#and are mad that he can’t just magically make things happen and he has to go through the proper channels

[thatweirdtranny]

i mean, i don’t think biden is perfect, but he’s a lot better than the terminally online radical left will have you believe

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone. 

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care. 

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?” 

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.” 

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.” 

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now? 

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel. 

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.” 

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest. 

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it. 

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven. 

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense. 

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high. 

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk,  and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.” 

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?” 

 “I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth. 

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left. 

That was easy. Wow. 

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would.  But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not. 

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows. 

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable. 

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded. 

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home. 

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control. 

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip. 

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest. 

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt. 

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.  

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

 If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect. 

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls. 

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear. 

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you. 

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure. 

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell. 

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat. 

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm. 

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit! 

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions. 

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all. 

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way.  His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features. 

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically. 

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless. 

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious. 

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

 When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly. 

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing. 

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that. 

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing. 

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

[saintsenara]

Riddle’s extremely fearful and aggressive reaction to Dumbledore when he thinks he’s a doctor (and the fact that he assumes this at all and believes he is being lied to) has some pretty dark implications (which of course no one follows up on). Do you have thoughts?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

and yes - this has occurred to me too... which means that my thoughts come with a trigger warning for the sexual abuse of a child, and are under the cut.

the relevant scene in canon is, of course, this:

“I am Professor Dumbledore.” “Professor?” repeated Riddle. He looked wary. “Is that like doctor? What are you here for? Did she get you in to have a look at me?”  He was pointing at the door through which Mrs. Cole had just left. “No, no,” said Dumbledore, smiling.  “I don’t believe you,” said Riddle. “She wants me looked at, doesn’t she? Tell the truth!”  He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that was almost shocking. It was a command, and it sounded as though he had given it many times before. His eyes had widened and he was glaring at Dumbledore, who made no response except to continue smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds Riddle stopped glaring, though he looked, if anything, warier still. “Who are you?” “I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come.”  Riddle’s reaction to this was most surprising. He leapt from the bed and backed away from Dumbledore, looking furious.  “You can’t kid me! The asylum, that’s where you’re from, isn’t it? ‘Professor,’ yes, of course - well, I’m not going, see? That old cat’s the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they’ll tell you!”

the surface-level reading of this scene - which is clearly what the text wants us to go for - is that riddle thinks he's about to be institutionalised for being "mad" - and, specifically, that he thinks that what dumbledore has been told is his "madness" is actually his magic.

[he is also clearly meant to be read as panicking a little bit that he's fucked around torturing his fellow children and is now about to find out...]

that riddle accepts he's a wizard so easily - and that he is so reassured by dumbledore agreeing that he's not mad - is something the text wants us to read as sinister. him immediately describing himself as "special" is set up as a precursor to the adult voldemort's delusions of grandeur - which the entire arc of the series, ending in his death as an ordinary man, is designed to undermine.

but i've always disliked this reading. the eleven-year-old riddle - a magical child raised around non-magical people - is objectively correct to describe his powers as "special" [in that they make him identifiably different from the crowd] within the context in which he lives. the word choice is nowhere near as deep as dumbledore decides - he's clearly known since he was very young that he's a wizard, but he didn't have the precise language to describe this fundamental part of himself until dumbledore offered it; prior to that, "special" is a perfectly reasonable alternative term.

and, in always knowing that he's a wizard, he also knows that he doesn't have a mental illness - but he must also know that this is something it's near impossible for him to prove.

in the real world, if i spoke to a patient who told me:

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.”

then i would be correct to describe them as experiencing psychosis. and i might - depending on their other symptoms - have reasonable cause to admit them [voluntarily or not] for psychiatric treatment.

riddle is - of course - demonstrably not psychotic. but it's not unreasonable that mrs cole would assume he is - the world she lives in, as a muggle [even if she's a religious one], is one in which people do not possess the ability to move objects or control animals with their minds, and if one of her charges is convinced that he can, then she's justified in seeking medical intervention.

