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rggie · 2 years

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things they do during the ‘honeymoon phase’

characters: idia shroud, malleus draconia, vil schoenheit

summary: little things they start to do in the early stages of your relationship.

cw: gn!reader, fluff, sfw, vil does your makeup

idia gets into your interests

“you know that game you like? it’s actually… alright.” idia says out of the blue, last word enunciated slowly as though he had been mulling over his word choice. he actually enjoyed the game very much, but he wasn’t going to tell you that—choosing to feign nonchalance, doing finger pushups against his desk in an attempt to look somewhat occupied.

you can’t help but beam. “you actually played it?!” you’re leaning in so, so close to him, the apples of his cheeks instantly grow rosy and he finds himself looking anywhere but your bright, hopeful eyes. he was the making you this happy? just by playing a game? (he decides this expression was one he wanted to see more often—if he could bring himself to look your way, that is.)

“w-well i didn’t get too far but from where i was, the lore seems interesting and the characters are cute, and…” he pauses, sneaking a glance at you. you’re hanging onto his every word, urging him to keep rambling on. “the graphics are cool too. i guess.” he internally facepalms. he should shut up. why did you care so much about his opinion, anyway?

“just give me your game id so i can add you–” idia’s mid-sentence when his words are cut off by a whisper of thanks and an odd, feverish sensation on his right cheek that ends faster than he can process. he short-circuits.

if his face had been flushed before, he’s certain his hair is now a similar shade, blue ends blossoming into dahlia pink as his breath hitches, heart thrumming against his chest rather suddenly.

“hh… it was nothing really. i mean, i guess it was pretty easy for a pro like me.” you were doing wonders for his ego. he’s baring his teeth, flashing his wide signature smile before his lips ghost over yours apprehensively.

“i-if i played more, would you kiss me again?”

malleus ensures your safety

“you really don’t have to walk me home!” you’re flailing your arms about a little helplessly as he meets your stride with a chuckle.

“but i want to. it’s also night-time.” he reminds you, ignoring the fact that you’re in a boarding school with sufficient security, and also had his retainers trailing after you, currently hiding in the bushes in an attempt to be somewhat inconspicuous. “making sure that you get home safe eases my worries considerably.”

well, when he puts it like that… you don’t have the heart to deny him.

as your shoulders bump, malleus wonders how your hands would feel in his. were you the type to intertwine fingers when holding hands, or did simply having one hand rest on top of another suffice? were your hands smaller, or bigger? his digits brush against your own, but retract themselves just as fast.

the action doesn’t go unnoticed. even after putting a label on your relationship, he’d still be hesitant initiating any sort of skin-ship. it’s as though he expects you to cower and shy away, when all you want to do is revel in his affection. so you stop walking.

malleus, lost in his own thoughts, continues on ahead, and you bite your tongue trying not to snicker when he finally breaks out of his reverie to see you’re no longer by his side. he beckons you over, forehead wrinkling slightly as he huffs and juts his lips out into a pout. cute. “what are you doing?”

“mal, we’re dating. you can hold my hand, you know.” surveying his tentative demeanour, you add: “it’d make me feel more secure if you did.”

“oh.” his pout is replaced by a coy smile as you meet his side once again.

“if that’s how you feel,” he squeezes your hand, swinging it back and forth before raising it with childlike awe. he’s brimming with unfathomable tenderness as you lock eyes; you match his expression, teetering between bashfulness and contentment. “then we should’ve done this sooner.”

vil listens your criticisms

“–and so i just told him straight: if that’s the role i’m going to be offered, then i’ll take my leave.” vil finishes his rant as you hum in acknowledgment, eyes closed as you try your best to stay still. he’s putting some sort of powder all over your face, and you resist the urge to scrunch your nose at the ticklish sensation of brush hairs flicking across your profile. “i can imagine how you strutted out.” you giggle.

though your eyes are closed, you know he’s rolling his eyes at your remark as he holds your shoulder firmly to stop it from moving with the tremors of your laugh. “well? what would you have done?”

you’re silent for a couple beats, pursing your lips in contemplation. “i suppose i would’ve tried to compromise. i think you should’ve asked about other roles instead of leaving right away when you didn’t get what you wanted.” the room seems to still, and you feel like retracting your words when he doesn’t reply immediately. “vil?”

“you’re right.” other than rook, you were the only one brave enough to talk to him straightforwardly, lacking any semblance of falsity. “i think i needed to hear that.” vil carries on working away, spraying you with something you only recently learned (courtesy of him, of course) was ‘setting spray’. an odd, guttural noise comes from your boyfriend’s throat—you’re not sure if that’s a particularly positive or negative sign. “you can open your eyes.”

adjusting to the sudden brightness, you blink thrice before peering at yourself in the vanity mirror. “so? am i beautiful now?” you tease light-heartedly, posing as he pulls you into taking a quick selfie before pocketing his phone again.

he admires your sanguine features and his hard work, feeling a smile tug against the corners of his lips; he lets it grow wide, because he supposes there’s no need to play pretend. you always see right through him anyway. he presses a kiss to your nose, careful not to smudge the silvery highlight on it’s tip. “you’re already beautiful.”

he likes you so much it’s detestable.

#idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst fic #twst hcs #twst drabble #twst fluff #🐾・/ rggie twst

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sinner-sunflower · 2 months

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A HH Lucifer-centric AU 11/?

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22

I'm sorry if this feels a bit fast-paced but I am not writing 1 month's worth of Luci's journey on Earth alksjdlas

Everything is tying up very nicely.

The ending is already being written and this chapter has a lot of clues on what will happen next.

To any ARTISTS or WRITERS who want to make something based on this AU, you have my full permission! All I ask is I want to read/see it!

Your reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated.

And feel free to chat with me if you have any theories or AUs or this AU of your own!

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The thing about being immortal and whose existence started since the beginning of well- everything- is that it is literally just a concept.

Centuries feel like minutes. Days into seconds. Seconds into basically nothing.

Hell, the only reason why Lucifer knew 7 years had passed since Lilith left was because he was counting. He wanted to be reminded of the pain of losing the first person he ever loved.

Call him a bad father but he genuinely doesn't know how long since he has seen Charlie.

He knows it's been a while but he didn't realize just how much longer it was. He missed out on so many years of his daughter's life because he couldn't stop being fucking sad.

Charlie probably has something to say about that mentality but he can't help it.

So when Lucifer takes a whole month of scouring Earth before he finds what he's looking for, he curses himself.

Didn't he just arrive on Earth a few hours ago? Now that he thinks about it, following that wild duck chase (it's goose, dear) should've been a dead giveaway that he was taking too long.

He should've known seeing the sun and moon appearing at that many intervals meant days were flying by.

It's not entirely his fault. Pride's days and nights are basically the same- plus it's not like he needs sleep. It was bound to fuck up his body clock.

Judging by how there are no effects in the human world yet, they're still probably keeping the Roo situation at bay. He's grateful for his siblings but it only makes him move more urgently.

Lucifer arrives at a grassy field on a hill in the middle of nowhere.

It was warm, but the wind is making sure the skin doesn't burn by the sun's rays. He looks around and spots a woman-like figure under the shade of the line tree- her short hair dancing with the wind.

Lucifer walks loudly to her but she doesn't acknowledge his presence. Only when he is standing in her line of sight does she react.

Unknown: Hello, Lucifer.

Lucifer: Goodie.

The Good of Humanity. The being he unintentionally corrupted by his actions.

Goodie: To what do I owe the pleasure.

Lucifer: I need your help. It's about your sister.

Goodie: Hmm? Well then. Come sit. It appears we have a lot to talk about ~

Lucifer sits and takes a deep breath.

Lucifer: Roo- Roo is breaking out. It's only a matter of time before she fully escapes and we are not strong enough to seal her back up again with her stronger state. Hell will-

Goodie stops his rambling by placing a hand on his.

Goodie: Calm now, angel.

Lucifer:… sorry.

