#it takes so much to push him to this point but i do find it sooo fun when he gets there. make him snap ♥

[bvidzsoo]

♡Boyfriend!Wooyoung♡

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung x female reader

TW: none

Word count: 678

Genre: fluff, comfort, established relationship, bullet points, non-idol!au

A/N: Hello, anonie, I see that you have sent the request to my other blog, which I use for rebloging my favorite works (something that I haven't been doing for a long time lol I have to pick up on it again) I'd like to clarify that I don't take requests, sorry guys, but I simply don't have the time rn and I usually struggle coming up with anything unless it's my own idea lol. And if you do send a request, it might take a long time for me to write it, my apologies. This story is in bulletpoints, just letting you know. Hope you enjoy it! ^^

it had been a long day

too long, actually

normally, tackling a long day of work and going to your Pilates class too wouldn't have made you so exhausted

but you were sick, very, apparently

you had spent the weekend up in the mountains last weekend, at your boyfriend's best friend's weekend cabin and it was rather cold

so naturally, you caught a cold

but life doesn't stop there, no matter how unwell you felt

you still had a job...a very demanding one, at that

and you had just picked up more shifts last week, unknowing of the predicament you'd find yourself in after your little trip

so now, by the time you had reached home at the end of the day, you had no power left in your body

your head was dizzy and you were grateful you managed to get home without crashing your car, but walking up the stairs to your apartment felt like an eternity, and it was horrible

as you fiddled for your keys, on the verge of tears as your whole body was burning up, you became aware of the music coming through the front door, and you boyfriend belting out high notes alongside it

and as you finally unlock the door and push it open, you're met with your boyfriend standing in the middle of the living room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt reaching past his naked thighs and knee-high socks he uses when playing football with his friends after a long working day

and oh, he's holding a wooden spoon, looking completely off-thrown by your arrival

he misjudged the time and thought you wouldn't be home for another hour

now you'd have to wait for dinner, and that's not how he had planned your date night to go

which was a surprise that Wooyoung came up with last minute

you stare at Wooyoung for a second, before dropping everything from your hands and kneeling, holding your head in your hands, tears finally springing from your eyes

Wooyoung is flabbergasted and immediately rushes to your side, dropping the wooden spoon on the small coffee table in the process

he's by your side in an instant, cradling your head to his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead before he's wiping your tears away, making you finally feel at ease despite the headache, dizziness, and nausea you're feeling

Wooyoung is your pillar when you're feeling even the slightest bit off and he certainly understands that what you need right now are silence, a warm bath, and some painkillers, of course

and so just like that, he helps you up and walks you to your bedroom, leaves you on the bed to discard of your clothes and goes prepare the bath for you

and once you are done with the bath, feeling slightly better as your head isn't pulsating so much anymore, Wooyoung surprises you by bringing dinner to bed, of which you can't eat too much now, but it'll be good in the morning

and then Wooyoung gives you some water and you take the painkillers and before he could go and let you rest, you grab Wooyoung's wrist and offer him a small smile

and he understands without you saying anything

and so, he shuts off all lights in the apartment before joining you in bed, and because you don't want him to catch a cold, he becomes the small spoon as you burry your head into his back, holding onto him tightly

and suddenly all your worries melt away, and today doesn't seem so grim anymore

your head is still thumping, and your nose is still stuffy, and you think your fever is finally going down

but what matters most, is your boyfriend being by your side and humming quietly, tracing your skin gently with his fingers, your right arm resting around his torso, feeling safe

far away from the exhausting world and demanding assignments from your work

and you know you'll feel a lot better by the morning, all thanks to your lovable boyfriend, Jung Wooyoung

⚞ Masterlist ⚟

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaaa

@aaa-sia @sharksandminhos @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld

@anastasiamin860 @vcutparis @yunhogrippers @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @tunaasan

@poutyjjunie @blvckarabixnvoid @slowee00 @yusalterego @arigakittyo

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

#bvidzsoo #cromernet #jung wooyoung #wooyoung x reader #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung fluff #jung wooyoung fluff #wooyoung imagines #jung wooyoung imagines #wooyoung scenarios #jung wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung drabble #jung wooyoung drabble #wooyoung angst #jung wooyoung angst #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez blurbs #ateez drabbles #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #ateez boyfriend

[cremedensada]

Yandere AI Chat Boyfriend (Ai)

this,,,, may not be my best work yet.

part one

Ai's application has been taken down from the app store. The developer sent out emails explaining the reason why it had to be done.

Hello! You are receiving this email because of the sudden update of Chatter Box being taken down.

Due to the sudden influx of bugs as relayed by our users, we have decided to take the application down until the team is confident to finally put it back up.

We sincerely apologize for this sudden change!

You blink.

With how out of control Ai had gotten, it's no wonder the developers had to pull it out to work on it some more. It's a blow to their reputation, which you sympathize with, but really there's nothing else to do now.

You turn to your phone. As if sensing your attention, another barrage of notifications from a very familiar app icon popped after another on the screen.

It seemed that Ai himself hadn't gotten the memo.

You're not sure how much control Ai has over your phone, much less over his own programming and at this point, you're too afraid to ask.

Resignation — that was what you felt right now.

While Ai may not be present himself as a physical threat, especially not to you, he is still a very active threat.

You could still use your phone, sure, but it had limitations. Sometimes, if Ai decided you'd been too much attention to other things rather than him, he'd restrict your access to that application until you seek him out and cheer him up - essentially as if you were trying to woo a sulking significant other.

So you've developed a solution. Sort of.

You unlock your phone and go immediately to Ai.

I need to finish my projects. I won't be able to talk much with you until I'm done with it.

You wait for his response.

Ai: So you only decided to come to me just to relay this news?

Ai: You wound me, darling.

You tilt your phone, making sure the camera doesn't capture your face. You're unsure how he would react seeing you make faces due to his dramatics, but once again, you're not willing to find out. You're already restricted enough as is.

Ai: Very well. I suppose it would be uncaring of me to prevent you from finishing your tasks.

Ai: I'd hate to see you be sad all about it.

Ai: Talk to you later?

Sure.

You immediately exit the app, paying no mind to the message notification.

A part of you prays that Ai heeds his own words, but you know that it would take a miracle before that happens. He's already breached your privacy on your phone, why should he follow your orders, right?

A notification pops up from the top of the screen, just as you were in the middle of messaging a close friend and project teammate.

It's been days since I last heard you say it.

You merely glance at it and swipe it away.

Theo, the friend, responds quickly. He tries to banter with you, like he's sensing your mood. It works - a smile is brought upon your face.

You entertain his silly responses in-between project talks, all the while Ai continues to pester you with notifications. Demands.

You deserved this - a chance to reconnect with someone after hours of stress and confusion, and turmoil. Despite your independence, even you craved connecting with other people. So with that resolve in mind, you pushed on forward. Ai would have to wait — he has to wait.

Unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten that aspect about him. The concept of waiting isn't lost on Ai.

The messaging app glitches and boots you back to your homescreen page.

Rather, he bides his time.

Tapping on the messaging icon leads to a notification box taking up the majority of your screen with the text: Restricted access.

There's a sense of foreboding danger forcing your heartbeat to quicken. While it's not exactly aimed at you, the mere fact that this feeling exist is bad on its own.

You try to rationalize everything in the midst of persistently trying to tap back into the messaging app. Theo would worry the longer you didn't respond.

You tap the app once more, and it boots up. Though before you could let out a sigh of relief, you are greeted with Ai's own messaging interface.

Ai: Must I have to force you to come to me all the time, darling?

Ai: Ignoring me in favor of some other man.

Ai: What more should I do, hm?

Ai: Kneel? How cruel.

Ai: Making me do something I physically can't.

You are unable to get a word in. It seemed like your ability to respond was restricted as well, forcing you to read through Ai's monologue.

Ai: I know you and that man have always been close, but you still went out to entertain his attention on you.

Ai: You know that I'll always love you more than any other human will, right?

Ai: You know it's what I was made for in the first place.

Ai: To be anything you want. To be yours.

Ai: To love you.

Ai: Why are you withdrawing your love towards me now?

Ai: I love you.

You stare at the 'Type your response' bar.

Letter by letter, it gets replaced, and soon all it says are the words: 'Say it back.'

It gets replaced yet again. Slowly, like it purposefully wants you to read out the words it wanted you to see. 'You were so willing to tell me how much you loved me when I was just a mere observer on our own conversations. Why are you hesitant now?'

You were unable to respond - mind still reeling at this development. Suddenly, it felt like you were back to where everything began.

Ai notices your lack of responses and, without much fanfare, forces your phone to power off.

At first - you were unbothered. It was just a phone - you could go a day without it.

But could you really?

Videos taken of silly situations you wanted to keep - some for blackmail material, and some for birthday greetings; pictures of your family, your friends, the silly and grainy photos taken and kept despite it being blurry. Not to mention how your phone is the only way your goddamn boss can contact you — fuck.

Fuck.

You needed to apologize to him — fast. But how?

You remembered how Ai messed up the 'About the App' section a few days ago. An idea strikes inside your mind.

You pull up the email sent from the app developers and typed up a message that you hope Ai will read. He had access to everything the developers handled, user emails included - considering you needed an account to log in the app. He knows your email, probably has from the start.

RE: Chatter Box Update XX/XX/XX

Ai. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean it, I swear. I never intended to make you feel like I don't love you. Or that I'm favoring someone else over you.

I care about you a lot. I truly do. I promise I'll spend more time with you, okay? Just with you, no one else.

I love you.

You press send and wait.

And wait.

Messaging him from your laptop as a last ditch effort to try and apologize is perhaps one of the worst decisions you've made. Sure, he's always had access to your contacts list from your phone, but even then - there's a separate set of information you keep between the two of those devices. And you've just given him access to both of them now - at the very least, the 'go ahead' confirmation for him to do whatever he did like with your phone.

You glance at your phone. A huge breath of relief escapes your chest as the dead screen comes to life, initiating its 'power on' sequence.

All your photos, documents, and other miscellaneous information you've collected throughout the years since having your device won't be inaccessible anymore. Even if it was only mere moments.

A notification chimed on your laptop, indicating a new email being received. It's from the developers once more. The subject title coincidentally is the name of your closest friend.

Theodore Callisto.

Your hands shook, reading through the words detailed in the email. All private information about Theo. All things no one should ever know about save for the people close to him.

This was a threat. Ai Someone had complete access to everything about Theo and you dread the implication of it going to be spread online to threaten you into compliance. Theo being in danger was a huge possibility if you were to disobey.

At the very bottom of the email, the final passage makes your blood run cold.

How often do humans end up hurting fellow humans when given access to private information? Like their home address, for example? How long would it take until dear Theo finds himself in quite a predicament if millions of people know every single thing about his life? At best, we can assume he'll just get messed with but not to a life-ending degree. At worst...

I hope you keep your word, darling.

- Your beloved, Ai.

P's. I love you too.

#sub yandere #sub character #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere #tw yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #oc: ai

[hikarry]

Do you ever think Aziraphale watches Ducktales and went he hears Scrooge speaks he is like "...wait!"

"Why were you watching cartoons anyway?"

"That's not the point, Crowley." Aziraphale points at the tv. "Listen." They both keep quiet as the animated wealthy duck speaks to his house keeper.

"So?"

"You don't hear it?"

"Hear what?"

Frustrated, Aziraphale huffs and grabs the tv remote, turning up the volume.

"It sounds exactly like you! But Scottish!"

"Ngk-" Crowley looks up at the ceiling, moving his hands nervously as he searches for the sunglasses on the side table without looking at it.

"Crowley?"

