#I hope these aren’t dizzying sorry if they are

[korn-official]

HIT ME ‘CAUSE I’M STRANGE, HIT ME

[nereidprinc3ss]

drunk in love

in which fem!reader gets extra affectionate with spencer when she's drunk and he's just happy to be there

fluff! warnings/tags: drunk!reader, tooth-rottingly sweet fluff, spencer loves you so bad, short n sweet, that's it a/n: this is for the person who requested spencer taking care of drunk!reader and they're just being really cute and kissy and i lost your request i'm sorry but i hope you see this!! if you guys like this pls let me know, i have spencer helping drunk!r with a bath locked and loaded and its also so cute oh my god i love him goodnight

“Spence,” you say, voice pretty and airy as a song, pressing butterfly-light kisses with soft lips all over the side of his face. 

“What?” he asks fondly, fighting to keep his grip on you secure as you keep trying to fall down and bring him with you. This bar isn’t necessarily a dive, but he’s sure the floor is still sticky and he’s not interested in checking. 

“I really love you so much. I love you so much more than anyone else has ever loved anyone before.” It’s the fourth or fifth time you’ve told him you love him so much in ten minutes, but it doesn’t feel any less wonderful to hear. “Say it back!” you pout, settling against his chest. 

“You didn’t give me time to say it back,” he explains patiently, looking down at you and brushing hair behind your ear. “I love you so much, too, baby.”

Suddenly you’re too flustered and shy to make eye contact. 

“Call me that again.”

Spencer’s brow furrows. His smile flickers wider. 

“What? Baby?” You nod into his chest. He smooths your hair. “I call you baby all the time.”

“Because you love me?”

“Because I love you,” he agrees solemnly. 

You squeak, covering your face with your hands. Not for the first time tonight, he wonder what exactly was in those drinks Penelope kept ordering for you.

“Kiss?”

He gently grabs your wrists. 

“You have to show me that pretty face if you want a kiss.”

Your hands slide down your cheeks and you tilt your head up. Now that your face is on display, pretty and shiny in the low lighting, Spencer ducks down and kisses you sweetly, one hand on the back of your head, the other pulling your wrists down and out of the way. He makes sure to not let it go on for too long. There are still plenty of people around, but more saliently, you are quite drunk. 

“Good?” he asks, brushing a thumb over your cheek as he pulls away.

“Can we kiss forever?”

“We can try,” he muses. 

“I love you,” you say again, plainly. “I wish there was a word stronger than love. I feel like I’ve said love so much it’s lost all its meaning.”

“Keep saying it,” he encourages. “I like hearing it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whisper. Spencer leans down for you to cup your hand to his ear clandestinely. Sweet vanilla perfume still clings to your warm skin, lingering on your neck, mixing with the smell of fruity cocktails on your breath and making him dizzy. “I think JJ has a crush on you.”

He chuckles, straightening. Grieving the loss of your scent for just a second in the back of his mind—until you’re pressing against him anxiously, and it returns. 

“JJ is married, babe. I don’t think so.”

You pout. 

“No, but I really think she does! It makes me sad!”

Spencer doesn’t believe it for a second, but he knows hard logic and persuasion aren’t really going to do much for you right now. So he loops an arm around your waist and reigns you in. 

“You don’t need to be sad, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter who has a crush on me because I have a crush on you.”

“Just me?” you ask anxiously. 

“Just you. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. I have a huge crush on you.”

He realizes his voice has taken on that saccharine quality that Derek would give him shit for, and it’s probably visible in his eyes as he leans close to you, but he doesn’t care at all. 

You raise your chin, wordlessly asking for another kiss. He delivers. The fabric of his shirt tugs where you grab onto it, attempting to bring him closer even when he draws away from the kiss. Of course he allows it, narrowly avoiding stepping on your toes as you pull him to you like a dog on a leash. 

“Can we go home? I wanna cuddle.”

Oh, yeah. If Derek were present he’d have the most ridiculous, shit-eating grin on his face right now. Luckily he’s not here right now, and even if he were, Spencer would still brush your hair aside and say, absolutely we can go home and cuddle. 

“Of course we can. Do you want to say goodbye to everyone?”

“Mm… can we Irish goodbye?”

He chuckles. 

“I think you should say thank you to Penelope for buying you all of those ridiculous drinks that are making you so nice.”

You make a face. 

“I’m always nice.”

“You’re not always this nice,” he reminds you with a small smile, resting his hands on your waist. You frown. 

“In my head I am.”

He kisses your head. It’s impossible not to. 

“I know. Come on, let’s say bye. I want to go home too.”

“You think I’m not usually nice?”

“Of course I don’t think that. I think you’re so nice.”

“Oh my god, can we get ice cream?” You gasp, already distracted and pulling him along by the hand as you weave through the sparse crowd. 

He smiles to himself, happy to follow your lead as long as you don’t let go. 

“We can definitely get ice cream. We can do whatever you want.”

[tender-rosiey]

hii, hope im not bothering uu!!

my brain is obsessed with ur daddy gojo ficsss!! 🤭🤭 just a thought though. what if gojo brought his kid to work since reader couldnt hire a babysitter and had work to do!! 😱😱 kid can be a baby or like, 7-10?? or something? (idrc i jus need to feed my head with more dad gojo fics 😔😔, kid can be a girl or boy!!) hopee u have a nice dayyy!! ❤❤

missing – gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: I wrote the kid being around 5 or 6 max, I think?? hope you like this as well! <3

you are standing at the door, checking over everything with your husband, "satoru, you got the toys?"

like the proud and confident dad he is, he replies with ease, "yep."

"the snacks?"

“of course,” he grins, pulling up the bag of snacks and toys to show you.

but you’re still stressing, "what about—“

"wifey, relax!” he starts rubbing your shoulders soothingly; “I got everything she needs. you have nothing to worry about,” he presses a loud kiss to your cheek.

"last time you said that, you teleported with d/n to the maldives."

he laughs loudly, before pulling you into a big hug, "aww, babe; I said I am sorry,” he is swaying the both of you, “you know I wanted you to be with us."

"that's not the point!"

"oh wowie, look at the time!” he looks at his fake watch and starts gently pushing you towards the car, “you’re gonna be late sweetheart."

"oh god!" you gasp, quickly giving satoru his goodbye kiss, and running to your daughter to give her own goodbye peck on the cheek as well, “I will miss you; take care of dada, okay?”

“aren’t I the one who is supposed to do that taking care part?!”

“bye ‘toru; bye d/n! love you!”

“love you too!” they both reply in unison before looking each other in the eye. satoru grins at her, “do you want to see uncle nanami?”

“nanamin!” she squeals then runs to god knows where.

soon, they finally get to jujutsu tech.

it took longer than usual because the little missy ran off and decided to play hide and seek. in addition to that, since the madlives incident, you banned satoru from teleporting with d/n because it gets her really dizzy and she starts puking.

so like the common people, he takes a car and has to wait till they arrive there. he wants to grumble, but, at least, his princess is there to play with him and make conversations.

they are finally in class when nobara coos, crouching down in front of d/n, “oh, you’re so cute!”

the little girl grins, “thank you!”

“also, I love your dress!”

“oh; thank you!” d/n gasps and starts twirling around, “mommy picked it for me! It’s so pretty, right?” nobara nods eagerly at her and it makes d/n giggle.

d/n pauses for a moment, a pout on her face and eyes get teary, and looks at satoru, “mommy…”

satoru pats her head, “we will see her soon; don’t worry.”

“wow; I am surprised you’re acting like a proper dad,” megumi comments, waving at d/n who grins back at him.

swiftly, yuuji defends his teacher’s pride, “hey! sensei is a great dad!”

d/n starts swinging her arms around and running in place like she is preparing for something. soon. it is revealed what she is waiting for. the door opens and she launches herself at the new guest, “nanamin!”

nanami effortlessly catches her and secures his hold on her, “d/n, that was dangerous; what if you got hurt?”

she looks down with yet another pout, “I know…’am sorry. just missed you.”

nanami sighs before patting her head, “it’s alright,” a tiny smile creeps up, “are you having fun so far?”

she nods happily and starts rambling about how cool nobara is or how much fun yuuji is to be around. meanwhile, satoru is standing in a corner with his arms crossed and grumbling, “that’s my daughter, you know.”

“imagine losing your daughter’s affection to someone else,” megumi pops up from behind satoru.

he retorts with no hesitation, “imagine not having a father.”

satoru looks petrified at megumi who is so very offended. satoru starts mini-panicking, “wait—megumi, I was kidding!”

“divine dogs.”

satoru shrieks and d/n squeals, pointing at him, “minmin, daddy’s playing with ‘gumi’s dogs!”

nanami averts his attention to gojo playing (read: being attacked). he nods slowly at the suffering man, “he is having so much fun; isn’t he?”

 “yay!” she throws her arms in the air.

nobara snaps a picture of d/n, “she’s adorable!”

yuuji sobs beside her, “I know right?!”

that was at the beginning of the day, but, right now, satoru has to attend a meeting for some reason with the higher-ups, including yaga. though, it hardly counts as a proper one considering that satoru laid out d/n toys so she can play with him.

“daddy, you’re not supposed to give him the green shirt; he needs the blue one.”

satoru quickly obeys, “yes ma’am,” and he changes the doll into his fabulous blue outfit. d/n giggles and holds his face to kiss his cheek.

one of the higher-ups clears his throat, “refrain from such disrespectful behavior during the meeting, gojo.”

satoru smiles humorlessly at the elder, “last time I checked, my daughter’s happiness is a lot more important than the nonsense you spout every single time.”

d/n carefully makes her way down the table and pulls on satoru’s pants, “daddy, toilet, please.”

“this was a fun meeting!” he beams, collecting d/n’s toys in her bag, “I have more urgent matters to attend to so adieu!” he mock bows, before bending to pick his daughter up, “let’s go princess.”

the door closes after satoru and d/n leave, and everyone looks at yaga. he takes a deep breath, “listen, that's his daughter. asking him not to pamper her is like asking a cat to let go of her kittens. you will get bit.”

time passes and satoru is chilling with d/n in the common room. she is laying on his lap and curled around herself. she groggily looks up to him, “when are we going to see mommy?”

he starts stroking her hair, “soon; I promise,” he takes out a candid picture he took of you and hands it to her, “how about you take this until we go back home and see mommy?”

she nods slowly and hugs the photo close. satoru smiles softly and presses a kiss to her forehead. not much after, d/n falls asleep with your photo secure in her hold.

it makes satoru chuckle. it reminds him of how he can never sleep without you either.

that’s why when he goes on mission, he scrolls endlessly through your photos until sleep takes over him or he listens to any voice message you sent. it helps him with the dilemma of missing you, and he is glad it helps his daughter the same way.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @sonder-paradise @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies@pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @mx-0-child @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @satoryaa @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @the-weeping-author @stray-npc @libbyistired @anon1412 @anakalana @maehemthemisfit @satorustar @b4nka1

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[moonstruckme]

I know we have emt mauraders (and I absolutely love them with all of my heart), but I can't get the image of fireman James out of my head. He's just so beefed up and just has that build about him. You know? 🫠

So true babe <3

cw: reader is trapped in elevator for a bit

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 753 words

It took you some time to work up the courage to press the HELP button. Your building’s elevator has always been a bit scary, shuddering and screeching ever since you’d moved in, so you’d hoped for a while that it would just fix itself, remember that it was supposed to be moving and deliver you safely to your floor. No such luck.

You’re endlessly glad that you’re going home and not running late to work when it takes the fire crew another twenty minutes to show up. You’re guessing elevator rescues aren’t at the top of their priority list. When someone finally bangs on a door somewhere below you, you scramble up from where you’ve been sitting on the floor. 

“Fire department,” a man’s voice says.

“Hi,” you call back, feeling immediately stupid for it. Were you supposed to say your job description back or something? 

“Is everyone okay? How many of you are there?” 

“It’s—it’s just me.” 

“Alright,” the voice says, “we’re gonna get you out of there, just give us a second.” 

You hum back though he probably can’t hear. There’s a lot of creaking metal and muffled voices, and then the door to your prison squeaks slowly open. Most of what you can see is clearly elevator shaft, but there’s a small opening at your feet. Once it’s a couple of feet wide, a curly head pops through. 

“Hi,” the voice from earlier says. It comes from a lovely face, all tan skin and warm eyes and a radiant smile, like this man finds everything about his day genuinely cheering. “You alright in here? Injured at all?” 

It takes you a second to find your voice, and even once you do it sounds pitchier than normal. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” 

“Perfect.” Somehow, his grin seems to widen, which is a bit much for you right now. Suddenly you’re kind of dizzy. “Okay, I’m just going to have you scooch on your bum over here and stick your legs out, yeah? I’ll pop out so I can lower you down.” 

He’s going…he’s going to grab your legs. Okay. Awesome. This is totally your everyday. 

Some of your hesitance must show on your face, because the man’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself,” he says. “I’m James. What’s your name?” 

You tell him, so quietly you’re not sure he can hear, but James nods anyway. “Y/n, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’ve already been stuck for god knows how long, and I’m sure you’d like to get to where you’re going. This is the easy part, okay?” 

“Okay,” you echo. 

James gives you an encouraging smile, retreating from the opening. “Alright, just set your legs out here,” he calls up. 

You sit down on the elevator floor, slipping your feet through so your legs are dangling in open air. A second later, strong hands grip the undersides of your thighs. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” James says. “I’m gonna ease you out, and I just need you to lean back so you don’t bump your head on anything, yeah?” 

You hum in response. He starts pulling you out of the elevator, his grip moving up your thighs to your bottom once it emerges. Your heart thunders, both from the intimate contact and from trusting your weight wholly to someone else. Soon you’ve cleared the opening. Another set of hands cups the back of your head to ensure you don’t hit it on the elevator floor, and then you’re sitting up, your hands landing on James’ shoulders for balance. They’re really quite substantial, you can’t help but notice, wide and full of thick, corded muscle. He tilts his head back, grinning up at you. 

“See?” he says. “Easy.” 

A dizzy little laugh escapes you, and James’ grin takes on a whole new quality. Something curious about it. He hoists you up in his arms, grip transferring to your waist so he can lower you to the floor. 

“Thanks,” you manage, looking up at him. You look at the other handful of firefighters around too, the embarrassment of your situation finally sinking in. Your face heats. “I really appreciate the help.” 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” James says. As the others start packing up equipment, his attention stays on you. “You sure you’re alright? Where are you going from here?” 

You do your best to give him a smile of your own. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m just going home. I live on the sixth floor.” 

He hums. “Best take the stairs this time.”

