#But my bunnies are incorrigible

[k-marzolf]

the wolf and the rabbit.

Billy and you have danced around each other, when Billy finally gets his hands on you.

Maria’s best friend!reader, smut (18+!), oral (f receiving), p in v (unprotected, wrap it before you tap it), kissing, teasing, possessive behavior, fem!reader.

818 words.

If only Maria could see you now, pinned under her husband’s best friend. She’d be shocked at her shy little friend moaning wantonly for him. But he made you feel wanted, and desired.

Like you weren’t just an undesirable chubby.

“Sweetest cunt I ever tasted,” Billy purred, a bruising grip on your thighs as he spread them wider. “My good girl, aren’t you, bunny?” He asked, smiling wickedly.

“Bunny?” You squeaked, thighs trembling.

He flashed his teeth in a smile; “You remind me of a little rabbit, caught in the jaws of the wolf.”

His mouth dipped down, tasting you again as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste, enough of you.

And maybe he couldn’t.

“Billy, would you like some peaches?” You’d asked during the summer, holding one out to him, affectionately.

Billy’s mouth wrapped around the fruit, and your fingers, making your cheeks warm, but you maintained eye contact with him. “Tastes sweet,” he said, smirking.

“You’re incorrigible, Billy.” You had admonished shyly.

He had just laughed.

“Billy, please. Need you.” you whined, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his mouth off your pussy, and wrapping your legs around him as he kissed up your body to your mouth.

You felt empty.

“What do you need, bunny?” He asked, curling his fingers inside you, making you keen.

“Need your cock.” You begged prettily, as you noticed his eyes shine with something dark. It excited you, drew you in like a moth to a flame.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said, roughly pulling your hips to meet his. He’d never wanted something more than he wanted you. Probably power. Maybe Anvil.

Every time he saw you, he yearned for you while you wore those pretty dresses, and your honeyed words, and your tender touches.

“You look pretty, baby.” Billy remembered saying one time.

“So do you, Billy. Devilish.” You’d replied, shyly.

Billy had laughed. God, you were too sweet.

“Yours,” you murmured shyly, letting out a cry of relief as he pushed into you, stretching you. You both groaned. He gave you no time to adjust, as he braced himself on the headboard bottoming out inside you, and drew back, setting a quick pace.

His fingers palmed your breasts, making you arch as he leaned down, taking your nipples into his mouth, scraping them with his teeth, and you mewled squeezing him. You burned for him—none of your boyfriends had made you feel like this, like you were burning from the inside out.

“Fuck, this pussy’s mine.” Billy growled, fingers digging into your hips. And you wondered if he was serious, as he made you keen helplessly, trying to keep up with his pace.

The sound of your soft moans, and the skin slapping against skin filled the room. Your nails dug into his hips leaving crescent moon marks.

Billy’s own moans made you realize you were making him feel just as good as he was making you feel.

You pulled him down for a kiss, making him stiffen for a moment. He wasn’t used to affection during sex. Women didn’t want affection from Billy, they wanted his money, and his status; sex had been their tool.

But your sweet kisses had him relaxing into your affection slowly, enjoying your tender touches, as you stroked his sweaty hair, making him groan into your kiss.

He wanted more of your affection, more of you, and it fucking terrified him. You wrapped your whole body around him as he fucked into you. He pulled back snarling, “Mine.”

“All Billy’s.” You panted, nails leaving red marks down his back. Your toes curled, and your back arched as you came around him, squeezing him.

“Fuck!” Billy swore, fingers moving to your clit. “You’re gonna come for me again, bunny.” He panted, making you whine.

“Can’t,” you breathed.

You’d rarely cum once with a partner let alone twice. But god, you could feel it building again, the way he stroked you, cock unremitting, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. The way his fingers teased you, making you clench around him.

“Take it,” growled Billy, “take it all, bunny.” He said, baring his teeth.

You soaked his cock and your thighs, your orgasm washing over you, pulled roughly on his hair as it did, as he left every cell in your body burning for him, and his movements were getting sloppy.

“Good girl,” he hissed, grabbing your hips in a bruising grip, moans growing louder, deeper, as he sped up, before he finally came filling you up with a low groan.

He panted, and rolled off you laying on his back, trying to catch his breath. You shyly pressed into his side, brushing hair from his face, and taking his hand, you pressed kisses into his scarred palm.

He kissed your forehead, and stroked your spine, knowing he was in over his head.

But goddamn he liked you.

[sianagrace]

Bedknobs and Broomsticks and the Beautification of War and Witchcraft: Siana’s Panel Presentation

Robert Stevenson and Ward Kimball’s 1971 fever dream of a musical combines action and animation, war and witchcraft, feminism and effemination, and a classic Disney fantasy touch. Based on the books by English children's author Mary Norton, the story follows Miss Price, the town's "crazy lady", "spinster", and secret witch, as she takes in three young siblings displaced from London during World War II. The four join with scammer/magician Emelius Browne to search for a spell that could “end the war”. Let’s take a closer look!

Narratives and Myths: The Disney-fication of Witchcraft

Stevenson and Kimball Disney-fy witchcraft through Angela Lansbury’s character, Miss Price. Storytellers throughout history often present witches as antagonists or villains: Hansel and Gretel (1812), Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937), and The Sword in the Stone (1963), to name a few. Of course, by 1971, people worldwide could associate “Good Witch” with Glinda (1939), but she was not a catalyst for similarly-natured witches. Miss Price embodies a sense of normalcy and country charm that makes witchcraft seem more like a hobby rather than an all-encompassing characterization of evil. More broadly, Bedknobs and Broomsticks presents magic as realistic, providing the audience with an “anything is possible” mindset.

Depictions of Femininity and Masculinity: Just Feminist Enough

Being a witch simply slots into Miss Price’s identity: she is a single, private, middle-aged woman who lives alone in a large home fairly far from the town center. From our first encounter with her character, we can tell that she does not conform, and has no interest in conforming, to 1940s societal expectations regarding how a woman her age should present herself.

In her article “My Fair Lady: A Voice for Change”, scholar Marcie Ray notes that as America and Western Europe called in second-wave feminism, there came a filmic trend of musicals “[employing] the single girl character to depict the changing nature of (white) female sexuality” (293) as opposed to following a strict love plot. In a later section, “Eliza as the ‘Other’”, Ray discusses the tool of othering the lead female protagonist so she appears to have room for improvement, growth, and assimilation into proper society. Miss Price follows this formula, presenting palatable white femininity and feminism, but ultimately reverting to heterosexual expectations: Mr. Browne, once her anonymous professor of witchcraft, quickly becomes her love interest.

Aligning with the ongoing feminist movement at the time of this film’s production, Mr. Browne’s masculinity, and attached agency, come into question rather than being accepted as fact. His introduction in the film establishes him as a trickster, con artist, and coward. Miss Price turns him into a bunny multiple times, to which he replies “Miss Price, a word about your tactics: if I know I’m being changed into a hawk or a tiger, or something with a bit of flash, but always a fluffy white rabbit? It’s incorrigible!” This power dynamic cements Miss Price, and her playful, modern take on femininity, as the authority and lead throughout the film.

Class and Racial Subtexts: “Portobello Road”

The backdrop of World War II connects all the characters in this film through an environment devoid of abundance, and an expectation of having “less than”. Any hints of wealth or a British upper class can only be seen in what’s left behind during the height of the war rather than through individual characters.

The over ten-minute-long “Portobello Road” musical sequence demonstrates this time of unity through scarcity through color, music, and performance. The street, either through set building or editing, appears gray in itself and tinges everyone walking along the street similarly. This area of London feels communal and bustling while simultaneously being economically disadvantaged. The song, sung by all five of our lead protagonists and by the large ensemble, speaks of riches, fantasy, and possibility: the Portobello Road market is a symbol of hope, even if momentary and unfeasible.

There is little racial or ethnic subtext in this film - past, of course, the significance of WWII and all those groups ostracized, interned, and killed during the time. Portobello Road, however, curiously introduces a densely diverse enclave of London, including spotlight moments of Sikh soldiers, Scottish dancers, and Trini performers. Past their brief musical moments, we do not analyze or revisit these characters. We are, however, shown our five white protagonists interacting with these minority groups in a normalized, meaningful way: dancing, playing, and smiling alongside each other in this utopian street fair. This scene aligns more with the decade of the film’s production (late-60s and early-70s) than it does with the period in which it’s set (1940s). 

Significance to the Audience and Temporality

As briefly mentioned earlier, the character development in Bedknobs and Broomsticks is critical to ensure the comfort of 1970s audiences. Miss Price is just feminist enough, the children as just boisterous enough, Mr. Browne is just crass enough, and everyone is just poor enough. There are many things a contemporary audience can problematize about this film: Miss Price’s reverting to patriarchal expectations of marriage, love, and motherhood; the romanticization of war and, specifically, WWII; Mr. Browne’s sexist remarks about women's memories and professional capabilities. At its core, however, this is still a Disney fantasy with loveable, quirky characters, catchy musical numbers, and an entire additional animated world to fall in love with. There’s a steadfast formula that makes this film enjoyable despite its generational immobility.

Critical Discussion Questions

How do we create lovable characters whose backgrounds are classically/traditionally/stereotypically rooted in horror, antagonism, and/or villainy (ex. witches, con-artists, monsters)?

What generational differences do you see embedded in your film / what changes should/would be made in a remake?