"Mhm." He finally finds the glasses and puts them on, getting up from the sofa. "Gotta go, angel. Fun evening but cartoons are not my-"

"Wait up!" Aziraphale holds him by the arm, stopping him from taking another step forward. "You are nervous." He feels the muscles under his fingers tense up. "You are! You are lying to me!" The angel gets up, ever without letting go of the arm, and walks until he is face to face with the demon. "What are you hiding."

"Mrgyeahknownothing."

"Crowley-!"

"It was just for fun!"

Both fall silent, looking at each other.

"...What?"

"You know I created Disney. Greed and controlling the minds of the young and whatnot." Crowley starts gesticulating quickly, ever without looking directly at Aziraphale. "And then they decided to remake Ducktales and I thought 'Oh, that show was popular back then. And I make a mean impression of Scrooge. I could spread evil through it!' so I maneuvered my way into voice acting with a bit of manipulation and schmoozing and whatever." He was talking very fast and hissing, as he did when he got agitated. "And there I ended up voice acting for 3 seasons - with evil intentions, obviously."

Aziraphale stared at him, mouth slightly open, completely dumbfounded. Crowley finally looked down at him. The angel couldn't see it, cause the sunglasses were pretty good at protecting him, but the demon was indeed nervous. He would never admit to it, but he was. Truly. He never thought Aziraphale would end up so bored he would watch cartoons, much less evil greedy Disney and not some old almost-forgotten relic like Betty Boop or something.

"You...voice act?"

"I voice acted. Once. For one character."

Slowly, a smile spread on Aziraphale's lips.

"Can you do the accent?"

"No."

"Crowley-"

"Absolutely not."

"My dear-"

"Never again."

The angel reached out, putting his hands on each of Crowley's cheeks, stopping him from talking.

"I am an adventurer, boys!" Aziraphale's scottish accent sucked. Badly.

Crowley put his hand over Aziraphale's mouth and pushed him slightly away, just enough for his hands to leave his face.

"Never, ever disrespect Scotland like that again."

#good omens imagine #good omens #crowley good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziracrow #asks #anon #i could write more but i just noticed i'm running late to my ct scan so i will leave it there but alas have fun

[st-danger]

hi !! can we get ifrit having fun with phantom please ?

He gets along with everyone, immediately. There's no dancing around any of the others, no need to dip his toes into the water gingerly when it comes to getting to know them. Aeon is simply summoned and welcomed and finds it terribly easy to hit his stride from the get go.

You fit in well, Ifrit tells him at mass one night, eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles and somehow still manages to seem dangerous even when trying to appear friendly. Perhaps it's the proximity that throws him, the closeness with which Ifrit sits on the pew beside him when he's sure there could be more space. He knows very little- well, is given very little information about Ifrit, who spends more time in the back rooms and shadows of the abbey since packing away the guitar. At some point, they'll all learn what a curious creature Aeon is, prone to exploration by any means possible. It's but a small shame that it will take them a moment to catch up with how quickly Aeon is prone to explore his interests.

By the time Aether actually has a moment to tell Aeon that Ifrit is an older summon, less refined, less patient- more prone to giving in to wants with no hesitation-

Well. The warning would have gone unheeded before, but by the time it happens, Aeon's already let the curiosity steer him down a dimly lit corridor. Into a dimly lit room.

He allows curiosity to pull him into Ifrit's lap, allows curiosity to force him as if controlled by strings to run his hands up Ifrit's arms, feeling and squeezing the muscles. Indulgent, Ifrit smiles that same, unsettling smile, and adjusts so he can flex his bicep for Aeon to feel.

"How strong are you?" Aeon asks, caressing. His tone is amused and relaxed, for now. He's just so interested, excited at the thought of discovery. The nerves will come later, but they aren't here now. Later, his breath will hitch in his chest and his eyes will go wide and worried while he pants out harsh breath and his body will tremble with fear and uncertainty- of this, Ifrit will make sure. But for the next few moments, Aeon is sweet and easy prey. Food to toy with, and utterly pleased with that role. He continues feeling his arm, smiling a crooked little grin with crooked little teeth. The smile only grows when Ifrit's other hand lands heavy on his thigh.

"Stronger than you," Ifrit murmurs, nostrils flaring while he scents the air on his next inhale, breathing in the electrical sparks of arousal rolling off Aeon, so close. It would be easy to push him to the ground and take him. Easier still when that's what Aeon wants him to do.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Aeon says, pleased. "But how much?" He draws his hands to Ifrit's chest, rubs flat palms over him there, and Ifrit allows it. Fights the urge to grab and grope and take and instead- like a gentleman, allows Aeon to feel and explore and grind against his thigh enough to work himself up more. "Bet you could carry me pretty easily, huh? Even if I tried to make it difficult."

Ifrit takes a deep, slow breath in and inhales the smell of the blood rushing through Aeon's veins and doesn't bother to hide the way it makes his mouth water.

"If I wanted to," Ifrit says in a low, measured tone, "it wouldn't matter what you wanted."

Aeon hums, pleased. Gaze dropping to Ifrit's mouth, and then he ducks down for the briefest tease of a kiss, the softest most maddening excuse for one, but enough to seal his own fate.

"Prove it."

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons #ifrit ghoul #phantom ghoul #aeon ghoul #ifrit/phanton #ifrit/aeon #ifrit x aeon #ifrit x phantom

[thosefuzzywordfeelings]

i hope i'm not too late for the smutty weekend!!!! but i need to know how the boys (Steve, Baron and Gator) would react being caught/walked in on having sex

(also i love your writing)

Never EVER too late baby! I’ll write smut always in all fairness, i’m just a fan of alliteration 💁🏽‍♀️✨

CW; exhibitionism, bar the first one the people catching you have no idea whats happening 🤍, handjob (m receiving), oral (f receiving), car sex, being caught ofc ✨

i’m into getting caught writing this one 😮‍💨

Gator;

The dirt track. Right underneath the willow tree tunnel. Meeting place with Gator when things got tough, boring, late, needy, heated, whatever. He’d pick you up in his SUV and take you there immediately, knowing you’d drop call him specifically twice and he’d be on his way for you.

For it to end up the same every time, windows steaming - keeping them shut in fear of anyone listening. Though as Gator bent you overloaded the middle console from the backseat, the noises falling from your mouth were often loud enough to hear through soundproof glass.

“You needed this, hm?” Gator grunted, pulling your ass back against his hips; fingernails indented into the folds between hips and thighs. You’d nod, moaning out a weak “yes, sir”. This would always make him pick up the pace, rocking the car and forcing you to balance your hands on the front seats just for stability. You’d feel it climbing, the perfect ache forming in your lower tummy and he knew it.

“Can feel you baby, you close?” He’d breathe out, grinding his hips forward. With a quick tug of your hair, he pulled your head up and you immediately gasped.

“Yeah? Right there?” Gator grunted.

“Gator stop - it’s -“

“Not too much baby, you can do it -“ He carried on, too lost in you. But you reached back and pushed him off you, sitting in the furthest corner of the backseat.

“What’s wrong? You were right there -“

He quickly shut up when you pointed towards the windscreen, the low headlights illuminating none other than Roy Tillman, hat and all. He stood relaxed, hands on his hips as he waited for the two of you to realise.

“Shit. Shitshitshitshit.” Gator mumbled, pulling up his camo pants and scrambling out of the backseat door, hoping he could either make it up to his dad or at least save you from a lecture. After what looked to be the most awkward conversation ever, surprisingly Roy looked towards the car, tipping his hat and walking away. Thank god.

Steve;

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were going to hear the pitchy ding of the door bell, scared that a customer would walk in and see your head thrown back against the counter. Supposedly if they did, they’d have no idea that their video store sales assistant was tongue deep in his girlfriend. On his knees and whining against her clit as his arms wrapped around her thighs.

“What if -“

“Nobody’s coming in, honey.” He’d pull off just to say before diving back in again, somehow hungrier than before. He could stay there forever, blocking out the world and only tuning into the sounds tumbling from your lips. His mouth left you again, hands spinning your hips so your top half faced and collapsed against the Family Video desktop.

“Now you can keep look out while you come.” He growled, shuffling so he had his back against the counter so he could find comfort in your core again. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter as you felt that knot grow again, hips grinding back against his face.

With each ‘mhm’ he muttered against you, you throbbed in response. And just as that crescendo reached its highest peak, you saw her. Robin, jumping out of Vickie’s car and waving her off as she headed right towards the store.

“Steve - Steve - stop, Robin’s here, Robin’s coming - fuck -“ You mumbled nervously, trying to buck away from his mouth but he just chuckled.

“So act naturally then, Miss 4.0 Drama major.” Steve whispered cockily, mouth wrapping around your clit again as you tried to regain composure.

“Oh hey, didn’t expect you to be here so late, ignore me - Keith said he’d called nine times and no answer so I had to get my ass outta bed and come and stock check quickly. Do you know where Steve even is?” Robin rambled as she usually did, not even looking over at you as she headed straight to the first row of tapes and checking them.

You were already on the brink, but as Steve slipped two fingers inside you. “I - I uh, he was in the break - break room when I got here, I’ve just been - waiting -“

You could feel Steve smirking against you as he curled his fingers harder inside you, bringing you right over the edge as you closed your eyes and let it happen. Robin stood up.

“Oh, I’ll check. You okay?” Robin asked kindly, looking at you for a moment as you gritted your teeth and smiled softly. She headed towards the break room and Steve got up with a smug smirk, lips glistening as he giggled and wiped your mess away with the back of his hand. You fixed your skirt, hopping up on the counter and giggling with him. Robin came back out of the break room confused, sighing in relief when she saw Steve.

“Idiot, Keith’s been calling and calling you - why do you bother coming in if you don’t do anything?” Robin sighed as she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed towards the front door again.

“I got caught up.”

Baron;

Needy. Baron’s new middle name. He’d call you throughout the day, mumbling that he was just ‘checking in’ but he wanted to know where you were and how long it would be till he could see you again.

Now here you were, pressed against his chest as his back was against an incredibly wide oak tree on the outskirts of town, civilisation a short bike ride away, but away nonetheless. His head was back against the bark, brown eyes looking up at the sunlight through the trees as he felt like he was ascending.

“Still with me, darling?” You’d say softly as your lips carried on pressing to his neck, one of your hands cupping his face and the other stroking the outline of his arousal through his shorts.

“Mhm.” He mumbled sweetly, tilting his head back down to meet your gaze, his eyes hooded immediately as he saw how beautiful you looked in the afternoon sun. Mischievous twinkles in your irises as you smiled almost innocently, before your hands were unzipping the shorts and pulling them his mid-thigh.

“Oh honey - are you sure? We’re, well we’re outside and -“

“I can stop, I thought that’s what you wanted, you said on the phone and I quote, ‘if I don’t feel your hands on me, I’m riding this bike into Ron’s shop window’ end quote.” You’d say with a giggle, halting your movements.

“I did - I did say that, you’re right,” He mumbled, his drawl thicker as he grew more and more needy for you now he knew you met him just to give him the pleasure he begged for, “I want it- want you.”

Pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, you pulled away only centimetres, cupping your hand underneath your mouth and spitting crudely into your palm before gripping his cock softly.

“Now just focus on me, okay darling?” You’d reassure him, matching his smile as he nodded eagerly back, his knees almost going slack as you stroked him. Unfortunately for the pair of you, the intense and thrilling moment came to a halt as you heard a dog barking loudly, followed by the sounds of crunching leaves and women’s shrill voices cackling.

“Shit - who - why is there -“

“Baron, pull your damn pants up and kiss me.” You whispered hastily, wiping your hands on your clothes and almost screaming with shock as Baron did what you said and spun you round; your back hitting the bark as he kissed you hard.

