#thoughts are scattered but this is living rent free

[frubbotoxicyuri]

i know i’m a little late okay but after spreen being canonically dead and the way fit reacted to it i cannot be the only one who wants a fitpac au with pac as a detective/police officer and fit starring as the sexy widow who seems suspiciously happy about their husbands death/murder…

#fit opens the door wearing a red robe #he acts all mysterious and cryptic but then when pac meets ramon he sees his true colors #(a big ol’ softie) #not a reblog #qsmp #fitpac #thoughts are scattered but this is living rent free

[caterpillarinacave]

I love Charlotte and Henry and they're super underrated. And I would VERY MUCH like to hear the headcanons whirring about in your brain.

Oh well buckle up cause literally all I think about is head cannons. Like, you know how cells replace themselves every few years? Mine have replaced themselves with head cannons. *Sorry it took me a hot moment to answer this ask, I was busy howling into my pillow whenever I tried to articulate thoughts.*

First of all, they’re very cuddly. They basically sleep on top of each other (Charlotte hasn’t needed a pillow in decades). Henry cant sleep well without Charlotte in his arms and Charlotte can’t sleep well anywhere other than Henry’s arms so it works out. Plus, they both do that thing where they jerk awake like the world is ending and scare the shit out of each other, so sleeping in a hug that basically pins them both down saves some energy at 2am. Henry’s perpetually cold and sleeps under like, four blankets, so Charlotte just wears summer nightgowns all year and wraps herself around Henry like a koala.

Naturally there’s an angsty side to the incessant cuddling because that’s just the way I role.

Charlotte sleeps with her head on Henry’s chest so she can always feel him breathing because, by the angel, she remembers when he wasn’t. She sleeps with a hand on his pulse point because she wakes up in the middle of the night and she’s still half asleep they might as well be on the floor in that mountain and she might as well still be desperately swearing she didn’t imagine his heartbeat.

While on the topic of soul crushing feelings of guilt, y’all remember from Clockwork Angel that Henry was the one who told Mortmain what a Pyxis was? And he wanted Charlotte to tell the clave that and she wouldn’t because “they already treat him so badly”? Because I do. And so does Henry.

(I’ve got a whole WIP that I love very dearly about this head cannon and this chess game hehe) There’s one random old tutor who goes to the London institute once a month-ish, basically to hand out a few weeks of homework to any shadow hunters who don’t have their own tutors. Most shadow hunters who live in a more rural area show up a few times a year so the clave knows they’re alive and at least somewhat literate. Charlotte attends them every month since, you know, she lives there, but Henry lives somewhere around Yorkshire so he shows up every few months. The professor is kind of a dick ngl. He doesn’t help Charlotte with any school why would a woman need to be so well educated? “Go on find a husband and stop worrying you’re pretty little head” sort of shit. Henry drives him insane because he’s a) some random kid who’s smarter than him and b) didn’t use any of the professors materials to get that smart. Professor Douche is constantly trying to get him to be wrong about something, or at least flustered about something and he doesnt ever do either of those things, and even more aggravating he refuses to get upset. (He honestly just assumed the professor wasn’t that smart.)

Charlotte’s a really good student of course, but she’s having a shit time with some mathematics and the professor absolutely refuses to help her with it. Eventually she asks Henry if he wouldn’t mind helping her with it, which he’s happy to do (once he figures out that’s what shes actually asking lol.)

Charlotte is incredibly distracted the entire time by Henry’s freckles (and eyes. And hands. And the way his hair curls on the nape of his neck. And the spots of gold and green in his hazel eyes that flashed as bright as the sun when the light catches them. And-), but they get through it in an hour or two which leaves them alone in a deserted wing of the institute. They end up playing a game chess. Charlottes a decent player and thought since Henry had never showed any interest in chess it would be a probably be an evenly matched game. She didn’t know what hit her. He beat her in like, eight minutes, eighty percent of which were spent on the last two moves by Charlotte who, upon realizing she was fucked, spent five minutes staring at the board trying to figure out when he even started beating her. She was sitting there having a whole crisis, (she’d been distracted by a man who probably doesn’t like her, and certainly doesn’t think much of her now after a pathetic loss like that and now she’ll have to sit hear and wallow in failure-) just preparing for him to start that whole smug gloating thing men do when they win and Henry you know. Didn’t. He just put the pieces away and thanked her for the game, in that very genuine way, with the gloomy London evening light casting a depressing shadow across the room, a shadow that he stood out against all gentle, kind, bright and brimming with a sort of barely contained passion. If Charlotte had ever doubted that shadow hunters had come from straight angels then sitting there, looking at a boy stained in soot, who she loved more than anything else to walk the earth, she would never doubt it again.

(It wasn’t until after Henry won and noticed Charlotte hadn’t said anything in a while that he remember people don’t like losing. Honestly he was playing just to be around her and he would have thrown the game if he could conceptualize how to do that on the fly. They spent like five minutes in autistic silence waiting for the other to stand up and declare newfound hatred.)

In true British fashion the a modern tea bag would kill them both.

When they were both 13 or 14 Charlotte mentioned she was dreading winter because it’s so bleak and dark (and her mom had died a few winters before, though she didn’t drop that in casual conversation). Anyways, come winter Henry brought her a marigold preserved in something like resin. She kept it in her jewelry box for years and after they got married she found out he had literally dozens of them. Whenever he came across a particularly bright flower he preserved it and set it aside. He was never quite brave enough to give them to her pre-TID, but he now leaves them for her when she’s particularly sad or stressed. She keeps them all in a drawer- they fit together like little tiles, and still look as fresh as they would had they just been plucked from the ground.

Somewhat surprisingly Henry doesn’t really lose stuff, with the singular exception being his own medical equipment. He’s lost the leg braces he wears every single day of his life before. Charlotte’s not usually speechless but she wasn’t sure what to say to that one.

Henry gave Charlotte a watch with a hands and numbers that can glow the same way a modern day one would. It’s absolutely beautiful, durable and accurate, even if Henry set himself on fire at least four times making it. (They can say with confidence that that watch is fireproof)

—-

Honestly, I could go on and on, then on some more, but technically I’m supposed to be writing a paper on gut micro biomes that’s due tomorrow, so I figured I’d cut myself of. In conclusion, I love them dearly, they love each-other dearly, they deserve the world, all I can think about is them, and the world can pry them out of my cold dead hands.

#My rough drafts are a goldmine #I’ve got basically a full novel of Henry and Charlotte in the form of random chapters scattered around a google doc #The second to last one might have come about because Ive always had an affinity for losing medical equipment #Yes it’s normally attached to my body no I don’t know where it went #I love so much #the thoughts are suffocating #My brain replays “they believed right then that Shadowhunters came from angels” constantly #It’s one of the lines I made up and lives rent free in my head #I direct everyone to Qui Voltum Tolt Vultum Perdit on my AO3 which will eventually be full of henry and Charlotte #That fic is a very articulate example of some of my thoughts #The bit about the marigold I mentioned is just the surface btw it’s so much 💅deeper💅 #I didn’t even mention the snow scene on here (scene I made up. And only I know about) #Or the scars. Dhegvgfg the scar thing #One of my own WIPs that makes me cry because I need someone to love me that way #Also left out the pajama thing the baked good thing the boat thing the “teaching original London institute gang to swim” thing #The newspaper thing floor thing the triplets thing the Yorkshire thing the bathtub thing the tiny little children #The smell of air before a storm thing the lemon thing the piano thing the music thing ugh I could go on and on #Tid #thanks for the ask! #fairwell #…anyone got any good articles on the gut microbiome

[niightravcns]

Dorian Ashengrotto: Overblot AU Masterlist

General Musings / Vibes

Differences from Canon (Visual)

Overblot / Entity

Playlist

#💎 headcanons 💎 #💎 dorian ashengrotto 💎 #💎 overblot au 💎 #( i really need to write up a proper post for this au ) #( for now here's a short masterlist of my scattered thoughts ) #( this au lives rent free in my head 24/7 )

[fortune-maiden]

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Péi Míng & Shī Qīngxuán, Péi Míng/Shī Qīngxuán Characters: Shī Qīngxuán, Péi Míng (Tiān Guān Cì Fú), Líng Wén (Tiān Guān Cì Fú) Additional Tags: Awkward Situation, Humor, Time Travel, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fix-It of Sorts, SQX's Nat 1 Perception, TGCF Rarepair Week 2022, this is a bit of a proof of concept type of fic, i just really wanted to explore the idea, for some reason it also feels a bit like a shoujo plot setup Summary:

Shi Qingxuan was not having a good week.

First he learned his whole life had been a lie. Then his brother imprisoned him. Then he escaped from said brother, only to end up with a sword aimed at his neck by an overzealous martial god in the courtyard of his own home.

800 years in the past.

-

Fic for Day 3 of TGCF Rare Pair Week with the prompt: awkward situation :D

Peixuan in this dynamic is really fun to write haha

#Heaven Official's Blessing #tian guan ci fu #tgcf #pei ming #shi qingxuan #peixuan #fortune's fanfics #i made a random tgcf thought post once exploring this idea #and it was very fun to explore in a fic even if only for one little part of it #this au lives rent free in my head and i kinda want to do more with it someday #idk if i'd have the stamina for a full fic but maybe some scattered scenes ideas #like sqx interacting with swd when he doesn't know who sqx is #or sqx learning hx is ming yi #or just some general middle court shenanigans #and sqx learning to never doubt lw again #that sort of thing #tgcfrarepairweek2022 #idk if they have a tumblr but i don't have a twitter

[predestinatos]

too cold | MV1 ⋆꙳❅ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

pairing: max verstappen x female!reader

summary: stormy weather leads to stormy thoughts about a years long friendship.

tags: best friends to lovers, soo cheesy, fluff, giddy max, super whipped for reader!!, wearing his sweater, just so much softness!

author's note: i dreamt about max for some reason and he's been living in my head rent free so... i had to let this out!! hope you like it. it's a short cute thing so..!

word count: 3.5k

warnings: -

It was cold and stormy that day. You had expected it, the forecasts all telling you the same thing, your hair completely tangled in itself as soon as you stepped out of the house into the car.

You planned it all, including getting there earlier, so you could spend as much time with Max as possible – you never skipped the pleasant silence of his presence at least once a week. What you hadn’t planned was for you two to get carried away with taking buzzfeed quizzes and personality tests to the point where it was dark outside, the storm more aggressive, more threatening, and more dangerous.

“Shit,” you muttered when the wind outside made the windows tremble with extreme force, their sound almost like a warning voice in the night. “How am I going home like this?” you asked yourself out loud, desperate and scared, as Max completed yet another ‘What’s Your Mental Age Based on Your Choice of Cutlery’ quiz. He glanced outside nonchalantly, almost carelessly, as if the question was ridiculously easy to answer, close to ironic.

Before going back to the seriousness of the questions at hand, he shrugged, shoulders going up and down in explicit tranquility. “You can stay over” he stated, his finger hovering over a weirdly shaped spoon that said ‘shit stirrer’ on its surface. You let out a breath that indicated his joke was funny yet not useful in the slightest given your current dilemma, to which he looked at you and laughed back, assuming you were amused at the choice of teaspoon he had just made.  “Max, I’m serious” you voiced your urgency and fear with those words. “Me too” he continued, eyes glued on the screen, yet slightly confused at your own comment.

At your audible sigh and attempt to get up from his bed, where you comfortably laid scrolling through your phone for options, he turned around from his chair which was facing the screen. “You’re not leaving” he said, in a concerned tone of a friend who refused to let you be consumed by the rapidly increasing rain. “I don’t understand what the matter is” he continued as he saw you searching through his room for your things, messily scattered on the floor, reminiscent of childhood times spent together.

You merely looked at him in response, the answer obvious to you but seemingly not to him, only hitting him hard in the face as a joke he couldn’t help but laugh at seconds later. “You always slept here” he said, astonished at your reluctance and apparent timidness. “Yeah, Max. When we were 11” you protested, tucking some hair behind your ear as you looked for your charger. “Plus, I don’t have a pajama, or spare underwear” your arms now crossed across your chest, mimicking his own, a baffled smile on his lips.

“You can wear one of my sweaters. And like, my boxers, or something” this made your mouth drop in ridiculous surprise, a fear in your eyes which he didn’t understand. “I’m serious! It’s better than you going out with this storm!” his arm pointed towards the window, the view outside a paid actor because a lightning appeared violently before both of you. With a winning grin, he finished his argument with a “C’mon I’ll let you choose the outfit.”

Opening the drawers, you let yourself take a look at the collection of multicolored sweaters organized neatly. Your eyes landed on a grey one, which looked a bit worn out but comfortable at the same time, its marks of usage being a testament to its quality. You grabbed it and noticed that it smelled like Max, like the years of friendship you two shared. “The boxers are in the other drawer” Max interrupted your thoughts, yet his indifferent air made you less awkward about this situation, almost like it was normal that this was happening, like you were both 10 again, popcorn being prepared in the small kitchen next door.

You let yourself randomly choose some of his underwear, trying your best not to look too much at it, knowing little to nothing about how to even begin choosing such a thing for yourself. The strong wind whistled outside, and Max’s fingers hit the keyboard, creating a soothing lullaby.

“I’m- uh-… going then” you said, making your way towards the bathroom as he happily nodded, the familiarity of the house being a known fact for both of you.

The truth was, Max missed you. A lot. He missed hanging out with you all night, watching really bad films and playing silly videogames, drinking some beers and enjoying yourselves. Lately, he hadn’t had the time to do all these things, let alone doing them with you, and even though he did not plan this storm in the slightest, he was glad for it. The rain came as a reminder that you two had a year long friendship you could still enjoy, the sound blending with the one coming from the bathroom as you turned on the shower.

Sleeping over only got weird given the fact that Max was a boy and you were a girl, but it shouldn’t have been like that. In his mind, nothing changed, and nothing should have to change – he still wanted you as close as he did when you two watched scary video compilations on youtube and spent all night hiding under the covers and whispering in an attempt to not ‘awake the big monster’.

He still wanted to spend time with you when you were 16 and started talking about how cute his friends were, asking him if they were single or not as you put a lollipop in your mouth and painted your nails in colorful amusement.

He still wanted you to sleep over even when his girlfriends told him they didn’t quite like the fact that he was so close with you, that he seemed to want to be with you more than with them, that he dropped everything as soon as you texted him a slightly unusual text.

