#hope you don't mind me snagging this post!

[lesbianpepsi]

'Cause I love, to love, to love you

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!reader

Summary: Ever since Wednesday had been gifted a phone you decided to steal her phone to play a prank on her. But much to your surprise you see something unexpected on her phone.

Warnings: bad writing, some swearing

Words: 1.833k

A/N: i wrote this on my phone since my laptop is having a mental breakdown on me rn. not proof read since it's 3am and it's exam season lmao. sorryyy. also this is my first 'fic' post here. hope this isn't too bad lmao, enjoy:)

One of your absolute favourite hobbies, if it even counts as a hobby, is to "borrow" someone's phone for a few minutes and do something to the phone.

Whether it be quickly change their ringtone to something embarrassing, take a ungodly amount of selfies in thirty seconds, or even send yourself a message complimenting yourself or agreeing to do something stupid.

You always found an annoying trick to play. But you always had one that was your absolute favourite. A classic, some might say.

"Borrowing" someone's phone and changing their wallpaper to something incredibly stupid.

If you were lucky the persons phone would already have unattractive selfies they took as a joke, or a friend would send them one of themself that would automatically save to the phone.

You've done that over a thousand times to all of your friends and family members, and to you it never gets old.

Enid has always been the easiest victim because, one, her passcode is literally '2929', two, Enid always has a grip on her phone but in your or hers dorm room that grip instantly weakens and she always leaves her phone around the place.

The hardest victim to play this prank on is your girlfriend, Wednesday Addams.

Although the goth is not often using her actual device, she always makes sure to keep it close to her person.

The rare times you've managed to snag it while she's in the bathroom or during her writing time, if she isn't looking, for the life of you, you cannot guess her passcode.

Hers has to be much more complex than Enid's simple four digit passcode, since you've tried everything you could've thought of as a six digit passcode, yet to no avail.

You've tried birthdays, important dates to Wednesday, her favourite numbers, secret messages using numbers.

Nothing works.

You've been patiently waiting for the day to finally play the harmless prank on your girlfriend for weeks, and on a quiet Saturday night, it finally happened.

_____________________________________

Saturday had always been your favourite day, who doesn't think Saturday as the best day?

You especially loved Saturdays since the fact the following day follows is Sunday, a day with also no school. Which meant Wednesday was allowed to come over to your dorm room and stay over for the night.

The school had a rule where sleepovers weren't permitted unless it was on the weekend, something that annoyed you greatly, but it was better than nothing.

This particular Saturday you and Wednesday decided to have a simple day. Both of you wanted to have more of a relaxing day rather than one full of plans for once.

It was ten in the evening and you and Wednesday had just finished the first episode of Criminal Minds, a show that took you a while of begging to get Wednesday to actually agree to watch with you.

With a smile you turned your head to look at her, her head already turned to look at you.

"So, what did you think?" You asked eagerly, hoping the goth actually enjoyed one of your favourite shows.

She gave a blank expression as she answered the question. "It was tolerable at best." You grinned at the response; pride filling in you since in Wednesday language that meant she actually liked it.

"I knew you'd like it!" You had the urge to add 'I told you so' but you opted to leave that out. "Whose your favourite character?"

Wednesday's raises her brows slightly at that. "A favourite character? I've only seen a singular episode and don't have a good enough concept of each character's personality to answer that question." She replied in a monotone voice as she glanced back at the screen before back at you.

You stared at her in silence for a moment before a slight smirk replaced the grin on your face.

"It's Hotch isn't it?" Wednesday gives you an annoyed stare as she crosses her arms over stomach. "Just because you've watched this show a myriad of times doesn't make you a profiler." She grumbled, confirming the answer to your question.

You chuckled as you teasingly nudged your shoulder with hers. "I know. I just know my girlfriend so well."

The corners of Wednesday's lips quirked up for a moment before they returned to their normal straight line. "Don't get too cocky, Y/n."

You chuckle once again as you moved your hand to holds Wednesday's, knowing the simple display of affection was one she didn't mind much.

Your smile only grew when Wednesday didn't hesitate to interlock your hands.

"I wouldn't dream of it. But I do know when we watch season two you will definitely love Emily but say otherwise."

Wednesday let out a scoff at your words. "I only remember agreeing to watch one episode of this show, not an entire season."

You shrugged your shoulders before saying. "Fine, I guess I'll have to watch the next episode alone while you sleep then."

Her dark chocolate brown eyes narrowed the ever slightest at that, as if she was trying to profile you to see if you were lying or not.

You stated back with the same amount of intensity, using it as an excuse to admire your girlfriend's beauty.

Wednesday uncharacteristically broke the eye contact first as she let out an angry huff.

"Only one more episode then." You grin at her words, already knowing that meant there were a lot more episodes ahead of you two.

"But I need to empty my bladder first." She states before she let go of your hand to stab up. Once she was out of the bed and standing she gave you a menacing glare before saying. "Don't start the episode without me."

You nodded your head.

"Go piss girl." You said as you let out a small laugh at your own words, still finding the meme enjoyable.

Wednesday stared blankly at you for a few seconds before she turned around and headed towards the bathroom.

She never understood the joke no matter how many times you told her the meme.

Once you heard the shutting of the door you didn't hesitate to roll over to Wednesday's side and retrieve her phone.

Pressing on the screen her lock screen appeared, her lockscreen wallpaper simply being a black background.

Very Wednesday, you thought to yourself. Was the chances of you actually figuring Wednesday's password slim? Yes. Impossible? No.

You were determined to change the girl's wallpaper to something stupid at least once.

Swiping up the phone presented the password screen to you, the circular numbers taking up the entire screen.

Your thumb hovered over the numbers as you thought of what possibly could her password.

Your first guess was '233267' since under each number was one letter that in order spelt 'Addams'.

Much to your disappointment the phone vibrated as the password emptied, telling you that the password was incorrect.

Knowing you didn't have much time to waste you quickly thought of another password you hadn't tried before.

'782378' This time the letters under the numerals spelt Pubert, the name of Wednesday's youngest brother.

Once again the phone vibrated angrily, taunting you that you got it wrong once again.

You sighed as you glanced over at the bathroom door knowing Wednesday would walk through them any minute.

Accepting your defeat you decided to give one last attempt before giving up. This time you just mimicked Wednesday's blank expression as you entered a six digit passcode you hadn't tried before.

'111111' You rolled your eyes as you entered the final digit expecting to hear the vibration once again, especially due to the fact how simple the password was.

But to your surprise you didn't feel a vibration in your hand. Instead you heard nothing.

Your eyes snapped back towards the screen and to your utter delight and shock you were in Wednesday's phone.

You actually managed to guess her password!

(You decided to ignore the fact it was literally more hackable and easier to guess than Enid's passcode)

A smug smile appeared on your face as you straightened your posture, pushing yourself slightly up as your mind rushed with different things you could change her wallpaper to.

Your eyes glanced at her home screen and you fully expected her home screen to be the same as her lock screen.

But it wasn't.

Her wallpaper was a picture of you two on your first date.

You were not expecting that.

The picture itself was a selfie you took, your face closer to the camera with Wednesday sitting behind you. You had a wide smile on your face while Wednesday had her iconic death stare.

In the background of the photo was the gorgeous forest of Nevermore. It was where you had your first date with Wednesday.

Wednesday had prepared a picnic and mapped out the best spot in the forest where she apparently knew the two of you wouldn't be interrupted. It was truly magical.

The longer you stared at the home screen the harder you found it to go actually change the picture.

Suddenly, you heard the obnoxiously loud taps from behind the bathroom door, indicating Wednesday was going to come out any second.

You glanced at the door before back at her phone. Even if it was a few seconds before Wednesday emerged that was still plenty of time for you to change it.

You smiled slightly to yourself as you shut the phone off and placed it back to its orignal spot before shifting back to your side of the bed.

As expected the bathroom door opened a few moments later and silently Wednesday walked over to the bed and got in.

She skilfully sneaked under the blanket you two were sharing and entered your personal space before she turned her head to look at you.

"Are you going to put the continuing episode on or not?" She asked impatiently with a tilt of her head.

You didn't reply at first. Instead you leaned down to kiss Wednesday's cold lips.

The shorter girl took a second to notice what was happening before you felt her kiss you back, you couldn't help but smile against her lips at the feeling.

The kiss itself was brief but it still managed to take away your breath as Wednesday pulled away.

She looked up at you with the smallest tint of pink tainting her ears, something you so desperately wanted to comment on.

"Although that was pleasurable why did you kiss me?" You shrugged your shoulders weakly as your grabbed Wednesday's hand with your hand. "I just wanted to kiss you." You said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The rare small smile slowly appeared on Wednesday's face as she turned to look at the TV screen at the foot of your bed. She shifted closer to you as she did so.

You pressed one final kiss to Wednesday's head before you grabbed the remote with your free hand and pressed play for the next episode.

Although your prank was a failure this time you didn't mind.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x femreader #wednesday #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #fanfic #fluff #wednesday addams & reader #my writing #i'm so gay #i'm also so tired

[archerinventive]

This is where I'd post images of me fire dancing, if I had any. lol

Hi all, I need your help.

If you were at the first, second, or will be at the third Oregon Renaissance Faire and snagged photos or video of the Ignition Fire Troupe performance, and don't mind sharing your pics with the crew, please send your captures to [email protected] 🔥

It would be super neat to be able to share the experience with others. :)

Until then I'm just going to edit cartoon fireballs into what few images I do manage to snag of myself before performing. ^^

Thank you all, and I hope you have a safe week. ❤️🧡💛

#fire dancing #fire breathing #ignition fire troupe #medieval fire performance #help a fire friend out #fire friend #oregon renaissance faire #dame archer #archer inventive

[worukin]

╭୨୧︰ childhood friend yandere x male reader

・✦⇢ growing up together with him was certainly a gift. always kind and understanding, never leaving your side. he would always protect you from those who dared to cross you. and now that you're both all grown, he's ready to take protecting you to another level.

︰꒰1・ ( warnings ) — overprotective behaviour, manipulation, yandere themes, bullying, yan taking advantage of his reputation and y/n's shyness.

︰꒰2・ ( notes ) — HIII AFTER A LONG TIME IVE FINALLY POSTED!! Missed you all cant believe i hit 300 already <333 how would you guys feel about yan darling for the special? anyway enjoy!!

( if you are uncomfy with this type of content, kindly block me instead. anyway, hope you enjoy reading this aaa <3 )

You and Kian were attatched at the hip since kindergarten, him first approaching you during the first day of class to talk about how his parents told him about starfish swimming in the sky at night.

Eventually after a few playdates, you were finally ready to call the both of you best friends.

It wasn't much of a surprise to your parents that you didn't try to approach other kids as you were already content with Kian himself, and he took pride in that.

"See! Y/n doesn't need anyone else and so do I! We have each other, don't we?" Kian exclaimed, turning to look to you for confirmation. He beamed when you nodded.

The adults cooed, glad to see their kids getting along well and clinging to each other. "Awe, this is so cute! Smile!" Kian's father out his phone to snag a picture. Kian wasted no time to wrap his arms around you and smile, encouraging you to give a meeker one.

And then during middle school, Kian would always sit beside you during classes you had together. Claiming that having someone you know beside you helped with learning.

This was proven wrong when all you two did was whisper to each other about nonsense, paying no mind to the lesson.

And he'd always share his food with you, even if you didn't forget yours. "Well, mama says I'm a growing boy and need to eat. And since you're a boy you're growing too!"

You took the pieces of Kian's meal he placed into your lunchbox back to his, shaking your head. "I already have enough Kian, growing boys need their own food."

Kian pouted, and began to whine. "But both of our parents told me to take care of you at school! How am I supposed to do that if I don't at least try?" You whipped your head at him, embarassed at what your parents told him.

"They said what!?" Kian nodded at you, chewing. "Y'know because you're shy and can't talk to other people?"

A sigh left your lips. "What does that have anything to do with feeding me?" You shook your head. "Anyway stop it, I don't need to be fed like a baby!" You huffed, before angrily munching away.

Kian sat still for awhile, thinking. Before deciding to tease you. "Aww, why not? Little ol' Y/n only eating when he's fed properly?" He scooped up some of his lunch and went towards you.

"Here comes the airplane! Woooosh!" Kian snickered at your shocked face. "What!? That's even worse Kian!" Grabbing onto his arm to force it back, but Kian wanted to have fun.

"Oh I'm sorry, did you want the choochoo train?" He cackled, eventually placing the spoon back to let out his laughter.

Looking away to stop making it worse, you mumbled. "God that was embarassing..." but you were drowned out by your best friends's giggling. "It's fine Y/n, I don't mind!" He said.

"Well I do." You rolled your eyes at him. "Now eat your food if you wanna grow." Kian stiffled his laughter but eventually went back to eating.

And now you're in highschool, and puberty is making it the worse. People you knew in a small community became mean and targeted you for your shyness.

Well, it wasn't just them who changed. Kian did as well, and you think it's safe to say he's qualified to be your bodyguard.

Always walking you to your classes, fending you off from bullies, sending his harshest glare to those who even look at you wrong. He might be a little overkill but it did provide protection. Even if it did backfire on you.

"Who do you think you are? Using a guy like Kian to protect you? Do you pay him or something?" Being cornered by some other students was definitely not something you expected. Especially when you don't have a bad reputation.

"I don't think so, someone like him wouldn't have any money." One of them snickered. "Look, all we're asking is to leave him alone. It's sad enough he has to hang out with someone like you, jeez."

A girl sighed, "Oh poor Kian, star of the Basketball team having to deal with a loser nobody like you. It's pitifful."

Kian did grow a reputation. For being kind and charming, despite being a class clown he never really said anything degrading. And on top of that, he was athletic. Everything a teacher and a classmate could want.

Active participation, good sportsmanship, good grades, a great relationship among his peers and teachers? And what did you have? All you were was the kid that Kian stuck with, Kian's "friend".

Though none of this answered why they thought of you using Kian when you've been best friends since diapers.

"Aww look, he's too ashamed of himself to say anything. We caught you red handed didn't we?" One scoffed, stepping towards you and grabbing your collar. "Just scram."

And you did. Speedwalking then breaking into a run when you weren't in their sight anymore.

Then, the next day arrived. And as much as you didn't want to— you had to go to school. You already had everything planned out, talk to Kian about this and hopefully he can clear up whatever twisted misunderstanding this was.

