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munsster · 8 months

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bedhead

A/N: I needed a sleepy boy on this sleepy day. and billy H needs a damn haircut >:) gif cred: @julie-thefatones

Pairings: Billy Hargrove x GN!Reader

Summary: Billy wakes with the desire to get rid of his hair eating away at him. 0.7k words

Warnings: fluff, minor angst, established relationship, implied night terrors, messy haircuts, anxiety/insomnia, scars, mentions of bullying

Everything Billy can touch is cold and dark. The sheets, the hard wood floor, the bathroom light switch, the porcelain counter. The water that pours from the faucet and the silver rings of the trimming scissors you keep in a soft plastic case in the cabinet below the sink. The only noise he can reasonably detect is the whirring of the ceiling fan. And if he listened carefully enough, paused his thundering heart for just a moment, he could hear your breath as it fans across your pillow.

But he came in here for a reason. Wielding the cold metal shears like Goliath and his sword. Marching into battle at six foot something, only to find himself in the mirror, damp with sweat and pale with insomnia. Deep purple cresting his edges and the thin crescents of skin beneath his baby blue eyes. Though the bathroom gives him a sickly green tint.

The first chunk of hair hits the floor with the faintest thud. So faint, it shouldn't be classified as a thud. But it's more the weight of the change than the handful of dark gold curls itself.

He's lopsided now. Now there's no turning back. But he couldn't proceed forward with any strength and confidence looking how he's looked for years. How he looked beating up his friends and calling girls sluts. How he looked on the verge of death.

Billy used to wear his head of sun kissed, West Coast hair like a helmet. Now it feels like a burden. You'd still fawn over him if he buzzed it all off. You'd call him stupid, sure, but he'd still be yours. And right now, that's all he's concerned with being.

Because you peer into the bathroom and coo his name like you don't see the growing pile of hair writhing around on the floor.

"Hi, baby," you whisper, cradling the scissors when he drops them into your hands, "little early for a haircut, isn't it?"

He shrugs, but he doesn't look at you. Like a child guilty of putting a piece of gum in his sister's hair. Only he's the one with the choppy locks, uneven chunks missing by his ears and the back of his head.

"Want help?"

Oh, and there are those baby blues, surrounded by soft pink sclera and nearly drooping from their sweetened places above his flushed cheeks.

Billy straddles the toilet lid backwards, arms crossed and settled on the ledge. He lets you turn his head side to side, up and down, and the pattern becomes soothing. Especially as the extra weight accumulates below his socked feet and over his sloped shoulders.

He thinks he must’ve passed out to the sound of the clippers, because he wakes with a tap on his shoulder. Your manicured pointer on his warm midnight skin rousing him from a dreamless sleep.

“Hmm?”

“All done,” you whisper, kissing his temple when he turns his head, “come look.”

Billy’s fingers feel heavy as he drops them between yours. You can hear the exhaustion in how he slumps to a stop in front of the mirror. He takes his time, a few deep breaths, and a while to admire the cropped cut. The way he hasn’t looked in years. It’s refreshing.

“You look really handsome, Billy. Was about time for a trim.” There’s a lilt in your voice that’s hard to take. It lightens his chest, straightens his shoulders, widens his tired eyes. Because there’s this sort of mischief clear on your face from where you stand behind his shoulder. He can feel it through the mirror. Intoxicating and delicious. Makes him feel beautiful as if he ever has before.

Billy whips around and twists his arms tight around you, collapsing into your embrace like a lovely paper doll. The room is cool like a nice glass of water. Even with the sun hinting at the morning and cars whizzing by down below, the light blue of five AM settles over him like a blanket.

You run your fingers up the exposed back of his neck, and he groans. The hair is short there, his neck is hot, his teeth sink into your shoulder playfully.

“Back to bed.”

He nods and does not let go, just waddles you to the bed, tucking the both of you back under the duvet with a big sigh.

masterlist

#stranger things #x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #fluff #angst #billy hargrove #hurt/comfort #x gn!reader #x gn reader #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x gn!reader #drabble #billy hargrove drabble

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dawnarts · 3 months

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Image description: two digital drawings from dimension 20 fantasy high. the first is fig faeth, a red tiefling with tall horns wearing a leather jacket and red skirt. Her legs are kicked up, almost floating. Opposite to her in the same pose is fig disguised as wanda chillda, a blue tiefling in a striped sweater and socks, skirt, and shear arm sleeves with a tattoo of "better to be lost". The drawing is framed with small hatch markings. The bottom says "figueroth faeth" and the top, upside down, is "wanda childa"

The second image is the first image flipped so wanda appears before fig. Both are signed dawnarts. End image description.

I heard someone from the fantasy fbi is looking for this girl? One of them? Or both??

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bradshawsbitch · 1 year

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son of a preacher man | rhett abbott x reader

disclaimer; this thot popped into my brain this morning as i listened to 'son of a preacher man' by dusty springfield, feel free to listen to it as you read. I myself am agnostic so if there's any inaccuracies-- *shrugs*. both characters are 20.

warnings; religious themes, 18+, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, female reader, afab!reader, corruption kink, innocence, dresses mentioned, attempt at masturbation, cunnilingus, mentions of sick parent, size kink(?)

summary; rhett abbott, the preacher's son, is the only one who had ever reached a part of you, a part of you you hardly knew yourself.

word count; 4K.

tagging people who might like; @hangmanapologist @sebsxphia @rhettabbotts @lt-bradshaw @roleycoleyreccenter

◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇

Spring had come suddenly that year, the meadows waking from their long sleepy absence and blooming slowly with white and pale lavender wildflowers. The sweet fragrance that emanated from the very earth you walked on was intoxicating to you, more than happy to spend long afternoons amongst the meadow wildlife if time allowed it.

More often than not though, there was no time. Your father had fallen ill the past year, and his health had steadily declined as the raw winter chill seeped through the old wood of your house. Mother had needed all the help she needed around the house, with the sweet lambs you had out back, shearing them and spinning yarn from their soft fur.

You’d often work tirelessly at knitting sweaters, little socks and mittens for the church charity, or to sell on market days to help sustain the farm and your fathers medication. Sometimes mother let you knit out on the meadows, but most of the time she wanted you near her.

The one day you steadfastly looked forward to was Sundays. Sundays when the kind Reverend Royal Abbott would make sure to visit your family after Sunday service to read for your mother and your father, as your fathers health no longer allowed him to attend sermons. It was not so much Father Abbotts blessings that brought you feelings of elation and butterflies, no, it was more so the blessing of his youngest son.

It was the one afternoon you were completely free from your mothers watchful eyes, and she always let you wander the meadows with the Abbott boy for as long as you needed - under the impression that the preacher’s son was offering you the lord's word as comfort for the situation that was impending. She always gave you a comforting and sympathetic smile as the younger Abbott took you for a walk through your back lawn, out towards the meadows, pastures and forests adjacent.

You and Rhett Abbott were the same age, and you’d always had such a soft spot for the cerulean eyed boy with longer hair and mischief twinkling in his smile and eyes. You knew his mother Cecelia often reprimanded him, and wished he was more like his older brother Perry who sported short, more respectable hair, and who had already married.

There was something enchanting about him, the way your body and soul always seemed so in tune with him - how when he entered the room, your very being would vibrate with the need to be close to him.

He was everything. Tall, broad, beautiful and kind. You were, according to yourself, rather plain. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined he would desire you in any way, until you noticed how he always made a point to accompany his father to your house on Sunday afternoons. In the beginning, he would sit near you as you listened to his fathers preaching.

It was hard to concentrate on the words of the Reverend, when his son was running his strong hands softly across the thin fabric of your white, billowy Sunday dress. When he did it the first time, you’d turned to him in shock, only to be met with a sympathetic look as he opted to let his hand rest on your shoulder. It clicked in your mind then that he was offering you comfort. Taking in your surroundings, you saw your mother in tears at the preacher's words, and you bowed your head - only partly ashamed you’d been too busy taking in the scent and the close proximity of Rhett to fully understand Royal’s gruff voice.

His hand on your shoulder, warmth seeping through the thin and soft fabric of your dress made you inhale the softest of gasps. You wanted to melt into his touch and never leave, but you managed to sit up straight with your hands neatly folded in your lap that Sunday afternoon.

As they left that Sunday, Royal tipped his hat and bid your family farewell, as Rhett gripped your shoulder tightly again and spoke softly;

Everything will be alright.

You could tell Royal was proud of his son, thinking his wilder spouse had finally found the way of the Lord. Perhaps that’s why, as time went on, Rhett would make a point to speak verses of comfort to you when they visited. He kept touching your upper arm and shoulder, once venturing to rest his large palm just above your knee - but the surprised gasp you had let out had been so loud he’d had to pretend to swat away a fly as the elders turned to look at you.

Being good isn’t always easy, you tell yourself that night as you imagine Rhett’s firm touch all over your body, burning sensations flaring when you thought of his palm reaching higher up on your thigh. Your own daintier hand didn’t feel the same as you graced it up your inner thigh, your nightgown bunching around your hips as soft gasps spilled from parted lips, legs falling apart further and further as you thought of Rhett’s tall frame fitting in between them.

Hesitant touches made you writhe in your bed, breaths coming in short gasps, but never truly getting satisfied. No one had ever taught you about your own body, had never told you what sort of feeling you were yearning for when your body burned and ached like this.

A soft, longing, moan of the preacher’s son's name fell from your lips as you brushed against a spot that momentarily satiated the ache, but you lost it in your surprise that overtook you at what had tumbled from your mouth. That night you contemplated your actions, wondering if you were no longer a good girl in the eyes of the Lord. It surprised you that you felt little shame about your actions.

After a whole week of chores, knitting and tending to your little lambs, it was soon Sunday again. You’d opted to wear your Sunday dress again, as you would any Sunday, but you had to admit you spent a little more time with the rest of your appearance. As Father Abbott and his son approached your abode, your mother sang their praises to you, gushing over how kind they were to come to your house personally to make sure your poor father’s soul could be salvaged.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Royal grumbled, taking off his hat and bowing his head before he kept talking “today, my son was wondering if he might have the privilege to preach to your daughter - he has expressed concern for how she might be faring in these dire circumstances.”