[tadpolesonalgae]

Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sibling!Reader: Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You

A/N: I was in the mood for a writing a heated argument that turns into an even hotter make-out session, but then it got slightly depressing so…

Warning: slight angst but not much because I can’t take that emotionally :’)

-Part 2[*]-

“How was she today?”

You fight the urge to clench your jaw. The harsh snapping of your book is the limit to how far you’ll allow the leash on your anger to slip. Jealousy? Frustration? Whatever complicated nonsense he’s gotten you tangled up in.

“No hello? What about a how are you today?” You ask tersely. So much for keeping your emotions on a tight leash. His brow narrows a little—you don’t usually bubble over when he asks how your older sister is doing. “You weren’t practically bed-ridden for months,” he replies slowly, gauging your response carefully.

Instantly, guilt weighs in the pit of your stomach, and you look away quickly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you,” you soothe hastily. Gods, why did you say that to him? You’re trying to gain his favour, not make him think you’re an ungrateful, self-absorbed sister. “She was fine. We did some baking—well, Elain did some baking, I was reading something. It’s a new book, actually! Because I finished the last one, which was actually pretty good, but this one I think is set in the last war and…” you trail off when you notice the patient smile he’s giving you.

Right. He’s not interested in what book you’re reading, or how you spent the day. He’s not interested in you full stop. He’s interested in Elain. You fight the way disappointment wants to twist the edges of your mouth, instead plastering on a smile that you hope he reads as oops, look at me! There I go again, haha.

“Well,” you say, swallowing the lump in your throat, “she made some cupcakes—I think they were vanilla, and she put something that looked like jam inside. Really good. I’m sure she’d be happy for you to try one—if you ask,” you smile, adding in the details he wants to hear. For the Spymaster, he’s surprisingly open about his interest in Elain to you. But maybe that’s because you’re always so willing to answer any question you can for him.

“I’m glad,” he says, something glimmering in his hazel eyes. “And there were no silent spots? No abrupt changes?” You return your attention to the book in your hands, fingers running over the bound edges, “she was fine all the way. You never would have guessed everything she’s been through.” He hums, pleased with her progress. It’s a sound of contentment, from the back of his throat that you’re certain rumbles throughout his chest. It’s an effort to keep your attention on the book.

It’s been more than two years since the three of you were tossed into the Cauldron. Feyre and Rhysand are happy, Nesta’s made progress on healing herself and is now alarming in love with Cassian, Elain’s taking large steps in a good direction, too. You remember vividly the time when she would hardly utter a word for days, hardly shift her gaze from a strange spot in the middle-distance, how worried she made you and Nesta. And Feyre, obviously, but things were a little…strange at the time. They always had been.

You spent the first few months struggling to hold a meal down, often being wracked with spasms of anxiety and flushes of hot and cold. There was a time you would black out if you stood up too fast, and now you can hold down three meals a day without needing to run to the nearest latrine provided you don’t eat too quickly. You feel like yourself again, but fresher. You know you aren’t the same as you were, though. Not after the Cauldron, but you had no choice but to adapt. With eternity ahead of you, you couldn’t stand the thought of spending it weakened and frail—hardly capable of standing without feeling dizzy.

Maybe you are a little jealous that Elain’s getting all the attention. She’d always been the centre of Nesta’s attention, and while you were on fairly good terms with your oldest sister throughout your childhood, you were no competition for her sharp mind and sharper tongue. Feyre was the wild one, Elain the pretty one, Nesta the cunning one—then there was you.

What’s your place in your dysfunctional family?

“It’s good she seems to be steadily improving,” Azriel says, breaking you from your inner thoughts. You nod dutifully, agreeing with him. “She smiled for most of it, too,” you add, remembering how pleased she’d been when they came out how she wanted—after numerous attempts. “Though she was covered in flour—her hair was practically white!” You laugh fondly, covering your mouth with your hand.

A faint smile appears on his lips and, for just a moment, you let yourself pretend he’s smiling at the sound of your laugh.

But that’s all you have to report back to him, and even if you’ve pleased him, he’ll be finding an excuse to slip off now that he knows she’s been fine. You’ll admit, it’s difficult to remember she’s your sister when he so clearly would choose her over you. It’s not even a competition.

So you swallow your nerves, tuck your hands behind your back and peer up at him. “Hey, you read right?” You ask, keeping a pleasant smile on your lips—lest he think you’re too eager. He blinks out of whatever thought he was having, clearing his gaze as he looks down at you, then nods. “I’ve been known to pick up a book from time to time,” he answers. He’s in a good mood, it seems.

“Do you have a favourite?” You ask, tipping your head at a slight angle, appearing to look at the books stacked on the shelves. “I feel like I’ve been rereading the same story over and over again and want to try something else.”

“You’re asking me to pick just one?” He replies, quirking his brow. The smile that comes to your mouth isn’t as fake, or as controlled as you would like—it stretches your lips thin, showing the gaps either side of the top row of your teeth.

“Okay, give me a couple to have a nose at. So if one bores me to tears, I can pick up another,” you laugh gently, pulling the book tight to your chest, worried you’re showing too much. Does he know how your days often centre around whether he’ll seek you out? The too-short conversations that often revolve around your sister?

“Does Elain read?” He asks, tentatively, and it’s like a stone to your cheek. You clutch the book tighter to your chest, taking in a slow, quiet breath. “I can ask her? Subtly, of course,” you force a smile, fingers digging into the spine of the book. He shakes his head, “I’ll do it. I’d like to see how she’s doing for myself.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, “to be fair, she might be sick of them for how long she was in here last year. They might be an eyesore by now,” you laugh softly. But instead he frowns disapprovingly, like you shouldn’t be making jokes at her expense. And suddenly that urge appears, the urge to confront him about his behaviour—why he never talks to you for you.

“Azriel…?” You say, the smile slipping from your lips, though your make sure your eyes still sparkle a little, keeping them partially crinkled. But then you bite the inside of your lip, and the rest of the mask fades, leaving you raw, and more than a bit scared. If you overthink it, it’ll never get done.

“Why do you…I don’t feel like you ever…like we ever talk. Us,” you say, then flush at the word—so intimate. Us. “What do you mean?” He asks, standing sturdy before you. A seed of frustration sprouts within, but you push the irritation away. “I just…You’re always asking me about Elain.” His brow narrows a bit, and you want to take the words back.

“What else?”

You look up at him, all beauty and classical grace, and such unearthly, ethereal lines and angles to him you wish you knew how to paint like Feyre. “What do you mean, ‘what else’?” You ask, a little hurt.

“I mean, is there something else you want to talk about?” He asks, gently. Carefully.

My book would be nice. I’d like you to ask how I’m doing today, how I’m feeling, what I want to do.

“Something that doesn’t involve my sister, would be nice,” you laugh, giving him a smile that reads, can you really blame me for not wanting to talk about Elain all the time? He doesn’t smile like you’d hoped, but frowns. “Do you not like her?” He asks instead, “did something happen between you two?”

“No,” you say hurriedly. “No—nothing happened, we’re fine. Right as rain. It’s just…you always ask after her, and I feel like that’s the only reason you approach me.” You swallow, having begin to put the truth out there for him. “You seem fine talking about other things with Feyre and Nesta, but I can’t remember the last time we talked about something that wasn’t my sister, and I… I don’t really…” You trail off, watching him nervously.

His frown only deepens as he takes you in. “I’m asking out of concern for her well-being, you understand that, don’t you?” He asks.

“I know, I know, but…are you?” You reply, managing to reign in your wince at the blunt question. When he only looks at you without response, you push forward. “I mean, you…you like her, don’t you? That’s why you ask all these questions? Why you care more than the others do?” You say, fighting to keep your voice even as the words come out. “And there’s nothing wrong with that,” you quickly amend, “but, you know, it would be nice to talk to you for you. And you for me. And, you know, she does have a…mate, so, I just thought—”

“What did you think?”

You blink at the sharp tone, his eyes colder than before, more sealed off. Still, you square your shoulders, keeping the book tucked tight against your front. “Well, that, maybe, it would be better to try somewhere else? Instead of investing in someone who’s practically already taken?”

“She doesn’t love him.”

“I know she says that, but—”

“But nothing,” he says, brow narrowing. “The mating bond can’t force someone to fall in love. If she doesn’t want him, she doesn’t have to have him.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you shift on your feet beneath his penetrating gaze. “Feyre and Rhys worked out,” you manage, eyes flitting away from his, focusing on the book in your hands. “And she didn’t love him at first.” The paper’s old and crisp—worn with age. “Then Nesta and Cassian also got together, too,” you add, the pads of your fingers dragging over the pages, “and you saw what Nesta was like. How badly she was struggling. They didn’t look like they were going anywhere but destruction, but—”

“Are you done with the nosey speculation into other people’s relationships, or is that how you’ve found yourself filling your time?”

Again you blink at him, caught off guard by the ice in his tone. “I’m not saying it’s wrong to pursue her, Azriel,” you appease—try to. “I’m just saying maybe you could try looking…elsewhere, you know? Maybe try something with someone else? That won’t end badly?”

“You don’t know it will end badly,” he replies, all former warmth gone, no trace of it in his beautifully designed features. “It will for someone. Even if you and Elain do somehow end up together, what about Lucien? If it were Feyre and Rhys, or Nesta and Cass, would you think it okay for someone to try and separate them? When they were chosen to be together?”

“Bad pairings happen. Rhys’ parents are a fine example.”

“Yes, but they’re rather suited for one another, don’t you think?” You ask, pushing forward, “Elain’s always excelled at social events. She easily settles into the flow of conversation—she knows what to say, and how to act to put people at ease around her. And Lucien does the same. He knows how to draw ties between people where there seem to be none, just like her. He knows how to keep conversation flowing without pushing it, how to keep things at the right pace, just like her.”

“While you…” you pause, and his jaw tightens.

“Go on,” he says icily, “tell me why think I’m undeserving of her.”

“I don’t think its a case of deserving, Azriel,” you say quickly. “But you…well, you try to blend into any corner you can when there are more than three people in the room.”

His brow narrows, “I didn’t realise you’d been keeping tabs on me.”

“Yes, well, you’re the only one I’m interested in, so.” Your voice is soft, bladed, honed. Resigned. You lips press into a thin line as your eyes flicker away from his, too embarrassed to look even in his general vicinity. You had never anticipated laying your heart to bare to be so…scary? Terrifying?

Anti-climactic.

Admitted in such a quiet, understated way. As if he isn’t the first one you’ve ever felt so strongly for. As if he isn’t the first one who’s given you a vague understanding of why some women were so happy to do whatever their husbands told them. Why they were so happy to live in subservience, and why that’s not what it was.

“You think you’re deserving of me?” He asks, coldly. Shame and embarrassment heat your features, but you manage to shoot back, “do you think you’re deserving of her?” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to prevent yourself from being intimidated by his height, and muscle, and beauty, and overall damned attractiveness that makes you weak in the knees.

His upper lip twitches in a repressed snarl, anxiety spiking in your chest. “Answer my question,” he says, softly, an edge to his voice. You swallow, “answer mine.” You’ve never demanded something from someone before, but it’s out there now, and it feels surprisingly good to insist on something for yourself.

He regards you silently, and it takes a remarkable strength to stand still beneath his icy gaze—knowing that he’s judging what he’s seeing. Weighing if you’re worth his answer.

“I think I gave a hint of my interest for her,” he says, eyes glittering with something cold that you’re unaccustomed to have turned on yourself. “And she reciprocated with her own signs.” He stares you down, unyielding, and powerful, and you want to run and hide. “What about you?”

You purse your lips to keep them from trembling as heat crawls beneath your skin with humiliation. But—no. Get over it. Make it through. Survive something else. “I think I’m tired, and hurt from knowing that you only talk to me because you want to know how my sister is doing,” you confess, voice wobbling. “I think it’s cruel to continue asking after her when I so obviously answer every question you have just so you might pay me a little more attention.”

There’s no bite to your words, and they come out softer and weaker than you had expected. You feel tired, and drained. Eyelids heavy and heart rate spiking every other beat, numerous crescent shaped indentations on the heel of your palms.

“Maybe you’d be better off turning your affections somewhere they’d be appreciated,” he says, icily. Your heart aches, and it takes a few humiliating moments for you to gather yourself enough that you won’t burst into tears when you again find your voice. “That’s all you have to say?” You manage, fingers trembling behind your back.

“Maybe if you were even half the female she is, I’d be tempted to show a little interest,” he snarls softly, eyes glittering with cold rage.

It feels like a smack to the face, a punch to your stomach. Your eyes go wide, then blur, hot pressure building steadily. You dig your nails into the binding of your book, and move to walk past him—at least preserve what little dignity is still intact by refusing to let him see you cry. He already barely sees you as a woman, you won’t win any points with your blubbering. He wants a female, not a girl.

But he seems to realise what he’s said and turns, gripping your upper arm to keep you from leaving. You allow him to stop you, if only because demanding he let you go would show your tears. “I didn’t mean that,” he says quietly, and you can hear the pity in his voice. “I spoke in anger, I did not mean to upset—”

“Get those hands off me,” you snarl, turning on him with defensive ire blazing in your pupils. Rage fresh from the forges.

He recoils as if you burned him. Retreats a step.

“Not nice, is it? Targeting someone’s insecurity—rubbing salt into an open wound?” You snap, blinking away the tears and pulling your arm back to yourself. “Don’t come asking me for updates on Elain again. I don’t want to talk to you if your only interest is in getting between her legs.”

He’s silent for a moment, and you debate just running from the library—you can feel the storm in him brewing, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him. But he doesn’t wait for you to decide, because the storm breaks right then and there. “At least she has someone interested in getting her into bed,” he says softly, hazel piercing into you. “Can you say the same?”

Mortification flushes your skin, mouth parting in humiliation. “I—…This is inappropriate,” you hiss to hide your burning shame. Because no, it’s always been Elain and Nesta to be pursued. His eyes gleam, reading your thoughts clear as day in your expression. “Thought not.”

Pain twists viciously across your chest, heart strings being plucked within an inch of snapping—pulled taught around your throat. “If I’ve never taken a man to bed, it is not because I am unwanted. Rather that I would not waste my self nor my time on someone I was not sure about. That I did not want with everything I have,” you whisper hoarsely—the final layer stripped bare for him to slice and dissect.

But then he steps forward, and without thinking, you yield a step. He’s not perturbed, and takes another. “You admit you have no experience in bed, yet think you could handle me?” He snarls softly, wings flaring ever so slightly at his back, shadows thickening. “I don’t think it’s a matter of handling you, Azriel.” His name is a little more than a whisper from your mouth. One he tracks eagerly.