And it was normal, and alright, because you were best friends, because you knew each other better than your own selves, because you’d recognize his laugh in the middle of a crowd even with noise cancelling headphones, and he would recognize the smile you made when you were flustered even if he was blindfolded.

It was also normal for him to smile to himself and feel the happiest he has felt in a while, because he missed you, and you were staying over and nothing would have felt better than knowing he had a night full of your presence.

Meanwhile, you stood in his all-too familiar shower, accepting the fact that he had no conditioner, and a shampoo would have to do for the night. Simultaneously, this made you reflect on the clear fact that he had probably had no stable, consistent, female presence in his life in a while. As the liquid dropped in your hand and you brought your hands to your hair, thoughts about previous relationships of his flooded your mind.

They never ended well, and the guilt you felt because of it was ever present. Max was the best friend you could’ve asked for, because he always picked you, no matter what. In fact, he gave it no thought nor justification, not to you or his previous relationships. He accepted the fact that you were his priority as a given, something so natural as breathing, as blood pumping through his veins. You couldn’t deny you did the same. Previous partners of yours weren’t too fond of his constant need to assess and approve of them, of how he was your emergency contact whenever anything happened, how you made sure you spent time with him at least once a week.

Feeling the foam forming on your scalp, you remembered the times where you two bathed together, the innocence of gone times flying through your head with fondness. Of course, you two grew, and while you never broke the bond that formed between you, it was also harder to continue certain traditions you maintained.

Your teenage years were filled with angst and some bickering over how uncomfortable he made your dates, or how all he did was talk about girls when you two were together. You used each other as diaries and confidantes, keeping secrets in a closed vault made of memories. Nothing really had changed besides your ages, and none of you were dating, or at least it did not seem like it.

As you washed your body with lavender scented soap, you realized this is what you were missing – the comfortability of being the most like yourself you could possibly be, alongside him.

Max stared at the “You Are 14 Years Old!” result on his computer, reading the in depth description on how that one fork gave his age away, when he heard your shout for his name coming from the now foggy bathroom, the place now looking more like Silent Hill or a liminal space. Removing one side of his headphones off, his voice echoed throughout the apartment “Yes?”, filled with softness and worry, a completely unknown care for you which wasn’t displayed by anyone else but him. Smiling to yourself, you replied, “do you seriously only own one bath towel?”

Removing both of his headphones off now, with realization hitting him and he jumped from his seat, he ran towards the drawer that possessed all the other towels he stored in organized fashion. “Shit! No! Sorry! I’m on my way!” he said urgently, grabbing one as he ran towards the bathroom, opening its door and popping only one arm in, his eyes facing the wall but also closed with affirming need to reassure you that he wasn’t looking, refused to look, would never even consider to do such a thing.

You pulled the fabric off his hand as you thanked him with a soft giggle, his previous nonchalant attitude vanishing upon the thought of seeing you naked – which you weren’t, and he would’ve realized this had he considered the fact that the bathroom possessed ONE towel, currently wrapped around your now wet body. Shivering with cold, you got yourself dry as fast as you could, while Max sat back down in his chair, cursing to himself at his clumsiness and lack of thought.

Examining yourself in the mirror as dried your hair off (after several minutes of looking for the hairdryer, not wanting to put Max through the whole ordeal of performing the biggest demonstration of respect towards one’s privacy ever witnessed) you noticed something you hadn’t before. This simple, yet incriminating item put into question your previous thoughts about Max’s lack of companionship in his home, your eyebrows furrowed and your mouth turning downwards at the thought that he was hiding something from you.

On the tiny little cup sitting on the sink, there were two toothbrushes. They were carefully put together in a magical arrangement of colors that indicated that one had to be able to tell them apart, like each had its own owner. Suddenly, the whole idea of sleeping over – hell, of wearing Max’s clothes – seemed ridiculously selfish. You had done it before, but you were adults now, and with adulthood came a sense of responsibility and respect that hit you in the face like a slap, the simple idea of an innocent sleepover with your best friend sounding absolutely childish and ridiculous.

“Max?” you called out again, a deep breath escaping your lungs as you sat down on the toilet seat, hair still slightly damp, towel still wrapped around your body upon your refusal to put his clothes on. “Yes?” he replied once again, a feeling of déjà vu invading your thoughts, a repetition of mere seconds before yet with rose tinted glasses off.

 “I think it’s best if I just go home,” you muttered, even though you hadn’t moved. Realistically, the idea of going out there terrified you, but perhaps not as much as staying over, given the current situation. Putting your underwear back on after showering felt dirty, but perhaps wearing his clean one after noticing another one’s presence in his room, his life, his thoughts, made you feel even dirtier.

“Come on, I bet your outfit looks amazing” he said jokingly, assuming you were embarrassed about your current look, trying to lighten up the mood with teasing reassurance. Getting up once again, he stood near the bathroom door, head close to it as if trying to listen to the fabric against your skin, some hint of your own amused presence. All he heard was silence, one so unbelievably loud he felt something off, something wrong. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice now more careful, more tender, and more concerned.

You only murmured in allowance, and noticed the doorknob turn as he stepped inside. “What’s up?” he asked, his eyes revealing deep concern with slight embarrassment over the painting you two were probably creating. Him, pajama pants and hoodie on, glasses now slightly foggy; you, with droplets falling down your hair as you looked down, hugging the towel tightly against your body. “I don’t want to cause any trouble” you said as you unconsciously looked back at the toothbrushes which now seemed to stare at you both accusingly, judgingly.

“Why would you- Oh,” he interrupted himself, his gaze following yours towards the same spot, his look going from confused to serious to utterly humored. “This?” he asked again, grabbing the small toothbrush from the cup, its cable a pretty yellow shade. “What’s your favorite color again?” he continued, waving the object in front of your face as you stared at it in confusion.

Looking up, you replied simply “yellow- oh,” it was your turn to interrupt yourself, now realizing how you had almost forgotten your childhood promise, yet surprised as well at the fact that he had kept it after all these years, the innocence of the act causing your heart to hurt slightly.

“It’s always been here. I mean, not the same one, obviously, but… a spare toothbrush” he explained, even though he did not have to, his hand playfully messing your hair before he headed bac towards the door. “Get dressed, silly. We have films to watch” his warm voice instructed you with tenderness before he closed the door behind him.

Stepping out of the bathroom, finally dry and dressed, you forced Max to close his eyes before looking at you. “Don’t make fun of me or I’ll leave” you threatened jokingly, as his eyes remained tightly shut with his hands in front of them dramatically. “I won’t I promise!” he claimed, yet he was already laughing, the sound of it reminding you of the years of togetherness you both shared.

“Okay, you can look” you finally gave your permission, as he took his hands off his face and blinked fast, the lights suddenly blinding him. At first, he just stared at you, expression absolutely unreadable. Then, he burst into laughter, apologizing as his giggles filled the bedroom. “I look ridiculous” you complained, the long sleeves covering your hands and flopping lazily as you did so. “No you look adorable!” he tried to protest, laughter insistent on making its way through his lips, his eyes shining with happy tears. “Adorably ridiculous” you continued, rolling your eyes and throwing yourself on the bed defeatedly, your head buried in his pillow, filled with the scent of him.

Knowing your mood would change soon, Max merely smiled to himself as he started putting a film on, the choice being the Twilight saga – easy to watch, entertaining, fun, and he could tease you about it constantly, pretending he didn’t enjoy it himself. Bags of jellybeans hit your head as he threw them towards you, in an attempt to wake you from your moody attitude. “C’mon grumpy I have beer” he poked you as he sat on the bed as well, pressing play and opening a bag which he waved in front of your face as you got up lazily.

“’I know what you are’ ‘Say it. Out loud. Say it!’ ‘Vampire’” you said the lines along with the film, echoing each and every intonation and expression. Popping a bear shaped jellybean in his mouth as he took another sip of his beer, Max interrupted your acting session by saying “can you imagine how awkward it would be if it was something else entirely and he would just be like… ‘uh no’” and laughing to himself. Your arm flew to his as you punched it angrily, despite the fact that you were giggling to yourself.

Something about getting you slightly on your nerves while also making you smile made Max feel almost at home, in a safe space without comparison, only available to him when you were around. He felt himself in a constant state of meditation whenever he was around you, his breathing naturally adjusting itself to match yours.

Instinctively, and not out of the ordinary for any of you, he grabbed your hand and played with it softly, his fingers feeling the soft texture of your skin and pinching it with playful tenderness. You never questioned it, and neither did he, this need you two had to display affection more than most friends did, the need to always be in some sort of contact with each other, to feel each other’s warmth and presence closely. Without taking his eyes off of the film, seemingly very intensely focused on Edward’s skin of a killer, he spoke up. “You don’t look ridiculous,” he said, as you held your gaze on the film, yet laughing at his comment, expecting a joke to be made about how what’s on the screen is way more embarrassing than you in his underwear. Yet he said something completely different. “You always look pretty. Very pretty” his voice was soft as he now looked at you, and you felt his gaze on your skin, your cheeks, your eyelashes, yet refused to look at him and face whatever was happening in that night.

The windows rattled once again, breaking the momentary spell that hovered in the room, hypnotizing both of you with the haze of uncertain feelings. You heard his breathing as well, heavy and nervous now, his heart racing and yours matching his, maybe because you were so deeply connected or maybe because your feelings and his were now the same shade of complexity.

 You wondered if this is why you had stopped sleep overs together. Perhaps it was the fear of facing the fact that things were not as simple and easy to brush off when the clock hit 3am and his hand was on his and your head on his shoulder and you had no intention of moving. And he shared these same thoughts, realizing how that letting go of you right now would probably be the worst thing that could happen, the scariest thought that could possibly cross his mind.

All this happened in fractions of second, too short for any of you to truly acknowledge what was happening, his voice interrupting both of your thoughts as he spoke once again, “obviously not as pretty as Edward Cullen but-“ to which you rolled your eyes and laughed. “I bet he’d look better in your sweatshirt” you said, another sip of beer falling on your lips.

“Impossible” he replied, a smile on his lips, his eyes finally meeting yours and then taking your whole appearance in, your cheeks blushing shyly at how attentively he looked at you, at how his gaze seemed so tender and soft. A sudden urgency to feel his lips on yours filled your thoughts with sheer intensity that terrified you. You hadn’t seen Max that way, hadn’t considered it nor question it before, not even when your dates and boyfriends accused you of things, not when your friends commented on how you looked at him. Yet in that exact moment, something shifted completely, perhaps stirred by the storm outside, perhaps because it simply felt right in that moment to feel wrong.

“Can I kiss you?” he suddenly asked. The innocence of the question made you giggle, the contrast between his soft and careful voice and his adult look with a week old stubble making you giddy and timid as you nodded.

His lips touched yours with caution, yet with undeniable fondness that made you question why this hadn’t happened before. You felt his smile in between the kiss, the satisfaction of finally breaking this unknown wall that had existed between you for so long, and which you remained so unaware about.

Pulling away, Max’s eyes stared into yours before moving to the screen, a satisfied smile on his now slightly redder than usual lips, your own face mimicking his. “Edward Cullen could never kiss as well as you” he whispered, earning himself another soft punch, followed by 3 more films worth of kissing.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 fandom #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 #formula one #f1blr

[margowritesthings]

BITE ME

pairing: Vampire!Arthur Morgan x Human!f!reader word count: 4091 words warnings: 18+ minors DNI, explicit sexual content, explicit language, piv intercourse, fingering (r receiving), biting and blood play, vampire feeding authors note: happy halloween my loves! this is a day late, but time isn't real anyway so we can all just pretend it is yesterday... right?? anyway, this au is now living rent free in my mind. i'm obsessed.

taglist:@cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @counteveryfreckle @elifsukirdaghehe @reaveries@delilah-grimes@mrsarthurmorgan7 @twola@the-marsh-harrier @wildfloweroutlaw @photo1030 @luvliewriting@pine4pple-b0i @sickvictorianangel

beta read by @cowboydisaster, divider by @saradika

The wooden panels nailed to the broken windows of the manor allow for tiny slats of moonlight to invade onto your skin, bathing you in a white glow. Peering through the gaps, you can see the distant campfire those bastard Pinkertons set up down by the swamp, but you know they’re surrounding you, boxing you into Shady Belle like fish in a barrel. 

It’s been three days of a stalemate, the Pinkertons keeping their distance, brave enough to come with guns and firepower but just cowardly enough to not advance towards the monster they’ve heard only legend of, lest he rip their throats out and drain their life away. No, they’d rather wait around until they can drag his starved body out and be hailed heroes.

That “monster” sits mere feet away from you leaning against the wall, pale skin paler still, his chin tilted upwards as he fights the weight of his own skull. It’s killing you, watching your Arthur grow weaker by the hour. Three days of hiding out in Shady Belle, unable to leave for fear of being hunted for sport, but it’s been much longer since he last fed. They have you trapped, completely and truly. If Arthur held even half his usual strength, it would have been so easy to escape. He’d have overpowered them in seconds, no matter their numbers or firepower. But for that, he’d need to feed on the blood of another, which has made things much harder.

You try to relax your worried features when you see him start to wake, rubbing the crease out from between your eyebrows formed by the frown you hold whenever you watch him sleep, too scared to look away in case he stops stirring. 

“Arthur…” You whisper on an exhale, quickly moving to sit beside him on the little bed. As always, his skin feels like marble, cold enough to seep through his shirt and scatter goose pimples over your arms. You’re used to the cold, what you don’t like is the thin layer of sweat coating him. Vampires shouldn’t sweat, but they also shouldn’t go so long without feeding, and the thought of this being a symptom of time running out terrifies you more than any number of monsters out camping in those woods.

“Hey, sweetheart…” Arthur shuffles to make room for you, guiding you to rest your head on his hard chest. There’s normally more muscle here cushioning you from his ribcage, but with Arthur so sick you can feel every bone beneath you.

“You get any sleep?”

There’s always the option to lie so he worries less, but Arthur knows you too well for that, so only the truth will have to do.

You shake your head, “Was keeping watch. They haven’t moved, think they’re still shit-scared of you, actually.” 

Absent-mindedly, Arthur’s hand gravitates to the top of your head, stroking your hair in such a way that sends tingles down your spine. Even now, in the midst of perhaps the most danger you’ve ever been in together, his very touch has the power to calm you instantaneously. 