Glancing up at your mother, you saw tears glistening in her eyes as she nodded “Of course, Father Abbott, we are so blessed to have you preaching to us who are a bit older - certainly, our daughter would be thankful to have a younger perspective upon her hardships,” she answered for you, and you could only bite your lip to keep your smile at bay.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Rhett spoke, before he revealed what passages he would cover with you today. “Could we perhaps be allowed on the meadow out back?” Rhett continued, eyes flitting between your mother and his father “I find that nature can instill peace along with the Lord’s words,” he elaborated and your mother nodded, tears now glittering on her cheeks.

“My little lamb does love spending her time on the meadow, does it offer you peace my dove?” Your mother doted on you, as if she now at once understood why you were out there. You could only nod mutely, not entirely believing your luck as the elders made room for Rhett to lead you through your back lawn, your arm tucked respectfully in his arm.

Those first times, Rhett did take you for a walk. He would talk in soft, soothing voices, once in a while adding some passages from verses. Mostly, the two of you would talk of other matters too, and getting to know Rhett was exhilarating. He told you of the times he’d snuck out to the rodeo, told you how his friend had snuck him onto a bull that had bucked him off. He told you of the thrill, of how he’d felt so alive.

You looked at him with starry eyes, and he looked at you with soft adoration in his eyes as he told you how he had always found you sweet. Had always looked out for you. Surprised, you gently argued that he had never talked to you much when you were in school together.

He told you he would often try to sit near you, would always try to land himself in projects with you, but that their teacher thought he was a little bit of a bad boy, preacher's son or not. A soft smile made its way onto your face as he confessed these sweet thoughts to you, bowing your head downwards out of habit.

Feeling his rough fingertips under your chin made your head spin as he tilted your face up so he could see you again “you’re so sweet… so beautiful, little lamb” he whispered, cerulean eyes taking in your parted lips and your slightly furrowed brows.

“Rhett,” his name was out of your mouth, breathy and pleading, before you knew it. His breath seemed to hitch, before he groaned your name, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours - facial expression akin to fathers when he was in pain. It seemed as if his other hand was itching to pull you flush to his body, hovering in the air between you when the two of you heard Royal shouting Rhett’s name in the distance. Apparently the Sunday sermon was over.

“Rhett.” You all but whimpered, longing for his touch, for anything he would be willing to give you. The pained expression was back on his face as he looked down at you again, he gently cupped your face in between his large palms, letting his blue eyes devour your features before he spoke.

“Shh, little lamb, everything is alright. I’ll see you next Sunday, alright? I’ll try to see if I can come before that okay?” He whispered to you, and you nodded, watching as he smiled softly before letting his lips press a lingering kiss to your cheek before he straightened up and guided you back to your house.

Letting out a shaky breath, your mother appeared before you, letting you know which chores needed done before sundown. She took in your shaky state and asked if you were feeling alright.

“Preacher’s son had chosen some… very emotional verses today, I’m sorry mother.” The lie slipped almost too easily from your tongue, and your mother smiled sympathetically, offering you a small pat on your shoulder before she was off, singing praises about that preacher's son.

That week, Rhett appeared when you went to sell your knitted goods at the market, and he had taken his brother's place when you brought the pieces for the charity for the church. When he caught sight of you, those beautiful blues of his would look fiery and alive. His touches would linger, his words like sweet honey as he praised your handiwork. As he collected items for the charity, you decided to stay and help him for a while.

Soon enough, it was time to close the church doors, and it seemed as if Rhett could wait no longer. As the doors hid the two of you from the world, he whispered your name in desperation, cradling your face and neck in his large hands, tilting your head up.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, and a soft, needy noise escaped you at his close proximity, at his words and the way he held you so delicately between his hands.

“Please, Rhett,” you breathed out, daring to let trembling fingers clutch at his white button-up, hesitantly pulling him to you. “Oh, my sweet little dove,” he groaned before his lips came down on yours in a slow kiss, his lips moving against yours in a way that made you dizzy. His warm, wet tongue venturing into your willing mouth, slowly caressing your tongue, swallowing your soft gasps.

You had never been kissed like this before - it was intoxicating, and sent heat coursing through your very veins, down to your core. Rhett’s hand had slipped into your hair at some point and the sensation of his strong hold on you had a foreign sound leaving you, a sound you only made on those nights when you had tried in vain to replicate the fire coursing through you now.

The sound of a heavy door slamming, had Rhett pulling away, smiling down at you as he stole one last quick kiss before promising he’d see you that Sunday.

As Sunday came, you felt daring in opting for the white dress that was almost sheer in its thin fabric. It was usually paired with a white bra and top, and sometimes a cardigan. Today, you had foregone both bra and top, covering yourself with your usual cardigan to not raise suspicion with your mother.

To your great surprise, there was a knock on the door before noon, long before the sermon in church was over. Your mother opened the door to see Rhett, holding a bible in one hand and a soothing smile on his face as he explained he had picked out a lengthier passage today, and that his father would come by later. Your mother looked elated as she called for you, ushering you out the door with the preacher’s son.

As you caught sight of Rhett, that familiar ache burned within you, his very innocent touch on your elbow enough to have you leaning closer to him.

Today he led you further away, down the far end of the flowery meadow, where a couple of trees shielded the spot from direct view.

“Rhett-” you had barely finished his name when his lips crashed down on yours in a frantic kiss, his hands squeezing at your waist. “I’m sorry, little lamb. I haven’t been able to stop thinking of you,” he chuckled, gracing your cheek with the back of his hand. You smiled sweetly at him, leaning into his broad chest, letting yourself tuck your face into his warm neck as he held you.

“Rhett,” you tried again, biting your bottom lip as you wondered if this confession would have him fleeing “you… always make me feel funny inside,” you spoke hesitantly, feeling foolish for telling him.

“Can you tell me how I make you feel, honey?” His voice was dark, and his grip on you had tightened slightly, his one hand guiding your chin from out of its hiding place.

Licking your lips you looked into his stormy eyes “like my whole body is on fire… like, like I ache for you,” you furrowed your brows “I tried once, tried to… soothe it, but I- I didn’t know how, and it felt—“ you trailed off, embarrassed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rhett groaned, “you have no idea what you do to me, do you? Sweet little thing,” he murmured against your neck, where he started licking and kissing.

“I feel it now,” you confessed with a whine, and Rhett chuckled against your skin. “Mm, have I made you ache, little lamb?” He rumbled and you nodded “where does it ache, sweets?” He continued, his hands caressing your arms slowly.

Licking your lips, you detached yourself from the warm comfort of Rhett’s embrace, slowly removing your cardigan to reveal your all but bare breasts through the sheer fabric of your dress. Not entirely knowing why, or how, your hands slowly inched up the length of your body, keeping eye contact with Rhett as your dainty hands palmed at your breasts, a soft moan escaping you.

“It aches here, Rhett,” you mewled, letting one hand run down the length of your stomach as you whispered “and here, too,”

The growl that left the preacher's son was near animalistic, and his eyes burned with desire as you hitched your white dress up your thigh.

“Teach me” you breathed out as your eyes fluttered closed, and Rhett’s tall frame embraced you, holding you against his hard form. His lips were all over you, kissing you, loving you. His larger palms soon replaced your smaller ones, massaging and palming at your breasts - his nimble fingers teasing your nipples in a way that had you crying out in the pleasure that coursed through you. You knew only he could soothe the ache, you’d known it must be so.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet girl,” Rhett groaned against you, mouthing at your exposed collarbones before he let his lips latch onto your hardened nipple over the fabric of your breast, suckling, licking and nipping softly at it, only making you louder, mewling and crying out his name.

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke gruffly before he held you in his arms and guided you down on the flowerbed. “Don’t know if I want to teach you how to soothe the ache, baby,” he confessed as he continued to let his tongue wet the fabric of your dress. “Want to be the only one who can make you feel like this, the only one you give yourself to,” he moaned, switching to the other nipple and massaging the other in his hand.

His moans were getting whinier as your hands found his long locks, his suckling becoming more fervent, his hips grinding into your soft thigh.

“I’ll teach you next time, sweet lamb,” he grunted, pushing your dress up to rest by your waist, your glistening bare cunt a stark contrast against the flowers that budded around your body. Rhett moaned again at the sight, letting his two fingers slowly glide between your slick lips, taking in the soft moans you let out for him.

“Fuck I need to taste you,” he moaned, letting his shoulders rest between your thighs, groaning at how easily you spread yourself out for him. “So good for me, such a good girl,” he hummed, and the words sent fire coursing through your veins as you leaned on your elbows to look down at him. At the stroke of his tongue against your heat, your head fell back, a loud cry ripping from your throat.

“Rhett, oh my god!” You gasped, feeling his tongue swirl around parts of yourself you didn’t know could feel that good. As his wet muscle circled your entrance, you keened softly, canting your hips instinctively to get more. More of him.

“Chasing my mouth now, hm, sweet lamb?” He hummed, chuckling darkly as he licked a broad stripe up your cunt “Want to ride my face, don’t you, filthy girl?” His eyes burned into yours and at his words you couldn’t help the obscene moan you let out. Your body was on fire, your thoughts were starting to turn hazy as Rhett’s tongue brought your first orgasm crashing over your body.

“Fuck, you look like an angel,” Rhett groaned as he took in the sight of your slick coating your inner thighs, your pussy glistening in the sunlight, chest heaving and breasts fully visible as the wet fabric clung to them - nipples hard at the chill of the wind.

A whimper left you as he did, his body not touching you momentarily to rid himself of his clothes. “Rhett” you whined, and instantly he was on you again, kissing you, your slick shining on his chin as you tasted your essence on him.

“I need you,” you gasped, feeling something hard and hot between your legs. Looking down you saw that Rhett’s cock was achingly hard, his thick head red and leaking. You didn’t think you’d ever seen anything more beautiful. A pitiful mewl left you, your hand grasping at the hair at his neck to force his mouth down on yours again, as Rhett started guiding his cock between your lips, circling your clit before catching slightly on your hole and repeating the motion.

