#love this spooky bastard of a man

[tteokdoroki]

ೀ⋆OCT 1ST PRINCESS DIARIES ━━ satoru gojo + breeding !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. satoru gojo + breeding. thirty days until you become queen, thirty days to get married and thirty days to stop sneaking around with the man trying to steal your crown… (5.2K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, royalty!au, enemies to lovers (?), forbidden romance, infidelity and cheating, spit kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, pregnancy kink, breast play, agoraphilia, baby trapping, oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, princess + fem!reader, lord!satoru gojo.

୨୧ — director’s note. woo happy spooky season my loves. welcome back to another tteokdoroki kinktober! im excited for you to see whats in store this year, hope you enjoy this fic to start off mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

you have thirty days to get married.

being from a small town, somewhere that’s not even on the map — you never expected your family name to carry much meaning aside from the one you carved out for yourself. let alone expect your name to come from royalty.

if you thought discovering how to be a teenager at sixteen was hard, then try discovering how to be a princess at sixteen on for size. everything you’ve ever done since finding out you were royalty has been for your family. you’ve kept your head down, out of the spotlight aside for the occasional appearance and charitable events. you’ve studied hard, double-majoring in international relations alongside political science and diplomacy. 

you’ve prepared yourself thoroughly enough to feel ready to take the mantle of queen — especially with your grandmother planning to step down. all of your accomplishments have been leading up to this very moment — it’s so close that you can practically feel the weight of the crown on your head. 

except there’s one itty, bitty, little problem.

you still have to get married in thirty days. otherwise, your family title will be poached from right beneath your nose.

satoru gojo (aka public enemy number one) is the nephew of a member of parliament who just so conveniently knows genovian law better than your grandmother does. since satoru came of age before you did, and he’s lived in genovia for longer than you have, and has some random distant relative in connection to the first king — the men of parliament have decided that he too is in line for the throne. 

especially if you, the princess, do not marry before your coronation. 

how ridiculous is that? 

and not only is this satoru gojo an evil, conniving, crown-stealing bastard. but he’s charming, a silver tongue wrapped around each and every one of his words. charming, like a prince (blegh) he’s also stupidly attractive. with deep sapphire blue eyes that are gorgeous enough to make the crown jewellers weak in the knees and a smile so sweet it feels like a sugar rush whenever he looks at you. there’s something so unique about the frostiness to his soft white hair, matching his unfairly long lashes — the ones you know girls back home would kill for. 

it angers you to know that you’d been dancing with your rival at your welcome ball, pains you to know that you’ll never forget his slender fingers splayed out against the small of your back to guide your every movement. if you had been back in college (and had a few litres of hard liquor in your system), perhaps gojo would have been the type of guy you’d have snuck into the dorms for a night of fun and an NDA in the morning — your secret signed away from the paparazzi’s keen eyes. 

alas, these are very different circumstances and there’s a lot riding on you being sensible about the situation. yet, satoru proves himself to be a problem every chance that he gets — cornering you in closets with his breath hot against your ear, trapping you against the walls while the ghost of his touch feels like heaven against your skin… on the staircase too, insistent on reminding you of the passionate dance you once shared.

all while you’re set to marry the duke of another country so you can keep your fucking crown (pardon the language, your highness).

suguru geto would be the perfect king consort if you managed not to mess this up. he is warm, where satoru is a flip between disastrously hot and frustratingly cold. he balances you out, a mellowness to your clumsiness whilst understanding your need for a rushed proposal and wedding. raised a gentleman, suguru is mindful of you in every action he takes. he doesn’t stare too long but smiles when you think he’s not looking and he’s a wonder with your grandmother — the parents, too. his family gem (a serpentine, making you feel much like a snake) sits heavy on your ring finger, dazzling under camera flashes at your engagement dinner…. and he recognises duty and honour above anything else too. 

if satoru is your enemy, then guilt is your friend. no matter what either of the men in your life do, you find yourself comparing their every move. when you’re with suguru your mind is away chasing the fairies, imagining the touch of another man who sets your heart alight in a cool blaze — like gasoline trickling through your veins waiting for its candle match. when you’re with satoru, all you can think about is how wrong this is. how geto doesn’t deserve this. but you’re an addict without a cure, and your drug is satoru gojo and you don’t see yourself ever  quitting him.

you're in desperate need of a wake up call and a nicotine patch, the cocky yet lecherous air about him almost acting like a smog in your healthy and capable lungs. sometimes through the fog, you wonder if satoru knows how much he weighs heavy on your mind— though if he did, you’d never hear the end of it. 

the current queen tells you not to worry about the white haired man that’s slowly freezing over the four chambers of your heart. you tell yourself that suguru geto is the only man that you need, one that could help you rule and create a beautiful and better kingdom for many years to come. geto tells you that he loves you, that he can’t wait to marry you in two or three weeks time and you respond with equal (yet, faux) excitement.

perhaps that’s why you find yourself sneaking away from this respectful, loving man to be with the one trying to ruin your life?

why are you following satoru gojo deep into the royal gardens, where the rose bushes are the only witness to your sick and twisted sins?

your back hits the jagged pattern of tree bark before your brain can catch up — causing a little wet whimper to bubble up on your pinky-peach tainted lips. the flutter of pain just beneath your skin only lasts for a second before it’s replaced by the sensation of satoru’s fingers traversing up the dips and curves of your body. he soothes you where it hurts the most, rough fingertips leaving bruising marks made with affection along your thighs and small of your back while he swallows your sweet gasps — licking into the wet cavern of your mouth to taste you. 

“you’re not even…” his words spill into you, adding fuel to the spark of lust beginning to form a pit in your stomach. “you’re not even attracted to him,” he spews, surging forward like a storm knocking on your door to press his greedy spit slicked lips to yours. his tongue, syrupy and wet, intertwined with your own, filling you up and giving you something to suck on. 

before you can even think of kissing your rival back, he retreats and takes his swollen lips with him — latching onto your neck and weaponizing his teeth against it. you gasp, your angel’s song tipping out into the rose garden while your fingers tangle in silver-moon locks and let him work against you, claiming you just below the neckline of your dress where no one will be able to see. 

except for maybe your fiancé and only god knows how you’ll be able to explain the marks to him tonight. ‘oh you know me, suguru. i’m way too clumsy for my own good.’ you’ll say, all while thinking about how the man after your crown blew your back out at your engagement party. 

you know why satoru’s acting such a fool — taking risks that he wouldn’t normally. the dress you’re wearing, the colour of his eyes, drives him fucking insane. you can’t say that you didn’t ask for this, like it wasn’t on purpose. 

“can’t fucking stand you,” gojo groans against your skin, nose pressed to your collarbone as he inhales the candied notes of your perfume. “been giving me those angel eyes all day. knowing that i can’t take my fucking eyes off of you when you wear that colour, princess.” 

he’s insufferable, but here you find yourself at the mercy of his touch — offering up your body to satoru gojo like a sacrificial lamb as your back arches away from the tree and presses your chest into his eager strawberry tongue. it leaves a slimy track over your neck and dips between the cleavage of your dress while gojo makes his descent down to hell — tasting the shimmering crystals of salt on your skin. 

satoru gojo belongs on his knees. 

kneeling before you with the royal blue tule of your dress between his shaking hands. you can tell he’s trying not to rip it off of you. born to worship you.  mirth weighs down his lashes and desire dances between the navy blue flecks in his sapphire eyes — he needs you so bad it might kill him. from this position he can practically smell how turned on you are, he’d recognise the mouth-watering aroma of your drooling cunt anywhere, slick gathering in the crotch of your barely there panties. 

there’s a depraved, royal treasure hidden between the string of fabric that runs between your juicy pussy lips — swollen and waiting to be devoured by your enemy. not that you’d ever admit that to him. “i think you should be referring to me as your queen.” you manage between ragged breaths, satoru eyeing the way your chest heaves from beneath the bust of your dress. 

instead of responding, his head unceremoniously dips beneath your skirts and he drags a thigh over the width of his broad shoulders. “watch your mouth,” the lord purrs salaciously as he licks up your inner thigh, the vibrations shooting straight to your swollen clit. “let’s remind you of who’s really in charge.” the both of you feel it, the aching throb of your pussy against gojo’s lips as he wedges his face right between your thighs. you can’t help but grind against him in wanton, desperate to be filled up with fingers, tongue whatever your sworn enemy has to offer up to the crown. 

but your warmth and wetness does nothing to coax satoru into tongue fucking his way past your clenching, creaming entrance. rather, he draws his head back just a touch and rubs at your cunt like he loves you, dips his fingers just into your quivering hole and then — smack !

juices run down satoru’s arms as if he’s taken a bite into the fruit that tempted eve while he laughs in awe of just how fucking sloppy you are between your thighs. the spank to your puffy folds makes you jolt in surprise, causing you to scratch your back against the jagged tree bark. 

“gojo!” you squeak in warning as your thighs close around his veiny hand. 

he sticks his tongue into his cheek, smirking in amusement before prying your shaky legs apart. “that’s not quite right, try again for me, princess...” gojo repeats the process, running between your slick folds and spanking you against them when you fail to respond. “you know my name, baby. c’mon it’s easy, i’ll even say it with you. d…d…” 

you refuse to stoop so low, to let demeaning words escape from underneath your tongue but not having satoru’s mouth on you is like torture — just his breath against your cunt is akin to dangling a carrot in front of a starving horse. you know what that pleasure is like, you crave it and you’re not above begging no matter how royal you may be. 

“f-fuck, daddy!” you whinge defiantly, screwing your eyes shut and letting your head fall back against the tree. satoru wastes no more time then, slotting his hot mouth against the entire length of your silken slit. the first thing he does is moan, the vibrations shooting twinges of ecstasy from your clit through the rest of your body and even reaching your head — making the world around you spin. 

the tip of his tongue teases its way past your entrance, squirming around to brush up against pleasure spots your little fingers can’t even reach. “that’s right princess, knew you could do it. you’re not just some stuck up little girl.” the white haired lord praises, drawing back from your quivering hole — connected to you by a string of your glistening slick. 

“shut up, just… put your mouth to good use.” you grunt, your hips canterint down onto gojo’s face to keep him quiet. your fingers take root in his silvery moon locks, dragging the man and his pink tongue onto your sex once more. gojo takes the hint, making your cute little clit his next victim as he rolls it between perfect rows of pearly whites and sends your eyes into the dark depths of your skull. 

the sinful and salacious sensation provides a welcomed distraction from your responsibilities as the crown princess. if your grandmother could see you now, you know that all she’d feel is disappointment— especially if she knew her granddaughter was fucking the biggest threat to the crown. and suguru, your poor fiancé — he was probably stuck mingling with guests he didn’t even know, looking for your eyes in the crowd like he always did. 

shame should be burning through your veins, not the white hot trickle of desire that you’re filled with as satoru slurps your juices from between your fat pussy lips. the needy groans he lets out against you inch down your spine, drown you in stormy waves of lust and you find yourself addicted to the bob of gojo’s head from underneath your tule skirts. you’re just so wet, pouring the royal family’s riches, liquid gold straight into the man’s greedy mouth as he drinks you in.

your nectar glazes his cheeks and chin in a devilish shine, brighter than the crown set to sit atop your head — his mouth barely parts from your ravaged and swollen romping as if he’s married to eating you out, tongue licking you up and down before your juices even have a chance to drip to the ground. you can only imagine what would happen if the press found out, your life would be over and so would satoru’s. but you don’t care, because every second that gojo spends between your thighs dragging you to orgasm is worth it. every single time. 

he grips at your ass, pulling you back onto his tongue as it flickers in and out of you. the whole ordeal is disgusting and delightful and you never want it to end. pleasure mounts high within you, evident in the shakiness of your gripes and grouses, lust laden in its tune. 

“s-satoru…satoru. i’m gonna… g’na fuckin’ cum!” a high pitch squeal tears in your throat like music to gojo’s ears — now working relentlessly to get you off just like you need. he doesn’t care if he’s suffocating, at least he’ll die a happy man between the thighs of a princess. 

he chuckles against your sex. “such a dirty mouth for such a proper lady.” the lord says as if he’s a scolding you.

but you can barely hear him, for static rings in your ears as your body loses the war to your orgasm. your release bubbles up on his tongue like the fresh pop of champagne, while your brain fizzles and clears itself of all logical thought. guilt is replaced by bouts of lust, making you realise that this cycle of avoiding and fucking gojo will never end. you’re too addicted to him and he’s too obsessed with you, as long as things remain that way — sex with him will always be on the agenda. 

you can’t promise yourself, your grandmother or suguru that this will be the last time. 

dopamine dances across gojo’s brain as he drinks in the tangy-honey flavour of your release, letting it splatter against his puffy lips as they encircle your clit to prolong your orgasm. you gush as if you’re a rushing erotic river, spilling into satoru’s earnest mouth while he licks you clean with wanton.

“look at that… oh look at you. cumming for me already.” 

“f-fuck you.”