[that psychiatric treatment in the 1930s can be described without exaggeration as inhumane is another matter...]

which is to say, i think we can easily suppose that mrs cole has - prior to dumbledore's arrival - succeeded in having riddle "looked at", and that the idea that he's mentally ill and should be committed to an asylum has been mentioned before. i think most of us would be instinctively [and angrily] wary of doctors if this happened to us, regardless of how nice the doctors in question were.

and maybe that's all there is to it.

and maybe it isn't...

in the doylist text, the eleven-year-old riddle's personality is the way it is because he's the villain of the series. where harry is preternaturally capable, even as a child, of all the things the series defines as admirable - above all, enduring difficulty without complaint - riddle is preternaturally incapable of them. he's meant to come across as unambiguously sinister - and the fact that the text repeatedly emphasises that he has control over his unpleasant traits invites us to view him as someone who is acting with full agency. that he lives in an orphanage is a trope which the text uses, like a campy horror film might, predominately to underscore how creepy he is - and the text, in keeping with its general lack of interest in states and their institutions, never really prompts us to interrogate the impact of his childhood upon the course his life takes.

[this is despite the fact that voldemort's reliving of the night he killed the potters in deathly hallows is an incredibly accurate depiction of ptsd...]

but it's also the case that the eleven-year-old riddle's behaviour and personality fits a pattern we might expect to see in a child who is being abused, sexually or otherwise:

he's aggressive, he has a hair-trigger temper, and he becomes distressed even by behaviour - such as dumbledore speaking mildly and calmly - which would not ordinarily be expected to provoke such a reaction.

his broader emotional state is fractious. his mood changes sharply, he seems to feel emotions very profoundly, he struggles to control his emotional response to things, he's extremely easily irritated, he's attention-seeking - and he particularly seeks negative attention, and he's very highly-strung. his admission in deathly hallows that he feels calm before he kills - or before he otherwise eradicates a threat or a problem - comes with the flip-side that he's someone who appears, when things aren't going well or he finds himself in a situation which he can't control, to become quite anxious. which is a trauma response.

he's extremely isolated. the text presents the fact that he has no friends as a deliberate choice - "lord voldemort has never had a friend, nor do i believe that he has ever wanted one" - and his relationship with everyone else he ever meets, including his fellow orphans, is defined by the text as exclusively involving him controlling, manipulating, and punishing them. or: he is always the more powerful person in the pairing. but this need for control can be read as self-protective just as easily as it can be read as sinister. there are hints in canon that riddle is not just some malevolent force in the orphanage preying on mild-mannered innocents. for example, billy stubbs, the owner of the rabbit he kills, is targeted by riddle as revenge: “Billy Stubbs’s rabbit... well, Tom said he didn’t do it and I don’t see how he could have done, but even so, it didn’t hang itself from the rafters, did it? [...] But I’m jiggered if I know how he got up there to do it. All I know is he and Billy had argued the day before." on the rare occasions billy turns up in fics, he's usually - i find - written very like neville - sweet and guileless and a bit pathetic. but the alternative reading - especially when we take into account that riddle attacks the rabbit rather than billy himself - is that billy is someone he would be afraid to physically confront. indeed, it's striking that voldemort - at all stages of his life - is described as being quite physically fragile. not only is he very thin, but he's always cold and his heartbeat is described several times in canon as irregular. i think this is supposed to be a comment on the physical changes he undergoes the more horcruxes he makes - although the idea that the soul would affect the heart doesn't actually align with how the series understands the soul to relate to the body - but it can also be interpreted perfectly legitimately as something he was experiencing prior to splitting his soul. i am committed to the headcanon that riddle was quite a sickly child - and that this is one of the things which drives his fear of death - and i'm also committed to the idea that his obsession with magic is because the enormity of his magical power makes up for his physical lack. he can defeat - and humiliate and frighten and remove the threat of - billy or dennis [or even an adult man?] with magic. without it, if they were to physically overpower him, then he wouldn't be able to throw them off.

he is extremely nervous about being alone in a room with dumbledore - someone he doesn't know, and who he assumes is connected to a profession [and, maybe, who knows any other doctors he's been previously made to see...] of which he is frightened.

