi had gone to the other side of the courtyard, away from the voices and graves and rising stink of death. Out of sight from any prying eyes, he found a tree and shoved his fist through it, clear to the other side. Pieces of bark and wood flew and splinters bit into the skin around his knuckles and palm. Sanemi could not find it in himself to care; he sought only to break through the silent numbness threatening to consume him.

Because he had taken refuge on the other side of the courtyard, away from the new gravesite, Sanemi did not see the hand and arm that shoved through the pile of earth resting atop the last grave. He did not see clawed fingers sinking into the mud and snow, desperately seeking purchase as the body attached to the arm hauled itself — herself — from beneath the earth, the remnants of her grave skittering to the side as she heaved her body out.

Sanemi did hear the terrified shriek of the Kakushi, and immediately drew his sword. In the distance, he could see Rengoku racing towards them, hand on the hilt of his blade.

Sanemi came into view of the gravesite right as the girl spilled out from the hole in the ground, using her bare hands to pull herself forward as the rest of her body remained limp.

Sanemi Shinazugawa was not a pious man; in fact, he frequently ignored Himejima’s prayers. If there were any gods out there, then Sanemi wanted nothing to do with them. They chose to let chaos and devastation run rampant. They chose to let demons exists.

But hell had apparently frozen over, and Sanemi found himself offering a prayer for the girl’s forgiveness as he prepared to behead her demonized form. He hoped she would understand; after all, she had joined the Corps intending to rid of the world of demons.

It was what he hoped one his his fellow Hashira would do for him, if he ever found himself in that situation.

As Sanemi cocked his blade, ready to strike the crawling demon from behind, Rengoku cried out.

“Shinazugawa, NO!”

Sanemi stuttered, his arm in mid-swing as he neared the demon’s neck. A flash of violet and white shot towards him, and a piercing shriek of metal tore through the sky as Tengen’s blade parried Sanemi’s, the force of the clash knocking him out of the air. A frustrated grunt tore from his chest, and with great effort, Sanemi twisted mid-air to avoid falling flat on his ass, managing just in time to swiftly land on the balls of his feet.

“What the fuck,-“ Sanemi had begun to growl, but his voice faltered at the look on the Flame Hashira’s face as he gawked at the girl sprawled on the ground.

In that moment, Sanemi’s sharp ears picked up on the weak heart beating rapidly and unevenly below him. At the same time, he caught a whiff of fresh blood, rising from the dark stain on the girl’s back. No doubt the product of a re-opened wound.

Ears ringing, Sanemi stalked around to where Rengoku and Tengen both stared unabashedly at the sight below them. Only when he was face to face with her did Sanemi finally understand what had caused Rengoku to desperately move to stop Sanemi sword from hitting its mark.

The three Hashira were not looking at a newly turned and bloodthirsty demon, but at a sweaty, pale, and trembling girl. The girl whose death they had feared doomed the Lunar Pillar House had just clawed her way out from her grave with nothing but her hands and sheer will.

She had not been dead, after all.

Slowly, so slowly, her eyes lifted to glare up at the person standing directly before her. Though she clearly strained to raise her head more than half an inch, her silver eyes met Sanemi’s lilac ones, and goosebumps erupted all over his skin as he beheld what lay within them.

Defiance. Pain. Rage.

So, so much rage, relentless and raw.

And so, so human.

She reached another trembling hand out before her to further drag herself away from her tomb. A thin sheen of sweat coated her pallid skin, and fresh blood was beginning to stain the snow beneath her.

She was panting, clearly fighting every urge in her body to give in, to let death beckon her back into its sweet embrace.

“I-I’m not d-dead!” She grit out in between shallow, uneven breaths, her jaw clenched so tightly that Sanemi wondered how her teeth didn’t crumble.

The three Hashira remained dumb and silent for half a heartbeat before-

“WHAT ARE YOU ALL STANDING THERE FOR? HELP HER!” Tengen bellowed, startling birds in nearby trees into flight.

The Kakushi sputtered into action, several of them moving to assist the girl, to help her when she exploded.

“DON’T TOUCH ME.” She screamed, eyes screwed shut and head bowed defensively over her hands as she clenched her fists into the earth. When she finally opened her eyes again, her gaze clashed with Sanemi, and his heart tightened as he recognized the emotion threatening to overcome her.

Fear.