Are love plots actually necessary to the plot of your film or other musicals? What would look different about the trajectory and public reception of the film without a love plot?

@theuncannyprofessoro

[overwatchfics]

(just throwing more ideas at you if you get a random urge to write) kiriko, ashe, sombra and/or dva exhibitionism hcs?

Exhibitionism HCs - Kiriko Ashe D.va

A/N: I feel that Sombra is an incredibly private person so I couldn't really think of anything to write for her.

Ashe:

Exhibitionism is a yes for Ashe

She's the type to make it well known that she owns you.

Will have you eat her out under a desk and be nonchalant about it.

BUT WHEN SHE EATS YOU OUT UNDER THE DESK DEAR LORD THERE'S NAIL MARKS IN THE DESK

A couple members of her gang know whats up when you're sweating profusely, and your fingers are digging into the wood.

She'll put her hat on you to remind visitors to know their place. She does not care (unless it bothers you) where to fuck, because she will do it.

She most likely won't get nude herself, but she'll have you in the bathroom and make sure EVERYONE CAN HEAR YOU

C'mon buttercup, let mommy hear you as she dives her head back between your legs. You're sitting on her oak office desk legs spread for the Deadlocke leader. And boy that power dynamic really does it for you.

Her hands are keeping your thighs spread apart, her wide brim hat tipped to the side on your head.

Ashe's tongue presses before tracing your clit, her fingers tracing your opening before pressing two in. Smirking as she sinks them immediately to the knuckle.

She pulls back to leave bites across your thighs, her scarlet lipstick painting the inside of your thighs red. The makeup smeared on her face is just messed up and scuffed in an unfairly sexy way, her hair ruffled and askew.

Your moans pick up as Ashe curls her fingers up. Ashe has the idea to spin and shove you on your stomach pressing onto the desk. She grabs the mic for the Comms system and puts it up to your lips.

Her fingers press against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars Now darlin' tell the gang who you belong to, and scream it.

D.va

I really feel like D.va would roleplay exhibitionism rather than actually partake in it because of her career and widespread reputation. Or she could just fuck you in a closet.

Hana definitely gets off to the idea of being caught either one of you, but she always initiates something if she knows she can get away with it without actually being caught.

Loves to just torture you seeing the mix of caution and wanton desire in your eyes really gets her going and boy if she could she'd make sure the whole world could hear who you belong to.

She def has recorded you two going at it (Not something she'd ever let public) but she role plays like everyone is seeing either you are getting fucked or her receiving, praising and lightly degrading you between her legs.

But tonight, you're at one of Lucio's dumb parties in a closet, pressed up against a wall. You've got a leather collar and leash on, which is yanked back, and a vibrator is pressed gingerly between your legs.

Your mouth drops open, breath fogging against the wall, your nails taking chips of drywall as you drag them across the plaster. Hana's lips are leaving kisses across your shoulders, a hand on the space between your shoulder blades; leash curled around her hand.

Hana presses the vibrator further between your folds causing you to jolt and moan loudly.

Hana leaves a playful bite on your shoulder before taking her own tie off and gagging you with it.

Hush now bunny, wouldn't want everyone else to hear hm?

Her hand reaffirms its grip before yanking hard, your head falling back as her mouth leaves more comforting kisses across your neck, leaving her head in the crook of your neck.

Hana slides the vibrator to a place that she knows makes you crazy.

You moan and shudder, hands clawing at the wall, body twitching and contorting, muffled moans and light shrieks falling through the fabric of the tie.

That's my girl, behaving like you should when taking it like a good bunny.

Kiriko

She's pretty risky, as long as she's not the one receiving.

She became incorrigible once she realizes she's in the clear.

You know that line that Ramattra says sometimes? like WE WILL FIGHT LIKE CORNERED BEASTS like with Kiriko it's WE WILL FUCK LIKE CORNERED BEASTS

Kiriko mostly does a lot of nature exhibitionism. A hike up to a lake will lead to a skinny dip and later to sex. Sex in the forest under the stars (don' worry she brought a bedroll that time), or if she's feeling extra feral she'll pin you right up against the trunk of a tree and raw you right then and there.

This time you decided to bring her to a drive-in theatre (Yes, they still exist) to watch a mock-buster film (something stupid like Sharknado)

You were in the driver's seat and Kiriko in the passenger. With a small bag of microwaved popcorn on your lap. You failed to notice Kiriko's stare at your thighs peeking from the skirt you wore on your date night.

Soon enough you picked up the feeling of being watched and you turned to see Kiriko staring dead into you, her eyes glowing

uh oh, she's either pissed or horny and most likely horny by the way she was flushed to the tips of her ears.

Back seat. Now.

You barely had time to register what she said before she lifted you by the collar and tossed you to the back seats, her landing on top of you, hands adjusting you to lie comfortably in the backseat before she reached for her pack.

Out of it she pulled her strap set. Harness and everything. You quirk an eyebrow at her and Kiriko's only response was an amused shrug before strapping herself in (I'm so funny lol) and adding some lube.

Kiriko falls on top of you, kissing you aggressively, fangs pressing poking your bottom lip. Her hands work on the buttons on your shirt before pulling your bra with it over your head. Kiriko breaks the kiss to lick and nip at your breasts while her hands hike up your skirt before reaching the waistband of your panties and pulling them down between your ankles.

Kiriko's mouth leaves your breasts to take its place at your pulse point, her fangs tracing lightly. She lines herself up between your legs, hands pulling your legs around her waist. Kiriko bites down and pushes inside, one of her hands intertwined with yours as comfort for you to accommodate her length. Once she bottoms out, she waits before starting slow, breath fogging up the windows on the car.

Your moans turn to choppy grunts as she begins to jackhammer inside you reaching places inside you that make you feel bliss. The car shakes with the power of her thrusts and she brings her lips to your ear licking the outer lobe of it.

That's a good girl taking all of me to the hilt. That's it, don't hide your screams I don't care who hears. Scream my name pretty girl. Scream it.

A/N: AS ALWAYS, I GO OVERBOARD WITH KIRIKOS HOLY FUCK

[girl4music]

WYNONNA: “Out already? Didn't even have time to send flowers.”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “It was just a fancy faint.”

WYNONNA: “Yeah, the cat made a bed in your ass crack.”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “The doctor said I'm fine. I'm as healthy as an ox.”

WYNONNA: “With the cankles to match.”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “Listen. I am just here to tell Officer Haught that despite the day's events, she will not be getting my support.”

WYNONNA: “She saved your life, you incorrigible bitch.”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “Perhaps. But she does not belong here in Purgatory. She is not our... people.”

WYNONNA: “Are you a xenophobe or a homophobe?”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “Why pick just one?”

WYNONNA: “Even though it was against her best interest, Nicole did the right thing. She always does the right thing, no matter what. That's the kind of person who should be Sheriff.”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “I'll keep that in mind.”

WYNONNA: “No. Bunny... shouldn't we talk about what really happened today? What's really got your pearls all twisted?”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “I don't know what you're talking about.”

WYNONNA: “What you saw. Because you saw something, didn't you, Bun Bun?”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “It was just a dream, a terrible dream. Like the one where I'm on the cruise ship with all the shirtless... Portuguese sailors.”

WYNONNA: “Okay, there's a lot to unpack there. But no... you weren't dreaming. See, you think you want to know the things Nedley's been keeping secret. You don't. That monster you saw today, it's just... the tip of the iceberg.”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “Iceberg?”

WYNONNA: “If you don't back Nicole for Sheriff, I am sending that monster and all of his demon friends... to your house.”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “You can't and you won't.”

WYNONNA: “Oh, bless your cold, withered heart. You think you could handle another "fancy faint"? Then Nicole Haught's gonna be the next Sheriff. Okay? Have a lovely day.”

BUNNY LOBLAW: “I need to get to church.”

WYNONNA: “You gotta book yourself that cruise.

*she turns around to see Nicole stood at the doorway*

How long have you been listening?”

NICOLE: “It would've been rude to interrupt.”

WYNONNA: “Naughty Haughty.”

NICOLE: “How's your head? Because... I feel like I can hear space and time. Hair of the dog?”

*opens two bottles of alcohol, hands one to Wynonna*

WYNONNA: “Officer Haught. At work?”

NICOLE: “Well, some rules are made to be broken.”

WYNONNA: “Huh. Maybe you would be a good wife.”

NICOLE: “Ah, thank you. But you're not my type. You cheat at drinking games.

*they laugh and Nicole holds out her bottle*

Truce?”

WYNONNA: “More than a truce. A win.

*they clink bottles*

You know, I used to think you were an outsider too. And that things would get too demony and you would... go and leave my sister with a broken heart.”

NICOLE: “Wynonna, I love her.”

WYNONNA: “Ew.

*smiles*

Also, you better.”

NICOLE: “And I love you, too. I mean, I know it's terribly unfair and sometimes I really get... jealous, because you get to be...”

WYNONNA: “Get to be what?”

NICOLE: “You.”

WYNONNA: “You know, you're staked to this land, same as me. You never had a choice.”

NICOLE: “What do you mean?”

WYNONNA: “It wasn't Black Badge who saved you from the Cult of Bulshar massacre, Nicole. It was an idealistic local cop.”