“You need me to take care of you, sweetheart?” Rhett’s voice was strained, filled with lust and need. You nodded weakly “Please, Rhett,” you gasped, the sensations he brought you wholly heavenly to you.

“That’s my good girl,” he whispered, caressing your cheek as you keened at his praise, his swollen head now sinking into your wet heat. “Oh” you gasped, whining at the stretch of his cock entering you.

“Doing so well, little lamb - taking my cock so well for me,” he soothed, leaving an open mouthed kiss on your lips as his forehead rested against yours. “It hurts… you’re so big,” you cried, and he was instantly soothing you with kisses, stilling with only half of his cock entered into you.

“Want me to stop, honey?” He murmured as he kissed at your neck. “No, please,” you murmured back, humming in pleasure as he dragged the front of your dress down to latch his lips onto your bare nipple, suckling and kissing at it, making you moan in pleasure as he pressed further into you.

“Rhett, Rhett-“ you babbled, soft cries leaving you as his hips finally became flush with yours. Tears were clinging on to your lashes, and Rhett softly soothed you, kissing at your cheeks and praising you.

“You’re so tight, feel so good wrapped around my cock… you were made to take me, baby, made just for me,” he moaned as he thrust slowly into you, the drag of his cock inside you enough to have your breath speeding up, wrapping your legs around Rhett’s hips to push him deeper.

You didn’t understand why Rhett let out the longest and loudest moan so far at that, but you wouldn’t complain. His skilled hands were soothing aches all over your body, one landing on your lower abdomen as his shallow thrusts made you feel like you were floating on the clouds.

Reaching for you, he pressed down where he could feel the head of his cock “you’re so full of me right now, darlin’” his voice was husky “can you feel me?” He continued and you could only nod as you mewled softly.

“I love being full of you,” you confessed, soft whines and whimpers leaving you as Rhett brought you closer and closer to heaven. “Want you in me always, never want you to leave” you mewled, gripping at his biceps as his pace picked up.

Rhett groaned at those words, soft curse words leaving his lips as he fucked into your wet core. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, sweetheart, have me drippin’ out of your cunt all day,” he grunted, leaving a sloppy kiss on your lips as he hiked your thigh higher up on his hip. His name almost slipped past your lips in a needy moan again, but you almost felt like you wanted to call him more. Something forbidden.

“R-Rhett” his name still stuttered on your lips, and he was smirking down at you, as if he knew you were a bad girl with impure thoughts. Perhaps you’d always been bad. As his fingers toyed with a spot above where you were connected, you ascended to the heavens with the help of him. His name along with unknown phrases coming out in quick succession as you felt warmth fill you as Rhett’s hips stuttered and he cried out your name in a strangled gasp.

Still inside you, Rhett let his body come down on yours, resting his head between your exposed breasts, mouthing at them softly. His hands caressed your sides lovingly as he told you he was yours now. And you were his. You’d given yourself to him, and you didn’t mind. You never wanted to leave this meadow - never wanted Rhett to leave you.

As the sun warmed your bodies, and you’d placed countless kisses to his bare shoulders, Rhett helped you dress, smiling at his slick already painting your inner thighs. Pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, he asked you;

“Can you get away again tonight?”

#rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott smut #preacher!rhett #smut #my writing

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rhiaarrow · 1 month

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Today I'm upcycling an old ramble from my notes!

Obviously it's all personal interpretation so feel free to chime in your own takes or correct me if you think I'm really far off with some egg 🙃

So without further ado, here are my personal headcanons of what each egg wears to sleep!

CHAYANNE -

Chayanne just sleeps in a t-shirt of any color and any color of sleep shorts, his ass does not care about pyjama colors just as long as they're comfortable.

He normally knocks out as soon as his head hits the pillow anyway so he couldn't care less what he's wearing and would happily sleep in his regular clothes some days.

Sometimes Phil will braid the top section of Chayanne's hair too after he braids Tallulah's, just to keep it out of his face while he sleeps.

But it's a loose short braid and with the length of Chayanne's hair not all of it can actually make it into the braid so the bottom section always hangs loose regardless of the braid or not.

DAPPER -

Dapper wears a fancy black silk buttoned pyjama shirt with red decals and details but it's always paired with hideously patterned pyjama pants.

They could have anything on them! Cartoon zoo animals, Rainbow zigzags, Multicolor polka dots, Cartoon food items, Tie dyed, Animal print, Fruit print, Old grandma couch print, 80s arcade carpet print, they could just have faces all over them! Literally ANYTHING as long as it doesn't match the pyjama top (because it drives his Dad absolutely crazy and he loves it).

He also wears a pair of thick plain fluffy socks over his feet at night, since demons naturally run cold to deal with the heat of their home, which unfortunately means Dapper having a Demon as his parent (as well as Em and Pomme) gets cold feet during the night if they don't wear fluffy socks.

She also sleeps with her hair tied up in a loose protective bun on top of their head to keep most of it out of his mouth and eyes while he sleeps.

LEONARDA -

Leo sleeps in cartoon patterned pyjamas but not matching sets, ohhhh no, this girl wears pieces from 2 completely separate sets which do not match at all.

For example she might wear bright blue and red spiderman pyjama bottoms paired with a pale purple pyjama shirt with a giant cartoon panda in the middle or a pair of rainbow striped MLP pyjama bottoms with a pyjama shirt covered in hundreds of close up Walter dog faces.

When she sleeps Leo leaves her hair loose to go absolutely everywhere and does not brush it before bed even though her hair gets tangled easily.

Which unfortunately means her Pa Foolich has to help her brush out the hundreds of knots every single morning but Leo absolutely refuses to sleep with it tied up no matter how much he tries to convince her it'd be a good idea.

She also insists on wearing socks to bed every single night but immediately kicks them off as soon as she actually falls asleep which Foolish finds hilarious.

RAMÓN -

Ramón sleeps in a plain tank top and he used to just sleep in a pair of plain sweatpants like his Dad but nowadays he sleeps in a pair of blue pac man patterned pyjama bottoms that he absolutely totally 100% did not steal from Pac's washing line outside his house.

The drawstrings are always tied to keep them up, since they're not kid sized, and he's clearly taken a pair of shears to the bottom but not re-hemmed them so there's loose threads everywhere (neither Fit or Pac makes a comment on it though, because as long as Ramón's happy they're happy so Pac just secretly sews up the hems and makes adjustments to the waistband while Ramon's with Fit and says nothing).

Ramón's hair is short enough that it doesn't make a difference how he wears it at night, it might stick up a bit in the morning from where he was laying on it but he wears the meathead all day so it doesn't matter and hell, Ramón would happily sleep in his meathead too if Fit would let him.

And obviously the moustache stays on while he's asleep, duh.

TALLULAH -

Tallulah wears a pair of black flannel pyjama pants and a short sleeved purple nightgown, which looks more like an oversized t-shirt but it has scallop hemmed edges that indicate that it is actually supposed to be down to her knees.

The purple nightgown has black and darker purple polka dots all over it and the hemming is done in black thread with a large cartoon skull decal on the center (that she doesn't really like because it looks too cartoonish).

Before she sleeps she brushes her hair and bangs and Phil braids it for her, into a neat and very tight French braid (or two braids depending on what he feels like) to keep it from going crazy while she sleeps.

And obviously when she goes to sleep her hearing aids are removed and put in a little box that she keeps on the windowsill above their big family bed so she can easily reach them in the morning.

RICHARLYSON -

Richarlyson sleeps in only a pair of sleep shorts, a variety of colors depending which house he sleeps in, right now it's been either red for Pai Cellbit, green for Pai Mike or black for Tio Bad since they're the only houses he's actually slept at so far (but he has blue shorts prepared for when they stay over at Pai Pac's and pink for staying with Mae Bagi).

He takes off the football shirt to sleep and no matter how many times her parents ask them to put on a pyjama shirt she doesn't, Richas just sleeps half naked because he can.

He also has a silk hair bonnet that he really should wear to bed every night but he doesn't like it, well no, they like it slightly better now that Pac sewed the outside to be mushroom patterned like her regular hat but he still doesn't wear it every single night no matter how many times her parents ask him to.

Obviously when he sleeps they have to remove his prosthetic leg so he sleeps with only a protective compression sleeve over their stump (like Pai Pac) and her leg just lies beside her bed, he has a prosthetic stand he's supposed to use for it, but again he doesn't do it every night regardless of her parents reminding him.

POMME -

Pomme wears one of the pretty matching pyjama sets, the ones with a cute graphic on the shirt and then that design is patterned smaller all over the bottoms.

She sleeps in a long sleeved pyjama shirt with red sleeves and a white chest with a green apple decal in the middle, paired with green pyjama trousers (the same shade as the decal) with red apples (the same as her sleeves) and white polka dots patterned on them.

Pomme also wears a pair of thick knitted socks every night because her feet get cold, these aren't intentionally matching her pyjamas but since it was Etoiles that knitted them back when he was the 'wool warrior' after losing to the code, they're all either one of the French flag colors or green so they match unless she wears the blue ones.

Her hair is neatly brushed by one of her parents and in a loose braid (or braids) that inevitably falls out overnight, but she won't sleep if it's tied too tight and she doesn't like having her hair tickling her while she tries to get to sleep, she honestly doesn't care what state it's in when she wakes up she can cover some of it with her beret anyway.

EMPANADA -

Empanada sleeps in a long sleeved ankle length nightgown with frilly edges and bow details, the full works.

The nightgown is a brown and pink tartan with white lace frills around the edges of the nightgown and down the seams and it's got little pink bows where they're necessary.

She also wears thick socks with grippy silicone bottoms while getting ready for bed so her feet don't get dirty or cold, but she doesn't wear them in bed, she takes them off and leaves them beside her bed so she can put them back on when she wakes up.

To actually sleep in she wears non grippy fluffy socks which she keeps in her bedside table drawer and they all have cute little kitty patterns on them since Bagi bought them in bulk when she learnt Em got cold feet during the night.

She sleeps with her hair left loose on the pillows but unlike Leo it doesn't go crazy overnight since Empanada is the kind of little girl who brushes her hair 100 times by herself before bed and brushes it another 100 times when she hears Bagi wake up in the room above hers so that it's always neat by the time her Mamae comes to get her in the morning.

