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starless-nightz · 19 hours

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II. Nico is an adorable little boy

| MASTERLIST | WATTPAD |

Carmillas POV:

I watched with amusement as the satyr kneeled down into the snow, mumbling and stumbing over his words as my mother and i stood before him.

The black haired girl, Thalia, yelled at him to get up, practically grabbing him by his shirt and forcing him to stand.

I remember her very well, she refused to join my mother and the hunters over some boy, even when my other mother warned her that he will betray her, its ironic really, he really betrayed her.

"Whoa," Bianca di Angelo said. "Hold up. Time out." We all looked at her, she seems like a really nice girl, pretty too, i hope she joins the hunters.

She pointed her finger at all of us in turn, like she was trying to connect the dots. "Who… who are you people?"

My mothers expression softened as she looked at her.

"It might be a better question, my dear girl, to ask who are you!,Who are your parents?" Bianca glanced nervously at her brother, who was still staring in awe at me and my mother, he looks so adorable!

"Our parents are dead," Bianca said. "We're orphans. There's a bank trust that pays for our school, but…" She faltered. I guess she could tell from our faces that we didn't really believe her.

"What?" she demanded, getting a bit annoyed. "I'm telling the truth."

"You are a half-blood," Zoe Nightshade said. Her accent was hard to place. It sounded old-fashioned, like she was reading from a really old book. "One of thy parents was mortal. The other was an Olympian."

"An Olympian… athlete?" Bianca asked, completely confused.

"No," mom said, crossing her arms. "One of the gods."

"Cool!" said Nico, his eyes shining like the brightest stars.

"No!" Bianca's voice cracked. "This is not cool!"

Nico danced around, he looked absolutely adorable, maybe mother could make an exception for him to join the hunters.

"Does Zeus really have lightning bolts that do six hundred damage? Does he get extra movement points for—" he asked us as he got closer to us, he was practically shaking from excitement.

"Nico, shut up!" Bianca put her hands to her face. "This is not your stupid Mythomagic game, okay? There are no gods!" Bianca said, trying to convince herself that none of this is real.

I felt bad for her, its obvious in how much distress she is in, after all who wouldn't be scared to learn their parent was a god?

"Bianca, I know it's hard to believe. But the gods are still around. Trust me. They're immortal. And whenever they have kids with regular humans, kids like us, well... Our lives are dangerous." The green eyed boy tried to reassure her, but it made it worse.

"Dangerous," Bianca said, "like the girl who fell." Thalia turned away, its obvious shes scared for the blond girl.

"Do not despair for Annabeth," mother said. "She was a brave maiden. If she can be found, I shall find her."

"Then why won't you let us go look for her?" The boy asked, obviously pissed off.

"She is gone. Can't you sense it, Son of Poseidon? Some magic is at work. I do not know exactly how or why, but your friend has vanished."

"Oo!" Nico raised his hand. "What about Dr. Thorn? That was awesome how you shot him with arrows! Is he dead?"

"He was a manticore," mother said. "Hopefully he is destroyed for now, but monsters never truly die. They re-form over and over again, and they must be hunted whenever they

reappear." she explained, Nico was fascinated by the information.

"Or they'll hunt us," Thalia finished.

Bianca shivered. "That explains… Nico, you remember last summer, those guys who tried to attack us in the alley in DC?"

"And that bus driver," Nico said. "The one with the ram's horns. I told you that was real."

"That's why Grover has been watching you," the green eyed boy said. "To keep you safe, if you turned out to be half-bloods."

"Grover?" Bianca stared at him. "You're a demigod?"

"Well, a satyr, actually." He kicked off his shoes and displayed his goat hooves. I thought Bianca was going to faint right there.

"Grover, put your shoes back on," Thalia said. "You're freaking her out."

"Hey, my hooves are clean!" Grover complained.

"Bianca," the boy coninued, "we came here to help you. You and Nico need training to survive. Dr. Thorn won't be the last monster you meet. You need to come to camp."

"Camp?" she asked.

"Camp Half-Blood," he said. "It's where half-bloods learn to survive and stuff. You can join us, stay there year-round if you like."

"Sweet, let's go!" said Nico.

"Wait," Bianca shook her head. "I don't—"

"There is another option," mom said.

"No, there isn't!" Thalia said.

Mom and Thalia glared at each other. I had to stop myself from laughing uncontrollably, mother had to hit me in the rib to calm me down.

"We've burdened these children enough," mother announced. "Zoe, we will rest here for a few hours. Raise the tents. Treat the wounded. Retrieve our guests' belongings from the school."

"Yes, my lady." mom said as she walked off to inform the other hunters.

"And, Bianca, come with me. I would like to speak with you." she continued.

"What about me?" Nico asked.

Mom looked at him, a small smile forming on her face. "Perhaps you can show my daughter how to play that card game you enjoy. I'm sure Carmilla would be happy to entertain you for a while." she said, looking at me.

I just smiled and walked over to the little boy, putting one of my hands on his back.

"Lets go, Nico." i said as i lead him to a secluded area right under a huge tree. We both sat down, Nico immediately pulling out his cards.

"How can you be Artemis's daughter? I thought she cant have children cause of an oath she took?" Nico asked, his eyes practically shining fron excitement and wonder. I had to physically stop myself from pinching his cheeks.

"Well thats true, she cant," I said, obviously hes still confused so i continued, "but i was born cause of the strong my mothers share." I explained.

"Mothers? I thought its wrong to love th same gender..." he muttered, ah, he grew up around those kinds of people.

"Its perfectly fine to love the same gender, Nico, even the gods agree." i told him, he didn't say anything, but he cracked a small smile.

"Now how about you show me your cards?"

#pjo x oc #pjo x reader #pjo oc #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jacskon and the olympians #percy jackson #zoe nightshade #bianca di angelo x reader #bianca di angelo #nico di angelo x reader #nico di angelo #thalia grace x reader #thalia grace

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abirdie · 3 months

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Gael García Bernal in Letters to Juliet (2010, dir. Gary Winick)

(these gifs also feature Amanda Seyfried)

[other gael filmography gifsets]

#gael garcía bernal #letters to juliet #ggb filmography gifs #gael garcia bernal #ugh #gael plays the fiance she dumps two-thirds of the way into the movie #although her eventual romantic interest is supposedly english #he is played by an australian #and it's not that his accent is BAD exactly #but it's in that uncanny valley of accents where it's just slightly off #and listening to it is like nails on a blackboard #this may have prejudiced me but i found that character dull and irritating #this was a film gael did shortly after the birth of his first child #when (he's subsequently said in interviews) he felt extra pressure to work and bring in money #and separately i've seen an interview with amanda seyfried where she says she made this movie because she wanted to buy a house #so basically everyone here was in it for the paycheck #i mean it's POSSIBLE vanessa redgrave thought it was the highlight of her artistic career i suppose but somehow i doubt it #plus points: the movie doesn't suggest there's anything WRONG with gael's character #just that the two of them aren't really compatible #which they certainly aren't if she's interested in bland blond guys #actually i'd be about 500% more interested in a hypothetical movie about gael's character than i am in the actual movie #i hope his restaurant is a success #less hypothetically también la lluvia (which is coming up next) was the same year as this and is several thousand percent more interesting #can you tell i didn't like this

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jamiesfootball · 9 months

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Always lowkey simmering a Leverage AU in the back of my head hear me out:

Ted is an ex-insurance investigator who was able to get his son life-saving medical treatment because his first, original Crime Pal Beard was like ‘Ted if your company doesn’t come through with the coverage, we’re doing things my way.’

The company did not come through. The company did let him go due to suspicion of Ted’s involvement in the incident, but Ted will happily remind folks that no charges were formally pressed. Henry is alive and healthy and living with Michelle, who divorced Ted shortly thereafter (not just because of pre-existing marital problems, but because Ted wouldn’t tell her anything about why the doctors “””suddenly decided to do the procedure for free”””). Shortly thereafter, Ted fled the country.

What Ted learned from the whole experience is that there’s a lot of people out there, good people just trying to live by the rules, but sometimes things happen that are just out of their control. And well- if we’ve got the means to help the good people out when no one else will, then shouldn’t we try?

“We’ve got means,” Beard agrees. “And motives.”

They do things Beard’s way now.

#also Rebecca is a grifter who gave it up when she married into money and her name(s) echo mysteriously through the back alleys of London #“did you hear about this Secret Princess Lydia who went missing in the 90s?’ ‘yes Ted that was me’#the woman is constantly dodging every half-told lie she made on a lark twenty years ago but she is amazing at keeping them straight #and Roy- Roy long ago took an injury that ended his career as a footballer before it started #and he fell into a bad spot as a hitter #and then he fell into a worse spot #and then he dug himself out for his neice that no one knows about (see: everyone knows about think mafia kid no one is allowed to touch her)#the problem now is he’s getting old #the hits hit harder and his speed isn’t what it used to be #(Roy Kent’s slow is still leagues beyond what these young wannabe punks can do these days)#keeley! she is a sneak thief. very charming. tiny. great with repelling down sides of buildings #loves money and shiny rocks and thinks Rebecca is the bee’s knees #and then there’s Jamie who is a 24 year old hacker with gaudy taste no knack for accents and a problem with authority #in this au him and ted have basically split Nate’s backstory #Ted’s dad took him to bars and taught him little tricks and mind games- nothing fancy just stuff an HR person might know #meanwhile Jamie’s dad took him to shady deals in bars because his dad was a fixer who’d put bad guys in touch with each other #jamie keeps a tracker running on his laptop with his dad’s whereabouts at all times #unfortunately he didn’t think that anyone else would bother looking for him- he’s not exactly a big time crook #but Ted and his crew have pissed off Rupert Mannion who is big time and who wants to hit back at Rebecca for making a fool of him #and Mannion’s people have identified that the way in to breaking their little crew is through Jamie #who’s name sounds so ridiculous people have assumed it was fake this whole time #anyways #thanks for reading #I will likely never write this but boy I have ideas 💡#leverage au #ted lasso #jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #rebecca welton

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tame-a-messenger · 26 days

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Oh no, man. I decided to watch the Damien episode of Perfect Person coz I only found out about it from the Angela appearance.