*pulls out a photograph of a younger Sheriff Nedley with his arm around a young girl - Nicole as a child*

I’ve said it before. While I really do not like that they had to blackmail Bunny to back Nicole for Sheriff when Bunny shouldn’t even be a part of what they do because she’s a discriminative asshole, I understand that it’s in character for Wynonna to do that for someone she cares about and will defend. So the sentiment of the latter outweighs the former. She could have just let Bunny make the remarks she did and sent her on her way, letting her believe whatever she wanted. But no, she layed into her because she knew that Nicole deserves to be Sheriff next election. And the fact Nicole was stood there watching the whole exchange and never made a move to intervene shows how much she appreciates the support from Wynonna even if that support was a threat towards Bunny and could land them in even more trouble.

It matters. It’s not something I would think of to do myself, but it matters because it’s Wynonna and Wynonna always does the crazy thing for love. Nicole understands that and knows this is just Wynonna’s way of helping her. So she doesn’t stop her and instead just lets her potentially create more chaos.

They’ll cross that bridge when they come to it.

If it comes to it.

Then there’s the other part to this conversation where they sit and drink and relate to each other, and Wynonna reveals that while she is cursed to stay in Purgatory to fight Wyatt’s revenant demons, Nicole also had no real choice about who she would end up becoming in Purgatory either. Meaning it’s not just because she’s dating Waverly why she’s in the show. And I really love that they included that because it simultaneously gives Nicole purpose as her own character within her own individual arc and gives her representation and development beyond just being a love interest but also tells us that she always was - is - meant to be with Waverly and as part of the team because she has ties to the supernatural life too that she can’t just leave behind because she’s “abnormal”.

Combined with the former scene and conversation - this is the creator and cast/crew basically telling us that being “abnormal” or an “outsider” isn’t something we ever choose to be. It chooses us. The only thing we choose is to accept and embrace it…

Or not.

Maybe it’s just me reading into the narratives and themes a bit more than I should with this episode but I think it’s clever that the writers combined a narrative about being unlucky and having to work through the hardships of that with someone else we don’t always have common ground with and a narrative about acceptance and support from that someone when we’re being discriminated against for being too “different” to belong in a place we had no real choice to be part of the social community of in the first place.

We get the hand that we are dealt and we deal with it because that’s the only thing we really can do to survive somewhere non-inclusive. And if we happen to find people within that social community that are just as much of an “outsider” as we are even if they were born and bred in it then we are lucky and we are worthy and we do deserve to be treated with respect no matter how “not our people” we are perceived as.

And this is how I interpret this episode and these couple of scenes. It might not be the intention. I could be entirely wrong about what the writer intends it to represent. But I’ve never been one for canon anyway.

I’ve always made up my own lore and narrative when watching TV art/entertainment and I really miss show creators that accepted and encouraged this and gave you enough room to interpret any of it any which way you want and choose so that it could be so much more meaningful to you each time you engaged with it. I didn’t think TV shows like this existed anymore. But I’ve been pleasantly and gratefully surprised with ‘Wynonna Earp’ and other stuff I’ve recently watched.

I hope that streak continues when I watch Arcane. Shows that put the storytelling first have my heart even if I might be entirely wrong what story that is. It doesn’t really matter because I don’t deal in canon. I never have and I never will. That’s how I watch shows.

Art is and should be in the eye of the beholder always.

[fuckyeahfightlock]

Been falling asleep for months to the BBC Radio adaptations of EW Hornung's Raffles stories, starring Jeremy Clyde and Michael Cochrane. Thirty minute, full-cast adaptations with gay subtext nearer the surface than even in the television show, and if you buy them on Audible, the collection includes The Return of AJ Raffles by Graham Greene, a 1975 stage play which is SO gay Bunny's BFF is literally Lord Alfred "Bosie" Douglas (lover of Oscar Wilde), and at one point Bunny tells him "Raffles never looked twice at a woman!" (when Bosie asks him "did Raffles bowl as well as bat?")

Clyde's voice is actually very similar to Anthony Valentine's; Michael Cochrane's is a bit younger-sounding that Christopher Strauli's.

My favourite moment in this whole 9 hours of content is Bunny saying, out loud, in earnest, "Oh, Raffles--you're incorrigible!"

12/10 do recommend.

(Jeremy Clyde)

[agentstovring]

💙Smoshblr December Asks Day 6💛

Which 3 fictional characters (can be any medium: film, books, videogames, etc.) do you relate to the most?

Unlike the other questions we've had so far, this one I didn't have to think about much, for better or worse 😂

Dylan Sanders from Charlie's Angels (2000) - A little messy but resourceful enough that I still get shit done. A little flaky but always there for my friends. Flighty. Suspicious of authorities. Terrible taste in men.

Babs Bunny from Tiny Toons - Extrovert to a fault; good at doing impressions; easily distracted; will always go the extra mile to get a laugh.

Sutton Brady from The Bold Type - Textbook people person; good at convincing others; incorrigible flirter; a tendency to be overdramatic; endlessly loyal to my loved ones.

Thank you for asking!

[14carrotghoul]

WIP Game Answer

Hiiiiii @raysletters thank you very much for asking!!

So I know I started a series after dejame ver como es que floreces buuuut this wip is more like the actual sequel. It's set 10 yrs in the future from the first one, june centric, and focuses mostly on parenthood and change! I'm a little stuck in the middle portion but I loooove writing this one!!

And here's a snippet!

A decade of muscle memory leads their hands to the right spots. Alex leans into Henry and lets him lead now that he's more familiar with Latin genres of music. They dance. The song is not something Alex would have ever chosen or pegged as romantic, but they make do - an oldie but a goodie. Like the overachiever he is, Henry sings the chorus under his breath in lightly-accented Spanish; Alex quietly groans into Henry's clavicle. "You can't do that to me, H. Not at my dad's house." "Incorrigible," he chastises into gray-flecked curls. "Don't play innocent; you were a fucking animal when I was in the heart of my Bad Bunny phase."

Henry smirks and doesn't deny it. "Forgive me for thinking that a song about a man and his mermaid progeny was innocent enough to keep your lust at bay." "Baby, you really underestimate how pretty you sound when you speak Spanish." "I learned from the best." Henry leans down for a peck then lingers there, still moving them in time to the bright tune.

[jkrockin]

for the ask game:

🎨 🔍 💡 🧪 🚀 ✍️

also for extra bonus points, if you feel so inclined, i’d love to know🚦 (especially for canon era aus and canon-divergence scenarios, i’m wildly curious!)

Fic writer ask meme! LET’S GEAUX

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

Fanart is always such a wild compliment, I’d feel pretty dickish asking for something specific unless I was actively commissioning someone! I’d love fanart of literally anything I’ve written, but probably especially my Terror fic, since, y’know, I feel like there’s nearly enough Steddie fanart out there to be getting on with.

🔍 Does anyone beta read or edit your fics?

Me, babey!! Every so often I think I should really try to get a beta, but I’m such a control freak and so picky about words— not to mention, I’m such a slow writer— that letting anyone else interfere with my stuff makes me anxious, so I figure I’d be a nightmare to beta for.

💡 How many WIPs do you currently have?

It’s actually not too dire right now! I maintain a spreadsheet to track my WIPs, which saves me much pain and heartache; I have ten things on my Terror tab, eight on my Stranger Things tab, two on Miscellaneous, and, of course, the “abandoned :)” tab, which currently has thirty-eight things on it, some of which were basically just bunnies that never went anywhere, some of which had actual words on. tl;dr twenty things in any kind of progress that I intend to try to finish someday.

🧪 Do you research for your fics?

It depends, but usually yes. Writing in time periods and places that are not familiar to me leads to lots of heavy use of Etymonline to work out when words were first used, a certain amount of time googling “history of sexual lubrication”, and sundry other research to check what I’m writing is chronologically and locally accurate to the best of my ability.

🚀 Do you like to outline your fic first or create as you go?

What I like best is when a whole idea just drops into my head fully-formed and I have the time and the means to write it down before I lose it. Not always what happens, but so nice when it does. I usually try to hash out a quick outline to work from, to help guide my hand a bit, but sometimes I do just rawdog it.

✍️ What’s your ideal writing setup?

At my desk in my comfortable supportive chair, mechanical keyboard (I favour brown switch), big cup of hot black tea with milk, moderate light, ambient electronica playlist, cat asleep on my bed.

🚦What sort of endings do you prefer to write: ambiguous, bad, happily ever after, etc.? (especially for canon era aus and canon-divergence scenarios, i’m wildly curious!)

I’m an incorrigible happy ever after bitch. I’ve dipped my toes into ambiguity but I just don’t have the stomach for sad. Someday I really should try to do a bad ending, just for the craft.

[theimaginatrix27]

My bunnies did it again

I have had this fanfic idea stuck firmly in my brain for the last week and I think it’s time I made a Tumblr post about it. It’s a crazy fun idea and I only have one Voyager friend. I would like to have more than one Voyager friend.

But also I need to make a Tumblr post about this because I feel like it’d make a good one.

The idea hit me while I was listening to Spotify. It started with me thinking about this vague idea of Voyager, but fantasy with magic ‘n’ stuff, and then I was suddenly struck with ... well. Time to break out the list. My one Voyager friend helped me hash this out, so I’d like to give credit where it’s due. Thanks for the help thus far,     @gwen-skyes!

So this is post-series. Everyone’s legal stuff has been cleared up because I am a happy optimist and think it would be sorted out fairly quickly given they survived for seven years in the Hellta Quadrant.