“No?” He asks, stepping forward again, slowly herding you. “Then what?” You swallow, trying to stand your ground, but the sense of him is so overpowering, he threatens to obliterate every ounce of your own self. “I think it would be a matter of learning. And if you think I’m unprepared, then Elain is definitely no better off, so that clearly isn’t your issue.”

“At least she’s shared the bed of a man before, at least she would know what to do.” You don’t correct him that you have, in fact, shared a bed with a male before. A few in fact, by this point. Nesta’s the bad influence. He steps forward again, and he’s towering over you, hazel glittering between his shadows. “At least she wouldn’t lose her head over the slightest touch.”

And then his hands have landed softly on your hips, and your head is silent. Only his touch on your body, his warmth on your skin, seeping into your clothes. Does he find your shape pleasing? Is he feeling this mind-numbing shock? The tingling at his fingertips where they’re pressing into you?

For a too-long moment you just stare at him, thoughts eddying about without a destination, floating throughout your conscious.

“Still in there?” He taunts quietly, pushing you back, turning you gently as he feels the heat radiating from your skin, the stiffness to your body beneath his touch. It’s only when a hard, wooden shelf digs into the base of your spine that you realise he’s pushed you against the case. You open your mouth—to say what, you don’t know. He beats you to it either way. “You want to prove you haven’t already lost your mind?” He says softly, voice like a lover’s touch. You can do nothing but stare at him, panting softly, completely at his mercy. “Tell me to stop, or I’ll keep going. Say no, and it finishes,” he murmurs, keeping you pressed tight between his hips and the book case. “But I think you’ve already lost.”

You blink up at him, hardly a thought behind your eyes.

In the back of your mind, you’re struggling frantically to decode his words, translate them into something that makes sense. And then his challenge clicks, and you take a sudden, deep breath. You need to tell him to stop, to show him you’re still in control of yourself—that you haven’t lost your head over the slightest touch.

But then his mouth latches over yours, tongue prying your lips apart, and your efforts of rebellion are washed away. You go all warm, and soft, and pliable in his hands, melting like butter as you coat him. His piercing hazel eyes lock with yours as his mouth slants, one hand rising to the curve of your spine, pulling you against his front.

How are you supposed to stand against him when he annihilates everything that you are with the softest brush of his fingers—fingers that are now tracing up the path of your spine, reaching that final notch as they tangle with delicious pressure in your hair. His gaze cuts into you as his tongue drags across your own, flicking at the roof of your mouth.

He’s utterly unruffled, and you feel like you’re on the verge of bursting into flame right there, setting him ablaze in the process.

But then you’re again subverting his expectations, your hands flying over his shoulders as you tilt your head to allow him deeper. The only sign of surprise he allows is a blink of his eyes, but you’re already lifting onto your tiptoes—the swell of your breasts dragging over his chest in a way you must’ve learned males like. But where would you have learned?

Your arms tighten, then your hips are pressing against him, and—you’re fighting back, he realises. And for the first time in a long, long time, he feels excitement flare deep inside him as you stride to meet him. No matter that you aren’t Elain: he’s hungry, and you can make your own decisions. If you want him to stop, you need only say the word, and he’ll be off you. But if you don’t…well, he’s not going to be the one who backs out first.

He has a damn point to prove—that you have no idea what you’re getting into with him.

Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb

[captainfern]

HI CAP!!! I’m the anon who requested breeding & overstim like a week ago AND IT WAS SO GOOD OML TY.

Anyways I know requests are closed but I hope you see this when they’re open 😭

HEAR ME OUT: Breeding kink, overstim, praise, slight restraint (yknow strong dad bod Price 🤭), and AGAINST THE WALL.

Thank you cap~ Love you!

sorry this is so late :(

anyway here’s some p0rn lmao

18+, fem!reader

price had you pinned against the wall of your bedroom, your legs parted as the large front of him pressed up against you. his broad chest and the warm curve of his stomach kept you motionless against the wall, rendering you immovable.

he held both of your wrists in one hand, holding them above you and pinning them to the wall as his other hand took hold of your hip, angling you into place so he could continue fucking up into you.

you were shaking beneath him, sweating with trembling legs as your husband fucked you, splitting you open on his cock. you could hardly moan anymore, releasing small whimpers of his name as each thrust knocked up against the plug of your womb.

he groaned above you, animalistic and claiming, marvelling at the way your cunt sucked in his cock, taking him so well. after three orgasms, your entire body was alight with overstimulation, but still reacting to his touch. it made pride surge within him, mixed with the feeling of possession. you were his.

his cock stretched you open, your previous orgasms dripping out of you with each thrust, running down the inner fat of your thighs. price’s dick and front of his pelvis was also slick with your releases (which he always loved). the sounds were wet, sounding around your shared room and making your head spin.

“mmm, so good, baby—” price grunted, cutting himself off with a groan as the silken walls of your cunt clenched around him. “being such a good— yeah, that’s it— good girl for me, aren’t you?”

you nodded deliriously, your entire body wracked with pleasure. you almost felt dizzy when your fourth consecutive orgasm began to build like static in your lower tummy.

“‘course you are, ‘course you are…” price muttered, slamming into you and keeping you restrained against the wall. his stomach pressed to yours, his chest against your bare breasts. the feeling of you both rubbing together was driving him insane. he groaned your name, followed by a string of curses. “fuck, my good girl. my best girl. always so good for me, aren’t you, sweetheart? always so good for your captain.”

you tossed your head back against the wall and moaned, his words going straight to your pussy. you felt yourself flutter around the thick girth of his cock, forcing a strained grunt from his lips before he leaned down to attach his mouth to the side of your neck.

price sucked kisses there, continuing still to grind himself against you. you could feel his warmth, the hair spanning his chest and stomach, and his facial hair scratching lightly at the link of your shoulder. you moaned at all the added stimulus, your trembling body beginning to seize up as your release approached.

“john—” you moaned, hands struggling and flexing in his hold. but he didn’t budge.

he held you against the wall while he fucked you, grunting into the curve of your neck as the tip of his cock continued to bully up against your cervix, drawing whimpers and whines from your mouth.

“that’s it, let me hear those pretty noises,” he muttered against you, licking over your hot skin. “let your captain hear you.”

you did. you moaned and whimpered outwardly for him. for your husband, your captain. you moaned with each upward thrust of his cock into the slick heat of your pussy, body shaking beneath him as finally your orgasm neared it’s crest for what felt like the millionth time.

“captain.” you whimpered, and price moaned in response, continuing his pace and keeping his thrusts consistent as he brought you to the edge, your vision blurring in the corners.

“that’s it… that’s my girl. been so good for me, baby. you can come,” he praised, and then urged gently towards the end. “you can come. come all over my cock one more time for me. one more time like my good girl.”

you shattered beneath him— coming around his cock again, losing yourself in the feeling of him. your entire body shook, muscles stiffening as you arched off the wall, pressing ever closer to him as your orgasm consumed you.

you had to stop yourself from squealing as your release gushed out of you— liquid warmth splattering out from around his cock, dripping down your trembling thighs. the thrusting sounds grew wetter, and price’s cock twitched inside you, still battering the entrance to your cervix.

he groaned. “fuck, fuck— that’s it, that’s it— my good girl, just— fuck— just like that. let me come inside you… let me come inside this perfect fuckin’ pussy.”

you mewled, practically going limp against him.

“s’alright, baby, i’ve got you. i’ve got you. just let me fill you up, okay? let me get you nice and fat with my baby…” he trailed off, interrupted by a string of grunting huffs. “yeah— yeah let me fill you up. let me breed this tight little pussy and make her mine.”

price came with a guttural moan of your name, still talking against your neck, the vibrations making you keen.

he stood true to his word, pumping you full of him. he was so deep that you could feel the warmth of his release spreading inside you, and he slowly softened as he pumped himself dry.

“shit…” he whispered, pulling out of you and dropping your arms. the mix of your releases dropped down your thighs in thick droplets, and the sudden loss of his cock made you whine.

“it’s okay, it’s okay, i’m here.” price cooed, guiding you slowly over to the bed and laying you down. he lay down next to you, before you felt his fingers brush up against your core. he slowly stuffed two fingers inside you, but not before dragging them up your thighs to collect his seed that had spilled out.

price held you against him with his other arm, kissing you gently over the top of your head and across your face, all the while keeping you plugged with his thick fingers.

“did such a good job, sweetheart,” he told you. “i love you.”

[phfenomena]

❝in that lavender haze❞ || tom blyth x f!reader

| request- hear me out! lavender haze with tom 🤭

| A/N- done and done. im hearing you out and im listening so hard. i’ve been high probably like hundreds of times but still cannot properly word it sorry 💔

| WARNINGS- marijuana consumption (mega slay), kissing, eating, wine, tiktok, tooth rotting fluff,

(divider by @benkeibear)

the feeling of your lungs being filled with smoke made you giddy, everything with sharp edges turning soft and fuzzy. coughing lightly at the larger hit you’d taken you passed the blunt to your left, to tom.

your eyes fixed on the way his lips wrapped around it and the way he closed his eyes at the sensation. your hopeless crush on your mutual friend with rachel had been developing for months, seeing him at every gathering and meet up.

he was fairly nice and polite, the true english way. you just wished he’d converse with you, more than small talk. you’re laying on your back on the floor and studying the swirling patterns on the ceiling. out of your peripheral vision you see tom lay down next to you.

staring at the ceiling with you, you don’t ever say too much. and you don’t really read into my melancholia.

“you don’t have much to say, do you?” you question into the air hoping that tom would cling on. he hums and says “yeah, i don’t know what you like or what you don’t like so i jus’ say nothing.” you turn your head to face him- all caution thrown to the wind. you find it hard to care about your words in your state. “when i first met you i thought you hated me, you wouldn’t talk to me like how you talked to everyone else. thought i might’ve done something. sometimes i still think that.” you confess and it hangs lowly over both of you.

“i was honestly kind of scared of you. in my head you’re this cool actress who does slashers and everyone loves her. i didn’t wanna say the wrong thing.” you smile and place your hand on your chest. “you think i’m cool? i think you’re cooler, tom.”

his eyes crinkle when he laughs and you love it. you find it hard to decipher where the high ends and where how tom makes you feel starts, but they’re mixing. “i think you’re really cool. you do these cool like artistic horror movies and i’m kind of obsessed with your acting.”

i find it dizzying, they’re bringing up my history. but you aren’t even listening.

the group on the couch and chairs above you pass a bottle of wine and finish off the blunt. your friend laughs loudly and you turn to look at him. “do you remember that time last year when you dated the like entire cast of that one movie? what’s it called? i can’t remember. that was funny as shit.” you cringe and cover your face trying to forget.

tom lightly grazes your shoulder with his finger and whispers “are you hungry? i really want pizza right now.” you smile and nod. he wasn’t going to ask about your questionable past times. he pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to you. “i can’t function enough to order pizza, could you do it?” you happily nod and scroll your way through the menu before you both agree on toppings you both like.

i just wanna stay in that lavender haze. talk your talk and go viral, i just need this love spiral.

the pair had found themselves in a corner, talking and giggling over pizza whilst telling stories. “yeah! and she kept asking when i was going to settle down and get married. during an interview for a horror movie.” tom shakes his head and laughs. “i couldn’t get through one promo or interview without someone showing me at-least one edit of me. it was torture.” you pull your phone out and show him how edits of him had filled your timeline.

“you’re literally everywhere. i’m not complaining but sometimes i want to see something else!” he picks his phone up and shows your his own home page. “i’m sorry i ruined your tiktok, but this might make up for it.” his entire for you page was filled with edits of you and you co-stars from your latest movie.

you laugh and watch them “i had no idea people made edits of me, i feel honored. it’s like a right of passage.” he sets his phone down as well as his pizza. “they only the use the same ten clips of you covered in blood, i need more content.” you place you own pizza down and lean towards him.

“do you wanna know a secret i’m not supposed to tell anyone?” he nods and leans closer. “i’m gonna in the next scream movie and i’m one of the ghostface’s, you’re gonna see me murdering on the big screen.” he raises his eyebrows and you barley take into account how close your faces are.

“i love everything you’re in. when i first met you, i went home and watched everything you’ve done.” he confesses with a smile and red eyes. “i did the exact same thing, rachel told me i was creepy! we’re like each others biggest fans.”

get it off your chest, get it off my desk. that lavender haze, i just wanna stay.

you’re sitting in the bathtub of your bathroom passing a blunt back and forth between you and tom. “it’s so much quieter in here, i love them but they’re so loud.” you say leaning your head back on the tile. he softly chuckles and looks at you. “i can’t believe we could’ve been hanging out for months, i should’ve just talked to you.” you smile and set the blunt in the ashtray you brought with you.

“yeah but where’s the fun in that? this is probably the best night i’ve had in a while.” you turn to look at him and you study his features. you’ve never had a chance to really look at him, your glossy eyes try to memorize each slope and curve of his face.

“can i kiss you?” you whisper out before even realizing you’ve said it. he mutters a small ‘yes’ and you’re leaning in, like your body’s on autopilot. he tastes like weed and pizza, you couldn’t find a bone in your body that cared. you sluggishly manage to inch onto his lap. “you’re so pretty.” he whispers in between kisses. his hands find purchase on your waist, not letting you even dream of getting off of him.

you reluctantly pull back and his lips chase yours. “do you wanna hang out tomorrow?” you ask him with a smile. “i would be honored, maybe i’ll take you out on a real date.” his hands are rubbing small circles on your waist. “the press is gonna love that one.” you mutter out before leaning back into him.

[luveline]

Eddie and Roan taking care of R when she gets sick?

thank you for your request! dad!eddie and his daughter roan taking care of almost stepmom!reader <3

"Still nauseous?" 

You look up from your makeshift den on the bathroom floor to Eddie's tall figure standing in front of you. He has the mouth of an open water bottle hanging between his fingertips at his hip, and a hopeful look on his ridiculously pretty face.

“You look nice,” you say. 

Eddie sits down on the floor beside you. It’s not every day he comes home smelling like diesel, but he had today, and the smell had turned your stomach unexpectedly. You worry he’ll still smell like it and try not to breathe in, despite his immediate shower after your first… eruption. 

“You always look nice,” he says, pressing the water bottle into your hand. 

He doesn’t have to ask you to drink. You take a bigger sip than you should, then another, swishing water around your mouth as your eyebrows pull together. 

“Not true,” you say as you swallow. 

“It is true.” He rubs down your cheek with the pad of his thumb. It’s not overly fond or anything, he’s just close enough and loves you enough that touching you is second nature. 