he doesn't trust or confide in anyone - which, as a child, means particularly that he doesn't trust or confide in adults in positions of responsibility. he's clearly uneasy with the idea of finding himself in the subordinate position in an adult-child relationship when dumbledore offers to take him shopping for school supplies - potentially because he's worried that dumbledore will try and dictate or restrict what he's allowed to buy unless he behaves in a certain way... and i am always very struck that dumbledore says in half-blood prince: "He was very guarded with me; he felt, I am sure, that in the thrill of discovering his true identity he had told me a little too much. He was careful never to reveal as much again." this is presented in the text as evidence that dumbledore is the only person of whom voldemort is afraid - by which the text means that voldemort acknowledges that dumbledore knows that an ordinary man, mortal and unimpressive, lurks behind the mask of unassailable power he has created for himself; and which the text thinks is a good thing. but we can also read it as a self-protective act on riddle's part. in his excitement, he offers dumbledore information [that he is known to be a liar, that he is in trouble a lot, that mrs cole dislikes him and is disinclined to believe anything he says] which would give dumbledore - or anyone in a similar position of power and presumed respectability - cover to abuse him, safe in the knowledge that he would be unlikely to be believed if he reported it.

he doesn't appear to feel safe in the orphanage and he's frequently absent from it - by his own admission, he spends a huge amount of time wandering around london on his own, which may even involve him staying away for several days at a time. nobody appears to notice or care about this.

he's very independent - which the text again presents as evidence of his deliberate self-isolation and rejection of the bonds of love and friendship - and his independence is unusual for a child his age [i.e. that he is capable of doing all his own shopping for school].

his knowledge of violence - i.e. how he designs the trip to the cave to be maximally psychologically devastating for dennis and amy and devoid of repercussions for himself - is also more advanced and methodical than would be expected in a child of his age. again, the text uses this to emphasise how inextricable the child-voldemort is from his adult self - and also, to some extent, to underscore the intellectual brilliance [his magic is also more advanced than is normal for a child] which his narrative archetype [the exceptional villain who is defeated by the everyman hero] requires. but we can also read it as evidence of his own victimisation. a common sign that a child is being sexually abused is that they display a knowledge of sexual behaviour which is more advanced than is reasonable for a child of their age - for example, knowing in detail how a sex act is performed, or fluently using sexual slang which they have no chance of knowing either from age-appropriate settings like school-based sex education or conversations with a parent or trusted adult, or from the sort of enthusiastic hoarding of rude words and phrases all children enjoy as they grow up. riddle's precise, clinical knowledge of how to manipulate, frighten, torture, and control can be seen as something similar. if he can - at eleven or younger - methodically break down another child until they're "never quite right" again, then this is because he's learned how to from someone.

he keeps secrets. and he also goes out of his way to extract them. his grooming of ginny in chamber of secrets - he manipulates her into confiding things she wants to keep to herself, promises he won't tell anyone, and then uses the threat that he will to get her to do his bidding - is an absolutely textbook example of how abusers use the idea of secrecy to control their victims. it doesn't make his abuse of ginny any less inexcusable if we assume he learns this from being on the other side of things.

dumbledore understands his little cache of objects as trophies he's taken from victims - and the text takes the view that dumbledore is correct in this assessment. that hoarding trophies is something widely associated with serial killers means that this is yet another thing which underlines how creepy - and how like his adult self - the child-voldemort is. but it's also the case that the adult - and teenage - voldemort places a lot of emphasis on gift-giving as part of his control over other people. the two most obvious examples in canon are wormtail being given his shiny hand as a reward for helping voldemort get his body back, and slughorn being buttered up with crystallised pineapple before voldemort asks him about horcruxes. the text thinks this is sinister - and one of the reasons it does this is because gift-giving is a grooming tactic. the text also clearly thinks this isn't behaviour voldemort has learned from the other side. and yet a common sign that a child is being abused is if they have possessions it doesn't make sense for them to own [i.e. a child from a low-income background who is suddenly decked in designer clothes] and which they can't or won't explain how they came by. riddle's cache isn't luxurious - although he's so poor that a yoyo or a mouth organ probably is a luxury to him - but there's also nothing in canon which precludes the objects being presents, rather than stolen goods. if the spell dumbledore uses to make the box rattle is caused by a statement which is both relatively ambiguous and dependent on dumbledore's subjective personal morality - is there anything in this room he's acquired through nefarious means? - then the spell would still work as it does in canon if riddle was an abuse victim given the objects as "rewards". dumbledore's tendency to locate right and wrong in the individual and dumbledore's belief that good people should steadfastly endure misery means he can be written entirely canon-coherently as someone who would think a victim who appeared to collude in their own abuse - such as a victim who "offered" a sexual act because their abuser promised them something if they did - was behaving consensually, manipulatively, and nefariously. and it's worth noting that when riddle doesn't know what dumbledore has done to make the box rattle, he is "unnerved". when he realises dumbledore thinks he's stolen the objects - and that he has no interest in forcing him to admit this aloud - he is "unabashed". perhaps because he's just received proof that an experience he doesn't want to talk about is still secret...