Harry got his promotion! So did Janeway, but that was expected.

Anyways, Tom is bored.

I think anyone who’s watched more than a handful of episodes of Voyager knows this does not bode well.

So one night he’s scouring archives of human knowledge for something to do, and discovers DND.

Let’s pretend there probably weren’t any current editions of the game and he picked the 5E rules just because.

He knows he can’t play this on his own and he’s been missing having his friends around constantly, so after he’s convinced B’Elanna the game has potential, he invites the others over.

He does not tell them he is inviting them over to play a 21st-Century tabletop role-playing game.

Until the day their schedules have dictated will suit for them all to assemble.

Then he’s like “Check out this cool game I found! We can tell a story together—won’t that be fun? Anyways, here’s the rules, please take this time to design your characters.”

Any somewhat formal language is totally over-dramatic, but he does ask that they take this seriously.

Everyone’s actually pretty interested, though they express it differently.

Janeway and Chakotay help each other with backstories and stuff. Janeway settles on a Human Fighter, while Chakotay’s a Half-Elf Ranger with a falcon companion (Hey, that is a fucking hot image and you can’t tell me otherwise).

B’Elanna put together her character earlier and she’s a Half-Orc Barbarian (she basically called dibs).

Seven spends so much time trying to optimise her stats and her backstory is basically her history with a few tweaks. I won’t get into the back and forth here but Tom does entreat her to get more creative if she can.

The Doctor and Harry both pick Paladin and then just diverge from there. The Doctor’s character is human, Harry’s is Dragonborn. Both are Lawful Good but Harry is particularly intent on being as awesome as possible.

Tuvok surprises everyone except possibly Janeway by announcing late into the character-building session that he has observed they do not have a dedicated magic-user in their party yet and this is “an oversight that cannot go unaddressed, or disaster is inevitable.” He then declares his character an Elven Wizard.

Tom asks if he picked an Elf for the ears. Tuvok gives him a look and points out it’s the most logical choice to pair with a magical Class. It actually was the ears but he only admits it to Janeway at the end of the fic.

While everyone is taking things seriously as Tom asked, Tom himself does the 24th-century equivalent of using a random-number-generator to slap together a character, mostly for fun. He is, after all, planning to be the DM.

I know what you’re thinking. “When’s this gonna get really interesting, Trix? It sounds rather boring so far.”

Hahahahahahahaha.

They’re just getting ready to start playing. Miral is asleep upstairs. All seems well.

And then Q shows up.

He is bored.

This also is never something that bodes well.

And he sees this game as an irresistible opportunity for some good chaotic fun.

So he creates an alternate reality bubble and sends everyone into it, to play the Campaign from the inside. As their characters.

That half-joking character Tom made on the fly? It’s a Halfling Bard And he’s had his DM position usurped by Q, so now he’s stuck in a Fantasy-laced reality and is half the size of any one of his friends. And has lovely fluffy hair!

Also Harry got genderbent ‘cause Q was being a troll both before and after it was cool.

And that’s the jist of it. There’s more stuff a little further in but this is the basic premise. And my brain won’t let it go, so ... Yay? I guess? I’m not much for writing Sci-fi but this leans right into Fantasy territory, which is my strong point. I hope I am able to do it justice. Provided I can get it off the ground, that is.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

more rockstar!seb!!!

honeymoon | rockstar! s. stan

pairing: rockstar!sebastian stan x writer!reader

It was no secret for anyone that Y/N was a methodical person, a person who above else liked a structured, well organised plan before going anywhere. Her husband, on the other hand, was a spur of a moment sort of person, he enjoyed doing things out of a hat, without thinking much about it and that was the main reason why she was very anxious while on the plane to her honeymoon destination. The two had agreed both had a say in everything from the wedding to the honeymoon itself; he’d even let her pick the country for them to holiday in with the condition he got to pick the city. 

Sebastian was clearly enjoying seeing how panicky his wife was and had even put noise cancelling headphones on her so she wouldn’t hear where they were gonna land. He wanted it to be a surprise but she didn’t particularly enjoy surprises. He would shake it off, telling her to calm down and that she was gonna enjoy herself.

    - Why won’t you tell me where we are? - she rolled her eyes as she awaited for her bags to arrive. 

    - Bunny, would I ruin our honeymoon on purpose?

    - Darling, you’re a rockstar with a very dubious past. I do not know what corner of Italy you’ve brought me to. - she turned to him, putting her hands on his shoulders and flushing her body against his. - Tell me. 

    - While I do enjoy having your tits press against my chest, your charms will not make me tell you until we’re outside. - he grabbed their bags from the conveyer belt, placing them on their trolley. 

    - You suck.  

    - Last time I checked, bunny ... - he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her to his side. - You were to one who sucked. 

She rolled her eyes once more, kicking him to the side with her hips to hold the trolley carrying their baggage. She didn’t know how to pack for it, when she asked Mary if she knew anything she just told her to pack lingerie she wouldn’t be angry with it being ripped which was of no help. Instead, she just packed for all the possible weathers in Italy which made her suitcase look like it was about to go overboard. Meanwhile, his suitcase was so small she wondered if he planned on ever changing clothes; yet based on his aversion towards wearing shirts, it may be a plausible theory. 

The two walked towards a man with a sign with Mr. and Mrs. Stan written on it before being led to a very nice limousine. Sure, she should’ve have expected Sebastian to want to make the honeymoon as opulent as he could, but she didn’t expect it straight outside the airport.

   - And don’t you dare ask the driver. - he said as he took his seat next to her.

   - Isn’t me being pregnant surprising enough?

   - Bunny, we have sex all the time. I’m surprised it wasn’t sooner. 

   - I hate you. - she crossed her arms as the driver began driving. Sebastian giggled, leaning to kiss her shoulder and up her neck. - Stop.

   - I married such an impatient woman. 

   - Right, Sebastian ... - she turned towards him. - You know I love you.

   - I know where this is going.

   - Promise me this isn’t some la vie bohéme location. I just wanna go see castles and go to vineyards, I don’t wanna go to a strip bar. 

   - Bunny ... - he faked being hurt. - I would never do that. Strip bars are expensive, I have you to strip for me. 

   - You are incorrigible. 

He smiled to himself, leaning down to kiss her before telling himself how lucky he was for having her as his wife. He wanted to trip to be perfect, he had even gone to a travel agency and asked for those ridiculously cringy romantic couples packages. He also knew the best way for her enjoy it was to known nothing at all. She liked planning and he wanted her to enjoy herself. 

The limousine came to a stop and the valet came to collect the baggage. As soon as the door was open, she was out the car yet there were no signs telling her where she was. She turned around to see a big hotel before turning back to her husband who had his sunglasses on. 

   - Will you tell me where we are now?

   - We are in Verona. - he placed his hands on her waist. 

   - Verona? - she smiled dopily. - As in Romeo and Juliet? Sebastian Stan, you are a hopeless romantic. 

   - Don’t say it.

   - You picked the town mentioned in one of the most romantic plays of all time.

   - I did not, I flipped a coin.

   - Sure. - she kissed him. - This is fantastic. I love you.

   - I love you too, bunny.

[sweetdreamsbuck]

This reminded me of Lumby😭!

omg that absolutely is 😭 he needs a million kisses and won't rest until he gets them.

𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

he's mostly kidding... he doesn't take your love for granted one bit– but he likes the way you suffocate him with attention when he pulls at that little nonexistent thread. it doesn't stop sweet little whines and groans from slipping past his pout– and he likes listening to those giggles of yours too much to act any other way, craving the moment you give in to his puppy eyes and smooch his face silly. he knows just how to get what he wants, and who are you to get mad at your incorrigible baby for knowing just how to play you?

"i wish some-bunny loved me..." he sighs, eyes closed in furrowed sorrow. he huffs when you ignore him, pushing his head against your shoulder as you continue to read your book.

"if only someone wanted to pay attention to me." Bucky feels the weight of your eye roll without seeing it, a smirk tugging at his lips knowing it'll only take a little more to get you just where he wants you.

"hm, yeah. somebody would be lucky, i'm sure," you comment, ignoring his attempt at getting you to crack. his head jumps up, frustration launching his gigantic frame across your thighs.

"i need my kisses bun, don't keep those lips from me. it's a crime, a terrible act to commit against someone."

"oh a crime, bucky?" you smirk. so fucking dramatic.

"they lock people up for far less. don't put it past me... now come love me before I cause a scene."

"bucky, it's just you and me. i'm the only one who'd see you act like a–"

"a damn scene, bunny. don't make me do it. you know how i get when i act up."

[blackjacktheboss]

mob au • happy easter 

Annabeth watches as the Annual Olympic Harbor Easter Egg Roll begins, and kids of all ages wearing their best pastel outfits frantically try and scoot their colored eggs down their grass-covered lanes. The mayor stands nearby, also watching the festivities take place, though he nervously glances in her direction every few minutes which puts a smile on her face. In the distance, she can make out the tall shapes of her security staff scattered through the throngs of people present for the public event and a feeling of pride swells in her chest. The sound of someone clearing their throat draws Annabeth’s attention, and she turns to her right to find her boyfriend with his camera pointed right at her.

Click.

“What did I tell you about taking candids?” she says, though there is less than no bite to her words.

Percy laughs and draws himself closer, lowering his voice so that only she can hear him. “I was hoping last night’s photo policy would extend to today.”