But the heated stares you got from some students were enough for you to back out on your plan. Maybe they think I forced him to tell them I'm not bribing him. Ugh.

Nervous thoughts swarmed your head as you sat in your usual seat, and Kian beside you. "Hey Y/n! Wanna go eat out later?" He smiled, sitting down.

Though the prolonged silence confused him a little. Usually you'd nod at him or hum. "Y/n? Did you hear me?" His eyes met yours before you briefly look away. "Okay uhh, did I do... anything? Did something happen?" He suddenly got defensive.

Why is he ignoring me? Kian thought. Staring at you with hard focus. Well I know for a fact I haven't done anything out of line. Have I been to overbearing? Was I that obvious?

Kian hummed, lightly tapping his pencil against the desk. He's been careful for a long time now, managing to keep up the act of an affectionate friend. And it's not like you weren't used to it— cause apparently he's been like this ever since kindergarten, said by both of your parents. So what could be making you act like this?

Honestly, he was a little hurt. You were always such a sweetheart with him. He enjoyed playing the role of a dumb friend who you had to look out for and worry about. And Kian wasn't taking you getting "tired" of him as a reason.

Now you felt bad for ignoring him like this, but you panicked. You were unsure of how to deal with the situation. And now Kian's getting hurt because of it. Maybe I really am an asshole.

It was kind of obvious that something was going on, you had such a somber expression on your face it made Kian frown. The last thing he would want is you getting hurt.

He sighed. Deciding to talk to you about it after school. He wasn't really fond of the idea that you were falling out with him, after everything he's done for you? No way in hell.

Eventually school neared it's end and you tried your best to get out as soon as possible. To avoid Kian and both those guys who cornered you the other day.

With quickened steps and bated breath, you walked out of school as soon as the last bell rung. Kian would surely be swarmed by his teammates— allowing you time to escape.

Oh god, why am I even doing this? Your mind overflowed with anxious thoughts. What if the bullies caught you? What if Kian caught you? The look on his face would be a nightmare.

He'd probably laugh at you for being such a coward, running away from your problems.

Suddenly— an arm reached out to you once you passed by the same street on the way home. Heart beating at the speed of light before realizing it was just Kian.

Oh. It was Kian.

Quickly tensing once you made eye contact, and in a panicked state a bunch of incoherent words left your mouth.

"Kian! I... forgot we always walk this way home." Awkward chuckles filled the air. It made you uncomfortable how you could feel the sweat sliding from your temple.

"Y/n. I was looking for you! Or- waiting for you actually."

He stepped back to give you space. "You worried me man, I thought I did something! I didn't, did I?" He whispered at the end.

For some reason you were relieved to see he wasn't mad at you. I mean, Kian? The Kian who would take care of you when sick? No way.

"Uhm... hi." You whispered after atleast a minute. Kian's face softened. "Hi," he cooed. You were wrapped in a warm embrace once he spoke again. "Hi Love."

Kian wanted nothing more than to smother you in hugs once you were in the alleyway. But he didn't want to overwhelm you.

He missed your voice so much that when he said hi he couldn't help but hug you. Though he was able to restrain himself from squeezing you to death.

Shortly after that, Kian confronted you about why you were ignoring him. Obviously he found out why and let's just say they were dealt with.

Overtime Kian grew paranoid that people would hurt you when he isn't there so... his overprotectiveness kind of grew.

Always sitting beside you, having an arm wrapped around your shoulder, he even got his classes chanbed just for you!

And well... he started to make good use of your personality. Aww, too shy to speak? Don't worry, Kian will order for you!

You didn't mind when he would talk for you, if anything you were grateful. Minus the times he took the opportunity to put words in your mouth.

It's all good fun though! Kian doesn't mean any harm to tease you. (Even if it's on purpose just so he could make it up afterwards)

Give it a few more months and maybe he'll take it to the next level.

ʚ ﹒ ﹕ ̟乀 all works belong to @worukin, do not repost on anywhere else with or without credit, do not plagiarise. ty!

#male reader #x male reader #x male!reader #male yandere #male yandere oc #male yandere x male reader #yandere x male reader #yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #childhood friend oc

[mariacallous]

The patriarch of a right-wing Canadian family of 11 had had just about enough of gay people in his country. “We didn't feel safe for our children there in the future anymore,” father Arend Feenstra told Russian media. “There's a lot of left-wing ideology, LGBTQ, trans, just a lot of things that we don't agree with that they teach there now, and we wanted to get away from that for our children.”

Yeah, if there’s one place that’s just not safe for kids, it’s Canada. Russia would be soooo much safer. 

So Arend (and wife Anneesa) sold everything they had to move to sunny Russia and raise eight of their nine kids with “orthodox” values. They also gladly took donations on their social media platform from fellow right-wingers, all so they could live in Vladimir Putin’s wonderland. Russian officials assured them that they would work with them to get them established, and even help them get a farm. They did all of this just three weeks ago; long story short, they lived happily ever after. 

Except they didn’t. 

First, according to the family, the Russian bank where they moved the proceeds from selling their farm and belongings? It immediately froze their assets. The amount of money seemed suspicious, Arend states in a Feb. 9 video. I guess it would, since so many Russians outside of Putin’s circle are dirt poor. As a result, the family didn’t have money to live on—apparently those nice Russian officials offering to help them had disappeared.

Since no one in the family speaks Russian, they’ve also had a bear of a time trying to argue for their money—because Russia doesn’t require any bank, or any business, to hire English translators. In the meantime, they discovered that Russia is a pretty damn miserable place to be right now.

TikTok user Ukrainian.Networking translated a Russian Federation Reported Media story in a snarky post. 

The Russian reporter noted that Anneesa spoke her mind in a since-deleted video on the family’s “Countryside Acres” YouTube channel.

"I'm very disappointed in this country at this point. I'm ready to jump on a plane and get out of here. We've hit the first snag where you have to engage logic in this country and it's very, very frustrating."

Hoooo boy. They just arrived and already she’s insulted Russia. Now, I’m not saying Russia doesn’t have freedom of the press, but it’s really just freedom to praise Putin and the country he controls. Anything that resembles criticism in Russia is NOT taken as kindly as it is in our godless Western dystopias. I’m also not suggesting that Russian officials paid the family a visit to remind them of where they are, but I will point out that Arendquickly posted an apology video to the Countryside Acres channel, saying that his wife misspoke and they’d deleted the video. 

In that video, he reiterated that no, Russia is really, really great (subtext: “Please don’t push me out of a window”) and he spoke of his hope to resolve the issue with the bank. Commenters weren’t so sure, or kind. They pointed out that the bank will likely never release their funds and it is more likely that he will be recognized as a foreign agent.

At this point, I’m not sure the Countryside Acres farming gig is going to work out. Patriarch Arend should have agreed to be used as a tool for Russian state media. I mean, if you are going to be a Russian Asset, might as well go all-in. 

I’m willing to bet that living in a country that grants gay people basic civil rights might not be looking so bad now. I was wondering if the family is desperately trying to split, so I looked up how difficult it is to leave Russia. According to the BBC, you can leave “as long as you have money and have not been called up to the army.” 

Even if only for his kids’ sakes, let’s hope Arend’s only lost his money.

And I’ll end with this charming reprise of a German eurodisco tribute to Moscow, originally released in 1979. (English lyrics here)

“Welcome to Moscow!” At least the song is catchy.

Comment Award goes to Laughing Gravy: “I’ll bet back home they used to whine about immigrants who don’t know the language, who have no money, who expect the government to hand them a house and a job, and who complain when they don’t get everything they want.”

#Youtube

[pianostarinwonderland]

TWST Valentines Cards 2023

Hell yeah, it's that time of the year again.

Going to make another post keeping record of this year's set of letters. Some cards haven't been found yet, so this post will be updated as I find more cards. If there is an asterisk beside a character's name, that means I only got the text itself but there may be errors and needs to be verified with the picture of the card itself. If any of you have pictures of letters that are either not there or need verification and don't mind showing to anyone, please send to me through DMs!

Since the cards freshly came out and some are still waiting for their own letters, all letters will be posted under the cut!

Riddle Rosehearts

My dear friend— Thank you for the lovely sweets. I'll have them on my study breaks. If they're good, perhaps I'll set them out at a tea party. You'll certainly be invited if I do. After all, there's no rule that states you can't join.

Trey Clover

Hello, friend— Thanks so much for the gift. It was exactly my taste, with just the right amount of sweetness. I can tell you thought a lot about what to get. I'll come up with a recipe based on these sweets sometime. I hope you'll taste test it for me.

Cater Diamond

Eyyy, friendo! Sweets aren't normally my jam, but the ones you picked out were PERF—and they looked great too! You must've put in some WORK picking them out. So, thanks! I'll make sure to do the same for you!

Ace Trappola

Heya, pal— I kinda freaked when I saw you left a present at my door—in a good way! You actually sent me sweets! You could've just given them to me in person, you know. I haven't had any yet, but I'm sure they'll be great! We should share them at lunch tomorrow.

Deuce Spade

My good friend— Thanks for the amazing gift! You got me those mega-popular sweets we just talked about, right? They were so good! It's kind of a shame I ate them all. Have you had any? I guess it'd be weird if I gifted you the same thing, but come shopping with me sometime and we can pick out some sweets for you.

Leona Kingscholar

Hey— You give me SWEETS? I swear, sometimes I don't know what goes through that noggin of yours. I'll be nice and say I appreciate the sentiment...this time. But don't expect any glowing food reviews.

Ruggie Bucchi

Hey, 'sup. I got the sweets you sent! It's always a good day when someone gifts me food. These are supposed to be real popular right now, yeah? They must've been hard to snag. Shyeheehee, that makes them doubly good! Thanks a ton!

Jack Howl

Hi, I was surprised when I smelled something sweet at my door. Consider your present received. I still can't believe you gave me such cutesy-looking sweets. Not that I'm unhappy about it, of course. I actually like candy and stuff. Thanks.

Azul Ashengrotto

My boon companion— Thank you for the heartfelt gift. I suppose I owe it to you to partake of these sweets. Don't worry. Once I've analyzed the flavor, I'll gift you something equally delicious. After all, fair's fair.

Jade Leech

My good friend— You've outdone yourself. Sweets that pair well with black tea? My deepest thanks. I'm flattered that you thought of me so when selecting them. You've inspired me. I'm going to spend my mountain hikes pondering just the right tea blend to suit your palate. I do hope you'll enjoy it.

Floyd Leech

Dear little shrimpy— I saw your present. You got me candy? That rules! I was JUST in the mood for something sweet. I might not be tomorrow though, so I think I'll polish them off today. Thanks.

Kalim Al-Asim

To my dear friend— Thanks for the present! What colorful and sparkly sweets. They look delicious! I just had an idea! How about we eat them together after school? Gifts like this taste better when shared, after all. I'll pick out a good tea to go with them. Can't wait to see you later!

Jamil Viper

Hello— I was surprised to see you gifted me sweets. At first I wondered if you were hinting for me to make you something similar... But when I pulled the gift out of the bag, I saw all the details you put into it, right down to the ribbon. It's clear this was a heartfelt gesture. I'll treasure these treats as I eat them. Thank you.

Vil Schoenheit

Dearest friend— Thank you for the gift. The sweets were dazzling and most attractive. Did you try to imagine what I'd like when picking them out? If so, you made an apt choice. I'll have something for you later in return.

Rook Hunt

Bonjour, and merci beaucoup! What a lovely batch of confections! They’re so darling that I’m tempted to stow them away in a brilliant bejeweled box. Ah, but I jest. I’ll enjoy every morsel of this gift you’ve so thoughtfully bestowed upon me.

Epel Felmier

Dear friend— Thanks for the gift! Sweets from the city have a real fancy vibe, don't they? I'll savor every bite. I know this isn't exactly a gift, but I just scored some coupons for the cafeteria. Wanna join me for lunch tomorrow? Just wait for me, and I'll find you!

Idia Shroud

@YOU huh? What the wha? im low-key scared here why would u give me sweets??? ig that sometimes i run low on sugar when ive been gaming too long and my aim becomes trash... ok sure, if this is ur way of looking out for me, ill take it

Ortho Shroud

Hello, Prefect― Thanks for the present! The sweets were very charming and cute, not to mention colorful. What neat designs! I'll make sure to save this as a special memory. I've run the data on their base ingredients, and hope to gift you some fitting sweets in return soon.

Malleus Draconia

To my dear friend— Thank you. Never did I envision someone presenting me with the gift of sweet treats. It would be a shame for me to eat them all by myself. I think I'll share them with you. Would you be willing to provide the tea to go with them?

Lilia Vanrouge

Greetings! Your present was delightful. The treats had a subtle sweetness that was perfect for a slightly mature fae like myself. I'll be making you a lovely treat in return, using a very special recipe of mine. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Silver

Salutations— Thanks for the gift. I read once that sugar can boost your concentration. Did you give me these to snack on when I'm about to nod off during my studies? That was very considerate of you. I think I'll try them out today.

Sebek Zigvolt

Human— I've received your gift. It was agreeably sweet. In fact, it might've been sweet enough to make black coffee bearable... But I digress. Regardless, I was somewhat impressed with your choice. You have my thanks.

Grim

Dear hench-human— Mraaah! Is this ALL for me?! I've never seen such sparkly, yummy-lookin' candy before! I feel like a king! But I'd feel bad leavin' you out of this sugar extravaganza, so I GUESS you can have a small piece. I'm lookin' forward to more gifts, partner!

Dire Crowley

Dear esteemed student— Thank you for the delicious gift. And don’t bother telling me I was supposed to share it—I’ve already finished the whole package! If you wish for the staff to also partake, I suggest you acquire more treats. But don’t worry, I won’t say a word if you give the same gift twice. I’m kindhearted like that!

Divus Crewel

Dear pup— Is this a gift for the staff? Excellent. Now that I have some treats to sweeten my breaks, I'll be able to grade your exams with a much more critical eye. I can see the grimace on your face now. Relax, it was a joke. It's usually frowned upon for dogs to be the ones buying gifts, but since you're such a loyal pup, I'll let you off. I'm a generous trainer, after all.