“fuck me?” he smirks, making your gut lurch with wanton. “fuck you. i’m the one that’s working on it, princess.” satoru slowly rises to his feet, licking a nasty spit-slicked trail from your hole to the cleavage peeking out from underneath your dress. he doesn’t even stand to his full height, his large frame towering over you as he yanks down the front of your dress to lick and suck and play with your breasts until you can’t tell what’s up or down anymore.

his perfect teeth graze a pert nipple which makes you gasp and cry, loosely looping your arms around satoru’s neck while his ravaging mouth works your sensitive breasts, even going as far to swipe his tongue over the spot where each one meets your ribcage. he doesn’t leave any marks, you’re not his to keep. large and rough hands replace the warmth of his mouth on you to toy with your mounds of flesh — pinching and pulling as satoru kisses you senseless. you groan at the taste of your slick on his tongue and salt of your skin as well, tugging him closer so that there’s no space between your heated bodies. 

“don’t cry,” satoru comments softly against your swollen, cherry-bitten lips — cupping your face between his fingers. blinking slowly, you allow your frenzied brain the chance to catch up to reality  and you don’t realise the tears that wet your cheeks until he points them out. why are you even crying? “you’re too pretty for that.” his compliments do nothing to clear the lustful, confused fog settling over your mind like a dark cloud so you follow your body’s instincts and reach for the metal clasp on his belt. 

nimble fingers make their way down the front of gojo’s dress pants and he hisses at the quick pumps of his perfectly hard cock before you’re dragging up your skirts and guiding him towards your entrance. “baby, wait—“

you push his pants down enough to let his erection spring free, pulsing with need and standing at full mast against the cotton blouse covering his tummy. “i need you.” you sniff, dropping your panties to your ankles. “please.” 

the thing about sex with satoru is that it never feels like just sex. he tenderly hikes the meat of your thigh over his slender hips, lets his dribbly, sticky cockhead twitch forward and ease past the salaciously slick barriers of your empty hole, and presses your bodies so close together that you think you might forget how to breathe. satoru makes love to you each and every time — and it’s terrible. 

like eating too much sugar or indulging in a bad smoking habit. you’re not supposed to be in love with him and the way he fucks up into you, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis even with all of the fabric in the way. “don’t cry for him, f-fuck,” the both of you look down, your pupils dilating at the sight of your pussy swallowing his lengthy shaft whole — catching on the ridges of each blue vein spiralling around him. “cry for me, princess. i’m the one that’s ruining you.” 

with his forehead pressed to yours, silver hair matted down by the line of perspiration against it — satoru braces a hand against the tree above your head and sets stream to his passionate thrusts, fluid like water under a bridge. it’s not fair, how wrong this is and how good it feels to have gojo lick over the parts of you he would bite down on if you were his. your pulse point, your neck, the spot just under your ear that’s way too sensitive for your own good. it should be suguru fucking you like this, your fiancé. 

yet, there’s no room for self-loathing and despair between the rough tree and satoru gojo above you. nothing aside for the thick curtain of lust that protects you from prying eyes in the rose garden, floral scents twisting with the raw, aphrodisiac-like smell of sex and sweat while he pounds away at your swollen pussy, grinding his cock wetly against the sweet spots dotted along your ribbed walls. 

“i should put a baby in you,” he says suddenly, just barely audible over the wet pap, pap, pap of your sexes working together. embarrassment burns bright under the surface of your cheeks because you’re that wet and it’s that loud, the remainders of your previous orgasm making it easier for satoru’s cock to glide in and out of you. “leave you with a little gift. a present — reminder of our time together, yeah?” he knows that he’s not making any sense, leaving his confession behind sex and sultry words. he would never admit to how much he loves you, he’s already ruined you enough. he’s already taken more than enough from you too. “i’ll get to the crown either fuckin’ way.” 

satoru talks with his dick and you fucking like it, squeezing the damn daylights out of him. he can barely pull back with you locked down on like that, his seedy tip snug between your ruined folds — clinging into him by viscous ropes of your last orgasm and freshly formed globs of his white hot precum. “you like that, don’t you princess?” he coos down to you condescendingly, picking up the pace of his hips as he rams into you mercilessly. the tree shakes from the force, sprinkling pretty and innocent petals over you both. “you wanna make me a daddy? my queen? give me a little prince or princess.”

“fuck yes, satoru!” nodding your head with wanton, you press yourself into his neck and squeeze him close by the ass cheeks so the only place your lover can go is deeper. you want to be able to feel him in your guts, hot in your womb like an iron rod — anything to forget the trickle of betrayal filling you up like a glass of wine. “i want it, i want it…i want—“

you cut yourself of with an abrasive sob, as you moan your agreements. i want you. you feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drowned out by the slippery sounds of sex and creaking tree trunk. you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you’ve wanted satoru gojo.

but he’s the wrong person, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

“i know you do, i know,” you can feel gojo move to slobber over your chest, pacifying his whistle tone whimpers with your nipples bouncing in his mouth. he looks up at you with vacant cerulean eyes that shimmer like the skies above, the crude mix of your arousals slinging at the point at which your bodies join. “tell me how much you love daddy’s cock, princess.” 

he goads because he craves your attention. satoru can feel you slipping from between his fingers, the guilt that rolls off of you in waves as he languidly rams into your cunt. he’s asking a lot of someone who’s too stimulated, too fucked out to speak — your tongue barely staying in your mouth. 

“sato—!”

“c’mon… answer me, fuck, there we go.”

that’s when he hikes you up in his arms, lifting you a little to feverishly thrust up into you — dragging you closer to another high. your nails dig deep into his taut ass, nudging his dick against your g-spot. suguru would never be this rough with you, would never want to fuck you so good that the pleasure hurts.

shaking your head, your eyes glisten but the denial doesn’t stop small streams of arousal from squirting out and webbing against gojo’s soft pubes. “i-i can’t! i don’t—“ satoru bites down on your nipple, hard, cutting through your train of blurry thought. “i love…h-him!” 

you love your fiancé, but you both know that’s a lie.

“yeah, sure you do. that’s why your pussy’s huggin’ my cock so tight. you don’t wanna let me go, baby.” even while he’s a mess for you, your rival still finds it in him to be such an egotistical prick. you can’t even tell him that he’s wrong, because you never ever want to be without satoru, without this immensely overwhelming feeling of ecstasy fluttering through your entire body. it’s all too much, he’s too much, stretching you wide and filling you with the love (and cum) you should be getting from suguru. 

thunder cracks above your head, lightning flashes through the trees as if the higher power up above is bearing witness — growing distraught at your sins. it’s not long before the heavens open up on you both and your sweaty, sex slicked bodies are doused in rain. but it doesn’t stop you, doesn’t stop satoru from dragging down your bottom lip to lovingly spit into your mouth. 

he kisses you as if it’s not enough, rocking his hips into you so he can bully your insides and mark them with his pre. “bet he’s lookin’ for you right now, hm? his precious wife to be…drenched in my cum ‘n drenched in the rain.” satoru heaves, letting the patter of the rain drown out the sound of his tightening balls slapping against your ass. “bet he wishes he could fuck you like i do.” 

you can’t tell if it’s the tears of guilt and longing or the rain that blurs your vision. “h-he doesn’t get to!” you cry like a dirty porn-star, hardly becoming of a soon to be queen. “o-only you!” 

“only me, hm? i’m flattered.” he seems elated, hiding his flushed face and happy smile in the junction between your neck and shoulder. his wet hair tickles your skin. “too bad he doesn’t know his princess comes used and abused between her pretty legs, huh?”

the rain is cold against your skin, seeping through your clothes, ruining your makeup — but the way satoru licks up your hot streaky tears and the droplets of water against your skin as if to sooth you… the way he does it fills you with warmth. 

your limbs become heavy from your water-logged clothes and exhaustion, your whole body slumped against satoru’s strength but you still manage to rake your nails down his back as if you can’t be any closer. gojo doesn’t let your hips run from his either.  his mind races, stuck on the idea of asking you to run away with him because he can’t just let you go back to geto. not again. 

he can’t let you marry someone you’re not in love with. 

it would be selfish of him to ask you to stay, even when you wrap your legs around him and have him plug up your tiny little hole with sticky white. he sees it in your eyes how much you care for him, even through the rain. he’s ruining you, from the inside out, knocking the crown from your head and he hates it.

“daddy loves this pussy,” he wishes for the moment to last forever, but you’re already so close — crying from every hole, suffocating his throbbing cock. neither of you can hold back. “he loves you. i love you.”

the confession nearly tears your world in two — but it’s all you need to hear before everything comes crashing down on you. “i-i love you!” you tell him, wailing the words loud and proud as you release on him for a second time, gushing obscene amounts against gojo’s tummy smooshed up on your clit. “sato—! satoru! cum with me, cum inside me!” scratching down his back and screwing your eyes shut, you tilt your head up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. 

the taste of salt on your cupid’s bow throws gojo over the edge too — his cockhead pours viscous white directly into your womb. “fuuuck, you’re so good princess…” and even though you know you should tell him to pull out, you don’t want him too. you want his baby, want his cum, want him always. even if that’s greedy of you.“fuckin’ take it…take all of me. all of that cum’s for you.” he slurs, beyond brainless.

lewd clapping noises echo between your bodies like the thunder up above as satoru fucks you through the rest of your highs, nose nudging your cheeks tenderly to soothe your tears. moaning, and crying against one another’s swollen lip. when his slow grinds come to a stop and your breathing recovers, the white haired lord gently sets you back in the ground — tenderly helping you to fix your drenched clothes back into place. 

your thighs are completely bruised and his back is completely torn up. the last marks you’ll ever leave with each other.

“so about—“

“we… we can’t do this anymore, satoru.” you say almost immediately, shaky as if you’re in the verge of panic. 

for the first time since you started doing this, sneaking off with one another, gojo notices the glint  on your ring finger. and you feel the very same weight of that ring. 

he shrugs you off, pulling up his pants and smirking. “that’s what you said last time—

“no satoru, i mean it now. we can’t.” it’s like you’ve come to your senses, realised the gravity of it all and what’s at stake. thirty days to get married, thirty days to become queen. “i’m going to become queen, your queen, in a matter of weeks and to do that i need to be married to him. i can’t mess this up. we have to stop.”

“but you don’t even want him,” he growls like a petulant child, roaring above the rain that cascades down on you both. “you want me. i want you. who gives a fuck about anything else?”

“duty gives a fuck! i have to marry him!”

throwing his hands up in defeat, satoru steps towards you, loud and intimidating, and you step back towards the tree. “you can’t even say his fucking name.” 

“his name is suguru geto and i will marry him because you forced me to.” you spit, going toe to toe with him — chest heaving but tight from your heart break. “if you and your stupid higher ups had just stayed out my way. maybe there could have been a chance for us. but they didn’t and here we are and duty freaking calls, gojo.” 

you storm off shortly after, be before he can see you cry again (for real this time). from his place hidden in the royal gardens, gojo watches sullenly as you approach your grandmother and fiancé — the elder queen disappointed in your current state and suguru clearly worried that the rain might make you catch a cold. 

the perfect alibi to cover up the fact that you’d just fucked satoru gojo. 

but the entire time, you never look back. 

you don’t even look at gojo — and  that’s how he knows you meant it. you always look back, always look for him in the crowd. 

the knowledge hits him like a strike of lightning. he’s royally fucked up — you’re marrying for the crown, all because of him. and there’s no room for loving when you’ve got the weight of the nation on your shoulders.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#୨୧ KINKTOBER 23’ #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk smut #satoru gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #gojo thirst #jjk thirsts #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork

[pizzacrustdisposal]

Thinking about how my tallest F/O is 10 feet tall??

#look I know I did that bc he’s an OC but #COME ON MAN #most of the ceilings in my house aren’t even 10’ high!!! #anyway I love the spooky bastard #pizzacrustdisposal

[evilminji]

You know what's my JAM?

Extremes being treated as the Serious Dangers they ARE, even when they aren't "oooh its a spooky Grey morality and BADness!" Extreme.

Like? No, people. ALL of them are bad. They are ALL face melting dangerous. The void may crush your soul, but look upon the Face Of GOD? Not gonna be having a fun time! Doesn't MATTER if he's a cool dude! Face melting!

We are creatures of BALANCE. Tiny, fragile, little motes of dust. That can only exsist in the careful, blended, dances of territories and powers that be. We squishy.

Ghosts? Less squishy.

Poor impulse control, too. Especially ones with Fenton genetics. ABSOLUTELY ones with Fenton genetics and a trauma based aversion to therapy. That one? Pretty hardy. Made pretty tough, what with being Fates third favorite chew toy. But? Still gets the Sads, you know? The slightly longer then just seasonal depression.

Would medicine and some therapy help? Oh like a dream!

If medicine WORKED on his Ectoplasmicly contaminated ass. And he TRUSTED therapists.

But... surely, Danny thinks, as he sits grossly in his Depression sweatpants and eats suspect pizza on the floor of his moldering shoebox of an apartment, there must be SOME way to address his Depression? He should... he should DO something about it. Take a break maybe. Look up some ghost doctors or something.

.....

Oooooooooor..... >.>

He could break out that OMENIOUS af, bound in suspect leather, Big Book Of Forbidden Knowledge(TM) that he got from Pariah's.... what, fourth? Fifth? Library? Fuck that Lair is huge. He's STILL cleaning it out and it's been over half a decade. He swears it spawns more floors just to mock him. Bastard. Don't know HOW a building can be a Bastard, but it sure found A WAY.

Anyway!