Annabeth can feel the blush that heats up her cheeks as she bites the inside of her bottom lip and tries not to smile. “You are incorrigible, you know that?”

Percy’s smug smile disappears for a moment as he leans in, placing a quick kiss to her lips. “I’ve heard that once or twice.”

Annabeth shakes her head as the smile she was battling begins to win the war. “I thought you were taking pictures of the boat parade later.”

“I am,” Percy answers as he turns to take a few snapshots of the crowd. “But I wanted to warm up a bit. Plus how could I miss the chance to see Annabeth Chase in pastels?”

Annabeth glances down at her light blue and white striped dress that rests just above her knees, and simple white tennis shoes. “It’s important to look approachable every now and then.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm,” she confirms with a nod. “One of my mom’s most important rules. People have to know that I am not to be messed with, while also believing me to be just a normal local woman.”

“Interesting,” Percy says. “May I ask a follow-up question?”

“Always.”

Again, Percy invades her space, and again, she does not mind one bit. “Does this approachable image involve sitting on the Easter bunny’s lap? Because that is something I definitely have to get a picture of.”

Annabeth steps just a little bit closer and loops her arms around his neck. “If I’m going to be sitting on anyone’s lap today, it’s gonna be yours.”

Percy’s cheeks are flooded with color this time, and he wraps his free hand around Annabeth’s waist more tightly, like he can’t possibly get her close enough. “Ms. Chase, are you trying to seduce me at an Easter Egg Roll?”

“Oh, I’m not trying, Mr. Jackson,” she says, her voice breathy. “I’m succeeding.”

“I think Easter just became my favorite holiday.”

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 5 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: For the Love of My Husband

Summary: Bilbo is a thief and a conman who has tricked Thorin, Crown Prince of Erebor, to marry him as an escape from a tight spot. He thought their marriage was happily enough, but Thorin feels a disconnect from the hobbit he’s married. To appease his family and strengthen their bond, Thorin asks Bilbo to take the Trial of Souls with him. Problem is, Bilbo doesn’t want Thorin to know anything about him because they are most assuredly not Ones. And if Thorin learns the truth, Bilbo will find himself back in the streets or worse...

In a darkened pub deep under the kingdom of Erebor, a hobbit and a dwarf squared off. The waiting crowd was near silent as they waited to see what would happen next. The dark haired beast of a dwarf looked fairly confident as he shared a smirk with his two friends directly behind him.

“What’ll it be, Took? Fold or settle?”

The hobbit nonchalantly lifted his overturn cup to sneak a peek at the two dice lying inside. 

“How about I raise you instead?”

It was silent for a moment before the dwarf, Drulik, burst into laughter followed by his cronies.

“Raise? You have nothing left to bet with.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that.” Bilbo stated before pulling out a silver harp-shaped brooch with thin golden strings.

The dwarves surrounding the gamblers all began murmuring at once, some trying to lean in for a closer view.

“Is that…?” One of Drulik’s dwarves gaped.

“Yes.” Bilbo announced calmly. “The Courting Gift of our dearly departed queen, Mahal rest her soul.”

“How did you get that?” Drulik demanded.

Bilbo gave him a wane smile as he tucked back into his vest with a pat. “It doesn’t matter. The question you should be asking is how much do you think it’s worth?”

The gambling den awaited Drulik’s long drawn out answer. It almost made the hobbit want to roll his eyes at the melodrama. However, after years on the streets, he knew a good show could sometimes be the difference between success and failure. And Bilbo didn’t fail. Finally, Drulik pulled out another bag, spilling the golden coins onto the pile between them.

“Settle.” Drulik demanded before revealing the contents under his cup.

The crowd cheered and whistled much to Drulik’s ego at the combined total of eleven from his dice. Nine Rings was a gambling game loved by Durin’s Folk and Men alike with a very simple premise. Highest total won. So you bet and bluff to convince your opponent that you have as close to twelve beneath the cup as possible. However, there was one small exception. Nine always trumped any other number. Therefore, when Bilbo lifted his cup to reveal the five and four, there was a near frenzy of excitement. Drulik was rendered speechless as Bilbo lifted his pint in cheer before downing the ale all in one go. Producing a sack from his coat pocket, he raked all the golden coins towards him.

“Well lads, this has been more excitement than any hobbit can take, but I think I’m going to leave now while my fortunes are in my favor.”

“You cheated.” Drulik growled. “You had to have.”

“Check my dice if you wish.” Bilbo offered with a shrug.

The tavern owner, Nifror, who ran as honorable a den as one could for thieves and ruffians was at their table in a flash. Bilbo had heard a tale that the last dwarf who cheated at the game got their loaded dice pinned, one to each hand, with a knife made by Nifror’s wife. He threw the dice a few times and each time they landed with a different number. He shrugged.

“The hobbit’s clean.”

“But that’s impossible.” One of Drulik’s own gaped.

“Yeah, we loaded them ourselves!” The other snarled.

There was a pause and then Old Nifror was on them in a flash. Some moved to help the old barkeep out. The rest roared and placed bets on the winner. Meanwhile, Bilbo used this as the perfect opportunity to sneak away. He dropped the loaded dice he had smuggled into his pocket on the ground with a snort. Like he would be that stupid. Now most would have worried walking around with that much gold around the dregs of Erebor’s underworld. Fortunately, Bilbo was a professional at remaining quiet and unseen. A talent he had been forced to pick up early in his life. Which is why he nearly screamed when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Make a good haul?” The dwarf smirked.

Bilbo turned around with a glare. “You know you don’t have to be so smug every time you manage to catch me off guard.”

Nori, Bilbo’s oldest and dearest friend, just raised an eyebrow as he tried and failed to hide the mischievous superiority oozing from his every pore.

“Just like to remind you, you’re not the best just yet.”

Bilbo rolled his eyes as he continued on his way knowing the dwarf was following.

“We both know I was headed to your place eventually so is there a reason you’re bugging me now?”

“Can I not worry over the sake of my friend?” Nori gasped overdramatically.

Bilbo snorted but made no arguments or agreements.

“Well, if I were coming to find you, it might have something to do with the fact that your husband finished up his duties early today to surprise you.”

The coin he was holding nearly slipped from his suddenly numb fingers.

“Valar above!” Bilbo swore. “That dwarf. He’s positively incorrigible!”

“He’s in love.” Nori pointed out.

Bilbo scoffed. “Love. Well shit, looks like you’re going to have to take this to our hiding place for me.”

Bilbo shoved the bag of gold into the dwarf’s chest before power walking towards the secret tunnels. Nori kept stride with him, clearly not done delivering bad news.

“Are you anywhere close to the right amount?”

“I’ve nearly two-thirds at this point.”

“Bilbo, you only have a week left.”

“I’m well aware, Nori! Maybe it's enough to...buy me more time.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t the whole point of you marrying some rich noble supposed to give you easy access to the treasury?”

“It was, but there was one teeny detail we didn’t take into account.”

“What’s that?”

Bilbo paused, his face falling into a grimace. “In-laws.”

***

One of the first things Bilbo and Nori did upon their rushed and unplanned move to Erebor from Ered Luin was scope out the best places for a quick getaway. They just so happened to make kind with a chatty miner named Bofur who, while deep in his cup, told them that the royal wing originally was meant to be on the other side of the mountain. When the architects realized the disadvantage of having the royal family so far from the guards’ posts and war meeting rooms, rather than just move the furniture back down only to go back up on the correct side, they cut unmapped tunnels around the outside of the mountain. It also had the added advantage of getting their monarchy out quicker in the case of a coup if the knowledge hadn’t been lost through time. It was perfect for the thieves’ needs. In almost no time at all, Nori and Bilbo had found the tunnels and utilized them fully. 

Something the hobbit was thankful for now as he flew down the tunnel to get back to his room. He welcomed the blast of mountain wind to rapidly cool the sweat on his face before ducking back into the opposite entrance. There was a small alcove where Bilbo’s fancier clothes lay and he all but threw himself out of his worn threads for the finer silks and cotton. The last thing he did was pocket the brooch before sprinting back down the tunnel braiding and beading his hair on the run. Once he was back in the royals’ wing, he ducked his head out to make sure the coast was clear, and then silently made his way to his suite. After closing the door behind him, Bilbo relaxed against it, heaving a sigh of relief.

“And just where have you been, Husband of Mine?”

Bilbo prided himself on the fact that he did not squeak even if he did jump nearly two feet in the air. Thorin, Prince of Erebor, was lounging in the armchair by the fireplace looking rather pleased with himself. Bilbo attempted to calm his racing heart as he stepped forward, plastering what he hoped to be a loving grin on his face.

“Just a walk on the cliffs with Nori. Surely, you would not deny this hobbit the feel of fresh air and sunshine?”

Thorin stood at that point, meeting him about halfway. His thumb gently caressed Bilbo’s cheek.

“If I had it my way, I would deny you nothing, ukradê (my greatest heart).”

Bilbo hummed in practiced delight as he met his husband’s lips with his own. The hobbit was at least content with the knowledge that as far as dwarves went, Thorin was stunningly handsome. Not a sentiment necessarily shared with others of his race. Which worked out just fine for Bilbo as it left a prince of all things, uncommitted and available.

��By the way, look what I found this morning.” Bilbo stepped back with a teasing smile as he produced the brooch from his pocket.