Whatever this girl had experienced over the last few hours had overtaken all other senses. She had no logic, no ability to rationalize that she was among other humans, among comrades. Instead, all that drove her now was the primal instinct to survive.

And to her, they were another threat.

The girl continued to try and crawl away from them, but her movements became even more shaky, more uneven as the blood loss combined with her physical exhaustion. Rengoku caught both Sanemi’s and Tengen’s eyes, waiting to confirm their next move. All nodded, and Sanemi, having the advantage of being in the girl’s blind spot, struck the pressure point on the girl’s neck with his his hand.

She collapsed against the ground, unconscious and still. Gingerly, Sanemi lifted her into his arms, mindful of the open wound on her back, and of her head.

Once she was secured, the Hashira began their frantic sprint towards the Butterfly Mansion.

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

#kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #sanemi shinaguzawa #sanemi drabble #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kimetsu rengoku #rengoku kyōjurō #demon slayer shinazugawa #kyojuro

[namazunomegami]

emperor!geto x imperial concubine!reader

a/n: I’ve spent way too much time to research about chinese imperial concubines, playing with Royal Chaos during my highschool years and I had a boring shift at work. This is the result. Probably out of character as hell but hey, I wrote this for my enjoyment.

This is part 1 of a lil historical AU drabble series. I’m already finished with Sukuna, Gojo is in the works, and I got some ideas for Choso and Toji but don't think too much about it, ideas are just ideas.

I was so close to write reader as gender neutral but reader owns a type of traditional chinese headgear used exclusively by noblewomen so... yeah, reader is afab if you squint (very hard).

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, mwah <3

wc: 1011, I initally wanted a few headcannons but I got a full ass drabble

cw: suggestive, false accusations, implied murder, mentions of whipping, choking (not the kinky kind), yandere behavior

credits: renmakia for the gorgeous fanart and my dear @notveryrussian for proofreading and just putting up with my massive jjk brainrot every day, luv ya darling <33

MDNI, if you do, I'm gonna catch you like I'm gonna catch Gege.

He’s a monarch who considers his mind a weapon and information as a whetstone despite being born in relative peace. Spending his leisure time reading Sun Ce, the scripts of Confucian and Taoist scholars, sharing afternoon teas and long walks around the gardens with Buddhist priests and conversing about reaching enlightenment. As if he desperately wanted to understand how the world he was meant to rule works. His mandate of heaven brought prosperity, a flourishing economy, a strong connection between allied realms, a good education system that produced more scholars than in any other time before.

Competing for his attention is not an easy task. You almost gave up, bracing yourself for a long and uneventful life where you can only admire him from afar. You sit in the shade of a willow tree with a board of xiangqi, your playmate having left you not so long ago and you were trying to figure out which tactics and strategies they should’ve used to defeat you. You’re so lost in your thoughts you can’t notice him standing there, in the presence of his guards. You kowtow to him, excusing yourself for daring to bother him, pleading for his patience while you pack your things and leave. He likes that your manners are spot on, and he rewards you with a command to stay, to play with him, since xiangqi is a game between two people. And based on the positions of the pieces on the board you’re an experienced player.

Of course, he defeats you with ease, but he’s grateful you showed him everything you’ve got and didn’t let him win. He tells you that his victory lies in applying the teachings of Sun Ce to his playstyle. Your eyes light up and you beg him to elaborate further, maybe he can help you improve your tactics in the next game. He’s such a well-read man, so hungry for knowledge, so desperate to understand people. You’re sure he wants to figure out your thoughts too, what you think about the world, what values dominate your heart. And the secret to win him over is to shower him with all the details and even politely disagree with some of his beliefs and explain your point of view. That’s what gets him going, knowing your place in the hierarchy but not being afraid to stand your ground. Mindless obedience, at this point, bores him. That’s probably the reason why he slowly starts to favor you, your conversations refresh him, inside and outside of his bedchambers.

You may think that earning your place in his heart is a lengthy and hard process, but when he becomes sure that your infatuation comes from an honest place, he generously rewards your efforts. He showers you with gifts, each more thoughtful than the other. He sends you scripts from his personal library about topics that interest you, fulus he received from his priests to protect you and your chambers, phoenix crowns so elaborately adorned with pearls, sapphires, small dragons, and phoenixes made from solid gold. Gowns embroidered with clouds, cranes dancing around them, gifting you a small piece of the sky itself he descended from. He elevates your rank quickly so you can accompany him during events. Letting the whole court look at you, wrapped in everything he gave you, standing so close you can see him stealing glances at you from under the twelve tasseled crown. He rewards your family with money, grain, rice, political power. If he lifts you up, he does the same with everyone important to you.

