#None of the rest of these will be this in depth.

[nina-ya]

A/N: Zoro version lets goooooooooo i have some other characters planned for this as well so yeah!! Pairing: Zoro x reader CW: none WC: ~600 Other Versions: Luffy Zoro Sanji (more to come) • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Loving Zoro is loving someone who is a warrior and a dreamer. His ambitions burn brightly, and he is always chasing that final goal of becoming the world's greatest swordsman, and yet he never forgets about you. He’s that one person who you can count on to stay by your side and protect you throughout the night. His sleeping body is always ready to jump into action, at least more than usual, all so you can sleep soundly. He’s always there, watching over you even when you don’t fully realize it, ensuring you’re safe in a world that’s anything but. 

Loving Zoro is loving someone who is not afraid to be himself. He can be rough around the edges and sometimes abrasive, but there’s something nice about his honesty. He will never pretend to be something that he is not, and he will never expect you to either. He is simple, and straightforward, someone that you can lean on when everything in the complex world feels uncertain. 

Loving Zoro is enjoying the comfortable silence that always falls between you. No words are needed to feel close to him. You can sit beside him for hours simply watching him sharpen his swords, and feel more connected to him in that moment than anyone else. There’s always a peacefulness in his presence and you can’t help but cherish it. 

But Loving Zoro is also learning how to navigate those tall and tough walls he puts up. He’s not one to easily express his feelings, especially when it comes to love, and he’s much less likely to admit when he is hurting. His pride is very strong and sometimes loving him means giving him the space to figure things out independently. However, don’t confuse this with meaning he doesn’t need you. He won’t always say it, but you know he needs you when he leans onto you after a long tough day, or when he opts to have you tend to his wounds rather than Chopper. It’s his way of saying ‘i need you’ without having to utter a single word.

It’s understanding that he doesn't often declare his love for you through words, but he shows it in the way that he is always there. It shows in the way that he will train until his body refuses to continue, but he still takes the time to check on you. It is in the way that he will offer you the last of his water, even when he is thirsty himself. It is in the way that he is always by your side, promising protection in his presence alone.

Loving Zoro is knowing that he will fight for you with every fiber of his being, but he also expects you to be able to fight for yourself, not just on the battlefield. He respects strength, both physically and in character. He admires you when you stand your ground, even if he may disagree with the topic at hand. And no matter what, he will push you to be the best version of yourself because he believes in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself. 

Loving Zoro is loving a man whose passions mirror the intensity of his discipline. It’s watching him train for countless hours on end in the birds' nest, sweat dripping down his body as he pushes himself to his limits and beyond, and just feeling in awe at the sheer determination that drives him. But it’s also those moments where he lets his guard down for you, when he leans in close, forehead resting against yours, and you can feel the depths of his emotions.

[crows-in-the-house]

The human form

Summary: Hcs for Bill in his human (canon) form

pairing: Bill Cipher x reader

tw: none

Ok so let's get it straight - this guy doesn't care about his human looks at all. Like there's milions of great looking species and you would be asking him to look attractive in this vile-monkey-fleshy form? Come on, he has standards!

He will make it look as bad as he can just to spite you. Of course he could make it handsome and interesting for you, but since you still don't want to make a deal with him - why bother?

this is when this canon form comes into place

little does he know you don't really care about the outer layer - it's the insides that matter!

hold his cheeks and poke them while he speaks. He may act like he wants to bite them off, but until he doesn't actually do it, it's just a play! Wanna see how long your fingers will last?

talking about his mouth, make him wash his teeth. They are crooked, and sharp, ready to bite off a dentists hand.

style his hair! And wash them! And burn them if you see another bug crowl out of them!!!

you can also sprey him with a cologne cuz he smells like rotten flesh. But atleast it's your rotten flesh, right?

actually give you two a self care day. He doesn't know how to take care of anything, and the longer he uses this form, the worse it looks.

can he change it back to make it look clean and neat with a snap of his fingers? Yes. Will he do that to spare you work? No.

give him glasses for actual depth perception, he may be in a 3D sensing form, but it doesn't change the fact that he's a 2D seeing being. Same with a cane.

also, give him other clothes! He definitely likes fancy outfits so whatever you bring that isn't a mystery shack merch (and is from you) will be accepted.

you better get him two top hats tho.

why? Mind your business that's why.

he will help out with your skincare as a little payment - he's a benovolent demon after all! Get ready for lots of mud, nettle and leeches kid!

do his make up! He would just love you sitting on his laps, firmly holding him in place, lightly pulling the mascara on his lashes, and then smudging all your work and laughing at your expression!

not that he would do that all the time, he enjoys spending time with you like that.

he will try to open himself up. Litteraly. Better hide all knifes in his proximity, he wants to see his insides!

he also likes to loom over you. It's funny how scared or tired of his bullshit you can get. Imagine going to your kitchen for water at night, it's dark, quiet, it doesn't help you watched a horror film earlier. Suddenly you hear a raspy breaths against your back. You move your head a little, seeing the gums of a sharp canines, stuck in a smile. Large, claw like hands keep you in place, they could dig into your flesh-

if only you didn't pour the water on this fucker

since he has a higher build now, he likes to hold you, rest his head on your shoulder or dramatically lay his chin on your head - just so he can iritate you and laugh at how small you are now

[bloddysnow]

I am BEGGING for more of the harem series(lnds) pls I love them so much.

Summary: First meeting with Xavier

You moved through the forest, your steps barely leaving a trace, and not a single dry leaf underfoot betrayed your presence.

Hunting was a relaxing hobby, a chance to clear your mind and rest in nature. In the quiet of the forest, with the fresh air filled with the scent of the earth, far from the bustle of the palace, you found peace.

You preferred to go hunting alone. However, by tradition, you were always supposed to be accompanied by your guards, which sometimes irritated you. You valued your moments of solitude, and the constant presence of the guards disrupted that harmony. So, you often gave them strict orders not to follow you and to keep their distance.

The deer you had spotted stood peacefully at the edge of the forest lake. The animal was unaware of the human presence, lowering its head to quench its thirst. Holding your breath, you cautiously pressed yourself against the trunk of a nearby tree, watching every movement of the deer. Your hands acted automatically, having performed the task a thousand times: you smoothly raised your bow and took aim.

The bowstring was taut, the arrow ready to fly—when a sudden splash of water shattered the idyll. The deer immediately lifted its head, its ears twitching alertly. It sensed danger and bolted into the depths of the forest before you had a chance to release the arrow.

You twitched your lips nervously, slightly disappointed, lowered your bow, and watched the deer disappear into the undergrowth. You slowly stepped forward, emerging from your cover behind the tree, and headed toward the lake, deciding to find out what had caused the sudden splash. Perhaps it was a fish or a branch that had accidentally fallen into the water from the trees.

You carefully scanned the surface, but nothing unusual caught your attention. Just as you were about to leave, you suddenly froze, your gaze locking onto something strange in the water. Something was slowly rising from the depths or barely moving beneath the surface. It was a human body, swaying on the soft waves.

You stood motionless for a moment before hastily removing the quiver of arrows from your shoulder and shedding your outer garment. Without further hesitation, you dove into the cold water, plunging deeper. Grabbing the person by the arm, you pulled the body toward you, trying to lift it above the surface to give a chance to breathe if there was still hope.

You laid the unconscious person on the shore, knelt beside him, and, taking the person by the elbow, checked for a pulse. There was none.

You placed your hands on the person's chest, one hand over the other, and began rhythmically pressing down, trying to stimulate the heart. You counted each compression in your mind, maintaining the correct rhythm.

Carefully tilting the person's head back. You took a deep breath, leaned down, and pressed your lips firmly against his. You exhaled, hoping the person's lungs would accept your breath, then pulled back for a moment, watching his chest, and repeated the process. Your face remained focused, your eyes fixed on any signs of life in the person.

After a few tense seconds, body twitched slightly, and a weak, uneven breath finally escaped from his chest. Then came a faint cough—the water in his lungs began to drain. The person coughed more forcefully, struggling for air, and gradually regained consciousness. His eyes flickered open.

You exhaled with relief, watching the young man, who slowly sat up, breathing heavily. From a glance, it was clear that he was still very young, with delicate facial features. His skin was pale like marble, and his light hair fell in wet strands across his forehead. Through his soaked clothes, the contours of his body were visible, emphasizing his fragility. The young man's expressive eyes, framed by wet lashes, briefly met yours. These eyes, with their blue irises, seemed as deep as the lake itself.

"Why did you save me?" — his voice sounded unexpectedly sharp.

"No one asked you to, there was no need to do it..." — He paused for a moment as if processing the situation, then his gaze became piercing. — Or did *he* send you to me?

You realized that the young man would never have guessed who stood before him. The face of a member of the imperial family was never accessible to the common people. Moreover, you always dressed simply for hunting, like an ordinary person, avoiding luxurious garments and imperial symbols that could give away your identity.

The young man, shivering from the cold, stood up, wrapping his arms around himself in an attempt to warm up. He now looked down at you. His blue eyes flashed with icy fire, and a hidden determination slipped into his voice:

"Tell your master that I’d rather die than marry an old pervert like him."

Without a word, you took your outer garment, which you had removed before diving into the water, and calmly stood up.

"First of all, I am not who you think I am," — you quietly but firmly said, looking directly into his eyes.

"Secondly, saving you wasn’t a choice for me." —With a gentle movement, you draped your outer garment over the young man's shoulders, feeling him tense, but he didn’t pull away.

"And I can’t fully understand what you’re going through. But I wouldn’t wish for suicide to be the last decision you ever make." —You picked up your bow and quiver of arrows from the ground.

"You owe me life," your voice was both gentle and strong at the same time. — "But I won’t ask much of you. Fulfill one wish for me… live. Live until the day comes when you understand why I saved you. Until it’s your turn to save someone's life. Until you repay your debt, but not for me—for yourself."

You were already preparing to leave, but suddenly— "Wait..." You felt a light touch. The young man unexpectedly reached out and gently held your hand.

"…who are you?" he whispered. There was something elusive in his eyes.

"Xavier, Xavier!" — voices echoed, breaking through the trees. The young man flinched and turned toward the forest, where the sounds were coming from. They were the voices of his family, probably searching for him.

Xavier turned back to look at you again, but you were already gone. The forest was silent and empty, as if nothing had happened. Only a gentle breeze stirred the tree branches.

He slowly lowered his gaze to his hand. Xavier could still feel the warmth of your touch, which seemed to have seeped into his skin, leaving a pleasant sensation behind. His heart began to beat faster, and he involuntarily clenched his fingers, as if trying to hold on to that feeling for as long as possible.