“My mother’s brooch!” Thorin gaped as he took it reverently. “Where…?”

“It was under my bed. You must have dropped it when you paid me a surprise visit last night.”

Thorin smirked as he latched onto Bilbo’s hips. “I remember the night well.”

Oh, and he was a really, really good bed partner. No, Bilbo was well aware he could have it much worse. It was just the dwarf’s nauseating romanticism that nearly caused him to roll his eyes more than once. Thorin gave him a long lingering kiss before he bent forward to press his forehead against Bilbo’s own. Their hands found their way into each other’s naturally interlocking.

“I promise, it won’t always be like this.” Thorin murmured when he finally pulled away, his blue eyes shining brightly.

Like this. The dwarf was so dramatic. It constantly made Bilbo feel like some player performing for the court. Heaving a sigh as he looked down between their conjoined hands. 

“We’ve been married for eight months, and two of those have been spent here in Erebor. If your family was going to accept me, they would have done so by now.”

Thorin released his hands so he could lift Bilbo’s chin to look at him.

“Don’t lose faith yet, amrâlimê (my love). I have a plan.”

It was a good thing Bilbo was a talented actor. He laughed, causing Thorin to smile.

“You have a plan? That sounds dangerous.”

“Tease all you want, but I have all the confidence in this plan.”

“Well, out with it. What have you come up with?”

Thorin shook his head teasingly. “You’ll have to wait. I want it to be a surprise.”

Bilbo linked his arms around the dwarf’s neck for leverage as he started showering him with kisses at his jaw, the corner of his mouth, and his throat.

“And I couldn’t persuade you to tell me any sooner?”

“You are cruel, thundanûd (tiny embrace).” Thorin moaned, his hands resting on Bilbo’s arms.

“It’s only cruel if you don’t accept the invitation.” Bilbo teased back as he pulled at the prince’s tunic to allow him access to his collarbone.

Thorin shuddered once with want before finding the strength to pull away. He grasped Bilbo’s hands again as he kissed him deeply as an apology.

“Later. There will be time later. But now...we are having dinner with my family.”

Bilbo’s building fire of lust was immediately doused, a small frown settled on his forehead that Thorin attempted to kiss away. Lovely, the in-laws.

It certainly wasn’t that Bilbo wanted them to like him. He could honestly care less. It was just their dislike of him that made it really difficult for him to do...well, much of anything. Thrain, still mourning the loss of his dead wife, remained suspicious and hardened against Bilbo for the sheer fact that he was a hobbit. Their marriage had yet to be announced to the Council or even the mountain in general. Keeping Bilbo out of the public eye was Thrain’s number one priority which was certainly no hardship. It was Frerin and Dis he had the biggest problems with. Thorin’s brother and sister, ever loyal to him, seemed to think Bilbo wasn’t good enough for the dwarf, and constantly had Balin, the royal advisor, keeping tabs on him. Bilbo was reluctant to admit the dwarf’s keen eyes and sharp wit, but it had taken quite a few of Bilbo’s best moves to lose his tails before entering the secret tunnels.

Therefore, coming together in the Royal Dining Room for “family dinners” was a...stilted affair. There were only two redeeming features to those evenings. One, it was always the best food Bilbo had ever eaten in his life. And two, Thorin’s nephews, Fili and Kili, were not the least bit bothered by him and had some story worth telling that took the edge of him for a little bit at least.

“And then the axe sailed through the air and straight into the boar’s head. So technically, technically we aren’t responsible for the mess in the trophy room.” Kili finished.

“No.” Vili, their father snorted. “Just responsible for startling the poor guard that set off the chain of events.”

“Well how were we supposed to know he was right there?” Fili defended.

Bilbo snorted in spite of himself. “Watch the shadows.”

He immediately tensed after he said it as he waited for the barrage of insults to be hurtled his way.

“Spoken like a true thief.” Dis sneered.

Yep, right on cue.

“I would appreciate it if you didn’t corrupt my sons.” She continued.

“Namad…” Thorin warned softly.

Thrain’s hand met the tabletop in a harsh bang. “What have I said about speaking our language in front of the Halfling?!”

Bilbo sighed and turned his attention to his soup as the line of Durin flexed their tempers. Thorin rising to his defense, Dis and Thrain attempting to argue their points louder, Frerin leaving snide quips here and there, and Vili trying and failing to keep the peace. The joy of family dinners.

“Actually, while we’re on this subject, I have something to say.” Thorin demanded, his voice low and regal. “I will be gone the remainder of the week.”

Everyone, including Bilbo, froze and stared up at Thorin in relative confusion and outrage. The prince’s eyes were boring holes straight into his father whose scowl would be enough to frighten wargs off at this point.

“And just where will you be?” The king finally spat.

Thorin reached down for Bilbo’s hand making the hobbit supremely discomforted. Thorin’s eyes were soft and pleading though as they met his.

“We will be taking the Trial of Souls.”

“We’ll be doing what now?” Bilbo questioned.

“Thorin…” Dis murmured at a surprisingly subdued volume, her eyebrows knitted together.

“Finally! A sensible idea!” Frerin declared. 

All eyes rested on the brunette as he raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you think? I mean, to put it bluntly, everyone at this table has been trying to convince Thorin out of this marriage in some way. When they don’t emerge from the tunnels together, that would be a pretty good indicator of the truth.”

“We haven’t. We like Bilbo.” Kili reminded softly.

Bilbo shot the troublemakers a quick smile of thanks. They were idiots, but they were sweet. Meanwhile, Thrain was rubbing his beard in thought before nodding once.

“Yes, this will do well. In fact, if you make it through all five chambers, I’ll hold a feast in honor and publically accept your union.”

Thorin nodded, still looking rather cross with his father. “As I’d hoped.”

Bilbo found he couldn’t take it anymore. “Now, wait! Wait just a minute! What is this...Trial of Souls?”

Thorin stared at his father for permission, and the king granted it almost the picture of satisfaction. Being a gambler, it made Bilbo largely nervous as Thorin turned back towards him.

“It’s a series of tests to prove two dwarves...or in our case, a dwarf and a hobbit, are Ones.”

Bilbo’s mouth opened and shut a couple of times, but no words were able to come out.

“Problem, Halfling?” Dis questioned with mock innocence.

“Thorin, a moment if you please.” Bilbo was finally able to say as he pulled his stone-headed husband out into the hall.

“Are you serious?!” He finally rounded on him.

“What?” Thorin questioned.

“Thorin, I…” Bilbo fought for the right words without making this worse. “I don’t understand. What exactly do we have to prove? We’re married. Shouldn’t that be enough?!”

Thorin sighed. “It should. You are correct, ibinê (my gem). But don’t you see? It’s perfect! My family will be satisfied by our success at the Trials, and it’ll be irrefutable evidence to the rest of the mountain if any rose to challenge us. And politics aside, I want this for us.”

“Us?” Bilbo repeated too numb to be completely in control of his mouth.

“Yes!” Thorin nodded eagerly. “Couples that pass the Trials of Souls find they become closer than ever. Our...relationship hasn’t been for very long, and I respect that your past is painful to you, but I want to know you azyungel (love of loves). I want to know everything there is to know about my husband, and share myself in return. What do you say?”

Now being a hardened thief, the hobbit knew a thing or two about how to get out of a seemingly hopeless situation. However, as his mind swirled and swirled around the damnable logic of Thorin’s decision, he found himself becoming dizzy and nauseated. That was it then. Bilbo was doomed. He had just enough time to get out a soft ‘nope’ before he fell over in a dead faint.

[gigglinggoblin]

Puppy Love P.1

Image used with permission from the lovely Princess Maple. Go check out her gorgeous collection on her Twitter and (FREE) Onlyfans!

[pov: transgirl, nsfw, hypnosis, fantasy nonconsent (moderate), love spell, breast hypnosis, praise, sweetness, heart eyes, perfume/pheromones, light addiction references, praise torture for low self-esteem sub, femdom/femsub, gentle domme, pet play, puppy play,  loving degradation, collaring, leash, begging, obedience training, some lap grinding, some cock allusions]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The gorgeous stranger giggled. She stretched, and as she did so, the shirt she was wearing seemed to dip down a bit. Bluebonnet’s objections died in her throat as she caught a glimpse of pale skin. “You seem... confused,” the brunette said sweetly.

Bluebonnet whimpered. She didn’t know what to say.

“Are you trying to say,” the stranger’s voice came out as soft and delicate as spun sugar, her head tilting to the side, “that you’re not pretty?”

“Mm.” Bluebonnet shook her head desperately. She watched the shirt dip a little lower, and her heart started to race like a panicking bunny as pale softness face way to rosy pink the exact same hue as the stranger’s eyes—and just as full of pretty dancing hearts. She breathed in, and again her world was washed in sweet pink honey, her mind swimming in saccharine delight.

“That wasn’t an answer, sweetie.” The stranger giggled again. Gods, that musical laugh again... “Speak up, pet. Vaela’s waiting~”

“I... um...” Bluebonnet stared dumbly at Vaela’s chest, her lips parting almost unwillingly. “I’m... your pastry is ready, M-Miss.” The baker meekly offered the blueberry pastry, clumsily wrapped in brown paper, and brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes. Her cheeks felt positively molten with embarrassment.

“Oh, yes!” Another giggle. “I don’t want that anymore.” Out of the corner of her eye, Bluebonnet saw those plump, pouty lips curve upwards in a sly smile. “I’ve found something much sweeter in this cute little bakery of yours.”