Book it is! *horrifying Eldritch light as he opens it* huh. Neat. Comes with its own visual effects. *another bite of suspect pizza* Funky.

And so! Danny, the depressed King Of The Zone... fucks of to go cheer himself up in the Fields Of Bliss(TM), an area of Absolute Bliss. Which! Sounds GREAT in theory, now don't it? Lovely even.

Remember that little comment about extremes?

You can ENTER those fields. But no one leaves. No one CAN. The deeper you go? The more doomed you become. Less will to do anything at all. Eat, talk, move. So much as think. Like ALL extreme "Goods", it sounds lovely, but the reality is no gentle little thing.

It's a glue trap.

But how could Danny have known? Honestly, who would have TAUGHT him? Textbooks can only go so far, after all. And placing blame will not rescue the young monarch.

I imagine it's one of his helpers that pieces together what's happened. Come for further clarification on WHERE exactly he wants certain statues moved. Only? Your Majesty? Your Majesty...? Where ever could he BE? Oh? He's left out some of his books. Well, I'll just assist by putting them away for-.....

Oh.

OH ANCIENTS, NO.

But! What can the poor man DO? Ghosts are Beings of Will, Emotion, and Obsession. Were it some sort of Holy Blade or Sentient Tree, you know, something INDIVIDUAL with a will they could FIGHT? Oh no problem. But an area of effect? Especially an EMOTIONAL area of effect!? Ooooooh, this is bad. The Zone can't AFFORD to lose ANOTHER King!

We JUST GOT THIS ONE!!!

Wait. He's heard that there's an organization for this! That loudly cursing fellow who got violently thrown back into the Zone. "Ruined his fun" and all that! Perfect! He'll just hire THEM!

Smashcut? To a nice, peaceful, everybody's screaming Justice League Meeting. John's cursing life, extremely hungover. Zatana still has three cracked ribs. Wonder Woman is enjoying the new sword she... liberated... mid battle. Truely stunning craftsmanship. When?

Knock Knock!

Heads swivel. There... is a glowing green... accountant? Dandy? Dandy accountant. With an equally radioactive day glow green Actual Pirate's Chest Of Treasures, floating next to him. In the void of space; Just beyond the glass. What, the, fuuuuuu-

He seems to be under the impression they are some sort of Heroic mercenaries. And has come to request the retrieve-

"NNNNNOPE! Pariah can SHOVE it!" Snarls a suddenly very awake John Constantine, sitting up straight for the first time in hours. The rest of Dark grimly nod in agreement. Let the fucker rot. It's a kinder fate then he deserves.

No, no, NO! King PHANTOM! Pariah's SUCCESSOR by right of combat! They are not, and were never, allied in any way!

Well, all right then. Road trip to save a young idiot then.

@the-witchhunter @hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @mutable-manifestation @nerdpoe

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #minji's writing

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: the beard is blue

Anna Biller: submitted for the approval of the midnight society, i call this the tale of bluebeard's castle Mary Shelley: sup fuckers? Shelley: you telling a gothic story here? Biller: it's not gothic, it just uses classic story telling elements of gothic Biller: it's its own original thing Shelley: oh yeah yeah i'll be the judge of that Shelley: seein' as i invented gothic and all Biller: it's not gothic, it just uses classic-

Biller: it's not like angela's bluebeard story Biller: very different Biller: but let me explain angela's story in detail Biller: blow by blow Biller: for pages

Biller: this woman goes to a spooky secluded manor Biller: like daphne du maurier's rebecca Biller: with a brooding aristocratic husband Biller: like Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights! Biller: and she has a sweet heavenly voice Biller: like urkel!

Biller: this part of my story is a reference to Jane Eyre Biller: you guys might not have heard of it, its pretty obscure Biller: don't worry, i'll just grind the story to a halt so that i can describe jane eyre Biller: and this bit is a reference to dracula Barker: oh my god its like gothic ernest kline Poe: clive, be nice

Biller: anyway eventually she kinda just putters around until her brooding husband poisons her Biller: and there was nothing she could do to avoid it Biller: real girl boss hours

Shelley: what, she just gets poisoned? Shelley: couldn't be me Shelley: if i was there, i would have shivved that bastard but good Biller: UM no actually Biller: that wouldn't work! Biller: there's a whole concluding chapter about how stupid you, the reader, are for thinking she escape Shelley: rip to her but i'm different

Biller: so what do you think? Mary Shelley: i like the bit where you just repeated angela's version Poe: clive Poe: no wait i mean Poe: mary Angela Carter: no no i can see why she might like that part

Biller: the important thing about my work is to know that women and men should stay in their lanes and follow the strict rules of their gender Patricia Highsmith: poison's a broad's thing Biller: excuse me?! Highsmith: that's how a dame does a murder Highsmith: a real man does a murder with his hands Biller: Highsmith: or a boat oar

Highsmith: see, my ripley- Biller: oh god again with the ripley Biller: always with your OC patricia! we're all tired of hearing about your OC! Shelley: no patricia's right, killing a guy with a boat oar is cool Shelley: poison's sissy shit Shelley: i like how ripley does all those murders Shelley: fucker's got style Highsmith: that's what i've been saying!

Anna Biller: see, Bluebeard's castle is all about how men are men (evil) and women are women (stupid) Biller: as opposed to the love witch, which was about how men are men (stupid) and women are women (evil)

#midnight pals #the midnight society #midnight society #edgar allan poe #clive barker #mary shelley #anna biller #patricia highsmith #angela carter

[bonchobrick]

(angst alert !! death + slight blood tw !!)

Tim is stuck in a sticky situation and has to call a certain 'spooky' friend for help.

Jason would probably call him a dumbass for trying to do something so stupid. Well, atleast thats what Tim thinks Jason would do, he isn't for sure though, he isn't certain.

Because Jason's laying on the ground with a flat pulse and he wont be giving him any answers anytime soon.

---

“Don' look so weird replacement, its just anoth’r day in gotham.” His brother slurs with the slight quirk of his lips

"Jason don't fucking do this to me!" Tim hisses tears cursing his eyes

And Jason, oh that bastard—bleeding out on the pavement and in Tim’s arms sends him his classic beaming Robin Smile. 

"Love ya' little bro take care of yo'rself, kay?" he says eyes fluttering

"Jay," Tim cries, "You dick."

For all the joy and hope and belief his smile conveyed for the first time in a long time—his red blood muddled what should’ve been such a nice sight. Tim held him on the pavement with someone yelling on the comm mic on the floor that he just can’t bother trying to pay attention to. 

The pavement is cold. The air is cold. His brother is cold. It’s all so cold tonight. 

All the younger boy does close his eyes and slowly, In. Out. In. Out.

He lets himself breathe for a minute. Lets the horror wash over him. Lets himself absorb what just happened,

Then he gets back to work. 

Like a switch his brain is back online running at a hundred miles an hour–what is the best scenario, what should I do when my brother's wrist is limp and his eyes are shut, what do I do if he’s dead again, what can i do, how can I Fix. This.

Thoughts cloud his mind, whirring around his head like layers and layers of messy documents has just been dumped on his desk and he’s shuffling through them panicked trying to find the right file because its somewhere here, there is something and he just needs to sort. it. out. And–

Then it all becomes clear. 

His desk is back to clean and stationary. All of the papers are gone back into neat piles in neat manila folders, stored away in tidy filing shelves–

Everything is gone aside from one little yellow sticky note in the center of the desk.

“Well, Jay?” Tim chuckles with a cracked voice, “Second times the charm right?”

In his mind, at the center of it all, on a yellow sticky note lies the words in green ink: ‘Contact The Ghost King.’

Slowly he shifts and with a loud grunt he lifts up Jason, “Up we go!”

“--im? Why do you have Red Hood’s Comm–Tim what happened! Tim!” the comm speaker plays faintly in the background of his head, “Tim! Whatever you’re thinking off doing, don’t!” someone Tim can’t think about hisses

Tim hums absentmindedly towards the mic, almost automatically, “Don’t worry Babs, I’ve got it covered.”

Walking away from the roof he thinks to himself, I wonder where Jason would wanna wake up? Perhaps his apartment? Yea, i think that would go well by him–let’s head to the apartment.  

And just like that Tim leaves a crime scene—shuffling away with a dead body over his shoulder and a plan.

“Jay,” Tim murmurs to the corpse on his shoulder, “You’re really gonna hate this, but i’m doing this for you anyways cause I love you. So dont be too hard on me when you wake up okay asshole?”

Tim stumbles off into the stairwell making his descent and sometime as he walks away Barbara faintly catches him on the comm saying

“-Your gonna love Danny and making your lame 'im a dead guy' jokes with him man .”

#(Aka i wanted to write brothers jason and tim fic featuring Danny as the resident unemployed friend) #tim hates jason #he loves jason #siblings r silly like that #tim through sobs: *sniffles* im a bad bitch ive got work to do #what follows is tim pleading with the most heartfelt words for him to bring jason back and danny is like lol okay #was this all made to reference that one line in robin 1993 annual 7 #yes. yes it was. #ill add the comic panel soon bc oo that line mmmm #girl dinner #danny doesn't control life or death. but! #tim: please bring my brother back i know that is such a hard request to ask you but-- #danny making grilled cheese: not really hes supposed to be alive anyways dude no biggie #tim whose been begging and sharing his whole life story on the floor for the past 30 minutes: what #this is a fic in which tim spends another absurd amount of time bringing back a 'dead' relative (jason is dead but like tim's like no) #and danny is just with him the whole time hanging out and showing him wild shit as the helps revive him #dc x dp #dp x dc #jason todd #tim drake #danny is a little shit #danny phantom #there are so many tags #i swear i write more story in here than in the actual post... #angst #sorry #its literally kinda cracky though #just a bit more 'character analysis-y' than i usually share w u guys #kinda funny how this is dc x dp but danny is just like only hinted in this scene (he is literally in every other scene) #OH BY THE WAY ITS BEEN AWHILE hi

[hush-writes-preg]

I imagine myself being the town's coming-of-age virgin and being offered to the devil in exchange for the prosperity of the town. Every week i got tied up for the devil to use me for its pleasure until i was with its huge offsprings. It was then that i got offered to the devil every night, letting it feast on my body to its heart's content. Every night, i got fucked till i passed out.

It was that one night when the devil breaks my water. It was tradition that the sacrificer will be tied until the baby is born and the sacrificer are not to give birth without the devil's presence. So, i was in labor for the entire day. The entire town all could see my naked laboring form. The guards were put to see and stop me from pushing.

Finally, the night came. I had never been more glad because i was finally be able to push. But the devil had another plan. It enjoyed tormenting me and hearing me scream as it fucked me over and over again, reminding me how i got knocked up with its huge bastards.

You'd been a little hesitant to be the next fertile 'sacrifice' at first, never having known the touch of a man before, but the devil's enthusiastic attention quickly cured you of that.

Eventually, much to no one's surprise but your own, the devil's potent seed germinated in your womb. Even then it continued to fuck you in front of the entire town on a weekly basis, driving into your quickly-swelling body until coherency melted beneath the onslaught of pleasure and you were little more than a senseless, screaming whore.

Until the night came when its punishing cock broke your water and sent you into labor.

Seemingly pleased by the torrent of fluid that gushed from your body, your devil lover dumped you back onto the altar with a cry of victory. You couldn't figure out why, at least not until the townsfolk approached to tie your outstretched hands to the far corners while they bound your legs together.

You lay there through the following day with your friends, family, and neighbors passing by to watch you twist and scream from the torments of unproductive labor. The devil had decreed that its property could not give birth unless it was present, and no amount of begging and pleading from you would convince them otherwise. Even the guards ignored your cries, coming every now and then to tighten the bonds around your legs so you didn't come free.

Finally, the night came. You nearly cried in relief at the thought of finally being allowed to push, but after slicing open the bonds holding your legs together, the devil promptly mounted you. You wailed as it forced its way into your channel, stuffing your laboring cunt to its limits. "That's right-- scream for me, little human," it laughed in its dark, echoing voice. "Show everyone how much you love being filled with my huge offspring. Perhaps, if you're enthusiastic enough, I'll let you spread your legs and whelp my children before they grow... impatient."

(A belated Spooky Season response.)

#hush answers #halloween pregnancy #hush writes preg #monster breeding #demonic breeding #demonic pregnancy #monster pregnancy #birth denial #dubcon

[jamieedlund]

"Aim for the neck, am I right?"

🎃Very late spooky season doodle! 🎃 I have been very sick but I really love Halloween and slasher movies so this is what came up. Enjoy my October brainrots and Merry Christmas.

Aaravos you don't get to be scared you are his mentor you bastard of a man--- I also would like to point out that people are stubborn and things like this aren't completely out of place for the elves and dragons to do and the reason why Callum cursed out "and they call you evil" was because he's now dealing with the consequence of their war crimes. It's like the pot calling the kettle black.