[nemo-in-wonderland]

🍃 ASRA SILVERBOUGH | CIRCLE OF DREAMS DRUID | HALF-DROW ELF🍂

Name: Asra Silverbough

Nickname: Rara, Spiderling, little Owlbear (by her father)

Title: The Sentinel of the Sylvan Glade

Alias: None

Age: 199 Years Old (She was born in 1294 DR-Year of the Deep Moon )

Birthplace: High Forest, in Dark Maiden's Leap, the shrine consacrated to Eilistraee. Her mother prayed for the Goddess’ protection while birthing the Asra, and it was granted. Hometown: Emerald Grove, Sword Coast, Western Heartlands

Current Residence: After spending most of her life in the Emerald Grove with her father, she returned to the High Forest, her father's family's home, and joined the Druids of Tall Trees

Alignment: Neutral Good

Race: Elf (Drow/Wood Elf)

Class: Ranger/Druid - Circle of Dreams

Profession/job: During her formative years spent at the Emerald Grove, she was an Druid Initiate under her father's guidance, working with him in trying to preserve the Balance of Nature. However, she founds that curing ailments and working with medical herbs was not her vocation, and she would rather spend her days up in the trees, flying branch to branch while scouting the areas around the Grove. Eventually, she picked up the role of Sentinel for the Grove, and lead a small squad of Rangers to protect the Grove and its inhabitants. Visual particular traits: Due to having inherited her mother's and father's height, Asra is considered extremely tall for an elf, especially one of Drow descent. Her own physical constitution also favours her father's, making Asra stands out among her peers. Scent: White Moss and Oak Resin. Occasionally, especially when wearing her shawl, she is surrounded by an intense scent of Oud that can lingers for hours. She has no idea how that is possible, but she suspects the shawl the scent is magically weaved within the fabric of the shawl, considering its arcane properties.

Colours/symbols associated with: The Colours of the Forest during Autumn; The Owl that flies silently in the night; the Stag that protect the Forest and all that lives within it. Languages: Common, Elven, Wild Elvish, Druidic, Undercommon Accent?: Asra’s Elvish has a distinct “High Forest” tune to it (irl it would be similar to Scottish), and it would carry over even when she speaks the Common Language. Tropes they embody: “Action Girl”, “Amazonian Beauty”, “Badass Adorable”, “Be Careful What You Wish For”, “Big Sister Instinct”, “Determinator”, “Daddy’s Girl”, “Death Glare”, “Determinator”, “Fish out of Water”, “Hot-Blooded”,“Former Teen Rebel”, “Friends To All Living Things”, “Hidden Depths”,“Long-Range Fighter", “Made Of Iron”, “My God What Have I Done?”,”Parental Abandonment”, “Savvy Guy, Energetic Girl”, “Statuesque Stunner” “Strong Family Resemblance”, “Stronger Than They Look”,” It Runs In The Family”, “Tranquil Fury”, “Odd Friendship”, “Weakness Turns Her On”,

Personality: Determinate, Curious, Kind, Boisterous, Funny, Overprotective, Resilient, Resourceful, Intuitive, Brave, Loyal, Honest, Empathetic, Determined, Confident, Strong-Willed, Protective, Compassionate, Caring, Independent, Fearless, Vengenful, Short-Tempered, Impulsive, Rebellious, Hot-Headed, Proud, Stubborn, Overconfident.

Detailed Backstory: Asra was the biological daughter of Halsin Silverbough. The story surrounding her birth was complicated, and much like the relationship between her parents, it was shrouded in a silence that Halsin was rarely -if at all - willing to break. This constant secrecy amplified the emptiness left by her mother, and it would become, later in life, a void for Asra to fill with the knowledge as to why she was left behind. However, despite this, she had a childhood of relative happiness and carefree ease, surrounded as she was by the love and affection that the rest of the Silverbough Clan was willing to provide to the their youngest. Her early years were spent listening to the Elders’ stories and her father’s own teaching on Druidic knowledge, which continued well into her teen years. But while she enjoyed listening, Asra was an active elf with an even more active mind, and she enjoyed experiencing life way more than just learning from books or midnight stories.

So, whenever she could, she would sneak away from Grandma Silverbough to stay with her father and take care of the ailing animals under his care or, when that was not possible, she would climb high up the trees of the High Forest and spend time observing the owls that slept up in the higher branches. For reason she could never explain, she enjoyed being as close to the sky as possible, something that would later influence into choosing the Owl as animal to shape-shift into. Oftentimes, she would go so far up in the branches that her father Halsin could not retrieve her and it would fall on Quirora Evenfall, the Head Sentinel of the Rangers of High Forest to retrieve her and bring her back safe and sound in her father’s arms.

Quirora was fond of Asra and her persistency, and she actually liked the child’s spunky personality and her stubbornness in wanting to learn as much as she could; so, when, as a teen, she would start following her and rangers during their round of surveillance around the High Forest borders, she would allow Asra to follow by, on the condition that she was to be as silent as a flying owl - a task that would prove a challenge for Asra, considering her curious personality and her never-ending need to question everything, but a challenge she would tackle with patience and effort.

The rangers took some convincing in having an untrained half-drow following them around, but would eventually change their mind and actually find entertainment in dusting off ancient elven knowledge to pass down to the young girl, such as scouting, how to visualize potential dangers, following trails, how to trap a fey being and stop them from teleporting etc. Quirora and her squad were also the reason why Asra became set on learning how to use bow and arrows and would later become her weapons of choice.

Thriving under the care and devotion that her father, Quirora and the Rangers put into her upbringing, Asra would prove to be a brilliant young elf, with keen eyes that noticed everything and a boisterous and commanding personality- she would often take the lead while playing with other elves, and if an injustice were to occur, she was not afraid to brawl even with older kids to defend her friends.

But even as a teenager first and then as a young adult, Asra was restless, as in body so in spirit and with constant thoughts of her missing mother always in the back of her mind, something she often vented about with Quirora, when her father would not open up to her. Quirora would actually take Asra’s troubles to heart, because she could see how much this was weighting on her young soul, and being a follower of Sehanine Moonbow, the Elven Goddess of Dream, she spoke with Halsin about this and the possibility of at least ease Asra’s inquietude through dreamscaping.

Halsin was aware of the turmoil in his daughter’s heart, just as he was aware of how dangerous would it be for them both if Asra was ever to get close to the truth, and that weighted on his shoulders: on one side, he wanted for Asra to find closure; on the other, he didn’t want her to see put in harm’s way.

Eventually, he would agree with Quirora to initiate her to the ways of Sehanine.

So, it was finally under Quirora’s guidance that Asra discovered the ability of dreaming granted by Elven Goddess to her followers and how, through dreaming, there was the possibility of unveiling and discovering much that was hidden to the conscious eyes.

Asra put all her efforts into learning how to sleep and dreamscape, following the path of the Circle of the Dreams as a Druid, and started travelling through worlds guided by the pulsing necklace around her neck - one of the two mementos left behind by her mother- finally excited at the prospect of finding some answers to all the questions that were crowding her mind day and night.

What she didn’t realize when she decided to follow the path of the Circle of Dreams and therefore accepting, she made herself vulnerable to the Feywild influence and its inhabitants, for better or worse, and that inexperience in looking and manipulating others’ dreams had a great cost. Infact, while s

he actually managed to met her dearest friends through her dreams - Hiraeth of the Seelie Court - she also inadvertently caught the attention of another powerful being while roaming through his dreams, a being that would become both a fear and another obsession of hers: The Stag King

Most Treasured Possession: Asra is not one to keep material belonging in high regards; however, she has three items that are immensely dear to her: the magical shawl her father had used for her ever since she was a baby, a shawl that seemed to protect her against the sun and provide her with warmth whenever she needs, and that never seemed to tear and wear, despite being over 200 years old; a shards of never melting ice that she keeps tied around her neck, and that seems to emit a strange feeble pulsing sound; and lastly, a dagger in cold iron that Hiraeth gave her to protect herself against the Stag King, if the need were ever to rise.

Sexual and/or romantic situation: Much like her father, Asra is polyamorous, following her heart as nature’s intended. However, after the events of Elturel and the arrival of the tieflings refugees at the Emerald Grove, Boisterous Asra found a kindred soul in Rolan, whom she cares about dearly, despite the constant bickering and his ego being bigger than anything she had ever experienced. However, ever since she started exploring the Dreamscape, in hope to find her mother there, she had been haunted by the Stag King, who seemed to have a keen interest in her. If that interest is reciprocated by Asra, even she is not entirely sure.

Favourite place in Faerûn: Her most favourite place is most certainly the High Forest, where she spent her entire childhood, surrounded by her father’s family. Ever since only her and Halsin were all that remained of their family, she makes a point to try, at least once a year, to travel to Grandfather Tree and give them her respects. She missed them a lot, but she bears it for her father’s sake. Other than that, she enjoys being in the woodlands, surrounded by trees, but she never disdain spending time with Hiraeth in the Dreamscape, the only place where they can actually meet and catch up with what they have been doing. What makes them happiest: Sitting by the campfire at night and listening to her father’s old stories about High Forest and the time their family lived there. She particularly loves to listen to her father’s childhood stories, and about all the time he got himself in trouble for not listening to their elders (something she would jokingly use against him when he admonishes her for not listening to his advices). The few times that her father would open up about her mother and give her some crumbs of information about her were also moments of rare happiness she held dear within her heart. What makes them angriest: Discrimination of any kind. Seeing how she would be a victim of it due to her Drow heritage, she was absolutely furious in the way the Emerald Grove Druids were acting with the Tieflings Refugees from Elturiel, to the point that it came to a physical fight between herself and Kagha. She had to restrain herself when she suggested to kill Arabella for stealing the Idol of Silvanus, but she never came closer to breaking someone’s face like she did in that moment. When her father Halsin banished her from the Grove, she felt a triumphant spite she hadn’t felt in years. What makes them laugh: Who, rather than what. But the one that makes her laugh the most is Azriel and her flamboyant way of always narrating her adventures and her sentimental woes. Asra cannot help but laughing at all the hilarious - and embarassing - situations her parents and siblings put her through.

Biggest secret: Despite her father strongly advising not to look for her mother, due to how dangerous that would be for both of them, Asra has been secretly trying to look for her ever since she decided to partake in the teachings of the Circles of Dreams. One night, while scouring the Dreamscape during a particularly deep meditation, she bumped into something she never bumped before, and felt something against her soul, like the soft brushing of a pristine heron’s feather, but before she could investigate it any further, she got spooked by an apparition of hellfire and the strong smell of brimstones. It made her wake up scared out of her wits, to the point that Halsin as well had to intervene to calm her down and help her anchor her thoughts. What she saw would keep her away from the Dreamscape for sometimes, and this caused for Stag King to become irritated and prompted him to seek her out in the Material Plane - adding to Asra's troubles. However, stubborn as she was and despite the scare, the fact that she found finally *something* prompted Asra to strengthened her resolve to find her mother. Obsession: Asra is not entirely different from either her parents, and when she sets her mind on something, she will see it through, no matter what. Two thoughts are ever present in her mind, never leaving her alone: finding out why the Stag King seems so keen on wanting her attention, and finding her mother. Asra loves her father Halsin dearly, but she knows that his reluctancy in talking about her mother and the strange letter that she left when she abandoned them hide way more than what it’s written in between those words.