There's a part (around 2:45) where he says he booked the Starfield VA gig right when he first started at Smosh so with it coming out recently, it kinda bookended "this part of his internet life".

And I was like, WHAT DOES HE MEAN? IS HE LEAVING SMOSH??

<darthvader.gif> NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

I find it interesting that he also says right before at (2:46) that he's trying to "Focus up, here soon" and since this Podcast was only 4months ago... Wonder what that means!

Ok ok joking aside I don't really think that's exactly what he meant by the things he said. I think he was mainly talking about doing more voice over work and "focus" on it more, not that he's going to fully leave Smosh.

youtube

He also says that he spent 5-6 yrs recording for that game, so that's why I think him saying "bookended this whole part of my internet life" is ONLY referring to him voicing over that game.

I'm also pretty sure "this whole" is (although it does sound like it could mean what you thought) almost definitely his southerner coming out, and what he meant was "the game coming out has bookended 5-6yrs worth of work for the voice over I did" not that he's quitting anything (I'm becoming the truth speaker of Damien Haas)

Holy shit bro, I'm getting good at this 'decoding whatever people assume Damien meant' stuff! I felt my skin glowing while I was trying to decipher what he meant lmao

I am become Truth, the Breaker of Assumptions

#Smoshblr #smosh #Damien Haas #holy fucking brain blast #I am become Truth breaker of assumptions #that might be the hardest thing I've ever written #dude honestly #im thinking about it rn and I think (weirdly enough) that if damien spoke more southern he wouldnt be as misunderstood all the time #he mixes in a lot of 'southerner' phrases that just dont come across the way he means them to #(I have a hyperfixation on how language and culture can change a persons personality)#whiles hes saying “this whole” he moves his hand around in a wiping motion #WHICH IF HE TALKED A LITTLE SLOWER AND WITH MORE OF HIS ACCENT COMES ACROSS EXACTLY LIKE I THINK HE MEANT IT #hes a southerner that has been infested with a cali accent while still keeping his way of phrasing which makes people confused #if this doesn't make any sense to you uuuhhhhhh my bad #but I think I cracked the case!#of why so many people mistake his intentions!#oh and of course I could be totally wrong and he is leaving smosh #but i dont think so

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boxwinebaddie · 2 months

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wait nina why did jersey go to juvy again?

saaaaaur...okay.

it pains me to say this because jersey is my angel and under all the aggression and hard lines, he is smooth and soft as anything but...

jersey was a bad kid.

and i mean a REALLY Bad kid.

like just to make a crucial distinction between pep!kyle and rm!jersey:

( which, yes, i do realize that it's insane that they are the same character but are written so drastically different by me across both my fics, but i think it really goes to show just how much your environment & your circumstances effect the person you become. )

peppermint kyle was very neat tiny handwriting, color-coded notebooks, sweater-vests, squeaky clean record, honor roll, took his job as hall monitor extremely seriously, preppy, quiet and calculated, was an 'um, actually' kid, teacher's pet, valedictorian, textbook 'good'.

rem(ember) kyle?

naaaaaaught so much.

on the subject of juvie/kyle's infractions with the law ( yes, i do think that it's extremely ironic that he is a lawyer given that is constantly disrespectful to authority figures/doesn't respect them whatsoever )

for context: it was the summer immediately following stan's death, kyle had just turned thirteen and the broflovski's had spent a very long vacation somewhere far off, maybe a tropical island, bc they wanted kyle to have a very relaxing/rehabilitating experience after being legitmately traumatized by the death of his super best friend slash love of his life...he was not relaxed at all, btw. and he saw stan in every fucking coconut and palm tree, the ocean was too blue, etc.

but when they got back in to start the school year up, kyle noticed that...there were people in stan's old house, aka the house next door that stan and the marshes had lived in before moving to tegridy...

and kyle...BROKE.

he had a full on Psychotic Break, like a massive pstd episode because

Someone Was In Stan's Room.

someone who was Not stan was in HIS STAN'S ROOM.

so literally with his pupils so dilated with rage that they were pitch black, not even a silver of the beautiful vermilion green stan loved so much, he climbed out his window, no shoes on, no nothing, like in his fucking terrance and phillip pajamas and then proceeded to climb the garden trellis he used to use to get up into stan's room and when the latch on the window wouldn't open he pUNCHED A FUCKING HOLE THROUGHT THE WINDOW AND SHATTERED IT before stepping through it. and his entire hand was fucked up, like blood running everywhere, but kyle didn't care about all he cared about was getting answers and he didn't care what he had to do to get them.

so what he did was grab a GIANT JAGGED SHARD OF GLASS off the floor, hold it over some poor little seven year's olds throat who, mind you, had just moved in next door!!! also he was SEVEN??? and kyle was just like "who the fuck are you??? who The FUCK ARE YOU??? WHY ARE YOU IN STANS ROOM??? WHERE IS STANS STUFF??? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO WITH STANS STUFF!!!!! HUH!!!!!"

and this kid is SCREAMING, like he is Screaming and Crying bc he's so scared, there's blood all over him ( not bc he got hurt, other than psychoogical damage that child was unharmed ) kyle's blood from his busted fucking hand that is basically a wound at this point, so the kid is just crying for his parents, telling kyle he doesn't know what he's talking about, and kyle is about to slit his throat like GUT HIM like a fish, i'm not even joking he was...Seriously Unwell.

and ofc, his parents got there, saw what happened, called 911, called sheila and gerald and it was just this really, reeeallly brutal, gnarly scene of a ton of police officers holding kyle back, they had to like sedate him to get him into the ambulance all the while kyle is just looking at sheila, who isn't even mad at him she's just so worried about him ( ft. gerald being like 'oh my god, i can't believe he would do something so stupid! the whole town is gonna talk about it! what are the guys at the firm going to think of this! i'm ruined! ) and kyle is just hyserically sobbing like "ma—mA, did you see? did you see they got rid of stan's stuff???? where's stan's STUFF, ma? THEY TOOK HIS STUFF, MA!!! STAN'S STUFF, IT'S ALL GONE, IT'S ALL—"

...and the sedative kicks in, kyle's eyes roll back, he's limp and they put him into the ambulence. sheila is besides herself, she's trying to talk to the other family who is FREAKING OUT ( she also didn't have the heart to tell kyle there was no 'stan stuff' all of the stan stuff that wasn't given to kyle in a little shoebox like a fucking cardboard casket was all that was left of stan...everything else was lost in the fire ) ike is dead silent, wordlessly crying, clinging to sheila's legs wearing kyle's ushanka, completely traumatized by that...gerald is making business calls and being the worst fucking father of the year....UUUUUUUGH.

but even That did not put kyle in juvie.

oh no, my friends.

that put kyle in the south park mental house...where he was an ABSOLUTE FUCKING MENACE EVERY SECOND OF EVERYDAY and was there for about a year? i think? before they spit him out, like, they probably should have kept him in there longer, but he was actually so vile and wicked and insane that he scared all the hospital staff within inches of their lives, constantly caused a ruckus, tried to escape like every other day, bit lots of people. they wanted him gone.

speaking of gone, after kyle's stint in the looney bin, the broflovski's moved back to new jersey where sheila's side of the family lives just because kyle was waaaaay too unstable to keep living in south park. also, fun fact, kyle threatened to kill cartman so many times that he had to get a Restraining Order out against kyle and tbh, he Would have beaten cartman within an inch of his life or to death after stan disappeared on the night of the sadie hawkin's dance BUT...

shelley did it for him.

right before she died.

( go shelley, i love you miche <3 )

but back to kyle...or as i, and the entire state of nj like to call him,

jew jersey, better known as kyley b.

who was a fucking TEMPEST.

i mean the mean streets of new jersey cowered and fear when kyley b was on the sidewalk, ppl cried just lookin at him, he was That Bitch.

like, pep!kyle was pocket protectors and tube socks and sweaters.

jew jersey kyley b was ginger hair slicked back with gel, busted lip, knuckles cracked, white tank top, star of david chain, baggy jeans, sweatpants, mean mugging, flipping you the bird; A DELINQUENT.

which is naaaught, again, to say that kyle wasn't a good student. kyle was a Great student. kyle was the best student at south park elem/mid and across all six schools he attended in new jersey. easy.

but...he attended six schools, my friends. or, offended, rather, six schools. so it didn't matter that he was a fucking genius, ten times smarter than all the kids and in his teens already smarter than all the adults too, he was waaay too much of a liability and always fighting, brawling, starting shit, causing a huge scene.

on that note and to answer a different ask message inside this one, i got asked by some lovely anon a while back about why kyle didn't get get into any of the ivies he applied for even though he's a genius...

it's because while he got straight as, he was as crooked as they came.

my boys rap sheet was a miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiile long.

and mind you, this is pre!ed kyle, like he was a big boy and he was SLAMMIN people into the sides of building, grinding them into the ground, if stupid gangbanger dudes tried to pick a fight with him, they'd be picking their teeth out of the pavement. he was BRUTAL.

pep!kyle wanted teachers to like him and was a brown-noser, but if a teacher asked jers 'i'm sorry kyle, do you want to teach the class?' bc he was either talking or looking bored, he'd be like 'thought you'd neva ask.' <3 and start LITERALLY TEACHING??? like the work he turned in was beautiful but that boy was a bomb, i think he threw a DESK??? AT A TEACHER ONCE???? like if you try and wave the yard stick at him he will snap it in half n brandish the wood shards at you.