Extra unrelated doodles

Because they make me happy💜🧡

#my art #the dragon prince #aaravos #callum #tdp #doodle #tdp aaravos #tdp callum #and back to being dead I go #I actually cannot work as fast as I wanted to #because I'm constantly in pain #I hope everyone had a nice october #thank you for being patience and for all the kind messages #I promise I will get to them eventually #seriously tho I love spooky season #autumn is my favorite time of the year

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

A Dead Man & his Raven

Chapter 2

Note: happy spooky season! this fic is inspired by The Crow, Sihtric being based on Eric Draven. Follow up to Chapter 1. Several quotes from the movie and comic are used in the following chapters, they are marked bold, as they are not my own. I was often interrupted while proof reading this chapter, so ignore any errors :)

Warning for entire series: 18+! angst/fluff. this story deals with death, losing a loved one, depression, suicidal thoughts/attempts (no details), murder (described), violence. There is also a lot of fluff, but you have been warned.

Warnings for this chapter: angst/fluff. mention of death, murder, fright, drugs, blood.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: You were reminded of your first kiss with Sihtric.

wordcount: 4,3k

Masterlist

'I promise you're safe with me.'

The dead don't carry keys, Sihtric thought as he searched his pockets, but they fucking should.

He snickered at his own thoughts after he had finally stumbled his way home, where he realised he couldn't get in. He looked down at his hands, finding them completely healed again. No more blood, no more cuts. And he scoffed, then looked up at the sky.

You gave me the ability to heal from my wounds but you forgot to give me a key to my home? Nice one, Odin. Now what?

He looked around the empty street, the only movement being water that ran down into the sewer, and then he looked back at the front door.

I could ring the bell, Sihtric thought, and a grin appeared. Ding-dong! Hello, angel, your murdered fiancé is home again! Did you miss me? His grin fell off his face slowly, for hurt and despair to take over. Because I have missed you, my love. He closed his eyes, clenched his jaw and inhaled deeply as he recalled your face. I have missed you with every fibre of my entire being. If I wasn't already dead, I would have killed myself single-handedly over and over again, because living without you is unbearable. He angrily kicked at the door. Don't worry, love, I can't die twice I've been told. But I swear I will kill every single fucking bastard who did this to us. He kicked the door again. I will kill every last man who broke us up, before we could even vow to not let death do us part. They're dead, my love. They're all dead. They just don't know it yet. He kicked the door again, harder this time, as his tears fell down with the rain.

'They're all fucking dead!' Sihtric growled, and kicked the door open with force.

The neverending nightmare.

More or less recovered from your breakdown after work, you managed to continue your drive home. You ran up to your front door, through the pouring rain, and when you wanted to stick your key in the door, you saw it had been breached open. You looked around you, but there was not a sight of anyone nearby. The street may be empty, you thought, but it was still Devil's Night. The night on which people commit petty crimes as well as serious crimes, such as murdering your fiancé last year, because the cops can't be everywhere at once. Therefore, you also knew that calling the police would not be of any help right now. A simple house robbery was not of importance on a night like this.

With trembling hands you pushed the door further open and you quietly stepped inside. You waited in the dark hallway for a minute, but didn't hear a single sound, apart from the violent rain outside. You walked down the hallway and, before reaching the door to the living room, you carefully took an umbrella from underneath the coat rack. Armed with your pathetic weapon of choice, you then kicked the second door completely open with force.

'If anyone is here I swear I will bash your fucking head in!' you shouted, holding the umbrella tightly in your shaky hands.

While breathing heavily, you once again waited for any kind of sound or movement as you looked around the pitch black room. And again, apart from the rain, it was quiet and there was no movement. Until a sudden voice scared you half to death.

'You would bash my fucking head in with that umbrella, my angel?' the voice said, and a soft chuckle followed, 'an angel of death you would truly be.'

Your heart skipped numerous beats at the familiar voice; your favourite voice, which sound you had missed so desperately. The umbrella fell out of your hands and you immediately turned to switch on the lights, only to stare into a cold, empty room.

'What the fuck!' you breathed, eyes wide.

You exhaled sharply after a few long secons and let out a laugh, which turned into a sob as you realised you had imagined Sihtric's voice. You already were afraid you would start imagining and hearing things around the first anniversary date of his death, but this had seemed so real. It truly scared you and made you even more upset than you already had been. You kicked at the umbrella in front of you and, when you turned back to the hallway, suddenly one cold hand grabbed your chin as the other covered your mouth to silence you.

And you stared up into Sihtric's mismatched eyes.

'Please do not be frightened of me, angel,' Sihtric said fast, but calm, hoping you weren't going to scream. Or punch him in the face.

Your eyes grew even wider, and Sihtric removed his hands after a moment, taking a step back.

'N-no,' you whispered, fear and near insanity laced your voice, and you stumbled backwards into the hallway, landing hard on your behind with a soft cry.

'No,' you then chuckled, 'this isn't real,' you said while crawling backwards. 

Your nails scratched at the wooden floor, and your wet shoes squeaked while desperately trying to get away from whatever your imagination was projecting right now.

'Darling,' Sihtric said, and he crouched down, reaching out with his pale, trembling hand.

'No!' you screamed and covered your face with your hands, crying as you shook your head, 'leave me alone! This isn't real! This isn't real!' you shouted, pulling your own hair as you kept your eyes closed, rocking back and forth in the corner of your hallway.

'Shh, shh,' Sihtric hushed you, and cupped your cold, trembling hands with his own, stopping you from trying to tear your hair out. 

'Listen to me-'

'No!' you cried out, terrified, backing yourself up further into the corner, but there was no escape from this nightmare blended dream.

'Listen to me!' Sihtric said again, compassionate but firm, 'it's real. I am real,' he slowly pulled your hands away from your face and cupped your cheeks. 'Look at me,' he whispered, 'look at me, please,' and at last, his voice broke under the pressure of his own emotions, 'I need you to look at me, angel,' he said with a sob.

Your body trembled as you slowly opened your eyes, teardrops stuck to your eyelashes, blurring your vision when you finally dared to look at Sihtric, who then sat back, giving you space as you rubbed your eyes free of tears as much as possible. 

Sihtric, who was not a figment of your imagination, was actually truly there. Your dead fiancé. He was there. Kneeled down right in front of you, staring at you with his big, teared up eyes as he took in every inch of your face.

'I… I… don't… unders-s-stand,' you nearly panicked.

'I will explain,' Sihtric said, 'but, please… just,' he inhaled sharply as tears started to roll down his cheeks, 'p-please just hold me, please,' his trembling hands reached out to you again, 'I'm so… so cold. I've been so cold without you. I need to- to feel you, please?'

And then, without thinking or having any doubt in your mind, you wrapped your arms around him. You tightly held the man who had your undying love. You breathed in the familiar scent of the man you thought you would never see again. And you both cried as you held each other, down on the floor, hiding in the corner of your hallway, while the wind outside howled and the rain came crashing down.

'Sihtric?' you said with a soft sob.

'Please,' Sihtric whispered, and his cold hands took your face again, 'please, kiss me,' he breathed.

And your lips found those of the man who had taken your heart with him to his grave, after his own heart had stopped beating, exactly one year ago, at the corner of the street you still lived on. And you suddenly remembered your first kiss.

Love at first sight.

Many, many moons ago, you met Sihtric for the first time at your local concert venue. His band, Hangman's Joke, had finished their set about half an hour ago and they already packed up all their gear, which one of their members had loaded in a van before taking off. 

It was your first time hearing and seeing the band, but you enjoyed it, and you couldn't deny that the guy who was the lead guitarist as well as the lead singer, was as cute as he was hot. He was dressed in black leather boots, black leather jeans and a black shirt which had tears and holes in it. He was very muscular, and you had to stop yourself from staring the entire time. He was almost ghostly pale, truly nailing the whole gothic look, without even seeming to try. His dark, shoulder length hair was wild, but not in a neglected kind of way. He had a well kept goatee, which told you this guy clearly took care of himself, unlike most so-called underground rockstars you knew of. You definitely enjoyed the amount of eye contact you had with him during his performance, and to your pleasant surprise, you suddenly found him standing next to you. When you looked up, he was already gazing at you, leaning on the bar while he smiled.

'Hey,' he said, with a faint hint of shyness, 'may I buy you a drink?'

You tried to suppress your smile and rolled your eyes as you looked away for a second. Was this going to be a cheap pick up attempt? You weren't easy like that, but he was to die for, really. So you decided to test him.

'That depends. Do you always pick up girls after a show?' you asked, desperately trying to not be intimidated yet intrigued by his strong appearance.

'Oh, all the time,' Sihtric scoffed, clearly pretending to be offended, 'it's a hobby of mine to see how many I can get in my bed in one night.'

'I see,' you feigned being impressed, 'and how many are you expecting to land in your bed tonight?'

'Tonight? Just one,' Sihtric said with a cheeky half smile as he leaned in, 'just you,' he winked.

You couldn't help but laugh and blush at his words. He was obviously unserious about his "hobby", but there was truth in his last answer, you could tell.

'Very smooth,' you chuckled.

'Yeah?' he laughed, 'did I impress you by giving you merely a vague hint about my wild sex adventures after shows?'

'Almost,' you snorted, and couldn't get yourself to look away from his eyes as he smiled so sweetly at you.

There was something so sincere about him, so honest. There was again that hint of shyness in his smile, as the dimly lit venue couldn't quite hide his slightly flushed cheeks, which had reddened after you had smiled at him. He fidgeted with his rings, which told you he was a little nervous, or maybe high on drugs, you thought, but you noticed his pupils were rather normal. You also noticed his eyes were two different colours, and you felt you could easily get lost in those for hours. 

'I, eh, I'm Sihtric by the way,' he shyly smiled again and held his hand out to you.

'Hi,' you returned the shy smile as you took his hand and introduced yourself.

His tattooed fingers brushed over yours as he slowly let go, after holding on for just a second too long for it to be meaningless.

'So,' he smacked his lips, 'can I buy you that drink?'

'Perhaps,' you grinned, 'what's the catch?'

Sihtric furrowed his brow and puckered his lips.

'Hm,' he hummed softly as he went over his thoughts, 'the catch is that you'll have to tell me one thing you love about yourself, and one thing you hate about yourself.'

'Oh?' you chuckled, truly impressed this time that a guy for once didn't ask for a kiss or something like that, and you agreed to the deal.

Sihtric bought you a drink and followed you as you found an empty table in the busy venue bar.

'Well then,' Sihtric smiled and took a quick sip from his drink, 'tell me.'

'Okay,' you put your glass on the table and looked at Sihtric, 'I like-'

'No, no,' Sihtric interrupted you, 'I said love, not like. Tell me what you love about yourself.'

You chuckled and sighed softly as Sihtric rested his chin in the palm of his hand, leaning on the table while he sat across from you. The place was packed, but he looked at you as if you were the only person in the room.

'Fine,' you gave him a fake, mean glare, 'what I love about myself is… how loyal I am. Doesn't matter if it's friendships or relationships,' you said, 'I think it's a good trait.'

'It is a great trait,' Sihtric smiled while gazing at you again, 'hard to come by these days.'

'I guess,' you said shyly.

'But now the big question,' Sihtric said as he leaned back, raking his fingers through his hair, 'what do you hate about yourself?'

'Can I only mention one thing?' you grimaced, 'because I got quite the list-'

'Lady,' Sihtric hushed you and chuckled, 'one thing only.'

'Fine,' you huffed and crossed your arms, 'I hate my smile.'

'Your smile?' Sihtric nearly choked on his drink and punched his chest twice as he coughed, 'what are you talking about?'

'I just don't like my smile,' you shrugged, 'for no specific reason.'

'Well, look,' he held his hands up, 'I have to strongly disagree with you here, lady.'

'Okay,' you frowned, 'is this the moment you'll start the heavy flirting, praising me with compliments to lure me into your bed?'

'Actually,' Sihtric said with a grin, leaning in closer over the table, 'my place is a bit of a mess right now. So I kinda hoped I could lure myself into your bed.'

'And what's the catch if I were to agree to that?' you teased, leaning in too.

'The catch being,' Sihtric smiled softly, and he held your chin with his fingertips, 'that you have to promise me you will never believe those negative thoughts about yourself ever again. Because you notice how the thing you love about yourself has nothing to do with your appearance? And the one thing you hate…'

You stared at Sihtric, your cheeks flushed at his touch and his intense eyes locked on you. Then he sat back again, quickly finished his drink and jumped up.

'You want to get out of here?' he asked, smiling, and went to grab his skateboard.

Sihtric held your hand as you walked out of the venue, back to your place. It was pleasantly quiet out, the streets being empty as it was a sunday night. You had the day off tomorrow and the day after, so you had no plans of finding sleep early. The silence between you and Sihtric was a comfortable one, but you were curious about him, and even more curious about the skateboard he held in his other hand.

'You skateboard everywhere?'

'Most of the time, yeah,' he smiled.

'Really?'

'Yes, lady,' Sihtric chuckled, 'why? Do you?'

'No,' you snorted, 'never done it.'

Sihtric stopped walking and stared at you with a puzzled look.

'You never tried it?'

'No,' you shrugged, 'my balance is shit anyway-'

'Wanna try?'

'What?'

'Come,' Sihtric smiled, holding his hand out as he put his board on the ground, 'try it.'

'Oh, absolutely not,' you laughed and looked at the street ahead of you, 'I'll break my neck.'

'No you won't,' Sihtric laughed, 'come,' he beckoned you over.

With heavy feet you stepped closer to the pale, dark clothed man, and you took his hand. Sihtric chuckled when he helped you on the board, holding it in place by setting his leather boot in front of the wheels.