on the other hand, the objects could indeed be stolen - because petty criminality and anti-social behaviour, especially in pre-teen children, is also a sign of abuse.

he can be extremely obsequious - when dumbledore tells him to watch how he speaks he becomes "unrecognisably polite", he ruthlessly flatters slughorn, and he is cringingly deferential to hepzibah smith. the text understands this as evidence that his apparent charm is only superficial - another trait associated in the popular imagination with serial killers [and it's striking that so much about the young voldemort - handsome, charming, seemingly quiet and polite, true evil lurking underneath the mask - is exactly like the pop-culture persona which has been created for ted bundy...]. voldemort himself agrees that his charm is performative in chamber of secrets: “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted." but his obsequiousness is also a fawn response - a way of minimising a threat by attempting to please the person issuing it. he becomes "unrecognisably polite" - after all - in response to this: Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “If, as I take it, you are accepting your place at Hogwarts - ” “Of course I am!” “Then you will address me as ‘Professor’ or ‘sir.’ ”  Riddle’s expression hardened for the most fleeting moment before he said, in an unrecognisably polite voice, “I’m sorry, sir. I meant - please, Professor, could you show me - ?”  riddle could reasonably interpret what dumbledore says here as a threat to prevent him attending hogwarts - even though dumbledore evidently doesn't mean it in this way - and he switches to being fawning because this is something he really doesn't want to happen...

do i think that any of this is what the text was actually going for? no. and nor do i think that reading riddle as a victim of abuse excuses the violence which the adult voldemort goes on to perpetuate.

but i think it is a reading of his characterisation which is both canon-plausible and interesting - a strange, sickly child with a reputation for cruelty and dishonesty being abused by the respectable doctor who is constantly called in to treat his coughs and wheezes, who buys him little presents and charms him into telling him secrets, who then [to paraphrase the teenage voldemort] feeds him a few secrets of his own, safe in the knowledge that nobody will ever believe him if he tries to get help.

and i also think this a reading which is sincerely important.

a significant contributor to the prevalence of child abuse - no matter what exact form this abuse takes - is that we are culturally conditioned to imagine that both the abuser and the victim will look and behave in a certain way if the abuse is "real".

and this means, all too often, that we take child abuse more seriously when the victim is "sympathetic" - when they're from a stable home, and their family are respectable, and they do well in school, and they're polite and sweet, and they look innocent, and they behave perfectly appropriately for their age, and nobody would ever dare to say that they come across as older than they are, and they're white, and they don't have a history of lying, and they don't have a history of attention-seeking, and they don't have a criminal record, and they're not abusive themselves, and there's absolutely no way of suggesting that they colluded in their abuse, and the perpetrator was someone who looks like a child abuser.

someone who is creepy, low-status, ugly, unpopular. someone who everyone can tell is socially abnormal, someone who nobody would ever intentionally permit to be around their children. not someone who is charming, well-respected, attractive, rich, popular, trustworthy. not someone who has a loving family and a happy home. not someone we might be friends with.

but many perpetrators of child abuse are these second group of people. and many victims of child abuse are "unsympathetic", when their social positions and reputations are compared to their abusers' own.