He huffs a laugh, though you notice the slight wheeze to his breath when he does and another pang of worry hits you, “Course they are. Call themselves goddamn hunters, couldn’t catch a cold in Colter…” A pause, where you fill the silence with that tiny little laugh you’ve barely been mustering lately, then, “You should get some sleep, darlin’.” 

“Not tired.” You protest, almost childishly, burying yourself further into Arthur’s chest. In truth, you’re exhausted, and even though he already knows it, you won’t admit it. You can’t tell him that you’re too scared to fall asleep in case you wake up alone, that there’s no point anyway because nightmares of him withering away to nothing here beside you will drag you back awake soon enough. 

You both know this can’t go on for much longer. Something has to be done, and you know you have to be the one to do it. It’s just the convincing… 

“C’mon, baby…” He starts, but you won’t hear it. You’re not going to sleep. You’re going to fix this.

“You have to feed on me.” You blurt out, glad to be nuzzled into your beloved’s shirt so you don’t have to see whatever expression your statement has pulled from him. 

It’s not spontaneous, no sudden solution that has sprung into your mind this very moment. You’ve suggested it before, albeit never so forcefully, Arthur brushing you off like the idea is unfathomable. Explaining that he would never feed from you, terrified he’d lose control and hurt you. He could never hurt you. If there are such things as absolutes, that is one of them, you know it.

“No.” He’s blunt, clearly hoping his tone had enough force to end it there. But you’re strong, your will to keep fighting for him an everlasting force enough to match his. 

“Arthur-” You unravel from him to sit up and meet his eye, yours pleading, his hardened. 

“Darlin’, I said no. I mean it. I promised you I would never hurt ya’, and shit have I broke a lot of promises in my life… but not that one. N-Never that one. No.” 

“You’re going to die, Arthur. If you don’t do this you’re going to die and you’re gonna leave me all on my own to face those bastards a-and,” Dammit, when did you start crying? “And I can’t do it without ya, Arthur you know I can’t-”

“Yes you can-”

“Well I don’t want to!”  You shout, bursting the bubble of quiet around the Manor, your echo riding the wave of birds flocking out of the trees. Sobs threaten to break your strength, but you have to say this. It’s the very last card you have to play. After a few moments, tension between you growing palpable enough to cut with a knife, Arthur closes his mouth, letting you continue. 

“Arthur, you’re all I have left… You think I’m a sharp enough shooter to get by them? Fine. But say I kill ‘em all, then what? Find somewhere to live and carry on? I ain’t… I can’t lose you, Arthur. But I can save you, if you let me. Please.” 

Time feels as though it stops entirely when you see Arthur actually considering your words. Tears streak your cheeks, but your boots could ignite right on your feet and you might not notice in this moment. He looks so tortured in thought, no doubt imagining the life you would lead if you left him behind. He’s sure you’re strong enough, he knows you can do anything, but his heart breaks thinking of you all alone. 

You reach for Arthur’s hands, feeling his cold skin tremble. 

“I… What if I lose control? What if I hurt you? Sweetheart, you know what I get like when I-”

“But you won’t. You know how much blood I can afford to give you, and I know you, Arthur. You’d never hurt me.” 

You elect not to tell him that any blood that runs through your body belongs to him already, your heart pumping it through your veins only for him. 

You don’t tell him you’d die for him, because you know he’d never let you. 

He’s silent, contemplating. 

Please.

Please.

“...You start feeling faint or anything, you fuckin’ tell me, alright?” His tone holds an attempt at sternness, but it bothers you none. You can hardly hear him for the rush of relief flowing over you. 

“I-I will. I promise.” And you mean it. The two of you are two entwined souls, neither trusting the other to have enough will to keep fighting if anything happened to them. 

Arthur takes a deep breath in, almost like he’s giving himself an extra few seconds to back out of this, before sighing it out. 

“Alright.”

The breath that hitched in your throat an age ago releases and you wipe your tears away hurriedly with the back of your hand. 

“Oh, thank you, Arthur…” You’re so ecstatic, so grateful that he’s letting you save him that all you can do is launch yourself over to him, kissing him with all the passion the universe has offered you to gift him. Your hands fall to either side of his face, caressing his marble skin in a way that emits a tiny groan from him. Over the last few days, you’ve cuddled up to him a lot, but there hasn’t been much contact like this. Needy and wanting, loving and layered with everything from I Love You to Let Me Save You. Arthur is a starved man, but not just for blood. For you, body, blood and soul. 

Arthur snakes one arm around your waist, even with his reduced strength still able to pull you over to straddle his lap. You’d have protested, citing that he’s too sick to be holding your weight like this, but now that this is really happening you’re getting kind of nervous, and the thought of being so close to him, arms wrapped around your frame while he feeds on your blood, comforts you hugely. And there’s no backing out, not from this, so straddle him you will. 

Despite everything, Arthur’s cool touch sets you aflame. He trails his fingertips up and down your spine, his other hand firmly gripping your ass. His tongue teases your bottom lip until you open up to him, tasting him as he does you. He tastes…like Arthur. He might argue that he’s some monster, committing evil acts in the name of survival, but you know better. He’s your Arthur, he always has been. 

The world melts around you, leaving just you and Arthur, loving each other, saving each other. That one long kiss breaks into smaller ones, until Arthur is peppering your lips, cheeks and nose with tiny kisses, glistening red eyes welling with emotion.

“It was always gonna be you, wasn’t it? You were always gonna save me…” He whispers, almost like he doesn’t quite believe it’s real.

“Always. And you’re gonna save me right back, cowboy. But first…” You look down between your two bodies, to the arm you’re holding out to Arthur. 

“Are you ready?” 

“Does it hurt?” You surprise yourself with your answer to his question, though you stand by it. You’re not scared, you could never be scared with Arthur. But nervous?

“A little. But I’m right here with you. And if you need to stop or take a break or you start feeling off, tell me or tap my arm.” You nod slowly, placing your hand into Arthur’s, “I need a yes, sweetheart… I can’t do this to you unless you’re sure.”

“Yes, Arthur. I’m sure. Please.”

There is one final, apprehensive glance in your direction, which you reply to with another tiny nod. He raises your flesh to his mouth, flashes of his white fangs visible now in the moonlight as he parts his lips. 

It’s… strange. A small scratching feeling when his teeth puncture the skin of your wrist that pinches your brows together. There’s a second of nothing, before Arthur starts to feed and steals the breath right out of your lungs. 

It’s like you can feel every vein in your body, all connecting and tugging your lifeforce through to your wrist for Arthur to feast on. You can tell the second the first drop hits his tongue, the shudder that wracks through his shoulders and down his spine. His eyes roll back in… pleasure? You’ve seen him feed before, usually such a violent affair, but this is different. You feel vulnerable to him, and as though you hold every ounce of control all at once. 

When he groans, deep carmine eyes locking onto yours, you feel it all over, your thighs clenching around your suddenly wanting pussy. 

… An unexpected side effect. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the blood rushing around your body, or even the downright ravenous way Arthur is looking at you while he feeds on your blood, but you seem to be physically squirming on the bed, desperate for any kind of friction you can get. Fuck, you’ve never seen anybody react to being fed on like this… Then again, you’ve never seen feeding look or feel like this.

From even the smallest drop of you, what little colour that remains after his change has returned to Arthur’s skin and he looks much closer to alive than just minutes before. He looks himself again, right down to the cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. It does maddening things to you, not at all helping your growing state of arousal. 

When his teeth sink out of your wrist, you watch crimson beads pool at two tiny punctures. Without breaking eye contact with you, Arthur lifts your hand back up to him, running the very tip of his tongue agonisingly slowly over the skin, pulling an honest to god whimper from your parted lips.

“You did so good, my good girl…” Arthur coos, an undeniably pleased look upon his face. He’s told you before, that with his heightened senses, Arthur knows when you want him. You also know how energised he gets after feeding, and how all of these factors are leading to a tension so intense between you you’re almost scared of the outcome.

There’s a smudge of blood on Arthur’s lip, one that you reach out to rub away with your thumb. Quick as the predator he is, he grabs your wrist before you can pull away, slipping your thumb into his mouth and sucking the blood gently off. Upon release, he drags one sharpened fang across the pad of your thumb and you shudder, craving that feeling of the bite more than you truly understand.

“A-Arthur…” You whimper, shuddering in pure anticipation and need. 

“I know, sweetheart… Christ, I knew you’d taste good, but this? Fuck, you’ve ruined me, baby…”

You can’t wait a second longer, certain you’ll perish unless he is kissing you in the next moment. Entangling your grip into his collar, you find Arthur only too malleable to your touch, all but pouncing on you, locking your lips together. His tongue demands entrance as he easily positions you to be laying under him, Arthur covering the entire length of you and thensome. 

“How do you feel, angel?” He asks between kisses, large hands roaming your body, tugging your clothes out of being tucked into each other to make it easier to take them off, “Y’alright? Don’t feel faint?”

“I’m okay. I just- I-I need you, please.” You’re pleading again, this time for very different reasons, “Did you get enough?” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you, sweetheart…” He growls, pulling the buttons of your shirt open feverishly. And then his lips are back on your skin, kissing your neck, licking at the skin whilst his hands work your zipper. You moan again, some wanton part of you wishing he would bite down again, marking you all over. 

Arthur is losing control in the best way, growling and grinding his erection against your leg as he tries to pull your jeans down. With a little help, he manages, tugging your undergarments with them so you’re completely bare for him. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful… my perfect little feast. Fuck, I’m tortured by every second I’m not buried deep inside that weeping cunt of yours,” At that, he runs a finger over your slit, drenching the tip of his finger in your slick, “but I think you deserve a treat for being such a good girl for me…” 

There’s no time to consider his offer as he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them, curling them to hit that sweet spot he knows so well. You scream, absolutely loud enough for any Pinkerton vampire hunters to hear.

“That’s it, huh? That what you needed? That pretty little cunt filling?” He taunts, thumb swirling over your already soaking clit. You can’t speak for crying out, but you manage a nod, feeling yourself stretch around a third finger in a way that has your heart racing even faster.

With your pulse pounding, you can really feel the wounds on your wrist starting to ache and burn. It's a strange sensation, but one that seems to blend into everything else in some twisted bout of pleasure.

Arthur must notice your eyes flickering to it, as he guides your hand back up to his lips with the hand not inside you, pressing the softest kisses over the holes in your skin. 

“Look what you did for me… My saviour, my perfect girl…”

“I’d die for you, Arthur.” you confess, the sweetness of his kisses and the languid circles of his fingers pulling you so close to the edge you can feel tears forming behind your eyes.

“It’d never come to that, beautiful. I’d burn the world down before I let your life ever hang in the balance.”

You believe him, too, and the emotion is suddenly too much. You’re hurtling towards an orgasm and you need him closer and all you can seem to think to do is untangle your wrist from his grasp and slip your thumb into his mouth.

He knows what you’re asking for instantly, and you swear you see his inky pupils blow until his eyes are nothing but a reddened void. 

“Oh, my pretty little feast…” He groans, pricking your thumb with a fang and sucking gently at the blood. It isn’t nearly as intense as your wrist, but you still feel that tugging everywhere and you can’t stop the lewd moans that fall from your lips as you come undone. 

Writing, screaming his name, you feel Arthur suck harder on your thumb, moaning himself at the taste of you. It’s not nearly as much as he was taking before, but enough that your blood blooms over his tongue and fills every one of his senses. He is a man obsessed, and it’s the most beautiful sight as you cum for him. 

The waves of euphoria crash over you, each more intense and wonderful than the last. Arthur orchestrates your orgasm through his own pleasure, drawing perfect patterns on your clit in time to his thrusts. 

When you come down, he’s there, releasing you from his fangs again to free his lips for yours. Your lips lock together, his body crushing yours into the mattress. You love the feel of all his weight on you, especially when you can feel every pulse of his throbbing cock through the denim of his jeans. Jeans that must go, so you snake a hand into what little space you can between your bodies to reach for his buttons. Arthur helps you, and he’s soon naked on top of you. Wrapping nimble fingers around his shaft, you run your thumb over the rosy head of his cock, swiping at the bead of precum already leaking. He’s desperate for you, and it drives you wild. 

You’re already guiding him to your soaked entrance, grinding your hips pathetically, needily. Arthur chuckles softly, taunting you with the smallest of hip movements to slide his tip into you, but stopping there. 

“Arthur.” You whine, eyes pleading, cunt dripping for him. Your hands roam the expanse of his back, feeling each muscle twitch under your touch, scratching at the cool skin like a cat in heat. 

“I know, baby, I know… I’ll make it better.” He purrs, finally sliding the entire length of his cock into your heat. It stretches you in that beautiful way only he can and you moan, deep and visceral. Your nails leave white scratches across Arthur’s back as your hands float up to cup his cheeks, pulling him into a deep kiss as his groin presses hard into yours.

“Oh, my beautiful girl… I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’re gonna hear you up in Saint Denis… them Pinkertons out there are gonna think I’m draining every last drop of that sweet blood out of your precious little body.”

Such a violent image, but somehow… you enjoy the thought. You’d bleed for him till the end of time, gladly… you’d lay down your life on a slab and be Arthur’s for the taking. 

You can’t think of the words to tell him how much you want what he’s telling you, letting the passion guide you to bite down on Arthur’s lower lip. A taste of his own medicine. He has no blood of his own to give, but you’re biting down hard enough to have drawn some if he did, dragging another feral grown from the depths of his throat. 

True to his word, with just a few perfectly timed thrusts, you’re screaming his name, cunt fluttering around his thick cock and squeezing every inch of it. That full feeling is so wonderful, so bone-deep and euphoric you’re on the precipice of another orgasm in seconds. He can tell, slowing down and hanging you right over the edge with a wicked grin on his face. You whine and whimper, clawing at the back of his neck to pull him even closer.

“What do you want, little feast? Use your words.” He pushes, still dragging his cock up against your walls in the most torturous of ways. 

“I want… I-I need… I-I… urgh!” You cry out in frustration, each syllable leaving your lips earning another thrust that dizzies you to the point of cock-drunk stuttering. Fuck words. You’ll show him. 

With a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, you pull Arthur closer, guiding him to the crook of your neck. 

“Angel, I don’t know if I can control myself if I taste you agai-”

“Please…” you whimper, rocking your hips up to meet Arthur’s movements, clit grinding deliciously against his pubic bone. 