THAT BITCH IS CRAZY AND HE IS MY BABY!!!!!

as far as what Finally sent kyle to juvie...i can't say, i don't know.

i didn't have that planned out, what i will say, though, is that kyle practically LIVED in the new jersey police station/correctional office showing up every day w/ bruised knuckles and a busted ass nose like Sigh...What Was It This Time, Broflovski? ( totally done w/ his shit )

and kyle's like *cracks knuckles, puts feet up on desk*

'some idiot called me gay earlier, so naturally i figured he was comin' awn to me. cute huh? so i decided we should jus' skip the first date dinna or whateva and get riiiight to the good part. so i stuck my foot so far up that cocksuckas ayss that it came straight out his mouth. speakin'a straight, pretty ironic cwalin a yourself straight and then takin' it from another guy, don'tcha think? but yaknow, i tried not to clown him for cryin' too much; coming out is a very emotional thing. i'm a sensitive type, you know that officer. and if i'd'a known it was his first time...i woulda been a little gentla' takin his viriginity. mazel. <3"

he's so fucking funny, i am obsessed w/ jersey. the police officers, however, did not share my sentiment. i swear the second they hear kyle come through those door they're all like "aaaaaaah for Fucks sake. alright, who wants to deal with broflovski today?" and one of the officers is like "don't look at me, i did that last week, i got the kids tonight" and reluctantly the last guy looks around and is like "fuck me, i guess I'LL do it, but you fuckers are paying for all my drinks."

and trust me, you will need a drink! a stiff one! kyle is Very Fucking Mean like!!! we read what he just did to that guys ass w/ his foot!!!

but whatever got kyle sent to juvie had to be like...one hundred times worse than that...i gotta let that cook a little but it was probably REALLY BAD ( i think it was in sheila's honor tho! he is my bad boy w/ a good heart, y'know ) and it was gnaaaaaaaarly. i'm talking like kyle beating someone bloody, broken bones, facial reconstruction, probably mild grand theft auto, punching multiple cops in the face, resisting arrest...a MESS all while screaming and cussing at the top of his lungs via the new jersey slaughterhouse accent which...

i feel like that entire event was horrifying...but if stan was there...i'm so sorry he would be like sheeesh oh my god diooooos mio is it hot in here HSJSKAKA HEEEELP

SPEAKING OF KYLE AND BOY JAIL AND STAN!!!!!!! someone Also once asked me about stan's forbidden internet digging on kyle, if he found out he was in juvie and...he Did...but a lot goes into it.

so basically, in the state of colorado, the psych records of minors are public property, so when stan was being a nosy, nosy little boy and missed his best friend, he found out via google search that 13 year old kyle had been admitted to the south park mental house for about a year. and the trail went dark after that....UNTIL...stan was about sixteen and this viral news article was going around about this deranged humongous teenage boy in new jersey doing bat shit insane shit, running from the cops fighting cops...and they didn't say the kids name but they did say that when kyle punched like all 32 teeth out of some guys mouth he said...

"smile, pendejo"

aND STAN WAS IMMEDIATELY LIKE OH MY GOD ITS MY HUSBAND!!!! but you know...had to act cool...you know...can't let dad and kenny know that you know the love of your life resurfaced...fml. LITERALLY STAN IS STANBANNED FROM GOOGLING KYLE!!! A MENACE, BUT STAN MARSH IS A ONE MAN MAN!!! HE IS WED!

okay, moving on, so there were no pictures of kyle in that article and it didn't say his name but it did say that the troubled teen was sent to juvenile hall. BUT THERE A LOT OF THOSE FML and also new jersey minor records are sealed so.....oh my god....i have Second Hand Embarrassment from stan doing literally the most here.

i don't even Care that jersey almost killed multiple people, ravenstan STOLE KENNYS DRUG DEALER BURNER PHONE, and called every single fucking juvenille detention center in new jersey doing THE WORST!!!! THE WOOOOOOORST SHEILA IMPRESSION EVAAAA! trying to get to kyle. btw, a lot of them were dead ends, obviously were like nice try kid, 'we can't release that info' and he was about to give up...then the Very Last Number he dialed was this absolute shit hole of a juvenile detention center that happened to have kyle...and i just Know kyle was wearing that place down, so when stan asked they were like Oh GOD, Are You Sure? STEVE, LOOK!!! SOMEONE ACTUALLY WANTS TO SPEAK TO THE BEAST. I KNOW! I CANT BELIEVE IT NEITHA! BROFLOVSKI GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!!!!

not stan like literally heart beating one million miles per hour, twirling his hair around his finger, eyes sparkling....and kyles just like WHO THE FAWK ARE YOU?! and stans just like, time stops for a second, bc his brain is doing his lovely synesthesia boy thing where all his senses and synapses are lining up, its the most beautiful sound in the world, everything is singing and it's like...at long last...My Kyle. <3

bUT THEN ITS LIKE AAAAAH FUCK OH MY GOD SHIT SHIT SHIT I CALLED MY SUPER BEST FRIEND WHO THINKS IM DEAD OH GOD FUCK I DIDNT THINK THIS FAR ALONG so he is just Frozen??? hsakds like literally just breathing hard on the other end while scary ass juvie new jersey kyle is verbally eviscerating the FUCK out of him like "I ONLY GET TEN MINUTES OF PHONE TIME A DAY AYSHOLE!! WHEN I GET OUTTA HERE JUST WAIT, BITCH!!! I’LL K.I.L.L. YOU!!!”

and stan is NERVOUS!!!! naturally like both bc he's like u are the love of my life and i miss you and i don't know what to do bc i'm a stupid teenage boy who wanted to hear ur voice...but also i am kind of scared of you...but also hi please kiss me ;) omg jfc...stan go to THERAPY!

so he just LAUGHS!!! like just a little under his breath bc he’s super anxious and flustered...and you know, it's not a cute sound, its clunky and nasally and weird and

...It’s STAN.

but before kyle can say anything, stan hangs up in a Panic becuase chef comes upstairs and ooooooough my god....stan gets in SO much trouble, it's so bad. like he is like on lockdown for doing that. which, i know sounds extreme, BUT STAN IS DEAD!!! STAN ALSO TECHNICALLY KILLED SOMEONE, COMMITTED ARSON AND IDENTITY FRAUD!!! i would say being grounded for a while is very tame…smh, i’m just—baby, what the fuck did you think was going to happen???

back to kyle though, who is LOSING IT because he was like that was stan’s voice THAT. WAS. MY. STAN!!! but that number was untraceable, the correctional officers were like they called you, you should know who they are and he was like yEAH IK THAT WAS STAN!!! and theyre like oh boy here we go like no, kyle…that was not you Dead Best Friend calling you…hands and multiple heavy objects were thrown…you know the drill…and kyle spent a night in solitary dreamin abt stan & his stupid laugh.

btw, in therapy they told him that was just a hallucination or that he wanted to hear stans voices so bad he Made It Up so that’s…fun!!! everyone keep telling kyle he’s crazy when he’s right!!! makes so much sense!

but yeah, kyle was in juvie for about a year and then his senior year of high school he did in person…btw while he was in juvie, he was running that whole place like the goddamn Navy, like, holy shit, kyle was the lawyer ceo king of juvie. ALSO!!! again, please note most of the kyley b pinterest pictures mostly just hair and outfit/vibe references, kyle’s ed did not manifest until the summer after season year when he got rejected from all his ivies/waitlisted for columbia because he thought that because he didn’t look or talk the way sophisticated people do, and wasn’t super mode skinny or flawless, that he would never make it anywhere in the world and he was like fuck you all, i’m gonna play your game…and i’m gonna win.

tldr; regardless of how much jersey weighed at any given time….Not Only Was Jersey Fione…He Was Also Ripped.

;))))

I SAID WHAT I SAID!!! like kyle was out here in the streets every day fighting, threatening to shiv people in juvenile hall, cracking aholes in the cafeteria with the lunch trays & going to solitary, my man is HARD LINED!!!

i feel like bc of his hauntingly beautiful, elegant refined dark academia aesthetic and the ed kyle seems waiflike and brittle but iiiiii beg to differ i think jersey kyle is crazy dummy Stupid SWOLE!!! like he goes to take off his sweater and his teeshirt gets caught and everyone’s jaw is on the floor like HEEEEELLLOOOO NEW JERSEY!!

i must say that unfortunately a large part of kyle’s ed is him staying in shape, he does really long runs Every Single Morning Without Fail and when he’s not studying or working or in class he is at the gym, so even though his body is literally killing over from exhaustion, whatever meager or barely there strength he has left is put into punishing himself for putting creamer in his coffee…sigh.

BUT ANYWAYS!!! SWOLE SCARY SEXY JERSEY KYLE!

-uncle nina, standing w/ her cancelled, problematic son

#gahd twalken about crazy ass scary ass fine ass jerseykyle is my favorite subject #like ik he’s an academic but that does not mean he’s not a menace #it’s also so insane bc they do not look like the same person #like if u saw massive stacked gelled back hair white tank top chain baggy pants bruised knuckles kyley b #and wafer thin evil classics professor elegant austere long hair jersey w the glasses chain #u would be really fucking confused #but then he would start talking and ud be like Ah #Yeah That’s Him #WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT STAN DID HOLY SHIT #im gonna need that tv montage of stan with a gigantic list of juvenile detention centers #crossing them off one by one doing bad jersey accents #screaming into his pillow #like three crushed cans of mango tango monster energy #wearing the kyle cure teeshirt #ALSO GOD HES SO STUPID I LOVE HIM BUT LIKE BABY #U CANT JUST CALL UR BEST FRIEND WHEN UR DEAD WITH NO BACK UP PLAN LIKE HOLY SHIT #not kyle being literally homicidal and hearing one off key note of stan’s laugh and immediately being like *soft boy vc* stan?#IM IN PAIN DONT LOOK AT ME #WILD #but yeah ask me about scary jersey all the time #HES SO FUNNY N CUNTY ALSO I LUV HIM CHEERS MAZEL #ALSO IM SORRY BUT HE IS 100% RIPPED LIKE HE HAD A LIFE TIME #OF BEATING THE FUCK OUT OF PEOPLE #AND HE WORKS OUT CONSTANTLY BC HES MENTALLY ILL #he is a baddie in every sense of the word im afraid #not kylee verbally evisecerating stan on the phone and him being like this is kind of hot #GO TO JAIL LIKE COME ON #i know he had dreams abt that #sixteen year old stan go to juvie challenge u know what he was grounded but he had…a lot to do #lots of…source material…ANYWAYS THERE U GO BABY! HOPE THAT ANSWERED UR Q

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stevethehairington · 2 months

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watching a movie in which a British Actor is the leading man and i did NOT go into this expecting him to speak in an american accent but he opened his mouth to deliver his first line and it was. it was an american accent! and boy oh boy is it THROWING ME for a loop fjsksosdk

#it doesnt usually faze me toooooo bad #but i think having only seen this guy in roles in which he speaks in his normal british accent #AND the fact that he does have stereotypical fucked up british teeth hfjsd it is throwing me BIG TIME that an american accent is coming ou #also his american accent SOUNDS fake #and sort of like another actor but i cant put my finger on who #mack rambles #EDIT: i figured out who he sounds like #he sounds like alan rickman as hans gruber fjdkdkd #which is objectively a terrible american accent #but YEAH HE SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE THAT #LIKE HES TRYING TOO HARD #ITS. FJSKD BAD.