'No, no,' you giggled as you squeezed his hand, already feeling off balance, 'I'm scared to go off this hill.'

'Hill? You can't call this a hill. Don't be scared,' Sihtric smiled and circled his arm around your waist.

Then, he placed one foot on the board and pulled you closer against his body.

'Wait, what are you-'

'Shh,' he smiled, 'I got you.'

'No. What-'

'I promise I got you,' he chuckled at your surprised face, 'trust me. I won't let anything happen to you.'

Before you could say another word, Sihtric placed his other foot next to yours, and the skateboard slowly started to roll forwards, down the really not that steep street, but steep enough to make you cling onto him. And when you realised you truly weren't going to break your neck, you started to laugh at the quite exhilarating feeling. And Sihtric smiled at you whenever he wasn't looking down the road, and he swore he had never seen a more beautiful smile than yours.

'See,' Sihtric said when the skateboard came to a halt at the end of the street, 'told you nothing would happen to you.'

He helped you step off the board, back onto the concrete ground, where he immediately circled his arms around you again and pulled you in.

'I guess you were right,' you chuckled and looked up at him.

'I promise you're safe with me,' Sihtric whispered, 'always.'

He briefly brushed his lips lightly over yours, before he captured you in a soft, sweet kiss.

Sihtric hummed softly before he pulled away, lightheaded while his heart was beating out of his chest. And when he saw you smiled at him, he brought his lips back to yours again.

When you woke up in your own bed the next morning, a little sore, you felt yourself pout in silence when you noticed Sihtric was gone. It's not like you hadn't expected him to be anything more than a one night stand, so you weren't really surprised, but you had to admit you were a little disappointed. His flirting had been very effective, and he truly seemed different from any other guy you ever met, so you had some unfair expectation that he wouldn't just run off in the morning. But you also blamed yourself for it being a one night thing. You had not discussed your own intentions before you took him home. Or after you had moaned his name in the middle of the night, when he had his hand wrapped around your throat and his other cupping your cheek, while his forehead rested against yours and his low, heavy growl spilled down over your lips as your fingers were tangled in his messy hair. 

You sat up and searched for your underwear in your bed, when suddenly your bathroom door, which was across from your bed, flung open and Sihtric walked out, shirtless, only dressed in those tight, leather jeans while his damp hair was raked back with his fingers.

'Jesus fucking christ!' you yelled and pulled the blankets up to cover your breasts.

Not that he hadn't seen those before. He had actually done way more than just seeing those, you thought, and you felt your face heat up.

'Fuck!' Sihtric hissed and grabbed his chest, looking equally as startled as you.

'You scared me!' you half yelled.

'Shit. Sorry, angel,' he chuckled, 'I hope you didn't mind I took a shower,' he said a little shyly.

'What? No, no,' you shook your head, 'that's fine. I just… I didn't expect you were still here.'

'Oh,' Sihtric said, and his confidence left his body in an instant, 'I- I'm sorry,' you could see the sudden hurt in his eyes before he looked down at his feet, 'I didn't realise that... I-I should've known this was just a one night stand,' he mumbled and walked over to grab his shirt from the floor, which you had taken off of him the night before, and he put it back on, 'I'm really sorry if I overstayed my welcome. I- I should head home now anyway, I have a meeting soon. So-'

'No,' you interrupted him, 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just meant… I… I thought it was just a, you know, a quick and random fuck for you,' you said with flushed cheeks.

'Ah,' he clicked his tongue, and anxiously rubbed his hand over his chin, 'I'm sorry if I made it come off that way. That was truly never my intention,' he cleared his throat, 'but, eh, yeah, you know, I better get going anyway. Gotta change my clothes and get some quick food…'

'Let me make you breakfast,' you blurted out as Sihtric picked up his leather boots, and he stared at you.

'What?' he chuckled, then smirked, 'you want to make me breakfast?'

'What's your favourite flower?' Sihtric asked, his mouth stuffed with cereal as he ate like a wild boar, not having much time.

'What? Oh, uh,' you chuckled, 'uh, roses. Cliché, I know,' you rolled your eyes.

'I like roses. Roses are pretty,' he said and swallowed his food, 'pretty like you,' he smiled before he hovered the rest of his cereal, then jumped up.

'You had enough to eat?' you asked, watching him grab his short, leather jacket.

'Not quite,' Sihtric chuckled, 'but I really gotta go, sweetheart. I can't be late,' he picked up his skateboard and hopped back over to you to kiss your cheek, 'thank you though.'

'You're welcome,' you smiled, and just when Sihtric turned away, you pulled him back in for a kiss on his lips.

Sihtric froze for a second and dropped his skateboard. He smiled against your lips and gently cupped your cheeks, kissing you back, soft and slow. After a moment, which was way too short, you broke the kiss, knowing he had to run. You smiled at him when he suddenly got all shy.

'So, eh,' Sihtric blushed, 'c-call me?' he asked, cautiously, 'will you call me later?'

'Y-yeah,' you felt yourself becoming shy too, 'what time suits you? After your meeting?'

'I should be back home after five,' he said and picked up his skateboard again.

You nodded with a smile and promised to call him as you walked him to your door. He gave you a sweet, slightly awkward peck to your lips and then you watched him skateboard smoothly down the road. And only when you closed the door, and Sihtric left your street in a hurry, you both realised you didn't have his number.

You hoped that, since Sihtric knew where you lived now, he would come find you after his meeting. But you also couldn't help worrying that maybe he would have forgotten about you by the end of the day. The thoughts drove you mad, and it was only four in the afternoon when suddenly your doorbell rang and you jumped up. Half wanting it to be Sihtric, half trying to ignore that hope, so you wouldn't get your silly little heart broken over a guy you only just met.

You opened the door and, to your confusion, you were greeted by a large package.

'Will you please sign?' a young lady asked, holding a clipboard out to you.

'Ehh, but I didn't order anything?' you more or less asked.

'Is this your name?' she asked, and you took a closer look at the label.

'It is, but-'

'Then please sign.'

You raised an eyebrow in offence, but you were curious now and wanted to know what was in the box, so you signed. The box wasn't that heavy, but it was annoyingly shaped, so you could barely pick it up. After your struggle to get back into your living room, you quickly opened the package, and you smiled a little confused.

Roses. The box held a mixed bouquet of one dozen red roses, and one dozen black roses. Then, your eyes spotted a little note hidden in the bouquet, and you folded it open.

My angel, sorry I had to rush this morning. In my haste I forgot to give you my number.

Here's a small thanks for the breakfast… and the great sex last night.

Call me? x  

You couldn't fight your smile anymore and squealed when you found Sihtric's number on the back of the handwritten note. His flower delivery arrangement had caused him to be late to his meeting, but he couldn't let you slip out of his hands like that.

'I'm sorry I slipped out of your hands like that,' Sihtric sniffled as he held you tight, after he had scared you out of your mind by coming back from the dead.

After the first shock, he had carried you to bed, where he cuddled up with you, just like he used to before he died.

'I'm so sorry I left you just like that,' he whispered.

'I just don't understand,' you cried, 'how am I supposed to understand any of this? How… how are you here? How do I know I haven't gone completely fucking mental?'

'You haven't,' he said as he took your face, 'you haven't gone insane, I promise.'

'I just don't understand,' you barely whispered.

'I am here because my soul hasn't been able to rest since I died. Odin sent me back to make things right, so I can find my peace.'

'So… are you like… are you an angel?' you sniffled.

'No, love,' Sihtric chuckled and kissed your lips, 'I am too angry to be an angel.'

'I've missed you so much,' you sobbed and fell in his arms.

'I've missed you too,' Sihtric sighed, 'it's been so lonely without you, my love. But at least I could always see you.'

'What?' you leaned back and looked up at him, 'w-what do you mean?'

'The raven… at the window,' he whispered, 'he's my eyes and ears. And I… I see you cry every night, baby,' his voice broke, 'here, in our bed.' 

He moved his hand slowly over the soft sheets you were both under.

'Please,' Sihtric whispered, leaning his forehead against yours, 'don't. Don't cry for me, angel. You have to stop that, please. It's tearing me apart to see you hurt like that, when I can't hold you in my arms or kiss your tears away.'

'But I don't know how to live without you,' you teared up again, 'I don't want to live without you.'

'Shh,' he hushed you and pecked your lips, while you both cried and trembled in each other's arms again, 'I'm here now, okay?'

'Please… you... you can't,' your breath hitched,' please, never leave me again, Siht.'

'You have to understand, my sweetest love,' Sihtric whispered and softly caressed your cheek, 'that all of this is temporary.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

[aloysiavirgata]

I love reading other people talking about/observing Mulder and Scully. Please please!

“Gorgeous,” Kinsley says, two tequila shots and an amaretto sour in. “Both of them.”

Stonecypher rolls her eyes. “Weird,” she says. “But nice.”

“Gorgeous,” Kinsley repeats, dreamily. “Fox Mulder smells like an anthropomorphic regatta.”

Simon Trebbins gives him an odd look. “I don’t know what the fuck that means, Mike,” he says.

Kinsley waves his hand vaguely. “Sailboat wax,” he says, without clarifying. “Dry cleaners. Bay rum.”

Trebbins downs his vodka tonic. “I can’t believe we got cheated out of a weekend with the fuckin’ Spookies. Legends abound; I wanted stories for the grandkids one day.”

Stonecypher sniffs over a piña colada. “She’s tiny, I can verify that. You don’t realize it until she’s next to you and you feel like Godzilla in Tokyo. But a great rack. Amazing hair.”

“Lobster rolls,” Kinsley adds, unhelpfully. “Sun dried rope. Clean cotton.”

Stonecypher side-eyes her partner. “Jesus, Mike.”

Liz Clayton props her chin up on her hand. “Mothman,” she chuckles. “They actually believe that shit?”

Stonecypher, pleased to be playing the role of expert, considers this. “He definitely does,” she states. “I think she goes along. She’s got it bad for him but I think he’s got it worse for her. Heard he murdered some poor bastard when she had cancer, fucking hell.”

“Who can blame her?” Kinsley asks, like it’s a Zen koan. “Or him.”

Liz smirks. “I heard she fucked Jack Willis.”

“Good for Jack,” Simon laughs. “She’s really hot.”

Kinsley sighs into a Maker’s Mark on ice. “She really is.”

Simon laughs. “You gotta pick one, Mikey.”

“Why?”

There is no obvious answer to this.

“My husband went through the Academy with Walter Skinner,” Liz says. “Couldn’t pay me enough to have that man’s job. Wrangling the Spookies should come with hazard pay.”

Stonecypher guffaws. “Can you imagine trying to have a serious debriefing with those two? I mean I heard the rumors, everyone has, but Jesus Christ they were eye-fucking while Mike drove. I saw them in the rearview.”

Kinsley sighs deeply. “They really were.”

“Didn’t she shoot him once?” Trebbins asks.

“You gotta be talking about the Spookies,” says Rachel Ward, sidling up with a handful of peanuts. “And yes she did. And they worked with Luther Lee Boggs, and Mulder caught Props to boot. Not to mention John Lee Roche. Eugene Tooms. Donnie Pfaster. Have a little fucking respect.”

There is silence at the table then. A long silence that even Kinsley does not break.

Stonecypher raises her glass after a moment. “I guess I can spot the son of a bitch a Mothman or two,” she sighs.

They all clink their glasses then, respectful.

“Scully smells like jasmine,” Kinsley adds, unhelpfully. Wistfully. “And like an A on a calculus exam.”

#xf fanfic #xfiles fanfic #my fic #prompt #detour

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Like a Box of Chocolates

Word Count: 2,000 (I need to rethink my definition of short.)

Summary: Your best friend invites you over for Valentine's Day. Better to be lonely together, right? || Kol x reader|| Here lies my Masterlist ||

Warnings: Absolutely none, unless you count the sort of fluff that will melt your insides.

A/N: While I work on Rational Thinking part 4, have this drabble that I wrote last year and never posted. Won't Say I'm in Love from Hercules should be playing through your head on a loop by the time this is done.

💝 STORY BEGINS BELOW 💝

“Why, good afternoon, my dearest!” 

You would have been startled by the sudden appearance of your best friend, had you not been so used to him by now. Kol Mikaelson was a cheeky bastard and his fondness for seeing you jump had rendered his element of surprise non-existent. You rolled your eyes. 

“Hey, Kol.” Just managing to stow your books away before Kol pushed your locker shut, you re-adjusted your backpack and sent him a look. He leaned against the lockers, grinning at you as though he were simply happy to be there. The expression was bright and unusually sincere, it made you do a double take. “Oh, geez - he’s happy. That’s just frightening. Who’d you kill? Actually, nevermind that. What do you want from me?” You deadpanned, smirking. 

You didn’t think your best friend was capable of hurting a fly, however. True, the kid had a mischievous streak a mile long but you just couldn’t understand why other students seemed so afraid of him. Kol had never been anything but nice to you since the day you’d shown him around the school. Sure, you’d watched him beat the ever-loving crap out of one of the football players when the guy had catcalled you a while back, but that had been entirely deserved. Kol was a sweet, clever kid who, though he was certainly capable of being a social butterfly, preferred the company of just one or two really good friends. You were fortunate enough to have made it onto that list - along with Jeremy Gilbert. 