But Geto’s court is highly competitive. It’s certainly not easy to be his favorite. You can literally smell the stench of jealousy eminating from the other consorts. Their gaze pierces your skin deeply when the eunuchs drag you around the Palace of Heavenly Grace with a brocade blanket hugging your naked figure. They must endure the sight every other night and they have no idea that the son of heaven is ready to serve you and do as you please behind closed doors and not the other way around, as tradition dictates.

Though he can comfort you, outside of his chambers you fear for your life. You needed a food taster now and never dared to walk the gardens without at least four guards in your proximity. You begin to doubt the trust between you and those you’ve befriended, because they can only blame you for his negligence towards them.

And then, the first accusation about you begins circulating around the palace. Some concubines claimed that you were guilty of witchcraft. So many of them are against you, with so much made-up proof you cannot do more than spend the night crying, believing that at dawn, guards will come for you and throw you into a well. You have no idea where Geto is or how you could beg him for protection.

The next day, strangely, a new set of officials deem you innocent. What boggles you even more is that he comes to your residence instead of having you delivered to him. Even his scent is not like it usually is, there’s something metallic, salty, and musky mixed in with the incense smoke.

That night he cradles you, shushing you, promising to keep you safe at all costs. Keeping it a secret how brutally he disposed of the rumor mongers, how he had some of his officials whipped bloody for not believing your testimony or about the thinly veiled threats that he’ll make anyone’s life a living nightmare if anything happened to you. Your heart skips a beat and simultaneously sinks deep in your chest when those of higher rank than you lower their head, trying their best to not look at you as they pass you by. With dark marks staining the skin below the neckline of their gowns, not even the empress consort being an exception.

It's not easy to be his favorite. It’ll never be easy.

But he’s a god, the son of heaven, and heaven will forgive him and so will you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk drabbles #getou suguru x reader #jjk x y/n #meesa writes

[fayes-fics]

Target Practice [Drabble]

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict teaches his wife how to handle a rifle...

Warnings: Mostly fluff, a couple of suggestive moments, and one explicit line of dialogue. Married couple teasing each other.

Word Count: 0.7k

Author's Note: This is a request fill from DM chat with a lovely mutual who wishes to remain anonymous. They wanted to see a similar teaching scene to the infamous Kanthony gun moment... but with Benedict and his wife. Sorry it's taken so long to write this and that it's so short, but I hope you still enjoy <3 This is set in the Innocence universe.

“Concentrate,” he murmurs, each syllable elongated, the tone teasing and resonant.

You purse your lips and shoot him a sideways glance, feeling his heated breath dusting your cheekbone.

“Maybe it would be easier if you weren’t crowding me out, husband,” you point out with more than a hint of snark.

Benedict lets out a quiet chuckle.

“I’m merely trying to provide ample instruction, my love,” his voice tinged with amusement as a gust of wind makes the trees surrounding you rustle slightly, whipping the points of his cravat up to tickle your neck.

You hum, sceptical of that assessment. He seems to be doing his darndest to distract you as much as assist you.

“Here, hold it… like this,” his arm snakes around your back and his long, warm, agile fingers curl around yours on the barrel of the rifle. 

“You are just doing this in sport now, aren’t you?” you pout.

“Not in the slightest,” he lilts, “you just have to be the very best at everything, don’t you? So here we are.”

You almost hate how accurately he can sum you up with such an economy of words.

“Now look down the barrel of the gun along the aim line; line up your target with that v-shaped notch and fire at will,” he tutors softly, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

You take a calming breath and line up your aim with the empty wine bottle he has placed on the old stone ruin in the forest, some distance away.

He is silent as you cock the trigger, but just as your trigger finger moves to fire, he leans right in and rumbles right in your ear.

“I love seeing you handle my weapon.”

The gun fires loudly and ricochets you backwards. 

And… you miss—by a country mile.

Your whole body instinctively reacting to that bedroom voice he can affect whenever he wants to rile you.

“Not fair!” you huff loud and indignant. “I call shenanigans! I demand a redo!”

“All is fair in love and war, my darling,” he chuckles, already turned away to load and prepare his gun for the same shot.

“That was not done out of love,” you counter, brushing a stray hair from your face, “but it was a declaration of war, Mr Bridgerton.”