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jamiethebeeart · 2 years

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The Black Cat AU by @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 specifically this post mentioning the wanted poster pictures (x) because it's hilarious

#cat eye #danny phantom #dani phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #fanart #decided against white accents (since they're supposed to be thieves) but the idea of nicknames like mittens?!?!?!? couldn't resist at least #making them gray... like a little tabby cat #went with something a little less formfitting for dani since on one of the posts it mentions she looks 9?#realized too late that there's no mention of alley cat's outfit BUT it did mention a blindfold and cat ears and that was too cute to passup #for some reason red lipstick seemed to fit danny more than the green (because i'm a sucker for including ghost green when theyre human)#they have eyeliner. haha get it? couldn't resist that pun sorry #im not saying imagine danny with tabby markings on his catsuit back in that gray BUT that's exactly what im saying #i AM bad at clothing design why do you ask /lh #isn't very apparent but dani has like??? a tank over a formfitting turtleneck. basically keep the theme but make it more age appropriate #tumblr please don't rearrange my tags again when this posts

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halain · 7 months

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ideal wicked eyes & wicked hearts attire is the inner circle in black uniforms and hal'ain in white everyone and their mom has said it but the red/blue is sooo goddamn ugly i cant stand it. give them a little more detail a little more opulence as well i need those orlesians shown UP

#bad at designing clothes otherwise i would be drawing up examples but we need a little more ehh.. kuntenserven so to speak #also i specify white for hal'ain A) so he stands out and theres no question of who EXACTLY is inquisitor here #and B) it looks rlly good with his color palette. makes him almost glow #that plus gold accents..#.txt

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m00npiez · 8 months

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Modern Steddie AU

“Oh she’s cute.” Robin points over to a table near the bar.

Steve follows her finger and the blonde in the pink pleated skirt is, in fact, very cute. “You should go talk to her.”

Robin gives him a look, “Literally everything about her screams ‘straight’ so no thanks,” she takes a sip of her cocktail, “Don’t feel like getting humiliated today.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “I doubt she’d humiliate you but suit yourself.” He stands and fluffs up his hair a little, “If you won’t, I sure as hell will.”

Before his friend can protest, Steve’s strutting over to the girl’s table. She looks up at him when he stops and leans slightly against the chair opposite from hers.

“Hi!” she greets before he can say anything. Her whole face lights up as she smiles. She’s definitely cute, but not exactly what Steve had in mind for the night.

“Hey,” Steve flashes his own smile, “I was just telling my friend how cute you are and wanted to know if I could maybe buy you a drink?”

Her face goes pink, but her smile falters slightly and a small frown forms. “Oh that’s so nice of you, but I’m actually a lesbian,” she seems genuinely upset at having to break this news to him. “I’m really sorry, you seem lovely.”

Steve’s eyes widen slightly, but his smile remains, “Oh, god, sorry I should have asked,” he laughs, “That’s totally my bad.”

She shakes her head and leans forward in her seat, “Not at all, sweetheart!” there’s a slight southern accent slipping through and her smile is back. “You couldn’t have known, I know I don’t exactly look the part.”

“Well, since I’m already here,” Steve smirks, glancing over his shoulder to where he can see Robin watching the scene unfold. Her eyes snap away once she realizes he’s looking at her. “My friend over there is single and also extremely gay.”

Chrissy looks over and her smile turns coy, “Now she’s cute,” her eyes snap back to Steve. “She’s the one who told you to come over?”

“The opposite, actually. She thought you were straight so, I came over instead.” Steve explains.

Chrissy nods, glances over her shoulder and then stands. “Well, I’ll just have to go over there then.”

Steve smiles, “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Chrissy.” The blonde extends her hand and Steve shakes it. “Thank you for letting me know the girl I’ve been eyeing is queer.”

Steve gives her a two-finger salute and goes to walk away, but she grabs his wrist to stop him.

“Do you like men, by any chance?” Chrissy asks, her smile alluding to something.

“Is it that obvious?” Steve laughs.

She gives him a once-over, “The tight shirt sort of gave you away.”

“Fair enough. Why do you ask?”

Chrissy points over to a curly-haired guy covered in tattoos, who’s ordering at the bar, “You should go talk to my friend, Eddie, he’s been blabbing about the hot jock in the polo since you walked in.”

Steve swallows, he’d seen the guy when they walked in, but hadn’t allowed himself to look. He was the kind of hot and scary Steve usually avoided due to their usual disdain for preppy guys like Steve. But surely if he kept Chrissy around, he couldn’t be all bad.

“I don’t exactly seem like his type.” Steve points out, giving Chrissy a nervous glance.

She laughs, “Oh please, pretty boy with big eyes and a great body? You’re everyone’s type.”

“Not yours.”

“Trust me honey, if you were a masc lesbian I’d be all over you right about now.” Chrissy winks and Steve can feel his face heating up.

“I don’t want to bother him…”

Chrissy rolls her eyes, “Just use the same line you used on me, he doesn’t bite.” she pauses, “Unless you ask really nicely.”

Yeah she isn’t exactly easing his nerves with these little jabs.

“He looks like he carries a knife.” Steve’s just stalling at this point.

“I know he seems kinda mean and scary, but he’s really just a big ol’ softie, trust me,” she pats his shoulder, picks up her drink and starts walking towards Robin, “Now I’ve got a pretty lady to talk to, so get! Go make a move on the scary metalhead, Steve!”

Steve watches her go, his amusement growing at the sight of Robin’s panic when Chrissy plops down at their table.

Mustering up the courage to walk to the bar, he turns but immediately bumps into someone. The person manages to steady their drink and somehow prevent Steve from falling on his ass, grabbing him around the waist.

“Shit sorry!” Steve finds his footing, only to nearly lose it again when he looks up to find his face a few inches away from the aforementioned friend of Chrissy’s.

Eddie smiles, squeezes Steve’s waist once before releasing him, “Don’t sweat it, sweetheart.”

Steve’s face must have been bloodshot at that point. Two people had called him sweetheart within the span of a few minutes. At this rate his brain was going to malfunction entirely.

Eddie studies him for a second, his eyes twinkling, before looking over to the now unoccupied table. He frowns, looking around the bar.

“She’s over there.” Steve points to where the two girls are deep in conversation.

Eddie’s eyes look from Steve to Chrissy and back again. “Were you heading back there?”

“Uh, no, actually,” Steve clears his throat. Why was it so hot all of the sudden? “I was told to go talk to the scary metalhead?”

Eddie’s grin returned, showing off his dimples. Steve was allowing himself to stare at the man now, and god was he stunning.

“Scary? That’s rich coming from the girl who literally carries a knife with her.” Eddie sits down at the table and looks at Steve expectantly, “I don’t bite,” he gestures for him to sit, so he does.

“Apparently you do if I ask nicely,” Steve says, then feels his face heat up again when he hears what he said.

Eddie laughs, loud and beautiful, “God, she really knows how to play wingman, huh?”

#this is just a little experiment #had this idea at 3am #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #buckingham #steddie au #modern steddie au

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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

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Have you ever thought about the idea of a Clueless ace reader x ace alastor trying to figure out what all the fuss is about? Couple different ways it could go obviously but I feel like it would be a perfect comedy smut

Thank you for this meal. Okay I know this is LOOSELY based on your prompt, please forgive me. Can I add in that they be a little tipsy?

After a few drinks, you and Alastor do your usual teasing and mimicking of the others dramatic displays of physical affection. But, unusually, Alastor seems to be really invested in the joke tonight…

Warnings/promises: light smut (fingering), wrong kind of haha, sconces, bad Angel accent, Under 1500 words

maybe the tag list? Works list: @ xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

Alastor list: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

Fuck Joke Around and Find Out

The evening started with drinks among the group gathered at the bar. Everyone talking, sipping, leaning into each other to be heard better. Vaggie’s fingers playing with Charlie’s, Angel inching closer and closer to Husk until he was quite literally on top of him, to Husk’s obvious embarrassment. At some point, Angel took Husker’s hand, the two slinking down the hallway. Soon after, Vaggie not-so-discreetly followed a bouncing Charlie to their top floor home.

After realizing the couples snuck off, you turned to Alastor and asked, already smiling, “Oh I guess it’s our turn?”

Your giggling slipped into mutual cackles, his brows rose and he asked, “Your room or mine?”

You threw your leg over Alastor’s lap and straddled him, mustering your best Angel Dust accent, “Pssst rooms are for squares, baby.”

Normally, especially when having a little to drink, the physical barrier between each other was thin and easily toppled. An unspoken understanding had formed some time ago, allowing you both to relax a little more than usual when in close proximity. He still attempted his touchy intrusions to fluster and bother people, but he knew that didn’t work quite as effectively on you.

“Squares? Oh, not us.” A smirk, his head somewhat dramatically shaking a reinforced ‘no’, making his bobbed hair sway left and right.

When you start a pitifully-motivated grinding against him, losing balance and tipping backward, Alastor’s large hands come to the dip of your hips and still you. A laughed, accent-less, “Thanks, trying to do it like he did,” fell sloppily from your mouth, your hands going to his shoulders for extra security. Your head bent down, stifling another nervous giggle from spilling out. “I think this is exactly how Angel had Husk pinned. Not a convincin’ portrayal, pookie?” Your accent was shit, but he smiled all the same. His ears were pressed down and to the side, resting a little more against his skull than usual, something that seemed to happen often when he had a couple glasses. It looked more relaxed than his normal way of wearing them, but you never asked him about it.