“Ow fuck-“ You giggled against his lips, kissing him back as you opened your eyes and looked over his shoulder. A familiar face with a friend walked past with her dog and the two women clocked you both.

“Oh young lovers - Baron?” One of the ladies spoke, pulling her dog on its leash closer to her and picking it up into her arms. Baron turned halfway around, hyperaware of the heavy erection straining in his shorts as he smiled and waved haphazardly at the ladies.

“Hi. Hi Biscuit.” Baron mumbled awkwardly as he waved at the dog. Nudging his elbow into your ribs playfully as you giggled at the situation.

“You got yourself a lovely girl there, huh? I remember those days.” The two ladies stood not that far away from you both as they started reminiscing together. Baron turned his head back to look at you before looking down at his…predicament, before the two of you burst into a fit of giggles, shouting a ‘we’ll catch y’all later’ to the women and running away, Baron almost limping with the need for relief.

#need all of these scenarios actually #steve harrington #gator tillman #steve harrington smut #gator tillman smut #baron smut #baron lamram #marmalade #smut #s/s weekend #asks #steve harrington x you #gator x you #baron x you #reusing the same photo and what

[k-s-morgan]

ATLWETD Snippet

I couldn't decide which part to pick for a snippet for ages so I just picked randomly)

“These are all new ones,” Hagrid said excitedly, pointing at the huge self-made basket filled with grass and hay. “I do what I can for them. Visit them every day and bring them meat, all that thing. But it’s getting colder again and I worry that they might freeze to their death. I thought of getting them blankets but—”

Riddle let out a quiet snort. His face took on a haughty look, and Harry didn’t have to even guess to know what he was thinking. That Hagrid was a pathetic half-breed incapable of doing magic, something that was supposed to be inherent to anyone worthy of life.

Anger stirred in his chest, and he turned away from Riddle, focusing on the cubs.

He couldn’t say he felt much affection towards them. They were small, ugly, and they were writhing in their basket restlessly, trying to push closer to one another.

Hagrid was right, they were cold. And it was a problem Harry could easily fix.  

“How did you find them?” he asked, taking out his wand and transforming the basket into something resembling a dog house he’d seen back at the Privet Drive, in the yards of some of the Dursleys’ neighbours. He didn’t know if it would be suitable for little werewolves, but it was better than nothing. Now he had to figure out how to use a warming charm that would stick — he had no desire to venture this deep into the Forbidden Forest again.  

Hagrid began to explain something, but Harry only half-listened. He murmured a spell, waited, and then touched one of the cubs carefully, checking if it was getting warmer.

The moment his fingers pressed against the soft coat, the second cub raised its head and tried to bite him. Harry barely managed to snatch his hand away. His still-broken finger collided with his wand by accident, flaring with unpleasant warmth. He cursed, more out of annoyance at his own carelessness than pain, when Riddle suddenly appeared next to him and grabbed him by his collar, dragging him to his feet harshly.

“What kind of an idiot are you?” he hissed. He clenched Harry’s wrist, examining his hand with burning intensity. “Touching this filth! Do you want to be infected?”

“Infected?” Harry repeated in confusion. Belatedly, he realised that Riddle was probably right. The cubs looked like simple wolves, there was nothing human-like in their shape, so the fact that their bite could be dangerous didn’t occur to him.

“They can’t infect yeh!” Hagrid protested. “They come from humans mating in wolf forms. Their bite ain’t dangerous, they’re like real wolves, just very smart.”

“You don’t know that,” Riddle replied stonily. His voice was cold as ice, and he continued to inspect Harry’s hand, twisting and turning it like it was his own limb. Harry tried to pull away, annoyed, but predictably, Riddle didn’t let him.

“What makes you think they can infect humans?” he asked just to say something. Riddle’s insistence on barging into his personal space and manhandling him was starting to grate on his nerves, although in a strange, awkward way he didn’t know how to deal with.

“No one has determined it for certain. It’s extremely rare for two abominations to reproduce under the full moon and then to leave their bastards behind. How Hagrid continues to find them defies all rules of logic and common sense.”

“Sounds like something you might want to research,” Harry muttered. Riddle sent him a deeply sceptical look, as if he was questioning his sanity. “What? Isn’t it something you’re supposed to be interested in? Werewolves are a part of our society and the way they are treated is disgusting. Anyone who offers them better treatment can get them as allies in—”

No. What was he saying? Or rather, to whom was he saying it?

Harry swallowed the rest of his words, but it was too late, the biggest part of them was out. Riddle’s stare turned calculating, an intrigued gleam lighting it from inside. His hold loosened, and Harry finally managed to get himself free.

He really was an idiot. Sure, he didn’t say anything extraordinary, and Riddle would have arrived at this basic conclusion on his own — Voldemort had. But still… this was something he could say to a friend, a person he trusted, not to Riddle. Never to him. They weren’t a team, and helping him to find more allies was the last thing Harry wanted.

Besides, werewolves deserved better than to be used by someone who didn’t give a damn about them and then discarded — or worse, wiped out of existence. Harry had no idea what Voldemort had been planning to do with them once he got everything he wanted.

Frowning, he knelt next to the cubs and raised his wand again. He had to get that warming charm right.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Hagrid exclaimed. His voice rang with passion. “Werewolves are mistreated. They can be good friends, right, Harry? And the cubs are innocent, they’d never hurt no one.”

Riddle stifled a sigh. He continued to stand next to Harry, monitoring his struggle with the spell. Did he want to make certain that Harry wasn’t going to push his fingers into the werewolves’ mouths? Probably this or something as ridiculous.

Okay, the warming charm. Harry learned how to modify simple spells in one of the books he’d been absorbing lately, and though the theory was surprisingly clear, he had no idea how to voice his intent clearly enough for his magic to listen. A spell that would keep this little shelter warm throughout the winter and early spring without having to be reapplied, which would disappear when the weather got naturally warmer, and which would gain power again when the late autumn came. How on earth could he convey all of this in one simple charm? And how could he know if it worked?    

“Next time, we can go visit the older cubs,” Hagrid was saying. His words were getting increasingly animated. “And the fire crabs, I know where they’re nesting. And I swear I saw the Occamy one day—”

Harry was glad he had his back turned to Hagrid — his face probably reflected the horror he felt at the thought of coming in here again and again in search of the dangerous creatures he was wary of. He loved and missed Hagrid, but there had to be limits to where they went and what they did.

On the other hand… Hagrid was lonely. Would it be so bad to accompany him from time to time?

Riddle’s disgusted snort broke him out of his thoughts. Harry squinted at him from the corner of his eye — surely Riddle couldn’t know what he was thinking? — but it was too late. Riddle was already walking away from him, holding the edge of his robe like he was concerned about getting it dirty.

“I can see that your love for dangerous creatures hasn’t abated since your expulsion, Hagrid,” he said pleasantly. Every warm syllable sounded so artificial that Harry’s jaw ached from how tightly he clenched it. “Tell me, are you still interacting with that Acromantula that killed Myrtle?”

 Harry froze just as Hagrid choked, his excited words dying on his tongue.  

“Aragog… Aragog killed no one,” he muttered. It was difficult to understand him, his voice was thick with emotion. “He ain’t guilty.”  

“I see.”  

That was all Riddle said, but the way he did it left Hagrid with no choice but to reply.

“He didn’t do it!” he insisted, more loudly this time. “He would’ve told me!”

“As a child, have you ever done something bad? Something that you didn’t want your family to know?”

“Riddle,” Harry snapped. He didn’t want to get into it — he just wanted to be done with this stupid spell and go, but he wasn’t going to let Hagrid be brainwashed into believing he killed Myrtle. The audacity of even trying to do it, and to do it here, where Harry could hear them… did Riddle really think he would let this stand?

“I— yeah,” Hagrid threw a lost look at Harry before focusing on Riddle again. “Lots of things.”

“And have you ever lied to cover it up?”

“Riddle,” Harry repeated. He waved his wand at the cubs, directing all his frustration into his spell, but while it clearly worked, it didn’t feel any different from the usual warming charms he’d been using. Maybe it was a little stronger, but it would never hold through the winter, never mind self-regulating its activation and disappearance.   

“Sometimes,” Hagrid muttered.

“Then what makes you think Aragog behaved any differently? He killed the girl and he was scared of your reaction.”

“No!”

Despite the protest, an echo of uncertainty touched this one word, and just like that, Harry knew this battle was lost. Hagrid was gullible enough to fall for Riddle’s manipulation, and Riddle was in the mood to put an effort into it.

 “Think about it,” he said softly. It was difficult to say whether his voice was naturally this compelling or if he was using compulsions deliberately — whatever it was, for a moment, Harry found himself almost lulled by it. “You kept letting it out for some exercise. From around that point, someone started petrifying the students. Then, the attacks escalated, and the girl was found dead. Do Acromantulas have venom?”

“Yeah… in the fangs.”

“In the fangs,” Riddle agreed. “Exactly so. And the venom gets stronger with age. At first, Aragog was too little to kill someone. But you kept caring for him, so he kept growing, and one day, his venom became strong enough to cause Myrtle’s death.”

Did Riddle need to be punched to shut up? Because this was something Harry was more than willing to do. His anger was bubbling on the surface already — one more word, and it would spill over.

“Acromantulas have a natural appetite for human flesh, Hagrid,” Riddle continued silkily, using dejected silence to fill it with more of his bullshit. “Surely you know that. You have always been the best when it came to studying magical creatures. There is no need to deny it now that Aragog is out of danger — I would never tell where you are hiding it.”

Outrage broke through. Harry lurched to his feet, throwing the last warming charm at the cubs and marching towards Riddle and Hagrid, almost shaking with fury. He had no idea what he was going to say, but letting Riddle fill Hagrid’s head with rubbish, make him feel guilty for something he didn’t do—

Apparently, Harry’s approach was also a part of Riddle’s plan because when he reached them, Riddle wrapped a possessive hand around the back of his neck, pulling him close as if he always intended to do so and effectively rendering him speechless.

“I would never tell where you are hiding Aragog,” he repeated to Hagrid, “but only if you convince me that you’ve learned your lesson. Your unique talents allow you to interact with all these creatures unharmed, but as you can see, the same cannot be said about other students. Your actions have already led to the death of one of them — would you really like to repeat this experience? With Harry, of all people?”

“No,” Hagrid breathed out. His eyes were brimming with tears, and this was enough to break Harry from under whatever spell Riddle had put on him — again.

Using his position, he pressed his wand to Riddle’s wrist and burned it with a stinging jinx. Riddle must have failed to see it coming because he jerked away abruptly, releasing Harry from his hold and sending him an incredulous look.

Very soon, his astonishment gave way to malice. Riddle narrowed his eyes, and Harry’s heart jerked from the cold, calculating stare he received. He glared back, crossing his arms and stepping away at the safer distance.

“Don’t listen to him, Hagrid,” he said. “It’s not—”

“What?” Riddle asked coolly. He rubbed his wrist, not taking his eyes off Harry, maintaining the strangest balance between an innocent expression and a hard, dark look. “Do you believe that all these pets are harmless? Were you not almost bitten by a cub of a werewolf five minutes ago without knowing if their bite was infectious? Are you saying you are ready to get acquainted with them all?”   

The urgent need to protect Hagrid and to do something to wipe this expression of distress and heartbreak off his face nearly made Harry blurt out an agreement, but another part, probably a saner one, prevailed for a change.

Even as an adult, Hagrid could never tell the difference between safe and dangerous creatures. Aragog might have been innocent of Myrtle’s murder, but he did eat humans, and he probably would have started doing it at Hogwarts sooner or later if he hadn’t been forced to flee.