Mozus Trein

Dear juvenile— I must wonder why you decided to get me a present. Is this your way of thanking me for my lecture the other day? If so, gifts are hardly necessary. It's a teacher's job to educate students with a thirst for knowledge. I can't accept any offerings from students, but the sentiment is much appreciated. I expect nothing but excellence from you moving forward.

Ashton Vargas

Dear student— Thanks for the present! Excessive sugar is a no-go when building a beautiful bod, but it'd be bad form to let your thoughtful gesture go to waste. Such is the price of popularity. I'll just have to accept that and work off everything I eat. Keep up those reps!

Sam

Yo, little imp! What is UP? Thanks so much for the gift! You've got a real eye for quality. I'll make sure to stock up on goods that'll pique your interest, so swing by the shop soon!

#twisted wonderland #twst #heartslabyul #savanaclaw #octavinelle #scarabia #pomefiore #ignihyde #diasomnia

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Jason Holding Your Hand While You Struggle To Walk Beside Him

Jason Voorhees X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, abuse, bodily injuries

Word Count: 940

(A/N:) Happy Friday the 13th sick things! I'm here to bring your boy Jason as a favor to my friend! She loves the franchise and this masked slasher! Guess he's her equivalent to my Michael Myers. I had to write something for her and I really wanted to post it today because duh! So hopefully this will make the other Jason Voorhees fangirls happy! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Your parents had forced you into being a camp counselor at the newly reopened Camp Crystal Lake. Despite your protests at having to spend summer with cruel students you went to school with, you were shipped off and left to fend for yourself. It didn't take long until the horrible things that they did to you during the school year began to happen at the camp. It didn't matter how many times you told the overseers of the camp, your dilemmas fell on deaf ears. Two days into your camp stay and you escaped to your cabin and refused to come out. You locked the door, letting the pleas of the staff go ignored. Thankfully your mother had packed you snacks, so you had no reason to leave.

That second night you had been holed up everything changed. You had fallen asleep, the sounds of night bugs filling the silence until a scream pierced the air. You jolted awake, a shiver going down your spine. Several moments passed as you tried to steady your breathing, your mind chalking it up to the others trying to get you to come out of your cabin. Laying back down you tried to go back again, when another scream froze your blood. You could hear thundering footsteps as the door to your cabin began to shake. One of the counselors beat upon the door, pleading for you to let them in.

"Haven't you tortured me enough," you shouted pulling your blankets over your head. "Go prank someone else!"

Another scream as a machete pierced through the wood of your cabin door and blood splattered across the frosted glass. You choked back a scream, trying to keep as quiet as possible, praying that whoever on the other side would go away. No such luck as the door shattered letting in the attacker. You shook violently at the giant of a man standing before you. Your eye had been blackened from your fellow counselors throwing rocks at you and the palms of your hands had scabbed over where they had tripped you on the gravel.

"Please," you whimpered. "Don't hurt me."

Though he didn't treat you the same as the now dead girl on the ground in front of your cabin, he didn't just leave you alone. You found yourself walking beside the tall killer through the camp that now was stained with the blood of his victims. Your legs felt like jello as you tried to think of some way to get away. He put a hand at the small of your back, trying to be careful of your bruises. No one had treated you so gently but you really didn't want to go into the woods. He was adamant as he pushed you further. How he could see you didn't know as the moon was hidden by the dense foliage of the trees and small bushes. Sticks cracked under your bare feet and despite his large size he stalked through the darkness in absolute silence. You tripped over roots, sticks snagging on your hair, and thorns scratching up your already battered face. He patiently waited for you to catch up, never letting you fall too far behind. The further in the woods you got, the more exhausted you became until every step you took you were tripping. You couldn't see your hand in front of your face and the terror was beginning to swallow you.

The adrenaline you had before was keeping you going, but now that wore out and you were exhausted. You watched the large man disappear in a thick brush. Letting out a relieved breath you hoped that your luck was finally beginning to change. That didn't last long as he returned not seconds later. Seeing you on the ground he slipped the rusted bloodstained machete under his belt and holding out a scarred and bloody hand. You reclined away from his hand. He grunted wiping his hand on his stained pants before reaching out again. He wasn't going to leave so you gave in, placing your much smaller hand in his large palm. He pulled you upwards, getting you back steady on your feet before starting forward again. A few steps in and you noticed that he hadn't released your hand. It was much easier to walk and keep up with him as long as he held your hand tightly. The coolness of his skin against your warmth was a pleasant contrast it had you shivering.

You lost track of the time and how long you had been walking before exhaustion once again nipped at your heels. Despite him leading you, you were beginning to falter once again.

"I'm tired," you mumbled.

Wordlessly and in one motion you were lifted and held in this stranger's arms. He carried you tenderly making sure no branches snagged in your hair or struck your face. He seemed tireless as he pressed forward. Though he hadn't said a word or made any sort of motions to harm you, it had been the nicest you'd ever been treated. The horrors at the camp, not just from his killing spree, seemed to melt away as exhaustion overtook your body. You fell asleep in his arms as he kept walking forward with a purpose. Thoughts of what everyone would think with you missing was at the back of your mind until you were swallowed by sleep. You couldn't bring yourself to worry as you finally felt safe at last, you melted into his embrace and let yourself be carried away. The unknown before you vast and uncharted, but maybe it would be better. Time would only tell.

#Jason Voorhees X Reader #Jason Voorhees / Reader #Jason Voorhees #Friday The 13th #Jason Voorhees Imagine #Friday The 13th Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

[handmade-witch]

Be Mine ~ Happy Valentines Day 💝

Pairing: Blaise Zabini x gn!Reader

[[AN: Happy love day everyone! 💝 I was struck with inspiration on how you spend Valentine's day with the slytherin boys. I will be slowly but surely working on posting the rest of the boys over the next few days so stay tuned. As always feedback is appreciated and I hope you enjoy! 😇 And remember to show yourself some love today 💓💓]]

Read Mattheo's story here <3

Read Theo's story here <3

Read Draco's story here <3

Read Enzo's story here <3

It's evening and you are getting ready for bed when you hear a soft knock on your door. You open it to find your boyfriend on the other side, holding a box in his hands with a smirk on his face.

"What are you doing?" You ask. You take a step back as he takes a step forward, entering your room and letting the door close behind him.

"I got you something." He says simply. He holds out the box to you. He's still smirking at you and his eyes seem to be twinkling.

"I see that." You take the box from him. It's a large black box with a silver ribbon wrapped around it. You sit on the edge of your bed, holding the box in your lap. Blaise quietly sits next to you.

He watches as you open the box to reveal the most gorgeous (and likely expensive) outfit you have ever seen. You gasp softly as you run your hands over the luxorious material.

"What is this for?" You whisper, eyes still glued to the contents of the box.

Blaise places his index finger under your chin, tilting it gently so your eyes meet his.

"For our date tomorrow" He says smugly.

Your eyebrows draw together in a confused expression. You wracked your brain trying to remember what day it was.

"Valentine's day" he said with a soft smile and laugh, answering the question he could read in your facial expression.

Your eyes widened and you grinned.

"Is this you asking me to be your Valentine?" You couldn't help the wide smile that spread to your face.

"I thought that much was obvious?" He replied. He leaned in, capturing your lips with his. His kiss is soft and sweet as he cradles your face in his hands. When you break apart you both smile.

Your eyes fall back down to the outfit. Blaise, again, practically reads your mind when he says: "It should be the right size."

"How do you know?"

"What do you think I am? An amateur?" He scoffs.

You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into a hug.

"Thank you so much. I love it." You whisper against his ear. "And I can't wait for our Valentine's date."

•••

The next evening you get ready for your date, slipping on the outfit Blaise bought you. He was right, it fit perfectly. You admired yourself in the full length mirror in your room while you finished getting ready. You feel giddy when you hear the knock on your door signaling Blaise's arrival. You almost trip over yourself as you rush to open it.

He looks exquisite, standing in a fancy suit. He's holding a bouquet of a dozen deep red roses. Your eyes widen and your mouth opens into a shocked "o".

"How in the world did I manage to snag such a handsome date?" You gush, your fingers brushing lightly over his shoulder as you take the flowers from him and he kisses your cheek.

"You look incredible darling." He grins at you, admiring how you look in the outfit he chose just for you. You feel heat rise to your cheeks at his words.

"Oh! I have something for you!"

"Darling, you didn't have to."

"But I wanted to." You hold out a heart-shaped box to him. He opens it to find it full of chocolate cover strawberries.

He hums in approval. "Mmh, my favorite."

"I know." You grin at him.

"Thank you love." He takes your hand, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "Shall we go? We don't want to miss our reservation."

•••

For your date, Blaise takes you to a fancy resturant for dinner. Blaise has never been much of a talker but the two of you fall into a comfortable conversation. Blaise has always enjoyed listening to you speak and hearing your thoughts. You were intelligent, which is one of the qualities that drew Blaise to you in the first place.

The dinner is delicious and romantic. After dessert, you leave the resturant, your hand resting in the crook of his arm. The two of you walk down the lamp-lit cobblestone streets, enjoying eachothers company. You pass a performer playing music in the street. Blaise smirks at you, taking your hand and twirling you before pulling you against him. He presses a kiss to your forehead and sways you to the music in the middle of the street- like you were the only two left in the entire world.

The two of you retire to your room, still dressed in your fancy dinner clothes as you lounge on the couch. Blaise opens a bottle of wine, pouring you both a glass. You each take turns feeding eachother the chocolate covered strawberries, giggling and whispering eachother sweet nothings.

"This night has been perfect." You whisper, a soft smile spreading on your face as Blaise gazes at you with soft eyes. "What did I do to deserve something so romantic?" You muse. You reach up, lightly brushing your fingertips along his cheek bones.

"You deserve the world my love." He leans into your touch, his hand resting on your thigh. "And I plan to stop at nothing until you've been given all that and more." You kiss him, tasting the wine and strawberries on his lips.

"I love you," you say breathlessly.

"I love you more." He replies before kissing you again.

#slytherin boys #blaise zabini #blaise zabini x reader #harry potter universe #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott #draco malfoy #matteo riddle #Spotify

[abiiors]

1. she's american // george daniel x oc

a/n: erratic is literally the only word i have to describe it. like i don't have a posting schedule, i don't have a masterlist for it yet (i'll add the link when i have one). idk how many chapters. this literally doesn't even have a canon-accurate timeline!! but i wrote something and i wanted to publish it so i did. hope you enjoy! discussions about it in my asks are always welcome hehe <3 cw: arguments and yelling?? can't really think of any hard warnings wc: 3.2k masterlist

it is a truth universally acknowledged that something must go wrong every time i land in london. this time, it’s matty texting me that he can’t come pick me up from the airport. 

soz, mate. his text reads, really urgent work came up. i’m sending a friend to pick u up tho. i’ll make it up to u tonight. xx. to compound the annoyance of it, a blast of july heat hits me square in the face when i step off the plane and onto the tarmac. 

“make it up” i lightly scoff to myself; make it up is code-word for plying my with cheap beer, greasy pizza and, sure, great weed. i have this routine rehearsed—it’s the same thing we’ve been doing since the age of 14. 

friend? i text back and start making my way towards immigration and the luggage carousels. heathrow is just as big as i remember—massive and winding and really fucking beige for some reason. stepping onto the escalator, i take another peek at my phone and at the three dots bouncing in place, waiting for him to finish typing his message. 

yeah. george. he responds.

george… i try to conjure up a face for the name. somewhere in the back of my mind, i know it’s familiar. george…matty’s friend george. my phone dings again. 

[attachment: 1 image]

it’s a photo of a man, a boy really… he looks like he’s matty’s age and it clicks in my head. this is george and i have most definitely seen him before. his wavy, dirty blond hair is piled on top of his head haphazardly, like he couldn’t be bothered with them at all. the dark roots peek from underneath. george stares directly at the camera, a straight face—straight nose and straight full lips. everything about him screams cool nonchalance. right down to the nondescript white t-shirt he’s wearing. 

and this boy is coming to pick me up after i’ve just travelled for eight hours all the way from new york. 

subconsciously, i sniff at my t-shirt. yep, the sweat combined with the general stink of the airport clings to me like cobwebs. what i really need is a long, cold shower followed by an even longer nap. what i get, however, is a long line at the immigration counter. 

passport clutched in my hand, i look around the area. behind me, an american couple chatters excitedly and plans their itinerary. ahead of me, a british mother reprimands her child for biting his nails. it’s jarring that the american couple’s accents are more familiar to me than the mother and her child’s. 

it’s jarring that despite being gone only four years, everything about london already feels foreign. 

“next please,” the immigration officer calls out, jerking me out of my thoughts. it’s a simple process really. once he sees my british passport, all he has to do is match my face to it and stamp it. 

“thanks,” i mumble when he hands it back to me. 

“welcome home,” he responds and smiles that kind, old man smile.

my heart snags on the word. home. and my life back in new york briefly flashes in front of my eyes; a quick montage of tall skyscrapers and glittery new york nights—but i shake my head and clear the thoughts away. 

yep, home is here now. and that’s all that matters.

bags in my hand, i make my way to the exit, craning my neck and looking all around me for any sign of the dirty blond hair from the photo. 

this is not how i had imagined it would be. i had imagined running into matty’s arms and breathing in his familiar scent, shoving each other playfully until we dissolved into fits of giggles. i had imagined familiarity and comfort; not having to find a practically unknown man in a sea of other unknown people. and even though i had his picture on my phone, i had no way of—

“cleo?”

i turn mid-thought at the sound of my name. the voice that speaks it is rich and deep, gravelly even. yet it’s not a voice i recognise. and then i spot him standing about ten feet away from me. george. 

he stares at me in a scrutinising way, then looks at the phone in his hand and looks back up at me. looks like i’m not the only one with a stranger’s picture in my phone. 