*rubs hands together*

SO.

I AM FINALLY DONE WITH ASRA'S PROFILE, AND OMG I SUPER INTRIGUED BY IT ALL TBH. I have kinda reconnected something from what I wrote a few months back, because I actually managed to make it work as I wanted, timeline-wise (and Jacob's existence was kinda the reason I was able to retcon and have Asra's story evolve this way).👀👀👀

I am starting to interwoven all my OCs' stories, in one way or the other, and dearest Asra here is fascinating me with how connected she is to the others👀👀👀.

Well, I hope you will like this and the infographics I did for her!!

Now I am working on Hiraeth's one, and hopefully they will be ready soon!

--Nemo

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template by @arcandoria; abridged profile template by @lairofsentinel)

[michaelmilligan]

I need to write fucked up Midam. And I don't mean that in the kinky way.

Michael liking Adam, but he's still an archangel and Adam is just a human. The body may have been originally Adam's, but now it's Michael's to use, and Adam only gets to do so if Michael feels like being nice. If Adam is too annoying, Michael will ignore him, maybe even shove him down into the depths of his own consciousness, until his mood lifts and he remembers to pull Adam out again.

They spent a lot of time together in the cage, but compared to the rest of Michael's existence, it's not that long. And humans don't live forever - Michael knows that Adam will be gone within a blink of an eye.

Meanwhile, Adam has spent several human lifetimes with Michael, and he doesn't know how else to live anymore. If he's not with Michael, what is he even going to do? The comment about getting a little job was part joke and part an attempt to see if Michael would let him. Michael scoffed at it, though - and Adam never brought it up again.

Adam has no family, or none that he considers to be family, and no friends or even acquaintances who don't think he has been dead for over ten years. He has no one to return to, nowhere to go. The idea that Michael would leave him, the only person he truly knows in this world and who knows him - it's inconceivable. He would do anything to have that not happen, no matter how much it hurts when Michael pretends not to hear him for a whole day, or two, or when he pushes Adam down.

Adam has no power, while Michael holds all of it. Sometimes, Michael is gracious, and lets Adam eat, or interact with people. He brings them places Adam mentions he wants to see.

But Adam isn't in control. Not of his body, or even his own mind. He loves Michael - must love him, because what else could it be when the thought of Michael leaving makes him feel like shaking and crying, even though Michael would never let his body do that?

It must be love, and so Adam needs to make sure that Michael loves him too, that he will stay with him. He's good at that, at being the good son, the good human, the one who does what he's told and cheers up the person he cares about, without a care for his own feelings. He can make sure that his existence doesn't trouble that person, that the person will never wish they hadn't gotten him, that they will never abandon him.

He's good at that. He did it for nineteen years, and then for a thousand, and he will continue to do it until the day he dies, because if Michael doesn't stay with him until the end, if he leaves, then Adam doesn't know what to do except lay down and die.

[thebrisingamen]

Total Drama Island

AKA the reboot reminded me of this ridiculous series so I did a stupid thing and made them all Pokemon/Pokemon Trainers. So here's a crossover no one asked for or cares about but I wrote up anyways

THE ORIGINAL TDI/TDA/TDWT CREW:

Beth, The Wannabe

As a Pokemon: Grumpig, due to her growing up on a Farm and being somewhat aware of her surroundings, since Grumpig is a psychic type. It's also a very bizarre pokemon and can be useful, even when people underestimate it, so I thought it would be fitting for Beth.

Her Team: As befitting her backstory, I gave her Grumpig and Miltank, some pokemon that can be powerhouses when used correctly. Dedenne due to her excitable nature and again, being underestimated and kind of easily manipulated. The same for Combee; a go with the flow, follow the leader type. Ditto for her desperate desire to fit in.

Sandshrew is the star of her team, as Sandshrew would be Beth's pokemon that shows her burying her feelings and curling up into a defense, but eventually evolving into Sandslash, a powerful ground type, reflecting Beth's nature as being more down to earth eventually.

Grumpig

Dedenne

Combee

Miltank

Sandshrew -> Sandslash (in TDA)

Ditto

Bridgette, The Surfer Girl

As a Pokemon: Floatzel, feels pretty obvious. Kind and goes out of her way to help people, pretty decent water type but not much of a fighter and has a very chill personality. A bit more responsible than our other surfers, which you'll see down the list.

Her Team: Obviously, I went with a water based team for Bridgette. Mantine and Dewgong being chosen as both of them are pretty chill types of pokemon, and you can surf on Mantine in Alola, to carry you from island to island. Spinda is representative of her incredible clumsiness on land and the constant running gag of Bridgette in physical comedy. Comfey also represents her soothing and calming nature in comparison to her teammates. Pelipper is Bridgette's powerful side coming out and probably her best pokemon.

Honestly I don't have a reason for Vaporean, other than it is an Eeveelution and Bridgette strikes me as the type to pick a popular pokemon and just evolve into a water type.

Mantine

Dewgong

Vaporeon

Spinda

Pelipper

Comfey

Cody, The Geek

As a Pokemon: Magnemite, as its a more modern pokemon, but like Cody, still "young" for a pokemon and according to the pokedex, can cause a lot of damage. Tends to show up and appear randomly when needed. Can be useful but hasn't "grown up" quite yet.

His Team: Cody's team I decided to keep mostly electric and strange pokemon, to reflect his nature. Magneton and Porygon reflect his kind of geekiness and general desire to try to be useful, but ultimately isn't as much. Phanphy and Treecko are more of a reflection of his kind of naive nature that grows overtime. Klefki represents his inability to respect boundaries. Beheeyem is Cody's intellect, but again, a weird pokemon that most people forget about/don't really respect.

Porygon

Magneton

Beheeyem

Treecko

Phanphy

Klefki

Courtney, The Over-Achiever/Type A

As a Pokemon: Espeon. Mainly because Courtney doesn't actually grow as a person until she gets actual friends in the series, and to tie-in with her intelligence and drive. Psychic type because while Courtney is competitive, she is not underhanded enough for me to think on her being a dark type. An Eeveelution due to her popularity as a character.

Her Team: Courtney's Team is reflective of parts of her personality. Tyrogue is often trying to better itself and constantly training. That she would make sure it evolves into the most balanced of the Hitmon's is 100% Courtney. Oranguru's entries commend it's command abilities, but in actual battle, this doesn't seem to come up, reflecting Courtney's need to have authority. Wigglytuff reflects her massive ego that can be easily injured, and the anger that comes with it. Ninetales follows the same footsteps, with the grudge to match it. Salazzle evolving shows Courtney's dedication to winning, using some tricks to distract others, but unlike Alejandro, Mal and Heather, they never go beyond distracting. She'd also pick "pretty" pokemon that are useful for her main team.

Oh and she EV trained the shit out of every pokemon. Courtney came to win.

Tyrogue -> Hitmontop

Oranguru

Salandit -> Salazzle

Wigglytuff

Ninetales

Vivillion

DJ, The Brickhouse with a Heart/The Teddy Bear

As a Pokemon: Audino. DJ is definitely a healer/support type Pokemon, but it had to be Audino, as the Chansey line is ALWAYS female. Audino fufills the same purpose and is SURPRISINGLY strong in battle, making it a force to be reckoned with at times.

His Team: DJ's first three pokemon represent elements of DJ from Island; Buneary for Bunny, the pet Bunny he found. Pachirisu for the squirrels and Stantler for the deer episode. Blissey represents his caring and kind nature that can also manifest into being able to punch you into submission, if he's pushed to do so. Tsareena represents DJs ability to eventually stand up for himself and again, despite being a grass type, doing well despite everything. Cyndaquil is his buddy, and represents DJs connection to everyone he meets; Cyndaquil would also be chill and help him with his cooking.

Buneary

Pachirisu

Stantler

Tsareena

Blissey

Cyndaquil

Duncan, The Delinquent Heartthrob

Jeez, he's had the most titles! Like Duncan has Four different introduction titles, according to the wiki.

As a Pokemon: Houndoom, because of course. An extremely popular character, Duncan would be reflected in an extremely popular pokemon--being Dark type was a necessity. Houndoom has been depicted as 'not all that bad' before, and that it looks scarier than it actually is.

His Team: Also would have a Houndoom on his team, as well as a Nidorino, reflected of his constantly tough persona and needling of others. Haunter and Purrloin allude to Duncan's prankster nature and kind of 'its not like a care' attitude, while also being able to help with the reflection on his criminal record. Krookodile is also an allusion to his 'tough but can be sweet' attitude. Granbull is the same thing, and honestly was the last member of his team, gotten after he met Zoey.

Houndoom

Krookodile

Nidorino

Haunter

Purrloin

Granbull

Eva, The Female Bully

Wow they like...made her cardboard, huh. Ah Well. It's Eva, everyone.

As a Pokemon: Surprising no one, she is the angriest of all Pokemon, a Primeape. It's really hard to find too much to say about Eva. A lot of her team is going to be like this as well.

Her Team: Poliwrath and Primape should be obvious; angry, aggressive pokemon whose wrath cannot be stopped. Hitmonchan and Steelix show her side that constantly works out and tries to improve. Charizard is quick to anger, but quite popular; an allusion to her return to the island that no on expected and her odd friendship with the E-Scope team. Stufful. Stufful is Eva's very rarely seen sweet side, though still incredibly destructive, albeit just by its nature and not because it is trying to be.

Hitmonchan

Poliwrath

Primeape

Stufful

Charizard

Steelix

Ezekiel, The Home-Schooled Guy

Again, a pretty low bar character. I mean its total drama I don't expect much, but c'mon y'all.

As A Pokemon: Sableye. Just. His storyline basically fits him turning into a Sableye, living deep in the caves and being obsessed with treasure.

His Team: Mudkip, one of the most hated pokemon designs of Gen 3, at least when it was coming out; reflects Ezekiel's standing amongst the rest of the cast, especially the girls. Kecleon shows Ezekiel's ability to fade into the background and hide, especially in WT. Drilbur, Dunsparce and Sableye reflect his descent into the darkness, living in the Caves of the island in ROTI. Macargo is the volcano he fell in.

Like does any one pokemon reflect him? No. his personality is about as much there as Eva's.