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

“No you’re not. And what does that have to do with looks?”

You’re close enough and love him enough that you know he won’t care if you hug him, despite your sick smell and puffy face. You ease your head over his shoulder and your arms around his waist, eyes wet but not crying. Life is full of a thousand different cause and effects but all you can feel right now is the abject unhappiness of having thrown up. It sucks. 

“Shouldn’t have eaten off of that food truck,” you mumble into his shoulder. 

You can feel the solidness of his arms against your upper back as he squeezes you lightly. 

“You’re not the first person to make that mistake,” he says. 

You feel sick, and you feel like an idiot, and your feelings are taking precedence now that your actions aren’t your own — you have no control over being sick, you can’t will your neck to stop aching from the strain. But you can take selfish comfort in the way Eddie’s shirt smells, relieved that the stick of diesel is gone. 

“You’re not an idiot. You’re just unwell, baby,” he says. You love how he says baby; it rolls off the tongue with his light-hearted tone. “You feel gross ‘cause you projectiled.”

You squirm in his arms. “Yikes.”

“Are you gonna throw up again?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Let’s get up. Go sit downstairs… away from the smell.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You can’t be sorry for throwing up. It’s like saying sorry for going number two.”

You snort. Roan’s not even in the room and he’s talking like a dad. “Wayne said you used to curse like a sailor ‘n’ now you won’t say crap?”

“I was the fucking worst,” he says, laughing before he’s finished at his overused joke. “But I learned my lesson when she started saying fuck at the park when the swings were taken.”

Eddie doesn’t need to help you downstairs, but he grabs a chunk of your shirt like that’ll stop you from splatting if you trip. Roan’s music becomes clearer with every step, until you reach the bottom, and the cassette mix Eddie made for her last week is crystal clear, along with her excited singing. She’s listening to Footloose, and she’s dancing around the living room with Teddy the pink rabbit. He’s missing one ear, has been since you met them, and you don’t have to wonder why. He’s swinging from her pale fist by the remaining ear at force.

“You’re back!” she cheers when she sees you. She stops spinning and, clearly dizzy, stumbles a few steps in your general direction. 

“You’re gonna make your brains mush,” Eddie says. 

“Like potatoes,” she agrees. “Is it time for Swan Princess?”

“Yes! It’s absolutely time for Swan Princess. But dinner, Ro, sorry dinner’s late. Are you super hungry?” Eddie asks. 

You make your way through a maze on the floor of dolls, dress up shoes and Lego bricks. Every toy she could pull out of her toy chest has been pulled. You barely flinch as you step on a pair of doll’s sunglasses, used to bric a brac by now. 

“Not super hungry. Me and Teddy had those ants on logs.”

“Yeah, babe, but that’s not dinner, that was just a snack,” Eddie says, arms held out to offer Roan a lift. She steps into his reach. He pulls her up to his chest. “We are practising listening to our body, right? What’s tummy saying?”

“Tummy is saying we should have macaroni and double cheese.”

“Do we have any cheese?” Eddie asks you. Roan’s princess dress today is much too small for her, a turquoise mass of satin that you’ve watched her grow out of over time. “Sorry, I should know.”

“We should probably break up,” you say agreeably. How dare he not know if there’s any cheese in the fridge. “I think there’s a huge chunk of it by the butter on the top shelf, but check the best before.”

“We’ll check,” Eddie says. 

They leave, supposedly to check the best before and make dinner, and you stretch out on the couch feeling fragile and sorry for yourself, as is your right. Everybody gets sick, there’s no point in punishing yourself for it, but you can’t help that slither of self-hatred every time you think of that gross food truck. Food trucks are amazingly convenient and mostly delicious, and usually don’t turn out so badly for you, but when you saw that guy in the front coughing into his hands you probably should’ve turned around and walked away. 

He wasn’t cooking, you argue with yourself. 

But he was in the truck. 

“Bah,” you say, pulling Roan’s small heart-patterned throw blanket over your lap. You’d been hot as a furnace when you got home, but now you’ve thrown up you’re wracked with chills.

Who goes to culinary related work with a sick bug? you lament. 

Roan races in with a bottle of water in her hands. “I brought this for you,” she says, stopping at your knees. Her skirt tickles your calves. 

“Hey, thanks,” you say, clearing your throat. “Dad find the cheese?”

“Yeah, he’s chopping it.” She relinquishes her hold on the water, takes a step back, and then takes a step forward. “Do you want a kiss?”

“I think a kiss might be a bad idea. I don't know if I’m sick because the food wasn’t cooked right or if it’s a bug.” You frown at her. “Thank you anyways, princess.”

“What kind of bug?” she asks with a wrinkled nose. There’s a dawning horror in her small eyes. 

“Not that kind. A germ. When people don’t wash their hands,” you explain. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Best not get too close to me.”

Roan looks at you steadily. She squares her shoulders, turns her face to the side to suck in a big breath, and then throws her arms across your thighs. She squeezes you rather roughly considering her child-appropriate level of strength, and then dives backward like she’s going to burst. 

“I love you, I’m going back to the kitchen!” she announces, short of breath. 

You end up dozing off uncomfortably on the couch to the sounds of Roan’s cassette, the TV, Eddie’s unintelligible rambling and the sound of a wooden spoon scratching the bottom of a saucepan. It’s a credit to you how you’ve learned to sleep through most anything, even sick as a dog. 

You’re woken up by a hand on your shoulder later. Eddie’s perched on the arm of the couch, looking down at you with plain pity. “Poor baby,” he says, only half making fun as he kisses your forehead. “Made you some toast.”

“I can’t eat.”

“It’ll make you feel better. Probably.” He puts a plate in your lap. He hasn’t gone overboard, it’s one slice of white bread with a scraping of butter. 

“Sorry for making a mess,” you say. You pick up a triangle of toast hesitantly. “Defeated by a three dollar burrito. It’s sad.”

“So sad,” he says. 

Eddie’s hand climbs to the nape of your neck. He traces your hairline messily with the tips of his fingers. 

“Did you eat?” you ask, nibbling your toast. 

“We did. We saved you some. I don’t know if you’ll want it, but Ro insisted.”

“Where is she?”

“She’s trying to decide which one of her plushies to give you tonight. In case you can’t sleep.”

You lean back against the couch cushions with a small smile. “That’s really nice. You made a good one, Munson.”

He puts his hand back on your shoulder, leaning in to give you a quick squeeze. The toast is toast, nothing special. It certainly doesn’t make you magically better but it doesn’t make you feel any worse, either, so you finish most of it and delight in your reward — Eddie noses your temple, his breath hot on your face as he says, “I’ve had help... Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll feel better soon.”

[solarmorrigan]

If you’re still taking prompts, could I ask for “please come get me” with Steddie?

I’ve read over all your other angst prompts and just about died this morning, you’re so good at the pain!!

Hello! :D Thank you for the prompt! I'm afraid this one is a little heavier on the comfort than the hurt, so perhaps not as much pain, but if you've been binging what I've written so far, maybe that's a good thing?? But anyway, I hope this is alright!

[Warning for implied child neglect/emotional abuse. Nothing really happens in the fic, but just as a heads up]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

-

Eddie shouldn’t be hearing this. This isn’t a conversation meant for spectators.

“I know you just got back from a trip, I just–” Harrington says into the receiver of the payphone, clinging to the handset as he practically wilts against the useless ‘privacy wall’ next to it. “I’m sorry, I was just hoping you could give me a ride home.”

All Eddie had wanted to do was cut the pep rally like any self-respecting social outcast would, except he couldn’t just ditch and go home; it’s Friday, and he has Hellfire after this. But the last thing he’d expected while loitering around outside, waiting for the pep rally to end, had been to stumble across Steve Harrington on the phone, practically begging someone for a ride home.

“No, I drove myself here today, I’m just not sure I can drive home.” Harrington pauses, then sighs. “No, Dad, this is a pep rally, I haven’t been drinking.” Whatever comes down the line next makes his posture snap straight almost immediately, before he hunches back in on himself with a wince and a hand pressed to his forehead. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

This is weird. This is so weird. Harrington is meant to be cocky – confident and in-charge and at ease, not curled around a payphone in the same way a kicked puppy tries to protect itself even as it asks someone for more attention.

Someone who is apparently his dad.

It’s just – weird. It’s like how you know a lemon is a citrus fruit, just the same as an orange, but the second you peel off the rind, you feel like you’ve seen something forbidden. Lemons aren’t meant to be peeled that way, and Harrington isn’t meant to look close to tears while trying to get someone to drive him home.

“I – I’m sick. I mean, it’s – I have a migraine,” Harrington explains haltingly. “No, it’s not just – yeah, my head hurts, but if it was just that, I swear I wouldn’t bother you, I just – I’m dizzy, and my vision’s all blurry, so I’m not sure I can drive, and I don’t…”

Shit, that sounds kind of fucked up. Eddie frowns, leaning against the wall he’s been peering around, now definitely intentionally eavesdropping. Harrington is frowning, too, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

“Tommy and I don’t hang out anymore, we haven’t in over a year,” Harrington says, then carries on a little more quietly, a little more subdued, “and there isn’t really anyone else here I can catch a ride with, either.”

Eddie will admit he hasn’t been paying a whole lot of attention, but anyone who doesn’t live under a rock knows that Harrington’s popularity had taken a bit of a hit last year, when he’d ditched Hagan and Perkins and decided to be a bit less of a dick. And then this year – well, even if Hargrove hadn’t crowed enough about the fight between the two of them, the state of Harrington’s face back in November had spoken volumes. Still, Eddie hadn’t been aware the condition of Harrington’s social life was so dire.

“I’m not – I’m not making this up, the doctor talked to you about this, he– I’m not trying to talk back, I just– Dad, please, can you just – please, come get me,” Harrington stutters through what sounds very much like a losing argument before going silent altogether, pressing one hand over his eyes as he lets his head hang, the other still holding the handset near his ear. “I understand,” he says dully after a minute. “I’m sorry. I’ll – I’ll figure it out… Yes, sir.”

It doesn’t seem like there’s much left to say after that. Harrington hangs up the phone and leans up against the adjacent wall before sliding down and sitting himself right there on the ground, knees drawn up and face in his hands.

Shit.

Eddie ducks back around the corner, gnawing on his lip, caught in indecision. He shouldn’t have overheard any of that, intentionally or otherwise, but now that he has, he can’t just – not do something.

Can he?

He tries to tell himself it’s not his problem, that Harrington’s certainly never done him any favors, even if he’d never been a dick to Eddie specifically, but it doesn’t work. All Eddie can see is the defeated slump of Harrington’s shoulders, the helpless way he’d just sort of dropped to the ground, the way he’d quietly admitted there’s no one else he can ask for a ride – Eddie’s always had a soft spot for the lonely ones.

But when he rounds the corner, prepared to come up with some bullshit excuse as to why he’s out here and willing to drive Harrington home, he finds that Harrington is – gone.

Eddie glances around, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere. Poof, vanished while Eddie had been too busy trying to decide what to do.

Well, damn.

Distantly hoping that Harrington had, indeed, figured something out, Eddie tries to put the incident out of his mind. The pep rally will be over soon, and that means Hellfire will begin, and he needs to get his head in the game.

He has no real reason to think on the incident after that, and he’s fairly successful at shoving it somewhere into the back of his mind until nearly two years later, in a setting so far removed from that spring day at the school that it might as well be in another life.

Eddie has to extricate himself from a few fans (actual fans; apparently, rumors of Satanism and returning form the dead will do wonders for the reputation of your metal band) in order to get up from the table settled near the back of The Hideout. Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver are all accounted for, enjoying their drinks and chatting with whoever’s descended upon them after their set, but Steve had disappeared ten minutes ago and has yet to make a reappearance.

Ten minutes isn’t all that long, Eddie knows logically, but after last year, after everything, it still feels a little too long. If he finds Steve and Steve tells him he’s fine, then that’s great, Eddie will leave him be. But he just wants to check.

The bathroom is a bust, empty but for one drunk swaying precariously in front of a urinal, so Eddie heads outside, where, around the side of the building, settled on the ground in a triangle of sodium-glow orange thrown off by a nearby streetlight, he finds his quarry.

Steve is sitting with his back to the rough wood façade of the bar, his knees drawn up in front of him and his head leaned back against the wall behind him. His eyes are closed, but there’s a little pinch of tension between his brows, and Eddie is abruptly reminded of that day, eons ago and not really that long ago at all, when all Steve had wanted was for someone to care enough to give him a ride home when he’d been sick.

Eddie finds his ass on the concrete right next to Steve before he even has the conscious thought to go over and sit down.

“Doing okay, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, picking up one of Steve’s hands from where it’s resting on his own knee (it’s safe enough right here, Eddie knows; someone would have to actively be looking for them to spot them where they’re tucked away).

If Steve is surprised to find Eddie beside him, he doesn’t show it. He turns to look at Eddie in the low light, offering him a fond little smile.

“I’m good. It was just getting to be a little much in there, so I came out here for a break,” he says.

Things like excessive noise and heat—say, the likes of which might be experienced at a concert in a crowded bar (or maybe a high school pep rally)—tend to be migraine triggers for Steve, so why he continues attending shows at The Hideout is beyond Eddie. He’s tried telling him that he doesn’t have to come, but Steve still insists he wants to make it to every performance that he can.

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand. “You wanna head out?”

Steve shakes his head. “You’re having a good time. I don’t want to take you away from that.”

“I’m not going to be having a good time if you’re miserable.” Eddie reaches up and cups Steve’s cheek in his hand, keeping him facing in Eddie’s direction. “You’re a priority for me, you know that, right? Say the word, and we’ll go home.”

It doesn’t seem like Steve has anything to say to that; instead, he just stares at Eddie with something like wonder, as if Eddie’s just done anything more amazing than promise Steve that he’ll never have to beg for basic consideration.

“Besides,” Eddie goes on, if for no other reason than to shift the sudden weight of Steve’s reverence, “it’s not like it would be a hardship.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to Steve’s willing mouth before he continues, speaking so close that their lips are brushing. “Getting to take you home, take you to bed, lie there in the dark, just the two of us…”

Steve presses in for another kiss, long and lingering, before pulling away.

“Let’s stay a little longer,” he says. “Jeff owes me a beer, anyway.”

“Y’know,” Eddie pauses with a grunt of effort as Steve stands and uses their joined hands to pull Eddie up after him, “the only reason you knew the movie he was referencing—and, thus, the only reason he owes you a beer—is because I made you watch it.”