Arthur’s eyes meet yours and you’re lost in them, convinced you’ve never been held so close to climax for so long before, but your body knows what it wants, what it needs to get there with Arthur. 

“Fuck, if I could die, you’d be the death of me…” Are the last words he speaks before sinking his teeth into your neck, in perfect time with a deep thrust of his cock. You scream, in pain, in pleasure, all of it, finally falling over that cliff and crashing into the waves below. You drown in your orgasm, dragging Arthur down with you as he sucks the sweet ichor out of your veins. With your blood on his tongue and his name on your lips, you cum together. The vibrations of his carnal moans tickle your neck, layering yet another juxtaposing sensation onto you. 

He releases, only to whisper sweet words of praise into your bleeding skin, “Look at you, giving me this… you’re doing so good for me, ain’t ya? My little angel, my good girl…”

And he’s biting down again, and you’re chanting his name, legs wrapped tight around his hips, tears you don’t remember shedding streaking down your cheeks. It feels like you stay there for an eternity, connected mind, body and soul. You would stay there for an eternity with him, if he’d only let you. But that’s another story…

It stings a little when Arthur unleashes his teeth from you, and you wince. His hand is there instantly, caressing the surely reddened skin as his brows pull together, “You okay? I didn’t go too far, did I? Y’feelin’ alright?” 

You shake your head softly, a blissful smile gracing your lips, “I’m perfect.” 

“Damn straight you are.” He remarks, slowly sliding out of you and lowering his weight onto the bed beside you. 

“What about you? How are you feeling?” You ask, entwining your fingers together and holding them up into the moonlight. There's a streak of your blood crossing over a few of Arthur’s knuckles. It suits him. 

“Never better.” He says honestly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Thank you, darlin’. I’ll never be able to thank ya’ enough for what you did, but I promise you I’ll get us out of here alive. Well… y’know what I mean.” 

You giggle, sure you may never get used to the fact that the love of your life is dead. 

“You don’t need to thank me, Arthur. You’ve given me your life a million times, it’s only fair I get to do the same.”

And you mean it. You would do it a thousand times over, giving your life to Arthur while he gives his afterlife to you, saving each other until the end of time. 

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur morgan imagine #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x y/n #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption 2

[cmoundiamante]

DO U STILL WANT TO? ✦ L.HS

pairing gamer!hee x afab!reader

summary Begging for your boyfriend's attention was definitely not an option for you, but you managed to adapt him to your needs instantly.

genre smut. established relationship. drabble.

warnings reader has her nails done 💅🏻, dubcon, dom!reader (kinda), pet names (love n whore), oral (f & m receiving), 69, cum eating.

a/n ik the pics does not relate to the pairing of this drabble BUT MY THOUGHTS ABT THSI HEE ARENT HEALTHY AT ALL. ok now think about this, this video is living in my head rent free so i wanted to recreate it with the platinum hee. ALSO TYSM FOR THE 300+ FOLLOWERS IT MEANS A LOT TO ME 😭🩶 english is not my first language so pls be kind (: any correction will be considered, not only to improve reading but also for my learning ^^ enjoy this

wc +1,3k

His League of Legends game was, of course, way more important than you were at the moment.

His room was dimly lit by the LED lights that were stuck to the wall, but the light that illuminated his face was that of the television, which he couldn't take his eyes off for fear of losing the game. He was holding his joystick moving his fingers over it nimbly, and as much as you wanted his fingers to be making that same movement on your clit, you couldn't because your pride forced you to be angry.

Your boyfriend had invited you to his house, at that moment you had the idea that you were going to have quality time. To your bad luck, it wasn't like that, you just kept him company lying on his bed watching his fucking back.

And as much as your blood boiled when you saw him not pay attention to you, it made you kind of horny to see him so focused on his game. Actually, you always did. Heeseung had a severe addiction to video games, so you were used to the fact that whenever you went to his house he would sit there feeding his vice, but he had promised to see a movie, and if possible a night of passion... Three hours had passed since you arrived at his house, and nothing he promised had happened.

But anger and lust were a dangerous combination for you.

Your moves? He felt them, but he didn't pay attention to them. Your noises? He wasn't listening to them, he was wearing his headphones. Your touch? He ignored it too, only laughing as his eyes were still fixed on the TV. You had been touching yourself for 20 minutes in his back, but at some point he turned to look at you? Obviously not.

Your clothes were scattered all over the bed, you were in the middle of the mattress with your legs open trying to give yourself some pleasure by imagining that it is your boyfriend who offered it to you. Seeing him made you feel like that; his freshly dyed platinum hair, his sturdy nose, how his gaze was fixed on the TV in such a sensual way, as the hickeys you had given him last week were still noticeable on his skin. No matter how wet you were appreciating him, it wasn't possible to concentrate, so it was difficult for you to reach orgasm at once.

When you opened your eyes to see your boyfriend, he was finishing his game. Was that enough to get his attention? Nah, he grabbed his phone and with his headphones on, he started watching new versions of his favorite games on Instagram.

You got behind him and gently pulled out his headphones, putting them on the bed, and then hugged him from behind, wanting to feel his body. "What’s up, love?" Your patience was running out and Heeseung didn't notice, or at least because he still didn't look you in the eye.

If he wasn't going to do it on his own, you'd have to force him.

With the worst face you could have at the time, you grabbed his shoulders and pulled him back, throwing him on the bed, without warning your legs caught his face, having no chance of escaping. Heeseung was dumbfounded for a few seconds, but it didn't take your words for his tongue to start working on your wet pussy.

He threw his cell phone on the bed and squeezed the flesh of your thighs with his hands, even though he was still amazed at what you had done. If he had known you were like this, he would have left his game in progress in order to fuck you raw until he made you see the stars. His tongue was wetting your entrance even more, mixing his saliva with the juices you created, however you had to pay attention to your clitoris, as his nose wasn't there to make you feel better.

You started whining underneath him, unconsciously jumping on his tongue, almost letting your ass completely suffocate him. Heeseung always told you that if he ever died, he wanted it to be this way.

You opened your eyes, and as soon as you fixed your gaze straight ahead you could see your boyfriend's erection forming under his gray joggers. As much as the fabric bothered you, you massaged it from the top, feeling how it was getting harder and harder. Hee's tongue surprisingly entered you, causing a high-pitched moan to be created by your throat.

You felt good, you felt too good over him , but even better you'd feel choking on your man's huge dick while being eaten by him. So, you put down his joggers and boxers to free his little friend, desperate to be well taken care of by your tongue. You heard a growl coming from Heeseung, which caused your folds to vibrate.

You lowered your torso and your tongue slammed into his dickhead, but Heeseung stopped pleasing you by feeling you, exposing your pussy and giving you a hard spanking, which echoed throughout the room. "Was this what you wanted? You could have told me instead of lying down being naked and quiet behind my back like a whore." Hearing him speak, you didn't hesitate to put his entire length inside your tight mouth just to tease him, seeing how as he spoke his voice was breaking. "Just like that, don't you dare stop, c'mon." Another spanking echoed through the room, you could swear his hand had left a mark.

Heeseung continued with his work on your pussy, which by the sensation of his tongue and how your clitoris hardened before his movements, you already perceived that you were close, however you would hold on, you wanted to come at the same time as your boyfriend.

The precum Heeseung shot was absorbed by you and mixed with your saliva, which helped to suck his hard dick more thoroughly. You felt how a hand gently massaged your head, little by little that hand turned into a fist that held your hair very tightly, pressing down forcing the thrusts and starting a burning in your scalp.

The ease with which his member slipped and the resistance you had to contain it inside your mouth was one of the main reasons why Heeseung didn't last more than five minutes. No sooner said than done, this was the case.

Since you didn't know where to put them, your hands rested on Heeseung's bare hips, burying your long, sharp nails on his soft skin. You knew he had quite sensitive skin, always having the opportunity to mark him as your own, making little effort and having effective results.

You exploded, finally letting all your juices unexpectedly crash into Heeseung's face, while the sounds you made were held back by having your mouth very busy. When you reach your orgasm your mouth tightens as you can't moan properly, causing your boyfriend to also cum without warning inside your mouth.

You unconsciously opened your mouth a little, letting a little of his cum fall off, falling on his hairless pelvis, what was left remained in your mouth, to then be transferred to your throat. "Do you still want to keep playing your stupid ass games?"

Heeseung, on the other hand, was still with his eyes closed, not only because of his recent orgasm, but also because some jets of your squirt had fallen on his eyes. He rubbed them a little and cleared his vision to meet your entrance again, now a little farther away. He could see how the LED lights reflected through the moisture between your legs.

"Of course not, You’re not done with me yet." The hand that was on your ass the whole time, continued to knead your flesh as if it were dough.

“Would you like to ride me? I’ve been such a bad boy, don’t I?”

#enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #kpop #enhypen recs #enhypen heeseung #heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #lee heesung smut #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung enhypen #enhypen lee heeseung

[merakiui]

I can't get Alien Jamil out of my head. He lives rent free now 😭

Alien Jamil who uses his ability to hypontise darling to spread their legs for them, maintaining eye contact to keep the spell. Darling being under his control as he filled darling up with eggs. Only looking away once he was done and Darling's stuffed to the brim <3

Then let's say Darling's a researcher for his species and is now being made to carry it for research purposes

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, breeding, oviposition, hypnosis, ntr/cucking)

:O !!!!!! Imagine being a researcher alongside Kalim... omg and Jamil watches day in and day out from his enclosure as Kalim attempts to get closer to you. Despite his outgoing and friendly personality, he's a little awkward with some of his flirting methods and so Jamil is able to pick up on Kalim's romantic interest in you fairly quickly. At first Jamil thought nothing would come of this, as you always seemed so absorbed in your research and you were always paying so much attention to him. Jamil is nice enough to act obedient and polite when you step into his enclosure to study him up close, feigning a harmless outward appearance. You're the only one who is allowed to do this; everyone else is frightened away or threatened with low hisses and sharp, piercing glares. Jamil has a soft spot for you, but he hides it with stoic indifference, choosing to look unbothered while you lean in close to admire his scales or the many snakes that make up his hair. You're so lucky he has an admirable amount of restraint, otherwise he would have plastered you to the ground and fucked you full of eggs months ago.

But it's when you actually start to entertain Kalim's interest that Jamil begins to worry. First the two of you would have dinner together (in front of Jamil, much to his annoyance) when you had to work late in the lab, and Kalim was just so irritatingly sweet to you. So genuinely himself. And you kept smiling and your body temperature was rising because you were flattered and happy and appreciative... Jamil refuses to lose you to that airheaded researcher. And then you'd work so closely together, side by side, shoulders nearly touching. Jamil is much too observant for his own good, which is both a blessing and a curse, because it only proves that you've warmed up to your fellow researcher.

It starts small. You can't understand Jamil unless he's hypnotized you, and then those fearsome hisses sound like the sweetest song, lulling you into a daze. For a while you seem more scattered than usual. There are gaps in your memory, and you're not sure why you always seem to come to in the lab. You could have sworn you were in your bed, sleeping so soundly until the whispers of something snake-like invaded your dreams... You're always led to Jamil. Maybe you really are so dedicated to your work that you're unconsciously drawn to it even when you're asleep. Kalim worries, insists you should rest more and that he can handle everything at the lab, but you don't want to push more work onto his plate. This is a team effort, after all.

It's like push and pull. Jamil holds you under for longer, slowly but surely snuffing your interest in Kalim, and releasing you from the spell of hypnosis before anyone can question it or grow suspicious. You're not going to love Kalim. You're going to love the specimen you look after. You're going to love Jamil. This is how it should have been, and this is how it will be.

Ultimately, it culminates in claiming. Jamil must stake it, must mold you to his form so that you'll only ever know him and no one else. The look in your eyes is empty and dazed, but you're smiling at him, entrapped in the coils of his tail, and it's a happy, drunken sort of smile. You're such a pretty human, so sweet for him when you open yourself without complaint or struggle, shedding that pesky clothing to reveal all of the curious parts to your anatomy he finds absolutely riveting. He fucks into your tight, slick warmth for hours, bodies pressed flush and never separating. Your moans fill the enclosure, adding to the sinful sounds of sex, and he falls for you all over again. You're truly so precious, so blissfully dumb and obedient when you're taking his cocks like the good researcher you are. Jamil can't resist; he has to fill you up, make this claim one you'll remember. And you can't object. You're not allowed to, not when he controls your every reaction. If he tells you to cum, you will. If he tells you to take just a few more eggs, you will.

And you'll like it because that's what you're told.

Only once you're filled to bursting, tummy packed full of his clutch, does Jamil gaze sidelong at Kalim, who looks on with concerned horror. Jamil tilts his head, acting as if he doesn't understand the smallest of human cues. He does, but Kalim doesn't need to know.

He smiles, his hold on you tightening ever so slightly. You're Jamil's now. Forever and always. As you were meant to be. And no one shall come between you.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #n/sfw #tw: breeding #tw: cucking #tw: hypnosis #tw: oviposition #*rings the bell* IT IS JAMIL HOURS >w< #I LOVE HIM AND THUS I DEDICATE EVERY HOUR TO JAMIL #(i say this but discord mod zuzu fic will be posted soon so...) #(jamil hours continue after discord mod zuzu interruption ;;)

[notintattooine]

sleepovers | anakin skywalker

warnings: 18+ established relationship, nipple play, oral (f receiving). not proofread.

a/n: i love dilf! anakin, he lives in my head rent free <3 also if you’re a minor, go read something else! also first post!!! hi!!!

the twins’ toys were scattered across the living room floor, crayons and coloring pages sprawled out along the kitchen table. remnants of children you had just dropped off for a sleepover at the kenobi’s. the sound of anakin’s car roared into the garage, followed by his jogging up the steps.

“ah hi gorgeous.” he smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“hi ani, how was work?” you ask, inhaling the scent of oil mixed with his cologne.

“alright, missed you.” he mumbled, pressing open mouthed kisses to your throat.

anakin flooded your senses, everything was just so perfect and him. pawing at him you pushed him away. “I thought we were going to have a date night.”

“actually, i bought us something.” anakin said, rummaging through the fridge. “ah ha!”

pulling out a bottle of wine, he held it up triumphantly before grabbing two glasses out of the cupboard. he fished around in the drawers for a corkscrew before finding one, opening the bottle and pouring some in each glass.