Mudkip

Kecleon

Sableye

Drilbur

Macargo

Dunsparce

Geoff, The Funniest Guy Around

As A Pokemon: Surfing Pikachu. Geoff is basically super chill, super likable and no one on the island seems to actually hate him at all. Like. It's kind of hard for even Chris or Chef to hate him? Up until the clip show later, Geoff is shown to be a pretty nice guy

His Team: Ludicolo and Togetic reflect Geoff's just likable, partying nature. Lapras shows his care for others and ties him to Bridgette more. Corsola is Geoff's environmental nature, and Kingdra can be where Geoff gets a bit full of himself. Surfing Pikachu is the same; Geoff's ego is his downfall more often than not.

Surfing Pikachu

Ludicolo

Togetic

Lapras

Corsola

Kingdra

Gwen, The Loner/Goth Girl

As a Pokemon: Frosslass; She's kind of cold and off putting, a strange person who prioritizes her alone time and freezes out people she doesn't like.

Her Team: Her team was a bit difficult; I gave her Cofigarius to relate to her fear challenge in TDI. Gothitelle, because obviously they keep calling her Goth Girl and it is able to predict the future and is often a loner. Smeargle to relate to her sketching hobby. Frosslass for the same reason; a lonely pokemon who doesn't seek others out, but can be fun. Liepard, because it is beautiful and moody, and unexpectedly vicious. Dusknoir because it is scary and kind of alien, receiving transmissions to transport the dead, and goes along with her "goth" aesthetic.

Dusknoir

Liepard

Frosslass

Smeargle

Gothitelle

Cofigarius

Harold, The Dweeb

Ah yes, Napoleon Dynamite joke character. Another pretty one-note dude.

As a Pokemon: Nincada, due to his obsession with Ninjas, and the annoyance he causes everyone.

His Team: Ninjask and Ferrothorn to call to Harold's Nunchuk "skills" and ninja obsession. Parasect because it is a strange and odd pokemon, reflecting how Harold is a strange and odd person; the same with Clefable. An inability to relate to others at times. Cradlily, because its useful and kind of creeps people out. Heliolisk, because Harold does a lot of posturing and is quick to claim he's good at something, without having the firepower to back it up.

Ninjask

Parasect

Clefable

Heliolisk

Cradlily

Ferrothorn

Heather, The Queen Bee

HBIC herself, Heather. How these kids didn't figure her out earlier is beyond me.

As a Pokemon: Vespiqueen; lots of minions, kind of aggressive and can kick ass where she needs to, when she has to do things herself.

Her Team: Beedrill and Vespiqueen, because of course she'd have the Queen Bee pokemon. They're also quite aggressive and powerful bug types. Salazzle and Dragalge, her other Poison types that show her manipulative and toxic side. Seviper because it is ruthless, like her and Heracross, as a powerful fighter that she usually has on her side.

Beedrill

Vespiqueen

Seviper

Salazzle

Heracross

Dragalge

Izzy, The Insane or The Psycho Hose Beast

Again, TDI didn't really know what to do with her; Izzy is kind of nuts. there's a lot and then again not a lot to work with here.

As a Pokemon: I settled on Kecleon, since Izzy changed her name and identity several times over the shows, and that is kind of Kecleon's thing to do.

Her Team: Kecleon and Dodrio, to reflect her constantly shifting names and personas she takes on, as well as her escaping the RCMP. Ariados and Ursaring as a call backs to when she was pretending to be a giant spider on ROTI and her rivalry with the Bears on TDI. Haunter for her playful but scary personality and Gourgeist for the same, but also with her kind of crazy tied in.

Kecleon

Ariados

Ursaring

Dodrio

Gourgeist

Haunter

Justin, The Jaw-Dropping/The Eye Candy

Once again, very basic but also a lot to work with here.

As a Pokemon: Very obviously, a Milotic, Shiny as Justin is one of the prettiest players in canon.

His Team: All of his team is based on wealth, popularity and appearance of said pokemon. Mienshao is there because while beautiful, it can be deadly and Alolan Meowth is Dark Type, alluding to Justin's manipulative streak on TDA

Milotic

Alolan Meowth

Glameow

Furfrou

Eevee

Mienshao

Katie & Sadie, The Besties

Listen these two were easy because they are about as developed as Eva and Ezekiel.

As Pokemon: What do you know, it's the worst Pikachu knock-offs, they're Plusle and Minun. Can't function without each other. Their teams reflect this. They Specialize in Double Battles.

Their Team(s): As you can see, most of these pairs are already twinned pokemon or pokemon that evolve from a similar first starter, like Beautifly & Dustox. I had to get creative for the last three sets; Pachirisu and Emolga SHOULD have been an evolution line, but it wasn't and they're similar, so they became part of Katie and Sadie's set. Clefable and Pyukumuku also had a similar problem; I had to pair them with similar pokemon, but not quite the same. It does give these two some differences.

Plusle & Minun

Illumise & Volbeat

Beautifly & Dustox

Clefable & Wigglytuff

Pinchurchin & Pyukumuku

Pachirisu & Emolga

Leshawna, The Lively

Very good, made it easy to create her team.

As a Pokemon: Leshawna is a pretty powerful pokemon, and with all the new ones out, I think she'd be a Tsareena; powerful, tough and graceful.

Her Team: Zangoose, as a rival to Heather with her Seviper. Pangoro, as Leshawna is not afraid to throw down, but only if you make the mistake of making her your enemy. Charizard as Leshawna is incredibly likable, but not always having the same presence as Geoff. Tinkaton, because she's very powerful and will smack everyone down, and looks good doing it. Larvitar because Leshawna never gets the chance to evolve it into it's final form due to the network, but shows her popularity and ability to stand against this crap. Hydrapple, for Leshawna's ability to do teamwork and how well she works with others.

Zangoose

Pangoro

Tinkaton

Charizard

Larvitar

Hydrapple

Lindsay, The Ditz

Her title is mean but true. This girl is dumber than a box of rocks, but she's really very sweet.

As a Pokemon: Ponyta, because she's very clearly a rich girl who loves Horses, based on her bike, and Ponyta is very much a 'head empty, run in field' type which suits Lindsay.

Her Team: Galarian Ponyta, as Lindsay herself is pretty pure as a character, not really wanting to hurt anyone or get into a fight with anyone. Alcremie, the style because it is rare and hard to get, like her nail polish. Honestly, She just found the last four of her team and got them to join James' style; with love and affection. Her team is more fairy type as Lindsay is truly one of the nicer characters...Ever.

Azumarill & Altaria are Lindsay losing her cool and actually being mean, for once.

Galarian Ponyta

Alcremie (Rainbow Swirl w/ Love Sweet)

Azumarill

Altaria

Whimsicott

Flaaffy

Noah, the High IQ/The Schemer

Not very schemey; he often thought himself smarter than he was and was pretty insufferable. But I thought about his team and hope it reflects him.

As a Pokemon: I started Noah out as a Natu; a future-seeing bird, who eventually evolves into a Xatu, as he reappears on Ridonculous Race.

His Team: Natu and Abra represent Noah's self-importance and complete lack of wanting to participate in the team based challenges, which ultimately got him kicked off said team, as well as his over reliance on his intellect. Pidgeotto and Donphan for when Noah actually got to doing things in RR and Wyrdeer as Noah strikes me as the type to somehow evolve Stantler first and act like he meant to do that the entire time.

Natu —> Xatu

Abra —> Alakazam

Bronzong

Wyrdeer

Donphan

Pidgeotto

OWEN, The Big Guy/The Party Guy

Owen was a little tougher, as there is the low-hanging fruit to go for, but also at least something there to work with beyond one note. At least there are two!

As a Pokemon: Munchlax, to go for the low hanging fruit and evolving into Snorlax by the time RR happens, to showcase his growth.

His Team: To slightly subvert expectations, instead of putting a Snorlax or Munchlax on his team, I figured Swalot would work for his insatiable hunger. Being poison type is also fitting, considering Owen's running gag. This is also why he has Skuntank on his team, as well as Vileplume. Quagsire is a call to Owen's very open and friendly demeanor, Musharna to represent his sleepwalking and eating, and Misdreavus to showcase his 'fun' side that can turn sour when he goes too far.

Swalot

Musharna

Misdreavus

Quagsire

Skuntank

Vileplume

TRENT, The Cool Guy/The Deep & Mysterious

TDI did him dirty and once again, there's not much to work with here. But I tried.

As a Pokemon: Gogoat. Trent is supposed to be pretty cool, lots of people like him but...that's where the buck stops. Unlike a lot of other characters, he doesn't get to have a shining moment beyond physical comedy and the canonical ship with Gwen. But, he's cute! and sorta popular!!

His Team: Obviously, he'd have a Gogoat. Espurr is there for Trent's reliving of his horrors. Lapras because he, like Geoff, can be caring and supportive. Shuckle to represent his odd fears and the obsession with the number 9. Flygon as Trent In-Universe is supposed to be a super cool dude. Now.

Zubat. Zubat represents the show and fandom reactions to Trent, as well as tying into his penchant for getting poisoned/stunned/etc. TDA it evolves in to Golbat and finally, in WT, Crobat because Trent FINALLY ended a lot of his personal drama and got...Crobat.

I didn't use any of the musical pokemon for him, as I felt that would be too obvious.

Gogoat

Lapras

Zubat —> Golbat —> Crobat

Shuckle

Flygon

Espurr

Tyler, The Jock

Tyler, oh Tyler. Kind of forgotten about, and once again mostly used for physical comedy.

As a Pokemon: Passimian, which is the sportiest pokemon I could find and thats how Tyler would define himself.

His Team: Passimian and Machamp to represent his passion for sports; Bewear and Linoone, both useful pokemon that are described as kind of klutzy, especially Linoone (can't break and can crash...often). Wooloo, for the same reason. Tyler is not kept down by his injuries. Armarouge, for Tyler's dedication to constantly trying, and often being a good sport.

Bewear

Passimian

Machamp

Linoone

Wooloo

Armarouge

Alejandro, The Arch Villain

And boy does he deliver this well!

As a Pokemon: Oricorio, Baile style most of the time, but he can switch between all four, depending on who he is needing to charm/talk to or what moves he needs in the moment. As one of the few pokemon capable of this, I felt this suited him; he never fully transformed into a different person, which is why I didn't go with Ditto.

Also, WT definitely leaned into his Spanish/Latin origins, which this pokemon also does.

His Team: Alejandro is a threat and that's why he has our most powerful starter, Blaziken. Also representative of the fiery volcano he faced in the finale. Sneaseler and Meowstic (F) are the pretty pokemon that are quite powerful and ruthless on their own. The same can be said of Galarian Linoone, but that is representative of Alejandro losing his facade. Zorua and Meowscarada are similar reasons; Meowscarada because it's whole thing is luring other pokemon into a false sense of security before ambushing them with it's moves, and Zorua due to the illusion ability it has and it's cute and disarming appearance (hence why not Zoroark).

Meowscarada

Zorua

Galarian Linoone

Meowstic (Female)

Blaziken

Sneaseler

Sierra, The Obsessive Uberfan

Oh Sierra, she's a funny character.