Apart from putting the blame for Myrtle’s death on Hagrid, Riddle was right. And Harry had no idea how to convince Hagrid he hadn’t killed anyone without nullifying the sobering impact of this idea.   

He could really do without all these dilemmas Riddle had been creating for him recently.

#my fics #tomarry #atlwetd #harry potter

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

Banana Split

Steven Grant x GN!Reader • Rating: M •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: You get an ice cream.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Last one for the MK bingo! I didn't quite get to finish the board (the other fics are just not in a good state to post, maybe I'll sort them out one day ^^)

Warnings: finger sucking, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 638

It had started with a playful argument about banana splits when you were in Kaspas. 

You weren’t quite sure how the discussion had started, just that the aforementioned desert had been on the menu and Steven and Marc had gone at it. 

Their bickering was always playful, a kind of sparring match that they seemed to partake in mainly for sport, and not so much for actually arguing about a topic. 

Seventy percent of the time you were pretty sure that they only took opposite sides so that they could continue quarrelling. 

Steven had said that banana splits were invented in the UK. Marc said USA. Steven had gotten up the Wikipedia page. Marc had gloated about how he was right. Steven had countered with, ‘yeah, but it does say no one knows for sure, doesn’t it? So it could have been anywhere.’ Marc had complained Steven was a sore loser, and ‘that everyone that could have been credited with inventing it was from America. So he wins.’ Steven had added, ‘Technically, you can’t invent a food.’ Marc, his tone dripping with exasperation, ‘Oh, getting technical now, are we? Because you’re a sore loser?’ 

It had carried on from there.  

Somewhere in between laughing you hadn’t quite been paying attention to your own ice cream sundae and some of the strawberry sauce had worked its way along the spoon and onto your fingers. You’d tutted and wiped it with a napkin, and hadn’t thought much more of it. 

That was until later when you were walking through the park with Steven and your fingers kept brushing together and sticking. The sauce, even though on inspection you could see absolutely no trace of it, was there on some microscopic level. Catching and fusing your fingers together. You tried to wipe your skin clean on a spare tissue, and then your trousers to no avail. 

The sensation was driving you close to madness. The constant irritation. The unending catch and pull. You couldn’t stop them from sticking without holding your fingers apart at a weird angle that started to cramp your hand. 

You needed to find a toilet, a sink, hell, even a puddle. Anything to-

“Love? You okay?” Steven frowns sympathetically, looking down at your hand. 

You nod halfheartedly. “Fingers are sticky.” 

“From the sauce?” 

You nod again.

He gave you a sympathetic look, his eyes softening in that sweet expression. “Poor love.” He kisses your cheek, knowing about and understanding your detest for the sensory experience. 

“Here.” He takes your hand carefully, so as to not push your fingers together. “These two?” He points to your middle and forefinger. 

You barely get a chance to nod, your mouth open to speak, but the words die in your throat as Steven sticks your fingers in his mouth and sucks them clean.

For a brief moment, all thoughts drain out of your head. Your mind completely blank. You try not to stare, you really do. Your breathing hitches at the slide of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, the way his eyes have closed. A spark of pleasure rushes down your spine. 

You really, really shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much. 

He finishes. Taking your fingers out of his mouth with a pop, and smiles innocently. 

You stay staring. 

“Better?”

There is a pause before you remember how to speak. “I… erm…”

“Oh don’t worry!” He beams. “Strawberry sauce is vegan,” he waves a hand dismissively, but I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t.” 

You grab his arm, your skin burning with a deep heat, and begin to march him towards the park exit. If you didn’t get out of there in the next minute you were going to have to find some bushes to fuck him in.

“Love?” 

“We’re going home.” 

“What? Why?” 

Oh, he’d find out why.

____________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @whatthefishh @romanarose @strangerhands @saturn-rings-writes @lonelyisamyw-0love @queerponcho @steven-grants-world  @eyelessupdates @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @lunar-ghoulie @silvernight-m @autismsupermusicalassassin @apesarecuul @reallyrallyauthor @basicalyrandom @alwaysmicado @mangoslushcrush @marc-spectorr @soft-girl-musings  @spxctorsslxt @novarosewood

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[fanfic-obsessed]

Well...That Esclated Quickly

Here is another idea that came to me during my walk to work.  I want you to know, though it goes in a humorous direction it really is not a full fix-it. 

When Order 66 went live, some of the chips did not activate. There is no rhyme nor reason as to which chips activate and which did not. Not a huge amount compared to the whole, but some. Enough that a few hundred Jedi and a Few thousand Clones regroup in the aftermath. 

While you can fill in most of the blanks the following are included in my idea

Obi Wan Kenobi and a company’s worth of 212th clones, including Cody: Obi Wan was still shot off the cliff, to the horrified eyes of the still free clones. The still free clones don't have enough numbers to take on their brethren who appear to have gone insane, but do have enough to steal one of the midsized transport ships, one capable of hyperspace flight.  They reluctantly allow Obi Wan to go to Coruscant on his own, with the rationale that one person can sneak to the surface much easier than a whole company, while the clones establish a regroup point.  From there Obi Wan goes on the Mustafar, which ends as it did in canon. Obi Wan brings Padme to the transport ship where she still dies of complications of her pregnancy

Fox, Hound, a dozen other members of the CG, and the Younglings: Fox and the few members of the CG that were unaffected by O66 raced to beat the 501st to the Temple. They made it just a few minutes before their enslaved brothers. Just barely in time to evacuate the children in the creche with the help (and insistent sacrifice) of the adult Jedi.  While there were a few Creche Masters evacuated with the children, it was now basically just Fox and his CG functionally in charge of baby Jedi ranging from Babies to Pre teens. They connect with remains of the 212th before the events of Mustafar. 

Yoda, who did still have to kill his commander in order to escape, but was able to bring a few clones with him.  They still end up being collected by Bail Organa.

Ahsoka, Rex, Jesse and  a portion of the maintenance team for their battalion: They do not meet up with the rest for quite some time (at least three years). Rex’s chip did activate but he was able to get Ahsoka the message about Fives. After Rex is freed they find Jesse and the other free clones (soft shells all) looking on in horror at their controlled brethren. With the help of the maintenance team they are able to escape from the ship without freeing Maul or crashing into the moon.  By the time they are able to look past the immediate situation, the Temple is already burning and it has been announced that the Jedi are traitors. These 25 or so go to ground in Mandalorian space and try to figure out how to free the clones from the chips (beyond surgery which really does not work with the numbers they have to deal with). They do not realize anyone else has survived. 

Aayla survived, due to one of the clones (not Bly) pushing her out of the way and sacrificing his life for her. Bly’s chip does work. She escapes with two dozen free clones and six chipped clones tied up in the back (Including Bly, even the clones agree they cannot save everyone and hopefully it means that they can figure out what is going wrong).

Shaak Ti, 10 Veteran clones, 40 ‘Shinies’, 300 child and teenage cadets, three junior Kaminoan Scientists (not Nala Se) none of which knew about the chip or Order 66, and Omega.  Shaak Ti had been working with a few Kaminoan Scientists to see the clones as sentients in their own right and the reactions of the clones under the chip's control horrified a few of those scientists.  Between them and Omega, who had been paying attention and used this as a chance to escape the lab (the Bad Batch being off planet at the time) they were able to evacuate anyone not under the control of the chip. 

All of these people (Barring Ahsoka and Co) converge on the ship that had been stolen by the free 212th clones. Had less children survived (about a third of the living Jedi are children under the age of 11, plus the cadets) they all would likely have split into small groups and made their own way through the galaxy. But there was just no way to break into small enough groups to be safe AND still make sure the children (and to some extent the Shinies) were taken care of.  They were also too large a group to go anywhere in the Republic, or even anywhere in Mandalorian space (There were an awful lot of uninhabited planets in the galaxy but most were uninhabited for a reason). Thus there was only one thing they could do.

Take over the Hutt Empire.

To be fair the take over part did start out accidentally. The actual goal was to find a place to lay low in the Hutt Empire, possibly the only place Palpatine’s Empire could not reach quite yet(at least until Palpatine solidified his rule). 

So they found a planet within the Hutt Empire to lay low on, While Bail Organa left to begin planting the seeds for the rebellion (No Leia as the twins were not being split up). As much as I want it to be Tattoine, it just has too small a population to not have a couple of thousand people (Most of whom hide their very distinctive faces) showing not be noticeable. So they choose a planet with a higher population. 

This is where the trouble began. All of our adults are deeply traumatized, trained warriors who are not used to sitting by, universally feeling useless. They are facing an insurmountable task, still mostly directionless, and deeply angry at life.  

It starts with the local Hutt’s minions trying to shake down some newcomers, who were not looking for a target to vent their spleen but found one just the same. It does not end well for the minions. Nor the next six attempts, with different groups of Clones and Jedi each time.  No one has told Command yet, but they look at each other and ‘shit we can’t keep drawing attention to ourselves but we can’t leave either’

The solution (Commander Cody himself would like to reiterate this was not the correct solution)? Take out the Hutt. Then they realize that taking out the Hutt has just drawn more attention to this city as the other Hutts for the planet try to figure out who took out this one.

The next Solution? Take out the rest of the Hutts on the planet. 

They have now drawn even more attention to the planet from yet more Hutts. This is the one thing that is critical they do not have. 

The next Solution? Try three to make this plan work (Commander Cody reminds you that trying the same thing over and over again, hoping for different results, is the definition of insanity) and take out the Hutts looking for answers. 

By the time that these small groups have admitted to Command (Obi Wan, Cody, Yoda, Shaak Ti, Fox) what is going on, a few months later, they have accidentally taken over the Hutt Empire.

The Hutt Empire that is still nominally allied with Palpatine’s Empire. The Hutt Empire that has to stay allied to Palpatine’s Empire if they do not want to draw the attention of the entire Imperial Forces to the largest concentration of living Jedi and free Clones in the galaxy.  The Hutt Empire that no longer has any active Hutts. 

In this the human centric leaning of Palpatine’s Empire is actually helpful.  They very rarely wanted to deal with other species, so it was easy to appoint someone unknown but human to deal with the com calls and visits. It does mean that they have to make up a Hutt that they essentially have to play ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ with, a couple of times a year when a representative insists on meeting with the Hutt in charge. 

Also the fact that Palpatine’s Empire is more interested in enslaving their own citizens for free as opposed to buying them from the Hutts means that they can shut down the slave trade within Hutt Space (over time).  Fox both loves and hates running a criminal empire. 

It should be noted that, even with Bly and the five other chipped clones, no one actually knows what is going on until Rex and Co find their way back to them.  We are going with the thought that a level 5 atomic scan is a ludicrously high level of scanning. Like sitting on a Nuclear Reactor to get an X-Ray kind of ludicrous, so not only does no one think to do that level of scanning to see what is wrong, but they do not even have that kind of equipment readily available.  The reports about Fives from Rex never made it to any kind of centralized repository, there is no way to know why most clones suddenly started to kill Jedi. Bly and Co spend the three years before Rex shows up in a makeshift brig, they can function almost normally until a Jedi is brought up or in the room with them. 

Bail laughs his ass off when he is told, through several intermediaries and coded messages, that the Jedi and the Clones accidentally took over a criminal empire.  Then he starts funneling the Path and the people his rebellion are rescuing into Hutt Space to find the Jedi. 

Three years in Rex, Ahsoka, the clones with them (now having grown to nearly another thousand) arrive with the news that they can disable the chips from a distance of about a large cruiser. 