SUNNY -

In the early days Tubbo didn't have kids pyjamas and he was too proud to ask another parent for a spare set so Sunny slept in one of Tubbo's shirts like a nightgown, unfortunately for Tubbo, she still does it now even after he's bought them pyjama sets in every color under the sun.

So every night Sunny sleeps in a stolen shirt of Tubbo's that comes down to her knees and the neck hangs off her shoulders a little, with a pair of pyjama pants and a plain vest top underneath.

Obviously she changes the color of the pants every single night in no particular rotation to wear all the fancy pyjama sets her Pa bought her to try and stop her stealing his shirts (it didn't work).

They also sleep with a orange and yellow striped silk bonnet on every single night to protect their hair so that she always looks good in the mornings even before her Pa does her hair for the day.

She obviously takes off her sunglasses to sleep but she replaces them with an orange sleep mask with 'SUNNY' bedazzled on the front in blue diamantes because if she doesn't wear the sleep mask then everything is way too bright when they're trying to sleep since they wear sunglasses all day.

PEPITO -

Pepito sleeps in a crew necked red and white striped onesie with grippy feet covers so Pepito doesn't fall over.

Pepito's hair is usually fine when Pepito sleeps but Pepito occasionally gets crazy bed head, but all Pepito does on those mornings is brush it out as much as Pepito can and put on a bandana or a beanie along with Pepito's glasses and gasmask so Pepito can try to make it look like a purposeful style choice (it works about 30% of the time).

CHUNSIK -

Chunsik always sleeps in an animal onesie, his Dad originally dressed him in a crocodile one but then his Mom bought him a shark one and they fight over which one he wears each night.

Chunsik doesn't care though, he's just happy to have two onesies now, and both of them have sharp teeth on the hood and a tail on the butt and he just thinks that's awesome!

His hair gets a little messed up from sleeping in the hoods but it doesn't get tangled easily so it's easy to brush it out in the morning before he puts on his hat.

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cielcreations · 2 months

Text

SCP-F10W3R5

Item #: SCP-F10W3R5

Site: 3M91R35

Object Class: Euclid Safe [ See Addendum SCP-F10W3R5-2 ]

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-F10W3R5 is to be given standard foundation living quarters as wall as appropriate meals when asked. SCP-F10W3R5 is allowed in commonplace areas as well as allowed to freely roam on the Safe Sites of the foundations. He is not permitted near the Euclid Sites and especially not permitted near the Keter Sites. There is no need for special containment procedures. Standard rules and regulations (he is to be given no weapons, no information, etc) apply.

Addendum SCP-F10W3R5-1: SCP-F10W3R5 is allowed outside in the garden when asked. He is not to be kept away from the garden unless the foundation is performing a test outside. At least two members of staff are to be outside with him at all times. He is not allowed to leave the garden area.

SCP-F10W3R5 often request items for his garden. Requests are to be approved by Site Directors.

List of Approved Requested Items:

Small Gardening Shovel

Watering Can

Pesticide (only to be given when outside with him, he is not to take it into his room)

Soil

Gloves

Hat

Overalls

Gardening Boots

Poppy Seeds

Lilac Seeds

Sunflower Seeds

Watermelon Seeds

Pumpkin Seeds

Bluebell Seeds

Daffodil Seeds

Dahlia Seeds

List of Denied Requested Items:

Gardening Shovel

Garden Shears

Zipties

Description: SCP-F10W3R5 is a twenty eight (28) year old Caucasian man of Scottish decent, approximately one point eight (1.8) meters in height. He has cyan hair and blue eyes, usually holding a singular flower or flower crown in his ear. He wears a simple white shirt with a rainbow flag on it, a blue cardigan, black jeans, and white socks. He walks around in socks, only wearing his gardening boots when going outside.

SCP-F10W3R5 is a generally very pleasant and kind, happy to talk with foundation members and cooperate with staff. He doesn't seem to mind the foundation, nor does he seem to care about the questions we ask, so long as we allow him the ability to garden. He answers as honestly as he can, only refusing if he doesn't know or uncomfortable with what is being asked.

SCP-F10W3RS has the ability to turn anything into different types of flowers. He is able to turn both living and nonliving items into flowers, but seems unable to control the types of flowers the items are turned into. Testing upon the flowers show that they have the same DNA as whatever flower they were turned into, showing no signs of being anything else.

Addendum SCP-F10W3R5-2: SCP-F10W3R5 used to be considered Euclid, due to his power of being able to make anything, including humans, into flowers. However, he has proven to be able to control said power and expressed he would no longer destroy foundation property or hurt foundation staff/D-Class personnel, so long as he is able to have a garden. He was given a test period and has proven to be Safe, as he has had no more incidents.

[ Interview Log ]

EXAMINER NOTES: This log was taken predating SCP-F10W3R5's change from Euclid to Safe class. This was taken after an incident of SCP-F10W3R5 destroying his bedroom wall in order to get outside before being caught and put in a solitary confinement cell.

Date: 20XX/04/23

Interviewer: Dr. Winson

Interviewee: SCP-F10W3R5

[ BEGIN LOG ]

Dr. Winson: SCP-F10W3R5-

SCP-F10W3R5: [Irritated] My name is Scott.

Dr. Winson: SCP-F10W3R5, you harmed two members of staff-

SCP-F10W3R5: I didn't mean to! It was an accident, I just wanted to get outside!

Dr. Winson: You are not permitted outside.

SCP-F10W3R5: And why not?! I don't do anything but sit inside all day! I see Scar and Jellie walking around all the time, they're allowed to freely roam, why can't I?!

Dr. Winson: You've... seen SCP-5C4R?

SCP-F10W3R5: Of course I have! Scar and I are friends! Ugh, whatever, that's not my point! My powers are completely harmless!

Dr. Winson: That's not entirely true-

SCP-F10W3R5: [Annoyed] Ugh, if you want to be all technical, then I guess yeah, technically, I can turn humans into flowers. But I don't because I don't want to hurt anyone. I literally just want to have a garden. Is that so much to ask?!

Dr. Winson: Unfortunately, yes it is-

[ Note: At this point, SCP-F10W3R5 had jumped across the table and placed his hand on Dr. Winson's chest, a clear threat of his ability. Armed members of staff had come into the room, but SCP-F10W3R5 did not budge. ]

SCP-F10W3R5: Okay, I'm done being nice. I can turn literally anything into bouquets. I could single-handedly destroy this entire foundation. So, unless you want me to release everyone in this building and turn everyone into bunches of flowers, I demand to be allowed outside and allowed to grow a garden. That is literally all I want.

Dr. Winson: [Pauses] I will... talk to O-5 to get it approved.

SCP-F10W3R5: [Removes himself from Dr. Winson] [Smiles] Thank you! I expect to hear back from you soon!

[ END LOG ]

Conclusion: Dr. Winson put in a request to O-5, detailing the severity. O-5 approved it under the conditions that SCP-F10W3R5 is heavily monitored. He was given the permission to grow a garden and, over time, his restrictions were lessened until he was reclassified as Safe.

No more incidents have occured.

#scott smajor #smajor95 #smajor #smajor1995 #empires smp au #empires au #hermitcraft smp #life series au #life series #scp au #scp foundation #Hermitcraft/Empires/Life Series SCP

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 5 months

Text

To the Other Side

Spontaneous fic I decided to write because I want to witness Fellow and Rollo interact (outside of fan art) 💕 I took a lot of inspiration from The Other Side and The Greatest Show from the same musical, and this fan comic and this fan art.

There’s just something so fun about Fellow’s happy, playful vibes mingling with Rollo being deadly serious and hateful 😂

***SPOILER WARNING: Glorious Masquerade and Stage in Playful Land!!!***

Imagine this…

The nearby town was the only reprieve Rollo had from Night Raven College. Magic was school-sanctioned (in theory), but the rule did little to curb the spells fired off in spontaneous spats between classes, pranks, resolving minor inconveniences, and—this made his lip curl the most—for fun. He turned the other cheek in the presence of instructors, chided classmates when catching them in the act, and vented his anger in private.

Soon, he told himself. Soon, this loathsome school exchange program would be over, and Night Raven College put behind him. But one man can only take so much sin before his patience threatened to give, irritation spilling over his carefully constructed walls.

Out here, a bus ride away from campus, he was free from those vile villains, however fleeting it was. The air cleaner, his mind clearer, as he breathed in the salt-kissed, balmy air. Waves lapping against the pier, the town’s comfortable hum as time rolled by, a soothing song.

He looked out at the waters, blue tipped with the white of sunshine dappling a painting. It was alive, yet at peace with the world. Knew its place.

Rollo's eyes drift shut, and he allowed the sea to envelop him. Quiet, calming, completely—

“Oya? Oya oya oyaaaaa?"

An exaggerated drawl invaded his ears. It was an unfamiliar man’s voice, slick with overly honeyed friendliness.

“You there, sir!” he called out. “Might I have a moment of your time?”

Ignore him, Rollo coached himself. He is not referring to you. There are many people in the town he could be accosting.

The crack of a clap on his shoulder suggested otherwise.

Rollo’s tranquility splintered and shattered, like glass dropped. His eyes snapped open again, alert and irritated.

A man had emerged on his left, and a small boy on his right. They stood too close for comfort, and seemed to be leering at him. From up, from down, encasing him in a web of excited stares.

The man had ginger hair in a widow's peak, the rest swept aside to make way for sharp eyes. His suit was fine at a glance, olive vest and neat cravat, violet coat with golden details and tassels cinched over it—but upon closer inspection, there was a hole in the pinkie finger of his long white gloves, and a miscellaneous diamond patchwork of patterns running down his trousers.

Something about him screamed “showman". Perhaps it was the jaunty half cape that hung off his left shoulder or the knee-high spats over shoes that clicked loudly, calling attention to him, with each step. Maybe it was the sparkle-studded top hat upon his head, nestled between two twitching ears, or the cheery flicker of his bushy tail, or the cane in hand, topped with a golden fox. (... Rollo suspected it was his boldness, the sheer audacity to insert himself where he wasn’t needed.)