As a Pokemon: Mimikyu; constantly obsessed with and wanting to have everything ever of the TDI team, to the point of being creepy about it all, and surviving attempts to pry into her own backstory.

Her Team: Mimikyu, for her obsessive tendencies. Nickit, to steal "Keepsakes" from the people she's a fan of, Cosplay Pikachu to showcase her obsession/fangirl tendencies again. Morpeko represents her quick switches from 'Nice' to 'MEAN' rapidly when it involves Cody. Dragapult as its entries paint it and its line as kind of crazy and obsessed with their interests, which is definitely Sierra. Flareon is more because Sierra's aggression is not obvious, but can be deadly when unleashed, and its cooling off ability only works for so long.

Mimikyu

Dragapult

Morpeko

Flareon

Shiny Nickit

Cosplay Pikachu

[mipexch]

there's something so beautiful about rain world's art style that i can't properly put into words

[sparky-is-spiders]

It's actually insane how much Twilight was the blueprint for my fixation on Jon. Tired stressed out academic who I want to ship w/ everyone (except their canon love interest) and who I needed to see suffering and struggling and who I was literally constantly biased for regardless of circumstances. They are truly the Characters of all time to me.

[cherrysnax]

need to preface this by saying I looooove Felicia sm but god it’s so frustrating that when she pops up she gets to keep her personality, her depth, her everything, even in like her very few appearances but MJ has to get EVERYTHING WIPED AWAY even in the comics??? but literally the only close to faithful adaptions of her are spectacular, some of the 90s show and PART of the raimi movies and it’s only slivers!!!! And usually if mjs around Gwen doesn’t exist so we never the catalyst to her and peters bond, their shared grief that Peter can’t understand at first <\3

[c6jpg]

FUCK YEAHHHHHH ❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗❗

[desertdragon]

T/////Eight story amounted to basically nothing so I guess I'm back here to the other stupid as shit game I give too many chances on a more full time basis again (minus still writing my As///u/////Lil////i fic I love that thing too much and people in my DMs are counting on me for more)

At least I'll always have my friend and her best ending

And her faggot

EDIT: Ok it was nonsensical and full of holes like swiss cheese but now that i've calmed down this was always a goofy silly dumb game that cares less about taking itself seriously as it does being cool and fun, so while im disappointed and im allowed to be disappointed, im not running away with my expectations on this like others have. Tekken is still fun and will always have a place in my heart. And I do appreciate receiving some things I've always wanted regardless of my upsets with their execution flaws. They were finally able to make me feel like my favorite characters have closure on some level regardless, and that has to be commended.

[llycaons]

it's like I always say. only 6hr26min left

[guiltyasdave]

help me hold onto you

pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant! f!reader

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be pulled, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, graphic description of an injury, graphic description of violence, angst, nightmares, Logan's pov, fighting as foreplay, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, like they're just a little... primal, it's cute i swear, also reader looks like a human being it's just the mannerisms, fluff

a/n: guess i'm a multi fandom writer now? this literally came to me in a fever dream, very much like the logan brainrot itself lol. this is my first time writing for the man, after watching the movies - also for the first time - last week, so please be gentle with me <3 something very similar happens in the origins movie and i wanted them to explore that more, but alas, i had to do it myself.

massive thanks to @kiwisbell for assuring me that this idea isn't terrible and for freaking out about logan with me in general, to @catchallfangirl for coming up with the whole cat theme and for being so supportive, to @sizzlingcloudmentality for matching my freak and taking the cat theme to the next level, for helping me plot and for being an amazing beta reader, and to @javier-pena for listening to me rant about this idea and being so lovely and supportive <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is a queen <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Most nights, Logan sleeps easier when you’re in bed with him. Your body pressed against his, your skin soft and warm against his bare chest. One of his thighs between your legs where you’ve wrapped yourself around him, your touch moving over his torso aimlessly, fingers curling into his chest hair, your hands kneading his flesh in your sleep. The soothing little purrs that emit from your chest when you’re sound asleep. None of it bothers him, no matter how many times it disturbs his own rest. 

It keeps him grounded, feeling you next to him. He’d rather spend the whole night somewhere in that haze between waking and sleeping, listening to your sounds, your breath fanning against his skin, than being pulled under into the depths of his subconsciousness. 

He’d rather open his eyes to see you disentangling your limbs from his, stretching your whole body, arching against him as you yawn. 

He’d rather greet you with a smiling “Good morning, kitten,” waiting for that adorable little crease to appear between your brows when you pout up at him. 

“Did I do it again?” 

He doesn’t hide his grin as he nods, growing wider when you flop back against the cushions with a groan. 

“What exactly?”

“All of it.” 

Your sorry comes out muffled as you hide your face behind your hands. 

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning over you to pull your hands away and kiss the pout off your lips. Caressing that spot under your chin with two fingers, watching you go all soft, baring your throat to him. “I like it.” 

He would much rather wake up like this. 

But it’s been a long week and he’s exhausted. Exhausted enough to get lulled into a deep sleep, encased in the safe cloud of your warm body against his and your touch on his skin. Exhausted enough to dream. And his dreams are not a safe place. 

His eyes fly open with a shout, his whole body jolting upwards, every muscle pulled taut. He doesn’t even register the claws shooting out between his knuckles, all of his instincts screaming at him to fight. 

He’s only faintly aware of the sudden yelp of pain from beside him, the movement of something jerking away from him. 

“Logan,” your voice rings through the buzzing in his ears. Smaller hands landing on his shoulders, fighting to hold him steady. 

It takes a few disoriented blinks before he recognizes the familiar bedroom, a few more deep breaths to stop his body from shaking. To clear the fog in his head enough to understand what you’re saying.

“It’s me, Logan. You’re safe, everyone’s safe, it’s okay.” 

His eyes find yours in the semi-darkness. Wide with worry, but firmly trained on his face, repeating that everything’s okay. He finally registers the familiar weight of you straddling him, understands that it’s your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

He’s still panting, not daring to look away from your face again. The one tether that keeps him from getting lost in his mind again. 

“Are you with me?” you ask, your voice softer now. 

He manages a nod, tries to smile, to wipe the deep worry of your face, but he’s not sure if his mouth even twitches. 

As the feeling slowly returns to his body, he notices something else. A kind of wetness, warm and sticky where your right hand is connected to his skin. The unmistakable tang of iron in the air. He stretches to turn on a bedside lamp, jostling you along with his movement. A quiet whimper hits his ears, so low that he’s sure you tried to suppress it. 

With a new kind of panic surging through him, he grabs hold of your arm, bringing it to his eye level. 

Three scratches ooze in deep red, just beneath your wrist. It forces a gasp from him, eyes dancing frantically between the wounds on your arm and your face. How much blood did you lose already while you were busy helping him? As if he deserved it. 

“Fuck, I’m— I’m so sorry baby, we gotta—” He stumbles over his own words, grasping at you almost blindly, panicked tears blurring his vision. He did this. 

“Logan,” you say, still so inexplicably calm. “It’s fine. Look. It’s fine.” 

You gently pry his fingers off your arm and bring your wrist up to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, drawing long licks against your marred skin, collecting the blood and gliding over the cuts in your flesh. 

It pains him to watch, but it’s the least he can do. The least he owes you. He watches you clean the blood off, watches as the wounds start shrinking at the touch of your saliva, as the skin smoothes over before his very eyes until there’s only three thin marks left, a shade lighter than the rest of your skin. 

“Look,” you tell him again, extending your arm towards him. “I told you it’s okay.” 

He knows you can do this, of course he does. Has watched you multiple times, his fascination with your powers never wavering. How fluidly you move, how quick you attack, how skilled you are at surviving. You just never had to survive him. 

You lean down on top of him until your whole torso rests on his, your thighs still on either side of him, burrowing your head into his chest. “Which war did you dream about?” you ask quietly.

Most of the time, the dreams don’t grant him the mercy to zero in on one single memory. It’s a constant stream, one fight after the other, until all he knows is shouting, fighting, blood and death.

“All of them.” 

You sigh deeply, your breath cool against his sweat-dampened skin. Raising your head a little, you start placing kisses on his chest, pressing your lips into his skin where you can feel the faint beating of his heart.

“I wish I could kiss this better, too,” you mumble. 

He chuckles humorlessly, one hand reaching into your hair to scratch at your scalp. You shudder at the touch, an approving little purr traveling up your throat. 

“It’s okay now,” he mutters, leaning in to inhale the scent of your hair. “Just— I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

It sounds so simple, falling from your lips like this. But it’s no match for the aching guilt that’s already eating at him, the questions of what if that start swirling through his mind. 

Your body is growing heavier on top of him as you relax, your breaths evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut. It soothes him, has his own breathing slowing down, but he can’t risk falling asleep again. Not like this, not with your body so close to his.

“What are you— Logan?” comes your instant protest when he moves you to your side of the mattress, your eyes flying back open, wide and mildly confused.

“I could’ve killed you,” he mutters. It could have happened so easily. Just a little deeper, just a slightly different spot. 

“No, you couldn’t,” you quip, arching an eyebrow at him. “Cats have nine lives, remember?” You sneak another quick kiss on his chest before finding his gaze again, a teasing smile on your lips. “Even kittens.” 

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, to make him laugh. He knows that. You hate the pet name he’s given you. 

“And you’re not gonna waste one on me,” he grits out. 

Hurt flashes over your face, more pain in your eyes than when there was an actual wound on your arm. 

“It wouldn’t be—”

“Don’t you dare say it wouldn’t be a waste.” 

The words come out as a low growl, aggressive enough to send most anyone running. You don’t run. 

Your animal doesn’t like it when he growls at you. He can feel the tension rolling off of you, your hair probably standing on end. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath, release your fingers’ grip from digging into the sheets.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” you tell him, resignation in your voice. 

Your eyes fall shut again, your head for once resting on your own pillow instead of his chest. He misses the weight of it instantly. You doze off quickly, your hands still pawing weakly at his side, like your body can’t help it. He almost pulls you closer himself. 

While you sleep, Logan forces his own eyes to stay wide open, staring unseeingly into the darkness. 

It’s a quiet day. You had tried talking to him, tried to convince him that it’s okay, that it’s fine. He can’t keep listening to you insisting that him almost killing you is no big deal. He should have known, should have been more aware of the risk instead of letting himself get lost in the blissful sensation of your body curled around his every night. You’ve trusted him so completely, only for him to let you down. 

Just like he always does, the voice in his head whispers.

No matter how many times you swear that you can take care of yourself, he should still be protecting you, not actively putting you in danger while you’re fucking asleep. It’s happened once now, so it can happen again, and he knows that he could never forgive himself. 

He knows that he’s hurting your feelings. Sees how your brows knit together when he barely kisses you back throughout the day. How you bite your lip when the way you’re butting your head against his doesn’t make him chuckle like it usually does. 