Kol huffed a laugh and slipped your bookbag off your shoulders in one smooth motion you weren’t entirely sure how he’d learned to do. You would have protested, but you’d long since quit trying. The guy was a gentleman that way.

“Valentines Day!” He announced as if it were obvious. He held your bag in one hand and wrapped his other arm around your shoulders.

“I think you mean -” You spread your arms wide as if presenting something to him - “Singles Awareness Day!”

Kol blinked. “Have you ever realized that the acronym for that just spells S.A.D?”

“I have indeed.”

He stared at you for a moment, then shook his head. “Whatever you call it, that’s today,” He said, smiling to himself.

You raised a brow. What was he so happy about? “Yes, I am aware it is the fourteenth day of February.”

He rolled and nudged you playfully. “Jeremy’s got himself a date - I want to know what you’re doing.”

Jeremy had a date? Huh. Go Gilbert. 

“I don’t know, Kol. You’re a smart cookie, why don’t you tell me?” You said, shrugging. 

“Alright.” He skipped ahead of you, walking backward. The boy stared at you with a mockingly contemplative look for a moment before snapping his fingers, having made his decision. “I deduce that you intend to come to my place for some friendly virtual combat, perhaps a few action movies, and the inordinate consumption of egregiously unhealthy foods.”

You tipped your head back and laughed. That kid knew you so well. “Spooky how you can read my mind like that.”

He grinned. “I am a man of many mysteries,” He declared.

“Right.”

In reality, you knew why he was inviting you over. You were his distraction and he was yours. Neither of you really liked Valentine's Day. That was one of the many things you could agree on. February fourteenth was just a painful reminder of what the both of you would never have - a meaningful and lasting relationship. Not even just a romantic one - the two of you had bonded over your bad luck with relationships in general. Between neglectful parents and - in his case - siblings, it would seem that to be loved in return was just too much for either of you to ask of the universe. 

Friends, however - friends you could do. Friends come and go, they have no obligation to provide you with lifelong love and support. It’s not a betrayal or a slight on their part when they fail to keep in contact after the two of you say goodbye that last time. That was how you liked it. No obligations - no contracts.

It was quite the pair the two of you made: the school F-Boy and Trust Issues Incarnate. (Yes, you were fully aware of the rom-com style cliché.) Yet, however unusual it was, Kol made you happy. He was one of the very few people you’d met who didn’t judge you for your bitter attitudes surrounding romance. The two of you were determined not to be sad today - there was no reason to be because you didn’t care anymore, or at least, that’s what you’d tried to convince yourselves. So even though Kol was cute - drop-dead gorgeous even - nothing was ever going to happen between you. In your experience - and you’d had quite a bit of it - there was no use in hoping otherwise. It just never led to anything good. Love wasn’t in the cards for either of you. The universe had just designed things that way. 

Valentine's Day is hard for the inherently unlovable. But you’d make do.

Kol gave you a ride from school, just like he did every day, though this time he brought you back to his apartment. Your parents wouldn’t notice - they never did.

Popcorn and video games came first. You agreed on Star Wars Battlefront, challenging him to a one-on-one fight. Kol got upset that you kept beating him. 

“I’m telling you, darling - playing as the bloody sniper is completely unfair!”

“Says the guy with the freaking gatling gun.”

“I can’t even get the thing spinning up before you’ve blown my head of!”

You just hummed, catching a piece of popcorn in your mouth. “That sounds like a skill issue.”

“You would say that… Cheat.”

So, you switched to Mario Kart. The two of you were pretty evenly matched until you got to Rainbow Road. Kol had been in second place the whole time then suddenly he hits the brakes and you have just enough time to wonder why the hell he would do that before your sorry ass is wiped off the map by a blue shell. You’re not a sore loser by any means but that boy had to be the sorest winner of all time. He only shut up when you threatened to leave. 

So you hunted down some ice cream and Kol dug through his rather impressive collection of movies for something that didn’t have a romance in it.

“Why does every decent film seem to require it’s main character’s to make love on screen!?” Kol griped, accepting the bowl of ice cream you passed him. 

You snorted. “Did you really just ask that question?”

“Yes!” He huffed.

You flipped yourself over on the couch and propped your head up on your elbows, leaning on the armrest whilst you batted your eyelashes at him. “It’s love, Kol! Don’t you understand? Does it not just pull at your heartstrings?” You sighed dreamily, kicking your legs back and forth in the air. 

Kol frowned. “No.”

You gasped, holding a hand to your chest as if offended. “What?! You don’t believe in love at first sight?! You don’t think that true love’s kiss can break any curse and that love conquers all and that people live happily ever after?! Oh, Kol! That’s so cold hearted of you!” If sarcasm were visible you’d be drenched in it.

Your best friend bit back a smile. “I wouldn’t keep this up if I were you.”

“Oh, what are you gonna do?” You smirked, gesturing to the DVD case he was currently holding. “Ya gonna throw DiCaprio at me?”

He grinned. “I might… or I could tickle you to death - you’ll never see it coming.”

“Well in that case-” You gave another overly dramatic sigh. “You should just kiss me and then all your problems will be magically fixed and you’ll be a model citizen because of my unconditional love and teenage angst!”

He tossed the Titanic case at your head. You dodged it with a laugh that ebbed away as he stood up and cracked his knuckles. You hadn’t thought he was serious about the tickling part. 

“Aw, crap.”

Kol pounced. His arms wrapped around you and he attacked your sides, lifting you off the ground so you couldn’t escape. You laughed and squealed but he was wholeheartedly intent on making you beg for mercy.

“Fine! FINE! You win!” You conceded, out of breath. You had a stitch in your side from laughing so hard. 

He set you on your feet and you huffed, pushing the hair out of your face. Kol just grinned.

“You know, you’re pretty cute all flushed like that,” He said gesturing to your face which you were sure had to be as red as a tomato. You rolled your eyes, vehemently ignoring the way his words made your face grow hotter. 

After all, it wasn’t going to happen.

“You’re such a dork.”

He held up a finger. “Ah! Don’t go around telling people that, love. I have a reputation to consider.”

You had to smile at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

So, after ice cream, the two of you spent the evening split between playing various card games and watching Supernatural re-runs. It was all fine and good until you somehow found yourselves on the couch. You were just sitting there, and you had gotten a little tired so you’d taken to resting your head on his shoulder. It was fine. It didn’t mean anything. Then he had to go and ruin it.

Kol picked you up by the hips - just as softly as he’d always touched you - and pulled you into his lap. His arms circled your waist and tugged you in close. It was your worst nightmare. You knew that boy would never ever do anything to hurt you - he just wasn’t that type of person - but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that this - no matter what it seemed or what anyone else would think - would never be anything but platonic. It couldn’t be. 

Life is like a box of chocolates - that’s what everyone says. But the truth is, with a box of chocolates, you always know that despite how many nasty fillings there are, each box is guaranteed at least a few sweet truffles. Relationships aren’t like a box of chocolates - not for you. They never carried anything good and it wasn’t just disappointment you took from them. No, it was always a hundred different ways to shred your heart and you knew it wasn’t worth it by now. You weren’t dying for another heartbreak. You didn’t need that - not now. 

Life had proven to you before, time and time again, that you were the box of chocolates and nobody would ever stick around long enough to find the part that made you worth it. You were simply incapable of being loved. 

Yet, your stupid, traitorous heart yearned to be proven otherwise.

So even though you knew - you knew - this would never end well, you didn’t protest. You let him nuzzle your shoulder only as much as he dared. You let him hold you. After a while, you even stopped fighting the weight of your eyelids and began drifting off to sleep. 

Kol turned off the tv and you didn’t make a sound. He shifted to lay back, holding you against him as he shrouded your bodies in a blanket; yet, you didn’t stir.

Then he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head and whispered words so quietly you could scarcely catch them. 

“Goodnight, my dearest Y/N. I love you, even if you never love yourself enough to see it.” 

No. Those words couldn’t be for you. The tenderness in his voice couldn’t be for you. There had to be some mistake because your heart with all its cracks and gouges was not a thing of beauty, nor was it remarkable. It was just there, so why was this the first time in far, far too long that you could feel it beating.

You were inherently unlovable. You’d taken that as a fact for so long. 

How dare he tell you otherwise.

“You’re not supposed to love me, Kol. That’s not how this story ends,” You whispered into the dark.

That sweet boy froze because he’d been caught. Then he reached up and found your hand, tangling his fingers with yours. 

“I don’t care how this story ends,” He said, voice firm. “I’m changing it. You know me, love. I never do as I’m told.”

“I don’t know if I can believe you.”

“That’s alright. I love you anyway.”

You chuckled and squeezed his hand. “Happy Valentine’s Day then?”

“Happy bloody Valentine’s Day, darling.” 

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln @r13mar @rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99 @railingsofsorrow @apolloroid @thatweirdoleigh @misswe03 @eat-cake @felinegrate @trikigirl271 @cute-freak27 @fayeatheart @archangelslollipop @aonungs-tsahik @sleepneverheardofher @space-princess-charming @heartbreakgrill @whatsupb18

#my name is cas and i write stuff #fanfic #fluff #klaus mikaelson #the originals #elijah mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson x reader #the vampire diaries #tvd fanfiction #tvd fanfic #mystic falls #angst and fluff #fluffy #fluffy fluff #tooth rotting fluff #kol mikaelson fanfiction #kol x reader #kol mikaelson fan fiction #reader insert #the originals fan fiction #the originals fanfiction #tvdu #tvd fan fic #kol mikaelson #kol mikaelson imagine #valentine's post #valentines fluff for my lonely lovelies #friends to lovers

[oohnotvery]

Wherever Is Your Heart (Chapter 1)

PART I

Scully

It’s been a long time since Scully has felt this drunk. She hadn’t meant for it to happen, but the Bureau’s annual holiday party has been more fun and the champagne more free-flowing than she had anticipated. Plus, something about the way people are staring at her ass in this dress is giving her a boost of confidence she didn’t know she needed.  

She’s never quite lacked confidence in the way she looks, but lately, she’s cared far more about who’s looking. For most of her career, she’s operated under the assumption that despite the affection and camaraderie that they share, nothing would ever heat up between her and Mulder. Falling in love and jumping into bed together are too risky for a partnership like theirs.

But the attraction and chemistry and the he likes me/he likes me not that bubble just under the surface of their professional relationship have started to rise. Lately, in those quiet moments between cases—on long drives, while writing reports, when walking down the street with matching coffees—she’s been catching him staring. It’s happened often enough that it’s changed her calculation just slightly, tipping the scales in favor of he likes me. He hasn’t tried anything, exactly, but she doesn’t think she’s reading him wrong. Those long, lingering glances seem to be filled with a certain yearning that she’s never before noticed in his eyes.

So on nights like this, when she’s allowed to be as feminine, as divine, as lovely as possible, she takes the chance. Because maybe tonight’s the night that Mulder will finally make his move.

She knows she looks good. In her line of work, it is a rare thing to get to throw on a slinky black satin dress and a swipe of Dior’s famous Christmas-red lipstick. It is unusual to show as much skin as she is showing tonight, her full back exposed down to her sacrum, her breasts spilling out of the corseted top. It is special to be noticed—and not just for being Mrs. Spooky. 

But it’s ten p.m., and Mulder hasn’t bothered to show, that bastard. Even after she harassed him, harangued him, threatened him, bothered him, enticed him . . . he doesn’t turn up. 

In a haze of wine and whiskey, she decides she won’t let this night go to waste. She will revel in her beauty, her womanhood, her want. She will let loose and have fun. She will flirt and be flirted with. If Mulder isn’t going to make an effort, she won’t deny herself her own pleasure.

And so she drinks, letting first A.D. Skinner and then a stranger from accounting take her for a spin on the dance floor. Twinkly, starry lights swing from the ballroom’s chandeliers and light her skin with a warm glow. She basks in the attention of men she has never met filling up her wine glasses, of a handsome new special agent bringing her a bubbly sip of champagne.

“Agent Jacobs,” the man says by way of introduction, his bright blue eyes striking against his jet-black hair. He presses the flute into her fingers and smiles sweetly. Her lips lift into a satisfied grin as the sparkly feeling of champagne trips down her throat.

“Dana,” she replies coquettishly, already ready to give this stranger a chance at being on a first-name basis.

“Tyler,” he replies with an even wider smile, and she feels his hand warm the dip in her spine. “Care for a dance?”

His face tips close to hers and she feels the scratchy material of his wool suit scritch temptingly against her arm. She instantly wants to bury her face in it.

“Mhmm,” is all she can muster as alcohol drips through her system.

Time floats by without notice. One minute she is swinging with Tyler to a festive, upbeat song, her heels slipping and sliding gleefully against the floor; and the next, he is pressing her into his chest, gripping her hand tightly to his heart, whispering naughty, exciting things in her ear as a crooner sings an old-school melody.

“Let me take you home, Dana,” he whispers, his stubble raking deliciously across the soft skin of her cheek. There is nothing more intoxicating than a man who wants her back.

With half-lidded eyes, she begins to nod, because she wants to be touched, wants to be loved, and who better than this handsome man she’s never met, this man who’s paying her all the attention in the world, who’s making her feel wanted, special, adored?

Tyler grips the back of her head and she feels his lips pressing into the crown of her hair, and it feels so good to be treated like this, to be touched like this. She melts.