The boy with the showman was a cat beastman, shorter and disposition shyer. His hair was a red-brown rat's nest even clamped under a smaller, brightly colored top hat, his fur just as unkempt. The only thing that seemed to fit on his slight frame is a lilac shirt and a small bow tie. His mustard yellow jacket looked as though it has had its body sheared in half, then the fabric stuck back onto the oversized sleeves, the pants attached to his overalls saggy and patched up with the wrong patterns. Even his boots were wrong—untied—and socks mismatched.

He blinked at Rollo through eyes that sloped downward, his expression lax. His mouth was steady beneath a spray of dark freckles. The boy held onto a comedically large hammer, hands still trapped in his enormous sleeves as he gripped its handle.

Suspicious, Rollo concluded. They are highly suspicious individuals.

“… May I help you?” he asked, not out of kindness but as a courtesy.

“Ohoh!!” The man grinned broadly. “That composed stride! That stern, solitary gaze! Those extravagant robes! So sensible, so conventional. There’s no doubt in my mind! You, my good man, must hail from THE Noble Bell College!”

Rollo’s mouth was quickly forming a frown. A fan of flattery he was not. "What of it?”

The stranger chuckled, the coy hand on Rollo's shoulder not budging. The warmth of it made his skin crawl in spite of the layers of fabric separating them. "You've come a long way from the Shaftlands then! Tell me, how do you find Sage's Island? Is it everything you’ve dreamed it to be—or, dare I say, more?”

“I was beginning to enjoy it, right up until you and your companion happened upon me,” Rollo grumbled, jerking his shoulder away from the stranger’s touch. “I do not have many opportunities to steal away into town.”

“You have my humblest of apologies!” The man bowed deeply. It took a few seconds of lag, but the boy clumsily followed suit. “Gidel and I, we’re the curious sort, you see! We come across many wary souls on our own travels, and we want to get to know them. Isn’t that right, Giddie?”

Gidel nodded eagerly.

The fox beastman stuck out a hand, taking Rollo’s before he was given the chance to reciprocate or decline. He shook firmly, with enough strength to rattle around Rollo’s bones. “Fellow Honest’s the name! And you, my esteemed gentleman?”

“Rollo Flamme.” His reply was curt, intended to cut the conversation short with its bluntness. He tried to sidestep the man, but failed as Fellow slid to block him.

“Rollo—may I call you that? Great, greeat!!” he gushed, again not pausing for a “no” to potentially slip in. “From just a glance, I can tell you’re an upstanding, diligent student. You’ve been hitting the books so hard, you’ve barely gotten in a wink of sleep!”

Rollo’s mouth pinched. It was not an uncommon comment for him to hear, but he wasn’t the least bit delighted to have it spun as a compliment either.

“You poor, poor boy! You must be a nervous wreck!” Fellow sighed, sympathetically stroking the back of one of Rollo’s hands with his own. The student shuddered and pulled away with a slight glare. Rather than taking note of the displeasure, Fellow brightened, snapping his fingers. “That’s it! You are a nervous wreck!! We must diagnose this case at once.”

To Rollo’s bewilderment, Fellow produced a pair of spectacles from his breast pocket and slipped them onto his face. Gidel whipped out a notebook and a pencil from his overalls, poised to take notes.

“Let’s have a look at you!”

Fellow circled the dazed Rollo, poking and prodding at the boy’s lean frame with the butt of his cane. It bit into his ribs, his cheek, his thighs, as Fellow rattled off nonsensical phrases, Gidel reverently scrawling them down. Rollo swatted at the fox as if dispelling a pesky bug—but Fellow was too fast, too slippery, to land a clean hit on.

He at last stepped back, snatching up the notes from Gidel. (Rollo caught a brief glimpse of the writing—it was nothing close to what could pass as language.)

Fellow raked a hand through his hair as he seriously took in the report of scribbles. With each passing second, his features increasingly crinkled with concern. "Oh me, oh my, oh dear!! Alas, it's just as I suspected!"

"... What?"

The glasses and the notepad were promptly discarded. Props made meaningless now that their purpose was fulfilled.

Fellow snaked an arm around Rollo. Firmer this time, not something to be shaken off. "You, my boy, are allergic! To this drudgery! This cage, these walls!" He wildly gestured with his cane to their surroundings. "This life you're trapped in! You're stressed, depressed, mad, sad, miserable, all of the above!"

Each adjective thrown out drew Rollo's brows closer and closer together until there was no hiding his grimace. “I do not appreciate the unwarranted judgments being made of my character.”

"You see! My hunch was right!" Fellow flicked at a corner of Rollo's frown. It deepened. "There's only one cure for what you have: a vacation! And luckily for you, I have exactly what you need right here…!”

Reaching into his sleeve, Fellow retrieved a single ticket, sandwiched between two lithe fingers. The sepia image of an amusement park wreathed in flags was frames in crimson, blue, and gold. Admit One, trumpeted the ticket, to Playful Land.

“It just so happens that I, Fellow-sama, am the manager to the fabled amusement park of wonder, hopes, and dreams... Playful Land! Have you heard of it? It's a magical place with a plethora of rides, games, song and dance! Why, there's even a big stage where any member of the audience can be a rising start! The food, all free and ample!! You can gorge yourself on fun!! Doesn't that sound like a swell dream?"

Rollo deadpanned. "If by 'dream', you mean dreadful. To encourage casting aside one's inhibitions to indulge in all manner of vices... Your establishment is no paradise. It is a den of depravity, hell masquerading as heaven.”

"Eh?"

The strong hostility seemed to throw Fellow for a loop, gave him pause. He fumbled for a moment before finding his words again.

"My, my! Your allergies are worse than I thought...! Every kid needs to kick back one in a while, and you most of all! Since we're such good friends now, I would be more than happy to gift this prized ticket, good only for tomorrow, to you free of charge!" He winked, giving a theatrical twirl of his cane. Stars and sparkles exuded out from it. A small charm, a harmless trick. "No need to thank me!"

Rollo's eyes flashed, instant recognition setting him on edge. Similar items infested the City of Flowers every Topsy Turvy Day—enchanted handkerchiefs, tambourines infused with meager magic.

Disgust roiled through him.

"We have no such friendship," Rollo snippily corrected him. Is this man delusional? "Furthermore, tomorrow is a school day. It wouldn't do to miss it in favor of gallivanting."

“Now, now, I insist!!” Fellow pressed. “Please accept this ticket and take a load off, enjoy yourself. Live a little, laugh a little! The last thing I would want is for you to miss out on this once in a lifetime opportunity!! Skipping a single day of school wouldn't be too harmful for a star-studded scholar like yourself."

His gaze flicked to Gidel. The two shared a keen glint, a subtle signal, then broke out into a show, a flurry of tap dancing along the pier.

"Trade in your typical for somethin' magical!” Fellow cried with the tip of his top hat. “Where it’s covered in all the colored lights!! Where the runaways are runnin’ the night!”

Gidel fished out a party popper from under his own headwear. When he tugged on its string, crackles filled the air, the popper letting loose a shower of glittering particles. Fellow belted out a hearty laugh, swinging his cane to catch confetti.

"Come on to the theater!!” he urged—mostly likely reciting some park motto, Rollo ventured. “In Playful Land... Life is Fun!!"

Fellow struck a pose with his arms thrust out, punctuating the performance. Gidel was less dexterous, and settled for an awkward approximation of the same pose.

Expectant for applause.

“… Charming display,” Rollo remarked dryly. He picked out a limp streamer from his hair. With a huff, he blew the remaining confetti off of him. “However, only a blithering fool would accept such a dubious offer. Is that what you take me for, Mr. Honest? A blithering fool?”

Fellow recoiled, his ears flattening, and his bravado faltering. Gidel glanced at the older man, soulful eyes full of worry.

"You must have fantasized about a day off before! Don't you want to get away and forget about your work and worries? Don’t you crave freedom?”

"No."

"What of the desire to chase thrills? To see and to experience what few others have before, or to relive a childhood you've perhaps never had? Don't you want to cut loose? Go crazy? Party all day?"

"Never."

"How about stardom? Play a different role? Have you a longing to stand upon a grand stage, hundreds of thousands of adoring fans applauding your passionate performances?"

"Not once."

His patience wore thin like a braided rope down to its final connecting threads. Rollo tapped a finger against his folded arms. "Are you finished? I tire of my precious time being wasted. If you will kindly excuse me."

He turned back toward the town. Rollo was a few steps along a shop-lined street when, suddenly, the odd duo reappeared. They skidded to a panting stop before Rollo, walling off his path. Well, more Fellow than Gidel.

A look of annoyance ripped across the fox’s face. “HOLD ON!! What kind of person plays hard to get and then walks away from a conversation like that?! Would it kill you to stop and just listen to me, you bra…”

Fellow petered off midsentence and backpedaled, smoothing out his spite into a smile. "...aaave soul! I've yet to meet someone as assertive and as self-assured as you are.” He reached out and brushed off an invisible fleck of dust from Rollo’s robes. Simpering. “You're a man that knows exactly what he wants!”

Rollo bristled. He hadn't missed the sudden shift in his chummy behavior. All the more reason to suspect them. They’re very clearly up to something.

"Yes, yes, I can see it now!" Fellow continued, stroking his chin in contemplation. "What you seek is not amusement! You’re longing—no, aching—for something far greater, more ambitious!"

He leaned into Rollo's ear, cupping a hand to it. Gidel came from the other side, staring up curiously. Fellow’s voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "Power, perhaps? The magical kind, even.”

Rollo visibly stiffened.

“Oh, have I got your attention?” The curve of Fellow’s mouth cocked, going crooked. A triumphant smirk. “You’re interested, I know it! Buried in those bones of yours, there's an ache, a thirst, for knowledge that you can't ignore!"

The fox wiggled a finger, his words rapt with wonder. “Playful Land is the product of maaany wise and talented mages! If you pay us a visit, you might be able to learn a thing or two from observing how we run the show. It's a valuable learning opportunity for a student of an arcane academy! How about it, kid? This surely is a deal you wouldn't want to pass up!!"