He should be angry at himself. He is. But you shouldn’t be the one to catch the brunt of it, and it makes him feel even worse. You always say that he should talk about his feelings more, that it would help to let them out. He suspects that you’re right. He just doesn’t know how.

By evening, you’ve grown uncharacteristically quiet, but he keeps catching your burning glares at him when you think he isn’t looking. Finally, after you’ve stared at him for what felt like an eternity and he’s pointedly ignored you, you seem to snap.

“Can you stop it?!” It leaves your mouth in a hiss, triggering his instincts before the words even register in his brain. 

“Stop what?” he growls back. 

Your fingers curl as a low snarl escapes you. Normally, neither of you lets your animalistic side take over like that. Normally, you’re good at soothing each other. 

But tonight, he can feel the energy crackle between you, the tension begging to be released. 

“You know what! This fucking— sulking or whatever it is you think you’re doing!” 

He rises to his feet, pulling up to his full height. One of your hands twitches. 

“I’m not—” 

You charge at him with an angry shout before another word can leave his mouth. You’re on him in a flash, grabbing onto his arm and letting your momentum carry you until you’re behind him, your nails digging into his shoulders until you’re perched on his backside. 

Whipping his head around, he bares his teeth at you, growls rumbling in his chest. You angrily hiss in his face and swing a hand at him in return, leaving angry red scratches down his cheek. They heal and fade as quickly as they came, but a triumphant grin flashes over your features regardless. 

“Come on, Logan,” you breathe into his ear. The edge in your voice sends fire straight through him. “Fight. You’re not gonna break me.” Your canines nip at his earlobe, somewhere between affectionate and challenging.

He tries shaking you off, but your grip on him only tightens. He collects a fist of your hair instead, pulling harshly to keep your teeth away from his throat. 

“Enough,” he grits, trying desperately to regain control, to become more human again, to smother the primal need to match your aggression. 

He finally grabs hold of one of your hands as well and manages to rip you off his back and in front of him, holding on tight to your upper arms to keep you in place. You’re snarling and twisting in his hold, but he doesn’t let up. 

“Enough,” he repeats, searching your wild eyes. Your movements slow down a fraction, giving him a moment of hope, before you surge forward and bury your teeth in his lower lip. It hurts like hell and he can taste blood on his tongue instantly. 

“Fight me,” you demand again, baring your teeth at him.

He pulls you back by your hair with a roar, gathers both your wrists in one large hand and holds you steady. You could still break free if you wanted to, he thinks. He might be stronger than you, but your movements turn almost liquid when you want to escape, he’s watched it more than once. 

The pain in his lip has already subsided, but his blood is still coating your mouth, a stark contrast against the white shimmer of your teeth. 

“Are you done?” His voice is harsh, his jaw clenched, carefully keeping the desire to strike back at bay. 

You deflate a little, some of the wildness draining from you before his eyes. 

“I just— I’m not fragile, I don’t want you to be scared of— of touching me.” Your voice grows small at the end and he’s horrified to see wetness glistening in your eyes. 

The fight mode leaves him as fast as it came, replaced with the overwhelming urge to care, to protect what’s his. His pack, in a way.  

He gathers you into his arms, curling himself around you. It feels good to hold you close again. Breathing you in deeply, he smells the adrenaline still oozing from you, hears the rapid beating of your heart. But mostly, it’s your unique scent, one that he thinks he could recognize anywhere. His tether to this world. 

“I’m sorry, kitten. I’m not scared of touching you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

You sniffle against his chest, but when you finally raise your head to look at him, new determination is glinting in your eyes. 

“Prove it,” you coo, tracing the shape of his lips with one fingertip. “Please.” 

That he can do. He nips at your finger playfully, your responding giggle the best sound he’s heard all day, before he shoves it out of the way to connect his lips with yours. It’s rough, a clashing of teeth and tongues, the tension that has been building and warping all day finally finding a release. 

You gasp into his mouth when his tongue moves against yours, your hands pulling at his hair, needing him closer and closer still, never close enough. His groan at the taste of you travels through you both as he’s grasping at your clothes. 

He longs for your warm skin under his palms, longs for how you lean into his touch so needy all the damn time. You pull away with a moan, helping him to pull your sweater over your head and stepping out of your jeans as he sheds his flannel. 

You bring both hands up to cup his face, to search his eyes. “Don’t be gentle,” you plead, “please, I need—” 

You don’t have to keep talking for him to understand what you need. I’m not scared of touching you. 

With a growl, his hands find your hips, holding you tight as he’s walking you backwards until your ass connects with the backside of the couch. He crowds you in, paws at every inch of bare skin he can reach, his cock already hard and aching at your soft warmth and the sweet mewls that tumble from your lips. 

Hitching one of your legs up to open you for him, he grinds himself against your barely covered center. A keening sound escapes you at the friction from his jeans against your sensitive flesh and he allows himself a grin. 

“Feels good, kitten?” 

You nod mindlessly, holding onto him and rocking your hips against his while you’re letting him move you however he sees fit. 

“Do you want more?”

“Please, Logan.”

You sound so sweet when you’re like this, when you put your body into his hands. I’m not scared of touching you.

Setting your leg back down, he watches with hunger as you hastily take off your underwear while he pulls the white tank top over his head and opens his belt buckle. He could swear that your pupils dilate a fraction at the sound of it, filling him with a possessive sense of pride. 

As soon as his jeans hit the floor, he’s all over you again, palming the weight of your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples as he swallows down your mewls. You’re soaking wet already, covering his cock in your slick as he nudges against your folds. He’s impatient to feel you all around him, to sink into you, to stake his claim again and again and again. 

He normally works you open longer, gives you more time to prepare, but your impatience is just as apparent as his own, with the way you whine and plead for him, your fingers digging into his flesh, trying to pull him nearer. 

He follows your pull, pressing your backside into the couch once more as he crowds your space. Leaning in, he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth, one hand buried in your hair and holding you close. 

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips as he lets go of you. I’m not scared of touching you.

You smile softly, echoing the sentiment back at him. 

A surprised squeak escapes you when he turns you around suddenly, bending you over the back of the couch. He lines himself up at your dripping entrance, desperate to fill you up, to give you what you’re craving. 

“Not gentle?” he rasps once more, one hand curling around your neck from behind, both in reassurance and dominance. 

“Not gentle,” comes your breathy answer. It breaks off into a shriek of a moan when he slams into you with one long thrust, stretching your tight walls around his length. The sting of his sudden intrusion has to hurt at least a little, but you push back against him eagerly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

Logan holds himself still for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of your squirming body and your needy little sounds, before he pulls out almost entirely, only to push back in forcefully. Your toes barely reach the floor with how far he’s bent you over, lifting you into the air with every harsh thrust, but he’s holding you steady with ease, both hands possessively spanning over your waist, positioning you exactly where he wants you. 

“Taking me so fucking well, like you were made for me,” he growls, gently scratching over your back with his nails. You arch up to chase his touch, tightening around him, almost purring with pleasure. Wetness pours out of you, coating his cock. I’m not scared of touching you. Not when it feels this good. 

“M–more, please,” you whine, blindly reaching backwards to him. 

He leans over you, cages you in, his arms on either side of you, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, not so deep as to draw blood, but enough that he knows the indents will stay there for quite some time. 

Your whole body goes limp at the sensation, a surprised mewl escaping you as you clench around him wildly. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, his own hips stuttering, “give it to me kitten, come on—” 

He reaches around your hip, fingers teasing through your slick folds and up to your clit, rubbing with slight pressure as he keeps pistoning into your heat. 

“Logan—” you gasp, getting almost impossibly tight, before you shatter around him. He keeps thrusting into you, keeps up his ministrations on your clit, until the pulsing of your cunt around him sends him over the edge as well. He spills his release deep inside of you, the thought of leaving a part of him with you always filling him with a primal satisfaction. 

Pulling you up instantly, he gathers you in his arms, your body soft and pliant against his chest. Walking around the couch and sinking into the cushions to lie down, he gently moves you until your weight is resting on top of him, his embrace wrapping around you.

You stir a little, needing a moment to take in your position. The look of uncertainty that you give him damn near breaks his heart. “Is this okay?” You sound uncertain, too.

God, he’s such an idiot. 

“Yeah, kitten. It’s— fuck, of course it’s okay.”

thank you so so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, a comment or a reblog would absolutely make my day :)

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - Shadow

Summary - In the bustling streets of King's Landing, a day of market escapades and a sweet surprise reveal the depth of Aemond's devotion to his wife. Their story defies the whispers and gossip of the realm, proving that true affection flourishes even in the heart of the coldest dragon.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2267

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"Aemond, must you always look so miserable?" I teased as we strolled through the bustling markets and lively stalls of King's Landing, my arm looped through his.

He sighed, pulling me closer to his side. "I simply do not understand why we must do this ourselves. If you require anything, you know I can have it brought to you."

"But I enjoy going out myself," I insisted, stopping in front of an elderly woman's stall laden with vibrant dress fabrics and delicate laces.

Aemond frowned, his gaze dropping to my small, but growing bump. "I wish you wouldn't indulge in such whims, especially in your condition," he murmured, resting his hand protectively over our unborn child.

"If you do not start acting like you love me, I swear it, I will start weeping this instant," I threatened with a playful glint in my eye, as I sifted through a roll of golden fabric.

He arched an eyebrow, his tone softening. "I don't need to act like I love you if I already do," he countered, his voice gentle yet firm.

I handed the fabric to the vendor, her gnarled hands accepting it with a nod, and I couldn't help but smile at his words, a warmth spreading through me like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.

"Well then," I replied, my tone brightening, "I suppose we're in perfect agreement."

"I suppose it's the chaos of the market that unsettles me," Aemond admitted, "I'd rather be certain of your safety." 

I pouted, feeling a pang of guilt at his concern. Leaning in, I pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to his cheek, hoping to lighten his worry.

The vendor soon returned, carefully folding the fabric and handing it back to me. "How much?" I asked, reaching into the small coin pouch at my side.

"For you, Princess, it is free," she said with a sweet, almost maternal smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

I shook my head, a soft laugh escaping my lips. "Nonsense," I replied, pulling out five golden coins and placing them in her hand.

The woman's eyes widened, her expression a mixture of shock and overwhelming gratitude."Oh, thank you, Princess," she said, her voice thick with emotions. "May the gods bless you and the babe."

Aemond and I began walking again, the vibrant energy of the market humming around us. He  took the fabric from my hands and passed it to Ser Arryk, who followed us with a vigilant but unobtrusive presence.

"Princess, you've paid far too much for this," Ser Arryk pointed out, his tone respectful but puzzled.

I shrugged lightly, glancing up at Aemond as he interlaced his fingers with mine. "If we can afford it, why not?" I replied, feeling a sense of contentment in the small act of kindness.