Alastor’s finger tipped your chin upward, pulling you in for a kiss against his grin. When you huffed, fighting the awkward laugh, he swiped his tongue over your lips and slid into your mouth. A hum, as you relaxed into it. What a long joke this is, you think somewhere a little up and to the left of your liquor softened mind.

When alone together, you’d occasionally play around. Just mimicking what ridiculous things the other sinners had done recently, laughing and moving on to general gossip and conversation. Maybe the alcohol was dragging out the bit.

His hands pulled you forward, your little hip movements actually making contact with his crotch now. You hear yourself moan into his mouth before you even realize you’d made the noise.

Thinking becoming a little fuzzy, you pull back from him, “Oops. Sorry. Got carried away.”

“No need to apologize. What’s a little joking around between pals?”

You nod before a surprised shriek is forced out of you, Alastor pulling your hips down and starting to sincerely grind against you.

“I didn’t expect you to remember all the moves, Alastor.” Your hand came to your mouth trying to still the tremble of your lips as you spoke. Other hand now gripping his shoulder to stay upright. You’d never have played around with any one else but him like this. Too much confusion to deal with after. But, Alastor’s “playing” was so convincing. You weren’t minding it, to your surprise, but you weren’t sure you understood the source material as well he did.

His head fell back with a roar, “Being an infrequent lover doesn’t mean I am a bad one.”

Oh. Was the blush on your face noticeable in the dingy light of the parlor? You had never heard him say that word before. His hips were still moving, but the laughing stopped. It wasn’t unpleasant, in fact you found yourself sinking a little more, letting your weight settle fully. It earned you a sloppy half-smile from him. “That would make them experts, compared to us,” You motioned your head in the general direction of the stairs.

“You think so?”, he leaned up to kiss you, you leaned back a little, causing his lips to miss yours. A quick annoyed glare passed over his face before slipping back into a neutral stare, “Are you in the mood for a good joke tonight, dear? I wouldn’t be opposed to making you”, he grazed his nose against yours, “laugh.”

You let him capture your mouth with his, a surprisingly more intense kiss, before pulling away again when you caught another moan rising up, “I don’t mind a good laugh, now and then.” Did you-you say that or Angel-you?

The sofa cushions were pressing into your back before you could process what had happened. Alastor’s body was resting between your legs, which were spread open around him. His lips didn’t leave yours, one of his hands cradling your neck to trap you between him and his hungry mouth. The other was undoing the button of your pants and sliding under the band of your underwear.

His back was arched, his considerable height forcing him to bend over you if he wanted to continue the kiss, which he apparently did. Now on your back, you wiggled under him, awkward and uncertain what role you played anymore.

When his fingers slipped past your bottom lips and the mound of his hand ground into your clit, you pulled away from him and both hands shot to your mouth. You were aware you were in a public space but you couldn’t see anything past the sofa. Everything beyond him and the tattered chaise lounge was shadowy and lacking contrast. Even then, your heart was pounding.

When did the playing around shift? Was this—- did he think this was funny? His smile was strong against your neck still, but maybe not?

You splayed your fingers out to better hide yourself, embarrassed at how your hips rolled into his palm. Looking past your hands, you could see him staring down at you now, wide shoulders hiding you from the light of the sconces above. He had the same look as always in his eyes, nothing out of place. Cooly, he asked without actually wanting an answer, “Do you think this is what they’re doing now? Or is everyone already��”

A finger slipped down and into you, your legs clenching around his hips. You heard him sigh, before a second finger began to push in. Your hips lifted off the sofa and angled into his hand, welcoming the way he was pressing down and into you.

Oh, yeah, no.

A pent up moan tumbled past your lips when his fingers crooked up and pressed into the soft bundle of nerves just inside your entrance.

“What a curious laugh you have, my dear. Are my jokes that good?” He buried his face into the crook of your neck again when a voice stopped him from leaving the little marks he had been set on.

“I thought jokes were supposed to be funny. When is the funny part going to happen?”

Alastor’s ears were pin-straight into the air, hair stiff and sharp, as his face slowly turned to the side to see Niffty sitting at the bar.

”Oh, was I suppose to leave when everyone else did?” His hand slipped out of you and then in turn, your pants.

“No, Niffty, dear. That’s quite alright.”, Ears faced back and down, eyes half lidded and smile clearly forced, “We were just— playing around.”

“Really? Cuz it kinda looked like you guys were gonna fuck.” She hopped off the bar stool and scurried down the hall, “Please don’t dirty the sofa, sir.” echoing behind her.

You patted his shoulder, lifting yourself up on your elbows, “Can I be Husk next?”

I wrote this while washing dishes— the dishes aren’t very clean but neither am I

༻Masterlist༺

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deadghosy · 2 months

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Hi! I hope you're doing great!

So I saw the headcannons of reader as Catnap and Dogday and I fell in love with the way you write! So I was wondering if you could do a headcannon about the reader being bendy from bendy and the ink machine?

Like the reader can draw and bring ink creatures to help around the hotel, maybe draw some decorations for the hotel? Sometimes going full on ink demon form to protect it or just pick up their friends on their back to make them feel taller

And the reader was actually an animator at joey drew studios and died, I think that would be pretty cool!

P.s I would love if the reader was wearing the same suit bendy wore in bendy and the dark revival

HAZBIN HOTEL X BENDY!READER

Prompt: a cute “little” demon becomes a resident who helps with the designs around the hotel!

Starting off. You definitely appeared as baby bendy 😘 with ya cute ass red bow or white bow. What ever you want the bow color as you showed up to the door trying to seem professional as Charlie gushes at your cuteness and lets you in.

The picture of baby bendy in the car, yeah you have that as you literally fuckin' zoom in the hallways drinking apple juice like a bad ass kid….bendy!Reader and chibi!Reader both doing races to make sinners poor😭 lil evil asses….

I imagine Angel dust and Alastor ganging up on you as a team to insult you by your height until you grow up to ink demon from with a roar.

“HOLY SHIT-” “Oh my.” They both said as you they were blew off by the power of your roar. So you felt happy seeing them shocked to see that part of you as Charlie didn’t see it and had commented how adorable you are with your suit.

Shit you are a devil in an angel’s suit‼️

You still wore the suit you had in when you met Audrey…man you miss her. But you are getting taken care of by Charlie and her friends here. Plus her father.

You help design the banners around the place! And even your small ink minions help as well.

I can imagine bendy! Reader being like “fuck it.” Because they can’t reach for the cereal and turn into normal height looking bendy and just starts to act as if it’s normal. While in the background, the crew has pure confusion on their face. Like, “what the fuck? You can be taller?”

“Yeah! Pretty neat right?” “..Im out of here…” husk says walking away as niffty goes up to you excited to talk to you about your height.

You ran over alastor’s foot once….you never speeded over 120 mph in your whole life seeing Alastor chase after you.

I imagine you going to normal height as you are just chilling with your small or long tail swinging and husk gets curious as he picks it up with his paw. “So…this ya tail right here?” You nodded reading the new paper. “So you’re a sinner demon?” “I ain’t nothin'” you said with a smirk as you disappeared in ink.

No one knows what exactly what you are. You don’t have the basic looks to look like a sinner or a hell born. So it’s kinda confusing to other.

You’re obviously a human who died to the ink as you use to animate bendy…so you’re bendy?? Does that make since because whatever you died by is your demon form….hopefully that made sense..

You once went full ink demon mode because a sinner tried to attack at you and husk while just running errands for the hotel. You transformed getting taller with the ink covering your face as you growl and slashes at them with a giant gloved hand covered in ink. And after that husk respected you more.

“Bendy/reader, can you help me make a cute star design?” Vaggie asked as Charlie was trying to make a star gazing banner. You nodded with your cartoony smile and pulls out a marker and started to draw on the air. The star in the air becomes to life as vaggie’s eyes widen.

“Uhm…oh wow. Thanks?” Vaggie says as she walks away with question marks visible while you just smile.

Y’know those dubbed comics where bendy has an accent? I feel like that’s cannon because you and Angel would be babbling about which part of city you guys were from.

I can see sir Pentious and you doing crafts as you made him an ink cartoon flower as he made you a bracelet bead with your name on it.

Lucifer will definitely play violin as you tap dance. Just a wholesome ass moment fr 💗🦆

You one time had fat nuggets in your doom buggy as you guys had shades just chilling around the hotel like bad asses✨

You miss your original family when you were alive and working. But everytime you open your eyes, you are greeted by the sweet comfort of your new family in the hazbin hotel.

You one time made an ink sculpture of your family and you tried to hold your smile but it faltered as you cry at how you missed your family as the ink sculpture melted due to your emotions.

Alastor appeared in your room seeing you sad little state as he comforted you. He had taken a liking to you ever since you joined the crew.

I can see you being childish because of your shortness so you use it to your advantage. YOU AND ALASTOR MAKE YOUR INK DEMONS FIGHT LIKE POKÉMON 😭😭

lol imagine bendy!reader making a whole like of fake ass tarrot cards to fuck with people as you have that smirk on your face.

“You’re gonna get run over toots…watch your back..” “what. The. Fuck-”

They got ran over by a mysterious person and a car….who knew who it was…it was you, you little bastard.

When the hotel has a talent and show day or night, you remembered how you animated bendy to do ballet and tap dancing. So with your information, that’s what you did. Yeah some sinners laughed..but some aplaude as they found it cute and so did your friends

You making ink blob bracelets for your friends as you can make them solid is a goal for real.

Headcannon on how you would try to make ink sculptures, but failing as you huff in anger and smash it with a full ink demon hand as the rest of your body is fine.

Headcannon of you just accidentally leaving ink footprints as you took off your shoes once 😭 niffty doesn’t complain as she likes to clean tho

I can see Lucifer picking your small body up happy for you to be so small as he has started in his eyes. And you are like annoyed at how the cast picks you up like a baby.