“And? What do you want, a medal?” Steve snarks.

“Well,” Eddie drawls, glancing Steve up and down, “some token of appreciation wouldn’t be remiss.”

Steve raises an unimpressed eyebrow at Eddie. “It would be if we did it in the alley next to a bar.”

“Wow, Harrington, mind in the gutter much? I only meant a beer,” Eddie sniffs, all exaggerated offense.

“Sure you did,” Steve says. “Now c’mon; one more beer, and then… home?”

“You got it, sweetheart,” Eddie says, offering one more quick kiss in hopes of putting any hesitation out of Steve’s mind. “One more beer, and then home.”

[squirmhoney]

HIS MUSE | AEGON TARGARYEN

Please read all warnings carefully, my fics cover dark topic matters, that may be upsetting to certain readers. Read at your own discretion. Warnings: Dark. Dub son. Oral. Hand Job. Manipulation. Incest. Inexperienced reader. 18+ A/N: This is a request from @phimbkerthinker. I did change it a bit but I hope you like it. Sorry I have only proof read this once.

AS ALWAYS MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

-

“Just like that,” Aegon sighed, biting on his bottom lip as he backed away from your naked form on his bed. 

He knew what he was doing, playing on your adorable little crush on him. But how could he help himself when you were so easy to manipulate into his bed. Under the impression you were his muse for his new venture, that neither of your parents could know about. 

You were staring up at him with those doe eyes, nibbling on the inside of your cheek as you vibrated with nerves. He knew you were wet between your thighs, seeing as you couldn’t stop squeezing and rubbing them together, desperately trying to act subtle. 

“Something wrong?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed with faux concern. 

“It’s just-“ you said, only to shake your head. “It’s nothing, really.” 

“You’re so tense,” he tutted. “Relax.” 

You tried to, really tried, taking a deep inhale and exhale. But your body was so tense and rigid. 

His eyes ran over your body, eyes widening as he suddenly came up with an idea. 

And like a good girl, you ate the idea right up. 

Within a few minutes he managed to persuade himself between your thighs, even though your hand was desperately trying to hide what he wanted to see. 

“Aegon, I don’t know about this,” you whispered, eyes looking over to the door.

“Are you going to help me or not?” He questioned, narrowing his eyes at you. 

You nodded, lifting your hand slowly, dragging a swab of your juicy fluids with it. 

“So pretty,” Aegon hummed, licking his lips at the sight. 

He looked up to your face one more time, chuckling to himself at how your face flushed from the comment, before he dived face forward, not being able to stop himself from getting a taste. 

You were soaked, dripping onto Aegon’s face as soon as his tongue lazily dragged over your folds. It had him tight in his briefs, the taste making him feral as he groaned. 

He felt your thighs tighten around his face and without a second thought, he was gripping them tighter. 

When his tongue finally had enough of teasing you all over, he shoved it in your tight hole. You might have been unsure with what you were doing but your cunt wasn’t, your walls clenching around the muscle with excitement. 

“This doesn’t f-feel rel-relaxing,” you stuttered out, unable to stop yourself from fidgeting so much. 

“It will,” Aegon hummed into you, hand sliding up to your breast. His fingers rolled over your nipple, gently squeezing it, making you sharply inhale. “Trust me.” 

Either you trusted him, or you were too dizzy on the tip of his tongue to do anything about it. 

He believed it was the latter when he spat on your clit, and you moaned for him, gazing down at him with half lidded eyes. 

“Looks like you’re enjoying this,” Aegon grinned, your fluids coating his lips. “Being such a good muse for me, aren’t you niece?” 

There was a gentle hum from you, some sort of an agreement that had Aegon dipping his head down again. The tip of his tongue was done with the teasing, finally finding your sensitive bundle of nerves as it lapped at it. 

Even though Aegon knows your mind must be reeling, he couldn’t stop thinking about how all this was driving him insane. Your whimpers and the obscenely wet noises coming from your cunt filled the room, going straight to his dick. He actually believed he could cum from sending you over the edge, knowing how hard you were probably going to cum on his mouth for the first time. 

The idea of it had him licking at your harder, wanting to really see what would happen. 

Only to have you try to wriggle away from his harsh grip on your thighs, whining about it being… 

“Too much,” you repeated, your legs quivering. “Please, its-“ 

Aegon shoved his thumb into your walls, shutting you up. 

He could tell it was a lot for you though, especially with the way your spongy walls were pulsating around him. If he wasn’t enjoying it so much, he might have actually felt bad. 

It’s his name that’s ripped from the back of your throat as you cum all over his face, making him grin into you as he slurped everything your cunt was able to offer him. Until you were tearing his head away with your hand in his hair, tears spilling out of your eyes. 

“You did so good for me,” he whispered, pressing lingering kisses against your thighs. 

Your breathing was starting to steady, your body becoming slack. 

“See how you’re relaxing now?” Aegon soothed, climbing over your body till he was hovering over you. 

He didn’t realise how messy his face was until you were wiping it away with your hand. He leaned into your touch, with a deep sigh. 

“But now I have a bit of a problem,” he told you while running his so-called problem against your thigh. “I’m going to need your help with my problem.” 

Your eyes looked up at him with an eagerness to please, nodding your head before he even asked his question. 

“You going to help me?” 

“Yes,” you replied ever so quickly. 

He took your hand, pulling it down as it trailed down his stomach. He didn’t even waste time as it reached the waistband of the joggers he was wearing, pushing your hand in the article of clothing. Till you were touching him, hand resting against his cock with so much uncertainty. 

“Are you sure?” Aegon teased, helping your hand as he wrapped it around him. 

“Yes,” you lowly breathed, the tips of your ears turning a crimson red. 

“Stroke it,” he guided you, getting your hand to move around him. “Just like that.” 

Your lips parted as you stared up at him in awe, clearly enjoying how he was reacting to your hand moving against him. You even giggled when he hissed at you squeezing him a bit harder, taking control finally. 

“You find this funny?” 

“I’ve never seen you like this,” you confessed, clearly wanting to see more. 

Your fingers accidentally closed around his tip, before sinking back down again, and the smallest touch against his tip had him gasping. Instinctively you rubbed your thumb against his head again, wanting to have him panting like you had been moments ago. 

Without realising what you were truly doing to him, you had him coating your hand with his cum. He was in a daze above you, white hair tickling your face as he collapsed on top of you. It wasn’t till he was softening against you did your hand stop, pulling it out of his clothing. 

“Did I help you?” You asked, a small smile gracing your lips. 

One that Aegon couldn’t help but kiss softly. 

“You know that you helped me,” Aegon chuckled, lips trailing down your neck. 

“Are you going to paint me now?” You asked.

“Hmm.” Aegon nipped at the skin of your breasts, tongue running along one of your nipples. “I think there’s still more ways we can help each other here first. Don’t you think?”

[strange-pass]

Hello! If you are willing, I am very much in need of some good ole fluff with my boy Solomon... Like MC confesses to him and he didn't really believe it because of the demon brothers and MC gets all super sweet and says something on the lines of "Yeah, they're cool and all, but they're not *you*" and just lists off all these things they love about Solomon.

I just really need him to understand he's loved because he deserves it 🥲

»•» 🌸Feelings for an Ancient Sorcerer🌸 «•«

credit for divider: @sweetparty

Pairing: Solomon x GN!Reader

Synopsis: MC feels like it’s time to tell Solomon how they feel. They feel a crushing sense of nervousness as they go through the day, since they aren’t sure how he’ll react.

A/N: Sorry if it seems like I took a while to write this! I went through a crushing headache two days in a row and couldn’t write anything in that time. I hope you find it to your liking! I added a little kiss at the end since he deserves one. Decided to change up a couple things in terms of adding stuff to my title, and a tiny divider at the end of the fic because it looks cute. My boy Solomon needs more love in the OG game and in Nightbringer, if i’m being honest, I didn’t love him as much as I did until that scene in Nightbringer when he was standing up for humankind. He was so amazing in that lesson and I hope we see more of that in the future! That’s all I have to say, have a lovely day!

Requesting here

Genre: Romantic fluff, a tiny bit of hurt/comfort. No warnings!

Word count: 1470+ words

°•. ✿ .•°

While getting changed, straightening your clothes, making sure your hair looks decent, you could hear a loud pounding coming from your chest and your stomach tied in a knot. You were a bit hesitant to ask Solomon if he wanted to take a walk in Diavolo’s garden today, you wanted to keep it on the down low so you two could hang out in peace. Well… the intention wasn’t exactly to hang out, of course you wanted to, but it was time to tell Solomon how you felt. Whenever you were with him, your heart overfilled with fear and joy to the point where you couldn’t touch him in the slightest without flushing red. You wanted to know how he felt, even if you got rejected, you to let him know of the joy in your heart when you see him.

“Hey, I had some free time today and I wanted to ask if you wanted to take a walk in Diavolo’s garden?”

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw that he opened your message right away. Darn… he was fast. The typing bubble on Solomon’s end made you restless. Waiting for him to reply felt like an eternity.

“MC! I wouldn’t mind a walk at the moment.”

“But unfortunately I have some business to take care of at the moment.”

“I’ll come pick you up once I’m finished up here, it shouldn’t take long.”

You were a bit impatient, but relieved since you had time to prepare yourself mentally.

Waiting around for Solomon was agonizing, you tried to distract yourself by working on other things, but all you could think of was him. In the end, you ended up pacing around the room, thinking of what you were going to say. It made you hot and dizzy when you kept pacing faster and faster, with your mind racing at the same pace. A knock at the door made you jump a bit, suddenly not feeling ready for this. You look at your phone and realize he texted you a bit ago, telling you that he was coming.

Before you could open the door, it seemed like he opened it faster.

“It’s so glad to see you! The whole ordeal I just went through was exhausting, it’ll be nice to walk around with you. Did you want to walk to the garden first, or take our time and look at other things?”

You’d rather get the confession out of the way first, since you couldn’t wait any longer. Delaying it would only make the whole experience more painful than it is because the knot in your stomach was getting tighter, and it only made you feel sick.

“Hey Solomon! Uh, why don’t we head straight to the garden first? It’s the perfect time of day since the fireflies with the blue butts come out, I’d hate to miss them.”

Your voice was a bit shaky, He could tell something was off with you but decided not to mention it.

“Ah of course! Let’s head over right away then.”

As you start heading over to the Demon Lords Castle, you might as well make conversation.

“So what kind of business were you taking care of?”

“Oh… the usual, Mammon practically begged me to get a witch off of his back. He said that she kept following him, and said he didn’t understand why.”

“I can kind see where this is going now..”

“Haha! So you can tell that Mammon owed her something and needed me to confront her so a deal of theirs wasn’t broken?”

His chuckle was so sweet to listen to, it’s too bad that they only call him when they need him.

“It’s definitely a classic Mammon situation that he’d get in to, heh”

You were about half way to the castle and getting a bit antsy. Were you really about to tell Solomon that you loved him? He’s an ancient sorcerer, someone to admire, it’s only sensible that he’s heard countless other confessions. One thing you understood is that even if he rejected you, he wouldn’t be any more awkward with you.

Solomon could tell you were nervous, not only could he see it in your mannerisms, he could feel it radiating off of you. He put a hand gently on your back and smiled, his own little way of reminding you that everything is alright. It made you feel a bit better, even if he didn’t understand what was going on with you, he still tried to ease your nerves through his sweet touch.

The garden was practically open to the public since Diavolo wanted to share the beauty of nature to everyone. A little secret was that the garden keepers grows the plants with a certain type of chemical, and that chemical prevents visitors from harming the plants when they come into contact with the gas that’s released since it gets absorbed through the skin. You picked the garden because many Devildom specialties grew there, they had arrangements of large flowers, small flowers, vines that are grown then used for decoration, and trees that were the home of many small animals that you’ve never laid eyes on. It created the perfect atmosphere for a confession.

“Oh wow! We picked the perfect time to come here MC, it looks beautiful..”

Solomon walked towards a giant flower and touched its silky petals.

“I never come here often, I never realized how many rare species of plants grew here. It’s really enchanting.”

Now was the moment, you had to tell him before you backed down. He looked especially handsome with blue light illuminating his face, could you really tell him?

“Uh… Solomon, there’s actually a different reason I brought you here, I hope you excuse my hidden motives.”

He looked at you with a curious glint in his eyes, patiently waiting for what you were going to say with a smile on his face. He knew you wouldn’t try to hurt him, he knows the feeling of someone with malice, but you had the completely opposite aura around you.

“Listen… this is a bit difficult to say, but I like you Solomon. I really like you and I’ve been meaning to tell you for a bit now.”

You had a stare that wouldn’t stray from his face, and watched for any signs on his face. The only thing you could observe was pure shock. He stopped moving entirely, with his eyes wide, processing the information. You were afraid you did something wrong, until he spoke.

“MC, stop kidding around…”

You could feel your stomach drop, did you make a mistake?

“Because I don’t think I could handle it if you didn’t reciprocate my feelings towards you.”

…

“…Huh?”

All you could manage was confusion.

“I guess I’ve always had a hunch that you liked one of the brothers, you’re always with them, so I understand why you would. I apologize if that’s a bit presumptuous of me to admit..”

Solomons voice was lower than usual, you could tell he didn’t fully believe your confession. You couldn’t comprehend what you were hearing, he liked you back, but thought you liked the brothers more than him? You gently grabbed his shoulders and spoke with a softer tone.

“Please don’t misunderstand me.. I really like the brothers.. but they aren’t you Solomon!”

His look changed to one of hope, but you needed him to know more. You needed him to know how much you adore him.

“You’re so smart, I’ve never met anyone with as much knowledge as you. It’s really admirable and I’m so happy that you share that limitless knowledge with me. You always make sure to teach me new facts, and take time out of your day to help me learn magic.. You’re so considerate to how I feel, and it’s so.. wonderful how you stand up for yourself and protect others around you. You’re cheeky and it’s so hilarious, you make such interesting food because of your creative mind, and-“

Solomon pulls you into a tight hug before you can finish your speech. You wrapped your arms around him, and made sure that you weren’t going to let him go.

“The point is, I really.. really like you, you have no idea how happy I am that you feel the same way…”

You let him know. Solomon squeezed you before he lifted his head up to look at your face.

“Of course I do, you’re such a charmer MC, really. You can captivate anyone, but I’m glad that your heart chose me out of anyone.”

You giggled a bit, you wouldn’t choose any one else over him, he’s crazy for thinking otherwise. Both of you leaned closer to each other with bright red faces. As you sealed your confession with a soft and longing kiss, it seemed like the gardens light grew softer. When you pulled away from each other, he grabbed your hand and interlocked his fingers with yours.