Goodie: You say my sister is coming back?

Lucifer: Yes. She's eating her way out of hell and if we don't stop her soon, my people- my family are going to die. I am never above begging so please- help us.

There was a pregnant pause before Goodie spoke up again.

Goodie: I do not have the power you are looking for.

Lucifer: But..

Goodie: But! I never said I would not help.

Lucifer: you'll help Hell?

Goodie: I am the embodiment of good. I can see how much of it someone has inside their heart and right now… your heart is as full as it is pure.

Lucifer: Then how can we-

Goodie: I can lend you something that shall be enough to contain her. But for this to work, I need one thing.

Lucifer: What is it?

Goodie finally meets his eyes. He felt like he was looking at everything he destroyed- the failed project that is humanity.

Goodie: You.

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What to look forward to in Part 12:

Luci comes back to hell with Goodie in tow.

Some conflicts started by the overlords

The Lucifer finally gets involve in the ritual

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evilfloralfoolery · 21 days

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Along Came Fire - Avery/Blair, Pt. 2

A lot more snz and misery in this lol. Avery showing her true colors. Blair being unbearably into it. Both of them wondering about the other. Plz enjoy my hasty edit! :)

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By the time the heaters in the stadium get the memo, the set is over and Blair has had just about enough of this frigid bullshit.

He’d managed to fend off whatever fuckery his sinuses were concocting during the performance, but now, it’s gotten to the point where no amount of shallow breathing and nose rubbing will do the trick. His body has just had enough of him.

And the feeling is fucking mutual.

Blair cringes against his knuckled fingers with a flash of teeth. "HhhRISSCH! –RIIHHHSSCHuh! EKTSSCH! UhhhCHHSSSH!" He pauses, breath a hitching, ragged heave. "Hhh–RIISSSCCHHiiiuuhh!"

"What, you're not going to try for an even six?”

He stops with the miserable, wet sniffling and glances over his shoulder.

It's her. Just standing there with a laminate around her neck, like she belongs there. No idea where she’d gotten the pass, but he’s not going to ask questions, especially not with the way she’s looking at him right now. Kind of like how the Blond Wonder looked at him, but with a more curious sort of concern rather than outright, overly empathetic gawking.

Hard not to stare back at that mane of hers with all the red, orange, and yellow competing for space, a vibrant cascade of fire that has the nerve to call itself “hair.”

“Hey.” She waves a hand in front of his face with a bit of a laugh. “Are you okay in there?”

He offers her a slow blink in tandem with the realization that he has said nothing to indicate an answer.

“I am,” he says. “Just too damn cold.” One eyebrow arches high. “Are you?”

She tilts her head. “Cold?”

“Okay,” he clarifies.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine.” She combs her hair away from her face with one hand and laughs. "I’m pretty sure I left puncture wounds on that idiot, so there’s that."

Probably. He hadn't missed how aggressive she'd been. Kind of a firecracker for such a slender chick.

Hot.

"Yeah, well. Guys are assholes." He offers her a smirk. "But I'm a bigger asshole."

"Good quality, if you ask me." Her smile is a sly mirror of his own.

“Damn straight.” He tugs at the knot on his bandana out of habit. “Avery, right?”

“Yep.” She pokes him in the chest with one finger. “You didn’t tell me you were the bass player.”

Cue the smartass eyebrow arch. “You didn’t ask.”

“I don't usually introduce myself and then be like, ‘so, do you play the bass?’ ”

“Why not. Good conversation starter.”

She flicks a piece of his hair with a pop of her fingers. “You're weird.”

He’ll take that.

But what he’s not going to take is any more shit from his sinuses. Sort of. Goddamn it.

She does the curious, cocked head thing again at his abrupt change of energy and asks the obvious question. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’ssss uuhhh-hhhheh!” He holds up a hand to politely silence furthering questioning, breath catching in his throat with a choppy attempt to draw in enough air. "Heeh-hh. . . Hh'RISSSCHU! Hkg–CHISSSHUHH! Fuck." He rubs at his nose with a sniffle. "Hhngh, sorry. The cold fucks me up."

"I can tell," she says as he sneezes again with twice the force and less control.

Goddamn it.

"God bless," she says in this voice that's somewhere between concerned and a bit. . . something else.

Interesting . . .

"Stick around and you'll get sick of saying that real fast," he says.

She laughs, but doesn't refute him. She does, however, close the distance between them unexpectedly. "Hold on." A hand reaches up to adjust the apparently lopsided bandana tied around his head. "You're about to sneeze this off."

"Heh, thanks." He fiddles with the knot on the thing and tightens it. "Wouldn't be the first time." He regards her with a slow, assessing tilt of his head. “Feel like sticking around?”

Her eyes are the lightest shade of honey gold he’s ever seen. And to think she asked him about contacts.

“Sure,” she says. “You might need someone to fix that bandana again.” A faint hint of super white and slightly pointed teeth peek from behind her lips, which is so absurdly attractive to him, he shoves a hand in his pocket to keep it to himself.

But that still leaves him with one. Which he holds out to her.

It only takes her a second to decide to fork over her fingers, which slide into the width of his palm like something delicate and precious. Compared to Blair, most people are on the smaller side, but while Avery is tall, she's particularly slender of frame, a fact that is emphasized by the tight black pants and matching bodysuit with strategically placed fabric slashes she’d chosen for the gig. It highlighted the fuck out of her multi-colored hair. Like autumn leaves in a jeweled pit fire.

“Hungry?” he asks as he leads her down the rowdy expanse of the corridor where musicians and techs alike are loudly congratulating themselves over the success of the show.

“I could eat something,” she says.

So could he.

______________________________________

The booth is a semicircle, not one of those across the table deals. And she sits close to him, so close that her leg presses against his thigh.

He's not sure what he's done to elicit that kind of contact, but he wants more. So, he does the cheesy movie thing and drapes an arm across her shoulders, casually at first, but when she willingly curls closer against his side, he ups his game with an upper arm squeeze.

Damn, she smells good. Like spring rain and oleander.

"Are you still cold?"

He nuzzles her thick hair. "Not as much."

Mainly because she's a fucking furnace, like a personal space heater. No complaints from him.

Well, except for the goddamn prickling the "defrost" is causing in his sinuses. No, dammit. He's not unwinding his arm from her lithe body.

He unrolls the napkin-wrapped silverware and snaps the thing open, but doesn't quite make it.

"HhhRISSCH! ISSCCHUH!" His lip curls away from his teeth in a snarl of irritation and he clamps the napkin over his mouth and nose. "AahhRISSCHuh! IKGSSSH-U!" He sniffles and dabs at his nose with a hint of a smirk. "Hnnnh, sorry I'm so goddamn sexy."

She laughs in a high, almost tittering way that is reminiscent of something he can't quite place, but he likes it.

"I think I can handle you." She hooks a piece of his hair that escaped his bandana behind one ear. "God bless."

Her breath tickles his ear and coaxes the hair on his arms to stark attention.

"Hmn, thanks." His voice drops to a lower, darker version of itself. "You want a steak?"

"Sure," she says. "Purrs" is a better word. "I like meat."

The way she says that is hotter than it has any right to be.

"Yeah?" He rubs at his nose with the back of his hand. "How do you like your meat?"

Her lips brush the line of his jaw with scantist touch. "Extra rare."

Okay, fuck it.

He shifts his body just enough to slide a hand into her hair and leans in close, pausing just shy of capturing that mischievous mouth of hers. Makes her wait for it. Teases her with a faint exchange of breath. But when the tip of her tongue darts out to just barely flick his lower lip, he’s over it.

And damn, can she kiss. It’s electricity and fire, the slow, smoldering promise of something far more urgent, but deftly restrained. His body finally gets the message and switches on the heat until his skin is feverishly hot. Sharp nails dig into his shoulders just enough to make temporary, pointed crescents in the flesh and he sits back against the vinyl seat as the kiss recedes, the faintest wisp of smoke curling from his lips.