Bluebonnet gulped. She watched Vaela’s breasts jiggling softly with those girlish little giggles. Her brain wasn’t quite able to understand just... just how the shirt had fallen so low.

But those tits looked... so... pretty...

“Eyes on me, pet.”

Bluebonnet’s eyes snapped up to meet Vaela’s. Her heart fluttered and leaped as she realized what she’d just done, and she felt the heat rushing down to her neck.

Her face surely almost matched those eyes at this point.

Those pretty pink heart-filled eyes.

Vaela beamed, reached forward, and gave Bluebonnet a little pat on the head. The hearts swirled around Bluebonnet’s mind, drawing it deeper and deeper. Drawing her deeper and deeper in. “Good puppy~” she cooed.

Bluebonnet let out a whine.

[Thanks for reading! There’s more after the break, but if you enjoyed this story and want to read more like it, there’s tons more content on my Patreon. For just a few dollars a month, you gain access to alternate Bad Ends, bonus stories, polls on future content, early updates, erotic text-based roleplay/D&D games, and much, much more! If you can afford to, consider pledging, so I can keep posting Tumblr fics like this one on the regular! Thank you! <3]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Cupids are mercurial and arrogant fey, but they can be truly incorrigible—and merciless—when they single out a target in “need” of their affections. As prone to falling in love as making others fall in love with them, the kissing angels are especially attracted to lonely souls, people with low self-worth, and, sometimes, pretty girls with pretty cocks and pliable minds just waiting to be turned into good, adoring puppygirls.

Sometimes, those who get flustered by praise easily are said to have “cupid’s cheeks”: Not just for their rosy blush, but for how temptingly vulnerable they will be should a cupid take notice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“My, my,” Vaela murmured, her hand descending to caress Bluebonnet’s cheek and cradle her chin, “such a gorgeous face you have.”

“Nngh,” Bluebonnet whined. She told herself that she was objecting to this treatment—it was humiliating, surely, being stroked and petted like this, as if she was Vaela’s property, admired and touched like a captive pet, oh, gods, that sounded so hot...

But she wasn’t objecting to the treatment. She wasn’t humiliated at all. It felt wonderful, so, so good, so good it made her knees quake, so good she almost wanted to lean into the touches, to rub her head against the hand like a needy kitten pleading for more scritches. She could barely restrain herself. Barely keep her lips tightly pressed together so she wouldn’t cry out. She could barely keep breathing in that sweet, sweet perfume.

She was objecting to the compliment.

Bluebonnet lived alone in her bakery. She had no friends. Nobody had ever called her... called her pretty before. Or gorgeous. Or said she had a nice face. Or anything like... like this. All this attention, all this praise...

It was unbearable.

And all the more because she couldn’t look away from those lovely, swirling wells of sugary sunset. Couldn’t even duck her head. Couldn’t stop staring open-mouthed into those shimmering, spiraling hearts...

“And just look at those pretty eyes!” Vaela cooed, ignoring Bluebonnet’s muffled objections. She smirked, batting her eyelashes. “So wide and bright and full of longing. Why, they catch the light like fireflies, don’t they, precious?”

“N-Nuh,” Bluebonnet whimpered, shaking her head in a panic. “I-I’m not... n-nnnot...”

“And such a pretty voice!” Vaela gushed, causing Bluebonnet to keen and squirm helplessly “So full of cute sounds and adorable whispers~”

“Nnn!” Bluebonnet’s hands flew up to cover her face—but unthinkingly, she parted the fingers so she could still peek at Vaela’s shimmering heart eyes. And she continued to squirm and shift and whimper beneath that gaze. Within that gaze.

“Now, now, Puppy,” Vaela scolded sweetly, reaching down and taking Bluebonnet by the wrists. Bluebonnet squeaked but did not pull away. Vaela pouted seductively. “You mustn’t cover your face! If you do that, I won’t get to see your gorgeous little soft blushing cheeks!”

Bluebonnet mewled helplessly.

But the heart eyes shimmered. Swirled. Spiraled.

And she felt her hands being guided back down.

And she obeyed.

And as she did, she felt a strange, exotic, wonderful rush through her heart, through her whole body. Oh. Oh, it felt... it felt...

... it felt good to let Vaela control her body.

“Good girl,” Vaela purred. She released one hand.

But she gave the other hand a gentle little squeeze.

Bluebonnet gasped. It felt like her very mind was being squeezed in that hand, all the thoughts squishing away, melting like sweet chocolate in a pretty girl’s palm.

She squirmed. She breathed in deep of Vaela’s sweet, intoxicating pheromones, and her head swam with sweet, addictive syrup.

She whimpered and whined, shaking her head. She knew something about this was wrong, and yet...

... oh, gods, it felt so nice to see a pretty girl looking at her like that.

And... she bit her lip.

To let that pretty girl hold her hand and pet her head and squeeze her mind into molten lovey-dovey putty.... while the pretty girl smirked knowingly, leaned in, let her breathe in deeper still...

Bluebonnet was almost drooling.

... oh, it felt... delectable...

TO BE CONTINUED...

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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[rolanberry-rebel]

Info sheet: Kjalla Nisemi

Name: Kjalla Nisemi Nicknames: K, Two-Guns, “oh hell, not her!”, “Gun-bunny” if you want to get shot Race: Viera (rava) Age: mid-late 30s in hyuran years, exact age unknown (even to her, really) Gender: Cis female Orientation: Whatever suits her at the moment Relationship status: Whatever suits her at the moment Profession: Professional psycho, hired gun, mechanic

Height: 6′2″ Weight: 160lbs. Eyes: Icy blue Hair: Dark blue Skin: Greyish-blue Build: Fit, busty Scars: Deep scar along the left side of her jaw, scarring around her wrists and fingers, scar tissue along her neck. Tattoos: Blue markings along her face; a thorny blue vine splayed down the back of her neck, along her right shoulder and twining around her right bicep Fashion: Spartan and street-tough; never goes anywhere without her kickin’ boots and a good jacket. Loves leather, loves fishnets, loves denim, loves spikes. Comfortable and not necessarily showy. Dark colors. Loves red; loves black. Not afraid to show off what she’s got. When she thinks she’ll need it she's outfitted in the one of the suits of heavy armor she custom-builds herself, varying from more mobile sets of light plate to bulky, gadget-augmented battle suits. Accessories: Kjalla wears a fair amount of jewelry, a lot of it worn and tarnished, suggesting it might have some sentimental value. Often seen with a smattering of dull gold and silver rings, earrings, and a bridge piercing with a pair of rubies at each end.

Birthplace: the Golmore jungles somewhere. Residence: Her junk shop/personal safehouse off of a private jetty near Kugane. Alignment: Chaotic Evil Hobbies: Violence, rowdy nights out, any and every manner of indulgence, creating new weapons and gadgets for her armors, salvaging and experimenting with old junk, making and spending lots of gil Likes: Exciting experiences, adrenaline rushes, the opposite sex, the same sex, swapping stories, swapping punches, money, people with guts, alcohol, tinkering away Dislikes: Cowards, soft people, pretty things, lalafel, you if you get in her way. And chocobos. Disgusting things. Personality: Erratic and unconstrained, shifting wildly with her impulsive mood swings. One night you buy her a drink and you might flirt your way back to her junk-shop; the next she might put a round through your skull. More than anything she likes to surprise and be surprised, so always expect the unexpected. Always headstrong and often arrogant, and you should absolutely never tell her what to do. Ever. In spite of her crazed impulses, when she’s not in a bad mood Kjalla can be incorrigibly flirtatious, friendly, and fun to have a good night out with. Virtues: Strong, physically and emotionally; there’s very little that will break her, and she’s seen it all. Strong leadership instinct, whether through her charisma or force of character simply overwhelming others into following. Obsessively self-sufficient and fiercely independent. Determined and diligent when there’s work to do, and will not quit until she gets it done. Streetwise, clever, skilled; not conventionally smart but picks up new hands-on skills quickly. A fierce, experienced fighter. Unfailingly loyal to those who prove themselves worth it. Bad habits: The obvious - she’s utterly immoral, indulging in any behavior if it makes her feel good. Impulsive, reckless, violent, quick to anger and lash out at others. Heart hard as a rock and a firm believer in the survival of the fittest (the fittest, of course, being her). Trusts next to no one and will betray others save her closest circle if it helps her get ahead. Stubborn as hell. Promiscuous with little regard for whom it might hurt. Huge chip on her shoulder. Has a major problem with authority. Unintelligent by conventional standards, and completely dead to magic.

Significant Other: *derisive laughter* Children: *even more incredulous laughter* Family: All presumed dead, except for her sister Eyrisse, from whom she is estranged. Pets: Linchpin and Electrode, her pair of baby coeurls, who live at her junk-shop. Their unique grounding and electrical powers help Kjalla with her electrical experiments.

Friends: People aren’t friends to Kjalla; they’re tools, things to be used, experienced and discarded. (Most of the time, anyway...)

You might know Kjalla if...

Merciless Mercenary. Kjalla is a notoriously cutthroat sellsword, unscrupulous - more than willing and able to do any job big or small, just as long as kids aren’t involved. (That’s the one line she doesn’t cross.) From political leaders to petty thieves, she’s taken them all. Her race may paint her as a novelty - it’s not often you see a viera mercenary traipsing around the world, after all - but she’s no laughing matter. If you hire mercenaries, work with them, or are one yourself, there’s a good chance you’ve heard of her, under one of her assorted names - some flattering, some very much not.