“george?” i raise my hand in greeting and smile slightly. there’s no doubt it’s a tired, pathetic smile but it will have to do. 

this is the first time i’m seeing him properly. and wow, he’s tall. all my life i’ve been used to matty and his almost six feet (the thought makes me smile, i know how mad he gets at the “almost”) but george is so much taller, with broad shoulders and toned arms that are littered with tattoos; colourful tattoos that i try not to gawk at but fail anyway. 

he nods once and starts walking in my direction; long graceful steps that should not belong to someone so huge. and yet in five long strides, he’s covered the entire distance between us. 

subconsciously, i lose a sigh. after the last 24 hours, all i want is for someone to carry my bags for me and preferably gently manhandle me so i won’t have to do the laborious task of walking. 

george does no such thing. 

he walks towards me and right past. and then, while i stand there gaping slightly, he turns around. “the car is parked this way.”

translation: are you an idiot? 

that’s what his tone screams anyway, and confusion along with annoyance washes over me. what the fuck is his problem? i get that he probably got saddled with the task of picking me up on a hot summer day but taking it out on me is hardly the fair thing to do. i roll my eyes and follow him out of the airport and towards the car park. 

dragging my two large trolley bags behind me and trying to keep up with his long strides is no easy task. by the time the entrance to the car park comes into view, i’m jogging lightly and panting to keep up with him. sweat rolls down my back in rivulets while the sun blazes overhead. it’s only 10 am but i am ready to go back to bed for six hours preferably. 

fuck george and fuck his long legs. i refuse to ask him to slow down. 

a mildly beaten-down ford focus comes into view and george opens the trunk before motioning at my bags. i resist the urge to baulk at him—so now he wants to help? wordlessly, i hand the luggage to him and mumble a quick thanks. 

then i turn around and make my way to the passenger side door. 

i realise my mistake far too late. or rather as soon as our hands brush, attempting to open the same door and i jerk mine away like i’ve just touched a live wire. george looms behind me, quiet judgement radiating off of him, probably wondering why i’m on his side of the car. 

i turn around, face burning with embarrassment and something unexplained, only to come face to face—face to chest, rather—with a very unimpressed george. heat radiates off his body this close, heat and an earthy, sweet perfume that i’ve never smelled on anyone else before. 

“sorry,” i back away, “american habits.” but his face remains passive and his eyes trained on the door handle. 

“right. sorry,” i squeak and practically run back to the right door this time. 

i curse softly, at the wind, this entire day. this city and this entire fucking island. but mostly i curse at stupid american habits and stupid british girls who get used to them.

london is crowded as always; at least, that part is similar to new york. except here i see red double-deckers crawling along leisurely instead of yellow cabs zooming by, waiting for no one. in the twenty minutes, we’ve been on the road, the sun has disappeared giving way to grey clouds. the only sound in the car is the whirr of the aircon and the radio playing some old 80s hits at a low volume. everything else is an awkward silence. 

“so matty’s not free today?” i ask. well, i try but all i get from him is a shake of the head before he angrily overtakes the car in front of us. 

“and he’s not going to be free all day?”

“dunno. later maybe, in the evening.”

that’s the most words he’s said to me at one go. and it’s also a pretty clear indicator that he’s done with this conversation—well, ‘conversation’ is pushing it anyway. i just look out the window and at the taxi next to us. 

it’s the american couple from before; excitedly looking out their windows and pointing at all the buildings. i imagine it’s their first time, they certainly have the ‘americans in europe’ air about them. i imagine their day is going leagues better than mine is; i imagine them going back to their hotel room, spending their day being loved up and excited about their holiday. they’ll take photos, eat nice food. they’ll laugh around being silly and saying exaggerated british slang in exaggerated english accents. and then they’ll go home, back to some place that is theirs. 

i snap my gaze back to my lap. 

london is not so bad. matty is here. if i could make a life in new york from scratch then i can do it again. besides i already have friends here, it can’t be that difficult. right?

my phone buzzes in my hands bringing me out of my thoughts. 

nate. 

i have the sudden and violent urge to be carsick. nate, after everything, he has the nerve to try to call me. with more force than necessary, i stab the red button and close my eyes. if george has noticed any of this, he doesn’t react. 

images flash in front of my eyes in a dizzying blur after that—nate. new york. nights that used to blend into dawns. nate. champagne that flowed freely. laughter. friends. happiness. nate. heartbreak. and quite possibly utter ruin, if i want to be dramatic about it.

my phone buzzes again and this time i don’t even pay attention to it. 

george, however, side-eyes it and then shakes his head. “are you gonna get that?” 

i whip my head to look at him, riffling through several responses in my head to politely tell him that this is none of his business. 

half an hour of knowing him and i can already feel annoyance settling between us. george stares at me while we wait for the light to turn green. one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows is raised high, his mouth twisted in almost a grimace. what the fuck is his deal? has he never heard a phone buzzing before?

“no,” i reply curtly and go back to staring straight ahead, glaring at the double decker blocking my view of anything else. 

half a minute later, the phone buzzes again. and george stares. again. 

“for fuck sake,” he grumbles to himself, looking like he’d rather run us straight into the bus than sitting here with me for two more minutes. 

“have i done something to you?” i turn to face him fully, eyes trained on him as he shifts the gear and starts driving again. 

his jaw ticks at my question. i imagine his molars grinding down hard against each other in frustration as his fingers drum restlessly on the steering wheel. 

“no,” he grits out in the same tone i had before. 

“then what the f–then what is your problem with me?” i ask, controlling myself last minute. there’s no need to get rude just yet. 

george, obviously, ignores that and continues to mutter something to himself that i can’t quite clearly make out. 

fuck this and fuck him.

i think back to the last 24 hours i’ve had. i think back to packing my bags while sobbing so hard that i couldn’t see two inches in front of me. of having to figure out a way to get to the airport without nate. of having no one to say goodbye to, no one to tell me that they will miss me. i think back to four years in new york and how by the end of it i was almost back to square one. 

“it’s distracting,” he replies and i resist the urge to scoff. it’s hardly that bad. it’s literally just a phone buzzing. “if you don’t want to get it then turn it off.”

i’m almost certain that by now my jaw is on the floor of his messy car—no, seriously. i don’t know how someone would want to have that many receipts and empty beer cans in their backseat—but george has some nerve!

“what the fuck!?” i glare at him, not even bothering to conceal my irritation now and i have no doubt that if it weren’t for the busy road, he would be glaring right back at me. his hands grip the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turn white. 

“listen,” i continue, “i know you’re mad that matty made you come pick me up—”

“oh you think you know why i’m pissed off?” he retorts, cutting me off halfway. strike fucking two. 

“but i’m not going to sit here and take your shit.” i finish, ignoring him entirely. almost as if the universe were on my side, george turns onto a familiar street. extremely familiar, in fact. i know where i am, i know matty’s house is a five minute walk from here. internally i whoop with joy. 

“in fact,” i continue, mustering up all my snark, “i am not going to sit here at all.” then like a maniac, i put one hand on the door handle and jut my chin up in defiance. “stop the car right now and open the trunk.”

predictably, george stares at me like i’ve lost my mind. and maybe i really have because the next thing i’m doing is unbuckling my seatbelt and tightening my hold on the door handle. 

“stop the car right now, george or i swear to god, i’ll start screaming for help.”

if i weren't so pissed off, it'd be funny how his eyes go as wide as saucers in the span of half a second, how fast his head whips to me.

“you are fucking INSANE!” he yells and pulls over as fast as he can, “fuck, i don’t know what matty sees in you,” he spits and yanks his door open. 

i sit there frozen for a second, all the anger and snark almost leaving my body at his words. almost. but then i hear the trunk opening and the sound of two bags being harshly thrown onto the pavement. 

letting out a string of curses that are aimed at him, his family and at least ten generations of his ancestors, i stomp over to where he’s thrown my bags casually. i don’t stop there. i march up to him, staring him right in the face until i am on the curb and tall enough to reach his chin. 

“you!” i stab my finger in his chest, “don’t get to say that about me.”

george rolls his eyes looking down at me as if i were about as threatening as a baby penguin. and i have the sudden and insane urge to climb on his car so i would finally be tall enough to look down my nose at him. 

“i don’t know what matty sees in you!” i continue the finger-stabbing, just once more to drive the point home but the insufferable man in front of me only scoffs lightly. 

“very original of you,” he drawls, “now if you’re done…” he trails off before his massive hand wraps around my wrist and pushes my hand away. his fingers are warm and rough. calloused hands. 

someone who’s used to being rough with everything he touches. 

and just like that, he’s walking away and back into his car while i’m left fuming on the pavement. honestly fuck george and fuck everything else, i’m just ready to write this entire day off and rot in bed. 

with more force than necessary, i start yanking my bags behind me, practically stomping till the end of the lane where matty’s house stands. george and his car don’t move. 

i imagine him in there fuming like i am right now and then scream out in frustration. a bird in a nearby tree flies away in panic. 

i should not be thinking about that dickhead at all. 

when i’m halfway through the lane, the car starts back up. driving behind me, following like a creep. well, that’s an exaggeration—i imagine he has to report back to matty that i made it to the house safe. still, i want to turn around and yell at him to fuck off. 

between planning his evil demise and chanting all my angry thoughts, i finally reach the house at the end of the lane and freeze. because i realise i don’t have his keys, matty’s not home and i have no way of getting in. and the only person who probably has said keys is currently sitting in his car right behind me. 

slowly, like in one of those cheesy horror movies, i turn around and look in the direction of the car. through the window, i see george rhythmically tapping on the steering wheel, glancing at me while a slow smirk curls onto his face. i can feel the smugness radiating off of him all the way to where i’m standing. 

evil little shit. 

he takes his sweet little time, getting out the car and sauntering toward the front door. before he gets to the door, he stops in front of me, face carefully blank once again with only a hint of arrogance in his eyes. 

“need my help again?” george asks and my god does it take all my restraint not to punch him right in the face. 

“just give me the bloody keys and leave, george,” i spit at him and watch his face morph into confusion. 

he stares at me for a second longer than he should, eyebrows creasing and eyes hardening as wariness creeps in. “why would i give you my keys?”

“so i can get in, you idiot—wait your keys?”

i open and close my mouth like a fish, trying to make sense of his words. he doesn’t mean what i think he means, right? this is all just a stupid misunderstanding? 

“my keys,” he confirms and dangles them right in front of my face so that a tiny metal g smacks me in the nose. 

my throat feels drier than the nevada desert. beads of sweat roll down the back of my neck. and it’s not just sweat from the humidity—no, this is a cold sweat. impending doom and bad omens and whatnot. 

trying to clear my throat, i speak again in a rough, whispery voice, “why do you have keys to matty’s house?” 

but even i know how stupid that sounds before it’s even left my mouth. because why would he have keys to matty’s house. unless…

unless it’s not just his house. and george is not just his best friend. no, george, stupid and utterly infuriating george is also his housemate. 

and now he’s about to be mine too. 

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies

add yourself to the taglist

#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x oc #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #the 1975 fic #the 1975 fanfic #enemies to lovers #george x oc #george x reader #george x you #george daniel fanfiction #george daniel fanfic #keep your enemies closer

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 29 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 2563 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I wasn't ready for any of that. The wounds from losing Dave were still too raw, to the point that acknowledging the desire I felt for James made my heart tighten with regret. What the hell was I thinking? I'd chosen Dave. And yet, he’d left me. What I wanted didn't mean shit in changing anything. How could I want anything from James when the very feeling I had for him had wrecked everything I held dear?

✦ summary: After reuniting with her friends, Nore is compelled to confront the conflicting feelings she still harbors for James.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle

✦ a/n: Hello! I've talked about this previously on my blog, but as we're headed into the last stretch of the story, I would like everyone to know: while the next few chapters are gonna dive into James and Nore's feelings a bit more, Dave will be back! His story with Nore isn't over yet. Also, we'll have an epilogue that is still on the works. I've wrapped up the main part of the story and I'm hosting a poll to see if you guys prefer I keep posting new chapters once a week or if you're up for me posting them twice a week. If anyone wants to vote, here's the link. Hope you enjoyed the read, any feedback is welcome! 🖤

✧ There's something hanging in the air, I won't say shit 'cause I'm too scared / I'll just pretend we're two lovers not destroying each other / And you don't want me to go, and I just can't say no ✧

I met with Cliff and the guys at Los Angeles airport a few days later. I have to admit, the idea of reuniting with my friends after all those weeks left me a bit on edge, and not fully in a good way. However, catching up with Cliff and Leanne, and then with Kirk and Lars, did ease some of that tension. On the flip side, seeing Pat and James hanging out together didn't really help my state of mind. I couldn't help but wonder how, in just two months, they had become so close that she got an invitation to join the tour. Then it hit me with a pang in my heart that I hadn't needed much more than that to fall completely in love with Dave after meeting him.

I didn't really chat it up much with James. Seeing him with Pat kinda brought back all the wounds from that rainy weekend a few months back. But, he did give me a hug the moment he spotted me, holding onto me for maybe a beat longer than needed before whispering, his lips right by my ear:

"Missed you so much."

Hearing that sure didn't make things easier.

Seeing the guys all pumped up about the trip gave my mood a little boost. None of them, except Lars and me, had done the whole international travel thing before. The flight to Amsterdam was gonna be a marathon, so I had plenty of time to catch up with Leanne, who picked the seat next to mine. We mainly talked about everything that had happened in San Francisco during my absence; Leanne didn't ask much about me, which I was genuinely thankful for. It was nice having her around, but I wasn't really up for diving into how the last few months had been a rough ride. We kept the chatter going deep into the night until fatigue finally caught up with us, and we crashed.

We rolled into Amsterdam about twelve hours later, and man, we were wiped. Headed straight to the hotel, and lucky for us, the producers only snagged double rooms. Since we had an odd number and sharing a bed with Kirk or Lars wasn't my jam, I lucked out with a double bed all to myself. Honestly, better than I thought it'd be.

When night crept in, the guys and Leanne hit the town for some drinks and city exploring. Pat and I, though, opted for a chill night in, catching a few movies on the TV. Not that I wasn't up for hitting the streets, but all the hours spent on the plane did a number on me, more than I expected. Pat called it a night and went back to her room early, but I left the TV humming in the background, not really paying much attention to what was on.

It was well past midnight when I heard some heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. My curiosity kicked in as a few deliberate knocks hit my door, and I pondered for a moment, debating whether I should bother answering. But the knocks persisted, and my curiosity won out. With a sigh, I rose from my spot and opened the door. My heart quickened when I found James leaning casually against the door frame.

"Mind if I come in?" he asked, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his voice betrayed a touch of uncertainty. I sighed, feeling warmth spread across my face. Having him so close made my heart flutter in a way I hadn't experienced in a while.

"This isn't your room," I mumbled, stupidly, my ability to think straight suddenly on vacation. He chuckled softly, a quick, dry laugh.