“i was thinking we could spend the night in?” anakin smiled, raising his eyebrows. “drink some wine, watch a movie.”

“oh cause we always get so far into the movie.” you chuckled, taking the glass he offered you. “fine. i'm picking though.”

“yes ma’am.” raising his hand in defense, he smiled.

you flipped through netflix before deciding on a horror film. laying against anakin, you occasionally took a sip of wine or pressed a kiss to his cheek.

-

you made it around fifteen minutes in before anakin placed his hand on your thigh. definitely a new record, you thought to yourself before turning to him.

“watch the movie.” he scolded. he was focused on the screen, but his hand said otherwise.

if he wanted to play that game you could too, pressing your lips to his most sensitive spot behind his ear, you lightly nibbled. his body immediately tensed and you could feel him resisting the urge to moan.

before you could register, he had you pinned to the couch. hovering above you, he ran his gaze along your body like an animal. smiling he leant down, capturing your lips in his. he kissed you hard and fast, tongue slipping in and out of your mouth. his hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head.

“ah there’s my girls.” he chuckled as your bare breasts were exposed.

kissing from your lips down your chin he smiled against your skin. finally he reached your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth he lightly bit it, causing a jolt to shoot through your core.

“oh fuck.” you whimpered, clutching at his shoulders.

“aw is my baby sensitive?” he mocked, biting harder, earning a yelp.

he continued his assault on your breasts till your eyes were brimming with tears and the flesh was purple.

“take these off.” he said, motioning to your jeans. “now.”

nodding furiously, you fumbled with the buttons before pulling them down. kicking them off in any direction you gazed up at him.

“those too.” he said, nodding toward your underwear.

making quick work of them, you were completely bare in front of him. the blue is his eyes was blown into lust, but there was an underlying softness as he gazed at you.

beginning at your nose, he pressed kisses all the way down to your tummy before smiling up at you.

“god been thinking about this pussy all day.” spreading your thighs, as he smiled up at you.

like a man starved he dove in, latching his lips to your clit. startled moans leaving your lips as he lapped at your core. every flick of his tongue was more and more intense, your wetness coating his face and chin.

“ani, want you-“ you whined, but if he heard you he ignored it.

making out with your core, he was rock hard occasionally rutting into the mattress for relief. his moans vibrated up and you swore you could feel them in your chest.

“ani- fuck. so close.” you warned, trying to pull him back but it only seemed to encourage him.

then it hit you, pure white bliss while you involuntarily squeezed his face with your thighs. closing your eyes, you fell against the pillows, chest heaving.

“oh sweet girl, i’m just getting started.” anakin smiled, leaning down to press his lips to yours, tasting yourself on his lips.

the kids should go to more sleepovers.

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker smut

[griffinclaw7]

So one thing that’s been living rent-free in my head since I watched the episode „The ancient art of ninja hide and seek“ is this weird hotel room where the brothers have their final showdown of the episode, you know just showing off their newly acquired skills

You know this one.

And it just could have been that the creators thought „hey, let’s just use a random hotel room for this scene“ but the thing that’s been bugging me is that this doesn’t look like a randomly chosen room at all

It doesn’t even look like a regular hotel room

It is hidden behind a secret door and the turtles only get there by pure accident and as we can see in the background that other rooms have regular doors. Heck, this room is so well hidden that even Splinter can’t find the entrance even though he was standing right in front of it.

Another thing is how the room is furnished. It is very blatant that this room isn’t meant for guests to stay in. The entire room has been personalized, there are posters on the wall, we have a car bed and a surfboard, there are vinyl records scattered across the floor and the bed isn’t made. Overall it looks very much lived in.

What I noticed, that was also kind of weird is how accessible the rest of the hotel seems to be from this room as seen with how out of every corner Big Mama‘s goons pop out of more hidden doorways.

The only use I could see in this room is if it was the room of one of the employees because that seems like the only logical answer for this kind of room since who else would need this level of accessibility.

But there is still one more thing. In this episode all of the employees we see on screen are adults and I don’t think it’s the room of any of the goons we see in this episode. Why? Well because this room looks like it belongs to a teenager. The posters, the general messiness and choice in furnishings all don’t give off the vibe of the inhabitant being an adult and look more like how a teenager would decorate and upkeep their room.

My personal headcannon (and explanation) for this room is that this is the room of Big Mama‘s Assistant, you know the person who’s been confirmed to be the turtles missing sister. It would make sense for this to be her room since she’s the only character I can think of that would fit all of the criterias for this room, since A she is employed by Big Mama and it would make sense to keep her room as such separated from the guests rooms but still central to get around the hotel quickly. And B she would be the turtles age, between early and mid- teens, at this point in the story. If this is the case and the room is in fact belonging to the sister (Frida) it would also serve as a nice foreshadowing if the turtles kind of indirectly interacted with their sister before actually meeting her

#save rottmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt frida #rottmnt big mamas assistant #rottmnt theory #rottmnt leo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt splinter #rottmnt big mama

[dumplingsfordays]

patching you up

blade x injured!gn!reader

genre - fluff

summary - blade patches you up after you got injured while fighting mara.

cw!: mentions of blood + injury, soft-ish!blade, ooc blade?, mention of blade's past life which idfk how it works lmao I should be paying attention to the storyline asjdnb, swearing, mutual pining

note - god damn. soft!blade is living in my head rent-free fr, can't get enough of him <33 I'm not usually an edgy-emo-boy fan but ig blade's just built different 💪💪

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

With each painful cough, more and more thin splatters of blood painted your mouth crimson.

It hurt. A lot. You didn't expect it to hurt nearly as bad as it did when you charged in to fight the Mara that was attacking some people that were making their way through Cloudford, but the spear that their captain had used to stab through your side was probably coated in some sort of poison, because with every sluggish step you took, you felt your body break little by little. Eventually, you collapsed onto the cold ground - your torso was numb and soon your arms and legs would be as well.

Well, at least you were going to die somewhere pretty. The sunset glimmered through the leaves of thin trees growing from large pots, which were scattered across the various bridges of the district. Starskiffs drifted lazily across the sky like regal ships on the high seas and the last thing you heard before you closed your eyes for a while was the sound of crickets and footsteps fading in.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Finally fucking awake."

A harsh voice came from your side as you opened your extremely tired eyes, which were met with dim but warm lighting and a dark wooden ceiling.

"Can't believe you got into this mess," the voice continued as you felt something tightening around your waist. "Didn't think that you'd be so stupid."

His face flashed in your hazy mind and you tried to sit up. "...Blade, I-"

"Don't move. You'll make it worse."

Hands. Ice-cold, gruff, but gentle hands pushed you back into your previous position by your shoulders, and you felt the tightening feeling again shortly after.

"What are you doing?" you whispered, then coughed again. Your throat was so dry - it felt like you haven't drank in decades, and with each cough you swore that your lungs were going to fly out of your mouth at the sheer force.

"Fixing you, obviously."

You raised your neck to try and catch a glimpse of your wounds but saw only the top of Blade's head, his raven hair tied back in a low ponytail. He was bent over your side, and just as you lowered your head back to the pillow a sharp bolt of pain shot through you, making you hiss and wince.

"That hurt!"

"It'll pass," he replied almost too casually. "Deal with it."

An uncomfortable pause ensued, during which you finally figured out that he was bandaging your torso up. You'd never expected anyone to find you back there, much less a Stellaron Hunter that you'd only interacted with five or six times, but thank the Aeons that at least someone did. But you did think it was strange that he was doing this for you, because from all your two-or-three-word conversations, you were sure that he wasn't the type to help an almost complete stranger. In fact, you'd think that he would be the one to cause these injuries in the first place.

While you were staring up at the ceiling in deep thought, Blade was lowkey kind-of admiring your skin. You weren't going to look down at him again anyway, it seems that you'd learned your lesson, but that just allowed him to eye your softness in more detail. This was his chance - he'd been admiring you from afar ever since you first met, and he wasn't about to let this opportunity to see what you looked like close-up pass.

Before he knew what he was doing, Blade's fingers reached out to lightly press onto skin that was near your wound, at which you hissed and leaned away from his touch.

"You sure that you're actually healing me?" you asked.

"Yes. I know what I'm doing, trust me."

He continued to press curiously but gently, making sure not to hurt you on purpose. Your skin was fascinating to him - it was soft, warm, while his was unforgivingly cold; yours had a fascinating shade of life about it and his didn't. This contrast was what made his eyes widen a little everytime he made physical contact with you, and he found small differences like these to amount to vast ones overall. Maybe this is what always made him think that you came from a different world entirely.

Blade then noticed that your hand was trembling by your side - the painkillers must be wearing off. He stood up from the chair beside the bed on which you were resting and reached for a couple pills and a glass of water on a nearby counter, moving them to the bedside table. His hands felt your back as he sat you up to administer the medicine.

You now saw where you were - from what you could tell, it was a small house or apartment somewhere. Dark wood covered the walls, ceiling, and floor, and tapestries and thriving plants littered the environment. You didn't know that he had a green thumb, but now that you did, you felt safer somehow - what if this cold, distant man was more human than you'd originally thought him to be?

His lithe, cold fingers brought you back to reality as they rested under your jaw, pulling it open gently, and your eyes focused on his admittedly quite handsome face again. Crimson eyes, the color of a blood moon, stared intensely at yours in avid concentration before travelling back to his other hand, which was now lifting a glass of sparkling golden liquid to your lips. There was a certain reverence of sorts glimmering in his expression, and this was accompanied by the fact that he was treating you like he would a glass flower. Your lips finally met the rim of the glass and when you finally tasted the elixir, you sighed.

It was cool and sweet, a refreshing sensation that battled the humidity of the room and the pain in your side. You drank the entire glass with ease and after Blade set it down on the bedside table, he wiped away some stray droplets of the shining liquid with a rough thumb.

That was it - Blade had become an entirely person just now. You could see it in his eyes and feel it as he breathed: this was not the same person who happened to be walking by a person on their deathbed and had enough pity in their secluded heart to heal them. He treated you like an old friend or a partner, perhaps, by taking you in.

"You'll experience drowsiness soon," he mentioned, "don't feel like you can't sleep. I won't leave you."

You laughed lazily in return, already feeling the effects of the painkillers. "So you can murder me in my sleep?"

"...I can leave-"

"No, no, I'm just kidding."

You sigh and relax into the pillows beneath you as Blade lowers you onto your back again. His gaze lingers on yours for maybe a second too long but he pulls away, preferring to sit down in a chair by the bedside and stare out at the scenery surrounding the house.

Once your eyes close and your breaths become quiet, he gives it a couple seconds to make sure you're asleep before softly starting to hum. It's an old tune from his past life, one which he used to smith to, and as midnight moonlight begins to stream in through the window, it veils your calm face in a hazy, shimmery glow that rivals even the smoothest of satins. He reaches a hand towards the apple of your cheek, cradling it in his palm as he sighs, a faint smile dancing on his lips.

"You're gonna kill me someday."

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #fluff #blade #hsr blade #blade hsr #blade x reader #star rail blade #blade x y/n #blade fluff #blade x you #hes so babygirl for some reason like???

[delcakoo]

彡 compromise. - p.sh

requested for 1k au event!

SUMMARY ! being roomates with the biggest (and hottest) slacker on campus was difficult to say the least. plates left on the counter, clothes from him and the girl’s he brings over left in the living room, the list goes on. one day after you’ve had enough of his uncleanliness, sunghoon offers you to be his girlfriend in exchange for a tidy, mess-free apartment. totally not worth it.. right?

PAIRING ! roommate!sunghoon x f!reader

WC ! 2.1k

GENRE ! roomates au, fake dating, fluff (?) and lots of banter

WARNINGS ! slight suggestive, making out, sunghoon being a bit too confident for his own good

a/n: woohooo first fic for the event done! thank you for requesting anon! <3

if you go into the living room and find another one of park sunghoon’s socks on your couch, you might just explode.

you take a deep breath in, and out. the moment of truth. you slam open the door to your sunghoon-proof bedroom, taking quick paces towards the living room and—

there it is.

a sad, lonely sock without it’s matching pair laid on your couch. you knew it.

park sunghoon. one of the most sought after guys on campus, yet it was only his first year of college.

meanwhile, it was your third. so how you became roommates with him? one, tragic answer: you were broke and desperate for someone to split rent with after a few.. unfortunate incidents with your past roommates.

sunghoon wasn’t a bad person. he did little things like pick up your forgotten mail, or turn on your coffee machine while you got ready in the bathroom. though, you'd still say he ranked number one on your list of the worst roommates you’ve ever had.

he was lazy, irresponsible, and oh so messy. 80% of the time, while you were busy being productive and studying, he was busy tackling people with a ball under his arm or in the middle of coaxing some girl to come home with him after partying all night (which didn’t take much effort on his part considering that face of his).

now, you weren’t a hater. sunghoon got into this university with his talent for football alone, so props to him for.. catching balls. honestly, if he wasn’t the way he was, you’d probably fall for his handsome charms yourself. but when his annoying, mosquito-like presence decided to intervene with the peaceful sanctuary that was once your neat and homely apartment, all wrath was destined to come out of you at some point.

for a while, you were nice enough to clean up after the younger boy, making pathetic excuses for him in your head in an effort to be a kind, forgiving roomate.

but after a month of dealing with his unwashed plates left on the counter, clothes scattered around the living room from not only him but also the girls he brings over, and all in all his untidiness everyday, you’ve finally snapped.

this feeling of undeniable rage may partially be because of how stressed you are from all the new assignments and lack of coffee, but you’ve never felt more ready for confrontation by the time you’ve reached sunghoon’s bedroom door.

you offer two passive aggressive knocks, not even waiting for a reply before yanking the door open. “look sunghoon— we have to talk.”

nobody.

you take a few cautious steps inside his disarrayed bedroom, nose wrinkling at the sight of a mountain of clothes near his bed despite a closet being a few steps over. there’s random magazines and papers scattered across the floor, along with an unkempt stash of trinkets thrown on top of his drawer. you glance at his closet, half opened and containing only about two jackets actually hung up on racks.