Aemond squeezed my hand gently, his gaze softening further as he looked down at me. "And now, where to?" he asked, his voice carrying a rare note of playfulness.

I paused for a moment, considering the options laid out before us in the lively market. "Perhaps the baker's," I suggested a playful glint in my eye.

Aemond chuckled, his grip on my hand tightening affectionately. "Lead the way, my love. Wherever you wish to go, I shall follow," he promised, his voice laced with warmth.

We made our way through the bustling streets to the baker's stall, the air heavy with the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries. 

The display was a feast for the senses, with golden loaves, delicate pastries, and intricately decorated cakes all vying for attention. I couldn't resist the temptation and began picking out various treats, my eyes gleaming with delight as I selected a mix of sweet and savoury goods.

As the baker carefully wrapped my selections, I stepped to the side, my attention caught by a small cluster of cats lounging lazily in the warm sun by the side of the stall. 

Without a second thought, I dropped to the ground, the soft fabric of my dress pooling around me as I reached out to pet them. The cats responded instantly, purring contentedly as they nuzzled into my touch. 

I laughed softly, completely lost in the simple joy of the moment as I caressed their soft fur, marvelling at how they responded to my affection.

"Princess, your dress!" my handmaiden gasped, her voice filled with concern as she rushed to my side, her eyes wide with worry. "You'll ruin it!"

I looked up at her with a lighthearted smile, still stroking the contented cats. "It's alright," I reassured her gently, "I have others."

My handmaiden hesitated, clearly torn between her duty to maintain my dignity and her understanding of my spontaneous nature. Finally, she sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips as she watched me continue to pet the cats.

Aemond stood a few paces away, his tall figure casting a shadow over us, but his expression was anything but dark. He watched me with a gaze so full of love and adoration that it seemed to soften his sharp features, a rare vulnerability shining in his eye. 

His usual stern demeanour was nowhere to be seen, instead, he looked utterly captivated, as if seeing me in this unguarded moment deepened his affection for me even further.

Finally, I tore myself away from the cats, rising from the ground with Aemond's hand extended to help me up. I dusted off my dress, smiling up at him as I did so. 

"Do you like cats?" Aemond asked, his voice curious, yet tinged with a softness that was rarely heard.

I looked at him incredulously, surprised that he didn't already know. "I love them," I confessed, a wistful smile playing on my lips. 

"When I was younger, I begged my mother to let me keep one, but she never allowed it. She was afraid they would distract me from my duties, that I'd spend more time with them than attending to my responsibilities."

Aemond's expression softened further, a thoughtful look crossing his face as we began our walk back to the Red Keep. 

"Mhm, I see," he replied, his tone nonchalant, but I could sense the wheels turning in his mind as the familiar walls of the Keep came into view.

As we reached the entrance, I turned to him, smiling softly. "I'm going to change, my love. I'll see you later," I said, leaning up to place a gentle kiss on his lips before stepping away with a little wave.

He watched me go, his gaze lingering as my handmaiden and I started chatting animatedly about the gown that would be made from the gold fabric we had just purchased. 

We made our way through the corridors, our laughter echoing faintly as we envisioned the intricate designs and fine details that would soon bring the fabric to life.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

Later that evening, I sat in our chambers, the room dimly lit by the warm glow of candles. My handmaiden was gently braiding my hair, her fingers deftly working as we prepared for bed. The tranquillity of the moment was soothing, the quiet hum of the Keep's night settling around us.

The door to our chambers opened softly, and I heard it close just as quietly. "Aemond?" I called out, not needing to turn around to know it was him.

"Yes, darling," he replied, his voice filled with a tender affection that made my heart flutter. 

My handmaiden finished the braid, tying it off with a delicate ribbon before giving me a small nod and excusing herself for the night.

Aemond strolled up behind me, his presence warm and comforting. He leaned down to place a quick, affectionate kiss in my hair, the familiar scent of him enveloping me as I turned to meet his gaze. 

His eye was alight with amusement, a rare smile playing on his lips.

"I have something for you," he said, his hands hidden behind his back, the hint of a playful grin on his face.

My curiosity piqued, I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" I asked, but before he could answer, I heard a faint, delicate whimper. My eyes widened in surprise as he slowly revealed what he had been hiding.

In his hands was a small, grey, fluffy kitten, its big eyes blinking up at me innocently. 

"She's yours to keep," Aemond said, his voice softening even more as he watched my reaction.

I gasped in delight, immediately reaching out to take the little bundle of fluff from him. The kitten was light as a feather in my hands, her soft fur brushing against my fingers as I brought her up to my face, inhaling the sweet, milky scent that only a kitten possesses.

"She's adorable," I murmured, my heart swelling with affection as I gently rested the tiny creature on my bump. The kitten settled in comfortably, her small, contented purrs vibrating against me as I stroked her with tender fingers.

Aemond watched me with an expression of pure love, his eye reflecting the warmth and joy of the moment. 

"I knew you would love her," he said quietly, his voice filled with satisfaction as he saw how happy the kitten made me.

I looked up at him, my eyes shining with gratitude and love. "Thank you, Aemond. She's perfect," I whispered, leaning in to kiss him softly.

The kitten's purring grew louder as she nestled against me, already content in her new home. 

Aemond sat beside me, his arm wrapping around my shoulders as we both watched the kitten explore her new surroundings, her tiny paws padding across the bed.

"What will you name her?" he asked, his voice gentle as he turned his gaze from the kitten to me. I paused, a faint smile playing on my lips as I considered his question.

After a moment of thought, I turned to him, the smile widening as I made my decision.

"Vhagar," I declared, watching as Aemond's face fell. He glanced from the kitten back to me, his expression caught between disbelief and amusement.

"What? Both our pets can share the same name," I teased, nudging him playfully with my elbow.

Aemond shook his head, his lips twitching as he struggled to maintain a serious expression. 

"Vhagar is not a pet, she is a dragon, a fearsome one at that," he countered, his tone laced with a mixture of pride and incredulity. "And that little creature right there is nowhere near as terrifying as her," he added, pointing at the kitten.

As if on cue, the kitten leapt up, her tiny claws latching onto his finger with surprising determination. Aemond blinked, momentarily taken aback, and I couldn't help but laugh at the sight.

"Hey, don't talk about her like that," I said, gently prying the kitten from his finger and placing her back on my bump, where she settled down with a contented meow. 

I stroked her soft fur, feeling her tiny heartbeat against me, a protective instinct rising within me.

Aemond raised an eyebrow, a smile finally breaking through his composed facade. 

"What about Shadow?" he suggested, his voice softening as he watched me cradle the kitten.

I considered the name for a moment, glancing down at the little ball of fluff that was now dozing peacefully on my lap. 

"Shadow," I repeated, testing the name on my tongue. It felt right, a fitting name for a creature who was small and quiet, yet already held a special place in my heart.

"I like it," I decided, looking back up at Aemond with a smile. "Shadow it is."

Aemond's eye softened, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tender smile as he leaned in to kiss my forehead. "Shadow it is," he echoed, his voice a low murmur, filled with affection.

Aemond's kisses trailed down my neck, each one sending a shiver of warmth through me as he gently pushed my body back onto the bed. His intentions were clear, the familiar hunger in his touch unmistakable. But just as his lips grazed my collarbone, I placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back.

"Not in front of Shadow," I whispered, nodding toward the tiny kitten, her soft purring barely audible.

Aemond paused, his lips hovering just inches from my skin, his expression shifting from passionate to utterly bewildered. He pulled back slightly, his eye widening in disbelief as he looked from me to the kitten and back again. 

The look on his face was a perfect mix of surprise and incredulity as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

I bit my lip, trying to suppress a giggle at his reaction. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to bear, but I couldn't help but find it endearing. 

Aemond let out a dramatic huff, clearly resigned to the whims of our tiny observer. He gently lifted the kitten placing her carefully on the floor beside us.

He then turned his attention back to me, he reached out, his hands deftly guiding me as he manoeuvred our positions. With a swift, yet gentle motion, he pulled me on top of him, arranging us comfortably as he settled back onto the bed.

"There," he said with a note of triumph in his voice, his eye glinting with a mix of amusement and affection. "Now Shadow isn't watching."

After a thoughtful pause, I nodded in agreement, a smile spreading across my face. "You're right," I replied, my tone light and teasing.

With that, I leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Aemond's lips. The kiss was tender and filled with affection, a sweet affirmation of our connection. 

As our lips met, I felt the warmth of his love enveloping me, his arms encircling me as if to hold me in that perfect moment forever.

A/n -Welcome back Margaery Tyrell x

[rafecameronssl4t]

Tell ur girl || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Topper’s new girl being a bitch so you just have to remind her where her place is.

Warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 431

a/n: send me requests pleaseee 🫶

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

Posted up with my dogs, Scooby Doo type shit. She grippin’ all on my balls, I gotta move type shit. Diamonds, they cover my flaws, I got that brand new type shit.

You step into the dimly lit space of the party, left hand sporting a red plastic cup, your other holding your purse as you move amidst the chaotic atmosphere. The pulsating bass of Future’s ‘Type Shit’ reverberating through the air, the scent of alcohol and sweat mingles with the thrum of excitement, creating an intoxicating ambiance that electrifies the senses.

You navigate through the crowded room, your gaze fixed on Rafe, sat on one of the couches with a few people around, his presence commanding attention wherever he goes. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—like topper and kelce—their expressions a blend of excitement and indulgence, but your focus remains on Rafe.

He hadn’t noticed you as he was talking to a guy standing behind the couch, but Topper did, and he tapped Rafe on the shoulder and cocked his head to your direction. He watches you as you come closer with that grin you knew all too well. He let his eyes wander down your figure as you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks burn up.

Without even setting down your purse or cup, you immediately leaned over to Rafe as his hand rests on your hip, your lips meeting in a kiss. All while this was happening, you could hear Topper ushering the girl beside him to move to his other side. Your eyes move to an unfamiliar girl, her blonde locks cascading around her shoulders as she’s pressed up against your boyfriend’s arm, her expression one of casual indifference.

Your eyes then flicker towards Topper’s hand resting on her thigh. So this must be Top’s new girl, Cassie I think her name was. “Yo Top, tell your girl to move over yeah?” Rafe leans back on the sofa manspreading as his eyes lock with Topper’s behind the blonde girl’s head.

You notice the subtle change of demeanour in Cassie as she looks down at her painted nails. “Babe, just move here,” Topper pats the free space on his other side as she scoffs. “Why should I? I was here first,” she scoffs, glancing at you as she dismissively tosses her hair.

Rafe watches Cassie with a measured gaze, his eyes betraying none of the amusement that flickers in their depths. “Cassie, right?” The blonde blinks up at you, “Could you just please move over? You’ll still be sitting next to Top,” You assert, your tone firm but composed. Rafe’s lips quirk up in a barely contained smile.