“You mean so much to me, thank you for choosing me. Never leave my arms again..”

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

[chaoticbardlady99]

HI FIRST OF ALL LOVE YOUR WRITING second of all ! kind of specific but may I request an astarion x reader/tav where like. 90% of their time with the companions reader/tav hasn’t been able to see all that well- like. they can see colors and sort-of shapes but most details are completely incomprehensible, and through some method or another (probably someone’s attempt at “removing the tadpole” or smthn but up to you!) they’re finally able to see clearly and they’re just. completely amazed because EVERYTHING (astarion) is so beautiful actually??

Like Nothing I’ve Seen (Astarion x GN! reader)

CW- Mentions of gore and violence (due to Volo being a socially incompetent goofball) , self-esteem issues because I’m an insecure queen myself and like to deal with my feelings through my OCs

I tried to write a body neutral reader as well so everyone can imagine themselves in this story! I hope I was able to pull that off.

Title inspired by the song “Beautiful Things” by Grayscale

Hello! I am so sorry this took so long. Work has been kicking my whole ass lately!!!

This has not be thoroughly proof read so I may make changes as I find them, but I was too excited to post it! I hope you enjoy!

Being a monk is hypothetically supposed to help your pain tolerance- ya know, zen and shit.

Except, you quickly learn that a crossbow bolt to the eyeball is enough to break your zen.

Lae’zel and Shadowheart’s fighting quickly subsides as you stare at the two blobs out of your (now) one only good eye- good being a stretch. Admittedly, of all the people this could have happened to, it’s probably a good thing it was you since your eyes don’t really work anyway.

The purple, silver, and black blob (who you have come to know as ‘Shadowheart’) comes running towards you, her movements frantic as she begins to try to bandage your eye. You wince as she starts to remove the crossbow bolt.

“I am so sorry,” Shadowheart says, the distress evident in her voice, “if only that gith would stop being such a problem.”

Shadowheart practically screamed the last bit, but at least you are in too much pain for the shrill sound of her voice to bother you. You never wanted to find out if eyeballs could throb- you missed the hours before breakfast when you were blissfully ignorant to the true capabilities of your eyeballs.

The hostile green ball, Lae’zel, comes charging over with an insult sitting on the tip of her tongue before another blob knocks her aside.

“Walk it off Lae’zel,” you hear Karlach say with heavy amounts of exasperation.

Lae’zel grumbles as she storms off; Shadowheart continues to slowly work on you as you wince, whimper, and feel the tears start to fall.

“What did you do?!”

The rage in his voice rattles your bones- if tones could kill, Shadowheart would have keeled over. The radiant blob of your lover is in Shadowheart’s face (at least you hope it’s her face).

“Fangs, put them away!”

“Oh? Were you this anal when they were SHOOTING CROSSBOWS KARLACH?!”

You are beginning to feel dizzy and the yelling isn’t helping. Shadowheart, Karlach, and Astarion are arguing relentlessly- Karlach attempting to mediate. At some point Gale and Wyll join the mix- you think they are trying to hold back Astarion, but you aren’t sure.

In all the chaos, you are unaware of Volo coming up behind you- a solution brewing in his brains.

“Don’t worry my friend,” He explains with gusto, “I can fix this!”

Before anyone can protest, Volo rips the bolt out- your eyeball coming out with it before Volo plops a spherical object in your lap.

“Tada!”

The blood curdling scream that rips through your throat as you clutch at your eye socket surprises even you. In the midst of the white, hot pain- you hear Volo running off , also screaming, away from what you think is Astarion.

You feel Shadowheart grab the spherical object from your lap as Karlach holds you down on the ground.

“Sorry Soldier, but this is probably going to hurt.”

Oh and it hurts.

Shadowheart is wiggling the eye roughly into your eye socket, apologizing the entire time. You feel your socket form around the new eye. The pain from the removal and the new addition begins to subside into a dull ache as the new eyeball makes itself at home in your head- healing energy radiating from it and Shadowheart’s palm.

You feel like you are going to throw up, pass out, or go into a fit of hysteria by the time you start trying to blink your eyes open. You stare down at the grass below you and watch as a red bug with black spots walks along one of the blades before taking flight.

You freeze- the world is definitely not blobbish anymore. You run your fingers through the soft, green grass.

Has it always looked this way?

“How is the new eye?” Shadowheart says nervously.

You look over at her and try to stifle your shock.

Shadowheart is stunning and Karlach is just as awe inspiring as Shadowheart.

“Are you okay, Soldier?”

Sometimes you forget that your companions don’t know about your vision issues. You are able to hide your vision deficit well due to your years of training as a monk teaching you how to rely heavily on your other senses and the energy in the air.

You have come to adore all of your companions for their personalities, their laughs- Astarion especially. However, now you understand why perfect strangers come up to your companions with enamored voices.

“You catch him, Fangs?” Karlach says in a teasing town.

You hear Astarion scowl, “the bastard ran off and disappeared before I could even get near him.”

Astarion appears out from the corner of your eye and kneels in front of you. You try so hard to keep the surprise and adoration from showing on your face. His eyes bore into yours with an emotion that is not recognizable. A tick of frustration flares in your mind- now you have to learn an entirely new set of rules for social interaction.

Except, you’ll deal with that later. For now, you have a literal God kneeling in front of you, his hand cupping your cheek and surveying your new eye.

Gods he’s incredible.

“You’re beautiful,” you whisper involuntarily.

As the blush spreads along your cheeks, Astarion breaks out in a bright, beautiful smile.

“Well that settles it, your vision is working just fine!”

He gives you a quick kiss on your lips- your face feels like it’s on fire.

It has been a little over a week since the tiefling party. He had been distant with you initially after your midnight tryst and you had felt quite broken over it. Well- until you had been spending time with Gale at the campfire talking about the Monastery you grew up in and his experiences with the weave. Astarion had barged into the conversation, sat down next to you, and had practically pulled you into his lap next to the campfire. After that night, you’ve become inseparable- sleeping in each other’s tents, more midnight trysts, cuddling, spending the whole night talking or playing games. You spend alone time with your other companions- he would never control you or dictate who you spend time with. He would spy on you and Gale, but he would never prevent you from talking to him.

“No my dear, I trust you. I just don’t trust the boot muncher.”

“You really need to stop saying that,” your serious demeanor cracking, “he doesn’t actually eat the boots.”

He snickered, “oh ya? Then why have we never seen them after he absorbs them? And yet everyone judges my feeding habits!”

Astarion helps you up off the ground and you are dizzy from all the new stimuli around you. His hands find purchase on your hips as he helps steady you. You take advantage of the support and look around your camp.

It all looked exactly how you did and did not imagine. Your brain feels like it’s having a war between what your senses tell you about the land versus what your eyes are saying. You can label everything in the camp because you know where it is based on location, but none of it looks like the way you had anticipated- in fact, it was all far more breathtaking than you imagined.

“What are you thinking about Darling,” he whispers against your ear.

A pleasant shiver runs down your spine, a smile consuming your face.

“I was thinking it might be fun to go explore around camp and make sure my eye is really working.”

He stares at you with an unreadable expression, “I’m sure the environment and your sight hasn’t changed that much?”

Ah, that look means confusion.

“Don’t be such a pessimist,” you put your hand on your hip and flash a grin, “besides, it’s not like I asked you to go with me.”

*******************************************

Astarion walks leisurely behind you as you make a point of touching anything you can reach. He thought you were the most normal one at camp (mentally at the very least), but he is beginning to think he misjudged you.

You are twirling around the forest like you’ve never been in one before. You ask him questions about specific objects and express a great deal of interest in everything you come across- you even find the rocks interesting. While he did find the strangeness to be odd, he still couldn’t help but relish in the genuine, innocent joy on your face. Astarion feels an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout his body while he watches you as you bound around the forest floor.

Astarion is slowly recognizing that his plan is unraveling, but only a little bit. He had thought you would be the lovesick puppy chasing him around camp, but, as Karlach has pointed out to him, it’s the opposite.

He finds himself always making an inventory of where you are in relation to him, who you are talking to, and your feelings- even the ones he is currently disrespecting by attempting to gain your undying protection.

Now Astarion is here- watching you follow a bumble bee towards a large Oak tree.

As you stop and make a point of sitting down under a tree, you touch the various flowers scattered in the grass and excitedly chat about the details of the flower. Astarion silently sits next to you with a smile and takes a look at your face- you look like a blind man seeing for the first time. The realization hits him like an eldritch blast.

“Darling?”

You hum.

“Have you not been able to see until today?”

Astarion watches as you tense up and your eyes meet his. Astarion struggles to discern the look in your eyes- it’s somewhere between fear and apprehension. He offers you a small smile before you break eye contact with a sigh.

“I, um, was sick as a baby. My mom left me outside of a monastery. I guess whatever I was sick with attacked my vision so I could only really see colors and the basic outlines of the things,” Astarion looks at you as if to encourage you to go on so you continue, “it’s never affected me though. The monks taught me how to use my other senses and taught me how to sense energy in the air.”

Astarion is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that a. He was right and b. You slept with him without knowing what he looks like? C. You are easily the second strongest in your little gang of weirdos and the entire time you could barely see.

“So when you told me I was beautiful last week?”

You blush and hide your soft grin. He hears your heart begin to race.

“I really did mean it then,” you pause,” but it’s a different kind of beautiful. I think you are a very good person- I just adore you. Your smile, your laugh, your personality- even the snarky bits. Or when you are at your absolute worst.”

You pause and give him a joking smile, “You are a real pain in the ass though. I didn’t know why everyone is so enamored with you, but now I can see why all those tiefling women kept flirting with you at the party now though.”

He tries to hide the frown that threatens to reveal itself and he sees the panic flash in your eyes.

“Not that I’m saying you are nothing but your looks because that is not true,” you bite your lip, “I just know I came to like you for who you are on the inside and that was…. Quite the experience.”

“Are you suggesting I’m an acquired taste?!”

“Hmmm,” you tap your chin, “ I suppose that is exactly what I’m saying.”

“I am truly heartbroken darling, I thought we had something special.”

He huffs playfully and pretends to be upset- ignoring the butterflies in his stomach. Astarion’s heart clenches as you look at him with the same warmth he is feeling. You break eye contact from him and he can’t help but feel disappointed.

“We do, you’re just lucky I’m a monk and I’ve been forced to practice patience my whole life.”

Astarion is lost for words as he turns over what you just said in his head. You scratch the back of your neck and start talking again.

“And not to mention, you deserve someone who is going to take the time to know you for you- not just adore you for what you look like. You are really one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met Star.”

We do. Incredible. Star.

His body feels like it might explode from the chaos of emotions spirals through his body. He thinks maybe the effects of the tadpole are wearing off because he feels like he is burning alive. He fights the urge to take you right there in the flowers.

A couple minutes later, you look up at him again- that same fear in your eyes, but also some hope. After you realize he isn’t going to say anything, you speak again.

“I am not entirely sure why you have gravitated towards me, but I really like you. I understand if you don’t feel the same way and we can just go back to being friends,” you pause, “and you won’t lose my protection. I still intend on helping you be free of Cazador once and for all.”

You look away from him, hands fiddling with the flowers. Astarion is still digesting everything you just said to him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t reciprocate your feelings (even if he refuses to admit he does), he just doesn’t… deserve someone like you.

He had always been under the assumption that monks were stuffy and by-the-book. You had taken him by complete surprise. You are slyly funny, have no problems with bending the rules if it means helping someone (he doesn’t care for the intent of bending the rules, but he likes bending the rules), and you are accepting. You aren’t neutral with your feelings unless you are trying to mediate an argument or make the best decision for the group.

He appreciates how blunt you are in private- he never has to try to guess what’s on your mind. You make him feel safe like no one else has for the last 200 years.

How could I not gravitate towards you?

It also occurs to him that you have never seen yourself- how your eyes twinkle when you smile or the dimples that grace your cheeks. You hadn’t even seen your body- the same body he was starstruck by and, despite the dissociation and icky feelings, he was able to enjoy the sex between you to some extent.

He gets up from his spot on the ground next to you- your shoulders slightly slumping in defeat.

“Oh stop being so dramatic darling,” he teasingly smiles at you, “get up- I have something to show you.”

***************************************

You blindly follow Astarion to his tent- you had asked him what he wanted to show you the entire walk back, but he refused to disclose that information.

Once you were in camp, Astarion had wrapped some cloth around your eyes before dragging you in the direction of his tent.

“Now you stay right here- don’t move a muscle.”

“Oh you mean like-“

He interrupts you by swatting your hand away from his curls. You pout playfully and he pulls you to his chest before kissing you deeply. You are shocked by his actions and his gasp of surprise tells you he is just as shocked too. You feel him pull back as you start to melt against him, your hands tangled in his hair. An impatient whine escapes your lips. He chuckles.

“No, no, no,” he says, “not yet. Now stay still or there’s no more kisses for you.”

“No more kisses!?”

“You heard me!”

You stay still- the threat is more than enough to convince you to stop. You can hear and sense Astarion rustling around the tent, placing various objects of different vibrations all around his tent. It feels like it takes eons as he readjusts and moves the objects around. Finally, Astarion hums with approval.

“Alright darling, you can take the blind fold off now.”

You take off your blindfold eagerly and your eyes adjust to the warm light in the tent. As you look around, you see that Astarion had set up every mirror he owns all around the tent.

Mirrors.

You stare back at who you can only presume to be yourself. You take in all your features- dissecting yourself. The longer you stare at yourself, the unhappier you become.

You know that Astarion’s intent is good (or you hope it is), but you can’t help the frown that takes place on your face. You are so plain in comparison to Astarion and everyone in camp. Why would he want to be with you when he could have someone as stunning as Shadowheart? Someone equally as interesting to look at?

“What’s wrong,” Astarion says with alarm in his voice.

You suddenly become aware of the hot tears running down your cheeks as Astarion cups your face with his hands. You shake your head, crying harder as he wipes your tears away.

“Darling, please.”

The desperation in his voice causes you to finally meet his eyes, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“ I’m so plain looking,” you state with venom in your voice, “the rest of you are all beautiful in unique ways and I just look like everyone else.”

He scowls, shaking his head at you.

“That is not even slightly true.”

He twirls you around in his arms and has you facing the mirrors again. You have to remind myself that he is behind you still as you feel his fingers trace the details of your face (it would really ruin the moment if you elbowed him in the ribs).