“woah, never thought i’d find the campus nun snooping around my bedroom.” you whip your head around to find a shirtless sunghoon staring down at you, toothbrush perkily sticking out of his mouth. his muscled biceps flex as he crosses his arms, raising a curious brow at the sock pinched between your nails.

your eyes bulge at the sight of his bare, sculpted torso, turning around with a tint of red rushing to your ears. “just because i don’t spend every night getting wasted doesn’t make me a nun, nor was i snooping,” you spit defensively.

sunghoon chuckles, padding across his room to pick up a random top off his shirt mountain. “says the girl who just covered her eyes like she’s never seen a shirtless guy before.” he smirks, glancing down at your childish bear printed pajamas. “i mean — not that i think you have.”

you spin back around, huffing in relief now that he was dressed and pointing to the sock in your hand. “shut up, i’m only here to listen to your amazing explanation on why i keep finding socks and other assortments of clothing all over the living— hey! don’t walk away when i’m talking to you!”

you frustratedly discard the sock somewhere on his bed, following your roommate back out to where he’s now rummaging through the kitchen pantry, toothbrush long forgotten on the sink’s rim. you take another deep breath, trying to stay calm. “sunghoon,” you begin.

“yeah, pretty girl?” your eye twitches in disbelief, hating the way butterflies flutter through your stomach from the nickname he’s always called you.

“i told you, don’t fucking call me that. now listen here,” you try to look stern, but sunghoon personally believes you look adorable. “i’ve been dealing with your bullshit all month without a single complaint,” you rant, watching as he pulls out a box of cinnamon toast crunch. “do you ever wonder how all those plates and bowls you leave in the sink magically disappear? yeah, well, that was me slaving my ass away like your personal housemaid!”

your roomate is completely unphased by your vent, too busy pouring his cereal into an empty bowl with a shrug. “nobody told you to clean those for me.”

moments like these made you question how you’ve dealt with the bastard for a whole month.

“if i don’t, they begin piling up into a jenga tower,” you fire back with a scoff, “similar to the wonderful sorting technique used in your bedroom.”

unbelievably, the boy giggles at that, taking a seat at the counter with his late night snack. “y’know, you’re pretty funny when you’re not locked up in your room all day.” your jaw tightens, snatching the milk away right as your roomate reaches out for it. he looks at you as if you just committed a crime, lips turning into a defeated (but adorable) pout. “hey, i’m trying to have cereal here.”

“sunghoon,” you snarl once more, holding the carton above his head like a parent would with a child’s toy.

“what?” he whines.

“if you don’t start doing shit around here, i’m kicking you out.”

instead of a dramatic gasp or begs for mercy and forgiveness like you’d hoped for, he snickers, pouncing up like a cat and snatching the milk back out of your grip. “yeah, right. as if you could afford this apartment by yourself.”

silence (besides the sound of sunghoon chewing his cinnamon toast crunch).

out of the corner of his eye, sunghoon sees your face drop in utter defeat. you look close to the verge of tears, knuckles turning white by your sides. yes, he may be a jerk sometimes, but he wasn’t that evil. his eyes softened slightly, letting out a thoughtful sigh as he munched on his spoonful of cereal.

suddenly, a lightbulb appears atop his head, smirking brilliantly. “okay, being the handsome genius i am, i’ve come up with an offer — a compromise, you could say.”

you didn’t know your roommate that well considering it’s only been a month since you’ve met, but you were confident that any ideas his pea-sized brain came up with weren’t going to be very good ones in your favor. you offer him a raise of your brow, gesturing for him to continue.

dropping his silver spoon back into the bowl, sunghoon rests his elbows up on the counter. “in exchange for ‘doing shit around here’, you have to be my girlfriend.”

you choke on your saliva, giving him a dumbfounded expression. “what!?”

“hear me out!” he quickly defends, “my parents are planning to set me up with this weird, artsy church girl, and i just can’t allow that to happen for my reputation sake. you’re my only hope, pretty.”

“first of all, you were basically calling me a nerd a few minutes ago, so i don’t see how i’d be any better than her. and what exactly would i have to do as your fake girlfriend— if i metaphorically took you up on this deal?”

sunghoon ignores the first half of your statement with no explanation. “well, probably have dinner with my family every once in a while, hold my hand, kiss me-“

you stumble slightly. “woah, woah- what?! why would we kiss in front of your parents?” you inquire stressfully, the thought of kissing sunghoon making your heart beat much faster than it should.

though honestly, this compromise sounded like a win-win in your book. finally, no more socks found on the couch or plate mountains in your sink, and getting to fake date park sunghoon along the way? you make sure not to give in just yet — you don’t need the guy’s ego skyrocketing any higher than it was — but you were feeling pretty great.

“to prove we’re serious, duh.” sunghoon rolls his eyes at your question, suddenly turning in the barstool to face you. “c’mon, let’s practise now.”

huh? wait, practise what?

does he mean—

you step away from the counter nervously, only to be pulled back by sunghoon’s grip on your wrist. he has a barely noticeable, smug smirk on his face at your sudden nervousness, grasping your hand tightly in his bigger one. “hey, i never said yes to the deal yet,” you gulp.

taking a leap of faith, sunghoon leans further in, his pointy nose touching yours. his breath tickles your lips, and you hate the way his closeness affects you. now you understand why no girl on campus could resist him; it was seemingly impossible.

“why not, baby? are you scared of having to kiss me? is that why you don’t want to say yes?” he teases, reaching his free hand up to softly run a thumb along your plush lips. for some reason, you don’t move away from his surprisingly gentle touch.

“n-no. i’m not scared of you, sunghoon.”

his smirk deepens in pure amusement. “then kiss me,” he encourages, calmly waiting for you to make the first move.

you take one last look at him. his slightly disheveled hair, the moles scattered perfectly along his features even more delicate up close. down to his curved nose, rubbing against the tip of yours affectionately. and lastly, his enchanting pink lips, just begging to be kissed by you.

so you do. before you can stop yourself, you’re kissing park sunghoon. the boy you were just scolding for his constant messes. the boy who was known and loved by your whole college, his reputation lying at the highest amongst everyone’s standards.

but it didn’t matter, in that moment, he was just sunghoon, your lazy, ridiculously hot roommate.

sunghoon finally frees your wrist, allowing you to reach up and rest your arms around his shoulders. to no surprise, he’s definitely the best kiss you’ve ever had, full of experience and confidence. the taste of cinnamon toast crunch runs through your senses, only furthering as he runs a tongue along your bottom lip, begging for entrance.

feeling playful, you refuse, making sunghoon grunt in annoyance. he pulls away for a second to glare at you. “that’s how you wanna be, huh? let me show you who’s in charge around here, then.”

before you can ponder on what that meant, his lips are back on yours more fierce than ever, standing up from his seat to force you right against the counter.

as you try to get comfortable in the new position, he harshly pinches your side. in a moment of surprise at his attack, you gasp, lips parting and giving sunghoon the perfect opportunity to force his tongue right into your mouth and explore every crevice of you.

it’s hard to keep up with sunghoon, he was much too intense for you. so you gently push him away, catching your breath hastily. when you finally look up at him, his lips are swollen, slightly wet and chapped.

it seems he understands that you want to stop here, so he moves back, giving you some space. “i.. i came here to scold you about your socks. how did this happen?” you ask to mostly yourself.

“my charms are irresistible.” sunghoon lets out a laugh, walking backwards towards his bedroom. “so, starting tomorrow you’re my girlfriend, okay pretty girl?”

still trying to calm your racing heart, you offer a small, defeated glance to your roommate. “yeah, whatever, pretty boy.” he smiles brightly at his newly earned nickname, turning around before closing his bedroom door for the night.

with a sigh, you glance back around only to find sunghoon’s half eaten bowl of cinnamon toast crunch, soggy and abandoned on the counter.

this deal wasn’t going to change anything, was it?

if you enjoyed, reblogs n’ comments are always appreciated and motivating!

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[gale-dragon-writer]

Guardian Zestial Pt 1

Something that has somewhat been living rent-free in my brain for a while.

}I{

When Charlie was an itty-bitty little babe, Lucifer started worrying about his precious little girl getting in trouble. Since Razzle and Dazzle aren't in existence yet (idk how old these two are or when Charlie got them as her servants/bodyguards), the King of Hell started looking for a suitable bodyguard that could double as a caretaker. The tricky bit was looking for someone who wouldn't try to use Charlie as leverage because this was Hell.

Therefore, Lucifer made a very detailed list of criteria that he wanted for this Protector for his precious little girl. Someone strong enough to protect Charlie from any type of threat within Hell, wouldn't use Charlie as leverage to get to Lucifer, wouldn't harm Charlie in "Any" way, could care for a child, smart enough to be a tutor if needed, and most importantly, someone Lucifer could genuinely trust.

Simple list, but given that this was Hell, that was a tall order. So Lucifer created little "Speye Ducks" to search the entire Pride Ring for his precious daughter's perfect protector.

Thankfully, none of the denizens of the Pride Ring noticed the Speye Ducks; if they did, they either didn't care about them or thought they weren't worth their time.

It takes a year or two for Lucifer to find some potential guardians for his precious little daughter. A handful of Sinners and a few members of the Goieta. The biggest issue was whether or not he could trust any of these potential guardians. Therefore, Lucifer created a plan to test these potential guardians. An easy test of trust on paper, but easy to fail.

Lucifer summons these people (separately) and gives them a sealed envelope, telling them that he needs them to deliver this secret letter to a potential grand commander for the army he's planning on making. Lucifer makes it a point to tell them he trusts them with this valuable information and not look at it. He sends them off after he tells them where this "commander" is. Once he gives all the potential Guardians the test, he teleports himself to said location and waits.

All but one failed the test. Zestial.

He is the only one to take a moment to weigh his options regarding this 'information', considering the pros and cons of looking at the 'information' and following Lucifer's orders. Seeing that it would be more beneficial to have the Ruler of Hell's trust in his corner over a glimpse at something that would possibly become public once the 'army' was established, Zestial proceeded to deliver the envelope to its destination without opening it.

Zestial is understandably surprised and confused when he arrives at the location and finds Lucifer there.

Lucifer congratulates the Overlord on passing his little trust test and then proceeds to tell Zesital why he did this and why. Ofc, Zesital is confused by all this.

Lucifer goes into more detail on his desire to have a perfect guardian for his precious daughter and why. He explains how Zestial fits the criteria he's looking for and wants him to be that guardian, and ofc Lucifer isn't asking Zestial to do this for free.

So they talk for a while to iron out this little Deal. For the care and protection of Charlette "Charlie" Morningstar (plus the possibility of being a teacher to her), Zestial will earn Lucifer's backing as an Overlord, given protected areas during the Extermination in his territories for the souls that he owns (not the entire territory because that will be too obvious to others in Hell and the Exorcists, but scattered across it in easy to access areas), and the access to the Morningstar Mansion to him and anyone he holds close to his heart. Ofc, Lusicer makes sure to put in the contract that Zestial couldn't use any personal information he gains while at the Morningstar Mansion or while caring for Charlie. Both beings keep their souls.

After solidifying the contract for the Deal, both Lucifer and Zestial agree to it and seal it.

It doesn't take too long before Zestial becomes attached to the cheery little toddler while in his care. While bitty Charlie didn't enjoy the screams of the denizens of Hell, she seemed to enjoy the teas that Zestial brought. The little tot was more interested in the sweeter teas than the bitter ones.

It doesn't take long before Zestial brings little Charlie (maybe when she's 6-7ish) over to the Carmine Family for a get-together. Odette and Clara were overjoyed by the fact that they could be big sister figures to Little Charlie. Carmilla is understandably confused by this, at least until Zestial confides to her about his little charge while the children are playing. Ofc, Carmilla gives him a 'what are you thinking?' talk. Zestial understands his friend's concerns and explains why he accepted the Deal, adding that he asked for Lucifer to also place a Safe Zone in the Carmine Residence and that little Charlie might as well be his little goddaughter. Carmilla couldn't help but agree that the youngest of the Morningstars was easy to love and was willing to look after the youngling in case Zestial was busy, somewhat adding that her daughters would be willing to look after her too. (Family Bonding!!)

Over the years, Zestial learned more about the Morningstars as well as somewhat became part of the family.

But the more subtle yet information Zestial gained came specifically during and after the Extermination. He saw how much the Morningstars loathed that day. Charlie was more obvious about that since she was still pretty young and didn't understand what was going on. Lilith seemed to get irritable. And Lucifer was... Complicated... He seemed to have this strange combination of anger and sadness when this day came around... Zestial watched these moments from the shadows for years, unsure how to broach the subject.

Until one year when the Exorcist decided to have the Extermination a week early when Zestial was out and about with the Carmine Family and little Charlie for an afternoon stroll in a bizarre to get some supplies for said event. The attack was sudden and there was no real time to take cover for anyone. However, Zestial was quick to act and used his powers to grab the Carmines and little Charlie and then teleport them all into the Morningstar Mansion with only seconds to spar.

Ofc, Lucifer is confused by their sudden presence and asks what was going on. When he's told about the early Extermination, Lucifer goes through several different emotions in a matter of seconds. Sock, disbelief, worry, relief, anger, and resentment in that order. Little Charlie rushed into her father's arms in tears, still terrified over the whole ordeal.

That was when Odette and Clara shouted at Lucifer, asking him why the hell he allowed the Exorcist to do the Extermination every year before Zestial and Carmilla could stop them.

Lucifer quickly snaps back in anger, "You really think I want this shit to happen!?" The ruler of hell then says in anger, "But does Heaven listen when I suggest any alternative solutions?! NO!! They don't give a crap!!" Lucifer hugs his confused daughter closer when he says softly, "All I was able to do was make sure they leave the Hellborns alone..."

The Carmine Family and Zestial... Did not know how to respond to this... Reveal... But due to Lucifer and Zestial's deal, this information stays between them. Never to be told to anyone outside the Morningstar home...

A few years go by, little Charlie starts spending a little more time outside the Morningstar mansion. But most of that time was either with Zestial or the Carmine Family, learning a lot of useful skills. Charlie learned about conjuring magic from Zesital while she learned combat and weaponry from the Carmines. It didn't take too long before she could handle any type of threat on her own, mostly. Charlie was still an oddly kind-hearted soul for a hellborn and princess of hell. Zestial usually takes care of the would-be assassins behind Charlie's back by using fear tactics.

To be continued in pt 2.