He guffaws louder. “Do your worst, my darling. I was a crack shot at Eton, and I'm still not bad now,” he simpers, the confidence oozing from him both attractive and galling. 

He really needs to be taken down a peg or two.

To be fair, he looks an innate natural with his rifle as he checks the barrel and lines up for his shot, his hold one of practised ease and years of tutelage. You’re almost annoyed at how good he looks, just how damn attractive he looks—his tan britches and blue overcoat straining in all the right places over his muscular outline. Damn him.

“Now darling, once I’m done tutoring you, maybe you will be this good,” he states airily, shooting you a crooked, sideways grin without taking his eyes off the target.

So you deploy the one weapon you have in your arsenal that obliterates him—every time.

Just as you see his trigger finger squeeze, you lean in and slide a hand heavily over the front of his trousers.

“I am so wet for you right now….” you exhale, biting his earlobe, breathing hot and heavy into his ear.

The gun fires…. And he has missed by a mile too.

He swings his head to look at you, mouth hanging open in disbelief as you simply tilt your head and raise your eyebrow.

“What? You did it to me,” you shrug.

“You brazen little minx,” he growls, and its equal parts impressed and annoyed.

“Husband, you told me, on our wedding night, if I recall, if I were ever in such a circumstance that I should tell you right away,” you continue in that smug tone. “I am merely abiding by your ‘ample instruction’,” you volley, echoing his own words right back at him as it's his turn to quirk an eyebrow.

You squeal as he tackles you to the ground. And there is no more shooting for a while… at least not with rifles.

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader

[pa-stella]

Happy birthday, Kuko!!

As usual, a kuujyu oneshot that it's not really kuujyu lol it's not even a good birthday story! I had another idea, but I'll keep it for a future longer fanfiction.

Title: Vision Fandom: Hypnosis Mic Pairing: Kuko/Jyushi but not really

“Kuko-san, can we take a break?” Jyushi whined loudly as he let the broom he was holding touch the ground.

“We’d be done already, if you hadn’t complained the entire time.” The young monk replied and picked the broom up.

During the previous night, a sudden thunderstorm had hit Nagoya. The strong wind and heavy rain had swept away the summer heat, but they also left the temple’s garden in poor conditions. Leaves, branches and other debris had filled the usually neat yard until Kuko had decided to get to work and fix everything. Of course, he forced Jyushi to spend the entire afternoon helping him.

Kuuko sighed, pointing to a small mass of branches. “I only have to move that pile away, then we can stop for today.” He proclaimed in the end. 

“Oh, I’ll go to buy something to drink in the meantime!” Jyushi ran towards his coffin shaped bag that he had left on the veranda without waiting for a reply. He knew the monk wouldn’t stop him. They were both tired and sweaty after hours of hard work. A cold drink would be a perfect award after all that fatigue.

After taking some coins from his wallet, Jyushi crossed the courtyard and went down the steep stairs of the temple. Any other day he would have ran to the vending machine on the other side of the road, but his body wanted some mercy. His legs, arms and back really hurt.

Once he had purchased the beverages, a Coke can for Kuko and a bottle of yuzu flavored Fanta for himself, the visual kei artist began to walk back without hurry. As the sunset approached, the calm scenery was starting to change. A slight breeze moved the trees where cicadas were already singing. He could also hear the noise of shutters in the distance. Shops were closing. People were getting ready to go back home after an entire day at work. 

At the top of the stone stairs, Jyushi stopped to admire the view of the temple tinted in the warm shades of the dusk. A few lanterns had already been lit, standing out against the buildings covered in a dark purple shade. The sun was slowly going down, leaving more space to the evening lavender sky. 

Even Kuko had stopped what he was doing to look at that spectacle. He was holding the metallic rake in his hands and the pile of branches was still in the same spot. The sound of footsteps startled him and, when he turned to look at Jyushi, the latter almost stopped breathing. The last sunbeams framed the monk’s figure, creating a sort of halo behind him. 

“What’s with that face?” Kuko smiled and for an instant Jyushi saw his eyes shine like the disappearing sun.

“Uh…? I was…. I was looking at the sunset…” He whispered while handing him the Coke.

The redhead nodded, turning once again to look at the horizon. “What a wonder, right?” 

Jyushi squeezed the bottle a little harder. “Yes, a real beauty.”

#super short drabble #writing? in this economy? #hypmic #jyushi aimono #kuko harai