There was no indication of any feeling in Rollo's face. His eyes had glazed over, as though haunted, a veil shrouding his vision. He stared at Fellow as though he were a distant phantom.

Spin, spin. Fellow's cane did a little dance of its own. "Think of it: the fire, the freedom, the flood of magic. Blinding and outshining anything that you could know!"

Fire.

Rollo blinked. The veil lifted, and the man was rudely roused from an awake slumber. Neutrality replaced with a kindling emotion, sparse embers that did not yet know they would converge into flames. "... What did you say?"

"Everything you could ever want. Everything you could ever need," Fellow tapped the waiting ticket, "is here right in front of you. This is where dreams are made, where the impossible comes true: Playful Land. This is where you want to be—"

The fire flared, bile rising from his throat. Beneath his skin, blood came to a rapid boil. Hot, screeching, an intense fever pitch. The heat like a knife slashing through strings.

Hands lashed out, fervently seizing Fellow's arms. Rollo clutched onto him, a desperate parishioner to a priest preaching at the pulpit. But there was no such blind devotion in his expression, only something wild, untamable, twisted.

“What did you say?!” Rollo hissed, low and dangerous. Threatening.

Gidel jumped and skittered behind Fellow, hiding himself from view. The fox's hand found its way to Gidel's back to support the trembling boy.

"You've been mouthing off for quite some time, and I've been far more patient than you deserve." Rollo cut to the mustard yellow sleeve clinging to Fellow's leg. "You have a child with you. Refrain from spouting such ridiculous vulgarities in front of them.”

“Wh-What…!!”

“Is this the game you play?” Rollo’s grip tightened. Voice hoarse, a pained shudder threading through it. “Tempting children with the promise of whimsy and fun, encouraging them to be intoxicated by magic...!"

While you stand by, doing nothing.

An untimely demise by magic, a fate he knew all too well.

Consumed alive in a hellish inferno. Only a curtain of smoke and ash remaining. Slipping through his grasp when he was standing right there.

Brother...

Hot tears stung his eyes—but they dissipated near instantaneously, staved off by his burning fury. Anger and upset rapidly overtaking him.

Not again. He would not stand for it to happen, would not surrender. This, he swore, with a resolute breath, and cried out with all of his seething soul.

"Hmph! I thought you witless before, but it seems you are not a clown," Rollo spat. "You are the entire circus."

Fellow gave a light, cumbrous chuckle—but his eyes narrowed. Gone was his cheer, his merrymaking. What remained was serious, astute. "... Hey now, that's a scary face you're making. Is this really how you want to spend your days? Let's lighten up a little."

A bitter scoff sounded.

“Continue this farce, and I will not stop at raking you across the coals," Rollo warned darkly. Fire licked his fingertips, close to bursting free. "I will show you just how scary I can be. The righteous flames of judgment are cleansing. They will purge all sin, reducing the wicked to mere specks of ash."

He released Fellow with a slight shove. The older man fell back a few steps, finding his balance again when Gidel pushed him upright with a silent grunt.

“If you understand, then I will be on my way. Good day to you.”

With the path cleared, Rollo stormed right by them. Robes billowing in a passing sea breeze and austere face to the town, he almost looked the part of a hero emerging triumphant from battle.

Back to his everyday life, the same side as always.

Fellow gaped after the boy’s retreating figure. At the prey slipping away from every carefully placed trap he and Gidel had laid out for him.

"Well, I never...!!" he groused. A fresh, foul mood ripe like a rain cloud over his head, Fellow discarded his smile for a sneer. "HIIIIIIE~ What was up with that arrogant brat?!”

Gidel shrugged, his comedically large sleeves flopping as he threw his hands up.

"Damn it!!" The curse was out before Fellow could cut it off. "Next time I see that guy, I'll teach him a lesson for looking down on us!"

He angrily kicked at a soda can on the ground—abandoned by a wayward townsperson. With a CRUNCH, the can launched into a nearby lamp post, ricocheting off its base and bouncing back. The can connected with Fellow's kneecap. He yelped and seized his injury, trying to contain the pain.

Eyes blown open in alarm, Gidel rushed to him. The boy was waved off, Fellow's whimpers eventually dying down.

"My sulking worried you? … You're seriously too good for this cruddy world, Gidel," Fellow muttered, shaking his head. He ruffled the cat beastman’s mane of hair, the roughness of it grazing the unguarded pinkie poking out from his one damaged glove. "Never change, got that?“

Gidel bobbed up and down in agreement.

“Good.” Fellow drew himself up and adjusted his jacket. “Tch. Kids these days sure are spoiled rotten. You promise them the world and they still blow you off."

His thoughts settled on the boy from before. The remarks they had traded, the resistance the target had put up.

I thought a bit of magic would help loosen the kid up—but Life is Fun didn’t work on him, Fellow mused. I cast it so many times too. Between my magic and charisma, they usually cave so easily.

Yet Rollo had regarded him like a man possessed, had regarded him with such hatred. The mad, tormented look in his face. An iron barrier against the fluttery, champagne laced lull of his spell.

"... Must be somethin' wrong with him," Fellow concluded. All kinds of fucked up in the head and in the heart. "Yup, that's gotta be it! This Fellow-sama's way too cool to be outdone by any old student.”

Again, Gidel nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s alright, there’s bound to be flops! We’ll have to pick out our next mark much more cautiously.” Fellow shaded his eyes and squinted. “Let’s see…"

Gidel trailed after his gaze. Combing through a crowd for easy pickings was child’s play for Fellow, but the young boy struggled to hone in on the monotony of minute details. Little nervous tics and hesitations, chinks in armor to exploit. They were present, but Gidel’s eyes were like a broken camera. Zooming in, then out, blurring, never able to fully focus.

His attention strayed, slowly meandering back back to the piers. The sea was a simple thing compared to the town—natural, unrestrained. So easy to understand.

“Maybe that one… no, no, that would never work,” Fellow mumbles to himself. “They’re in too large of a group to comfortably break through. The girl over there? Tsk, the parents are hovering, can’t risk that…”

His eyes ran along the bustling town and along the docks. Like fingers along book spines or piano keys, a quick, light caress. Effortless.

Then he came to a full stop.

Did a double take.

And stared.

Hard.

There, lazily parked by the piers, was a small gang of boys, each dressed in the same smart black blazer and trousers, vests and armbands an assortment of colors. Tucked into their breast pockets were fountain pens topped off with magestones. Their style, those emblems, famous.

Fellow smacked Gidel’s back, snapping the boy to attention.

“Look alive, Giddie! You see that?” He pointed with his cane. “Those uniforms are…!”

His face lit up with understanding. Mouth ajar, eyes wide, brows raised.

“We’re in luck today!” Fellow snickered. He tugged on Gidel’s sleeve, yanking the youth to him. “Hurry, let’s get in front of them! We’ll cut them off, pretend as though we’ve bumped into them by accident. Then, we pounce…!!”

Gidel lifted his hammer—a cheer.

The duo scampered down the street, hearts drumming in their chests and adrenaline pumping. In that moment, they brimmed with all the hope and the excitement that Rollo had failed to exhibit. They were children racing to a dream destination, fools wishing upon stars.

Elsewhere in the town, someone sneezed.

Rollo pressed his handkerchief to his nose, retreating further into his robes. “… The weather suddenly took a turn for the worse. What an ominous omen.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #Rollo Flamme #twst imagines #Fellow Honest #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #Gidel #Gidell #something no one asked for #Ferro Honest #imagine this

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wolf-tail · 5 days

Note

WOLFY IMPORTANT QUESTION ABOUT LORBAAA AND THE WORLD BAAERS

Are they shedding sheep or do they have to be sheared?

(Shedding sheep, if you didn't know are sheep that lose their wool naturally and don't need shearing. Unfortunately it makes them look a little ridiculous when they lose random chunks of wool at a time and end up like half bald)

They need to be sheared, they usually have daemons to do it for them. World Bearer wool is very soft and makes wonderful yarn. Every self-respecting Slaaneshi demon has at least one sweater or scarf made from the stuff, and Slaanesh themself's favorite pair of socks is made from Lorgar's own wool

#wordposting

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toastyeverlark · 1 year

Text

“So, how’s it working out with Peeta?”

Katniss doesn’t turn to look, and instead continues trimming the delphiniums in the garden.

“It’s going great. He’s very good to me.”

Katniss cringes upon hearing the soles of Ines’ shoes crush against the freshly-mown grass.

“Peeta’s good to everyone, though,” Ines grins like a cat.

“And he should be. Isn’t it just something a decent human being should be doing?”

Ines digs her foot into the grass. “Of course it is. What I mean is, you’re not all that special to him, Katniss Everdeen. This marriage will end sooner or later, and it’ll be Peeta who instigates it.”

“And you’re quite a pathetic attention-seeker, aren’t you?” Katniss drops the pair of shears and turns to face her.

“You don’t know anything about Peeta Mellark, do you?” Ines trails around the garden, her every step aggressive and rough as her shoes dig into the ground, causing striking damage to the greenery.

“You don’t know that he doesn’t take sugar in his tea,” Ines stops to pluck a flower from a bush. Katniss had just prepared him a cup of tea with a whole pack of sugar in it a couple of days ago, which he had finished without a drop left in the cup.

“You don’t know that he likes to sleep with the windows open,” Ines tosses the flower behind her. Katniss had asked on their first night together if it was alright for the windows to be shut, and he had told her he liked sleeping with the windows shut as well.

“You don’t know anything,” Ines looks at Katniss in the eye, “You don’t know anything because you didn’t grow up with him, you two aren’t meant to be together, and this whole marriage of yours is just a miserable twist of fate.”

Katniss glares at her without a word, her fists clenched.

Ines, satisfied with her reaction, twirls around and walks away as if nothing had happened.

Katniss picks up the shears and goes back to trimming the delphiniums, and somehow it gives her some sort of comfort, but not for long. A tear rolls down her cheek.

Katniss doesn’t even notice that the front door’s been opened and shut. She doesn’t even notice when Peeta announces his arrival while kicking off his socks and shoes at the door.

She sits sullenly on the floor of their bedroom, staring at a spot on the wall.