“Goddamn.” His eyes flutter shut for a moment and he exhales a breath from the depths of his chest, as if he’d been holding it for hours.

Nails drag down his forearm in a light, affectionate scratch. “Been a while?”

“Oh yeah,” he says.

A long fucking while.

__________________________________________________________

The seated dinner had turned into “fuck an hour wait, room service is better” and man, had he made the right choice.

The idiots in the kitchen had forgotten the steak knives and rather than ask some underpaid kid to go seventeen floors down to get a couple, Blair and his “date” had opted for the more barbaric option.

Just pick the shit up and eat it.

Now, watching Avery snack on that rare slab of meat was hotter than any porno could ever be. There is something primal about the way she takes small, but efficient bites of the steak, the way she sort of tears off a chunk and licks her fingers afterwards. And when he doesn't eat the entirety of his own steak, she finishes it for him.

Where the hell had she put it all? The woman is a slender wisp of a person.

If that’s what she actually is.

It's the same thing with Caspian. A flash of something wild. That “otherness.” He’s seen it before. Plenty of times.

“I don’t usually do this, you know,” she is saying as she licks the last of the blood and juices from between her fingers.

“And what’s that?”

She flashes him her super pearly whites. “Eat meat with strange men.”

He chuckles and it morphs into a bit of a cough, reminding him that the surge of heat between them earlier hadn’t been enough of a catalyst to jumpstart his body into actually doing anything about his damn "illness."

Her expression morphs from playful to concerned and she sets the plate on the nightstand. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah.” He wipes at the edges of his nose with a clean napkin and winces. “Still too goddamn cold, I guess.”

That fucking nose ring. Not like he could just take the bastard out without some pliers. Special ones.

Avery moves closer, but he holds up a hand to stop her progress, his breath hitching in ragged, uneven catches.

“Hhheh—! RISSSCCH–UHH! ISSCCHHU! Mother. Fucker.” He growls to himself and drops the napkin in favor of the box of tissues that she’s now offering him.

Fuck it, he’s taking the whole box.

“Thanks,” he says in a tone that is way more grumbling grouchiness than he means it to be.

But she’s obviously not put off by that because she’s suddenly right beside him, her hand on his thigh, even though he’s gross as hell whilst taking care of his dripping sinuses.

“Sorry,” he says with a sigh. “Was hoping this shit would just let up or fuck off.”

“Stop apologizing.” She rolls her eyes a little and he’s reminded of the same exasperation Caspian uses for Miami, which is more than a touch amusing. “I’m not worried about your cold or whatever it is.” She tosses all of that flaming hair over one shoulder. “I like a guy that can be a hot mess and own it.”

Blair laughs. “Jackpot, then.”

“You can lie down, you know.” She pats the top of his free hand. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you’re tired.”

After tossing the tissues into the trash, he slips her fingers into his palm and scratches his thumbnails over her knuckle. “Mmn, I’m not that tired.”

She leans in for a kiss and he affords her the opportunity with eager reception. Doesn't stop her when she presses herself against him again. In fact, he pretty much pulls her into his lap and she’s happy to be there, given the way she’s kicked off her boots and settled in.

“I’m not contagious,” he says.

Her hands slide over his chest and clutch the fabric of his shirt. “Wouldn’t care if you were.”

“Want me to take this off?” He tugs at the edge of his shirt.

“No,” she says. “I want to take it off.”

If his eyebrow arched any higher, it would disappear into his hairline. “Okay.” He leans back against the bed frame and lets go of her hips. “All yours.”

(TBC...)

#Eff writes #Avery and Blair #This is where I stopped writing last time #But I've already written most of a part three lol #You'll find out a lot about these two in that part #Some things will suddenly make sense #And some absolutely won't #OOOOO AAAAHHH A MYSSSTTERRRRYYY #Have I mentioned how great it is to be fucking WRITING again??#Now to compose some music for these two #I'm on FIRE!#LOL pun fully intended #I AM a fire sign after all

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lots-of-pockets · 1 year

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Let me help you

Pairings: Natasha x you

Words: 1668

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha arrives home sick from her latest mission.

Natasha sniffles softly as she wipes off her clammy forehead with the sleeve of her shirt. The remanence of her foundation stains the black material as she pulls her hand back, and though she frowns slightly at the sight -this was one of her favourite shirts- the feeling of becoming exceedingly overheated was taking full priority.

Why in the world was it so hot in here? Was the AC broken or something? With a disgruntled frown, she shifts in her seat in a little in hopes it would help ease her uncomfortableness. It doesn't work, and with a watchful eye on the rest of the people in the room, she begins trying to subtly fan her face with her hand.

You watch her from your place sat opposite, eyes narrowed in suspicion. You were currently sitting through yet another team meeting, and it felt as though Tony had yet to stop talking.

Natasha had been a little quieter than usual today, and you'd initially put it down to her not getting enough sleep. She'd had a pretty tough mission yesterday, and she hadn't gotten back until the early hours of the morning. That wasn't even mentioning the fact she was up again by six to workout.

But that thought had gone out of the window when you'd kissed her earlier. Her skin was almost too warm to the touch, cheeks flushed a light shade of red suggesting a fever. You, however, had no time to question her, because Tony had sent her off to do mission reports.

That was four hours ago, and you were about ninety nine percent sure her fever had only gotten worse. Especially because you knew Natasha wouldn't have had the thought to take any medication. A barely audible sniffle beaks you from your thoughts, and you look over and see Natasha subtly trying to wipe her nose on the sleeve of her shirt.

Her eyes were shiny too, and that along with the way her nostrils were flaring tells you she was doing a pretty good job of trying to stifle a sneeze. This continues for about ten minutes, and it was only when a tear of frustration streams down her cheek do you finally excuse you both from the room.

You take her hand and lead her a little away from possible prying ears and reach up to brush the loose hair away from her face. She had forgone her usual braid today in favour of leaving it down.

"Let it out," you softly instruct, and Natasha hesitates only briefly before shutting her eyes and bending forwards at the waist. She sneezes openly towards the floor, a welcomed relief for her sinuses you were sure.

"H'htschoo! Huh'tsschoo! Hh...H'tsshiew!" She uses the end of her shirt to wipe at her nose in a futile attempt at quelling the rising itch. "H'htschoo!" She groans slightly at the strength of the last one as she sniffles thickly.

"Bless you," you murmur as you take a step closer to her, and Natasha simply nods.

"You okay?" You ask as you cup her warm cheeks, using the pad of your thumb to wipe away the wet streak that was still there from earlier.

Natasha sniffles swiftly as she nods, "I don't think you are, baby." You disagree, making sure to keep your tone as unacusing as possible.

Almost immediately Natasha's eyes grow shiny, and you watch as she clamps down on her bottom lip with her teeth to stop it from quivering. Two tears somehow manage to make it down her cheeks anyhow, and that seemingly gives the flood gates permission to open.

Another set of tears fall before she lets out a choked sob, and your heart breaks at just how silent she'd managed to make it. With a small frown, you move your hands from her face to her upper arms and pull her body to rest flush against your own.

"It's okay," you sooth in a soft coo, pressing your lips against the top of her head. "We're gonna go home, and I'm gonna take care of you, okay?"

The thing was with Natasha, is that she's only stubborn for a little while. She insists she's okay and gets on with her day like normal and denies any accusations of being sick. But then you coddle her and love on her and it's like she's a completely different person. She's clingy and whiney and all she wants is to be held.

You knew it was what she needed right now, and you so badly wished she'd been honest with you from the beginning so you could have looked after her from the get go.

Natasha nods, but with the way she tightens her arms around your body, you knew she wasn't quite ready to let you go. Deciding to placate her need to be held for a little while longer, you press your lips against the top of her head in a lingering kiss and begin to ever so slightly rock her side to side.

A little over five minutes later, you'd excused both Natasha and yourself from the meeting and were in the car and on the way home. Not even a minute had passed before Natasha was dozing off against the window, your jacket under her head acting as a makeshift pillow.