“No one shines like you do. No one smiles like you or laughs like you- crinkles their eyes when they are happy like you. You are funny and intelligent; and by the Gods you are powerful. The fact that you have been fighting blind this whole time is absolutely incredible. You, darling, are a force of nature,” he puts his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the delicate skin, “I may say a lot of honeyed words, but I wouldn’t say them if they weren’t true.

“And, in all my 200 years of living, I must say, you are like no beauty I have ever seen before.”

You can’t help but smile brightly and you try to look at yourself the way he sees you. Maybe you can see the person he is referring to, but you just need more time to get used to actually seeing yourself. Maybe with time, you will be able to see how brightly you shine too- you’ll just have to work at it.

You smile at yourself softly and say a quiet you’re wonderful to yourself before looking away from the mirrors.

You turn around and give Astarion a soft, long kiss- he sighs into it, meeting your tempo until you pull away; Breathless like a fish out of water. He puts his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes.

“Thank you, Astarion- I think you shine too.”

[nathaslosthershit]

We need to try that again|| Jack Hughes x reader

Pairing: Jack Hughes x reader

Warnings: I never know what warnings to give, kissing (?)

Summary: In the heat of the moment, you kiss your boyfriend. The only problem? It was your first kiss with each other and he doesn’t feel he got to “savor” it enough. What a dork.

A/n: This is corny I know and probably so far from what Jack is like but let a girl be delusional. 

Word Count: 800+

You and Jack would be cooking a meal together, alone and in the comfort of your own home. Or, maybe he would play an intense and very important game where he scored the game winning goal in OT and you two would meet afterwards, running into each other's arms like it was a cheesy romance film. Maybe he'd take you to a nice dinner and before getting into the car ask “can I kiss you?”

Maybe these fantasies were stupid to spend your time thinking about but after almost a month of dating Jack, almost a month without a single kiss, you had been hoping for something romantic and sweet to mark your first of, hopefully, many kisses. But there has been nothing. Nada. You have been patient and were happy to wait longer for him but just wanted to know, why? Why has it taken so long for him to kiss you?

But now that you think about it, you could easily kiss him first. Maybe it doesn’t matter if its sweet and well thought out. Maybe what you needed was a heated, spur of the moment kiss with your beautiful boyfriend.

But is that what you wanted, something not thought out? Didn’t you crave the anticipation of waiting knowing it was about to happen. Knowing that the butterflies in your stomach fluttered at the same velocity as the ones in his.

While lost in thought Jack had managed to finally reach your apartment. He was supposedly at practice. Actually there was no practice but that's what he told you so you'd be surprised when he came over with take-out and flowers. On his way over, he had to bite his lip to stop the stupid smile on his face, but the older woman passing by noticed it, as well as his urgency and the flowers in his hand, and gave him a knowing smile as she laughed while walking in the opposite direction. It was clear to everyone, those in his life and those just observing, that this relationship was different and he treated it as such. 

He enjoyed the feeling of getting almost dizzy from all the excitement of being around you. It was new and so unlike anything he'd had with anyone else in the past. That's why he couldn’t get himself to make any new moves. It's scary to act when you feel something so intensely. 

Opening the door to reveal a very smiley Jack Hughes was a very shocking but very welcome surprise. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Wow come on don’t be too excited to see me” he replies snarkily. 

“Im sorry, I just thought you'd had practice, you did tell me you had practice, did you not?”

“I did but I didn’t have practice. Wanted to surprise you so I stretched the truth a little. You aren’t upset about that, right?” He suddenly looked worried.

In that split second, you had made up your mind. Grabbing his collar and kissing him deeply, he drops the bag of food and flowers from impact. The noise they made startled you enough to come to your senses. As you quickly pull away, you can see a mix of confusion, panic, and possibly lust on his face. His silence snaps you out of your post kiss daze enough to start freaking out.

“Shit, Jack. I don't know what- I wasn’t thinking, i'm so-”

“We need to try that again.” 

“Excuse me”

“You just kissed me”

“...I did”

“Quickly.”

“I guess”

“I didn’t get to savor it.” He coughs out. At this admission, his face is bright red and grows an even deeper red when he hears your laugh.

“Savor it? Oh my god, Jack, what romcom did you take that line from?”

“You know what? Maybe i'll enjoy these flowers and this food by myself if you want to-”

“Just get inside, Jack. I'll kiss you again but only if we aren't standing in the hallway for all my neighbors to see.”

When you pull him in and close the door, you realize this is what you had hoped for. Shared butterflied as you look at one another, waiting for the other to make a move, knowing what was next and being as excited as you were nervous for it. 

Finally he pulls you in.

“Much better” Jack mumbles against your lips.

[mimi-vya]

Sleepless Night

Tighnari x Sleepdrunk/Reader

You sighed in annoyance pulling your hair out of your scalp.

“I don’t get it! Well no…I do but still…” You grumbled in annoyance.

Your back hurt, your hands and wrist hurt from all the sitting and writing trying to cramp for your upcoming test. The Akademyia class you were in had a upcoming test which was…tomorrow…and it late night.

“I should have studied earlier…I shouldn’t have fallen asleep earlier…”

You groaned on your desk defeated, your eyes felt so tired that they felt like they were gonna close at any minute. Not to mention you had a massive headache that wouldn’t go away for the life of you.

“Should make more coffee…” You tiredly said and got up only to stumble on your desk and drop all your equipment and papers on the floor.

“Not again…” You mumbled not when your heard a laugh across the room near your door. You jolted and looked up to see who it was.

“T-tighnari!” You muttered out face turning red.

“Relax, here I’ll help you.” He offered his help.

“No! It’s okay! Just regular clumsy me…” You stated.

“Cute…” He muttered but you were unable to catch him.

“Pardon?” You asked politely.

“Nothing.” He simply said with a slight smile that turned into a smirk after seeing your confused expression.

“Are you still studying?” He asked looking over your table.

“A-ah yeah…” He picked up your paper and placed them down your desk and you did the same too.

“Thank you…well I need to go-!” You started to try and walk off but Tighnari’s hand stopped you.

“Where are you going?”

“Uh…I need to uhh make coffee…”

“Didn’t you just make a cup earlier?”

“N-no…”

He then sighed, “If you’re going to lie, at least try and sound convincing and cover up the fact that your cup is right here.” He scolded grabbing my cup from my desk with a hand on his hip.

“Haha…uhh Karkata made that for drinking…”

“For who? You or Karkata?” He asked with a slight smile.

“Karkata…” You tried lying but there was no use.

“I don’t think Karkata can drink that type of thing.” He said in tone like he was offended a bit by your horrible lie, who were you kidding nobody would fall for that lie maybe a child but Tighnari…

“Cute you thought I would fall for it or no?” He hummed.

“N-no!” You muttered out but in reality you were hoping he bought your terrible lie.

“Uh huh.”

“Okay fine…Karkata didn’t make it…I did…”

He hummed as he placed the cup down.

“Lying is bad Y/n.” He scolded like he was saying it to a child.

“I know, I know…”

“Then why did you lie?”

“W-well- because! You would stop me if I made another cup of coffee right?”

“Maybe? But now that you lied, yes.”

“H-huh! That’s not fair!”

“Fair to me, you’re the one who lied with a terrible lie to. Did Cyno teach you that?”

“No…he would probably say, “Nah, I lied because it brewed in my head like my coffee…that makes no sense…okay maybe I can’t copy his jokes but still..”

Tighnari sighed heavily, “Well it was…alright…” Now he lied, it was bad but he couldn’t say that to you.

“Just admit it’s bad…or else you’re the one who’s lying now…” You replied making Tighnari’s scoff.

“Fine it’s bad. Rather tell the truth then lie I guess in this situation. Anyways out of track.” He said then continued. And you stood there not even listening much since your head was hurting more now but then, you felt the pain in your head get worse causing you to lose balance and stumble but Tighnari’s arms were there to catch you.

“Woah, be careful. Are you okay?” He asked concern now written all over his face.

“I’m okay…just a bit dizzy…” You winced in pain a bit.

“Is your head hurting?”

You stood there silent taking in his scent finally realizing you’re resting your head on Tighnari’s chest causing you to retract back.

“Ah sorry-no no! I’m okay just a bit tired that’s all!” You tried to reassure pulling away from his embrace as Tighnari let’s go almost hesitantly.

“Tired.” He scoffed. “Your face is paler now than before.”

“I’m fine…”

“Stop lying you idiot! You aren’t fine.” He finally snapped.

“Do you think not sleeping is going to help you get a higher score on your test?” He yelled.

You stood there not knowing what to say…

“Look Tighnari…please don’t yell…” You said with a frown, your eyes were so tired.

He then gently grabbed your head. “I’m sorry…I just…when you do things like this…stupid things like this, I can’t help but worry! You’ve been locked in your room the whole time today. You didn’t even bother to eat until Collei or I came to your room to give you something…”

“I know..but I promise I’m okay Nari…” You sleepily said you were less jumpy than before hand. Maybe it was his relaxing scent..? You go up to him and place your head on his chest again.

Giggling, “Hehe so soft…so warm…” you muttered then looking at him with a sweet and cute look on your face.

Tighnari only looked at you with a blank face but then it turned a bit red and he started to frown.

“Don’t say things like that with that kind of face…” He muttered out.

“Why? It’s true. You’re so warm and soft…and I like it…sometimes it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside that I-!” Tighnari quickly covered your mouth with his gloved hand shutting you up.

“Shhh…someone is here.”

“Hmm?” You hummed tiredly and gently removed his hand off.

“Who?”

“Probably one of the forest rangers.”

You weren’t listening much and stared at his lips while he talked but you were so out of it now. Before you knew it, you were leaning in towards his lips.

“Hey are you even listening-?!” He asked before he was met with a tired “hmm?”

Before he knew what was happening your lips were slightly touching while his breath hitched a bit.

You two stood there looking at each other and you took the first move and closed your eyes and kissed him. His lips were a bit soft and you didn’t see the shock expression on his face. You stood there kissing him and after he processed what was happening. He didn’t realize when he started kissing you back.

“Master Tighnari where are you…?” A young girl called out, it was Collei. “Ohh maybe he’s with Y/n?” She told herself you and Tighnari could hear her footsteps get closer and closer.

You only huffed out of breathe when Tighnari pulled you away.

“Y/n, have you seen Master Tighnari- oh there you are Master!”

“C-Collei, is something the matter?”

She only looked at you two and how close you were to each other.

“Am I…uh interpreting something…?” She asked with her innocent look.

“Nope, go ahead Collei. Y/n here was just being stubborn as ever to go get some rest anyways mind that, is there something you need?”

“Ah okay well, I wanted to ask if you saw if anyone took—?” She continued but you didn’t put any mind on it but only looked at the hand he has on your shoulder.

Still drowsy with sleepiness, you were taken in by his scent while looking at his lips again, imagining again to kiss them.

You got up in the middle of their conversation and tippy toed to Tighnari’s face aiming for his lips once more.

Tighnari was quick to catch you and blocked your lips with his gloved hand with a panicked but frustrated expression.

“What are you doing!” He whispered in your ear as Collei rambled about something of hers that was missing and saw as well however dense about what you were trying to do.

He proceeded to flick your forehead.

“Don’t lean into me, I know you’re tired but there’s a bed right there. Anyways, I think I saw Amir taking to the storage room. Look for it tomorrow alright? It’s already getting late and I don’t want you staying up late okay? It’s bad for you.”

“I know I know…I’m just worried about it…” She muttered softly.

“I’ll help you look for tomorrow okay? Now off to bed.”

“Okay…goodnight Master Tighnari and Y/n!”

“Goodnight Collei.” Tighnari sighed as you waved her a sloppy goodbye.

After Collei left Tighnari only looked away from you and pinched his nose temple, his eyebrows frowning.

“What were you thinking?! What if she walked in and saw us huh? And what’s with you all of sudden? This is why lack of sleep causes problems! If it were someone else they might have taken advantage of you or get upset with you!” He scolded as he ignored most of his lecture and only stared at his lips once again.

“Hey! You aren’t listening again…” His tongue clicked with annoyance with a frustrated look on his eye.

Once again you only leaned it and kissed him so needly. Pushing your lips into his causing him to stumble and fall to the ground with you on top of him. You pulled away and whispered, “I need more…” While gave in with a sign and started kissing you back.

You only looked at him after you two finally pulled away, his face was beyond red. His ears were now down like a sad puppy. By the looks of it, he seemed embarrassed to be seen like this.

You only grinned in a teasing manner and grabbed his ears still sleepy.

“What? Do you not want me to see you like this?”

He didn’t say anything but his ears twitched making you giggle.

You had enough fun and were too tired to tease him further.

You got off him as he also got up on his feet, still not making eye contact with you. That’s when you grabbed his hand.

“Hey what are you doing-!”

You dragged him to your bed as you both landed on your bed, him wrapped around your arms, softly embracing him.

“Wait- I’m too heavy-!”

“No…” You whispered, “I’ll rest if you stay with me…”

Finally giving in, “Alright you win.” You then mumbled, “I love you…” And quickly fell asleep leaving a dumbfounded but smiling Tighnari.

“Goodnight, I love you too…”

[auras-moonstone]

omg i love your ethan imagines so yk i have to request one!!! a gf!ethan x reader imagine based on the lines, “never was much of a romantic, i could never take the intimacy. and i know i did damage, cause the look in your eyes is killing me” from the song runaway by kayne west? (ignore that its a kayne west song i dont support his actions, and i do love taylor swift lolol) but its an angst where the reader and him are in like a complicated relationship where they both like each other but aren’t dating, and then the reader is their when he reveals himself in act 3? sorry if this request was long lol!! tysm 💖💖

hiii, i love your request and i love writing angst😫 i hope you enjoy it <3

hoax — ethan landry

word count: 1,686

pairing: gf!ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: y/n finds out the boy she loves is behind the killings, and thinks the love they had was a hoax.

warnings: angst. mention of death.

GROWING A LIKING TOWARDS Y/N HAD DEFINITELY NOT BEEN ON ETHAN LANDRY’S PLAN. He never even considered it a possibility, even though her dizzying smile and angelic laugh should’ve been enough warning signs. Ethan really thought it would be easy. Sure, Y/N was indeed super kind and funny—and she was lucky enough to have been out of Woodsboro during the murders, so the Kirsch family didn’t have a vendetta against her—, but the plan was the only thing on his mind so he never gave her a second thought outside of it.

Having juked the roommate lottery, he ended up sharing a dorm with Y/N, which meant spending most of his days with her as she was also his classmate. The plan was just to infiltrate the group through Y/N’s friendship. But her charm was inescapable, and soon enough Ethan’s eyes started to absentmindedly find her, his heart slowly began to pound faster whenever she was around, and his soul itched to maker her laugh, because he had grown addicted to that magical sound.