"If you hadn't said anything, I would never have guessed. Can I come in or not?"

I hesitated but eventually stepped aside, letting him in and closing the door. He stretched, shrugged off his jacket, and tossed it on my bed before settling down, kicking off his shoes. I furrowed my brow.

"You should head back to your room. Pat's probably waiting for you."

"She can wait," he said, finishing up with his shoes and pulling out a hair tie from his pocket, using it to secure his hair into a ponytail. Oddly, the sight made him even more attractive. I couldn't help but wonder if the hair tie belonged to Pat, who would often wear her hair tied up, and if he was picking up some habits from his new girlfriend. He stood up, seeming totally oblivious to my thoughts, and casually opened the mini-fridge, grabbing a Coke and popping it open. Then, he lifted his serious blue eyes to me. "I wanted to see you."

"Why?" I questioned, feeling my face warm up and my heart race, a million butterflies in my stomach going wild at his words. He sighed, a faint bitter smile playing on his lips.

"I missed you," he said, his voice low. "Last time we met, everything went south. I thought you hated me. Yet, when I saw you today, Nore..."

"James, please stop," I murmured, my voice trembling. He furrowed his brow, looking away, seeming hurt by my words, and I felt my heart squeeze uncomfortably in my chest. "You shouldn't be saying that."

"Oh, really?" He stood up, placing the can he was holding on the table before coming closer. I took a step back, feeling my face burn as I caught the storm brewing in his blue eyes. "And why’s that?"

"You have a girlfriend, don’t you?" I questioned, my voice holding accusation and hurt. "You brought your fucking girlfriend, so maybe you should just head back to her..."

"You make it sound so simple," he growled, taking another step closer, prompting me to lift my head to meet his gaze.

"And isn’t it?" I shot back, my tone bitter. "How aren't you ashamed of this?"

"Ashamed of what? Of bringing the girl I started dating to try forgetting about you?" he scoffed, clearly pissed now. "Tell me, Nore, what was I supposed to do? Just watch you reject me, again, and again, and again, and then act like you loved me just to mess with my head?"

"This isn’t fair to her!" I blurted out, all worked up, my voice getting louder. "This isn’t fair to me!"

"And what about me? Is it fair what you're pulling on me?"

"I don't get why you thought bringing her along was a genius move..."

"It didn't have to be genius. When you bailed on LA, I called you for days. You were the one who wanted nothing to do with me."

"You're such a jerk!" I spat out, my irritation cranking my voice up more than would be okay for past midnight, but honestly, I'd stopped caring about that ages ago.

James growled, getting suddenly closer, gripping my waist with one hand and pulling me against his body, forcing me to look deep into his eyes as he pressed his forehead against mine, his breathing erratic. His other hand cupped my cheek, his thumb tracing my lower lip. All the anger I had seemed to spill over at that moment; I wanted to punch him, to kick him out, to yell I never wanted to see him again, but I couldn't. Not when his lips were inches away from mine, his blue eyes locking onto mine with a fiery passion that made my whole body warm and vibrate inside.

"You fucking love me," he murmured, a smug smile slowly creeping across his lips. "Things would be so much easier if you just admitted it."

"Shut up, James," I growled, my heart doing a sprint in my chest, blood pulsing with fury in my ears, my hands clutching the front of his shirt and yanking him towards me. I needed him to split; I didn't know how much longer I could trust my anger to hold back the temptation of surrendering to his arms.

"Tell me you don't love me, then," he said, throwing in a sarcastic laugh. "Say you don't love me, and I’ll forget all this and leave you alone. You can't, can you? Because you fucking love me, damn it," His words buzzed with almost unrestrained joy, his grip on my waist tightening enough for me to let out a muffled moan from between my lips. Damn, I wanted him to kiss me. For the first time since all that mess had started, I wanted him to kiss me, to touch me, to make me forget my own name.

"Leave," I shot back, the defiance in my voice wavering as I sensed his body against mine. He let out a low chuckle but stepped back, his eyes ablaze, a smug smile on his face. I rested one of my hands on my chest, feeling my heart thudding against my fingertips, and noticed I was shaking. Gripping the doorknob with my other hand, I turned it but hesitated to open the door. "Just... Go, James. Please," I whispered, the adrenaline of the moment wearing off, and the old pain flooding back to fill my chest as my eyes welled up with tears.

I wasn't ready for any of that. The wounds from losing Dave were still too raw, to the point that acknowledging the desire I felt for James made my heart tighten with regret. What the hell was I thinking? I'd chosen Dave. And yet, he’d left me. What I wanted didn't mean shit in changing anything. How could I want anything from James when the very feeling I had for him had wrecked everything I held dear?

James seemed to catch onto my shift in mood, the triumph in his eyes giving way to pity when he noticed my tears building up. That sparked a rage in my chest; I didn't need his pity. I didn't need anyone's pity.

He made a move to come closer, but I just shook my head, turning away as I opened the door. After he left, I leaned against the closed door, letting myself slide down to sit on the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, feeling more alone, confused, and guilty than ever.

I woke up the next morning, feeling like I hadn't caught a wink of sleep. I groaned my way out of bed, pausing only to wash my face, brush my teeth, and swap outfits before heading down to the hotel's restaurant. There, I spotted Kirk, Lars, Cliff and Leanne already posted up at a table, digging into breakfast. I snagged a plate and plopped down next to Lars.

“After breakfast, we'll pack our bags and grab a shower. We're hitting the road after the show for the next city, so tonight, we’re all gonna be sleeping on the bus,” Cliff was laying out the plan when I rolled in.

“Great. Even crashing on a bus is cozier than sharing a bed with Lars,” Kirk griped, ignoring Lars' offended expression before shooting me a grin. “Hey, Nore, fancy bunking with me next time?”

"As if," I scoffed, and Lars burst into laughter.

"Hey, where's James?" Kirk asked, and I shrugged. Leanne bounced up to snag a hot cup of coffee, and Cliff sparked up a cigarette.

"Bet he's sleeping with Pat. Ever since they got together, she's been glued to him," Lars remarked, not looking too thrilled. Cliff snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Jealous, Lars?" I jokingly tossed the question while slathering butter on a piece of toast. He shot me a look, raising his eyebrows with a smirk.

"Hmm, not me. Can't say the same for you, though, huh?" His ironic smile lingered. I let out a frustrated huff, rolling my eyes, feeling the heat rising in my cheeks. Okay, maybe I walked right into that one.

A few minutes later, James and Pat finally strolled in. James, much like me, seemed to have had a rough night, evident in the dark circles under his tired blue eyes. On the flip side, Pat appeared to be the poster child for joy, easy smiles appearing on her lips as she talked to James, occasionally hugging his arm or intertwining her fingers with his. It was like she exuded confidence, as if she knew this was exactly where she belonged. Kind of got on my nerves, but I wasn't ready to dig into why.

The hustle for the show kicked off right after breakfast. We only had a short break to change and pack before heading back to the hotel lobby. A producer-arranged bus was set to pick us up, transporting everyone to a studio for the guys to rehearse the setlist during the day, and later to the venue for the shows. This leg of the journey got us all pumped. It wasn't just the band's inaugural international gig; we were also looking forward to meeting Venom and, naturally, enjoying some complimentary drinks. I must admit, even I was feeling a twinge of excitement and anxiety about the upcoming events.

I sparked up a cigarette while we hung out in front of the hotel, checking out the guys in action. They were teamed up with a couple of roadies, hauling gear that had been lugged up to the rooms the day before. Leanne strolled over.

"Got a light?" she asked, flashing a grin. I nodded, fished out my lighter, and passed it her way. She sparked up her cigarette, taking a few drags till it glowed. "Can I ask you something, Nore?"

"Sure thing, Lea," I replied, all curious. She shot me a look, her usual relaxed vibe getting a bit serious. Her eyes narrowed, like she was attempting to peek into my brain. "Spill it, what's on your mind?"

"How's it all sitting with you? You know, this whole James situation?" she asked, making me feel like there was a spotlight on me. 

"James? What do you mean?" I stammered, feeling the heat hit my face. She let out a soft chuckle at my reaction.

"I'm seriously wondering how she hasn't picked up on it yet." Leanne nodded toward Pat; she was holding James’ hand and talking to Lars, who seemed bored out of his mind, like he'd rather be doing anything else. "The way he looks at you. And the way you look at him."

"What are you getting at?" I whispered, my heart doing a somersault of sorts in my chest.

"You're into him, right? And it's crystal he's into you. Maybe you two should ditch the pride act and just… Allow yourselves to be happy."

"But Pat likes him too," I mumbled, letting a touch of annoyance creep into my voice. And I still don't know if I can allow myself to like anyone again.

"Honestly? I think she's crushing harder on James Hetfield, the Metallica frontman, than our James," she said with a chuckle. "Babe, you and James always clicked so easy. You seriously gonna let that slip away like this?"

I was kind of stumped for a response; right then, the bus rolled up, stealing everyone's focus. Lea crushed her cigarette and shot me a smile, then sauntered over to Cliff, offering a hand with carrying an amp. I took a minute to soak in the sight before joining them, attempting to shove aside the tornado of feelings Leanne's words had kicked up in me.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9

#ada writes fanfiction #heartbreaker fanfic #metallica #megadeth #james hetfield #dave mustaine #cliff burton #lars ulrich #metallica fanfiction #dave mustaine x oc #dave mustaine fanfiction #nore burton (oc) #james hetfield x oc #metallica x reader #megadeth x reader #james hetfield x reader #dave mustaine x reader #metallica smut #megadeth smut #james hetfield smut #dave mustaine smut #cliff burton x reader #megadeth fanfiction #david ellefson #kirk hammett #megadeth x you #metallica x you #dave mustaine x you #james hetfield x you

[angel-of-the-moons]

Part of the same ask from 💐 anon: Link

Love, Your Biggest Fan

Pavitr Prabhakar x Super Fan!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: There is an attempted mugging, but mostly fluff

A/N: Tumblr was stupid and erased the whole fic I wrote the first time so I have to attempt to rewrite it from memory, now. Thanks, phone.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

"I bet he's really handsome underneath that mask of his!" Your best friend sang as the two of you walked, eating your shaved ice as the sun began to set.

"Eh." You shrug noncommittally, eating the last scoop of your flavored ice.

"Oh, come on!" Your friend groaned. "I bet he's suuuuuuper handsome! What do you think he looks like?"

"I don't see why you're so hung up on him, he's just some guy." You scoff softly.

"Just some--" She shook her head and looked at you like you grew an extra set of eyeballs and a pair of antlers.

"He's Spider-Man!"

"Exactly. He's just some guy with superpowers. These days, they're a dime a dozen." You say, rolling your eyes, dumping the empty cup in a trashcan you passed, your friend doing the same as you come to a stop, a fork in your paths where you must separate.

"Ugh, you are the only person I've ever met that isn't interested in him!" She said, shaking her head. "You're probably the only woman I know who doesn't wanna see his face under that mask!"

"Like I said..."

"Just some guy in a costume, yeah yeah yeah." Your friend snorted, shoving at you playfully.

"See you at the lecture on Monday. Don't forget to bring your notes. You know that Pavitr guy is gonna forget his again, and ask you for yours."

"Yeah yeah." You grin as she walks away.

You couldn't tell her. How could you? What would she say? Would she make fun of you?

You did care. You cared about Spider-Man a lot.

You had an online forum on a website that you ran. You even did some amateur investigative journalism, writing columns on him and delving articles to quell the lies that the press tried to smear his reputation as a "potentially dangerous vigilante" with a "disregard for proper law".

You hope, if he'd ever seen your posts, that he considered you an ally in a sea of people who tried to dismiss him as reckless.

You cursed your absentmindedness when you realized just how late it had become. You watched as shops closed, and people filed into the safety of their homes for the night; streetlights buzzed to life, casting an eerie orange glow as the sun disappeared beyond the Mumbattan skyline.

You were still a good ways away from home.

There was an alley you could take, that cut a shorter path to your apartment building... You could take that. It would be faster.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

Taking the alley was a stupid, stupid move.

You never take a dark alley when the sun went down. Especially not in this neighborhood.

That was how you found yourself in the situation you were currently in; pressed against the wall, a hand over your mouth and a large knife pressed to your gut.

"Shut up and give me your bag. Now." The man growled.

You felt panic rise in your stomach as the knife glimmered too brightly in the dimly lit alley.

You became frantic, and bit down hard on the man's hand, making a mad dash in an attempt to escape as he reeled away, cursing at you.

You let out a shriek as your feet pounded the pavement, and we're suddenly yanked back hard by the straps of your backpack, thrown to the ground so hard that it knocked the air out of your lungs.

"I was gonna let you go." The man growled. "I wasn't gonna hurt you. But now, I'm gonna teach you not to mess with me, missy!" He raised his hand, the knife poised to strike at you as you tried to desperately skitter away on your hands and feet.

But as you watched the knife swing down, it snagged on a string of silken white. It was suddenly ripped out of his hand and tossed back into the alley somewhere, clattering uselessly to the ground.

"Now didn't your mama ever teach you it's not nice to harass a nice lady minding her own business?"

Your jaw dropped when you saw him. Here he was. In the flesh. Up close.

Spider-Man.

He was hanging upside down, suspended by a web that appeared to be coming from one of the golden bracers on his wrist, his other hand pointed and ready to fire another wad at your attacker.

But frankly, the man looked like he pissed himself as he ran away, panicking.

"Ha! Talk about a coward! Not so big and scary without your knife, huh?" Spider-Man called out, jeering the man as he did a magnificent flip and landed on his feet.

He walked over to you, leaning down and he held his hand out for you to grab.

"Sorry that had to happen to you, but lucky for you I was here to stop that jerk!" He said, his voice bubbly and happy.

"Oh! I... Th-Thank you..." You peeped, taking his hand.

It was very warm. Or maybe it was just you. Was your hand sweating? Oh god, don't make an idiot of yourself, don't faint. Don't make an idiot of yourself--

"Anytime! I--heyyyyy! I know you! You're that girl who writes all that nice stuff about me online!"

Don't faint. Don't faint...

"I... You... You know who I am?" You balk.

"Yeah! Your writing is good! You should consider doing it professionally!" He giggled, his chocolate hair bouncing.

"Oh, I..."

"Hey, do you have a phone?"