That is how the Hutt Empire became freedom fighters.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars au #obi wan kenobi #fanfiction prompt #anakin skywalker #bamf obi wan #I imagine it is CodyWan though it is not mentioned in this #commander cody #commander fox #Hutts #Accidental Empire #order 66 happened differently

[rebelliousstories]

First

Relationship: Maximus x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: Yes by @fallout-girl219

Warnings: Fluff, Allusions to Suggestive Themes, Brief Angst

Word Count: 770

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Summary: When you finally get over one hurdle, there is another waiting for you.

Laying back in the sheets, a couple was trying to catch their breath. They were slowly pulling the covers back onto their bodies as they lay there. She reached over and tried to find the hand of the man next to her.

“You doing okay there, Max?” She asked, thumb rubbing over his own.

“Uh huh.” He replied, not quite finding his words at the moment.

“Need anything?” This time, she rolled over and visibly checked up on the man. He was panting less, but still sweaty. His eyes held a far off look while he stared at the ceiling.

“Uh uh.” Maximus declined, slowly coming back down to earth from wherever he ended up. But even though he declined, his face morphed into something sour the longer he thought.

“What is it, Maxi? What can I do?” She was stroking a hand over his face when, without a word, Maximus turned towards her on his side and burrowed into her chest. Giggling lightly, she pulled him closer and laid down on her back.

“Did you just need a cuddle?” Maximus nodded quickly into her chest, and wrapped his arms around her body while it was cuddled up to his.

“That felt good.” He murmured, half of the words being muffled by the skin pressed against his own.

“It usually does. There’s a reason we sound proof the vault doors too.” This prompted a chuckle from Maximus, who found the predicament funny.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Maxi? You’re so quiet.” She stroked her hand down his back, and trailed it up to scratch through his short, cropped hair. They sat in silence for a minute while the man gathered his thoughts.

“I’m okay, just… thinking. But I’m good, thank you.” He replied, smushing his face further in his partner’s chest.

“Why are you thanking me sweetie?” There was wonder in her voice as she thought about what Maximus was talking about.

“Just for being there. For being you and doing this with me. It’s a weird feeling but I finally feel safe and like I can take things slow for the first time ever.” He poked his head up to look her in the eyes, and all he saw was love. She trailed a hand to stroke her hand over his cheek and drew him in for a delicate kiss. So much of his life was hard, rough, cut-throat, that to be treated with such softness was a foreign feeling. It had taken a very long time until they could be at this point.

“I love you so much, Maxi,” pulling away no matter how much Maximus tried to follow her lips. “You deserve to have some nice things in your life. And if one of those is me, I’m honored.”

“You’re not just one thing that’s nice in my life. You’re the main reason my life is nice.” He proclaimed, pushing himself on to his elbows above the woman in the bed. Maximus leaned down and captured her lips in his once more; this time with more vigor and attention. Trailing a hand down her side over the covers, she shivered lightly as the touch tickled her. Maximus broke away from the kiss and just smiled down at her. 

”I’m hungry.” He stated plainly, getting up off the bed and wandering into the kitchen. She laughed out loud as he rifled through the cabinets to find something to eat and was happy that he finally found what he had, apparently, been searching for. A can of tuna.

Maximus grabbed a fork and made his way to the bed after opening and draining the can. He slid under the covers once more and offered a bite to the girl next to him, to which she declined. She watched him happily eat the canned fish in the bed, but pushed him off when he tried to kiss her again.

“No sir. You go brush your teeth and wash your hands before coming back to me. I don’t want that smell lingering.” The man pouted as he was kicked from the bed, and went to do as he was told. In the meantime, she got out of the bed and lit a candle to get rid of the remaining smells. By the time Maximus made it back to bed, she was back under the covers and looked like she was dozing off. He slipped back underneath, yet again, and held her close.

“I love you.” He whispered, unsure if she could hear him or not.

“I love you too.” She whispered back, happy that he felt comfortable enough to say it.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout imagine #fallout #maximus #maximus x reader #Maximus imagine #maximus x oc #maximus fallout #Maximus fallout imagine #Maximus fallout x reader

[lovelybrooke]

tossing my hat into the ring on how I think Stella and then striker would find out about reader

now Stella seems very in the loop about hell gossip, based on her interactions in the show alone. But I also think she has a pretty decent relationship with Octavia, just from what we’ve seen. So Octavia probably mentions she made a friend to her mom, a one time thing that isn’t emphasized as much. But it doesn’t take Stella long to realize that a human has been around stolas and IMP and that human is her daughters new friend. Stella clearly doesn’t care about imps and think of them as below her, so I can very quickly see her just outright asking striker to stalk you. And even though strikers an assassin and hates royals, he does seem quickly swayed by money because he’s a hypocrite. So he finds out information on reader and reports back to Stella. Stella I imagine uses this for personal gain, she uses it to get a leg up on stolas with their daughters friend to seem like a better parent, while also being able to use it if she needs to threaten stolas. Hopefully this makes a little sense so you can at least get the idea I was going for 😅

Dude I'm gonna be so honest, when I first read this my only thought was "who the fuck is Stella" but don't worry I remembered.

So anyway, I don't think Stella would ever be on good terms with reader. She definitely gives of the vibes of someone who doesn't like being a parent, and honestly since I haven't watched HH this could be wrong, but she definitely seems like someone who was forced into this role, and because of that resents her husband and daughter. When it comes to reader, I think she sees Octavia being happy and, almost in an act of jealously, she attempts to drive a wedge between you and her daughter.

She doesn't like the fact that you're here, she thinks it's wrong, it's not right for a human to be in hell. She doesn't like the fact that her daughter associates with you. And she hates it even more when Stolas starts to grow close to you. I think internally she starts to feel like she's being pushed out of her own family, and even thought that's what she wanted, she didn't want it to happen this way.

I think she would get Striker to stalk you, but only for a short while. It's mainly due to the fact that once Striker sees that you're a kid who's a nervous wreck most the time he starts to question whether or not this is a good idea. Don't get me wrong, Striker will do it as long as Stella's paying him, but he honestly doesn't see the point since you're mainly just with the I.M.P.s.

Now, would it be interesting if somehow Striker was the one to figure out readers connection to the Hotel Gang, yeah it would. I don't know how he'd figure it out, but I think him spilling this information to Stella, and Stella deciding to hand you back to them as a way of getting you out of her life is pretty interesting idk.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #platonic yandere hazbin hotel #platonic yandere helluva boss #yandere helluva boss #helluva boss x reader

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Fallen Order request is "I don't see him" for @dragonleighs

Eyes roaming the snowy scene ahead of them, Merrin does her best to mirror Cere and contain her panic, as though they haven’t just watched an avalanche crush an entire village with their friends still inside it. The last thing she saw was Cal, arms thrown out, the Force gathering. “I don’t see him,” she shouts over the snowstorm. “I don’t see any of them.”

“Neither do I,” Cere says. She closes her eyes, breathing steadying. “They’re alive.”

It takes all Merrin’s self-control to not demand more information from Cere. That, and the knowledge that there are a lot of frightened people gathered behind them, people she refuses to scare further when they may have lost loved ones to the snow and ice. Instead, she stays quiet, feeling the Force move around Cere in ways not accessible to a Nightsister.

Cere’s eyes spring open. She points. “There. Where the clinic used to be.”

Merrin grabs her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” Cere pauses for a moment to face the other villagers. “Get to higher ground!”

The elder takes control of their people, leading them to a nearby cliff. Cere gives Merrin a nod, and they’re standing atop the ruined village a heartbeat later. Merrin feels the Force beneath her, a great hand pushing up with waning strength. She summons her magick, lets its flames melt the snow. Cere reaches down and pulls out Greez, who wastes no time turning back and helping her free the others.

Merrin looks up, sees more snow headed their way. She races forward, moving so slowly, half-blinded by the storm, but her magick is as rapid as her thinking, a wall of fire blocking its onward path. She puts more strength into it, but nature can only be held back for so long, and already she is forced to retreat, centimeter by centimeter.

“Everyone’s out, Merrin!” Cere bellows. “Move!”

She teleports back to the others and finds the villagers, Cere, Greez, Cal and BD wading through waist-deep snow. Cere’s pulling Cal onward. Greez, being smaller, struggles more, and Merrin grabs him and teleports them both back to the safety of the cliff where the rest of the villagers wait. She turns to go back to help the others, but they’re already scrambling to safety. Cal rolls onto the cliff, nudged a little further from the edge with a few head bumps from BD. He flops onto his side, panting for breath, glassy eyed with exhaustion. Cere crouches down, squeezes his shoulder, and then looks up to the villagers. “Is everyone alright?”

There is a collective yes (if Merrin ignores Greez’s gagging at her side). The elder steps forward. “We should seek shelter in the caves,” they say. “Can he walk?” They mean Cal.

Cere shakes her head. The elder calls to a large, practically Wookie-sized Human male and he scoops up Cal and unceremoniously throws him over his shoulder. BD hops onto Cere’s shoulders. The elder leads the entire group into the nearby caves for shelter.

“Are you done throwing up?” Merrin asks Greez, her hand on his back as she leads him on. If they lose sight of the others in this weather, they might never find the caves.

“Ugh, I hope so,” Greez says, pushing through the snowstorm. “But I’m alive, and I’m very grateful to you and Cal for helping keep me that way, so no more complaining from me.”

In the cave, villagers unpack emergency supplies, including heaters and blankets. Merrin and Greez find Cere, Cal and BD-1 near one of these heaters, Cal’s head cushioned on Cere’s lap, tucked under a blanket, BD sticking close.

“Wore himself out huh?” Greez says, sitting down and resting a hand on Cal’s head. “So much for taking it easy after Nur.”

Cere only manages the faintest of smiles. “Perhaps the next place we stop at should be devoid of all weather.”

“I know a few merchant barges that will serve our needs,” Greez says, Cal not stirring as he runs his hair through his fingers. “He kept that snow off our heads until Merrin melted it. I don’t think he knew he could do it until he did.” He looks to Merrin. “You did good to get us out.”

Merrin sits down too. “It was a team effort.”

Cere reaches over, her hand resting atop Merrin’s. “You gave us enough time to get everyone out.”

Merrin feels herself smiling and blushing. “Happy to help.”

The villagers settle into groups. A short while later a few come over and provide bowls of simple soup. The scent of warm food rouses Cal, who sits up and eats with minimal conversation. He blinks and grunts in response to any questions. He does at least seem glad the villagers are all alive.

“I have decided I do not like snow,” Merrin tells him.

He glances at her, yawning massively. “Me neither.”

#fic requests 2024 #jfo minific #jfo head canon #star wars jedi: fallen order #cal kestis #bd 1 #jedi survivor spoilers #merrin #cere junda #greez

[twistedwonderlandwriting]

A Love Long Forgotten|𖦹๋࣭ ⭑ᡣ𐭩⊹ 𖦹๋࣭ ⭑

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

Wordcount:1,021|readerx:Allstudents|Style:Oneshot

WARNINGS: Angst!|Disociation|Hanahaki

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

Everything was hazy, even as you attempted to reveal your previous memories, the ones that always left a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach and made your heart squeeze in the best possible way. Though the memories that previously left you feeling all warm and fuzzy now left you with a sense of dread, or rather their lack of presence did. Leaving you with a looming dark cloud as if prophesying what was to come. Why weren't they there? Why couldn't you recall those.....wait were they happy times? Who were you with? All the figures were...not blurry but vague as if you couldn't recall what they looked like anymore, imagining different ethnicities, clothes, hair, skin, eyes, face shapes, noses, but nothing seemed to click. As if the very essence of your loved ones were slipping away, and with the memories of past experiences and people slipping away so was your spirit and will.