“Katniss?” Peeta lightly taps her shoulder, which startles her. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

“Oh, uh yeah, yeah. I’m fine. How’s the bakery today?”

“I brought back your favourite. Let’s have it in the kitchen,” he smiles and helps her up and leads her to the kitchen table, where a delicious-smelling loaf of raisin-and-nut bread sat.

“I had some spare time today, so I decided to make this for you since you haven’t had it in a while. It’s just the way you like it,” Peeta says as he slices the loaf into pieces with a knife.

He places a slice on her plate, “Have it while it’s warm. I ran home from the bakery just so it wouldn’t cool.”

“Thank you, Peeta,” Katniss takes a bite and breaks out into a grin. “You never disappoint.”

Peeta observes her quietly as he eats his own slice. Normally, she would be telling him about her day and rave about how she was getting better at managing the garden, something she never imagined she would be able to do.

For some reason, the crumb of bread on the table is seemingly more interesting to Katniss tonight.

“Peeta?”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t realise you like your tea without sugar.”

He stares at her, surprised. “It’s fine. I like it both ways actually.”

“You could’ve told me the other day when I dumped a whole pack of sugar into your tea, you know.”

Peeta laughs. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not that important whether I have sugar in my tea or not. You prepared it for me, and that’s all that matters.”

Katniss sighs. “You didn’t tell me you like to sleep with the windows open either. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work, you know. It’s supposed to be me and you. Not just me.”

Peeta smiles, and pulls her chair towards him. He takes her hands and massages them gently.

“I want it to be just you.”

“We’re in an arranged marriage, Peeta. It’s not like the movies, it doesn’t always work out. I don’t know much about you, I’ve never really done anything for you. You’ve been the one doing everything for me. And for some reason, you seem to know me so well with everything that you do.”

“Katniss,” he looks down at her hands and then her face. “Why do you think that of yourself? Just because Ines tells you that you don’t know about my preference to sleep with the windows open and to have no sugar in my tea, you think this relationship is doomed? Why haven’t you thought about how you decided to learn gardening because I told you that I like gardening? Why haven’t you thought about how you always save the best parts of the game you hunt for me? I’m still learning about you, Katniss, I’m still finding more parts of you to love everyday, as if there isn’t enough to love about you already. I know you’re doing the same.”

He reaches out to hold her face and pulls her in for a long kiss.

“Okay?”

Katniss nods with an embarrassed smile, her cheeks red and her head dizzy.

“How did you know about Ines?”

Peeta snorts. “I guessed that she’s been trying to give you some ideas. Ines has always been annoying, even when we were kids. I hoped that she would grow out of it, but I guess some people are just like that forever.”

Katniss chuckles. “Shall we sleep with the windows open tonight?”

“Katniss.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlark drabble #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #katniss x peeta #the hunger games #FINALLY A DRABBLE AFTER FOREVER HOPE YOU LIKE IT GUYS my inspiration will probably dry again help

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azdmathings · 1 year

Photo

Looks like they both are enjoying this

#socks #black socks #guys in socks #shear sock #sock play

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slutforleeminho · 11 months

Note

I’ve seen the maid minho and I didn’t dare to ask u for MAID LIX but ITS MAID LIX?!? idk like him wearing high things socks and the reader underwear? That would soo hwtt likee STFU I’ve thinking for days bout that and him being all subby and the fem reader being whipped for him ughh oh n the minho fic was soooooo goooddd i luv ur writing btw i talked alot lmao have a nice day/night thxx <3333

maid lix holds a special place in my heart. tysmm!

MY THOUGHTS ON MAID LIX<3

he would be standing in front of the full body mirror, scanning his eyes over every detail of his outfit to make sure everything looked perfect for you. everything had to be perfect for you.

you would enter the room after returning from a shopping trip with your friends, taken off guard by the sight of him. he was wearing white, shear thigh high stockings, and his pink maid dress. he had on a pink hoodie over the dress— the sleeves so long that they covered his hands and created little paws, he looked like a little kitten— so all that could’ve seen was the pink lacy skirt.

he noticed you in the mirror and quickly turned around. “you’re back!” he smiled so big his eyes almost disappeared. his freckles were darker too, decorating his cheeks so perfectly.

“y-yeah,” you stuttered out, but composed yourself by clearing your throat and continuing. “ i got you something” you set the shopping bags on the bed and grabbed the bag that had the mentioned “something” in it.

“you did?” excitement washed over his features as you reached your hand into the bag.

“well i actually got them for me but i think you would look way better in them” you pulled out a white lacy pair of panties, with a teeny tiny bow on the front. his eyes widened and his hands reached forward to take the item from your hands so he could examine it closer. he felt the soft material under his fingertips and he couldn’t deny that the thought of wearing something that was yours made his dick harden.

“these are so pretty. are you sure you want me to have them? you said you bought them for your-“ he started handing them back to you, shaking his head as a sign he couldn’t except your gift. “yes lix i want you to have them,” you took a step closer to him “i want to see you in them” you pushed back a small piece of hair out of his face and placed your palm over his cheek. he nuzzled closer to your hand, closing his eyes and humming in contentment.

“now will you put them on for me, pretty?”

—

once again he stood in front of the full length mirror, admiring the beautiful white, thin material covering his sex.

you sat on the edge of the bed, scanning your eyes over every detail of him. but not staying away from his crotch for too long. “give me a twirl” he hesitantly spun, giving you a show. his hands held up the bunched up fabric of his dress, so you could see clearly. “so pretty” you stood from the bed and trotted over to him. he shook as you ran your fingers over his exposed thighs, feeling his skin prickle from your touch.

“let me make you feel good hmm” you grazed your fingers over his prominent bulge before palming him. he let out a little whimper before nodding quickly.

you led him to lay down on the bed, the dress scrunched around his waist. “now let’s see how these look around your ankles” you yanked them down his legs before he could respond. his cock sprung forward, finally free from the confines. he was so hard and leaking pre cum. you grabbed the base of him and slowly drug your fingers up his shaft, just enjoying the weight of him in your palm. when you reached the tip, you ran your thumb over the slit, spreading his essence to use for lubricant. “oh-“ he whimpered when you squeezed him a little harder. you stroked him faster causing him to be a moaning mess. his hips jutting forward in search of more friction, which you gladly gave him by placing his tip in between your lips and sucking hard. “oh shit!” his back arched and his eyes screwed shut. his thighs tensed up, signaling he was getting close. “are you gonna cum, lixie?” he didn’t use his words to answer. he simply gripped the sheets and squeaked as he reached his peak. but before he could quite get there you pulled away, ceasing everything you were doing.

his hand shot to grab his throbbing dick and finish the job himself. but you grabbed his wrist and pinned it above his head. “you’re getting brave aren’t you, pup? perhaps i’ve spoiled you too much” his breathing was erratic.

“why did you…” his voice trailed off but you knew what he was asking.

“do you really think you deserve to finish so quickly after that little stunt you pulled? getting all dressed up, cause you knew i wouldn’t be able to resist you” his breathing halted and his mouth closed into in this line. he couldn’t even look you in the eyes now. “i knew it. you knew what you were doing” you tucked a finger under his chin, forcing him to look at you. “do you not have anything to say for yourself?”

“i- i’m sorry. i just wanted your attention” he didn’t look at your eyes, he was too busy staring at your lips.

“oh honey all you had to do was ask” that dominant show was melting away, he was too sweet and innocent to punish. “what do you need from me, love?”

“want to be inside you” his big puppy eyes stared up into yours. how could you say no?

you slipped your pants off, followed by your underwear. once you were hovering over him once more, he had a look on his face that you couldn’t decipher. “what’s the matter, baby?”

“can i be on top this time?” you thought your heart would explode at his words. you teased him and ruined a perfect orgasm. and he still wanted to make love to you. “of course you can” you flipped over on your back and spread your legs open for him to slot between. he hovered over you and placed his lips on yours. the kiss was eager and messy. he wanted to slow down but he was so needy, the remnants of his spoiled orgasm lingered in the pit of his stomach. it was hard to hold back.

he was the first to break the kiss, leaning back on his knees and lining himself up with your entrance. his face contorted with pleasure as he pushed the tip in. his eyebrows knitted together and his bottom lip in between his teeth. it took everything inside of him not to blow right now, but he wanted to make you feel good first. once he bottomed out he took a moment to breathe, finally releasing the breath he was holding in. you held the skirt of his dress up so you could have the perfect view of him so snug inside you.

he finally started moving, starting of slow but deep. hitting every sweet spot. he started to pick up the pace, causing you to whimper every time he slammed into you, pressing up against your cervix. “just like that, lix.” you threw your head back, just enjoying the feeling of him filling you up so good, until that familiar feeling started to fill your lower belly. “shit i’m gonna cum”

“yeah?” his voice was like a squeak, cracking as he spoke. he grabbed the back of your right thigh, pushing it up and close to pressing against your stomach. the new position gave him access to go even deeper. “fuck!” your vision went dark as you came, your legs shaking and your walls clamping down on felix, which pushed him over the edge. he came inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

he collapsed on top of you, nuzzling his face into your neck as he came down from the amazing high. you hugged him close and played with his hair, pulling on the strands every now and then, making him grunt. the vibrations of his deep voice tickled.

“that tickles” you giggled and shied away from him, but he only pulled you closer, placing wet kisses all over your neck. “come on big boy let’s go shower” he whined and held you tighter. he was still inside you so you did the only thing you could think of to get his attention. you clenched your walls around him as hard as you could. he flinched from the overstimulation.

“don’t do that!” he whined and pulled himself out of you. you could already feel his cum dripping out of you.

“well don’t ignore me! and don’t forget i’m still contemplating on that punishment” you said only half jokingly.

“fiiiine” he helped you of the bed and into the shower in which he joined you. “i love you” he said while kissing your neck.