Her mouth was slightly parted, and her fist was tucked cutely beneath her chin. At each stop light, you'd find your eyes instinctively drifting over to her on their own accord. You hated that she was sick, but you absolutely adored just how cute she looked.

When you make it back to your shared apartment, you make quick but quiet work of unbuckling your seatbelt and grabbing your things from the cup holder before climbing out of the car. You tuck your phone and wallet into the back pockets of your jeans before heading over to Natasha's side, pulling open her door and using your hand to stop her from tumbling out to the ground.

"Nat? We're home baby. Let's go inside." You attempt to rouse her as you gently brush a sweaty strand of hair out of her face. You would've carried her inside without question, but the only time she really allows you to hold her like that was when she was sure nobody else's could see. It was a different story completely in the privacy of your own home, however.

The red head immediately stirs at your light touch, eyes flickering open and drowsily taking in her surroundings.

"Home already?" She asks as she rubs at her eyes, and you nod as you reach around her to unbuckle her seatbelt.

"Yeah, home already. Let's get inside, okay?" You offer out your hand, and Natasha takes it and allows you to tug her out of the car, watching as you close the door and lock the vehicle behind her.

With a thick sniffle, she was allowing you to guide her into the building and over to the elevator. You'd take the stairs on a usual day, but with how close Natasha looked to passing out, you didn't want to risk over exerting her already tired body.

It takes only moments for you reach the floor your apartment was on, and the second you had unlocked the door and coaxed her inside, it was as though a switch had been flipped.

She reaches up onto her tiptoes and wraps her arms around your neck, prompting you to bend down and wrap your arms beneath her behind before lifting her up into your arms with practiced ease. She felt even warmer than she did earlier, so you head straight towards the bathroom with the intention of getting her some medicine.

You ease her down onto the counter next to the sink and grab both the Tylenol and cough medicine from the cabinet perpendicular to her head.

"Ew." She grumbles as she watches you pour a dose into the small plastic cup, and you smirk slightly as you hold it to her lips. She visibly hesitates, and you soften slightly as you place your hand on her thigh and give it a soft squeeze.

"Come on, baby It's not that bad." You further coax, and though Natasha sighs, she takes the medicine and swallows with only a slight grimace. "Good girl. Now this." You offer out two Tylenol, placing them onto her tongue when she opens her mouth.

Natasha, again, swallows, coughing thickly into her arm when her breath catches after attempting to clear her throat. You pat her back softly with a frown of concern on your face.

"You okay?" You ask after she manages to get herself together, and Natasha nods, taking your offered hands and sliding off of the counter. You give her hands a soft squeeze before walking her back through to the bedroom. "Go get into your pyjamas, my love. I'll go make us some tea."

"Okay." She murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the small walk in closet.

After taking a few moments to get comfortable yourself, you were making your way through to the kitchen with the intention of making the promised tea. You pause momentarily in the threshold to turn on the lights, squinting ever so slowly at the brightness as you grab two cups out of the cabinet before beginning to boil some water.

Your tea was soon made, and after grabbing a few snacks from the pantry, you were making your way back through to the bedroom where Natasha was sprawled out on the bed, eyes closed and breathing soft. With a small pout, you set down the tea and snacks onto the nightstand before leaning over her and placing your hand on the back of her head.

With the knowledge that the best medicine when you were sick was sleep, you simply pull out the covers from beneath her and tuck her in before pressing a lingering kiss to her cheek.

"Sweet dreams baby."

This didn’t come out as good as I hoped it would, so I apologise

@goldenempyrean @mywitchy-assassin

#natasha romanoff x reader #sickfic #marvel sickfic #black widow #sick!natasha Romanoff x reader #snzfic #mcu #marvel #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x y/n #fluff

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rayisalive · 1 year

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Makeup Session

|→ A/N: I wrote this on the plane ride hh- anyways women gotta love them yk

|→ Includes: GN reader, Himeko and Kafka x reader

|→ Context: Take the time with your girlfriend to put makeup on her why not

|→ More works here

|→ Himeko loves anytime she spends with you, so when you asked to put some makeup on her how could she say no?

| She would go along with anything youd like to do, open to anything you wanted to try.

| Whether it be a new eye shadow pallet you got or a new shade of lipstick she’ll let you play around to your hearts content.

“Hold still, I’m almost done,” you said as you applied the finishing touches of eyeliner.

Himeko let out a lighthearted sorry as she refrained herself from moving again.

As you moved away you took a moment to look at her. The makeup looked beautiful on her, complimenting her skin and hair.

“How do I look?” Himeko asked, standing up to look at herself in the mirror.

“Absolutely perfect.”

Himeko gave you a stellar(on /j) smile, lighting up the room.

You let out a smile, the one your dear girlfriend loved to see. “Of course.”

“Ah, I should get going now, goodbye Y/N,” Himeko said as she began moving towards you, giving you a small kiss on your cheek, leaving a small remnants of lipstick.

You watched as she left the room, the sparkle she brought leaving with her. She truly was an amazing woman.

|→ Kafka knows how to make anything look good, no matter how bad your makeup skills may be she would still shine like a gem.

| While you put on makeup she would give out small flirts, often teasing you.

| Imagine Kafka is flirting with you and Silver Wolf just walks in and is just like “Hey Blade’s back with pizza- nevermind.”

Wait actually-

Kafka walked towards you as you began putting the makeup away.

Hugging you from behind she began whispering in you ear, “Beautiful work on the makeup dear,” before she gave you a small kiss.

Just at that moment Silver Wolf walked in, playing pjsk games on her phone.

Looking up she let out a sigh as she retreated back, most likely off to go annoy Blade.

Kafka let out a small laugh as she let go of you and took you by your hands, dancing you around the room, the feeling was magical really.

©rayisalive 9/16/22 None of my work is to be translated, plagiarized, or reposted without my knowledge. Reblogs are appreciated too!

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madnessandentropy · 6 months

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Summary: A fic set in hell in which my original character (she is NOT an HB/HH oc and neither is the other one) has a horrible experience while at therapy. Basically expanding on the concept of hospitals, therapists, and rehabs in hell being designed specifically to not help you (also a critique of irl therapists)

CWs: Bad therapists, victim blaming , sexual harassment, cannibalism, fatphobia

(Pls reblog and leave a comment, constructive criticism is also welcome ❤)

Therapist From Hell

The therapist would not stop smiling.

Sharp white teeth lined that mouth in neat rows, a set of razors for each jaw.

Morgan shifted and looked at her lap. Her blood rushed in her ears and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

She inhaled slowly, and focused on her clothes for a distraction. Her long purple and black dress was one of the few splashes of colour in the room, a beacon in a sea of grey and black.

That was one of the problems with this awful place. Nearly every single thing in this room was either black or various shades of grey.

The carpet was dark grey and mottled with little black spots that made Morgan feel nauseous.

The walls were light grey as was the desk and the stiff, uncomfortable chair jutting into Morgan's legs and scratching at her skin.

Tick tick tick

The clock. The stupid clock. It was so loud. It was ugly, hexagonal and black and silver, mounted on a wall next to a black bookcase.

Tick tick tick

The ticks were so loud. Morgan's ears screamed in pain with every little movement of the bulging, twisted third hand.

"Miss Vettä."

A low voice forced forest green eyes to lock with sickly yellow.

Tick tick tick

The therapist would not stop smiling.

His eyes crinkled from the stretch of his grin and they flickered with an indecipherable emotion.

He was a perfect match to the rest of the room.

His skin was ash grey, stretched thin over an impossibly gaunt face decorated with black scales and black lipstick. He was skeletal, cheekbones protruding and the rest of his form rail thin.

His hair was long and black with a single grey stripe runnig down the right. It was wavy and thick, the style almost reminding her of a king cobra's hood.

His suit and shoes were black too, paired with a dark grey tie and socks.