Yeah. You were gonna faint.

"I... I do?" You say, fishing it from your bag and holding it out for him.

"Can you unlock it?" He hums.

You enter your pin and hand it over to him, blushing slightly when he sees that your home screen wallpaper is fanart of him, and he giggles softly.

He finds your camera app and opens the front-facing camera, hooking his arm around your shoulders and points the camera at you.

"Here! Say chaaaaaai!" He sings, smiling widely beneath his mask.

"Um, chai?" You say, grinning into the camera.

He snaps the selfie, and promptly hands your phone back to you.

"Here you go! A little thank you for being so nice online!" He chirps.

"Oh, um, it's no problem, I... You didn't have to..."

"Hey hey! Anything for my biggest fan!" He winks at you.

You stow your phone away in the confines of your bag.

"Do you want a lift home? I wouldn't feel right leaving you to walk by yourself at night, especially after what just happened to you!"

"Eh?"

You didn't have a moment to process before he scooped you up, princess-style and flung out his wrist, swinging you through the sky of Mumbattan.

🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷🪷

You laughed as Spider-Man set you down on your balcony, your legs almost like jelly as you wobbled.

Spider-Man was laughing too.

"Now, was that, or was that not way better than taking a taxi?" He joked, his hands on his hips as he bounced on his heels.

"Way, way better." You smile at him.

"Hah! Knew it! The Spider-Man express!" He winked.

You brushed your wind-touseled, untamed hair out of your face, tucking a strand behind your ear.

"Thank you." You say. "For everything. Not just saving me, but... Like, everything you do. I... I know not everyone thinks highly of you, but..."

"Oh! Uh..." He bounces on his heels, swinging his arms a bit awkwardly. Wait. Was he embarrassed?

"Anytime! It is my job after all!" He chuckled.

"Thank you." You say again.

"Well, uhm. I, uh... I should go!" He says, turning away.

"Wait! Will I... Will I see you again?" You ask, grabbing his arm.

His eyes go to where you gripped him.

"Without a doubt. Gotta pay the gal who says good things about me a visit from time to time, right?" He giggled.

"I... I'll hold you to it." You nod.

He winked and did a backflip off your balcony, swinging on a strand of silk with a loud whoop.

As he disappeared into the cityscape of Mumbattan, he reminded himself to forget his notes on Monday.

#💐 anon #answered #pavitr prabhakar x you #pavitr prabhakar x reader

[oogaboogasphincter]

Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x Female Reader - Whiskey Lives - Post Canon: Kingsman The Golden Circle - Happy ending for Agent Whiskey with Smut.

Jack is the best husband and I want he happy ending. 💖😭

Cabin Fever | Agent Whiskey x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MDNI! | hurt then comfort, mentions of Whiskey's trauma but nothing too specific, relationship troubles but don't worry they're all resolved by the end, spoilers for kingsman:tgc, alternate ending, swearing, pet names (sunshine, sweet pea, babygirl, honey, darlin', baby), unprotected piv sex (do as i say not as i write and protect yourself!), vaginal fingering, nipple play, tickling (jack has been charged with one count of getting too silly), reader and jack are married, reader has no physical description and uses she/her pronouns | 2.8k words

a/n: i can't even begin to apologize enough for the amount of time it took me to write this 😭 i was super busy w my personal life and i couldn't make up my mind about where i wanted to take this sweet request, but i finally stuck to one idea and i really hope you enjoy it!! 💙

After Eggsy and Harry detained Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels following his confession of acting on his own interests, the prideful Statesman felt defeated. Hauled into the president's office by two burly officers, Jack got down on his knees before Champ with his Stetson clutched in his worried hands, brow furrowed in sorrow. Jack's ego was melted into a pitiful puddle as his boss rattled on about his misuse of power and desecration of Statesman dignity. Luckily, Jack's sweet brown eyes and his promise to never abandon his duties so traitorously again lowered his charge from permanent suspension to a temporary leave of post.

Jack's fallout was only halfway resolved. The next part frightened him much more than the first; he had to make things up to you. He departed the Statesman headquarters and hurried across the street to the nearest phone booth, where he dialed your number with shaky fingers. Amidst the dramatic downpour streaming down the windowpanes and the battering sound of raindrops on the roof, Jack tried to steady his anxious breaths as the line rang.

Given the covert nature of his Statesman work, Jack was barred from any and all communication with you for the duration of his missions. You understood and respected this ordinance from the beginning of your relationship and, while sometimes it could be annoying and inconvenient, you and Jack both would move mountains if it meant the preservation of your happiness together. However, this last missions had snagged on the delicate heartstrings of your relationship and put it to a test that Jack wasn't sure it would pass.

Throughout your relationship, he had always made sure to give you a heads-up about his call to action 24 hours in advance; no more, no less. It was only fair to you that way, so you two could give each other a proper, passionate goodbye and have enough time to warp both your morbid fears into eager promises of homecoming. But this last time was different. A bad type of different.

He had awoken you three months ago, in the middle of the night, with hurried scrambling to pack his suitcase. Bleary-eyed with sleep, you got up to help him, but he shook you off. Not in the sweet, considerate way he normally would - softly lulling you back to sleep with his velvet drawl - but in a jarringly despondent way instead. He didn't even meet your eyes as he stood rigid in the doorway, uninviting of your usual goodbye hug, with a white-knuckled grip on his bag. He spoke abruptly, "Should be back in about a month. Don't go pryin' into Ginger for clues if it's longer than that. I..."

He looked up for the first time that night into your eyes as his terse voice trailed off, morose darkening the usual brightness of his chestnut gaze. He didn't speak as he held your gaze, but more so breathed out the words on a heavy exhale, "I'll miss ya."

Without another second to rethink his ambition, he dropped his eyes to his boots and closed the door behind him softly. You sat there in the dark silence and stared at the golden outline of the door as Jack turned the hall light on momentarily. The unique sound of his nylon coat getting pulled on over his tweed jacket was his final goodbye and your final pang of sadness, or so you thought. Through the door, you head Jack whimper, his voice breaking as his breath caught in his throat, "I'm sorry." Heartbreak struck you like a lightning bolt and the sobs flooding your cheeks drowned out the rushed, cowardly thuds of Jack's boots down the stairs and out the door.

Against Jack's wishes, you drove to Statesman and consulted Ginger the very next morning. She assured you that, despite Jack's alarming behavior, it was warranted given the severity of the mission. She didn't give you any specific details, but she plied you with enough confidence to get through that first month of no Jack. As the second month began, you routinely checked in with her as your impatience and worry intersected into madness. You spent the days and nights pacing your floors like a caged animal, the highlight of your day being the ping of your inbox signaling that maybe, just maybe, Jack's safety was guaranteed and he was on his way home. No such message ever revealed itself, only false alarms that aggravated your torment.

Ginger's reports became few and far between, with the tops she would get about Jack's whereabouts pointing toward a less than favorable plight, until they ceased altogether. The third month was an evil cycle of pain, numbness and tragedy that kept you holed up in your apartment you shared with Jack. Unable to abandon your doom nor forfeit your hopes, you paced by the phone, the computer, the mailroom downstairs. Hard days had shortened to hard hours. Your eyes avoided the framed photos on the walls chronicling your friendship, your dates and your wedding with the man whose innocent, bright smile now brought you to tears.

The phone rang while you were in the shower for the first time in more days than you would ever admit (your spiral of depression had vexed your hygiene). You jumped out like a wet dog and immediately answered the unknown number with a shriek, "Jack?!"

"It's me, darlin'. It's me."

Jack's voice was hoarse with tension, desperation and agonizing release. Upon hearing your cries of relief, the joy that Jack lost on the night he left you slowly bloomed from its freeze and worked its way into his smile. Those little happy lines around his mouth and eyes that would deepen whenever he thought about you came to life as you ecstatically chanted his name into the receiver. Jack waited until your giggles died down to establish his sincerity.

"Listen, I was a real piece-of-shit for just walkin' out on you like that. You-" Jack is forced to pause as his heart chokes him up, thinking about the forlorn way you looked at him that painful night all those months ago. He swears he had heard your heart break in half, or maybe it had been his own. "You deserve so much more than that, sunshine. I gotta lot of explainin' to do, and I- I owe you my greatest apology, sweet pea... Will you forgive me?"

Of course, you forgave your husband in an instant. Jack is a beautifully complex soul, one whose radiant love is more than worth traversing the jagged trenches and steep cliffs of buried trauma and a demanding profession. You'd capture the world and wrap it up in a bow for him if he asked.

In an apology to you, and to take full advantage of his pardon from work, Jack took you back to his childhood home for a vacation. In a deep, rural cut of Kentucky countryside lies the grand cabin; outfitted with a wrap-around porch, hickory logs and the southern charm of acres upon acres of undisturbed land.

The perfect place to have long, intimate conversations by the fireside, Jack's honesty about his savory actions was illuminated the first night you stayed at the cabin. He took your hands in his and explained the whole ordeal, from start to finish, about how when he first got wind of the Golden Circle mission, his trauma was reignited like kindling; how at first he was intent on acting in Statesman's best interests, but then a thunderstorm began brewing inside him that he couldn't stop; how it just kept worsening until it had seemed to have passed in triumph, only for the flood to come and tumble him down from glory, nearly earning himself a gruesome death; how in the wake of his conviction the darkness finally cleared and he was able to see how foolish he had been, how reckless he was with his valor, how he endangered his comrades, himself, and, most importantly, his relationship with you.

With shared tears of bereavement, understanding and overdue reconciliation, your relationship's foundation was not only restored to its former glory, but reinforced with a newfound level of trust. Jack had dismantled the ground right under your feet, but he meticulously placed every crumble back into place until all was well again. His earnest indebtedness to you and unrelenting resilience to win your heart back had you wrapped around the cowboy's finger and pulling him in close by his lapels for a kiss.

What started as a soft dance, that of two lovers getting reacquainted with one another after a period of separation, didn't last long. The almost shyness you held toward one another dissolved into thin air when Jack's heavy hand returned home to your thigh, a place he rubbed soothing circles into when you were anxious and admired the plush give of your flesh under his adoring touch.

Tongues slipped into each other's mouths with practiced ease and your noses smushed together in your desperate efforts to get closer. You used all your might - plighted by your dizzying arousal - to try and pull Jack on top of you, eliciting a chuckle from the man, muffled into the increasingly passionate kiss. Jack's mustache bristled against your cheeks as he smiled, and with his lips remaining entwined with yours, he bent with your touch and granted your wish. His strong, protective arms gently moved you down to lie on your back and he rested his comforting weight atop you. His hand itched with desirous curiosity and it flowed over your figure, retracing his favorite paths down your body to remind himself that you're here now, that neither of you are going anywhere, that you'll never find yourselves anywhere near that painstaking hiatus ever again.

His sly fingertips nosed their way into the waist of your jeans, setting off a chain reaction of discarded clothes until both of you were naked. Your husband had to wretch himself away from your mouth, wanting every part of his soul to be consumed by you, but he had a plan. He laid you on your back once more and propped himself up with one forearm on either side of your head, gazing down at you with a lustful sparkle in his eyes and that warm, boyish smile. This is the Jack you know and love, and you couldn't be happier that he's finally home.

"We got a lot a' makin' up to do, darlin'," he practically purred into your ear, grabbing one of your thighs in each of his broad palms and hiking them up on his hips, where you still find yourself now, a few blissful hours later.

Your legs split impossibly farther apart to accommodate Jack's strong hips, grinding deeper up into your core with every thrust. Watching his cock drive through your swollen folds and into your plush depths, you grow feral at the explicitness of it all and bring your hand to your mouth. You spit onto your fingertips and ply your aching bundle of nerves with wetness, soothing your craving for more.

"'Atta girl," Jack growls, hypnotized by the tight circles you draw on your weeping clit.

He lays his index finger - still dripping with your slick from taking you apart earlier - under your chin, ruefully tearing your eyes away from the glorious sight of him claiming you over and over again. His hand wraps around the back of your head with purpose, fixing your gaze on his and pulling your whole body into his thrusts. The onslaught of pleasure combined with those big brown eyes staring you down, laden with fiery infatuation, strums a whimper out of you, one he quickly leans down and swallows in a sloppy kiss. He leans back on his thighs to watch you unfold and his carnality overtakes with a curl of his lip and a snarl.

"You gonna make yourself cum, babygirl?"

You shake your head rapidly, barely managing a noise of contest. Jack's brow furrows and his pace falters slightly as he attentively studies your expression, your vocal cords strained and sweat dappling your temples, "Y-you, Jack. You are gonna- g-gonna make me..."

You try to tell him that he's the one that's going to make you cum, that it's all him, it's all for him, it's always been and it'll always be him, but you gasp and splutter around the words. Looking into his eyes through your tear-filled ones, though, you know he knows. He knows he's the only one to ever make you feel this ravaged, this devastated, this loved. You don't see the way his momentary concern slips into a sly smirk at your incoherency; your vision blurs to a sludge of tan skin, brown hair and the pulsating red behind your eyelids of your impending orgasm, but you hear his salacious, sated groan through his teeth.

Jack's free hand grabs your chest for leverage as he ramps the pace of his drives back up, "Cum for me, honey." Against your sweat-slick skin, his thumb slips and brushes your nipple, catapulting you off the edge and into the abyss of pleasure.

You scream, scream his name, your walls tightening around him so hard you don't understand how he's able to continue plunging his cock in and out of your quivering cunt. Your cries of his name turn into shrieks when his thumb and forefinger stroll deviously across your breast and twist your nipple harshly, adding to the storm the deliciously rough texture of his calloused skin. You barely register the distant echoes of soft, tender encouragement as Jack's commanding tone melts away to pure awe, "Yes, baby, yes."

Jack nears his peak as you're still lost in the depths of your own. The sight of you writhing beneath him, rapture twisting the beautiful body he's worshipped over the years, injects his heart with a burst of warm affection.

On his mission, there were moments when your face eclipsed his vision, your melodic voice chimed in his ears, and devastation rotted his heart at the thought of never seeing you again. But, with you in his arms now, exposing him to the wondrous intimacy of your unconditional love, he feels like a live wire.

The bedframe rattles with Jack's incessant thrusts. His sultry sweat drips down his body and washes you in his addictive musk. Despite the sweltering heat of the moment, his nose scrunches up in a most adorable way as his balls tighten up with his impending release. Your pussy is hot and wet from overstimulation but you continue to leak around Jack's cock, coating him in your slick with every thrust.