LMAO THAT WALMART MEME STOPPP😭😭 LUCIFER PUTS YOU UP TO THE DAMN WALMART CAMERA HAVING ALASTOR ALSO PICK LUCI UP 😭😭

I imagine you and Alastor having either a “bad ass son x calm father” troupe or a “non-biological sibling” troupe as you two get quite along

Your little ass doom buggy is such a weapon when needing to take a troubled guest in the hotel….YOU RAN THEM OVER?! 😨 ALL PEOPLE SEE IS A SMALL ASS INK DEMON HAVING A GUEST SCREAMING AS THEY GET RUNNED OVER TO THE DOOR-

So when the angels came for the battle, you were sure damn ready as you suffocated them in ink and control them into killing their own.

After seeing your full demon form, you definitely had been seen in a different light. They don’t see you as the cute baby bendy they seen you before.

Nah nah. They see you as a grown ass person as you are not in the baby bendy phase but more like the fanart type shit looks. With your charm, you definitely bring in some customers.

HOPED YOU GUYS LIKED THIS AS THIS IS ALL I COULD COME UP WITH 🦆💗 MWAH

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catiuskaa · 3 months

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need you to [Lee] Know.

SUMMARY: minho loves you: to him, it’s as clear as water. Its only after he finds out that you’re starting to doubt it—he needs you to know just how much.

REQUESTED! here by an anonnie. I hope you like it, pookie, ‘cause I had fun doing this! <3

CW: slight hurt/comfort if you squint, but it’s just fluffy fluffy lino being really down bad and not knowing how to grasp it tbh which just gives me my serotonin dosis for the rest of the month lol

WC: 1.2k

A/N: also omfg kats posting two requests on the same day? that’s right baby, look at me go! 🤩🤩🤩

[🔅★🌼★🔅]

Minho was not the type to show his affection.

He comes off more like a shy kitten that slowly gets used to you, your sweet smell and how soft your touch feels, and then slowly opens up.

“But, uh… can I be real with you for a sec?”

It’s a feminine voice with a strong accent. He can hear it comming from your room, and the slight glitchiness of it makes it obvious that it’s a phone call set on speaker.

“Sure.” He can almost see you shrug, but he just closes the main door as soft as he can, pleading for the cats to stay silent for a little bit longer.

Minho can’t exactly place together why he’s overhearing your phone call. He knows who you’re calling, he can recognize Chan’s sister by her tone. But still, he keeps quiet, gently placing his bag down and silently taking his shoes off.

“I just— and don’t get me wrong, but, your boyfriend kinda seems… bored of you.”

What? Minho has to hold back a scoff, remaining as still as a statue next to the front door. He’s waiting for you to deny it.

“You think so?”

And then, he frowns, because you didn’t. Instead, your tone sounded hesitant. Dubious.

As if you weren’t sure if Minho loved you.

“You say he keeps cancelling your plans together. He has stopped making time for you. Like, girl, you can’t remember when was the last time he told you he loved you.”

Hannah pauses, and that only makes it worse, because it lets every word sink in.

“I uh, well. I ain’t gonna say that he should throw flowers at you every single second, but, uh, you know.”

He can only hear you groan loudly, almost picturing that cute motion you usually did when he meaningly teased you, taking your hair and covering your face with it.

“Can’t say anything for sure with him,” Hannah adds. “But, just by what you’re saying…”

Minho’s heart clenches tightly in his chest. He doesn’t want to keep hearing this... this nonsense. God, he loves you. And you… can’t see it? Frowning, he starts walking to your room, but his movements end in a halt, his hand just above the doorknob, threatening to grasp it and fully open the door.

“Girl, it’s gotta be late down there. Sorry this whole call was about me.” Your chuckle comes off slightly dry. “I’ll talk to you later, ‘kay? Go get some good sleep.” Your tone just screams how bad you’re feeling, and it just makes his chest swell with guilt that slowly creeps up his body.

Maybe he had been taking you for granted?

He opens the door as soon as you press the red button, sighing loudly after ending the call. When you see him, you jump in your place, startled by his presence, and you stand up awkwardly.

“Minho!” You say in a squirm. He can’t help but cringe slightly.

“No.” His tone sounds childish, like a petty toddler who didn’t want to eat the carrots in their lunch.

You frown slowly, the slightly wary grimace melting on your face, allowing a soft confusion to step in.

“No what?” You mutter.

He walks to you slowly, and grabs your hand, taking it to his chest, pressing it flat against his clothed skin, over his heart. You can feel his heartbeat, a not-too-slow rhythm: thump, thump, thump.

“Call me by a pet name. Any pet name.” He says, his tone equally firm and soft. “Call me by a pet name and say you love me.”

He’s serious, but god, so fucking nervous. His brain is slowly melting away because he’s so bad with words and he isn’t sure any action could be enough. He’s already blushing.

“I, huh… I love you, jagi.” You mumble, still confused.

And even if you don’t say it as fondly as always, or if your smile isn’t beaming like how it usually did, you can feel his heartbeat quickening.

“You can feel it, right?” His eyes are soft and worried.

Oh, God. You just know you’ve gotta be pouting. It’s hard to react with words, and the only thing you can fathom doing is linking your arms behind his nape and sinking your face on the crook of his neck.

“Min, I’m so sorry.”

“N-no, kitten.” He mumbles, hugging you tightly too. “I am the one who’s sorry.”

He breathes in, drowning in your soft fragrance. Home. It’s you, it’s warm, and he loves it.

He loves you.

So, he says it. He has to say it. He can’t not say it.

“I love you.”

And it feels so good to let it out that he chuckles. He has to say it again. “I love you.” And again. “God, I love you.” Just once more. “I love you so much.” He’s giggling like a fool, but he’s a fool in love, and that makes him blush even more. “I can’t not love you. Not loving you would turn everyday into Mondays. Like, I can get it tattoed if you want me to. I just. I love you so much that ‘I love you’ can’t even—.”

You move from his shoulder, now facing him, and you cradle his face, pulling him in a kiss that’s so sweet that threatens to give both of you type 1 diabetes.

“Y-you’re crying.” Minho mumbles, softly brushing the stray tears away with his thumb.

“It’s your fault, silly.” You sniff, giggling too. “How can you say stuff like that?”

Your heart is beating like crazy, the butterflies in your stomach are multiplying by seconds and in your cheeks glistens a bright and deep shade of pink.

You want to say it too. But in his own way.

So, you take his hand and settle it on your chest. Right above your heart.

It’s a rapid thump thump thump that Minho feels right away. He can’t help but smile widely.

“I super-mega-love you.” He teases, picking you up in between his arms.

You’re laughing, squirming in his hold.

“Lee Minho! Put me down!”

But he just grips your body tighter to his, and walking as if you weighted nothing, heading towards your bed, plopping you down there.

“Good girl.” He snickers, and you blush even further. Minho takes your chin tenderly and pecks your lips. For a moment, certain kind of idea flashes through his head, but he just kissed you again, following his previous thought.

He opens your closet with a toothy grin, and halfly eyes the window before picking up a random shirt, a grey hoodie that used to be his, a dark skirt and your thigh-high socks, going as far as to the suspenders for you.

He then turns to face you, his eyes glowing. He can’t wait to see you all dolled up. Minho feels like a teenager, and he loves it.

“You have twenty minutes.”

You blink at him, and you can’t help but smile, confused.

“I’m taking your cute ass to a date.”

It may not be an instant fix to the struggles to your relationship, but as you two walk down the beach, looking for colourful rocks that match each other’s eye colour, you know that he’s worth fighting for.

Regarding Minho, he happily hums to himself, eyes glued to your figure as you cackle and run in the beach, as you look behind you and giggle at the prints your boots leave in the humid sand.

He smiles, running towards you, tackling you and holding you in his arms.

He’s not letting go anytime soon.

~Kats, who always struggles to choose a picture for the fics because istg lino looks good in every single moment!!

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aubeystawby · 11 months

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➤ SPIDER-VERSE CHARACTERS WITH AN AUTISTIC READER

miles morales, hobie brown, pavitr prabhakar, malala windsor (spider-uk), lyla, gwen stacy, peni parker, margo kess (spider-byte), jess drew, earth-42!miles morales, miguel o'hara

miles! who is surprisingly good at interpreting what you're trying to communicate when you're low on words. it took a bit of practice — his first few attempts of figuring out what you're trying to say leaving quite a bit to be desire — but after the first few times, he's really good at it. you need time alone? he can see it in the certain way you shake your head or bite your lip. you're anxious? just need a shoulder to cry on? he knows exactly what you mean and is there ready to hold you for as long as you need. it's a very impressive talent at this point, you have no idea how he does it

hobie! who — when he noticed you picking up his accent when talking to him — thought you were making a joke/mocking him. he didn't mind that much, but teased you about it before seeing your expression of confusion, until he realised you hadn't realised you were doing it. you even pick up some phrases from him. he also just finds it kind of cool, especially if he overhears you talking to someone else with a slight accent you picked up from him/he notices you imitating someone else's accent in a conversation. he probably picks yours up from you from time-to-time too

pavitr! who stims with you. you're vocal-stimming? he's repeating it back with no shame and suddenly you're both just making noises back-and-forth. you're bouncing up and down because you're really excited? he's bouncing with you too!! you're bouncing your leg nervously? he's doing it too, but this time he doesn't realise — it's just something he picked up from you. you're tapping your fingers on a table/surface because you're anxious or scared? he's drumming his fingers too, making little rythms to help distract you!! if you need someone who won't make you feel weird for stimming, he is your #1 guy

malala! who is really good at helping you when it comes to an autistic meltdown. she knows when to keep her distance, and she's more than fine with staying with you as long as you need, helping you calm down. she understands how distressing it can be, and understands that it can be even worse if you're all alone, so she's there for you. the queen of grounding strategies, she knows so many for like any situation, and is very patient when helping you through with them. she'll also stick around after, helping you and talking things out if you need. she can give pretty good advice, but also knows that talking can be hard and is totally down to just watch a movie with you or something!