they lie. they steal. they're attention-seeking. they're vindictive. they have trouble distinguishing between imagination and reality. they're violent. they're bullies. they hurt animals. they abuse other children. they take drugs. they're mentally-ill. they come from broken homes. they're in the care of the state. they're dirty. they're poor. they're odd. they're behind at school and badly-behaved in the classroom. they do things which allow their abuse to be dismissed as something they brought upon themselves - they speak or dress in certain ways, they pose provocatively in pictures and post them on the internet, they are known to be sexually active outside of the context of their abuse, they lie about being over the age of consent, they engage in sexual behaviour with an adult abuser in a way which appears [even though it isn't, and there's never a circumstance in which it will be] to be consensual or for their own personal gain, they are flattered by the attention they receive from someone who is important or attractive grooming them, they have complicated - and not always wholly negative - feelings towards their abusers.

and they are still - unequivocally - victims, and what happens to them is still - unequivocally - abuse.

tom riddle is an unsympathetic victim - not only of any potential abuse, but also of the horrors of his life which are explicit on the canon page: that he is raised in an orphanage; that he is grieving; that he knows nothing about his family; that he is thought to be mad.

the absence of any institutional response to his childhood experiences - dumbledore, by his own admission, discloses nothing about riddle to his fellow teachers - is a flaw repeated again and again in the worldbuilding of the harry potter series.

hogwarts - and the wizarding [and muggle] state more broadly - doesn't intervene in any case of neglect or abuse, from harry to snape to voldemort's own parents. the series' individualistic morality means that we aren't supposed to interrogate these collective failings. and the series' black-and-white view of good and evil - and its general belief that violence is fine if the person it happens to "deserves" it - means that it has no interest in examining the ways that poverty, isolation, and neglect are risk factors; that straightforwardly unpleasant people can still be victims; that victims can go on to become perpetrators without their victimhood ceasing to matter; and that the abuse of children usually takes place not in silence and secrecy, concealed in ways which make it fine for adults not to notice it and not to intervene, but in plain sight.

this is knowledge it never hurts to refresh. thinking about lord voldemort's childhood might be an usual way of doing so... but it is an effective one nonetheless...

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Danny Phantom doesn’t want to be king.

And the Observants also don’t want him to be king.

Frankly, very VERY few people want him to be king, dead or alive.

But opening the sarcophagus, even if it’s closed NOW, disrupted some magic protections. Until those can be fixed, summoning spells need to be answered by SOMEONE. Not all of summons, just like—once a month or so. Because if they don’t let that power outlet happen, all of those summon magics build up and suddenly Pariah Dark reigns again. Answering the summon basically dispels the built up magic, like opening a dam.

Again, Danny doesn’t WANT to do this either, but everyone else involved is a bad choice. He won’t even be named prince, because THEN that implies he COULD be king. He needs a title, of some kind, a position in the court, no matter how tenuous, so he can do the thing. Something where no one in their right or even WRONG mind would think to try to kill him for the position or try to marry him or something equally annoying to deal with.

So.

He becomes the Ghost Court Jester.

He even gets a fancy little outfit upgrade when he’s summoned, all black and white bell hats and shoes, a stupid little ruffle collar and black parachute pants, even face paint with a tiny dot of glowing neon green at the tip of his nose. The works. Better yet, if he hasn’t been ‘unsummoned’, his human form is just the exact same costume with swapped colors. He can change into his normal outfits, but until that circle has been disrupted, the next summon, or the next full or new moon, he’s stuck into the outfit when he first transforms from either form.

The Phantom Jester, which is a title more intimidating than Danny appears to be if we are to be honest, cracks jokes and never, EVER takes the summons seriously.

“Listen, I just had to get my hours in and it’s the last day of the lunar month, you got lucky I came at all.”

“I got the position by virtue of not wanting to go to Time Jail for a crime I technically didn’t commit and technically probably won’t but, well, eyes are the beholder of the grudge or something else equally cryptic to make you mad.”

“Is this a slumber party? … do you have cake? Bummer. Well, enjoy the bleeding walls then.”

“Whether I help you or not is entirely dependent on how well of a run down you can give me on this book I have to read that I have not at all touched.”

“Explain the reason in three sentences or less. I suggest less. And if it’s stupid I’m hitting you—oh you think this circle can contain me? Haha. It won’t.”

“Is that chicken blood? Why?? What did the chickens do to you?”