Underworld Surgeon. Kjalla has no magical healing talent but she’s a darn good field surgeon, and has a great knowledge of alchemical remedies, salves and drugs. A ‘side-job’ of hers is to sell her services as a mundane healer to shady characters who, for fear of the law, of the attention, or otherwise - avoid visiting a reputable establishment for healing after an incident. Criminals on the run, overdose cases, just someone who wants to stay off the grid - if you’re in need of a quick patching-up and you’d rather keep it discreet, her junk-shop is always open.

Life of the Party. Kjalla is a staple in a few of her favorite seedy dives in cities across the world - and would certainly be recognizable to regulars, given scar-covered, foul-mouthed viera with backwater accents aren’t exactly easy to miss. If you frequent these kinds of establishments, you’ve no doubt heard of, seen, and maybe even gotten into a drunken brawl with her.

Purveyor of Dangerous and Exploding Things. Kjalla loves weapons - all of them, but especially guns, bombs, tasers, flamethrowers, dynamite, and weapons far more bizarre and exotic. If you’re a weapon collector, an arms dealer, or if you’re looking to outfit yourself with something significantly more dangerous, you’ve no doubt run in to back-alley gunrunners and smugglers who’ve mentioned her as a supplier. Conversely, if you’re searching for training in gunsmithing or engineering from a master, she might consider it... you’ll probably wind up dead, though, so maaaybe not a good idea... unless that’s your kink. 

Garlean Killer: There’re few jobs Kjalla loves more than the ones where she gets to pop Garlean heads like grapes. Though one could scarcely call the viera a principled woman whose violence is politically sophisticated, she takes a perverse delight in torturing and killing agents of the empire, even if she’s not getting paid to do it. Naturally her reputation for murdering prominent officers, personnel, facilities, and stealing lots of Garlean technology has made her a notorious outlaw in the empire, and if you’re involved in any of those fields, you’d recognize her scarred visage anywhere. Just be careful - she really does love planting bullets right in those third eyes.

Hi! I’ve been RPing forever and I’m lookin for new friends!

Adult female OOCly who’s RPed in every game you can probably think of and happy RPing lots of themes/scene types so long as we talk about it beforehand.

Kjalla is violent, rude, crude, and lustful. I however am (well, in my opinion, anyway...) none of those things, and am happy to talk with nice people! Just be aware most RP involving her’s gonna be one of those things, lol.

Available at random times, usually late evenings EST. Will always try to respond to private messages here no matter when you send them though!

Discord: I’m not on there very much, but I know it’s become a big way for a lotta people to do most of their OOC communication/RP threads so I’m willing to get on there if you wanna talk!

In-game: Anylissa Sebastis (Balmung) or Kjalla Nisemi (Mateus)

If you’re not into psychotic rabbit-ladies, I have my playful spoiled heiress, Anylissa, if you’d prefer. :>

[thepaperpanda]

Confession || Doctor Strange x Reader

Summary: You are Strange's apprentice. You happen to be in love with him. One day you find a courage to inform him about your feelings.

Warnings: none

Words: 1364

Authors: Cass

A/N: Story written for @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam​ writing challenge. My Prompt was: “I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

Another day seemed so boring from the very beginning, yet you had promised yourself that you will no cross it out before the end.

Being an apprentice of doctor Strange himself wasn't an easy task to perform.

The man was moody, and sometimes you were having enough of him. Yet no matter how hard he was on you, you were always coming back to him. It occasionally felt like babysitting a child that lacks of self-control though.

That day couldn't get any worse, you though to yourself after getting downstairs to the large room filled with books. You froze as soon as you passed the threshold. A huge pile of new books was awaiting on the long, wooden desk. Of course, he left me the worst job to do, as always, you though, closing eyes shut for a brief moment.

Then, you started to catalogue the books.

"I can see you finally decided to get up and start your duties, Y/N." Stephen said walking into the room.

Stephen took you from Kamar-Taj after everything that happened. You were a promising student, so promising that the Ancient One herself was training you but after she was gone you were left all alone. He didn't want you to stay there.

He was hard on you and it was completely on purpose, Stephen tried to do whatever you could to make you work hard on yourself and your skills.

You stopped yourself from snapping back in a response, instead you nodded your head slightly. "I'm sorry, Master Strange, I sat too long with a book yesterday's evening and I overslept," breif information was recited smoothly like you would have prepared it before. "As I can see, you've gotten new books for our library, Master."

"I told you to not call me Master, I am indeed your teacher but we aren't in Kamar-Taj anymore," Stephen looked at pile of books, nodding. "I got the for you, those should be fine for your level of knowledge. They are perfect unless you sleep while reading them." He joked, teasing you.

Stephen's cloak floated to you slowly and looked over your shoulder on all of the gathered books.

You petted the cloak gently like you would be petting a little bunny. "Where should I put them? Am I free to decide or do you have some idea?," You asked Strange not looking at him.

You felt his glance on your features, but you didn't dare to give him a look. "Do you want me to bring you the manuscripts I've found in the library recently?"

He nodded, looking at you. "Yeah, that would be nice. I need to take a look at them."

Stephen knew about your feelings torward him, he spend a lot of this with you and he wasn't blind but afterall he could be mistaken. That's why he never did any move when it comes to you, he Stephen waited at you.

"And you can even take them to your room. Like I said, I got the books just for you. I already have read them."

"Of course, Stephen," you told him.

_______

Moving books to your room took you almost an hour. Some of them were pretty heavily, and even with the help offered by cloak, the job was hard.

_____

At the evening, after you finished your meditation session, you've gathered the manuscripts and headed towards Stephen's chamber.

Stephen was busy when you came to his room, so only his cloak floated toward you and wrapped itself around you in a greeting movement.

Strange flipped the page and looked up from his book, rubbing his eyes. "Ah, the manuscripts. I forgot about them." He muttered, sitting straight in his seat. "Thank you, Y/N. Without your help I would get lost long time ago."

You nodded briefly and smiled at him. "Don't say that, you would manage well even without me."

"You think so? Because I am more than sure you are really wrong." He chuckled and closed the book to pay full attention to you.

You put the manuscripts on the top of his desk and took a step backwards. "You're a great Doctor Strange. You're the Stone Protector," you sounded like you would be lecturing him.

Stephen laughed. "I may be a stone protector but I am not a doctor anymore. Not a real one, that's for sure, this kinda ended up my career." He said looking at his hands. "Or maybe it was my stupidity. That's why I make sure to work hard on you."

"I think it wasn't a stupidity but rather a high self-esteem and uppity nature...," You told him trying your best to keep your face straight.

Stephen smiled at you but then he leaned his elbows on the desk. "You know, I noticed a shift in your behaviour."

"A shift on my behaviour?," You asked and tilted your head, crossing arms behind your back. "I am afraid I don't understand."

"And who told you that?" He simply asked, looking at you with a frown. "Why I wouldn't be keen on my own idea?" Stephen smiled mysteriously.

You frowned and cocked your brow. "It was your.... I thought... The Ancient One... Her idea was..."

"Her plan was to teach you, indeed. She couldn't predict that all of this will happen." Stephen shrugged. "I took you here because I didn't want you to stay at Kamar-Taj alone."

He cares for me, he really does, you thought to yourself, and placed hand to your chest. "I understand, sir..."

"I took you in, even if I am not a good teacher. I didn't want you to waste your potential and I didn't really want to be alone here though." Stephen explained.

You nodded. "I understand." You bowed head a little and walked back to the door to leave his chamber, yet you stopped with palm placed on the doorknob. "Stephen...," You turned your head towards him.

Stephen took one of the manuscripts and looked at it briefly before his attention returned to you. "What is it, Y/N?"

"There's something you need to know...," You whispered and turned towards him fully. “I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed... So I'll tell you now... I think I'm in love with you..."

"Come here, young apprentice." He told you simply.

You walked to him trying to hide the blush but failed on that.

Strange got up from his seat and grabbed your hand. "I was hoping you will say that because I can say that you're dear to me too, Y/N."

"No!," You pulled your hand out of his grasp. "Impossible. You're an important figure while I am no one."

Stephen looked at you surprised, he did not expect such a reaction. "Does it really matter who are we? If not the stone I would be no one."

"You're someone even before the Stone," you told him in a serious tone. "You were saving people's lives, and now you're the protector of the Stone. And I am here only because our destinies were somehow tangled together by a coincidence...," You looked down to your feet.

"So... You know those are our destinies, yet you refuse to accept them? Am I really that bad, Y/N?" Before Stephen could say or do anything the cloak wrapped itself tightly around you two as if it was happy.

The sudden movement of the cloak made you giggle nervously.

The material tightened around two of you, pushing you closer to one another, so in the end you had to wrap your arms around Stephen's waist.

"Cloak! You're incorrigible!," You chuckled softly, and gasped through parted lips as you smelled Stephen's cologne.

Stephen laughed and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you closer. "Well, I think the cloak doesn't care what we think. It just wants us to be together, and be aware that the cloak isn't the only one that think like this."

You dared to tap his nose. "We'll see what future holds for us," you told him as you slipped out from his embrace. You stopped by the door. "Good night, Stephen. Don't be long, another day is about to come."