"Please, please, Jack," you beg in a blissed-out murmur, floating in that fuzzy headspace such intense orgasms bring. Your fingers, weak with delightful fatigue, grab onto Jack's forearms. His veins protrude from his muscles gorgeously as he pins your hips to the mattress, fucking you deep. Jack cuts cleanly through your dwindling haze with a few final thrusts that slow from his frantic speed, but are twice as powerful in intensity. Grunts accompany his movements until his climax hits, his soft stomach tightening with a choked groan as his balls empty his sticky release inside you. His hips continue to buck his pulsating cock forward, stuffing your narrow heat full of his seed.

A shudder washes over him as he gingerly pulls his cock out, both of you hissing at the heavenly sting of your raw flesh. Your husband sits back on his ass with a huff, gazing at your fucked-out form with a stare glazed over with satisfaction. You meet his eyes when they flicker up at you with a playful wink, until he's torn back to your core when your pussy begins to squeeze out his cum from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Naturally his hand drifts to his dick, giving it a few gentle strokes. He's getting hard again, in spite of his reddened tip still drooling with cum. The corner of his mouth twitches up in a devious smile, and his fixed ogling makes him look like he's ready to pounce again.

You close your thighs with a giggle, covering your weeping entrance with your hands. Your smile is bright as he brings his hands to your sides and tickles your ribs, trying to get you to open back up. "No! No more, no more," you tease him through the symphony of your combined laughter.

You hadn't heard Jack's warm, genuine laugh since before he had gone off on his mission. It drowns you with overwhelming emotion before you can stop it; warm, happy tears prickle at the corners of your eyes.

Jack ceases his tickling and sighs dramatically, opting to wrap his arms tight around your waist, "Alright, darlin', alright." He notices the shine in your eyes and immediately cups your cheek with precious gentleness, "Darlin', what's wrong?"

You shake your head to ease his worry with a soft smile, "I... just love you." Your lovestruck gaze is mirrored in his blown pupils, just like the adoring arc of your lips. Jack leans in close to nuzzle his nose against yours, enveloping you in an embrace saturated with eternal devotion.

"I love you too, sunshine."

main masterlist ♡ join my taglist!

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#agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey fanfiction #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey x afab!reader #agent jack whiskey daniels #kingsman the golden circle #pedro pascal character #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels x afab!reader #jack daniels x female reader #agent whiskey x female reader

[thedomesticanthropologist]

A comment you said on your last post really hit me as a good point of development/angst, please take or leave as you'd like and apologies if I've mischaracterized your Tav at all, but still hope this helps turn some wheels. "As a Cleric of Ilmater Mira is no stranger to Suffering for the sake of Faith." Has Mira considered that Astarion suffered for nothing?

Ultimately Mira's suffering gets her a cool connection with a god and awesome powers. Would that not make Astarion bitter in that respect? To me it seems like Mira is constantly pushing back against Astarion with a lot of "why is he like this" and "you have to be better because it's the right thing to do." At what point does Astarion share his story with her about that boy he tried to spare from Cazador's wrath? I feel like with this dynamic, that would be something he'd bring up as proof that she just got lucky that her god gave a shit about her in particular. Like he did the right thing, was horrendously punished for it and as far as he's concerned, Ilmater was sitting around twiddling his godly thumbs.

I feel like that would be a good point to develop some better mutual understanding between the pair of them that would make Mira maybe not forgive Astarion in the Act 2 confession, but at least understand where he's coming from, rather than just pushing her worldview.

So! You gotta keep in mind that the story you're referring to isn't told to the player character until Act 3, well after his confession.

By the time he confesses, Astarion has (depending on how many cut scenes you've managed to snag/long rests etc) Only told you that he lured victims back to Cazador, and that Cazador is a monster.

He's told you about his scars, and how he pities the other 6 of his "siblings". Plus a few small anecdotes, but *none of them* about anything he's ever done for anyone else.

He has however:

- Been extremely racist towards the Gur based on being attacked by them, likely having been hired by Cazador based on how the story was told so Mira explained that you can't hold an entire race of people accountable for the actions of the few. Astarion said he absolutely can, and fuck you

- Assaults you in your sleep then begs for blood and if you do trust him enough to let him bite "I'll be as gentle as a babe! I only need a little" but u don't pass the checks he will murder you

- Tried to abandon the Tieflings to their fate and told Mira they should move on not because of the tadpole problem, but because killing goblins "would take hours" and he's too lazy to bother

- Repeatedly and loudly stated that he desires power over all else, but has NOT yet told her its because he's scared/desires to feel safe

- Asked to be left out of the Nere quest because he didn't want to ruin his nails and would prefer to move on. Mira said Nere isn't the point, the gnomes are and he was EXTREMELY racist towards deep gnomes in general. He has NOT yet explained to the PC / Mira why he is against digging through rock (the crypt for a year thing) by the time he does this

- Tells you if you get in the way of what he wants he will go through you if necessary (denying him the tadpoles) and to stay out of his way

- Snaps at you about how to deal with Yurgir if you try to figure out what's going on instead of immediately killing him, even if you plan on killing him, and also rails against PC loudly in many other instances as well

And much much more, I won't go on. The point is that by the time he confesses, you have no back story. You have nothing to go on. There is nothing to trust. And the ONE thing Mira and Astarion had together where she thought they were making headway, their physical relationship, has now just been revealed to be a huge scam from the start.

Not ONLY that, but he doesn't regret doing it. He is proud of his simple plan and upset that it fell apart (at least that's how he presents it) and does NOT apologize for trying to use her. He instead says because he fell in love and she is so incredible he feels he can trust her enough to confess his deception without fear of being kicked out of the party.

You must remember that while Astarion has reasons, he hasn't revealed them. And if you judge a man based on his words and actions, at the point of the confession scene, he's not got a lot going for him besides puppy dog eyes and a backstory of admittedly horrific slavery that has only been lightly touched on because he wants you to know Cazador is Bad, but he's not about to spill his guts on what really all happend to him yet.

TLDR: Faith is just about all Mira has to give at this point, and Astarion has made her suffer by gaining her trust through manipulation and then only messing up because HE caught feelings.

In other versions of the game, if you don't finish his quest, he breaks up with PC very cruelly.

If you make it to Act 3 with Caz and you don't make the right dialogue choices or pass the persuasion and instead just say you won't let him ascend, he says he hopes you die screaming.

This man is my fave, don't get me wrong. But without the knowledge of his entire character, when you go in blind or you play a character that you don't give High Insight to, you have to see that he is a very difficult person to navigate. Especially a Lawful Good Cleric of Ilmater who's life purpose is to help and alleviate suffering.

She feels called to him because of his suffering and she *does* have faith she can help, but that faith is majorly BLIND right now and it hurts to know the man who proved time and time again that he isn't trustworthy just confessed his love by explaining that he has been extra untrustworthy

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #mira the cleric #tales of mira

[sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw]

Day 22 | Master/slave - Scaramouche

Interest

Kinktober Masterlist

Gender neutral reader (genitals not specified)

Word count: 1,818

18+, noncon, blowjob, rough, powerless reader, master/slave or servant dynamics

A/n: I actually started writing this months ago, and decided to finish it now for this. I actually feel pretty proud of this. And originally this was only going to be posted on AO3, but I guess it gets to be on tumblr now too. Hope you enjoy. Can puppets cum? Idk I guess it doesn't matter

Apologies that this is 4 hours late, I accidentally set it to 8 pm in scheduling

You held your breath, back pushed against a wall. You peered around the corner. They were still there. Two fatui. What were they doing here? You specifically escaped to Liyue to avoid them.

Deciding to stay out of sight, you walked behind the buildings of the main road. Though it could have the opposite effect of being conspicuous to anyone who noticed, that was a chance you were willing to take.

With your heartbeat in your ears, you tread in the shadows of the shops. You climbed over a crate piled in your way. Ahead of you was an opening to get out and hide deeper into Liyue. However you would have to take the risk of stepping into broad daylight.

Swinging your leg over, you jumped down from the crate. It was only in that moment that you noticed your foot snagged on a board. Everything seemed to move slower than time as you watched helplessly as it fell to the ground.

The sound of a heavy board hitting stone clattered and reverberated in the quiet of the backstreet. It hurt your ears. Your muscles tensed up.

Your mind was spinning and reeling. Too loud. They heard you. They were going to see you. You had to get away.

You made a break for it.

"There!" A shout behind you.

You ran faster than you ever thought you could. Dashing through streets. People were just blurs as you dodged everything in your way. Don't pay attention to anything, only run.

Unfortunately, even your fastest was not enough for a trained Fatui. Sooner or later one caught your wrist. You nearly fell backwards from the force. Another hand secured itself around your free wrist.

No.

You could barely hear when they said your full name. "You are in debt to the Fatui of Sneznaya and have refused to pay your dues."

No.

"You will be brought in where the amount will be forcibly taken from you, including any interest you've incurred."

"Let me go." It was a raw cry from your throat

You jerked and shook your arms violently. Trying to get out of their grasp. Your eyes burned. You screamed. You weren't even sure what you said. What you screamed for. For help? For them to release you? All of it was in vain as they dragged your flailing, then limp, trembling body away.

The ground was cold and hard. Your knees hurt, but standing up or drawing any attention to yourself would be a grave mistake. One man, of higher rank, made a quick trade of words with a tall, dark hooded man.

You stared at the patterns in the floor and tried to block out their conversation. But you knew exactly what they were talking about.

A heavy click of boots caught your attention and you instinctively looked up. You somehow felt the urge to sink deeper into the floor. You once heard that someone of true authority, benevolent or tyrannical, can be identified simply by the air of his or her presence.

The manner of his walk and the way he carried himself told you everything you needed to know. His clothing choice was similar to that of Inazuman attire and a large hat adorned his head. A hat that would have looked ridiculous on anyone else, but for him, it only made him feel larger. And you were small.

You turned your gaze back down. Trying to make yourself as small as possible.

His footsteps stopped by the man.

"What's this?"

The man with the clipboard turned, stumbled back, and quickly bowed.

"Scaramouche. Someone has failed to pay their debt. This one has nowhere near enough mora to pay it off, and after scouring through their place of residence, it has been determined that selling everything will not pay for it off either."

You stared down, but you could feel his eyes on you.

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

"I have a way this one can pay," Scaramouche said.

You froze.

"I have need for a servant," he continued.

Your eyes stayed locked on the ground. The click of his boots approached you, then stopped. Silently demanding you acknowledge him. You tentatively looked up. He stared down at you coldly.

"You will be my servant in order to pay off your debt to the Fatui. You will continue to be my servant and follow every command until your debt is paid in full, including any interest gained before and after today." His eyes narrowed. "Understood?"

You nodded before you even fully realized what you were agreeing to. But it was bold to assume you had a choice.

You did your best to forget you were indentured to the Fatui, specifically one of the Harbingers. Somedays, while you cleaned, you tried to pretend you had been hired for a well paying job from wealthy people. In another timeline where you were able to start your life over again.

You were tempted to compare how much you earned each hour with the remainder of your debt plus the interest. To try to calculate when you would be free. But you had the feeling that doing so would only make you feel worse.

You eventually got the hang of your various tasks. The memory of Scaramouche's reaction when you would perform a task wrong was shoved into the recesses of your brain where you prayed it would fade.

You hoped that as you got better, became more precise, he would leave you alone. It worked. For a time. But you began to notice that he would have you accompany him more. How his eyes would linger. You couldn’t say how this made you feel even if you wanted. Then again, you felt numb and apathetic to most things now. Had they managed to steal away your emotions too?

Once again, he had been called away for an assignment, and he decided to take you along. The both of you currently occupied his private sitting room. One door away from his temporary chambers.

He sat on the couch while rubbing his temples. Yet still his entire body was tense. You stood stiff as a board. Perfect and awaiting his orders if he chose to give you one.

"You."

You somehow tensed up further. "Yes, sir?"

"Come here." He waved a finger. He relaxed into his seat.

You didn’t dare disobey. A fear settled in your mind that you did something wrong and were about to face retribution. But the master's expression didn't convey anger. You stepped closer.

He looked you up and down, lazily inspecting you. "I need a favor." It wasn't a request, it was an order. "I’ve spent the past two days dealing with idiots," he rolled his eyes, "and if I don't find a way to relax I may do something unpleasant.”

You shift your feet. You were tempted to ask how you could possibly help, but at this point you've learned it was better to wait for him to tell you that. Least you face his wrath.

"Kneel."

You did as you were told. With a smirk, he began to rustle with his pants. Your heart leaped into your throat and your blood went cold as you put two and two together. These fears were only confirmed when he did pull out his cock. You glanced up at him. He gave a look that told you exactly what he meant. Your eyes widen.

"What are you waiting for? Service me."

With nothing else to do, you cautiously wrap your lips around him. The taste hit your tongue and your face scrunched.

Slowly took him in. Praying to any god who would listen that he would get bored and not make you take all of him in. But even in that moment you knew it was in vain.

He leaned back. The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

In fear he would shove you down if you didn’t, you bobbed your head faster. Avoiding his gaze all the while. Your chest tightened. You needed to breathe, but even that was hard to do. Your eyes stung.

Just keep going.

The tip hit the back of your throat. Your stomach lurched and you did everything to keep from gagging. And failed. You cough and choke around him and pull away. The string of saliva that connected you together still didn't make that feeling in your stomach any better. You wiped your mouth while coughing and trying to recover.

Suddenly you froze when you heard the tapping of his foot. You nearly jolt each time it shatters the silence in the lonely room.

"I'm waiting."

The edge in his voice cut into you. You moved back despite your shaking. Your chest still heaved with your lungs filling and emptying the next second. You suddenly felt too warm and cold.

You closed your eyes. Pretended you were somewhere else.

Put it in your mouth. Hallowed out your cheeks. Bobbing your head.

"Relax," his hand was on your head, "your throat."

You did everything you could to obey. You breathed deeply when you could. You forced the tension away. It surprised you when your entire body loosened. But it shouldn't have.

It filled your mouth until your jaw ached. Your throat spasmed around him, trying desperately not to choke. Trying to bob, and suck, and slide your tongue. All the while he yanked your hair any time you forgot one. The salty taste was too much. But the hand keeping your head in place was stronger. Plus, you couldn’t disobey. Spit dribbled out of your mouth.