lyla! who never judges you for not being able to control your volume. she may be an AI, but you've also been witness to her happily teasing miguel many a time, so it's nice to know she could care, but she doesn't — she really just doesn't mind it! if other people bring up your unpredictable volume, just go and talk to her! she's fun to talk to and if she hears someone made you feel insecure she's not against being just that extra bit annoying to them. if she's 'there' when it happens, she'd probably start talking really loudly too, to mess with whoever commented on it

gwen! who is just as bad with social cues as you are. she can infer some things, but really with how little she picks up on and how similar those things are to the ones you don't pick up on, you wouldn't be surprised if she's autistic too. she tries to be very observant if the two of you are in some sort of social setting, taking note of any social cues she might have missed otherwise. you two have a sort of communication system for moments like these, where she might tap your hand when she's confused or you might whisper a question in her ear subtly. it works surprisingly well, and you've breezed through more social situations than you'd usually be able to with her! there's absolutely awkward moments though where you're both just lost, don't worry though, she's like double awkward and can navigate out of that with sudden laughs or puns

peni! who always has something to chew on with her. with it be lollipops, chewing gum, or even just a random paperclip, she's always got something near her. having gum/something to chew on helps her think so she totally gets it if you ask for some (though it'd probably be a good idea to explain — even just briefly — that it's for a sensory thing and not just you trying to steal all her candy, then she'd be more understanding). if she ever gets a new candy she's never had before or a new flavour of gum, she always tell you excitedly because at this point she shares like half her candy with you (and doesn't mind and all, knowing how helpful it is for you)!

margo! who totally understand when certain songs/sounds sound really stimmy/nice. you know that effect some people put on songs that make it echo back and forth between your ears? she'd totally learn how to put that effect on all your favourite songs knowing that you'd love it. you mention a certain music genre/music technique sounds really stimmy to you? she's recommending you every song she hears that fits that description, she probably has a whole playlist of songs she knows you'd absolutely be stimming aggressively to. she thinks it's so cool that some sounds make you feel like that, and also just loves seeing you happy!

jess! who understands how important schedules can be to you, and how distressing it can be when things don't go as they did yesterday, so she plans everything with that in mind. her life is very all over the place, with being in the spider-society, let alone being spider-woman in general, but makes plans for the things she knows she can control. there's of course times when she's had to frantically call off plans for emergencies or disrupt the schedule, but she always understands it's impact on you and apologises every time. she promises to make it up to you and always does, she's known other autistic before and understands how important the structure is to you. she knows sudden changes suck, to say the least. trust me, if someone's planning like a surprise birthday party or something for you, she's got a few notes and perhaps a very polite "that's a bad idea" to whoever's planning it

earth-42!miles! who has no problems with listening to you ramble. he has a lot of responsibilities and is busy a lot of the time, but when he has down-time and finally gets a chance to rest, he actually loves to hear you infodump. it's so relaxing and comforting for him to just be able to listen to your voice as you talking about your latest hyperfixation, or having conversations with him about your special interest(s). he genuinely does listen, and sometimes he's very tired so he might not catch all of what you're saying, but he's definitely making an effort to listen to you. when he has more energy, he'll have proper conversations with you about all these things. that's when you really know he's been listening, when he asks questions, and there's something special in his eyes that tells you he really does care and he really does love to listen to you

miguel! who — when he first met you — found it really hard to communicate with you. he was used to people not exactly being fond of him, or being rather quiet when he was angry, but there was something a little off-putting about the way you were around him. it took a lot of asking lyla to talk to you and just observation to figure out you weren't the best with figuring tone. from then on he's more careful, not dancing around subjects at all — not that he used to really do that, but he makes a conscious effort to avoid that — and being as clear as possible as he can with his voice & body language. he absolutely tries to let you know he's open to you asking a clarifying question if you're still confused too. your confusion isn't really completely avoidable, it's just who you are, but he does everything he can to make things easier for you!

i absolutely LOVED writing these so much!! if you want to request another post like this, or a fic with any spider-verse character and an autistic reader, please do!! i'm not sure if i've seen any spider-verse x reader fics with autistic representation yet, so i'm more than happy to be the one to write those for you all! 💛 i also might have missed some characters in this, so if you want to request these kinds of headcanons for a character i forgot about, feel free to!!

(i love writing for less popular characters like margo, malala, peni, etc, so please do request anything for them too because i totally wanna write more for them in the future!!!)

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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Okay so the poll results were for an OC captain, though it was close enough that I still hesitate to name him in the canon of the fic.

I’m also going to be taking my time fleshing out his character because it’s been a while since I made an OC. So please be patient while I add tidbits here and there to build his character.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex, descriptions of scars, mentions of past torture

Nikto beats you and Nova twice out of three rounds — but that’s no surprise. The man moves like a machine. Even against two opponents he controls the battlefield like a chess master. Neither you nor Nova take it to heart, especially since he always gives you both advice at the end, helping you to improve.

He’s a great partner, a great teammate; you’re sure to show him your appreciation after sparring with a kiss to his nose-plate. His hands spasm on yours as he helps you unwind your wraps, gloved thumb sweeping over your bare palm.

“You did good today,” he says, voice rough and accent thick. He must be pissed about earlier still, when Ghost and Soap threw your matches with them.

“So did you,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asks.

You damn near melt. Nikto has an open invitation to your room, but his is a sacred place, only for him unless otherwise specified. That he’s asking you to come to his tonight…

“Absolutely,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I just need to see the captain first. Okay?”

He grunts in understanding, eyes flicking to the door the 141 left through earlier. He mutters something in Russian — some insult about goats and mothers you think.

“Yeah, exactly,” you reply, voice dropping with simmering irritation.

A good spar with him and Nova has helped ground you a bit, but it hasn’t helped the anger. You don’t spar any of your team with anger; they don’t deserve.

Luckily, you and your captain worked something out a while ago when you’re feeling a bit… aggressive.

“Cap?” You call, still holding Nikto’s hand. “Could I stop by for a nightcap later?”

His eyes flash, a sinful twist to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, babygirl. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Over his shoulder, you see Nova arch her eyebrows and Keegan grin wicked into his water bottle. Gossip fiends.

“Showers. Now,” the cap says, slapping them both on the ass. “Double time. I need to have a word with Price still.”

—

Long after the sun has gone down, you’re standing outside your captain’s door. Take a breath. Remind yourself of your mantra. He wants you, always will, and he’s going to take care of you.

Then loosen your shoulders, unboxing all the frustration and aggression you set aside earlier. Feel it burn through you, make your hands twitch in and out of fists.

One more inhale, and then you shove the door open.

“There you are,” he rumbles. “C’mere.”

You flash your teeth, “No.”

He tilts head back and forth, cracking his neck. “Alright then.”

There’s no real fight. You’re not looking to get away or actually hurt him. And he’s not looking to actually make you submit. That’s not the point of this game.

He strides across the room and shoves you back, pins your shoulder to the wall. You grip at his forearm, nails scraping, and squirming as the hot, hard length of his body squishes you flat.

“Settle,” he orders.

“Fuck you,” you snarl back, nipping his lip.

He growls, tangling a hand in your hair and tipping your head back. Leaves a searing trail of kisses down your throat, bites a bruise into your collarbone. You wriggle and fuss all the while, safely held still and supported by his hands and body.

“Brat,” he rasps in your ear.

“I’m not,” you snap.

“Oh, yes you are, babygirl,” he replies, a mean smirk on his flushed face. “But that’s alright, I like you bad.”

He pulls you from the wall, bullies you onto the bed. You try to grab at him, get him under you. He doesn’t indulge like he normally would. Pins you on your back so that you can keep fighting, yanking at your wrists in his firm grip, pushing your hips up to grind into his as if trying to flip you both.

He slots his hips between your thighs, positions just his knees under your ass so that your back is arched, shoulders on the mattress. Limits your mobility, but that doesn’t stop you from kicking at air, making half-angry, half-desperate noises in the back of your throat.

“Gonna say please like a good girl?” He teases.

“No,” you hiss back.

He has the audacity to chuckle, which just riles you up more. (It’s supposed to). You curse as he works a hand beneath your shirt, palms at your bare breasts and pinches your nipples until they ache. You gasp like a pornstar, surprised and turned on.

“Pretty noise,” he coos. “Do it again.”

When he twists, you mewl, face immediately burning up as you renew your “efforts” to get away. All it does is make the treatment rougher than if you just laid still and took it, but that’s what you want, what feels good. A little edge to the pleasure as adrenaline and energy electrify you from head to toe.

He grinds against you, cotton of your loose shorts sticking against your soaked cunt. Christ you were turned on before you even barged in. Now you’re fucking throbbing for it.

“Gimme,” you grit out, rocking against him. Gears successfully shifted from physically taking control to just ordering him around.

“Give you what, brat?” He goads, slapping your pussy. The thin fabric muffles the sting, but it sends a white-hot ache through you that makes your eyes roll. “My cock? You think you deserve it?”

Another slap. You cry out, notice the sly look on his face when he notices that you’ve soaked through your shorts.

“Yes,” you reply, all confidence and reckless arrogance.

He yanks his underwear down to mid thigh, thick cock springing up to smack lewdly against his toned stomach. Precum smears over the pale scars there, sticks in the trail of groomed hair there.

“Yeah?” He growls. “Alright then.”

He yanks the crotch of your shorts aside (you hear stitches pop) and then he’s plunging into you. It’s too much all at once and you cry as much, knees squeezing around his tattooed ribs.

“Fuck.” His voice is shredded, so rough and low you feel it more than hear it. He lets your wrists go to grip at your ass, grinding deeper. Can feel the fat head of his cock bullying at your cervix, his favorite passtime while you adjust to the thick base of him.

“How does that feel, babygirl?” He murmurs in your ear. “You needed daddy’s cock, huh? Needed it to set you right again?”

You whimper out a curse at him, gripping at his biceps. He croons mockingly, thumb slipping between your bodies to press at your clit. Not rubbing or grinding, but just pressing. Just the right amount to make you sweat and pant, start trying to squirm to get any friction at all.

He lets you — could stop you if he wanted, or pull away entirely — but he likes winding you up like this. Likes seeing all that vicious energy turned to seeking pleasure from him.

“Fucking move,” you try to snarl, but your voice breaks midway through and comes out more pleading than you’d like.

“What was that, babydoll? Are you talking to me?” He teases, rolling his hips.

Your mouth falls open, a moan ripping from your chest, deep and needy.

“Daddy, move,” you cry, voice going up in pitch.

“There’s my brat.”