And then she feels fingers at her elbow, a gentle tug, a few quiet words, and Mulder comes into view.

His smile is warm but concerned, his expression tender but firm.

“Come on, party girl,” he murmurs in her ear, his arm draping possessively around her shoulders. “I’ll take you home.”

She blinks dopily up at him.

Oh, yes. Oh, yes. How could she have forgotten? Mulder. Mulder is going to take her home. Mulder, with his patient eyes and kind smile and delicious jawline. Mulder, with his heart only for mysteries and monsters. Mulder, with his brilliant mind and kissable lips.

Mulder wants to take her home.

“Mulder,” she says with a growing smile, all thoughts of Tyler forgotten, “you made it.”

He cocks his head at her and she runs her hands up his arms.

“Steady there,” he whispers conspiratorially, and when Tyler tries to butt in and explain himself, Mulder just tugs Scully into a private corner.

In some far-off recess of her mind, she hears Tyler calling after her that they should get drinks soon. With eyes only for Mulder, she doesn’t even acknowledge him.

In the corner of the ballroom, Mulder places a hand on her shoulder and with his other hand, tips her chin up to meet his eyes. He’s going to kiss her. She just knows it. She feels her eyelids growing heavy with want.

“You want to go home with that guy?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

She opens her mouth to reply, but the words come out garbled.

“Scully,” Mulder tries again, squeezing her shoulder a little. “Dana, Dana look at me.” Her eyes lift lazily to his. He’s so beautiful in his black Armani suit. She tells him so. His lips quirk into a quick smile. “Dana Scully,” he asks slowly, his face the picture of seriousness, “do you want to go home with Agent Jacobs?”

She shakes her head naughtily. “I want to go home with you,” she whines, tugging him closer by his bowtie. “Take me home with you.”

He chuffs a little laugh and nods. “Okay, Scully, then let’s go.”

She feels her knees buckle slightly at his words. He’s going to take her home. Finally. This is finally happening.

She doesn’t remember how they get back home, or why they’re at her home instead of his. It doesn’t matter. She stumbles through the door and turns to face him. His features are masked in the dim light of her apartment but she can see that he’s smiling slightly, almost like he’s enjoying seeing her like this. Well then. She has a lot more to show him.

“Come,” she says with a tug of his hand, and she drags him into her. When he bumps into her chest, she stretches her arms up over his shoulders and slings them around his neck, pulling him down for a hug.

He hugs her back but it’s only for a minute before he’s gently prying her arms off.

“Kiss me,” she hears herself say, but she’s not embarrassed because he brought her home. He took her away from Tyler for just this reason, to bring her home.

His eyes grow dark for a minute and then he’s laughing nervously and she hears him making excuses.

“I want you so bad,” she whispers as her hands fall to his belt. He yelps when she sloppily tugs at his trousers and her hands pass over his groin. “I want to taste you,” she slurs, dropping to her knees and pressing her face into his thighs.

“Oh—Scully, Scully,” he’s repeating over and over, and she feels his hands tugging at her biceps, first gently and then more roughly, until she’s being forced off the ground and held firmly at arms-length.

“Scully,” he says with a stern look, “you’re drunk,” he tells her, but she knows that. It doesn’t make any difference. I still want you, all the time, even when I’m sober. She may say that out loud, but she isn’t sure.

She feels him turning her around and marching her to her bedroom, lifting her in his arms when she refuses to walk. This is it. This is the moment. He’s going to throw her onto the bed and ravage her. She trembles a little with excitement but instead, he lays her down gently, then makes quick work of her shoes. He doesn’t even touch her beautiful dress or her heaving breasts.

“Touch me,” she whines again, pulling at the hem of her dress until it rides up to her waist. She’s wearing the tiniest G-string she owns and she watches as his eyes flit over her thighs quickly before red colors his cheeks.

“Scully. Jesus, stop,” he says firmly, yanking her dress back down.

A sour mood fills the room as she tries to read his expression. For years, she has catalogued every Mulder expression he’s ever made—profiler Mulder, investigator Mulder, comforter Mulder, Agent Mulder—but this . . . this one she doesn’t know. It’s something like exasperation and amusement and horror, all wrapped into one. Her alcohol-addled brain doesn’t know what to do with it.

He leaves the bedroom without a word and she closes her eyes for a moment, reveling in the spin of the room around her. When he comes back, he is carrying water, coffee, and aspirin, which he forces her to take before he will let her close her eyes again.

“I’ll be on the couch if you get sick,” she hears him telling her, and she feels a hand in her hair, petting her like she’s a dog.

“No,” she wants to say, “stay with me.” But her words are caught in the back of her throat, trapped there by alcohol and the heaviness of slumber.

She falls in and out of a restless sleep. When she gets sick, she barely makes it to the toilet, and she feels Mulder rushing in to hold her hair. Her dress twists around her waist as she retches on her knees.

Brushed teeth and a glass of water later, she is back in bed, but now she is fully awake. She knows she can’t be drunk anymore. Alcohol doesn’t last that long in the system, right? Something smart in the back of her brain tries to explain otherwise, to tell her that the effects of alcohol actually linger for quite some time, and certainly don’t disappear after two hours. But she traps that part of her intelligence away.

Convinced that she’s no longer drunk, she decides to try again.

Fumbling out of bed, she trips to the couch, where Mulder is staring listlessly at the T.V., his suit jacket thrown over the back of the chair, his Oxford shirt unbuttoned and untucked. He glances at her questioningly.

“You okay?” he asks, and she knows he wants her too. She felt it in the way he took her away from Tyler—so possessively.

She nods and hitches up her skirt, then throws her knee across his waist and straddles him. His eyes widen in shock and she grinds down on his lap.

“Fuck me,” she says as flirtatiously as possible, hoping her makeup still looks good, hoping she still smells nice. She drapes her arms across his shoulders and tangles her hands in his hair. This is how she always imagined it. Riding him like this without abandon.

His hands grip at her waist and yes, he wants this too.

But he’s holding her back from him, he’s telling her she’s drunk. But doesn’t he know that she’s not drunk anymore? She shakes her head and ignores the way the room spins when she does. She grinds down on him again and he holds her off again, pushing her from his lap. She loses her balance and starts to careen to the floor but he steadies her with strong arms at her back.

“I love you,” she tells him, because it’s true but also because maybe that will do the trick.

His eyes flit between hers for a long moment and she wonders if he’s making up his mind. “I love you,” she repeats more quietly.

“Scully,” he whispers, standing and lifting her with him. “Let’s get you back to bed.” Pain seems to cross his face and she frowns, shaking her head.

“No, no,” she pleads, “no.”

He nods more firmly, taking her by the arm and half-dragging, half-carrying her to her room.

“I’m going back to the couch, okay?” he tells her as he settles her back into bed, and she feels tears leaking traitorously down her cheeks. He brushes a thumb under her eyelids and more tears start to fall.

“You’ll be okay,” he tells her, before pressing a kiss to her forehead and leaving the room.

She cries herself to sleep.

#mulder x scully #x files #msr #msr fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder my beloved #x files fanfic

[vhagarswar]

Ranking all Targ males from least scary to most scary for the spooky season! (TV ONLY) and explaining why.🎃🎃

This list was made on who made the biggest impression on me, not ‘’who would win in a fight’’ for we all know it would be mr ‘’i dont want it’’ plot armor. I included both GOT and HOTD here and some men apparently had bastards off-screen but unless i saw one i'm not keeping track of the lot sorry.

I don’t read books so….

16. Daeron. 

I don’t know, he is not even in the show. What is he doing on this list? Oh yeah, he might be in season 2. Well, sir, I hope you bring some serious drama to the screen. Right now I'm not impressed. At all. Because you don’t exist. At all. 

Threat level: -100 (he does not exist at this point imo) method of defeat: Pull his hair? (idk)

15: Viserys I Targaryen.

Viserys is a good kind man, but a horrible father to most of his children. He had a dragon once, but that dragon died. He had two wives and showed himself a righteous, good and kind rare Targaryen who should have given his Green children more love and attention and raised them better as well (I said what I said) That said, Viserys is no real threat to anyone or anything, as he proved countless times that he lets people walk all over him (Corlys, Alicent, Rhaenyra) and that there are no real consequences when it comes to him. 

Threat: -20 method of defeat: Hide his crown or put a whoopy cushion on his throne (Heart-attack)

14. Viserys (Little viserys)

Not really impressed by Viserys so far, or even scared. I think it will depend how the show will continue if we will ever see how Viserys (Daenyra’s son) will grow up. I don’t count it as first appearance points, so he can rise in ranking should he grow up to be as terrifying as his uncle and daddy. 

Threat:0 (child) method of defeat: bedtime.

13. Jaehaerys II Targ (The son of Aegon/Aemond and Helaena)

Nothing that impressive going on either, nothing to be afraid of at this moment as well, aside from the fear that I could accidentally step on his toes or something. We must wait and see if we will see if Jaeh grows up to be as terrifying as his uncle or daddy depending on what you believe.  

Threat:0 (Child) method of defeat: Give him cheese (lactose intolerance)

12. Aegon (Child of Rhae and Daemon)

Again we will see how the show handles his aging, his possible warcrimes and how insane he will become if he ever becomes insane. Ranked above Jaeh because I believe that Rhaes and Daemons children would be more chaotic because Daemon would raise his kids, Aegon ignores them. 

Threat:0 (Child) method of defeat: peek-a-boo.

11. Maelor (Child of aegon/aemond and Hel.)

Once more we need to show how the show handles him. I haven’t seen him burn puppies on screen or rip his sister’s dolls to shreds so we will wait and see if and how Maelor will live up to his namesake. 

Threat: 0 (child) method of defeat: tear his favourite toy to pieces/Tell him his mother loves his brother more.

10. Joffrey (Child of Rhae and Harwin)

Joffery is a child so we havent seen his heights and lows yet, but he does slightly scare me more than most kids. Why? Because he's the youngest. Youngest children are always a bit more spoiled, get away with a lot more (i am a youngest child). But thats all speculation we dont know how this brave strong boy will become scary if at all.

 Threatlevel: 0 (child) method of defeat: Challenge his bravery and manipulate him into doing something dangerous.

9. Jaehaerys I targaryen. 

This is the old king that opens the show, so to speak. We see him sitting at the council. He apparently was a very good king, reigning over nearly sixty years of peace and prosperty. Now that’s rare in the Targaryen family. We applaud him, but we don’t fear the old man. At least I don’t. Not once. He's higher than Viserys because he is older, older people get forgetful he might become as Vhagar and accidentally commit war crimes but we didnt see any of that sadly.

Threat: 3 (but dead) method of defeat: Take him for a stroll/let him explain the targaryen family tree to you (heartfailures)

8. Unnamed bastard of Aegon II

This child is the most terrifying on the list because he grew up fighting and not the kind that the royals do with pretty swords and tourneys he has to learn how to fight for himself or he could die. I was pretty disgusted (by aegon ofc) when I saw this innocent little boy sitting there, without his parents or a guardian in an environment that horrible. A horrible environment makes for horrible people. I hope we will see more of this bastard in season 2.  Threat: 2 (child with fighting skills) method of defeat: Tell him his father will come back after he gets milk.

7. Lucerys ‘’Velyaron’’/Targaryen.

Lucerys proved himself right from the start to be a sweet, kind boy. He could not face injustice and was very small and kinda not that important compared to his brother Jace (imo) until he took Aemonds eye and possibly arguably, and most certainly, played a big part in the start of the civil war that drives that wonderful story. Lucerys was shy, perhaps, a bit too sweet, yes but he was a skilled dragonrider, as was shown in his final moments. (this is not sarcasm, i think most dragons wouldnt have survived vhagar that long) Lucerys proves that even in death he could be a plague to Aemond that he will never be free of, being both ionic and yet sweet to his loved ones.  

Threat: level 4. (but sadly, turned into a dragon meal/dead) method of defeat: Remind him that death comes for everyone/Offer him a dragon-omelette.

6. Jacaerys ‘’Velyaron’’/Targaryen.

Jace. He showed right up when his mother needed an heir, he is loved by many, good, sweet, so boring-I MEAN EH-. Jace is …decent with a sword, he would beat me but so would the children on this list. Jace is a good, kind person that almost equals Jon snow in got. There is not much going on for his darkness or emotions, I think the closest thing he got to being scary was when Aegon hit on Baela, i loved his little speech. BUT: I do hope we see another darker side of Jace, as he now is not really annoying me, but I have this feeling he can be more. There can be more struggle for him as in morally. His brother has just died, so I assume we will get it. I hope to see more scenes of Jace in general, more info on him as well. 

Threat: Level 5 Method of defeat: Say you need a ‘’Strong’’ boy to roll a tv into a classroom/ Hit on Baela.

5. Jon Snow.

Right from the start of the show we see that Jon is a loyal but lost puppy who would never ollow his own dreams and would rather follow someone else’s. We see him as a skilled warrior and that might be terrifying to his enemies, but as a viewer I could see he is a golden retriever, loyal, sweet, kind. The only moment I feared Jon was when he was brought back to life but he was himself so…nothing to fear i guess? Yet we fear him for his plot armor. Threat: 7 (Plot armor king) method of defeat: Remind him that Arya killed the night king, or offer him a throne.