#hazbin hotel #Zestial #hazbin zestial #Hazbin Charlie #Hazbin Hotel Charlie #Hazbin Lucifer #canon divergent au #Rough outline #Hazbin Hotel Lucifer #Hazbin Hotel Zestial #carmilla carmine #odette carmine #clara carmine

[questforgalas]

Thank you for coming back

Notes: So once again, @zaana's incredible art lived rent free in my head until I put it down on paper. So here's a delightful AU where Crosshair doesn't get sent to Tantiss because guess who gets to him first? Chose to do a rescue from Barton IV because Cross is in his imperial armor in the art, and I thought "Hey, let's maybe give him a break and not make him go through torture before he's rescued?" Neat idea, right? Let's tell Jen and Brad

WC: 3K (lol this was going to be a drabble)

Characters: The Bad Batch (all of them!)

Tags: Wrecker POV (he deserves all the Crosshair reunion energy), angst at the end (Crosshair is going through it ok), hurt/comfort, giant family group hug, Crosshair and Wrecker cry, Hunter is emotional, canon typical violence, implied mistreatment by the Empire (did I mention Crosshair is going through it?), family reunion, all the family fluff I could fit into 3k words

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Read on AO3

The sound of blaster fire was becoming permanent in Wrecker’s ears. Hunkered down behind a duracrete barrier, he kept his DC-17 trained on the Imps attempting to advance on his position, blaster bolts streaming past his head. 

“Seriously, who trained these guys to shoot,” he thought to himself, needing to only dodge a few bolts from the barrage while his targets fell with each pull of his trigger. 

The landing platform at the depot on Barton IV was looking more like a true battlefield and less like a remote outpost with every passing minute. Two T-4 shuttles lay in smoking ruins - the first thanks to Hunter’s skill on the Marauder’s rear gun and the second thanks to an excellent detonator throw by Wrecker - and stormtrooper bodies lay scattered across the duracrete ground. So far, Wrecker and Hunter were executing their part of the plan perfectly, but when it came to creating distractions, there wasn’t much guess work as to Wrecker’s success rate. 

The Batch’s intel told them that the depot, located on a desolate, frozen planet that rivaled Hoth’s  icy temperatures, normally operated as a blip on the Empire’s priority list. In fact, blip might have been giving it too much credit. The small clone trooper squad that was assigned to protection detail put in requests for equipment, supplies, and reinforcements throughout their year of service, and every request fell on deaf imperial ears. Gathered from the information Tech found during his hacking, Commander Mayday of the squad put in a request for reinforcements 40 rotations ago, citing that only five members of his squad remained alive at the time the request went in, but Tech couldn’t find any log of a response anywhere in the records. Complete silence from the Empire. 

Until 4 rotations ago. The call went out for a platoon of stormtroopers to ready for deployment to Barton IV with orders to transport cargo of high importance to the Empire from the depot to the military base on Coruscant. Prior to the platoon’s arrival, a small squad of clone troopers was sent to scout and ready the depot for the cargo transfer. The squad consisted of two standard troopers and one specialized. One prickly, stubborn, unyielding specialized trooper who Wrecker couldn’t wait to see again. 

When Tech caught chatter that a clone trooper shot a commanding imperial officer in broad daylight in front of an imperial depot, he initially intended to send the intel directly to Captain Rex, informing him of another defecting clone who would be in need of assistance, but after he scanned the information log, he didn’t register his datapad falling from his hands, thudding on the floor, only able to to focus on activating the comm on his vambrace, urging Hunter to get to the Marauder as quickly as possible. Because there in front of him, written across the Marauder’s main computer, was CT-9904: Defector. Charged with the murder of Lieutenant Nolan. In custody on Barton IV. Scheduled for armed transfer in two rotations. 

The discussion was short - Hunter the only one remaining cautious until Tech confirmed the lack of security at the depot, even with the stormtrooper platoon coming in - and the Batch set their course to Barton IV less than two hours after the message was intercepted. The plan was easy, one the Batch could nearly execute in their sleep, even with their newer blonde addition. Create a distraction to draw the majority of security out into the open which Hunter and Wrecker would engage while Omega provided cover from the Marauder. Meanwhile, Tech and Echo skirt along the edge of the chaos, slip into the depot undetected, locate Crosshair’s location, and extract him while neutralizing any remaining threats if necessary. 

Plans 5, 4, and 21. The Batch specialty. 

“Wrecker, incoming! Northwest!” Hunter’s smokey voice called over the commotion. 

The far gate of the depot opened, ten stormtroopers running out to join the fight. “Yeah, I see ‘em, Sarge,” Wrecker confirmed. “They look excited to see us.” 

Hunter took cover behind his barrier, and turned his head in Wrecker’s direction.

“How about you give our hosts a warm greeting?” Hunter suggested, cocking his head to the side. Wrecker could feel the smug smirk under that helmet.

“Gladly,” Wrecker responded gleefully. 

Reaching into the pack on his back, he grabbed two thermal detonators, clicked them live, and chucked. They arced into the air, curving in opposite directions, landing right in the middle of the oncoming troopers, and Wrecker watched as all ten stormtroopers disappeared into a beautiful burst of orange, red, and black. 

“Direct hit,” Wrecker yelled, pumping his DC-17 in triumph. 

Across the way, Hunter gave a quick thumbs up and popped his head above his barrier. Wrecker did the same, confirming that the landing platform was clear of imps for the moment, but they knew more troopers would arrive soon. They’d only taken out about 30 of them so far. 

“Agh, where are they,” Hunter wondered, helmet trained on the door they expected to see their brothers emerge from. 

“Give ‘em a few more minutes, Sarge. I doubt the Empire just left Crosshair in a set of binders on a crate.” 

“They’re dumb enough to,” Hunter said. A soft chuckle came through his modulator, “Wonder how long he’d humor them until he took them all out with his hands still bound.” 

“Knowing Crosshair? They wouldn’t even get the binders on him,” Wrecker laughed. 

Hunter went quiet, helmet still pointed at the door. Then his shoulders fell like he was bowing to a weight Wrecker couldn’t see. “We’ll have to be patient. He’s…” Hunter paused. “He’s probably not the Crosshair we remember. There are going to be some … invisible wounds.” 

Wrecker released his own shuttered breath. He looked down at the ground for a moment, and then looked back up to find Hunter looking back at him. “Doesn’t matter how long it takes. We’ll help patch those up too.” 

Hunter remained still for a breath and then nodded. 

The silence was interrupted by a chime on Hunter’s comm. “What’ve you got, Omega?” he asked as he activated the connection. 

“I’m picking up multiple heat signatures heading our way. Looks like our little break is over,” Omega’s voice chirped over the comm. 

“Copy that,” Hunter responded.

Wrecker brought his own comm up to his mouth. “What’s your count, kid?” he asked playfully. 

“I’m at 4,” Omega answered, a smug tone floating through. 

“Only 4? You’re falling behind. I’m at 18,” Wrecker said. 

“I don’t think the thermal detonators should count,” Hunter interjected. 

“What?! Did you see how perfectly those landed? Probably my best yet! Not even Tech could pull that off.” 

“It’s hardly fair when I’m all the way back here on the Marauder!” Omega argued. 

“Excuses excuses, kid,” Wrecker teased. Their debate came to a quick halt when the remaining hangar doors of the depot opened, revealing the last wave of the platoon. “Alright, break time’s over. Shoot good, kid.” 

The platform became engulfed in battle once again. Blaster bolts peppered the air. Thermal detonators flew. Line after line of stormtroopers tried to take the advantage on the two ground soldiers and their coverage, but Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega held them back with ease. Wrecker heard General Skywalker speaking to Hunter about something called meditation once - a staple Jedi practice of centering one’s mind and connecting with the force through quiet sitting - and while Wrecker wasn’t sure this would meet the Jedi standard, he imagined this was the closest to meditation he would ever come. Surrounded by the sounds of battle. Adrenaline pumping in his veins. He’d hit a point of focus that drowned everything else out, his mission the only thought in his mind. And he was dam good at it, too. 

His DC-17 sang, and he let out a jovial laugh as he took down another line of troopers. As he focused on the enemies in front of him, the squad’s comm channel chimed in his helmet, and the only thing in the galaxy that could divert his attention from the battle in front of him called through the speakers.

“Hunter. Wrecker. We’ve got him. We’re approaching the exit. What’s the status of the platform?” Echo’s voice came through. 

For a second, Wrecker and Hunter turned towards each other, both chests rising rapidly with fast breaths not caused by the battle in front of them, and Wrecker knew if he could see Hunter’s eyes, they’d reflect the same bottomless relief he was feeling. 

Wrecker forced himself back to the present and provided cover fire while Hunter responded. 

“You’re clear to exit. A few imps left but nothing we can’t handle. Wrecker and I will provide cover fire while you cross the platform. Go directly to the Marauder,” Hunter ordered. 

Wrecker’s breath caught in his throat when a low, raspy voice could be heard in the background. “No, we thought we’d take a hike in the mountains.”

A hitched breath came through, and in his peripheral, Wrecker noticed Hunter lean his helmet back against the duracrete barrier, shoulders shaking. 

“I never thought I’d miss his attitude,” Omega piped in. 

That broke the tension building in Wrecker’s head, and a laugh barreled out from his chest. Brain clear and ready to act again, he focused on the remaining stormtroopers trying to hold their ground. 

“Omega, get the engines running. We’re getting off this hunk of ice as soon as we’re all onboard,” Hunter finished relaying the orders. 

“One more thing,” Tech’s voice came through this time. “I did the scan. The inhibitor chip has indeed been removed, but only after the encounter on Bracca. Crosshair did remove it voluntarily unbeknownst to the Empire.”

“Tech kind of refused to leave the holding cells until he was able to confirm it all. Hacked records and everything here on the depot. That’s what took us so long,” Echo supplied.

“Thank the Maker for Tech, and his stubborn need for knowledge,” Hunter mumbled. He went back on the comm, “Glad to hear it. Now get out here.”

Hunter turned to Wrecker. “Let’s take out as many as we can before they get here. Once they emerge, you lay down cover fire, and I’ll take overwatch.” 

“Copy that,” Wrecker replied, and they went to work. 

Time that had been passing at light speed slowed to the flow of Mustafar lava. Only ten stormtroopers remained posted across the platform, and Wrecker was determined to clear as many as he could before his brothers emerged. 

Another minute passed. Another. Then another. Time was taunting him.  

A whoosh floated over the blasterfire. The blasted door to the depot finally opened, and there in the doorway were three bent over figures - two supporting the weight of the third in between them - hobbling onto the landing deck. Wrecker allowed himself one glance hoping it would calm his running mind. Echo took most of the middle figure’s weight, flesh arm wrapped around their waist and scomp arm securing the arm wrapped across Echo’s back dangling over his shoulder, while Tech kept one arm around the figure’s waist and kept his blaster at the ready in the other. 

As Wrecker glanced at them,  it wasn’t the figure’s distinct all black armor - the armor of the imperial special forces - that identified him to Wrecker. No, it was the tattoo around their right eye. The tattoo Wrecker sat and watched as Tech gave it to them when they were still just cadets. The tattoo that represented their pride in their skill. The tattoo that told everyone exactly which batch he belonged to, front and center for all to see. The crosshair. 

Flanking from behind, Tech easily took down three stormtroopers before they made their way down the stairs. The remaining seven stormtroopers barked out orders to fall back, trying to regroup due to the new arrivals, and Wrecker used their confusion to his advantage, taking out another three in one go. Realizing they were outnumbered and outmatched, the remaining four stormtroopers fell back to the hangar, shooting wildly at any target they could see. 

Slower than Wrecker would like, his three brothers made their way to his and Hunter’s position across the platform. As soon as they crossed the threshold of their barriers, Hunter stood from his coverage, falling in step to provide cover directly at their backs. 

“Alright, Wrecker. Let’s keep these guys pinned as we head to the ship,” Hunter said. 

Jumping into position, Wrecker kept a steady pace back to the Marauder without breaking his fire on the remaining stormtroopers. Hunter hit one more as they walked, and Wrecker had his finger on the trigger to take down another when a streak of pink flew over his head and directly into the helmet of his target. 

He glanced over his shoulder. 

“Final count: 12,” Omega beamed down at him from the top of the ramp into the Marauder. 

“Aha! Nice shot, kid! Now let’s get out of here,” Wrecker said, barreling up the ramp into the ship. 

The ramp closed up as the ship made its way into the air, and the energy within immediately went still. Tech sat in the cockpit, taking over the controls from Omega once on board, but Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, Omega, and Crosshair remained in the hold. 

Crosshair sat in the chair in front of the computer, slumped over, one hand on the armrest propping him while an elbow rested on a knee like that was all the energy he could muster. He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling as if he’d just finished a training sprint back on Kamino. Wrecker quickly gave his body a once over. Crosshair had always been lithe, by far the smallest body mass of the Bad Batch, but there had been muscle underneath those long limbs that gave any regular clone trooper a run for his money. Now, Wrecker clocked only bones showing underneath the exposed areas his armor didn’t cover, and his cheekbones were sharp above the hollowness of his cheeks. Purple blotched under his eyes, and it was impossible not to notice the deep scar that covered the right side on the back of his head. The scar he received when he took the full heat of a Venator ion engine. 

The same engine he tried to trap his brothers in. 

“Thank you…for coming for me. I…I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t,” Crosshair drawled, head bent down. Whether he was unable to lift it from lack of strength or not being able to face the current scene, Wrecker wasn’t sure. His own heart was thudding in his chest, threatening to burst out. He called on every ounce of discipline and self-restraint he learned in his years as a soldier and remained rooted in place, holding his breath. The rest of the Batch stood as still as statues, four sets of eyes on their silver-haired brother. 

“You can drop me off at the closest port. You can pick. Doesn’t matter to me,” Crosshair said to the floor. Still, no one else spoke. He raised his head, glancing at each of them. His gaze settled on Hunter. “I…I’d understand if that’s what you want to do. It’s what you should do.” 

The five of them felt the Marauder lurch into hyperspace, but still, Echo, Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker didn’t budge. Footsteps approached from the cockpit, and soon, Tech joined them, choosing to sit in the chair across from Crosshair. The silence grew, and Wrecked noticed the crease between the sniper’s eyebrows deepen while his eyes darted around the group.

“Well, aren’t any of you going to say something?” Crosshair asked, frustration creeping into his voice. He glanced around one more time, and finally stood up from the chair, a growl coming from his throat, back hunched like he was ready to pounce, and his gaze locked on Hunter, a finger pointed at the sergeant. “Listen, I didn’t ask you to come get me. I was ready to die on that platform after I shot the lieutenant, and I was ready to die in whatever maker-forsaken place they were going to send me. You hear me? I didn’t ask for this.” He gestured around the room, around the Batch. 