He pushes one of your knees up against your chest and slams into you. You scream and he doesn’t even try to cover your mouth, whispering filth as he tilts your hips for the best angle with his other hand. Fucks into you deep and rough, grinning at the obscenely wet noises every time he plunges into you.

Can practically feel him fucking your cervix open to get just that little bit deeper. Licks his lips when he sees the little bump in your stomach. You give as good as you get, squeezing down tight, bouncing to meet him, nails scoring lines down his back and shoulders.

“Gonna ask daddy to make you cum?” He goads.

“Earn it,” you reply.

He laughs and pulls out, flips you onto your stomach while you’re still dizzy with emptiness. Hikes your hips up and sinks into you like coming home. Your knees almost give out but that’s fine by him, he’s plenty strong enough to hold you up all on his own, using you like a noisy little toy for his own benefit.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine, feeling overwhelmed, pleasured tears gathering in your eyes. Then, in a whisper, “Daddy…”

“Feel like being good yet?” He asks. A large, rough hand circles that back of your neck and pins you face down to the mattress.

“N-no,” you whine, fight gone out of you now that you’re getting exactly what you want.

Fuck it feels so, so good. Every inch bullying you wide open and loose, so wet you’re dripping down your own thighs, wetting his ball as they slap against you. You feel split open and pinned, unable to do anything but take it, tortured stupid on ecstasy. He licks a stripe up your back before pressing you down prone, ankles locked around yours to keep you open and accessible.

“S’alright, doll, don’t need to be good to be mine.”

He’s barely pulling out halfway before ramming home now. You can barely get a breath in, the weight of him pressing whatever resistance was left right out of you.

“Daddy, daddy,” you sob. “Fuck, I wan’ it.”

“Want it, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, pressing your face into your arms. Cant your hips just that little bit to get him abusing that bundle of nerves.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He coos. “Did daddy find your little sweet spot?”

A series of short, ruthless thrusts right there, making incoherent, desperate noises fall from your mouth. Before you realize it, he’s wedged a hand beneath your hips and has two fingers toying with your poor, neglected clit.

“‘M gonna… f-fuck, fuck,” you whine, writhing (or at least trying to) against him. Not sure if you’re trying to urge him on or get away. Doesn’t matter, he’s in charge, has been since the beginning. “Daddy, I wanna…”

“Whenever you want, babygirl,” he replies, voice going all warm and gooey. Your chest hitches. “Squeeze around me nice and tight. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

Didn’t realize that was what you needed, but you fucking scream as you clench down around him, stars bursting behind your closed eyes. He fucks you through it, tapping against your g-spot again and again until you dissolve into a weak, wet whimpers.

“Daddyyyy,” you whine.

And that sets him off, flooding you with heat. He loses control for a second as his hips jerk, pounding brutally into your oversensitive, swollen pussy. Makes a few tears finally slip down, soaking into the sheets along with your drool. The sound of him groaning as he cums makes you spasm around him again, a little aftershock that milks the last of his release.

“That’s it, easy,” he groans, brushing kisses over your trembling shoulders. “Easy, doll.”

He lies over you for a few minutes, letting you feel him there. Right there with you. Breathing and recovering, holding you through the endorphin rush. When you squirm a bit, he eases off you, cock slipping out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum trickling out of you, glassy eyes fluttering.

“C’mere,” he soothes, tugging you in. Lying on his side, he hitches one of your thighs up over his hip, tucks your arms between your chests and rests his stubbly chin on your temple. You splay your fingers over his peck, over the bold, dark symbol for SpecGru. Feel his heart settling back into rhythm and sigh, snuggling in.

The hormone drop is a monster on your emotions, often leaves you shivery and lonely, a little sick in your own body. First time you did this with him ended in tears, expecting him to get up and leave. He didn’t, never has, but you both learned that as much physical contact as possible in the aftermath eases the comedown away from a total crash.

“You did so well, babygirl,” he whispers, leaving kisses everywhere he can reach without dislodging you. “Such a good girl. Even if you think you’re being bad.”

You flush, hide your face against his neck. He chuckles, honeybalm on your soul. Can feel his hand start to move, then pause as he remembers that you can’t handle that stimulation right after sex. So he just squeezes, slow and gentle, helps get you back in your body.

“I still want you,” he assures, echoing your mantra back at you. “Always will. You’re mine.”

You outline a heart shape onto his forearm, not quite able to speak yet. He recognize the feeling though and gently guides your face up to place a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Love you, too, babygirl. Ready to clean up?”

You nod. He eases you up, lets you cling onto his hand as he walks you to the en suite. Fills you a glass of cool water to sip on while he gets the shower running. Turns his back while you use the restroom and wash your hands, then guides you into the hot water.

You lean into him, near boneless, as he washes you, calloused palms with soap instead of a cloth. Then sits still, hands on your hips, while you return the favor. This part is one of the most important for you, getting to freely return touch.

(Simon hardly ever let you touch, especially in the aftermath. Sure, you could scratch and grip at him during sex, but during foreplay it was all part of his dom persona that you couldn’t just touch at will. And afterwards… well. It’s not like he didn’t do aftercare. He did! But the almost formulaic warm cloth wipe down, glass of water, doze for a bit before he left was not… not ideal. Not like this.)

Your captain hums, eyes half-lidded but trained on you, while you smooth your palms over the firms planes of his muscles. Fingers tracing over tattoos and scars. Squishing and patting at the healthy layer of tissue over his stomach and thighs. Lets you nuzzle and kiss his soft cock, even though it makes his fingers twitch with oversensitivity.

Squeezes when you lace fingers together to stretch his arm out, inspecting the lines your nails carved into him.

“M’okay, baby,” he says before you can ask. “Feels good.”

You similarly assure him over the bruises on your wrists and hips, smiling and leaning up to kiss his jaw.

When the shower is over, he dries you off, playfully ruffling your hair just to kiss the pout off your lips. He dresses you in one of his shirts and a spare pair of your own joggers, found in his duffel.

You sit with him for a while longer still, enjoying how he lets himself relax once he knows you’re taken care of. He lies with his head on your chest, your fingers fluffing his hair, while the two of you watch an episode of some stupid show Keegan got the rest of the team into.

Only when it’s over does he ask if you’re ready to go to Nikto’s. If you wanted to stay, you could. Nikto would understand. But you’re looking forward to a night with your quiet Russian while the other three have a little movie night.

At the door, you kiss your captain goodnight. Hug and kiss Keegan and Nova as you pass them in the hall headed to his room. Nova makes a point of kissing one of the bruises on your wrist, while Keegan whispers that he loves you.

You pad to the first door in the hall, where Nikto has stationed himself as the team guard dog. You tap gently at the door, a pre-determined pattern to let him know who it is.

The door cracks open, one startling blue eye peering from the darkness.

“Evening, Nik,” you coo.

A hand reaches out and gently yanks you inside. And then next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in thick arms devoid of any usual covering. You feel smothered, in a good way.

“Love,” he rasps in Russian into your hair.

You hum in return. Place your palms flat on his abdomen. The muscles clench, you pause as you realize his abs, impressive as they are, feel too defined. He needs water. Taking mental note, you draw your hands carefully around, feeling the raised bumps of wicked scars. Make sure he can track exactly where and how you’re touching until your arms are wrapped around him in a return hug.

“Smell good,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” You giggle. “Showered just for you.”

He snorts, then scoops you up. You make a delighted noise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you across the room. Of course his navigation is impeccable, even in pitch black. He lays you down on the bed, but before he can crawl up with you, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re dehydrated.”

He makes an annoyed noise, sounds like he’s about to protest. You shush him with a quick peck to his chest.

“Get a glass please? I could use some water myself.”

Which has him instantly moving. You politely turn away as the bathroom light flicks on, the water runs. Can hear him chug two entire glasses before he fills it one final time. The light turns off again. The bed dips as he returns, presses the cool edge gently to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmur, sipping about a quarter of it to appease him before he sets aside for you on a bedside table.

And then he gets what he really wants, stripping you down and tucking you in like a nesting bird. Practically on top of you while you’re still reeling from how much skin you can feel. Even during intimacy, he tends to stay clothed or mostly clothed. But right now all you can feel is a pair of underwear against your bare ass. Everywhere else it’s miles of warm skin, uncovered muscle and texture of scars.

“This is nice,” you coo. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

You wiggle around until you’re chest to chest. Start with his hands. Kiss each smooth fingertip, prints flayed off. Then his palms, the divots from nails driving through. Flip them over to kiss his scarred knuckles, smile at the way he twitches, flexing them outward like he’s trying not to close his hand.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You kiss his wrists, his forearms, to his collarbone. You’ve peeked a blue-black tattoo there before. Stars and the start of something that might be religious. Spend a little extra time there, tongue peeking out. He shifts; you take it as a sign of discomfort and move on.

“Here next,” he says when you dip to go to his chest.

He guides your face up his neck, where you press long (but chaste) kisses until you bump his jaw. And realize that’s all skin too.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Can I…?”

“Yes.”

You feather your lips along his fresh-shaved jaw, the nicked scars on his chin. Then up, ignoring the wicked scar along his cheek. Breathe against his temple, feeling dizzy with the trust he’s showing you.

“I love you,” you whisper, continuing along to his nose, twice broken and poorly set each time. A line over one nostril where a piercing was ripped out. He makes a noise in his throat, think he might be having trouble speaking again. Don’t mind.

He lets you get down to his mouth, where a particularly twisted scar warps part of his upper lip away from his teeth. You think that if you saw it in the light, his canine would be visible. His lower lip is uneven too, like a misaligned seam.

You don’t pay any special attention to any of it, focused more on reacquainting yourself with how your mouth fits with his. He doesn’t lead, doesn’t rush or pull or press. But there’s tension all along his body, everywhere you touch. You don’t ask for more than a chaste kiss, and when you pull away, you tilt your forehead gently against his.

“Still okay?” You ask.

“Still okay.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #the captain #cod nikto #the captain x reader #specgru reader #former 141 reader #nikto x reader

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ginnsbaker · 9 months

Text

Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her.

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet.

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue.

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes.

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation.

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you.

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents.

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold.

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act.

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger.

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name.

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters.

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening.

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #fic request

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