4. Aegon II (Son of Viserys I, Alicent Hightower)

Aegon is a raper, a usurper and he can be terrifying for those two reasons alone. HOWEVER; There is something hiding beneath those little hobo locks and his bright eyes. Aegon is dangerous in another way. He is medicore with a sword, not caring for duty, nor his destiny. But what he does care for is inflicting drama, and he is pretty damn good at it. He is chaotic and sadistic, and does clearly not care who or what he destroys as long as he has his fun. That makes him dangerous. Aegon is luckily too much of an idiot to form a real threat but he does terrify me. 

(Threat: 8 Level of defeat: Chastity belt/Rehab.)

3. Viserys III Targaryen (Son of IDK and IDC)

‘’WHAT?!’’ This man has what we call ‘’First Targ privilege.’’ He is the first male Targaryen I saw on screen. And he absolutely terrified me. I didn’t think he was sexy for it or hot, or anything. I wanted him off my screen asap. But there is more than his privilege. The other Targaryen males in this list struggle perhaps for position, for glory and worth but Viserys III has already lost it all. He is foolish, gullible and imo the inbreeding has gone on longer so therefore he has a higher risk of insanity. Aemond and Daemon are scary for who they are and for who the world made them to be, but Viserys is terrifying for he has lost everything, and is willingly to risk it all to get back what he wants. That makes him scary to me. But mostly also the first part.  Threat: 8 (insanity) level of defeat: telling him he is no dragon and gifting him a pot of gold.

2. Daemon Targaryen (The Rogue Prince)

Daemon is a complicated man. He is put second, many times. He is forced to marry a woman he does not love. But there is more to Daemon than his crimes/tragedy. He is a chaotic man with quite the strategic mind, the resources, the name, the titles and the courage to back up his chaotic plans and plots. He is also quite attractive which he is very aware of. He rides the biggest dragon in the world. I think there were multiple moments Daemon was terrifying. For example his introduction. i didn’t notice at first, but he was sitting the throne. I didnt knew at the time but that is considered high-treason. he was committing sorta treason right when he was introduced. I dont mind though he looked hot sitting that iron ugly thing. Next scene we see him kill his wife, behead a man and eventually we see him even choke our beloved disney princess Rhae-rhae and for that he can burn. But Daemon does prove himself to care about others. He can be capable of emotions, of good will and good deeds….For the right price.

Threat: ten. Method of defeat: Telling him he can’t do something, mock him or win from him.

Aemond Targaryen

Aemond has many flaws and skills that make him as terrifying as Daemon perhaps even more. Daemon is very readable. You can read him and his actions/plots what he does next very well, as he is logical semi-healthy man. Now Aemond? Aemond does not wear his heart on his sleeve and is often hiding that away/

It kinda comes close to what the actor of Aemond said in a interview: ‘’Just because Aemond is smiling does not mean he is happy.’’ He is basically hiding his emotions very well, and even if he is happy he is ready to go for it any moment (his sudden outburst by the baratheons) there is also the matter of his lost eye and how he became a sword man nevertheless. There is something terrifying about Aemond and it's his dedication. To everything: To his duties, to his family, to destroying his enemies and learning. He does not want to be better than the Strong boys, he wants to be the best. He believes himself superior, better, and stronger than Aegon but his sense of loyalty binds him to Aegon. I hope we see more of his war crimes tbf and more of his dark side. We saw a very mild version of his book counterpart (huh but didnt you say you didnt read-) Oh i did read Aemonds parts and It scared me xD. So Aemond is terrifying not because he is stronger than Daemon, but because he is chaotic as Daemon, second born as daemon, never enough as Daemon and Aemond has a score to settle with the rest of the world or whoever he thinks hurt him. 

THREAT: Ten (SAME AS DAEMON!) method of defeat: Give him a hot woman, a castle and an army and you won't see him even if you would invade his home, hold his mother hostage and commit crimes in the city he grew up in.

CONCLUSION

 When I made this list I already knew: It was going to be between Aemond or Daemon, there was no other way for it. I knew I was going to put Jon last and I knew it was going to be controversial af. Yet i hope you enjoyed it. I did my best to make it kinda funny lol.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #daemon targaryen #Jon snow #Game of thrones #Viserys I Targaryen #Viserys II targaryen #Viserys III targaryen #Aegon II targaryen #Aegon iii targaryen #Hotd shitpost

[cloudninetonine]

Linktober: Bird

(A/N: I wanted to do something for this month because it's the spooky month, but also inktober, such and such so I was like I should do something special! Then I remembered it's also Linktober so you know how this goes, people. I know I'm late so I'm posting 2 today!)

“He seems to love you.”

“Well I love him too and I hope this handsome man knows it!”

Sky’s Loftwing, Red, chittered happily at your words, cuddling you into his side happily as you laughed with an excited glee. You made sure to stroke him with careful hands, despite his big stature you wouldn’t dare hurt the great beast and ruin the moment the two of you seemed to share, after all this was a meaningful experience, and you would never live it again once you returned back home. So, with the most delicate touch, you brought the bird’s beak towards you when he playfully nipped at your hair, resting your head against his own- making sure to scratch under his bill the way you knew he liked, tail feathers shaking similar to how a dog would wag their tail.

“You have to be the most handsome man on the Isle.”

Sky’s face soured mockingly at your words, wandering up to your side as Red tilted his head at you curiously. “Should I take offence to such words?”

“I didn’t say you should, why, do you think you should? What does your heart tell you?” You teased, yelping when he pinched your side before sliding his arm around your waist “Bastard move, elf.”

His laugh was sweet against your ears. “What? It’s what my heart told me to do.”

Red’s movement cut off your reply, the space around you shrinking as the huge bird’s body began to shift around the both of you, his head moving from your hands to dip lower and push against Sky’s back until you were pressed against one another, nose to nose with eyes meeting.

After a few surprised blinks, you snorted. “Heh, what a wingman am I right?”

His returning snort was more tired than anything. “Sometimes, I ask myself why I decided to court you.”

You lowered your eyelids, bit your lip and rested your chin upon your finger similar to a stance of a fuck boy. “Because I’m just too sexy not to court, ahaha.”

“No.” Your bout of laughter was interrupted by his lips on yours, his arm still around your waist tightening to bring your even closer with his free hand holding your cheek with a delicate love, your body willingly falling into him and the moment until he finally pulled away, resting his forehead against your own. “But I would say it isn’t too far from the truth.”

With a softer smile, you moved your hands to hold his face in return before placing a kiss against his nose, then pecking his mouth. “Ditto, handsome-”

The both of you yelped when Red’s face barged between the both of you before following with giggles, making sure to share the level with the pouting loftwing as it purred and squawked.

#Linktober #Linktober 2022 #linked universe x reader #linked universe #lu #linked universe imagine #player au #a player's aid #lu sky x reader #lu sky

[altocat]

I hate Hojo so so SO MUCH

Are you gonna be mad if I say that I genuinely love the rotten bastard?

He's just so horrible. Watching him gives me anxiety. The man COULD have just been a cackling mad scientist trope, and to some extent he really is. But he has also completely fucked over almost every single main character within the canon, including the villain. And he actually enjoyed every single minute of it. He regrets absolutely nothing and he's maddeningly fearless in the face of people threatening him. He knows exactly what he's doing and what he's capable of. He doesn't doubt himself. He fully enjoys what he does and he doesn't look back.

Hate to say it, but Hojo is a pretty great character. He's a level of campy pure evil that's so much fun to watch. When he shows up, you know things are about to get spooky. He makes me uncomfortable. But it's a...good uncomfortable? It's hard to describe.

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #hojo

[ghostiiess]

[NSB HEADCANONS] - making your apartment spooky with justin

pov: title says it all!

warnings: some swears here and there, i think that’s all? Let me know if there’s more!

type: fluff

member: justin phan

REBLOGS AND LIKES ARE VERY APPRECIATED!

so you guys just finished shopping

this year, with your boyfriend justin, you both decided that it would be a great thing to do a halloween party in your appartment

but of course, to make a good and unforgettable halloween party, you need to decorate the place!!

otherwise, it is not really a halloween party, it’s just….well, a party

(More under the cut!)

so jp offered his help to decorate your apartment with you!

« I’m telling you babe… in 2h, this apartment will looks spooky af! »

this man was ready.

you only asked him to bring his bluetooth speaker

this man brought your favorite fall drink, and A LOT of decorations

like this man bought stuff for like $100...

you will have enough decoration, i think.

you already had some decorations in your apartment, but this man bought even more (bc he said “what if we miss any?”)

you won’t have to go out for buying some more

at least, i hope not 😂

btw, he forgot the bluetooth speaker.

“Omg, I totally forgot!”

he would put the music on your tv or something like that

he would put a halloween music playlist

“this is the best halloween song, don’t you agree baby?”

and he would vibe so much, he would not be able to stop dancing or like sing the song

this man knows how to decorate a room!!

like idk how to explain it, but he knows where things goes

he knows how to make a great ambience with the decorations and what to buy…

i hope you understand what im trying to say 😅

“more to the left…. okay, now that’s too much.. just a little bit more to the right and you’re all set”

he would try to scare you with jumpscares

then fail.

“i bought this halloween mask just for you"

yes, you heard him.

he spent $15 for a halloween mask that didnt even scared you.

also, he would put fake spider and bats on your wall, i hope you are not scared of them…

“this is starting to look great!”

he also bought fake spider web

“spiderman will come to us!”

he would be so concentrated…

like, he would not stop until your apartment look spooky

“do you think we should add this banner on this wall?”

“you look so cute when you’re all focused like that..”

he would not be able to stop smiling

“my love, you are doing such a great job!”

“sweetie? could you help me for a sec?”

he would be the type to let you decorate for a while just bc he was busy making you something sweet to eat (or to drink)

“because you worked so well, you deserve this lil’ reward”

he’s a cutie :(

he would put LED light in your bathroom, in the living room, literally everywhere he can hahaha

also, he would tease you so much

you would put a fake monster mask and he would be like 😐😐

but then, when you would take it off, he would be like 🫨🫨

"damn, your face scared me! put that thing back on!"

he is only teasing, i promise you

but he's still a lil' bastard to say that 🤪😚😇

just kidding, ily jp

after a lot of preparation, decorations, making snacks, blablablaaaa..

it was the halloween party!!

let's say everyone LOVED how your apartment was decored

i would like to say that most of your decorations were still perfectly intact after the party, but it would be a lie…

the 4h of decoration n preparation was worth it 😌

you did a party with 7 boys (and their girls) full of energy (okay 6 if we don't count ryan bc watching animes > partying) + there was some alcohol…

phan bought soju !!

if you can't drink / not in the age to drink, he would make you juice or a special drink

drinks that taste like alcohol, but that don't have any alcohol in it?

anyways! hope your enjoyed your halloween party with jp

yes idk how to end this rip

taglist! (open! send an ask if you'd like to be in it!) : @nsb-rkive @kentisbaby @firebenderwolf @hyuneee0 @yawnzzznnn @ghostyycat7

bold can't be tagged.

#ghostiiess #nsb #northstarboys #north star boys #headcanon #headcanons #nsbheadcanons #northstarboys x reader #northstarboys headcanon #northstarboys x female reader #northstarboys x you #north star boys x reader #north star boys x female reader #nsb x you #nsb x reader #nsb x female reader #justinphan #justin phan #phan jp #jp phan #please reblog #reblogs really help

[traggalicious]

OKAY SO

I love how spooky Cazador’s Palace is, dark, bat-filled, eery. Steps seem to echo and every move seems to attract hidden eyes. Everyone could be an enemy. But. Everyone here is more afraid than you are, manic with terror, trembling and pacing. Those who believe in Cazador’s shit believe it so desperately, with only a thin veneer of true trust in it. They *need* this to be true. The multitude of people you see or read about in their journals are desperate to leave, planning, plotting, and ultimately you know. Leon’s daughter was eaten. We killed the ones that came after us. Yes, in self-defense but weren’t they also doing this in self-defense too? They were tortured, isolated, manipulated, by a fucking rat bastard of a man who wanted more power and was willing to kill for it. These people were enslaved and cazador fuckin. I bet he relished in it. I hate him so much. That palace makes me *sick*, which it should. It feels like a facade, like something rotting around you. Worse, it feels like it will take you with it.

And Astarion’s interjections from time to time, about the fuckin kennel, about the dormitories, about the script on the door. It all just. Yeah. It feels horrible. Well done.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 astarion #bg3 #bg3 cazador #cazador szarr #fuck cazador #fuck him #he’s a horrible rat bastard #i hate him so SO much #astarion didnt deserve that #nobody deserved that #his palace is dark and spooky and probably smells weird #like rot and death with a hint of cleaning product under the fragrance of expensive perfumes #and the fcuking KENNEL? #AND *GODEY*? #bg3 godey #HATE HIM #hate hate hate #hatred runs through my veins for this Bitch #i almost hated the other spawn too until i saw one (leon?)’s diary #and it was just #he wants to keep his kid safe #they all want to be safe and keep their loved ones safe #but they CANT BC FUCKING CAZADOR #and i want him DEAD #cazador’s palace #also i just saw a tag shipping cazador and astarion and if anyone ships that im coming for you honestly what #dont do that please #traggy’s shit