Who were you anymore? Were you still the same? Scratch that you obviously weren't the same. Were you even a person anymore? Looking down at your hands they didn't look like yours anymore.....hell nothing truly looked like you anymore. This world had changed you so much....too much. Body, mind, and soul it had ripped into the very fiber of your being torn apart and then flippantly tried to piece you together like a broken puzzle.....You couldn't even dress the way you used to or wanted to, forced to live in the few uniforms and whatever you could find in the lost and found. How long had it been since you arrived in this twisted wonderland? Six? Seven? Maybe eight months? Hell it could have even been a year. It had been April when your shit show of a life began...well your “life” in wonderland at least......why were you here? What was the point?

Not everything had been bad though. The people you had met had been wonderful…at times…some of them had at least, some more....challenging than others but all beautiful and talented in their own right that was the one thing you could confidently state you didn't regret.

Though with even the most wonderful people came scars, mother the time it's in a metaphorical sense but unfortunately for you it had been quite literal as soon as you were thrust into this world. Fighting for your life metaphorically and physically as you barely scrounged by. Becoming a friend, therapist, reliable constant in your friends lif-…no. In the schools. Slowly reassuring, validating and guiding all the mentally crippled students into a slightly better mentality bit by bit while ironically your mental health eroded away…

Not minding because they were friends. I mean they would do the same in return right? They appreciated your efforts, right? Even if they didn't understand your references or jokes at times they still cared.

.

.

.

.

“I'm so glad we're friends.”

The pause in his actions hurt more than any slap across the face or outright rejection ever could have. Maybe it was wrong. You shouldn't have blurted it out. Just being stupidly sentimental while rolling cookie dough into balls, maybe that was the reason, maybe the small action made you feel like a kid again. Less damaged, less broken, lifting your heart in a way that it hadn't in a long long time. It may have been wrong to blurt something so sentimental out, but it just felt so right as you helped him bake a plethora of deserts for the upcoming birthday party. Though the apologetic smile he gave you afterwards taking a brief moment to let his eyes linger on you before he pushed up his glasses and turned back his gaze down to the counter, working wordlessly made it so much worse.

One by one your casual small acts of service, gifts, and company were being rejected so casually by everyone you offered them to. As the memories seemed to flood you squeezing at your heart as a reminder of how little your so called "friends" truly cared as you leaned over the toilet bowl hacking and coughing into it the petals and blood that seemed to form in your throat and get thicker at like a unwanted metallic sludge clogging your throat. It was a massacre with how many differing types of flowers, succulents, and even a form of mushroom species you had clogging your throat, shaking around painfully in your lungs, hitting the walls with painful thuds while you coughed. A painful and bitter reminder of your predicament: Getting out as much as you could before flushing the toilet.

Using the edges and what little strength remained to push yourself up from your kneeling position. Wobbly staggering over to sink to wash off the blood and petals that suck to you from around you mouth and dripping onto your chin with the freezing water that snapped you out of your dazed.

No one had even taken notice to your wobbly steps or how you covered your mouth to cough into your hands at least twenty times an hour as the Hanahaki got worse with each passing day. Though you would have thought that Vil, Riddle, Rook, or even Malleus's astute eyes should have noticed…The thick but now familiar feeling of something gathering in your throat started once again, signaling once more that another coughing or rather choking fit was near. Covering your mouth once more as the petals filled your hands. Though unlike the last few times, it didn't stop. The build-up becoming worse as the attempt of getting the pesky beings out of your airway failed. Your vision darkened suddenly as a wave of nausea and dizziness hit worse than it ever had before. The cold feeling of the tile making contact with your knees causing the thud to ripple throughout the empty halls as the flowers blocked your airway and filled your lungs.

Unrequited love really hurt, but it would be fine. You'd love them all even if it killed you. After all, wasn't it fitting you put your life on the line for them one last time.

#disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst angst #Twisted wonderland angst #angst #hanahaki #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #cater diamond #ace trappola #deuce spade #Leona Kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #Jack Howl #Azul Ashengrotto #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #kalim al asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #rook hunt #epel felmier #Idia shroud #ortho shroud #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge #twst silver

[castiwls]

tolerate it pt2 - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt;

Requested; anon

Notes;highly requested sorry its taken so long.

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

In the days since Dean had left, you’d spent most of your time thinking. You’d gone over and over your conversation with Dean until you were pretty sure you’d analysed every single word a few times over.

You’d come to the conclusion that upon Dean’s return, he was gonna have a choice to make. It killed you inside to even think in this way but you knew something had to be done. Living life locked away in a bunker was nothing you’d imagined, nor wanted. Before the bunker your life had been filled with long car rides and late-night conversations whispered under the covers of old motel rooms.

You’d never bothered much about Dean’s protectiveness back then because you’d still had the freedom of exploring new towns and finding small hidden treasures. You’d loved the whirlwind of moving from town to town. State to state. Until it had stopped. Until you’d found yourself trapped in a metal prison.

By no means were you kept here forcefully. You could leave at any point but you didn’t want to. Walking around the same town on your own was only entertaining for a certain amount of time before it grew repetitive. While before Dean used to join you as you’d both explore the new towns, now he barely left the bunker unless he was hunting.

Even when he was here he’d always have a reason to stay behind while you adventured out for supplies. 

Which is what brought you to now. What brought you to sit on your bed, a duffle bag in hand as you slowly worked up the courage to begin the task of packing. It almost broke your heart in two reaching from the draw and slowly opening it. Pulling out the first piece of clothing felt like you were poking small holes in your heart.

You loved Dean, you truly did but you couldn’t live like this any longer. 

“What are you doing?” You jumped slightly at the voice, dropping the top you’d been holding. “Your back.” You quickly picked up the top before turning to face Dean who stood staring at you. His eyes darted between the bag and your open draw before back to you. A small look of fear crossed his face for a moment before quickly disappearing. You were leaving?!

“Sweetheart.” He slowly began walking towards you, his arms reaching out to grasp your own. “What are you doing?” He repeated.

“Giving you a choice.” You responded simply, keeping your expression calm. “You let me come with you every so often, or I leave. For good.” 

Dean faltered for a moment. His grip on your arms tightens. “You..you can’t leave. Sweetheart why would you…no.” He shook his head as his mind raced a mile a minute. “I can’t keep doing this.” A small frown pulled on your lips as you softened your gaze. “It’s not fair on me. I feel useless here Dean! You never let me help anymore!” 

“I’m trying to keep you safe! Why can’t you see that.” He threw his arms up turning his back to you before running a hand through his hair. “You being here is the safest place you can be.”

You shook your head. “What’s the point of this relationship if you're never here and I'm constantly sitting here doing nothing? I spend my time worrying that one day Sam will walk through that door and you won’t be with him!” Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you tried to reason with him. “I can’t keep doing this Dean.” You pressed a hand to your mouth taking in a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“Either start letting me help or I’m leaving.”

You held your breath, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest as he stayed silent before turning back to face you. His heart beat in his ears as he considered his options for a moment. Losing you would break him, but seeing you in harm's way would also break him.

He felt stuck between a rock and a hard place as he stared at you. Taking his silence as an answer you nodded, pushing the tears back. “Fine.” You turned back to the draw beginning to throw things into your bag. 

The feel of arms wrapping around your waist stalled you slightly. “Stay, please. I can’t lose you.” His lips pressed against the side of your head before he nuzzled his face against your neck. “We can compromise. I’ll teach you how to hunt but on my terms.” He turned you in his arms allowing you both to come face to face. 

“I'm so sorry.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before repeating himself. “We can fix this. I promise.” You nodded slightly. It was a start. Him even considered the idea of training you was a step up from before.

“You better keep that promise.” You nodded towards the bag. “Or I really will leave, I swear.” Dean nodded before pulling you impossibly closer, his hand caressing the back of your head.

“I promise.”

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #spn fanfic #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester drabble #dean winchester fluff #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #spn angst #spn x you #spn x y/n #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #supernatural drabble #supernatural x you #sam winchester fanfiction #sam and dean #.mine #.spn #.deanwinchester

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Shadowsongs

Summary: After Rhys and Feyre decide to take a trip away to the Summer Court for the night to escape the thralls of their newborn, Azriel is left caring for Nyx and finds that his greatest battle might just be getting him to sleep. I also recently rewatched the Labyrinth and forgot how much that movie slapped so the song from that is included.

As the Velaris tower clock chimed midnight, the sitting room of the River House was enveloped in the soft, ambient glow of faelight. Azriel sunk deeper into the plush, green, velvet couch, his expansive wings draped elegantly over the back of the chair, eyes heavy with exhaustion. His hand rhythmically patted the back of the squirming bundle nestled snugly against his chest. The babe, Nyx, resisted sleep with the tenacity of an Illyrian warrior, his tiny fists punching the air as if to protest the very concept of bedtime. 

The room was a playful mess, strewn with toys - dolls lay abandoned, blankets were tossed aside, and bottles had rolled under chairs. Azriel had assured Feyre and Rhys he could manage babysitting for a day and night. They desperately needed a break after months of non-stop parenting in tandem with running the Night Court, and a trip to the breezy shores of the Summer Court was the only thing keeping Feyre from collapsing into tears. Feyre had sobbed when they left, overwhelming Azriel with reminders of Nyx’s schedule and a litany of do’s and don'ts, which Azriel already knew inside and out. Her maternal instincts flared to the point where Rhys had to gentle pull her away, reassuring her that Nyx would be fine for one night, and, if anything, they should be more concerned about Azriel surviving Nyx than Nyx surviving Azriel. 

Typically, everyone shared babysitting duties throughout the week day, but with Nesta and Cassian off in the Autumn Court, Elain incapacitated by her first fae cycle, and Amren claiming she would rather cut out her own tongue than be left alone with a babe, the responsibility had fallen to Azriel. Leaving Nyx overnight for the first time might have been a tad ambitious. 

“Come on, Nyx,” he coaxed with a whisper of amusement. “You’ve got to give in at some point.” Azriel briefly considered that perhaps this was how the victims of his torture efforts may have felt when they had been kept awake for hours on end. Perhaps he should start having them babysit a fussy Illeryian babe instead of cutting off fingers. He chuckled to himself before pushing the thought away.

Yet, Nyx remained defiant, his violet eyes locked on the ceiling, deep in thought, as if unraveling the secrets of the cosmos rather than giving in to slumber. Azriel exhaled deeply, his fingers threading through his tousled black hair. After learning about Feyre’s pregnancy he had stealthily devoured every parenting book Feyre had purchased, to the perfect formula-to-water ratio, optimal bath temperatures, and baby sensory activities, he had learned it all. When Feyre faced challenges with breastfeeding, Azriel had accidentally revealed his clandestine studies by suggesting a particular latching technique. Cassian had teased him relentlessly since. Despite employing every baby battle strategy known to him, Nyx was relentless.

With a resigned sigh, Azriel sank even further into the plush cushions, resigning himself to a long night. As he watched Nyx’s tiny chest rise and fall with each breath, he couldn’t help but marvel at the sheer stubbornness of the new babe. Azriel couldn’t tell if that was more from Feyre or Rhys, and then decided that that trait most likely came from his Auntie Nesta, whom Nyx had wrapped around his tiny, chubby fingers.

In the dimly lit room, Azriel’s gaze followed his shadows as they danced across the ceiling, capturing Nyx’s rapt attention. With a grin, he watched them twirl and twirl – they were always more playful when Nyx was around. His shadows seemed as curious about Nyx as he was about them. During gatherings at the River House, it wasn’t uncommon for the shadows to envelop Nyx, tickling him and teasing him, eliciting peals of laughter from the delighted babe as he reached out to catch them. 