“Nothing,” She shrugs, “I’m just not moving,” she declares defiantly, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture of defiance. In your peripheral vision, Topper closes his eyes briefly before letting out a breath, “Cassie, it’s not a big fuckin’ deal, just move and let Y/n sit there.” His tone agitated.

Your patience wears thin at her stubbornness, frustration simmering beneath the surface. With a sigh, you shoot Rafe a pleading look, silently urging him to intervene. But Rafe merely watches the exchange with a hint of amusement, his lips quirking up in a barely concealed smile.

Before you can respond, Rafe’s deep voice slices through the thick tension in the room, calm yet imbued with an unmistakable authority. His eyes lock onto yours, his expression firm but not unkind. “Come on, Cassie. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he says. His words resonate with a weight that leaves no room for argument.

“Fucking forget about it,” your voice cuts through the air as the three of them watch you set down your things on the glass table. Then, without missing a beat, you settle onto Rafe’s lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you. Your boot-covered feet find their place on Cassie’s lap, causing her eyes to widen in shock

Topper stifles his laugh as Rafe smirks, his large hand resting on your exposed stomach. Topper’s laughs become audible, drawing a sharp glare from Cassie. “Fuck you all,” she snaps, pushing herself off the couch and shooting you a withering look before stalking off into the crowd.

“Jesus Christ, Top, where are you finding these girls? Bitch island?” You shook your head at him as he rolls his eyes, leaning back on the couch. “Fucked If I know. Maybe I should steer clear of blondes,” Topper grumbles. Rafe snorts, “That’s about the smartest think you’ve said in a long time.”

[adiraargent]

In a world full of boys, he's a gentleman <3

Synopsis: the Slytherin boys and the 'gentleman' things they do Warnings: None :) Characters: Mattheo Riddle, Theodore Nott, Tom Riddle, Blaise Zabini, Jasper Rowle

This is Part 1 :)

Mattheo Riddle: opening doors for you

"Hey there, my love," Mattheo greeted, flashing a grin as he held the door open for you. You rolled your eyes playfully at the endearment, a fond smile tugging at your lips as you looked up at your boyfriend.

"Always the gentleman, huh?" you teased, stepping through the door of the Slytherin common room as he held open with a light chuckle.

"Hey, gotta treat my girl right," he replied, trailing behind and falling into step beside you. He nudged you gently with his elbow, his laid-back demeanor effortlessly charming.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head. His lips lingered for a moment, and you couldn't help but blush at the tenderness of the gesture. "You're my everything," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine adoration.

Whether they were heading to class, grabbing a bite to eat, or just strolling through the castle halls, Mattheo made it a point to hold doors open for you. It wasn't a grand gesture, just a simple act of courtesy, but it spoke volumes about his thoughtfulness.

"You spoil me too much, you know that?" you remarked with a grin, as Mattheo held the door of his dorm for you.

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Can't help it. You deserve the world," he shrugged, following you inside. He wrapped his arms around your waist, playfully throwing you on the bed before snuggling up next to you, holding you tightly against his chest.

Their laughter filled the air as they chatted about anything and everything, discussing everything from stupid things their friends had done recently to their favourite movies. Mattheo listened intently, his eyes lighting up as they shared their stories.

Theodore Nott: Holds your face with both hands when kissing you

"Hey," Theodore greeted softly, his fingers trailing gently along your jawline before cupping your face tenderly, drawing you into a sweet kiss. His touch was always gentle, his palms cradling your cheeks as if you were the most precious thing in his world.

"Hi," you whispered against his lips, smiling as he leaned in to press another soft kiss, his touch grounding and comforting.

"Did you have a good day?" Theodore asked, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he held your face in his hands.

"Mmm, it was alright. Nothing compared to this though," you replied, your voice softening as he leaned in for another kiss, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

He pulled back slightly, his hands still cupping your face, his eyes filled with warmth as he gazed at you. "You always make everything better."

"You too," you said, feeling a surge of affection as his touch lingered, his fingers tracing delicate patterns along your skin.

"Can I just kiss you forever?" he murmured, his forehead resting against yours, his touch never leaving your face.

"That sounds like a plan," you chuckled, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your cheeks, grounding you in the moment.

As he leaned in for another kiss, his hands framed your face once more, holding you gently but firmly, his touch sending a rush of warmth through you. Each kiss felt like a silent declaration of his love and care, his hands a constant reassurance that you were cherished.

"Promise me something," he said softly, his gaze intense as he held your face in his hands, his touch so tender it made your heart flutter.

"Anything," you replied, feeling a rush of emotion at the sincerity in his eyes.

"Promise you'll never forget how much you mean to me," he whispered, his hands trembling ever so slightly against your skin.

"I promise," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings.

Theodore smiled, his touch becoming even more gentle, as if he was memorizing every contour of your face. "I love you," he murmured, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss.

"I love you too," you replied, feeling a surge of emotion as his hands cradled your face.

Tom Riddle: Subtle things to make sure you don't get hurt

In the midst of a quiet classroom, Tom and you sat side by side, the ambiance filled with the hushed tones of a lecture. You were unconsciously fiddling with your quill as your tired eyes lingered on the teacher, doing your best to listen to whatever he was saying.

A small sigh slipt from your lips as your dropped your quill, the small object rolling under your desk. As you leaned down to retrieve your quill, Tom subtly shifted, his hand discreetly finding its place at the edge of the desk, ensuring you wouldn't hit your head upon rising.

"Thanks love," you whispered, meeting his eyes for a fleeting moment, noticing the faint blush that graced his cheeks as he quickly looked away.

"Wouldn't want you getting hurt," he murmured, his voice barely audible, trying to cloak his concern with an air of indifference as his eyes went back to the teacher.

"I appreciate it," you replied softly, a small smile playing on your lips, acknowledging his unspoken worry.

Throughout the class, the subtle ways Tom looked out for you were apparent. Whether adjusting his posture to prevent you from bumping elbows or discreetly sliding a book closer to your reach, his actions spoke louder than his reserved words.

As the lesson progressed, you dropped a parchment, and before you could react, Tom swiftly picked it up without a word, his gaze briefly meeting yours with a hint of concern before retreating into his usual stoic demeanor.

"Thanks," you said, your voice warm with gratitude, feeling the corners of his lips twitch into the faintest hint of a smile before he composed himself.

"Merlin you're an idiot," he mumbled under his breath, a small smile twitching on the corner of his lips. He loved you, and he did his best to show it. To some, these may just seem like small gestures, but to you, these acts meant everything.

Blaise Zabini: Looking after you while you are sick

"Blaise, I think I'm dying," you groaned, your voice muffled by the mountain of blankets you'd buried yourself under. The room echoed with your misery, and you could practically feel Blaise's amused gaze on you.

"Quite the melodrama you've got going on there," he chuckled, entering the room with a tray in hand.

You peeked out from under the blankets, giving him a weak glare. "This is not melodrama. I'm genuinely dying. I might need to write my will."

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Last I checked, you're broke. And if you're going to die, at least wait until you've cleaned up the mess in the bathroom."

You shot him a scowl before returning to your cocoon of misery. "I'll have you know that this is a serious illness. I even got Pansy to get me a book from the library so I can read about my symptoms."

He set the tray on the bedside table, glancing at you with a mix of amusement and skepticism. "And let me guess, according to Dr. know it all, you have a rare tropical disease only found in the depths of the Amazon rainforest?"

"No, it says I have a severe case of man flu," you deadpanned, voice muffled by the blankets.

Blaise burst into laughter. "Man flu? Really?"

You shot him a glare from under the covers.

He shook his head, still chuckling. "Ok, ok. I come bearing gifts to nurse you back to health."

He lifted the tray to reveal a steaming bowl of soup and a cup of hot tea. Your eyes lit up, and you managed to sit up, sniffling pathetically.

"Ah, the healing powers of chicken soup," he declared dramatically, handing you the bowl.

You took it gratefully, inhaling the comforting aroma. "You're the best, you know that?"

"I try," he said with a wink, settling onto the bed beside you. "Now, eat up. We can't have you wasting away on my watch."

As you sipped the soup, Blaise watched you with a soft smile. "Feeling a bit better already?"

You nodded, the warmth of the soup soothing both your throat and your mood. "Maybe I won't die today after all."

He chuckled, running a hand through your hair. "Good to know. I was planning on having a quiet night in, not attending a funeral."

You swatted him playfully, earning a smirk from Blaise. "You're lucky I'm too weak to defend myself properly."

"Consider it a mercy on my part," he teased, taking a sip of his own tea.

As the night wore on, Blaise stayed by your side, occasionally offering more soup, fetching tissues, and regaling you with stories to keep your mind off your misery.

"You're surprisingly good at this whole nurse thing," you admitted, snuggling into the blankets.

He grinned, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Well, when the patient is you, it's almost enjoyable."

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile played on your lips. "I must be really sick for you to admit that."

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you. "Maybe you're just bringing out my softer side."

You sighed dramatically. "I never signed up for a softer Blaise Zabini."

"Too late now," he replied with a smirk, holding you a little tighter. "You're stuck with me, even if I have to nurse you back to health every now and then."

You leaned into his embrace, feeling grateful for the care and comfort he provided. "I suppose I can live with that."

And as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in blankets and the warmth of Blaise's presence, you couldn't help but feel that maybe being sick wasn't so bad after all, especially when you had someone like him to take care of you.

(This is my favourite for sure)

Jasper Rowle: Doing your shoelaces

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow into the room as you and Jasper sat comfortably on a bench in Hogsmede just of to the side of Zonko's, enjoying a leisurely stroll that had turned into a serene moment of shared silence.

"Oops," you pouted, looking down at your untied shoelaces, a small sigh falling from your lips as you went to go and tie your laces.

"I've got it darlin'," Jasper said with a gentle smile, bending down on one knee before her.

"Jasper, you really don't have to," you protested, a faint blush gracing your cheeks at the unexpected gesture.

He shook his head with a grin, his fingers deftly working on your shoelaces. "I've got it, can't have my girl tripping on her own shoelaces, can I?"

You chuckled softly, unable to hide your affectionate smile as you watched him tie the laces with care. "You're too good to me, you know that?"

He glanced up at her with a warm smile. "'Just don't want you getting hurt."

As he finished, he ran his thumb over your knee softly a few times before standing up and placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head, causing your heart to flutter. The simple act filled you with warmth and adoration.

"Thank you," you murmured, touched by his gesture.

"Anytime, my love."

Their fingers intertwined as they resumed their stroll through Hogsmede, the cool breeze carrying the faint scent of baked goods, more than likely from a stall near by. The world seemed to slow down around them as they walked hand in hand, enjoying each other's company.

Hi all! This is my first post, hope you enjoyed it :) I take requests for many different fandoms and characters <3