Just keep going.

Keep abusing your mouth for his sake. You knew your lips would be puffy later, your jaw would hurt, and you'd have to wonder if your throat was raw or if you had throat cancer.

His hips jerked forward. He pushed down on the back of your head. Making you go faster. Too fast. There was no way you wouldn't be bruised. You weren't even moving forward anymore. Luckily he was too caught up in the moment to notice.

Your nose kept colliding with his skin. The he held you in place. Your felt something shoot down your throat. Panic crawled up, but you forced yourself to calm. Panicking would only make it worse.

He groans and his hips shudder. His fingers dig into your head. He held you there. While you struggled to get it down.

Finally he lets go. You fall back. Frantically, subconsciously trying to get away. You gulped down large breaths of air. It took you a second to notice the way he was smiling at you.

His hand rested on his chin. His head tilted with only one finger holding it up.

"Not bad," there was a strange smile in his voice you never heard before. "I may have to make you do that more often."

You would never escape, would you?

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #scaramouche x reader #tw:noncon #genshin smut #smut

[cosmica-galaxy]

Okay. Clarification time.

Regarding the concern for Smols situation, I will state MY point of view regarding this little hiccup now that Turtleduck deactivated so suddenly. Just to help settle some confusion or worries some people have for what may have happened.

So, what happened?

Basically, Turtleduck was asked by Smol if they were upset with the wars going around on our blogs, which started this little hiccup.

Please keep this in mind for a little bit later.

So Turtleduck stated that they don't like to see the fighting going around the blogs. Aight, that's fair. Not everyone cared about the DILF/MILF wars and that's totally fine!

However.

It was this comment that followed this conversation that probably snagged things a little bit.

(Yes. I blocked out turtleduck's profile to prevent their identity from being leaked as I consulted a friend for a comment to double check if I was be a little miffed for no reason or not.) As you can see, the last sentence is worded pretty poorly. This came off to me as "I want ruin people's fun so that they can go back to entertaining me". Even if that was not the intention, the comment painted a really rude and entitled picture on turtleduck. Even my friend that I consulted for an outside eye on this comment spoke about how rude the comment was toward the end and how even they felt like they were self-serving in a way. Not only that--

--Even STRUX felt that it was rude. This is why Strux is saying this in the original post.

Another thing to keep in mind is that, while Turtleduck claimed to have not liked our blog battles (which would've been find on it's own), they were actively ENCOURAGING blog battles.

I'm pretty sure a lot of my moots got THIS same message.

They sent it to multiple large skibidi blogs (strider, strux, another dead, ect.) in some hope that we would all jump on coolbeardrunaway with smol bottles. But my question is, if you are against blog battles...why are you actively encouraging them?

That's a little hypocritical, right? In short, I got the same ask and I didn't respond to it because I saw the previous message and was a little miffed.

Nothing overtly major happened. It was just a series of poorly communicated comments that rubbed a fair bit of us the wrong way.

Wait, is THIS the whole reason for this hiccup?

As far as I know, yeah. If anything was said otherwise, I have no knowledge of it. But it was mostly because of that second comment that lots of brows got raised and Smols became upset. Smols is doing fine, by the way! Don't worry! But why did Turtleduck deactivate their account??

I have no clue.

This isn't some scalding hot tea, it's barely lukewarm at best. This isn't some large scale drama either, its just someone being a little too honest with their intentions and desires.

Does this make turtleduck a villain?

Obviously no. I had no intention to hate nor despise turtleduck nor shame them. In short, us in this skibidi community are moots of moots and we entertain each other through these "wars" for both interaction and fun. We share art, stories, characters, ideas, ect. We love doing these with each other and sorry if that is not what followers came here for, but I'm not going to apologize for having fun with my Tumblr friends. I am not being chained up and made to be your source of "content" and entertainment. I, like all of my skibidi moots, are people with lives and interests. We don't live on this platform to serve and entertain you. Don't insult artists when they give you everything they can for absolutely free. Treating us with basic respect isn't that hard. If I had to say anything at all, I would have only have some parting advice for turtleduck. You are the type of person who makes group activities, roleplays, and fandom collabs not as fun as they can be. If your first reaction to seeing a bunch of people having fun in a community by sharing ideas and making art for one another is to throw a wrench into the works to make everyone pay attention to you and cater to your own personal interest...I can't blame Smols. I would've of blocked you too. That's all!

#haxorus imp #hax speaks #cosmica galaxy #cosmica-galaxy #skibidi tag #I can't stress enough how this isn't drama #I'm just making a statement for clarification

[blessyourhondahurley]

Suptober day 31 - This Bliss

A fluffy domestic day in the life of a happy, settled, married, post-hunter Dean Winchester and family.

Suptober prompt: Trick or Treat

(Read on AO3)

As the coffeemaker blurts out its last few brewing burbles, Dean snags the pot and pours himself a tall, fragrant cup. They've been experimenting with flavored blends recently, a project that Cas has gotten really into after Charlie sent him a gift basket of assorted coffees and teas for his “birthday” last month. Thanks to four decades of sludgy diner joe, Dean maintains pathologically low expectations for his morning cuppa, but he's finally comfortable enough in his masculinity to admit that the salted caramel spice variety they're drinking this week is fucking stellar, especially with a dash of cream. He adds that dash now, then shrugs and stirs in a little sugar as well. Why not treat himself?

There's a scuffle behind him, and he turns just in time to see Sam and Eileen stalking through the kitchen, arguing silently. He hasn't yet mastered the finer points of sign language, but somehow he catches “screwdriver”, “watermelon”, and “recycling bin” and decides not to inquire further. They disappear together through the door to the garage, still gesticulating furiously at each other.

Dean smiles at their backs and takes a seat at the kitchen table, He has another sip of his coffee and unlocks his phone. The villagers in his Animal Crossing town need his help with a fishing tournament today. He casts his line and waits.

“–en we'll ask Dean!!” is the only warning he gets before his kids burst into the room. Jack's in the lead, looking distressed. Claire is half a step behind, sporting the world-weary smirk she likes to wear like armor.

As soon as they're in front of him, they both start talking at once, and it's impossible to understand anything they're saying. Dean puts out his hands above the table, palms facing down, and lowers them slowly, a sign for calm down. Their voices trail off in perfect sync.

“Okay, let's try that again, only maybe this time actual communication can occur?” Dean points at his son. “Jacky, you go first.” Claire jolts, her mouth falling open like she wants to protest, but Dean turns his pointing finger upwards to indicate wait. “You'll get your turn, hon. I promise.”

“Claire says I'm too old to trick or treat tonight!” Jack says plaintively. “I'm only five!”

“Yeah but you look twenty-f–” his sister butts in.

Dean cuts her off with a barked “hey!” Mollified, she makes a zip-it gesture across her mouth, crosses her arms, and waits.

Jack continues. “Am I gonna get in trouble if I go out tonight? I don't want anyone to be mad at me! You and Dad said I could, though! My costume's all ready!!” He's giving the most puppiest of puppy-dog eyes, and as he finishes speaking his piece, a single perfect tear wells up and runs down his cheek.

Dean reaches for his son's hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Claire-bear?” he prompts.

“I just don't wanna see the kid get his hopes up for nothing,” she says grimly. “He doesn't exactly look like your average first grader. People don't take too kindly to grown-ass men tryin' to scam them out of their Kit-Kats.”

“I get it,” Dean acknowledges, giving her a nod.

At this apparent confirmation of Claire's point, Jack looks like his heart is crumbling to bits in his chest.

“Hang on now, buddy,” Dean continues before the kid can work himself up to a full-blown meltdown. “Your sister's just looking out for you. But she hasn't spent as much time in Lebanon as we have, so she doesn't know that everybody's gonna be expecting you at their houses tonight. I saw Marta at the post office the other day and she said to tell you she's got a jumbo-size 3 Musketeers with your name on it.”

Jack is smiling so wide now it looks like his face is gonna split in half. Dean turns to Claire. “In fact,” he says, eyebrows raised, “I'm absolutely certain no one would mind in the least if Jack brought his big sister out with him this year. Whaddaya say, kiddo? You wanna scam some Kit-Kats with us tonight?”

His daughter likes to think she's a hard-ass, a firmly closed book, but Dean watches the emotions play across her face as she tries and fails to suppress her excitement at the prospect. She's still adjusting to peacetime, to post-hunter life. They all are. He and Cas like to grab every opportunity they can find to let their kids be kids for a change.

Claire is still struggling to find the words that will simultaneously convey both I don't give a shit about anything because I'm a stone cold bitch and yes please please please take me trick or treating tonight but Jack doesn't bother waiting. He grabs his sister's hand and starts tugging her down the hall, free-associating ideas for her costume as they go.

As their voices fade from his hearing, he gets up to freshen his cooling coffee. While he's at the pot, he reaches into the cupboard overhead and pulls out Cas's favorite mug, the sky-blue one with the cartoon bees all over it. He's just tipping a dollop of cream into each cup when his husband shuffles in, looking rumpled and delectable in his bathrobe and ratty slippers.

Dean presses the warm mug into his seeking hand and wraps an arm around his waist.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says with a soft smile. He nuzzles Cas's extravagant bedhead and breathes in the warm smell of the skin behind his husband's ear.

“Good morning, beloved,” comes the rumbled reply. “What were the kids talking about? They seemed agitated about something.”

“Claire's gonna come out with us tonight. Jacky's helping her figure out her costume.”

Cas takes a deep drink of his coffee and hums happily. “That's nice.”

“Mm-hmm. She's super excited about it, but she'd never admit that. Gotta keep up the tough cookie facade.”

“She reminds me of you at that age,” Cas says with a grin.

Dean snorts a laugh. “Yeah, I was a tightly-wrapped little basket case back then. Closet case, too, I guess. Took me a lotta years to become who I really am.”

Cas finishes off his coffee and sets his mug on the counter, freeing his hands to pull his husband close. “Indeed,” he rumbles as he starts to trail a line of kisses up Dean's neck. “You've matured into an exemplary father, a wonderful husband, and a magnificent man. And on that note...” Cas's morning stubble rubbing against the thin skin of his throat gives him the shivery tingles, like it always does.

“On that note?” Dean prompts, his voice breathy and tremulous.

“The children will be occupied with their costumes for the next hour or two,” Cas observes. His hands move down to gently cup his husband's ass. “I think you should take me back to bed.”

Dean flashes back for a moment on all of those basket-case years when he was too scared, too exhausted, too repressed, too busy expecting to die at any minute to bother dreaming about a happily ever after for his story. He never could have imagined anything this good, anyway. Safe in his home, warm with the knowledge that his family is nearby, he walks hand in hand with the love of his life back to their room.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fluff #halloween #suptober23

[hgejfmw-hgejhsf]

Fic Writer Interview

So I decided to snag this from @sparklepocalypse and fill it out because I'm cozy on my couch on New Year's Eve and fighting off a nap like a grumpy toddler. I'm actually fairly certain I've done this one before, now that I think about it, but oh well. The numbers are different since last time, so...

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

60, apparently! 61 being posted later today!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 

178,579

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ghosts

Do we still have forever

Volume Control

Retaliation

Modification to the map of you

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I respond to each and every comment that I receive. I try very hard to leave a personalized message for each person, but no matter what, even if it's just a "thank you," I will always respond! Even if it takes me some time!

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

To this day, the angstiest ending is Darkest before the dawn, which ends with hope, even if it doesn't end with an actual resolution. It's during canon, so the reader know what happens next.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

I think my most recent Christmas fic, Oh what a laugh it would have been, has probably now overtaken one of my previous fics for overall happiest ending!

7. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't yet, but I'm absolutely open to it given the write parameters!

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I haven't yet, and I hope I never do, although I know that the internet can be a wild place.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

If you'd asked me back in July of this year, I would have said that I primarily write fade to black. Since then, I've written ridiculous amounts of smut. I'm still learning about various kinks I'd like to write about, because I don't want to just write without knowledge of the act itself, but I'm wading into the smut-verse now. I'd say the water's up to my knees, at this point. Got a ways to go.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, not that I've been made aware of, but I think it would be so neat.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't but catch me and @thinkof-england cowriting something amazing now that the new year has arrived.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

Y'all are gonna need to sit down for this. I don't think you're ready. Deep breath in. Hold it. Now let it out slowly. Calm your mind. Are you ready? Okay because I know this is going to come as a shock to you when I say that it's FirstPrince.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

A Star Trek fic with Jim Kirk x an OC. I started it back in the spring and then RWRB happened and now it's just languishing away in my docs at just shy of 18,000 words.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I've been told that I have realistic dialogue, so I'll count that as a strength. I also think I'm pretty skilled at metaphors. Love a good metaphor.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

The description of surroundings, including clothing and scenery. I feel like I don't do enough of this sometimes, and I'm trying to better at painting a proper picture.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I've done so! Lots and lots of research and consultation with native speakers to confirm accuracy.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Pirates of the Caribbean, apparently.

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

There isn't really one out there. I'm super content with the permanent campsite I've built in FP land. Hopefully I'm allowed to hang out there for quite some time.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

How am I supposed to pick a favorite out over 60 fics?!

I suppose if I absolutely HAD to pick right now, right this second, I'd say Ghosts, because the prompt for it as my first ever reader-submitted prompt on a comment from another fic. The reader enjoyed my fic so much that they asked if I'd write another, and Ghosts it what came of that interaction. I loved writing it and sharing it not just with that reader but with the fandom as a whole.

Gonna post my tag list for anyone who wants to participate!

@adreamareads @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @daisymae-12 @duchessdepolignaca03 @gayrootvegetable @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @heybuddy-drabbles @indomitable-love @indestructibleheart @inexplicablymine @kiwiana-writes @leaves-of-laurelin @leojfitz @littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @ninzied @priincebutt @read-and-write- @rockyroadkylers @roseharpermaxwell@ships-to-sail @songliili @ssmtskw @statueinthestonetoo @stereopticons @suseagull04 @thinkof-england @tintagel-or-cockleshells@user-anakin @vanillahigh00 @violetbaudelaire-quagmire @whimsymanaged @wordsofhoneydew 

#fic writer interview #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #rwrb fanfiction #my fics #my writing #my wips