His eyes, those nauseatingly yellow eyes, were the only splash of colour on him. They were accentuated by black and grey eyeshadow, making them look brighter. Scarier.

He was handsome, that couldn't be denied, but his very presence filled Morgan with a fear so primal she was tempted to flee.

Tick tick tick

"Miss Vettä, you've barely said a word. This may turn into a wasted session, I fear."

His voice was so painfully professional. It was smooth and deep, laced with an accent Morgan couldn't place, sickly sweet.

"I... I can't think of anything to talk about." Morgan mumbled, feeling slightly delirious. The overpowering scent of lavender pouring from the various incense dispensers in the room made her head hurt.

Tick tick tick

That horrible, toothy smile widened just a fraction.

"Well then, dear, let me help you." The therapist said sweetly.

He reached next to him and took hold of a clipboard. He gripped it with bony ash grey hands, bespeckled with scales, that faded to black at his fingers which extended to claws.

Something in his left pocket squirmed.

Tick tick tick

"In our last session you mentioned that in your previous life you were harassed by a classmate at your university. Why don't you tell me about that?"

Tick tick tick

Morgan's tongue stuck to the roof her throat and her heart sank.

"N-No... I'm not... I'm not comfortable with sharing that."

Tick tick tick

The therapist's smile faded slightly. He leaned forward.

Tick tick tick

"I don't think you underssstand the effort I put into ssspending my time here with you when I could be treating more talkative patientsss."He hissed. The lights flickered. His eyes glowed brighter. "Tell me or choossse ssssomething elssssse."

Tick tick tick

Morgan swallowed. "I-"

God, why was that clock so fucking loud?

As if a higher being heard her thoughts, the ticks were drowned out by a single gunshot.

Morgan jolted in her seat and swivelled towards the nearest window. The blinds were drawn, obscuring the chaos outside. However, she could still hear muffled cuss words and screams of pain.

"Ignore that." The therapist said breezily, as if somebody wasn't screaming in agony right outside the window.

Morgan swallowed.

"Go on." The therapist coaxed. "Tell me absolutely everything."

"W-Well..." Morgan's mouth started moving before she could stop it. "There was this new guy in my uni class that arrived in the second term. He was older than the rest of us, said he was changing careers, and he was awful. And creepy. He always made me feel unnerved."

"My, how judgemental." The therapist purred.

There was a pen in his hand now- black and silver- and the ink was a very specefic shade of red that made Morgan's skin crawl.

"It was valid I swear!" She shrieked. "He was a creep! He made comments about all the girls and stared at the ones who wore skirts and told them to 'pull it higher'. It's... it's why I just switched to wearing jeans."

Embarrassment washed over her when she finished her tangent when she saw the therapist's smile twist into a bemused smirk.

"A-Anyways, he equally caught an interest in me. At first he left an anonymous notes on my table. He would tell me I looked pretty, that I was cute or other things like that. It wasn't anything creepy yet, and I will admit I was quite flattered at the time. 'Secret Admirer' and all that, you know?"

"Then he got hold of my number." Morgan took a shakey breath, trying not to look at the thrashing lump thar was the therapist's pocket.

"I don't know how. But he did. He messaged me, telling me it was him who left the notes and asking if I liked them. Then... he started saying things that weren't as sweet. Telling me about how thought about me when he- saying I looked pretty but he thought I would sexier if I... if I lost weight. Stuff like that."

"I know I'm not exactly-" Morgan gestured to herself. "-thin, but that was such an awful thing to say. I-It made me so upset. He wouldn't stop messaging me though, he kept sending me gross messages and..." She shuddered. "Pictures."

The therapist would not stop smiling.

"The block button is there." His tone was professionally dismissive. "Did you press it? Or... did you like the attention? You mentioned you have self image issues before, after all."

Morgan sat up straighter and glared at the therapist.

"I blocked him." She growled through sharp clenched teeth. "And then he found me on other social media and I blocked him there too. Then he just went back to putting written notes on my desk."

The therapist would not stop smiling.

"Did you report him?"

Morgan hesitated.

"...Not at first. I was afraid of how he would react and I wasn't sure if I'd be believed. Complaints against him were always dismissed and those who lodged them always looked so... a-afraid afterwards."

As Morgan spoke, her voice quivering, the therapist opened his mouth. Wide.

A large pair of fangs flicked out, glistening with something sickly, and a black forked tongue slid out to slide across them. He looked utterly delighted.

Morgan trailed off,coming to a sudden stop as she watched the display in mild horror. Gooseflesh rippled across her dark blue skin.

The therapist would not stop smiling.

"Don't mind me." He cooed, fangs retracting. His voice made her teeth itch. "Continue."

"I-I only reported him after... after a dance our class put together. It was going to be so much fun and apparently he wasn't coming, so I got excited and brought a really beautiful dress for it. It wasn't fancy and it was kinda short, but it looked good on me and it had a good price."

"Turns out that asshole was coming. He made it his business to feel me up and whisper really gross shit to me even after I told him to stop multiple times." She buried her face in her in her hands. "The staff did nothing."

There was a brief silence after that, filled only with the scratching of a pen and the ticking of that damn clock. The lump was still moving, making a faint rustling noise.

The therapist would not stop smiling.

He tilted his head and blinked owlishly.

"Why did you wear that dress?"

"What?"

"You said it was quite small. You know how dressing like that is interpreted . Why did you wear it? It's almost like you were asking for it."

Morgan gaped, flabbergasted. "I-"

She was cut off by a brief ringing noise and the therapist sighed.

"That's the end of our session I'm afraid. Thank you for your time. This was a most productive discussion. I'm quite hungry now."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a... a mouse?

It was white with pink stripes running down its back and large pink eyes. It squirmed in the therapist's hold, squealing and flailing like a mouse gone mad.

Something about it was strangely familiar.

"Want a bite?" The therapist asked, teeth glinting.

Morgan shook her head wordlessly.

The therapist did not stop smiling. He simply shrugged.

"Ah, more for me then."

He tilted his head back, dangled the mouse by the tail over his open mouth, dropped it in, and swallowed it whole.

Morgan watched, mortified, as a visible lump slid slowly down the therapist's throat.

What had she just witnessed?

The therapist acted like nothing happened, picking up a notepad off his desk and scribbling something on the first page before tearing it off and handing it to her.

"What's this?" Morgan asked, squinting at the unreadable scrawl.

"A prescription."

The therapist's smile was so wide it took up half of his face.

"For a medicine to help with weight loss. It'll help those image issues of yours. The medicine and me prescribing it to you will cost extra."

"W-what?" Morgan stuttered. "I can't afford paying extra!"

She had learned through other patients that refusing a prescription outright ended very poorly, and it was best to try and bargain.

"That's something for you to sort out with the front desk." The therapist cooed, ushering her out the door. "See you next week!"

He slammed the door shut and Morgan was left standing alone in an empty hallway.

With no one else there and the prescription paper unreadable, Morgan had nothing to distract her from the... mouse.

That mouse.

That. Mouse.

It was so familiar.

White. Pink streaks. Pink eyes with a flicker of orange.

It looked so scared.

Green eyes widened.

Oh.

O h.

Morgan suddenly felt very very sick.

She saw that mouse.

She saw it last week. But not as a mouse. As a person. Crying, telling the disinterested cleric that they couldn't afford their prescription charge.

Morgan's stomach churned and bile rose in her throat.

She raced to the front office, paid for her session and prescription with shaking hands, shoved her new bottle of pills into her back, raced outside and proceeded to throw up all over the pavement.

Panting, she turned to glare at the tall, grey building stretching up to the blood red night sky.

She gasped.

At the window on the ground floor, peering at her from between the now open blinds, was the therapist.

Sickly yellow eyes glowed dangerously. There a mouse tail protruding from between his teeth.

Morgan started crying.

The therapist did not stop smiling.

-End

.....................................

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! I've never written in quite this style before.

Tagging: @onehelluvatime please let me know what you think!

#helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #writing #writing peice #one shot

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myuminji · 7 months

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Hi I'm uh. The uh. The shelters main. Thank you for the kind words. I'm usually v shy so i rarely talk unless poked but I'm glad the outfit swap thing has resonated with you because i swear that vash is. Haunting me. Makes me understand why people self-ship i literally cannot. Boo boo the fool made up a guy to be unwell about.

Anyways also wanted to. Tell you that your mini wolfwoods are the forbidden delight and a special treat always, they are literally so. I want to squish them like stress toys. 100% stampede wolfwood is a kitty cat.

In general i really love your art style, it looks so round and dynamic. Absolutely floored by how you can make shapes pop with minimal amount of lines............ Learning each day how to draw from the masters. Thank you for posting such hardcore posts they replenish my stamina in these trying times.

HH H HHI? I can't believe you'd even be around here im so honoured hello!?@#$?! hi! I relate so well about the talking part so thank you so much for dropping the ask im so!! I need to confess when I saw your ww outfit swap I kinda scrambled and doodled vw in it as well bcs i was internally dying the whole time (i was shy tho so i posted it on my priv HHSFDG) i humbly present my poor attempts...!! 🤲

(I completely forgot to spike his hair up, they ran out of gel)

And I could say the same to you about your art honestly?! opening tumblr going to your page immediately and getting floored when I saw smth new you posted like!!!??!?!?!!

Idk this make sense but i cannot stress enough how I lovee the way you draw anatomy. like bodies. they look solid. there is matter atoms in that. nice. I love the way you draw faces so much too gawdd those expressions using simple strokes, and they're super distinctive too!! like i can immediately recognise which is who, but wait have i talked about how i love your expressions? i actually have a tab open at your silly drunk vash THE WAY HE STARES IT'S SO. OURGH.

and your inking?? immaculate, stunning, show-stopping, out of this world, I cant stop observing how you built the shapes just with the use of contrast shading, your lines are so clean and confident! efficient! super shaped!

lastly thank you so much for liking my miniwood series!! I couldn't be more happy to see ppl enjoying this silly thing (gives me excuse to draw them more tbh HAHAHA)

#also religiously reading the tags on your bcs they're so nice to read you word words very well ahrghashg #SORRY FOR THE BARRAGE OF WORDS I JUST LOOK UP TO YOUR WORKS SM AAAA stoked to know you like my silly stuff as well!!! 😭😭💖💖💕#myuask

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goldenempyrean · 2 years

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Hi love your writing, maybe something like "Are these flowers bothering you?" And "Somebody's certainly sneezy today." for Reader x Scarlett<3

Sunflowers And Sneezes

Hey :) This isnt too long but hopefully you still enjoy. Im hoping to get a longer fic done soon though so stay tuned for that :)

Summary: You and Scarlett are enjoying your day off although it seems somebodys allergies are acting up.

Wordcount:600

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

There were certain things that you and Scarlett always loved doing together, feeding the ducks, watching movies and cooking together were just afew of the things which you enjoyed. Another thing you both loved was taking long walks in the park together, you enjoyed taking in the nature around you and smiling at the wildlife.

The wind was blowing a light breeze that Spring morning. You found yourself gently strolling around your local park with your hand interlocked with Scarlett’s. You couldn’t help but admire her beauty as she walked, her blond hair flowed elegantly behind her, swaying in the breeze.

It wasn’t just Scarlett that was beautiful though, gorgeous wild flowers lined the edges of the path which you were strolling down and huge willow trees provided a much welcomed shade. You smiled when a particularly large sunflower caught your attention.

“Aren’t they pretty?” You marvelled, slowing down to admire the nature.

“Everything here is. The flowers are almost as beautiful as you.” Scarlett winked, bending down and taking a deep breath, smiling as the smell of roses met her senses. Only her smile began to smile a moment later when a tickle began tormenting her nose, “…Hh’iiitshiew! Hih’tshhiew!”

“Bless you Scar’.” You hummed, wrapping your hand around her waist as the pair of you continued your walk. Afew minutes later you heard a damp set of sniffles, curious, you looked over to see Scarlett swiping a finger against her nose.

“You doing okay over there?” You asked light heartedly, giving her a curious look as her nose began to twitch.

“Just a little i-itch.. Hh’tshoo! ..Hhiiitshiew! Hh’tssshh!” Scarlett quickly turned away from you to catch a set of sneezes in her elbow, “Ugh, sorry. My nose is itching like crazy.”

“Its okay, bless you.” You cooed, rubbing small circles on her hand as you continued to walk, “Goodness bless you, somebody’s certainly sneezy today.” You added with a laugh as Scarlett stifled another two sneezes.

Scarlett paused, stopping to wipe a tear from her watery eyes after a moment her breath began to hitch, she just about managed to stutter out the words “Not again.” Before turning to muffle yet another set of sneezes into her elbow.

“Aw honey.” You mumbled sympathetically, feeling a prick of worry spread across your mind, “Are these flowers bothering you?”

Scarlett sighed, there was no point in trying to hide it, “I think so.” She admitted with sniffle and she moved her hand to rub at her eye.

Only you gently caught her wrist before she was able too, “Sweetie rubbing at your eyes will only make it worst. Did you forget to take your allergy meds?” Your hand retook its original place around her waist as you gently began to guide her in the direction of the park exit.

“They make me drowsy, I wanted us to enjoy our day off.” Scarlett sniffled as she tried to fight off another tickle.

You frowned noticing a hint of congestion forming in her voice, “You’re beginning to sound stuffy sweetie. Lets get home and get you some antihistamines. We’ll still enjoy our day off.”

“Are you sure? We had plans to spend our day here.” Scarlett whined, feeling somewhat guilty about ruining your plans. She gestured to park around you, “It’s a gorgeous day Y/N. Are you really sure you want to go home, Its only afew sniffles. I swear- Hih’tshhiew! Hh’etshiew! Hh…Htsshiew!”

“God bless you Scarlett. Yes I’m sure, lets just get you home.” You looked down to cup her cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead, “Don’t worry, our day will be perfect. Im spending it with you afterall.”

#sickfic #snzfic #marvel sickfic #whump #fluffy #marvel snzfic #mcu #snzfuck #femreader #sick scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson whump #scarlett johansson caretaking #scarlettxreader #scarlett johansson x reader #snz #snzblr

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chaselynnreads · 8 months

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The Pact: Chapter 1

Emerson:

Freshman Year

“Dad, are you kidding me?” I ask in disbelief. My sister Brenna bites down a laugh. My dad on the other hand stares at me like I'm the crazy one. “Emerson it will not be as bad as you are making it seem.” I roll my eyes at that. My father is the head hockey coach at Briar University, where I am moving into tomorrow. Correction was going to, my dad wants his four new freshmen to live with me.

“Come on Em take it as a compliment. Obviously dad thinks that living with these boys will be good for you.” Brenna says while laughing. I sigh loudly for both of them to hear. One thing about growing up with a hockey coach is that I know that sport in and out. From the actual rules and how the game should be played to how these kids act. Dad will complain or praise them every single night. Dad says that all freshmen guys want to do is bang girls. He said that these four boys are going to be great, that they have so much potential to be pros. He shouldn't be wrong considering that one of them is Phil Graham's son.

“You will be living with four guys Em. I need these boys to be focused on the ice. I need them to eat, sleep, and breathe hockey. You need to be their female buffer.” I roll my eyes for the 1,000th time tonight. “Damn dad way to make a girl feel good about herself.” I tell him. He glares at me. “Please be good about this.” He said quietly. “I know it’s not ideal I truly do. I just really want you to do this for me Em.”

I go up to Brennas room and sit on her bed. She walks in right after getting out of the shower. “You need to call me if they are hot. Get me a man” She said. I chuckle. Brenna and I have always been close with each other. We are two years apart but we could literally be twins. My hair is shorter and a shade of brown lighter than Brenna’s almost black hair. The only other thing that helps tell us apart is my boobs and Brennas butt. See my ass is practically non existent but Brenna’s looks like she should be Kim K herself. On the other hand my boobs are giant. I promise its not a flex. Being a 32 HH at fourteen was a horrible time. Im now a 34 I and it's not a fun time.