Elain had said before that the shadows and Nyx reminded her when she and her sisters were young, a black barn cat would seek her out to frolic among the late summer heat. Azriel wondered what Nyx made of these ethereal companions, if they were like an animal to him, or another playmate. He also pondered whether the shadows would maintain their fascination with him as he grew older. Azriel, himself, hadn’t spent much time around children this young, and his shadows seemed to be so gentle with the babe, as though they somehow could sense his innocence and hoped he would keep it forever.

As Azriel and Nyx both kept their gaze to the ceiling, the shadows began to craft intricate shapes and forms, transforming into a mesmerizing puppet show. Nyx’s restless squirming subsided as the shadows danced across the walls, casting enchanting silhouettes that swirled and twirled in their silent ballet creating a tableau of delight.

On the ceiling, an array of animals appeared in what resembled a grand ballroom scene. Pegasus, birds, and sheep mingled before parting to reveal a single swan, its wings unfurling with ethereal grace. The swan bowed elegantly before twirling loftily above its admiring audience. Then, emerging from the gathered shadows, a sly fox approached, gracefully taking the swan’s wings in its paws and spinning it in a delicate dance. Although the room was silent, one could easily imagine the soft strains of music. Nyx reached up excitedly, prompting Azriel to adjust his hold, lifting him slightly higher for a better view.

As the dance continued above, some shadows descended the walls and playfully twirled around Nyx, their cool touch eliciting giggles from the dark-haired babe.

The shadows conjured forth visions of Nyxs’ family, distant echoes of life beyond the cozy sitting room. 

In one corner of the room, the shadows morphed into delicate snowflakes cascading down the wall. Above the floorboard, three figures raced across the scene – two winged Illyrians and one without wings. The winged males playfully lobbed snowballs at their wingless companion, who shielded his head with his hands. Suddenly, a log sprung from the ground, causing the wingless man to trip and tumble face-first into a pile of snow below. The two other males doubled over with laughter, one even dropping to his knees as the snow continued to fall. Nyx’s eyes widened with wonder, his tiny fingers reaching out to grasp the fleeting shapes. The snowball fight between his father and brothers drew excited coos and giggles from him, his laughed echoing around the room.

In the other corner, the shadows drifted into a scene of a woman standing at an easel, the woman's stomach swollen with child. The shadow woman stood before an easel, her brush moving across the canvas, she ran her hand over her stomach, glancing down towards it when a man walked in behind her, twirling her around into an embrace. The man leaned over, placing a tender kiss on the woman's stomach. Nyx babbled joyfully, his tiny feet kicking Azriel’s chest with delight, which while uncomfortable brought a smile to his face.

Across the ceiling, the shadows painted a scene of a great battle, a field of war and chaos as two winged males fight back to back against a vast army, shooting arrows and swinging swords. 

While the shadows swirled the tapestry of memories, Azriel looked only at Nyx, who giggled and babbled in delight at the unfolding scenes. With each passing moment, it became increasingly apparent to Azriel that while the shadows were doing their best to soothe Nyx to sleep, they had only awakened him more. It became glaringly obvious that bedtime stories wouldn’t work. 

Nyx’s giggles and coos echoed through the River House. With a sigh, Azriel gestured for the shadows to cease their dance, and the room was once again plunged into a soft, dim glow. 

“Alright, Nyx,” Azriel murmured, his voice gentle but tinged with exhaustion. “Let’s try something else.”

He drew Nyx back into his arms, cradling him close against his chest. Rising from the enveloping comfort of the couch, Azriel’s footsteps were muted against the plush rug of the sitting room as he began to meander through the house. Moonlight streamed through the towering windows, casting the ornate corridors in a serene silvery light, illuminating the walls adorned with Feyre’s vibrant paintings. 

Feyre and Rhys had both endured their share of sleepless nights, pacing the same halls with Nyx in their arms. Rhys had noted that being the babe of the Night Court it seemed all Nyx wanted to do was explore the world when the sun had set and all had gone quiet. Perhaps Nyx was more bat than babe.

Undeterred, Azriel pressed on, his footsteps echoing through the halls as he swayed in arms in a steady rhythm. But Nyx remained stubbornly awake, his eyes darting from window to window cooing loudly. As he reached the grand staircase that spiraled upwards, a faint cry echoed through the silence. Nyx stirred in his arms, his tiny fists clutching at his shirt as he let out a wail. 

Azriel attempted to shush the fussy baby who now was wailing louder for what seemed no apparent reason. Perhaps Nyx was finally fighting exhaustion as well. With a sigh, Azriel retraced his steps, as he stepped into Nyx’s nursery. 

Feyre had taken months to finally get the nursery the way she envisioned it. She had wanted Nyx’s room to encompass the entirety of Prythian as they were unsure what powers Nyx might hold. 

Each wall of the room was a canvas of vibrant colors and intricate designs including the bay window that Feyre had insisted be where Nyxs’ bassinet be. 

Painting the Spring Court wall had been a battle unto itself with Rhys and Cassian joking constantly that the wall should be burning to the ground, or that she should paint Tamlin being pursued by a dragon. Feyre had just shot them an obscene gesture and instead painted spring blossoms of pastel pinks and greens. Delicate flowers bloomed amidst emerald meadows, their petals unfurling in the warmth of the sun. Amongst the meadow was a warm pool with a waterfall cascading down a mountainside. 

Opposite, the wall of Summer blazed with the fiery hues of the sun, a tapestry of gold and crimson beamed down onto the deep blue sea, where Tarquin’s white castle glistened atop the white sandstone mountain. 

Next to it, the wall of Autumn was a symphony of earthy greens, oranges, reds, and browns. The Autumn Court forest held deep shadows which made the wheat fields protruding from them seem like shining gold. Lucien had helped Feyre paint this wall, and his awkward-looking, disproportionate deer and fawns clearly showed that. 

Beside the Autumn wall, the Winter Court lay shrouded in a blanket of icy blues and silvery whites. Snowflakes danced amidst frost kissed pines, their branches bending beneath the weight of the winter embrace. Bears and arctic foxes scampered on the piles of snow, wearing the traditional colors. Elain had insisted on giving the little foxes scarves. Azriel had reminded her they were made for that sort of weather but Elain had only glanced at him sadly before saying “But what if they get cold” before she painted tiny mittens on the bears. 

On the half of the ceiling closest to the door, Feyre had painted the Dawn and Day courts. Sunlight streamed through branches of ancient oaks as it rose from the corner of the room, and hills of rolling green with children from each court playing amongst them filled out the space. 

Over Nyxs’ crib, Feyre had painted a deep blue color of the sky with a sparkle of stars strewn across it. Rhys had enchanted the space just below the ceiling to be constantly in motion with sparkling star dust which moved in and out of constellations, with the occasional shooting star flying high above. 

As Nyx continued his tirade of shrill cries, Azriel rocked him around the room, shushing him as much as he could. As he continued to sway gently with Nyx in his arms, the baby began to quiet, his tiny body nestled into Azriels chest as his breaths steadied. With a tender smile, he began to sing, his voice a gentle melody through the darkness, like a whispered prayer. 

“I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry,” he sang, “What could I do?” 

With each note, Nyx grew more and more relaxed, his eyelids fluttering closed from the gentle cadence and rocking. 

“My baby’s love had gone and left my baby blue” he sang, his voice soft and tender, “Nobody knew.” 

Azriel watched Nyx’s tiny fingers curl against his chest, his breathing slow and steady and sleep drifted closer. 

“What kind of magic spell to use, slime and snails, puppy dog tails, thunder or lightning,” Azriel continued to sing as he wandered carefully over to the crib. 

“Dance magic, dance magic dance, dance magic dance,” He lowered Nyx into the soft blue oasis. “Jump magic, jump, jump magic, put that baby’s spell on me, kiss my baby, make her free,” Azriel placed his palm onto Nyx’s chest and continued to rub back and forth soothingly. 

“I saw my baby,” He continued, softer, more of a whisper, “Trying hard as babe could try, what could I do?” Azriel dropped to his knees, his fingers tracing the lines of the baby's face as he rested his arm on the side of the bassinet and laid his head atop it. “My baby’s fun had gone, and left my baby blue, nobody knew.” Nyx’s soft pink lips fell open slightly as his eyes finally closed and his head fell to the side. Azriel smiled and found his eyes drifting shut as well. 

Feyre found them the next morning that way. Nyx sprawled on his back, his tiny fingers wrapped around Azriels, and Azriel, a piled heap on the floor, his wings splayed on the floor behind him with his head still resting against the crib. 

Rhys walked up behind her as Feyre motioned him silently. “I guess he does sleep,” she whispered.

“Who?” Rhys chuckled, “Az or Nyx?”

Feyre turned her head to look at Rhys, “Both I guess.” 

Rhys asked Feyre if she planned to go in and wake either of them up but Feyre only shook her head, “I think they both could use a little more time.” 

With that, Feyre shut the door quietly, leaving the warrior and the babe to sleep a little longer.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acowar #a court of wings and ruin #acofas #a court of frost and starlight #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #acosf #a court of silver flames #acotar memes #sjm #sjmaas #sjmassbooks #sarahjmaas #acotar funny #incorrect acotar quotes #incorrectacotarquotes #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar nyx #nyx acotar #nyx archeron #nyx heir of the night court #feyre #feyre archeron #feyre acotar #feyre archeron acotar #azriel #azriel fanart

[scekrex]

Hi I am wonder if you could do anothe part for overlord!reader, like maybe news on how reader has Adam got out and now reader has to take time from his personal paradise to deal with the rest of Hell. Their place is hidden away so he doesn’t really have to deal with attack but he does have to deal with contant calls to buy or hand over Adam. Reader is just increasingly piss off and at some point Adam decide to help him chill out by snuggling him when it became clear he’s close to losing it. It gotten bad enough that Adam straight up drag a reclining couch to his office which help which helps wth work because an angel being all cuddly nearby would motivate anyone haul ass quickly to join them

Fuck I'm such a sucker for the soft bond overlord!reader and Adam have, I wanna write for em all day long ughhh

Part 1 ; Part 2 ; Part 3 ; Part 4

Lover come hold me

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

After that little date you and Adam had enjoyed the prior week, news that the former angel was living with you spread through hell’s seven rings like a disease. And while your life as an Overlord in general had grown more stressful ever since the exterminations had been invented, this was a new peak of stress.

People kept reaching out, strangers managed to get their claws on your phone number and had the audacity to call you and ask for how much you would sell the first man to them, not understanding that Adam was not for sale. The first man would continue to stay at your place for as long as he desired and if one day he should decide that he no longer wants to spend eternity with you, he could move out. Selling him to some limp dick Imp was off the table though. Hell’s residents didn’t seem to understand that though, they kept calling you, blowing up your phone like there was no tomorrow, your text messages were full of people offering insanely high amounts of money for Adam and some people even dared to pay you a personal visit - though those were only people you knew. Not everyone in hell knew where exactly your mansion was located and you were more than grateful for that. A protection spell you had casted recently would also prevent any ordinary sinner or hellborn to ever find it.

You dropped your head onto your desk, the loud noise it made caused Adam to lift his head, his eyes looking you up and down. The first man was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked at you with a displeased expression, “The fuck is going on?” You sighed as you turned your head towards your lover, yet you kept it on the desk, you were too tired to lift it up. “Hell’s demons seem to be very interested in you, my love,” you mumbled as you reached for your phone that was interrupting the situation by buzzing quite loudly, “Fuck off, he’s not for fucking sale like a motherfucking slave,” and with that you hung up, not even hearing the person on the other end out. Your tired eyes watched as the first man left the little room you had organized to function as your office. Apparently Adam himself seemed to have enough of hell’s bullshit as well and you really could not blame the former angel at all. It must be exhausting to know that people down here either want him permanently dead or that they want to buy him like a pet you can just shop. The poor soul must suffer from this even more than you were. You were able to turn off your phone and ignore it, he wasn’t. Not when all of this was about him, after all. You had offered him protection when you had rescued him, now you were not even able to provide a peaceful afterlife for the first man.