He didn’t have time to run, because he had fallen for her like an early spring snow—unexpectedly, shockingly but beautifully nonetheless. Y/N had swiftly entered his heart and mind to show him the romantic kind of love he had been missing his whole life.

No, they weren’t officially dating, but they both knew the feelings were reciprocated. They had difficult lives, and they couldn’t commit to a relationship yet. But neither of them minded that much, the mere presence of the other was enough. A simple etiquette wasn’t going to make any difference.

Ethan loved that Y/N wanted nothing from him, unlike his family—especially his dad, who forced him into a dark plan he never asked to be a part of. Ethan loved Richie, that was never in doubt, but he had it coming. His own decisions pushed him to his death. Was that the rest of the family’s destiny too? The thought of it paralysed Ethan, he didn’t want that to be his ending. He was just nineteen, he had a whole life ahead of him. But he also was terrified of hurting and disappointing his dad and sister, who were still a wreck after Richie’s death.

He had an internal war constantly going on inside his head and painted on his face. Y/N had noticed the anguish surrounding the boy for a couple of days now, and it worried her a lot.

“What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours?” she finally asked one day, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind as Ethan washed the dishes.

Her touch was as calming as a lullaby, and it was the only thing that could make him forget about what was going on in his life. “Family issues” he admitted.

“Everything okay?”

He turned around to face her “It’s just… they expect more from me” his answer was vague, but Y/N would never push him to tell her something he wasn’t ready to share. “They want me to focus more on the family business, and at first I was okay with it, but now I’m not so sure that’s what I want for my life.”

“Did you tell them that?” she asked softly.

He shook his head “I don’t want to disappoint them. This business is really really important to them.”

“I can’t tell you what you do, but you do know it’s your life, right? And you shouldn’t let yourself be miserable to keep someone else happy. If they don’t respect your wishes, why should you?”

Ethan hugged her to his chest and wished with all his strength for a future like this—with no revenge plans, with no fear of disappointing anyone, with not having to lie to the person he loved the most in the world. A future with her on his arms, without having to be constantly worried of losing her.

He knew better, but just for a moment, he let himself believe that future was possible. It was a little hoax that allowed him to keep going.

Y/N FELT LIKE HER BODY WAS GOING TO COLLAPSE FROM TIREDNESS AT ANY SECOND. She was exhausted, scared and tired of running for her life. Tara, Sam and Y/N were now cornered by not one, not two but by three Ghostfaces. Her feet hurt almost as much as her soul—they had just lost Chad, and there were no signs of Ethan and Mindy.

“Just quit the drama and show yourselves for fuck sake” Y/N said in irritation.

Officer Bailey looked at her, showing him a smirk she didn’t like at all. It was evil, secretive, the smirk of someone who knew something crucial that she didn’t. “Oh, kid, this is about to get more dramatic. Especially for you.”

When Ethan felt a pat on his chest, he knew it was time. He took off the mask. He had imagined that scene countless times, wondering what Y/N’s face would look like once she knew the truth. Yet no image could have prepared him for the immense amount of pain he was felt when his eyes met hers.

Y/N stood frozen, but her eyes said it all. They spelt betrayal, astonishment and above all, sadness. A hoax, a sleigh of hand, that’s what their bond had been. It had meant everything to her, and was just an strategic move for him. Ethan could read every thought on her mind, and he wanted nothing more than to cradle her into his arms and sweep all those ideas from her mind.

It all happened in a blur—one second her gaze and mind were focused on Ethan and the next one she was being dragged away by him.

“No!” she tried to fight him, her feet tried to stay firm on the ground but his strength was unbeatable. “Ethan, please.”

“I’m moving you to a safe place” he explained in a calm voice. But she didn’t trust him anymore, so fear crept into her body. Was this how she was going to die? At the hands of the boy she loved? “Here.”

The closet was dimly lit and narrow, their bodies were almost pressed against the other. “Let me go.”

“Y/N, it doesn’t matter to them if you had nothing to do with Richie’s death. They are going to kill you, you need to stay here.” he explained desperately.

Y/N’s eyes went to the knife held in his right hand, then she looked down at the stitches on her stomach, and she swore she heard the way her heart shattered like glass. Had Ethan—the one who had kissed the wound better, the one who had held her hand as the nurse stitched her up, the one who whispered reassuring sweet words on her ear as she looked down terrified at all the blood she had lost—been the one who inflicted that very same wound on her?

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was wondering, so Ethan grabbed her by the cheeks as if she was the most fragile thing in the world. The terrified look on her eyes didn’t go past him, and it killed him. “No, baby. No. I swear, I didn’t do that to you. I would never hurt you.”

“Don’t call me baby! And don’t you get it? You already did.” her lower lip trembled. The guy who she had trusted with her body and soul, the one that felt like home to her, was the person whom she should’ve been running away from all along. “Was I just some pawn in your game?”

Ethan’s eyes widened “What?”

“Was I just some kind of Trojan’s horse? The girl you used to get inside the group?”

The brunet wanted to say no, but they both knew it would be a lie. “Only at first…” when Y/N hid her face in her hands to sob, he couldn’t help but bring her into his arms. The action destroyed her, because his arms were the place she used to shelter herself in whenever she felt sad. And despite the fact that he was now the one piercing her soul, his embrace still quieted her pain. “But I fell for you, for real, Y/N. I hate myself for bringing you into this mess, you don’t deserve it. You’re… you’re the one who made me feel happy again after everything that happened last year.”

“Fuck you, Ethan. I hate you.” she cried in his chest. Y/N wanted to pull away almost as much as she wanted to lock her arms around his frame forever.

“I know, I’m sorry” he whispered. “I have to go.”

“No. No, please. Don’t leave me here, stay with me.” the panic in her voice was heavy.

“I’m going to come back for you, I promise. Don’t leave unless I come back, okay?”

What if you don’t come back? was the question that lingered on that small room. There was a high chance that he might not see her again, and that this was the last time she would see him alive.

“If you’re not back within ten minutes, I’ll go find you. And you better be alive, Ethan Landry.” the boy smiled, and pressed a short kiss to her lips. “Please come back to me, okay? I love you, please don’t make me live a life without you.”

“I will, Y/N. And then we’ll go home, and cuddle and everything will be okay. I love you.”

But that night, Y/N walked back to the apartment alone, leaving a part of her back in that shrine. She arrived to the place that stopped being a home and became a house instead. She tucked herself to bed and closed her eyes waiting for warm arms to hug her waist, but they never came. Instead, she had to hug the pillow that smelled like citrus—his shampoo—and let the salt tears fall freely.

She’s got a lot to live without now, and she’s never going to meet what a future with Ethan could’ve been. The battle was over, but the worse was yet to come. Now, she had to learn how to be without Ethan.

[f1nalboys]

hiii um. feel free to say no and i kind of feel embarrassed asking lmao but. ian mckinley and breeding kink with fem reader? >//<

NEVER EVER EVER FEEL EMBARRASSED FOR REQUESTING THIS listen im not saying that ian has to breed you everytime he gets high but thats exactly what im saying...... if you dont like the high aspect of this or if i used pronouns.descriptions ur uncomfy with, feel free to send another ask and i can fix it up/rewrite it!!!! otherwise, i hope you enjoy :D

Ian McKinley x Fem!AFAB!Reader

WORD COUNT: 1548

WARNINGS: nsfw, breeding, creampie, talk of breeding/ getting pregnant/getting knocked up, high sex (bc its ian and im right), car sex, pretty tame compared to most of my stuff!!! barely proofread honestly so sorry if theres any mistakes <3

Though the smoke is thick, lazily flowing from his lips, you can still make out his red cheeks and that shit eating grin. His gaze, like always, is on you and intense, making you shift in your spot opposite of him. “C’mere,” he says, coughing slightly as he nods his head, arm slung over the headrest of the backseat. You grin, closing the gap between you two and nestling into his side. His nose runs along your cheek, his eyes closed, as he breathes in. “Fuck, you smell good, y’know that?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Ian whispers back quickly, the word tumbling from his lips as he dips his head down to kiss at your jaw. You sigh, tilting your head as he continues down your neck, his hand dragging down your bare arm, his rings cold against your warm skin. His lips move expertly, finding the spot that has you letting out a soft gasp, goosebumps rising on your skin. “There you go,” he praises, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh as he trails down further. “You feelin’ it yet?”

You muster up a hum, nodding your head. Of course you could feel it; the two of you had been smoking on and off in his car for the last hour, shedding your warm winter layers as the car continued to heat up, leaving you in your pants and tank top, Ian in his jeans. His breath had long become your own, adding to the sensation of floating you felt. “God…” You grunt, eyes closing as he nips and bites at the thin flesh of your neck, soothing it with his tongue, the cool metal of his piercing sending a shiver down your spine. “Ian, we can’t.” You say, a flimsy sentence you had no plans on doubling down on.

He ignores you, hand drifting to cup you over your jeans for a moment before trailing up to your chest where he squeezes, his tongue and lips and teeth still marking you. You feel dizzy, your mind gone, unable to focus on anything but him. You always got like this when he kissed you, but when the two of you were high he was borderline addictive. “Yeah we can, baby,” Ian says, pulling back and letting go of your tit to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him.

Ian’s lips are pink and swollen, his cheeks red, his pupils dilated. His eyes search yours briefly and he smiles, leaning in to kiss you. “Lean back.” He grunts against your lips, pulling away to shove off his jeans. The back of his car is cramped but somehow you manage to lay back against the warm leather seats and have your pants pushed down to your ankles before Ian’s hands are back on you. He helps you take the rest off before spreading your legs at the knee, cursing under his breath. You blush, rolling your eyes at him.

“You’ve seen me naked a million times, Ian.”

“I’m pretty fucking lucky, aren’t I?” He teases, kissing your knee before leaning over you. You squirm remembering your first time with Ian, how he had told you over and over again you were made for him, how he fit against and inside you so perfectly it was meant to be. Ians’ breath is warm against your skin and you moan softly, looking down at where you meet, his hand wrapped around his cock as he slowly swipes it through your folds. “So wet already. Forgot weed goes straight to your cunt, baby.”

You whine slightly as you grind your hips against his tip, silently begging, before you hum. “You totally didn’t forget.” He laughs, confirming, before he grunts, the tip of his cock pushing against your hole. One thing about Ian, high or not, was that he loved to tease you, to dangle what you wanted over your head, keep it just out of reach, until you begged. “Ian, please! C’mon, d-don’t fuck around, dickhead.”

His eyes snap away from his hardening cock to your eyes, narrowing them slightly. “That’s not how you ask and you know it.” He says, his voice frighteningly calm and level. He pushes his cock against you again, sliding it through your folds with a hiss, his eyes never leaving yours as the sound of his cock sliding through your wetness filled the car. “C’mon, I know you can beg like a slut, sweetheart. Don’t tell me you’re all fucked out already?”

“Shut up.”

“I'm waiting.”

You look between him and his cock, groaning in frustration as the tip of his cock slides against your clit, too softly to do anything other than tease you. “Okay, okay!” You say and he gives you a pleased smile, waiting. It was harder to get you to this point when you were sober, too shy and too stubborn to listen. “Please fuck me, baby, okay? I need it, you know that.” You whine, your arms wrapping around his neck to bring him closer, your lips hovering against his. “I’ll even let you do that thing you like.” You whisper, grinning when he pulls his head back a bit to get a better look at you with an eyebrow raised. “Please, Ian? I want you cum in me.”

There’s a brief pause as he registers what you’ve whispered to him, his eyes widening before he kisses you hard, his hand fumbling to line himself up with your hole. “Holy fuck, baby.” Ian’s head rests in the crook of your neck, his pale body pressed against yours in the cramped car, the tip of his cock pushes inside you. His lips brush against your neck, tongue swiping over your salty skin as you moan. His hips move slowly, groaning as he bottoms out. “Fucking take it so well, don’t you? You were just made to take my cock, baby, see how good I feel inside you? Shit, I love you, I love your fucking pussy.”

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you adjust to his size, your cunt pulsing around his cock. Despite being with Ian for as long as you have been (and fucking him just as long, if not longer,) it still took you a minute before you could tell him to start moving. His cock was long, curving upwards, always managing to hit the spot inside you that made your vision go white around the edges. “O-okay… you can move.” You breathe out and Ian is pulling out only to slam back in. You yelp as he sets his pace, fast and rough, grunts and whines slipping from his lips.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight.” He moans, one arm next to your head propping himself up as he ruts inside you. “C-can you, shit, Y/N, can you talk? Please, baby, I wanna hear how bad you want it, okay?” Ian's voice cracks slightly, his face hovering above yours, eyes searching yours. “I know you need my cum, don’t you? Need my fuckin’ load inside you, dripping out, breeding you.” 

You nod your head quickly, moaning, your hips rocking against his cock, plunging him deeper inside you. His moan is high pitched, a whimper, and his thrusts begin to lose tempo. “Fuck, Ian, baby, I do need it. I need you to breed me so bad, I need you to cum inside me, knock me up, fuck,” you moan, babbling as he continues to fuck you. Your words, your gasps, your moans; they all drive Ian fucking crazy. 

His thrusts grow sloppier and now his entire weight is on you, his forehead pressed against yours, his cock barely pulling out with each thrust. The tip of his cock hits into your g-spot over and over again, forcing all the air out of your lungs as the pleasure builds. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts, shuddering as his hips begin to sputter. “M’gonna fucking cum, holy fuck. Gonna knock you up, baby, get you pregnant. Pussy’s gonna be leaking once I’m done with you. Fuck, I’m cumming.” 

Ian thrusts inside you a few more times before slamming all the way back in with a loud grunt, cumming inside you. You catch your breath as he rocks his hips, your cunt squeezing around him, milking his cock. His eyes open and he lifts his forehead from yours, giving you a lazy pleased grin. “That felt good.” You say with a grin, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Yeah? You liked me breeding you baby?” Ian asks, kissing your cheek and down to your neck again. You hum, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of his lips. You feel Ian begin to thrust again, gently, and you gasp softly, opening your eyes and looking at him in confusion. He grins, a flash of something dark in his eyes. “What? You thought you weren’t gonna cum tonight, baby?” He tsks, shaking his head as he hisses from overstimulation, rocking his hips back and forth. “Nah, gotta feel you cum around me baby. You can show me a few times, can’t you?”  He leans his forehead against your own once more, his pace getting faster as soft moans leave your lips. “Besides, I need to breed you a few more times anyways. Gotta make sure it sticks, don’t I, baby?