“Bren I’m going to miss you so much.” I told her. She looks at me with sadness in her eyes. She smiled slightly. “ I love you so much and i'm so proud of you. I just know you are going to do great things.” She is silent for a moment. When she looks back up at me her big eyes are filled with tears.

“Mom would be so proud of you Emmerson.” She whispered. I gave her a sad smile. Our mom died when I was 7 and Bren was 5. “I know B. I love you little sis.” I hugged her tightly. “Just for the record, mom would be proud of you as well. I’m proud of you.” She lets the tears fall over her lash line and hugs me again.

The next morning comes too fast. I look around my empty room and go through all my memories. As I walk down the stairs my dad is standing at the bottom of them with nothing but pride filling his eyes.

I tilt my head and ask “What is it?” He looks at me. “My baby girl. You” He stopped. “Emmerson, you are such a beautiful woman. I’m so proud of the person you have become.”

“Oh dad.” I said, wrapping my arms around him. He let go of me and wiped his eyes. “Let's get you to school.”

Brenna and I finished decorating my room an hour ago. Now Dad, Brenna, and I are cleaning up from lunch. I turn and see them looking at each other. Dad turns his head to me and says “Well, that’s it honey. Bren and I are going to go home.” I look at Brenna who runs to the other side of the island to hug me. “I love you. Talk soon?” I hug her tighter. “Always B.”

Dad joins us in a group hug before kissing the top off my head and leaving the two-story townhouse. Brenna gives my hand a squeeze and follows him out.

I sit in silence before turning around and start putting my dishes away.

When I stand back up I’m met with the most beautiful greens eyes on the planet.

#off campus series #hockey romance #hockey #garrett graham #john logan #hannahwells #deandilaurentis #john tucker #sabrinajames #alliehayes'#offcampus

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nvrcmplt · 6 months

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"Hold still..." Darc has a frown on his face as he helps Lance out. His grip is a tad too tight when holding Lance still but the cloth soaked in disinfectant is gently dabbed at the injured spot. His eyes seen to bore more holes into his friend, various emotions swirling in his chest and mind. Darcy didn't like seeing Lance like this, but he also felt pride in being able to help. But there's another thing that rose its head; an urge. He can't help but stare at the small drop or red that trickled down slowly, how it left a trail of red behind. Darius is but a weak man, controlled by instinct most of the time. It's not like he thinks, rarely he does, leans over to catch the drop on his tongue. He licks his way up, following the path the drop had made all the way to the wound, the cut. Lips press against it rather firm and parted just right, to allow his tongue to swipe over it, again and again. There's a weird pleased sound at the back of his throat, making itself known.

He didn't really know when it happened but a cut on his shoulder, just behind it - on his back was oozing red. He only noticed it really when he got home after wandering for jobs as usual and he got itchy. When he went to itch he flinched at the stinging and when looking at his fingers, he was red. So, thankfully Darcy was home after him, just in time. Though when he showed the other his shirt, the blood patch was bigger than just a mere cut. Stripping with Darcy panicking was a moment flailing, but Lance soon was put in his place. Sat in front of Darc who had the first aid kit out and whimpering as he does at the sight of any blemish on his body.

A picture was shared, seemed like a deep scrape that pulled skin, Lance didn't really know when it happened but it came to him eventually. The wall, he was pushed into it by someone not paying attention. He guessed the shock of being ran into dulled the actual injury and with it just weeping into his shirt - he didn't feel it with his focus being elsewhere. Now though he could feel the pain in it, specially with Darc cleaning it out with the tweezers, cotton ball and sharp scented disinfectant.

Speaking of which, made his bow his back with soft hisses as the cleaner got where it needed to be. "Am tryin'." His huffed reply to the others ask for him to stay still, he closed his eyes and rolled his knees up to his chin to rest on them with a huff. He knew he could have a nap whilst Darcy fawned over him like he was losing a limb instead of just this but he liked the attention, the care, the softness they had with him. Made him feel something better about himself, that he wasn't just on the cusp of the world, someone with nothing for them anymore but in Darc's world. He was his everything.

Staring across their room and taking in the small possessions they had, he was startled when he felt something warm and wet trail down his back only for it to be trailed up. Head about to raise to ask what that was, he found himself choking on his words at the sensation of lips… Of Darc's nose on his skin, of his hair tickling his shoulder, their touch hot all of a sudden to his cool self. "…hh?" The sensation rattled him, it hurt, in an irritating manner of it being pressed on, but the rest of it? The licking? Lance felt like it was racing down his spine. His skin blotching in clear blush - one that shot up his nape and ears, his face a victim to the shade as he tensed and breathed a little heavier into his knees.

Fingers twitch, the stinging and the soothing licks shouldn't feel like this to his current hurt but it was rattling hard in his mind as he sat there. Disbelief and yet not at all, in the same moment. Darcy was… has been a little more handsy recently, over the pass few months at least. Something changed in them that night of confessing a little bit about being each other's safe space. Lance, was starting to understand things a bit more here and there but he couldn't say for certain he was completely knowing upon what it meant to be just each other's everything… Was this part of it? Darcy's tongue on his skin? His lips kissing his hurts? The grip around his stomach that was growing tighter?

He felt his lashes close, shuddering with an unexpecting pleasure zinging through his thighs. His groin hot, and cheeks burning - he knew, he knew he was hard. Not an idiot in that nature but to be aroused like this? It was scary. So, he did as he always did, in moving to smack at Darcy's knee as he clenched his thighs tighter and glared over his shoulder --- though being as red as his jacket in the closet, he didn't say anything else but squeeze at Darcy's leg to get him back on planet earth. "H--- hurry up, I need the bathroom." Because he was going to run, and run and run and run. Darcy couldn't see him like this, not in this state - but he couldn't bleed everywhere - getting blood out of the floor would cost extra.

Sanity before rage, hold it, hold it.

#mangher #« ( Lance ) » Answers.#» | × | Lance&Darius || We’re Good At Surviving For It's All We Have Now ||

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accidentalmistress · 1 year

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Towards the end of the AM story Sugar We're Going Down, Oraion mentions his butler back in the Demon Realm, Catherwood, who he claims is "beyond reproach." I hadn't really intended to do much with Catherwood, but he has started taking up permanent residence in my brain, demanding to be developed and fleshed out. Rather rude of him, tbh. Anyway, without further ado, allow me to present:

Mordecai Amadeus Catherwood

Mordecai is a fallen angel who currently works as the Head of Household Staff for one Lord Oraion Moncerius Leroux.

Mordecai is utterly loyal and devoted to his Master, a rare trait in the Demon Realm, and he is the very picture of the perfect butler. Well-groomed, intelligent, unflappable, prompt, prepared, and punctual—he takes on any and every request made of him with superb skill and aplomb.

His hair is straight, blonde, and about chin-length, while his eyes are narrow and violet. He has pale, freckled skin, though of a far more human shade than the ghostly gray pallor of his Master. He is of average height and slender build, having a somewhat androgynous appearance. To underestimate him, however, is a deadly mistake. Mordecai is one of the most skilled assassins of the Demon Realm, and arguably of the Mortal Realm and Celestia besides.

[TW: blood]

Mordecai quite enjoys the satisfaction of a job well done. (Picrew here)

The status and security that Oraion enjoys as a Demon Lord is in no small part thanks to Mordecai's skills, in both household duties and tasks of a more violent nature. "You keep what you kill" is often the unspoken law of the land in the Demon Realm, and Demon Lords come and go in near constant rotation. At full strength, Oraion is formidable in his own right, and, with Mordecai Catherwood behind him, his position has gone unchallenged for millennia.