“So don’t make me a burden you don’t want. Drop me anywhere. Leave me. It’s what I deserve - oof!” 

Wrecker couldn’t take it anymore, and as he watched Crosshair teeter on the precipice of self-destruction, he took two strides towards his brother, and engulfed him in his arms. 

Crosshair stiffened, his arms frozen mid-gesture to the side. Wrecker stood there, arms firmly wrapped around Crosshair’s back and shoulders, head dipping to rest on top of Crosshair’s head, and he waited. Eventually, Crosshair’s arms fell to his sides, but his body remained stiff like he wasn’t actually registering what was happening. Then, after a few breaths, his arms slowly rose, one wrapping under Wrecker’s arm and the other circling over his shoulder. 

“Why did you come for me?” Wrecker heard muffled into his chestplate. 

“We don’t leave our own behind,” Wrecker answered simply. 

Wrecker felt the shaking first, then he heard the soft sobs. Tightening his arms, he held his once-lost brother as if challenging the galaxy to try and separate them again. When he felt Crosshair crumble into his chest, he released the grip he’d been holding on his own emotions, and the tears flowed freely. Tears of sorrow for what Crosshair endured. Tears of rage at the Empire. Tears of sweet relief at his family being whole again. 

Wrecker felt a pair of arms sneak between his waist and Crosshair’s chest, and when he looked up, he saw Hunter wrapped around Crosshair’s back, arms crushing the sniper into the sergeant’s chest. “We’ve got you, Cross,” Hunter murmured. 

One-by-one, Tech, Echo, and Omega joined in, the last squeezing herself into the middle, wrapping her arms around Crosshair’s leg, and even when the sobs quieted, they remained that way. There was a lot to talk about. A long road of trust to regain. They were about to navigate rough terrain. And the past will resurface, in old wounds, physical and not. But none of that mattered right now. In the middle of their home, a family reunited. Unsure what the future would bring them, but ready to face it all together.

#tay writes the bad batch #tay writes #divider by samspenandsword #the bad batch #star wars #hunter #wrecker #crosshair #tech #omega #echo #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb omega #tbb echo #tbb tech #tbb crosshair

[inkformyblood]

i would know you anywhere (CWFKB #10)

Kissing Through Smiles @codywanfirstkissbingo Modern AU, University Graduation

“Cody!”

Rising on his toes at the call of his name, bracing his elbow against Rex’s shoulder in order to steady himself and ignoring the grunt from the other man, Cody peers over the crowd. The majority are dressed in the dark robes of graduation, flashes of colour and pattern from the clothes of their visitors, but Cody could pick Obi-Wan out in a concert crowd of thousands. The other man has braced himself against one of the lampposts in the corner of the square, waving his arm frantically in the air. 

The dark robes look good on him, hanging open except for the thin golden chain at his neck that holds it closed at the top. Beneath it, Obi-Wan wears a crisp white shirt and Cody bites back a laugh in recognition. He knows that shirt well, Obi-Wan had been frantically ironing it earlier that morning, the small board balanced across the back of the sofa as it had been one of the only clear spaces in the flat, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth as he worked. Cody hadn’t been in much of a better state, having lived in the same hoodie and trousers for the previous week while his final exam had drawn ever nearer, but he had still kept out of the way of both Obi-Wan and the trailing cord while he cooked them both breakfast. It had been nice, domestic almost, bringing back memories of when Cody had still lived in his childhood home without such mundane concerns like rent and groceries. 

“Obi-Wan!” Cody waves his free hand, leaning more fully onto Rex to do so. Rex, a begrudging support, snaps something up at him that Cody doesn’t bother to listen to, and widens his stance to better support Cody’s weight. He drops down after another moment, luxuriating in the way Obi-Wan’s grin had impossibly brightened even more after seeing him, uncaring that his own smile is beginning to cause his cheeks to ache. He’s happy, deliriously, utterly happy. 

Jango chuckles, his back pressed to the broader one of Seventeen, using his bulk to hide the trailing smoke from his cigarette as he breathes in and then out. “You don’t need to hang around us all the time. I’ve got more than enough sons to be paternal to today if you want to go see your boyfriend.”

“Not my boyfriend,” Cody informs him, casting a glance at his smoke that Jango ignores with the same ease Cody has inherited.

“Life partner then. Now, off you go.”

Cody isn’t about to let an opportunity like this slip through his fingers so he brushes a kiss against Jango’s cheek and darts out of the close circle of his brothers and away across the crowded square. He twists around the other groups, careful to keep his shoulders in check and try to make his way across to Obi-Wan as unobtrusively as he could, but he doesn’t know how successful he was. A scattered handful of glares pierce his back, a few exclamations of annoyance, but none of that matters as Cody reaches Obi-Wan, his hands already extended to help Cody up onto the pedestal of the lamppost next to him. His skin is warm, his hands rougher than Cody would have expected still given the purely the academic lean of his course, and Cody wraps an arm around his shoulder as Obi-Wan’s grip falls to his waist, holding him securely. 

“Hello there,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his nose bumping against Cody’s as they centre themselves on the limited space. 

“Hey.” Cody pulls in a breath through his teeth, tasting the sharp artificial scent of Obi-Wan’s shampoo — borrowed from Cody’s apartment and he’d never considered the impact of smelling something so familiar on someone else — and the rich scent of his cologne. There’s a faint sheen over his collarbone from it and Cody presses his cheek against Obi-Wan’s, hugging him tightly. “I thought you would be with your family.”

Obi-Wan chuckles, his breath warm against Cody’s cheek as he leans into his hold. “Grandfather is busy conducting a tour. I believe the student guide originally assigned the role is receiving quite the education on the history of the place, and Qui-Gon is joining him to reminisce about all the hijinks he has gotten up to. If we can make it to the ceremony without another feud erupting, then I will count the day as a success.”

“Such a low barrier for success,” Cody teases, drawing back slightly. He doesn’t move far, can’t with their limited space beneath their feet and, even if he could, he wouldn’t want to. The future that had been looming is barreling them towards them, both fragile and wide-eyed in the headlights. “Though I can’t say my classification is going to be any better.”

“Yes. It did make you easier to spot.” Obi-Wan leans back, waving once more to the huddle of Cody’s family. Cody looks as well, he can’t pick out individual features from this distance but he can make out the uniform shade of their skin, the majority dressed in pale coloured shirts and dark trousers, and the dark colour of their hair. They stand out and Cody grumbles something into Obi-Wan’s collar. “Rex is shouting something to you.”

Cody, reluctantly, looks. 

“I’m going to kill him. Obi-Wan, let me down.”

Obi-Wan bites the tip of his tongue as he fights back his laughter, his shoulders shaking. His grip tightens on Cody’s waist, keeping him close. “We could always… follow his suggestion? If you’d like.”

Cody straightens. He feels like he isn’t breathing, like he hasn’t taken a full breath since Obi-Wan first called his name and he surged across a courtyard to reach his side. “If I’m kissing you, it’s because I want to. Not because of my brother’s suggestion.” 

“Whatever you say, love.”

Obi-Wan grins and lowers his mouth to Cody’s who is also unable to stop smiling. The angle isn’t right, the tilt of their heads restricted by their close quarters, but they laugh together, kissing in the sunshine. The future can wait for a little while longer; they’re together here and now. 

#codywan #star wars #commander cody #obi wan kenobi #cody x obi wan #my writing #cwfkb2023 #codywan first kiss bingo #fanfic

[snowmist-hashira]

[Chapter title: Irresistible]

Muichiro Tokitou x Reader

Wattpad: [KNY Fanfiction] (One shots) Tokito Muichiro x Reader

Archive: Kimetsu No Yaiba: Tokitou Muichiro x Reader Master list: ♠ Information ♠

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I am open to requests for Muichiro x Reader content, and I also enjoy engaging in roleplays. If you're interested in either, please feel free to check out my pinned post for more information. ~ ♠

The late evening had arrived, and the once thunderous music had subsided, replaced by a hushed silence. Surveying the scene, her friends sprawled across the living room, their exhausted bodies in various positions, their faces etched with weariness from the night of revelry.

Y/n sighed as she looked around the messy living room. Empty bottles, half-eaten snacks, and scattered party decorations were strewn across the floor. It had been a wild night, filled with laughter, dancing, and perhaps a bit too much alcohol.

She gently tiptoed over her sleeping friends, careful not to disturb their much-needed rest. As she made her way towards her bedroom, she couldn't help but smile at the memories created during the evening. The party had been a success, and everyone seemed to have had a great time.

Thankfully the decision to rent the villa instead of hosting the party at her own house was made. She couldn't imagine the chaos that would have ensued if they had chosen her place. Her friends had suggested it, assuming it would be more convenient, but she had insisted on the villa for precisely this reason.

The thought of her pristine home being transformed into the aftermath of a wild party made her shudder. She cherished her space and valued cleanliness, so it was a relief that the mess was contained within the rented villa.

Y/n wasn't much of a drinker anyways, hence saving her of losing her dignity unlike her friends who were now scattered and laying down on the floor.

Y/n stepped out onto the patio, the cool night air enveloping her as she made her way towards the pool. The sight before her was breathtaking. The large, inviting pool glistened under the soft illumination of the surrounding dimly lights, casting a mesmerizing reflection on the water's surface. It was a tranquil scene, a stark contrast to the raucous energy of the party that had taken place just hours before.

The gentle ripples and undulations of the water captured her gaze, and she noticed the elegant movement of long strands of hair gracefully gliding through the pool. Initially assuming it belonged to a female friend, she soon recognized the unmistakable mint-colored ends that distinguished it.

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise as Muichiro emerged from the pool. The sight before her was nothing short of stunning. Droplets of water cascaded down his chiseled physique, accentuating his well-defined muscles. His long black-to-minty hair clung to his shoulders and back, creating an ethereal and captivating image. She couldn't help but appreciate the beauty before her. Muichiro had always been attractive, but in this moment, he seemed like a work of art. His presence exuded confidence and a quiet strength that drew her gaze.

"Y/n, How come you're still awake?" Muichiro inquired, his gaze fixed on her. Water droplets lingered on his lashes, resembling tears, as they cascaded down to his chest, adding to the allure that captivated Y/n's attention.

"U-Um, I can't sleep." she stammered, her cheeks flushing slightly as her gaze trailed to his well-defined abs. He looked incredibly attractive in that moment.

"And I don't feel tired just yet," she explained, her eyes briefly scanning the surroundings, trying to divert her focus from him.

Muichiro hummed in agreement, he too didn't felt tired. He shifted his position, sitting on the ledge of the pool beside her, his feet still dipped into the cool water. The moonlight cast a soft glow on their surroundings, heightening the sense of calmness.

Y/n watched as Muichiro's damped strands scattered messily across his forehead and the concrete, adding a touch of untamed allure to his already captivating appearance. Her eyes lingered on his relaxed posture, the way his muscles flexed slightly as he settled into a comfortable position.

"Isn't the water cold at this hour?" Y/n asked, stealing glances at him, her eyes attempting to catch a glimpse of his gaze hidden beneath his drenched bangs.

He shook his head gently. "No, not at all." Muichiro leaned closer to the pool, observing his own reflection on the translucent surface.

With a mischievous grin on his lips, he cupped some water in his palm and playfully declared, "See?" He then splashed the cupped water onto Y/n's face.

"WHA—" Y/n's eyes widened in surprise as the cool water splashed onto her face, drenching her in an unexpected splash. The droplets trickled down her skin, leaving her momentarily stunned. She blinked, wiping away the water that clung to her eyelashes, and her surprise turned into a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

She stared at Muichiro, her expression shifting from shock to playfulness. Despite the unexpected splash, she couldn't help but be captivated by the enchanting sound of his laughter. It was infectious and filled with a carefree joy that seemed to light up the night.

"Mui! I just took a bath!" Her eyes twitching in a playful banter of annoyance. "Oh, you think that's funny, huh?" Without a second thought, she reached her hand into the pool and splashed water back at him, her aim true and retaliatory. The water splashed against Muichiro's chest, droplets scattering around him, and he let out a surprised gasp before breaking into another bout of laughter.

"I find this much more entertaining," Muichiro remarked before abruptly yanking Y/n towards the pool, causing her to be drenched in a cascade of water that spilled over the pool's edge.

For most people, being in the pool would be no cause for concern, but unfortunately, Y/n did not know how to swim. As she was pulled into the water, panic seized her, resembling a startled cat that had accidentally fallen into a body of water

"M-MUI!" Y/n's heart raced as she instinctively wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, seeking support and stability in her vulnerable state.

As she clung to him, her face mere inches away from his, she couldn't help but feel a mixture of embarrassment and heightened awareness of their proximity. The rush of adrenaline mixed with the heat of her blush, creating a cocktail of emotions that swirled within her.

Muichiro's smug grin didn't escape her notice, and she couldn't help but feel a mix of annoyance and amusement at his mischievousness. Part of her wanted to wipe that smug off his face for pulling such a prank, but another part found the closeness and intimacy of the moment exhilarating. Muichiro's laughter filled the air, intertwining with the sounds of the water and creating a joyful symphony. His arms encircled Y/n's waist, providing a reassuring embrace that eased her worries.

"Y-You bastard..." Y/n cussed despite this her lips curved into a reluctant smile. She couldn't deny the magnetic pull that Muichiro had on her, his charm and charisma breaking through any attempts to stay angry with him.

Muichiro knew this and often abused this, it was so unfair!

But what can you do?

You can't resist him.

"Maybe I am a bit of a bastard," Muichiro admitted, his voice tinged with amusement. "But you know you love me anyway."

Y/n's blush deepened, the truth of his words ringing in her ears. She couldn't deny the strong affection and connection she felt towards him, even if it sometimes came with its fair share of exasperation. It was a delicate dance between annoyance and adoration, a balance that seemed to define their unique bond.

She playfully nudged him with her elbow, a mock scowl on her face. "You're insufferable, you know that?" she teased, unable to hide the affectionate glimmer in her eyes.

Muichiro chuckled, his gaze softening as he looked at her. "And you're too irresistible for your own good," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "I can't help but be drawn to you."

Smooth bastard.

Yeah, you definitely can't resist him.

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