“i love you more, lix”

I’m SOOO sorry this took so long! i’ve been having trouble writing fics that i actually think are good. tbh i’m not very fond of this one but i felt horrible not responding for so long:(

@yumiblogs @fawnpeaks

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fruitcoops · 9 months

Text

Chicken Strip(tease)

O'Knutzy Week Day 3: Cooking Mishap + Bondage! For @oknutzyweek2023 and many thanks to @lumosinlove <3

It was January in Gryffindor—in other words, fucking miserable. Leo gave himself a little extra grace for that when the screaming toddlers at the corner store started feeling a tad too relatable. The weather couldn’t decide between sleet, hail, and snow, so it vomited out some nightmare combination of the three with the magnificent addition of near-freezing temperatures from dawn (short) till dusk (even shorter). Any of Leo’s grumbling was sharply silenced by a blast of shearing wind to tell him to shove it up his ass.

The living room plants had a special light to mimic the sun during the months of garbage disposal weather.

Leo had the oven. And he was going to bloom and grow and photosynthesize, goddammit.

Simmer pots went from a monthly occurrence to a weekly staple—ostensibly, he needed to use up the extra oranges before they went bad. They had soup every night for a week, and as the sky grew darker, he transitioned to frequent roasts. The three of them could demolish a hunk of pork in one sitting without any trouble at all; Leo was sure anemia spooked and ran the second it glanced their way.

“What’s—”

“Veggies.” The first two rows of tiles by the oven were warmer than the rest of the floor. He had discovered that just after Cap’s birthday. “Carrots, celery, beets. The works. How’s your mom’n’em?”

“My—they’re good.” Finn’s socks muffled his footsteps. Leo stared into the tiny oven window, entranced by golden light. “Yeah, no, everyone’s fine. Excited to see us for the holidays. Mom sends kisses.”

Leo hummed. That would be nice. He wasn’t keen on winter any further north than Kentucky, but the O’Hara house was always warm. Warmer than Rimouski, at least. It was a testament to Logan’s love that he didn’t ask Leo to bury himself in snow that could be measured in meters.

“…you okay, baby?”

“Hmm?” He scooted an inch closer to the oven and gleefully wiggled his toes on the nearly-too-hot tile. “Mhmm.”

“You’re sitting, like, really close to the oven.”

“Warm,” Leo supplied. Wind shrieked down the brick siding of their building and he closed his eyes, leaning in. The oil was starting to sizzle.

“Please don’t bake yourself.”

The concern in Finn’s voice made him pause. He blinked. His face was beginning to prickle.

In the glass reflection, Finn squatted with a soft groan. His fingertips brushed Leo’s spine. “Le? You listening?”

“Mhmm.” The carrots would be ready to caramelize soon. Maybe he could do another soup as a side course.

“You gotta sit back, Butter.”

“ ‘S warm here.”

Finn sighed. “C’mon. Let’s get you a blanket.”

Arms came around his chest to haul him off the ground like a ragdoll. “No,” Leo protested weakly, reaching for his little square of salvation.

“Yes,” Finn mimicked. His sweater sleeves gave gentle cushion to Leo’s underarms as he was (dragged) hustled to the other side of the kitchen; Finn paused, moved to his front, and boosted him onto the countertop with only a quiet grunt of effort.

Leo couldn’t help the slide of his lower lip. “But…”

“Uh-uh. No baked boyfriends, please.” Finn leaned up to kiss his cheek, but swerved an inch before he made contact. “Oh, that looks tasty.”

Leo exhaled miserably and plopped his forehead onto Finn’s shoulder. A hand found his nape within seconds. “Chicken.”

“I see that,” Finn laughed. “Looks great, honey.”

“Might have soup, too.”

“You’re really feeling the soup, huh?”

“Tasty. Easy.”

“It’s amazing,” Finn agreed. He toyed with a few overgrown curls, then leaned toward the doorway. “Lo! Le made a chicken!”

An instant ruckus followed—Leo buried his smile in Finn’s neck. For someone so small, Logan couldn’t do anything quietly. “A chick—oh, coucou, you look cozy.”

“I hate January, and I hate the weather, and…” Leo groaned and pushed his face into the warm, spicy hollow of Finn’s neck and shoulder. “And I really like soup.”

“Okay,” Logan laughed. “Is that what we’re having?”

There was a nudge to his arm; Leo lifted it to make room and shuffled Logan against himself, resting his chin on the top of his head. Perfectly snuggle-able, that one. Warm, too. He knew he kept him around for a reason.

He had made a bit of a mess, when he really looked at it. The chicken was a work of art but he had been more concerned with lingering near the oven than cleaning as he cooked, which left a disaster of impressive proportions sprawling across the countertop. A small pool of olive oil oozed along the tiles. Pepper caught the edge and diverted it onto a spoon. He followed the lazy river past a bowl, a ramekin, and a spoon (half-burnt from one of Logan’s ill-fated baking attempts) before catching at the corner of the pan. A soft hiss followed, then cooled.

Before his very eyes, his Jacques-Pepin wet dream of a rotisserie chicken sat up and began to dance burlesque.

A startled laugh burst from him. One crispy leg lifted in arabesque—a wing shimmied at him, seductive and gorgeous and golden. Leo turned to muffle himself in Logan’s hair, unable to look away despite mild horror at Finn’s fingers all over his moment of divine inspiration. “Oh my god.”

The chicken paused, gave a sultry half-turn, and wiggled its voluptuous white meat at him.

The giggles flooded forth, and he simply couldn’t stop them. Logan’s chest shook under his hand.

“I can’t…” Finn’s tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to beckon with a wing. “God, you’ve got this thing all done up in—fucking bondage or something.”

“It’s trussed!” Leo propped his chin on Logan’s head. A warm hand folded over his own. He made eye contact with Finn and pressed a kiss to Logan’s ear. “And it’s perfect.”

“Course it is, it’s you.”

His grin made his cheeks hurt. “Stop playing with your food and come kiss me, Chicken Boy.”

#leo knut #logan tremblay #finn ohara #cubs #oknutzy #oknutzy week 2023 #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #coast to coast #sweater weather #fluff

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kokofromwattpad · 1 year

Note

hi!! not sure if you're taking reqs, but if you are

can i request a reader who is failing all their classes gets comfort from Riddle? and maybe some help ;;

TRY AGAIN

Featuring: Riddle Rosehearts

Plot: You were always a slow learner. So it was no surprise when you made almost no progress in the exams. But this time, it was different, Riddle, your loving boyfriend had been tutoring you so that you could pass, only to give him your unsatisfactory results. How does he react? Cw: comfort, established relationship, Riddle x GN!reader A/N: I actually cried on the last day of grade six because I got such shitty grades in maths and was worried that I would not be allowed to go to the next grade.

You stood amongst the elbow-shoving crowd in front of the brown bulletin broad, where the ranking for the recent exams were pinned. You had been spending the last two minutes trying to shove your way to the front to see if your ranking had improved at all.

A few Heartslabyul students had noticed what you were trying to do and happily helped you to the front of the crowd. They were honestly just trying to get on your good side so that you would save them from your boyfriend, which you would have done anyways, but it's nice getting a bit of special treatment every now and then.

Once you got to the first year rankings, you traced your pointer finger from the top to the bottom of the page, searching for your name.

When you finally saw it, your heart dropped. '89 in ranking' In a year, there are about 100-120 students, so you being oh-so-close to the bottom probably meant that you would have to redo a year if you don't pull your socks up and try harder in the next exam period.

Quickly, you wrapped your thoughts up and shoved your way out of the mosh pit and ran down the hall to try and exit the building as fast as you could.

As you were walking through the courtyard, you spotted Riddle and Trey speaking to one another. As if Riddle had sensed you, he whipped his head in your direction and gave you and heartwarming smile and a shy wave.

Your expression twisted from desperation into panic when you saw your boyfriend. Quickly, you ran in the opposite direction of him, leaving your boyfriend and Trey by themselves.

Riddle curiously watched your fleeting figure leave the court yard into the direction of Ramshackle. Swiftly, he told Trey that he would be arriving back at the dorm later than usual and then quickly followed your steps to the old dorm.

Just as you entered, your chin bobbing up and down, a shear sign that you were about to cry, a knock on the door snapped you out of your episode quickly. You gathered yourself and went to open your door.

Your short, red haired boyfriend stood on your dusty doorstep, his eyebrows scrunched together in worry. You felt guilt wash over your mind. You must have worried him when you ran away without telling him anything!

You stepped to the side to let Riddle come in and followed after him into the living room, where he plopped himself down on a two seater sofa. He signaled you to sit next to him and you obliged.

Riddle gathered both your hands into his as he looked into your eyes. "Is something bothering you dear?" he softly questioned you.

And those were the words that made your tears spill. Salty tears run down your cheeks, turning them light pink. Your chin tugged up as you started to sob.

Riddle was startled, but like the wind, he place a hand on your back, rubbing soothing circles. You sobbed your heart out on Riddle's shoulder, surely turning it damp.

After a few minutes, you brought the heel of your palms up to your eye sockets, trying hard to plug up the still running tears.

Riddle brought his forefinger and thumb to your chin and lifted it so that he could get a good look of your wet face. "Why the tears? Were the results you got not the ones you expected?" he gently asked.

Of course he would be able to the head of the nail immediately.

You shakily nodded to the question. You thought that because that you did not reach your desired outcome, that you had wasted Riddle's time with tutoring you and that he was going to surely breakup with you because of this.

Riddle asked another question. "What did you get?"

Your voice was soft and wobbly, but you tried to answer as clearly as you could, "I-I got 89..."

Your boyfriend's face split into a wide and proud smile. He held your hands in his again and brought them up to his small chest.

"That is brilliant dear! You rose up a whole fifteen ranks!" he cheerfully exclaimed.

You were caught of guard with his enthusiasm. Why was he so excited for your horrible score? Yeah, you did improve, but not to your or his expectations, so what's the point of being happy?

"Dear, it is such a big improvement from last time, if we keep this up, you could get in the top 50's before the school year ends!" he encouragingly explains.

You didn't think of that... You were just so caught up in your disappointment that you did not notice how much improvement you made.

Riddle, still seeing how sad you were, said that he would organize with Trey so that he could spend more time studying with you so that you could reach your goal and not fail the year.

-------------------------------------------------------

#Riddle #Riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #fluff #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #Gn!reader #Riddle x gn!reader #Riddle rosehearts x gn!reader #comfort #TRY AGAIN #kokowrites #kokoscenarios #kokofluff #kokorequests

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