Like Oraion, Mordecai possesses wings that are hidden most of the time. Unlike his Master, however, Mordecai's wings are feathered, as they were in his angel form. No longer the pure white of his days in Celestia, his wings are now ash gray, with scorched, blackened tips on his primary feathers.

In my setting demons and other demonic denizens don't normally sneeze. Oraion's contract with Noelle makes him unique in that regard. If Mordecai were to somehow also acquire the ability, though, I imagine he would be somewhat sensitive to dust. Letting his sneezes out would be far too uncouth for someone of his position, however, and so he would be a habitual stifler, with at most a "hh-kssht!" being audible.

Cleaning days at the manor would be particularly irksome, as the imps employed on the housekeeping staff tend to be a touch overzealous with the dusting. At least they haven't broken anything important lately...

I have not written any fics featuring Mordecai, nor do I have any planned out as of yet, but I'm sure he will make an appearance sooner or later. There's only so long he can allow his Master to remain missing, after all.

#accidental mistress #Mordecai the fallen butler #snzblr

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dearestaeneas · 1 year

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WIP Wednesday (on a Thursday!!)

my beloved @figsandphiltatos tagged my main in this and i think it’s such a fun idea!! check out their stuff, they’re currently working on a retelling of the Telemachy from Peisistratus’ perspective!!! and it’s so good!!!!! go read their work!!!!!<333333

i haven’t worked on much over the holidays, but i did spend the majority of nanowrimo working on the same piece! i’m almost scared to finish hh so sometimes i fear i’ve been dragging it out to avoid the inevitable (but also, i’m still having fun, DAMMIT. who would complain since i’m still using it to build characterizations and relationships? it’s GOOD. i’m having FUN.)

here’s one of the more recent updates of hh!<3 i was on the fence about introducing Lux (because spoilers?), but i just...fell in love with him immediately. introducing him alone is why i’m also deciding that maybe i’m not ready to start the process of finishing abc yet!

tagging @wikipedie @coffee-laytte-two and @courtjester69420 (although, no pressure!!!!)

happy last out of touch thursday of the year!

The Old God groaned. Todd rarely stayed Backstage without Branwen present, but he’d insisted she go ahead without him. It pained both him and the Old God to see her so distressed, and her lack of resistance was in itself a cause for concern. Todd stepped forward and held the Old God by their shoulders.

“Mmmrgh.” Tell me.

“I wasn’t lying,” the Old God protested. “Ardan being here is a good thing, and he does adore that girl. Her and Celeste, and you. There’s nothing any of you need me to say about it.”

The world melted away. Grays of all shades dripped from the iron wrought furniture and the cafe’s front. The black of the cobble stone itself seemed to be receding away from the pair, being replaced with soft browns and reds, before disappearing altogether. The Old God stood facing Todd as trees seemed to spring from nowhere and grow up thousands of feet to scratch the sky. The Old God squinted against the deep greens and browns of the forest, as if a light had been shined directly into their eyes. In the distance the sound of waves lapping a beach roared.

Where Todd had stood was a short whose skin was the same light brown as Ardan’s. Her eyes and hair were the same shade of black, and her canines were far too sharp when she smiled joylessly.

“Where are we?”

“If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine,” she said, letting go of the deity and making a show of brushing her hands off on her trousers. “I know someone who will.” With this, she turned and began off toward the waves.

Although the Old God was a monochrome idol in this place, they felt a color they didn’t have drain from their face. “Todd, not them!”

She spun around to face them. “Why? You know, he would really be an excellent ally to have! Sure, he couldn’t care less about the New Gods, but he loves Branwen. Do you really think he’d let anyone do anything that could hurt his little golden girl?” Todd’s voice dripped with a dare to be challenged. “I think he’d want to know if something was happening, since he can’t afford to keep tabs on her anymore, don’t you think?”

The Old God seethed. “Todd!”

She resumed her purposeful march to the beach, the Old God trailing behind her. They stopped right at the treeline, watching as Todd held her arms out as she walked toward the man.

He stood on a flat, gray outcropping at the beach’s edge, the water lapping up onto the rock to darken its corners. He looked over his shoulder toward the forest at the sound of Todd’s steps crunching on the sand. Upon seeing her, his face brightened, a feat which should have been impossible as the god cast a bright glow on everything around him. “My darling!” He shouted, voice booming over the waves. The Old God shuddered at the sound and concealed themselves behind a particularly thick tree.

“Lux!” Todd squealed as he lifted her into the air after closing the distance between them with imperceptible speed. He finally set her back down and held her face in his strong hands. She squinted slightly and he quickly released her apologetically, the gold of his skin having reflected directly into her eyes.

“What are you doing here, my dear?”

“I don’t want any false pretense,” Todd began. “I’m sorry this wasn’t a casual visit.”

Lux waved a hand dismissively. “There will always be time for that later.”

“I’m worried about Branwen.”

Lux’s face darkened and the sun that beat down on the beach seemed to dim. “Did that bastard hurt her? Where are they?” With this they turned from Todd to study the treeline. “They’re here, aren’t they?”

Todd reached out for his hand and turned his attention back to her. “They haven’t done anything,” she promised. “Really. But I need to talk to someone who’s always had her best interests at heart.”

The Old God strained to hear the continuation of the conversation, despite the pounding in their chest after Lux’s call. Strange, they thought in a moment of detachment. I don’t even have a heart…I don’t think.

“I try to. As much as I can,” Lux said, words laced with deep anger. “They have made it nearly impossible.”

“Lux,” Todd gripped his hand tighter. “Listen. I know you can’t watch over her like you used to because of…”

“The parasite? Todd, we’re not supposed to feed off mortals like that! What do they call her, an avatar? There’s not a single god who didn’t know she was my favorite, and they still got to feed off all that belief. I don’t even know what the Nameless One calls themselves these days, but they shut all of us out,” he said seriously. “I don’t care about the others, Todd. She was my favorite.” The sky above the beach continued to darken.

She exhaled. Really, these gods and their tempers. She wondered if she was ever this petty with her siblings. “Lux.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, the sky lightening slightly. “You don’t care.”

He sighed. “What do you need?”

“You can’t see her, but you can see Celeste, right?”

The sky became completely clear, the sun beating down mercilessly. Lux brightened accordingly. “Of course! You know, I like her so much more than the last one. I’m sad to hear she’s having trouble adjusting to immortality, we need more immortals like her. But, of course, you know I like the sunny ones.”

“And…Ardan? The er, other one the Nameless One’s claimed for themselves.”

“Ah,” Lux said quietly. “Yes, I know him. Branwen likes him. That’s good.”

“Tell me why.”

“He’s in your blindspot, darling,” Lux said, resting a hand on Todd’s head. “Walk with me.” He offered an arm out to her, which she readily accepted, and the pair walked along the water’s edge.

The Old God peered out from behind their tree to follow Todd and Lux’s stroll further and further away from them. They cursed the god quietly, knowing he was well aware of where the Old God hid, despite well-acted ignorance. They watched as Todd stopped in her tracks to face Lux, his own face wearing a self-assured smile to counter her own look of horror. She stared back into the treeline, eyes locking directly with the Old God. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit.

Todd held Lux’s forearm gratefully, her dark eyes locking with his yellow ones. “I can fix this,” she said.

“Yes,” he agreed. “You can. Now get that monster out of my domain.”

She hugged him close and his arms warmed her skin. “Next time will be one of those casual visits,” he said. She broke away and nodded before starting back toward the trees.

“And Todd?” He called behind her.

She turned. “What?”

Lux stepped forward slightly. “I want you to bring her with you when you come. Celeste too.”

Todd smiled then. “Of course.”

#looooong boy #v long boy #abc #TODD CONFIRMED HE/SHE BABEY!!!!!!!#fantasy #original fiction #fiction #also i'ma tag stevie's stuff so their fic is in those tags twice. don't mind me #odyssey #telemachus #peisistratus of pylos #penelope #odysseus #wip wednesday #on a thursday!

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