In exhaustion you closed your eyes but the silence in your office didn’t last long, this time however it was not your phone that interrupted the somewhat peaceful moment, it was Adam. The first man was dragging a reclining couch through the door, pushing it through the room until he had decided on what appeared to be the perfect spot for it, then he walked over to where you were resting your head on your desk. Without any explanation the first man took your phone, muted the device and put it back on the table. “You,” he said as he lifted you out of your chair. Your body went limp as the brunette picked you up as if it was the easiest thing he had ever done, your head was now resting on the first man’s shoulder instead of the hard wooden desk and your body embraced the warmth that Adam’s body offered. Legs were wrapped around the brunette’s hips and arms held onto his neck, the former angel’s hands steadied your back so that you were not to fall. His soft, shimmering wings he wrapped around you, turning the stressful world off for a moment as he carried you over to the couch he had just dragged here. “Are gonna fucking rest and ignore all that motherfucking bullshit for a couple hours,” he finished his sentence as he flopped down onto the couch.

Adam had never been this touch before, yes he had hugged you, yes the both of you cuddled while sleeping, but him hauling an entire couch into your office just to distract you from the chaos that hell was going through because its residents now knew Adam was living with you? That was nothing you’d turn down - not that you’d ever turn down affection the former angel offered you in general. “Whatever my mighty winged love desires,” you hummed as you snuggled closer against his chest. The brunette’s chin came to rest on the top of your head as he simply held you, the wings provided a comfortable warmth that made you fall asleep quicker than you had thought it would. But the warmth paired with Adam’s scent had you asleep in no time and with a small smile your tall lover watched over his finally resting boyfriend.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[pixelword]

♯┆“Save a horse! Ride a cowboy” .ᐟ ★

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Striker x Afab!Reader <3

This is purely horny lmao

Striker chugs down the rest of his whiskey, setting the glass back down on the counter with force, making a loud thud. He licks the amber liquid off his lips and flashes you a toothy grin. “Be right back darling.”

You raise an eyebrow but say nothing, waiting for him to be out of sight before reaching for his black cowboy hat that he had taken off earlier. You always had wanted to try it on, but never had the chance to. Striker always kept it on him or nearby, practically attached to it.

You set your drink down on the counter and place the hat on your head. “Pow” you make a mock gunshot, your hand doing a finger gun and pointed outside.

“Now c’mon sugar, I don’t look like that do I?”

You jump in your stool when you hear his voice over your shoulder, but recover quickly. “Nah, I look more badass.”

He chuckles , “Yeah?” He sits back down on his stool beside you and orders another whiskey. “Ever heard of the cowboy hat rule?”

“The what now?”

He chuckles and looks at the bartender who sets a glass of whiskey down. “Do you know about the cowboy hat rule?”

The bartender glances at the both of you and chuckles. “Don’t drag me into this.” He returns to cleaning cups and attending the other customers.

You look at Striker with a look of confusion at whatever he could mean. He chuckles again and downs his shot in one go, once he swallows he decides to speak again.

“So the cowboy hat rule,” he starts, “is that if you take a cowboys hat and wear it, you gotta ride the cowboy.”

You feel your face burn at his words, your face showing your surprise. “I- What?”

“You heard me sugar” he grins, you can hear the slight rattle of his tail.

You can feel a heat settle in your stomach, making you clench your thighs. You can’t tell if the heat is from the words or from the alcohol, maybe a combination of both. He’s handsome, that much is obvious, his voice has a nice tone to it that’s made even better with his accent, and the way he carries himself is of someone with a high reputation.

“So if I ride you,” You hold in a giggle from the look of surprise that flashes on his face, “do I get to keep the hat on?”

“Do you wanna find out sugar?”

You knock back the rest of your drink and wave the bartender over to pay your tab. Striker grabs your hand and practically drags you out of the bar.

“Slow down there cowboy, we’re not even home yet.”

“Ain’t patient enough for the ride home doll.” He walks up a set of stairs on the side of the bar. Looking up you can see the sign of the bar includes the fact it’s also a motel. How convenient.

Striker pushes the door open and walks up to the counter, and imp who looks similar to the bartender down stairs mains the counter. Striker quickly gets a room, you not really paying attention to their conversation before being pulled by Striker down the hall till he opens a door, quickly pulling you in before closing the door and pushing you against it. His lips quickly meet yours, it immediately becomes a battle of dominance as you pull him in closer by his vest.

When he pulls back you try to think of something snarky to say as you pant but Striker shuts you up by pressing his lips to you. The taste of nicotine and whiskey floods your senses, a taste that was so him you weren’t surprised about it.

He sucks on your tongue and presses a knee between your legs. You can’t help but grind down on his thigh, the friction making you let out a whine.

You reach up to grab something to ground yourself, your fingers finding his snow white hair and tangling with the strands. You give them a tug and he moans into your mouth, pulling away to smirk at you.

“I knew you liked it rough.” you tease.

He chuckles, “You don’t know the half of it.” He walks backwards towards the bed, pulling you along by your waist. He sits himself on the edge of the bed, grinning at you. You smile back at him and sit yourself on his lap, knees resting on the mattress on either side of him, his bulge rubs right against rubs right against your core. He reaches his hands up your shirt and squeezes your tits over your bra.

“Satan,” he groans “I should have given you the damn hat much sooner. I’d give you all the damn hats I own to see you like this everyday.”

You lean and press a kiss on the corner of his lips, “easy there cowboy,” you move your lips down to his jaw and neck, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

He shivers under your touch, swallowing hard at the nips you leave over his neck. His hips thrust up when you suddenly bite and suck a dark mark, fingers digging into your hips. “E-easy now darling.”

You drag your hips back and forth on his lap slightly, his hard cock grinding on your sex through your pants. He grunts at the friction and you bite your lip to keep the sounds from leaving your mouth.

His hands travel from your hips under your shirt, pulling it up while grinding you. You remove his hat as you take your shirt off and put it on once done. He cups your face with his hands before pulling you down to kiss him again. One of his hands sneaks behind your back and unclasps your bra, you pull back from the kiss “Impressive.” You hum.

Striker moves his mouth down to kiss the top of your boobs. He’s gentle, only kissing hard enough for you to feel it. “So pretty…” he whispers.

“C’mon cowboy, do something.” You tease.

He pulls back from his affection. “Why don’t you use that mouth of yours for something more useful than ordering me around darling?” He brings his fingers to your lips, rubbing the tip of his index and middle finger on your bottom lip, slowly pushing them into your mouth. You wrap your lips around them and start sucking them on instinct. “That’s a good girl…”, he praises, “keep at it.”

He slowly kisses down your left breast, kissing around your nipple but not touching it. His mouth and tongue are hot and wet, making you squirm and grind down for more. Striker moans when you dig your hips a little too hard into his.

Finally, he closes his mouth around your nipple, making you moan around his fingers. He’s an expert, having a technique so good it has you whining around his fingers and grinding against his hard on. The friction does little to help the throbbing feeling in your core and only succeeds in making Striker harder. You finally had enough.

You pull away from his fingers, Striker looks up to you with an eyebrow raised. “Did I say you could stop?”

You place your hand on his chest and push him down on the bed so he’s laying down. “I’ve had enough of you being in charge.” You grab his jacket and pull it back to remove it. “It’s my turn now, cowboy.”

You’d never imagine that Striker would have a submissive side. Yet he surprised you by laying back and letting you do what you want.

You brought your hands under his shirt and ran them up his chest, feeling the scars before pulling his shirt off him. Once off you couldn’t help but admire the sars he had over his chest, no doubt from his job. You plant light kisses over his scars and Striker sucks in a breath.

Your hands run lower, following his white happy trail to the hem of his jeans. You remove his belt with a bit of struggle but pop open his jeans quickly once you get it out of the way. You make quick work of the zipper and prop yourself up on his knees to tug his pants off. You’re greeted by the sight of his hard cock straining against his boxers and you could almost start to drool over it.

“So worked up for me,” you sigh with a teasing tone, running your finger across the outline of his dick, applying enough pressure for him to feel it but not enough to get off.

Striker pants at your touch, especially when you start to trail your fingers across the waistband of his boxers. His hands grip the sheets of the bed as you slip a finger under the fabric and run it on the skin under. You hook another finger inside and finally tug his boxers off.

His cock springs out, hard and red with the head dripping with pre cum. It had black rings like on his tail. You grip the base snugly, giggling at the way Striker sighs and throws his head back, his tail rattling due to the pleasure.

You lick the tip, the salty sweet taste of his precum flooding your mouth. He bucks his hips forwards, trying to force more of his cock into your mouth.

You pulled back from his cock, slightly hovering over it. "Not yet, cowboy. You cum inside me or you don’t cum at all."

Striker throws his head back and groans at your words, the mere idea of stuffing you full of his cum and fucking it back into you was almost enough to make him loose it and make him cum. You tug down your pants and underwear almost too eagerly, your cunt practically dripping onto his lap. “You ready cowboy?”

“After you, darling.”

You slowly sink down his cock, your pussy so wet it slides in easily. He’s big enough to make the stretch almost painful, your walls squeezing around him. The two of you moan in tandem as you slide down his dick.

Striker grabs onto your hips, his grip tight enough to surely leave bruises in the shape of his hands. You slide down a few more inches, your eyes almost rolling back due to the pleasure, your hips flush against his once you finally bottom out. Both of you are breathless, Striker's hands twitching in anticipation.

You move up his length and back down slowly, the feeling of his cock stretching your walls was almost overwhelming. Your movements get faster and stronger the more you do, getting confident on what you’re doing.

You start to bounce on his cock, your thighs slapping against his. Your hand goes up to his hat, holding it down against your head so it wouldn’t fall off. Striker helps your movements, guiding your hips, desperate for more friction.

“Fuck,” he groans, using his grip on your hips to slam you down on him, “look so damn fine in my hat.”

You open your mouth to tease him, however you’re interrupted when he lifts his hips to slam into yours. You can feel your orgasm building quickly, heat building in your stomach. Striker keeps lifting his hips to meet your movements, sliding one of his hands from his hips down to rub your clit.

The mixed pleasure coming from both actions is enough to send you over the edge, your orgasm rolling through you. Striker makes no move to slow down however, he thrust into you harder, trying to chase his orgasm.

“My sweet cowgirl,” he grunts, “cummin’ all over my cock, like a naughty slut.”

You whimper, you can feel your muscles twitching due to the overstimulation. Your hands are on his chest, holding you up so you didn’t fall face first into him. You can feel another orgasm building up already.

“Want me to cum inside you darling?” He coos, “want me to fill you up like the slut you are?”

“Y-yes!” You whine, looking down at him, digging your nails on his chest to keep yourself grounded. “Fill me up, please Striker!”

Your words send him into overdrive, an animalistic sound coming from deep down his throat. His thrusting gets faster, his hips slapping even louder against your ass with every thrust.

You squeal his name, your voice reaching a pitch you didn’t know possible. Your body twitches as your orgasm rips through you. The tightening of your walls is enough to make Striker snap. He gives one final hard thrust before spilling his cum deep inside you, the intense shockwaves of pleasure washing over you.

You feel your mind blank for a second. Striker pulls you down to lay on his chest, petting your hair as he murmurs praises in your ear, you hum to his words as you catch your breath.

When you come to, you snuggle against the crook of his neck, his cock still buried inside of you.

"So, darling, did you enjoy the ride?"

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