There are props in his costume but he literally never knows what he’s gonna pull out of his sleeves. Danny can’t even do a balloon animal and knows exactly zero card tricks, which would be more of an issue if the cards weren’t the size of a dinner plate. He barely even juggles and he’s honestly probably just utilizing his rarely-used telekinetic powers, but he does give people flowers if they haven’t been a total jerk. And if those flowers are like, rare and have seeds for propagation, well… he literally wouldn’t know. No, really, he doesn’t. He gets summoned by at least two ecology departments and he has no idea why, I mean, if he had a nickel—

He also had pies and is NOT afraid to use them.

[flowercrowngods]

a tiny thing for @eddiemonth day 06: crush & sincere

“I will crush you beneath my heel like vermin.”

Like thunder, the evil wizard’s voice rolls over the battlefield, leaving fear in the heart of everyone who’s alive enough to hear it and rattling the bones of those who aren’t.

Men and women alike, soldiers and knights and able bodied young men, watch with bated breath as Sir Steven, the bravest of them all, rises to his feet again beside the black-clad wizard, his grip on his trusty sword never wavering as he wipes blood and sweat from his face.

There he stands, heroic as ever, meeting the evil wizard’s eyes with a heated glare of his own.

“Try,” he says, standing his ground as his voice, too, is carried over the battlefield. Carried, indeed, for the wind blows in his favour, the sun shines only for him, and the ground beneath his feet holds him up like a trusted friend, a most beloved brother.

Sir Steven reaches towards his neck, feeling the band of leather against overheated skin, a charm resting just above his heart — right where it belongs.

The wizard doesn’t have what he has.

***

A soft chuckle abruptly changes the scenery and rips Eddie into a different world once more; sun glazed battlefields replaced with the darkness of his room, hard soil replaced with the softness of his bed, and a knight turns into a beautiful boy wearing his favourite shirt.

“A magic used guitar pick necklace? Is that what the evil wizard king doesn’t have?”

Steve’s eyes are closed but the smile on his lips shines bright, and Eddie can’t even be mad about the interruption. He reaches out a hand and trails his fingers through Steve’s hair, gently combing back the locks sticking to his sweaty forehead. The smile dims a little, turning into something more genuine.

“I can’t believe you interrupted me at the best part there, Stevie. I was going to make a heroic entrance as a dragon shifter, called to the knight simply by touching the charm.” He keeps up his slow and gentle caresses, his hands trialing down to Steve’s cheeks and neck, where Eddie’s necklace clings to overheated skin indeed. “It means a lot, you know, a charm like that.”

Steve hums, moving closer to Eddie, seeking his warmth and his touch alike, and Eddie can’t possibly refuse him.

“It could save the world, you mean?”

“Hmm. The world. A young boy’s heart. And everything in between.”

Steve blindly reaches for Eddie’s hand and brushes a kiss to his knuckles, and another for good measure.

There’s a weight to their words that’s not meant for moments like this, but it hangs in the air nonetheless, and Eddie breathes it in. The weight of a past survived and a future acknowledging that. Both of them shared like this moment. A promise.

“So what happens next? With Sir Steven and the evil wizard, and with Eddie the dragon shifter. That’s very fitting, by the way, you little hoarder,” Steve laughs, still keeping his eyes closed, and Eddie can’t help but join in, overwhelmed with affection for this boy.

This sunshine boy who’s having a bad day and a fever but still manages to be the most radiant thing in the world. This wonderful boy who asked Eddie to stay and tell him a story until he falls asleep.

“Don’t feel good? Do you wanna stay in bed, baby?”

“Yeah. Can you stay?”

“Of course. Cuddles?”

“Could you maybe… Could you tell me a story?

“I’ll tell you any story you want, sunshine.”

This incredible, insufferable boy who’s too nosy and too sassy for his own good, interrupting Eddie here and there to ask questions or give a snarky little comment that’s dripping with fondness whether he’ll admit it or not.

This boy. His boy. With the smile and the wild bed head and the insistent tug on Eddie’s hand to tell him what happens next.

And so Eddie continues his story about the evil wizard being defeated and the world celebrating the heroics of the knight and his dragon and their unlikely band of friends. If he adds a little Lord of the Rings imagery here and there, Steve won’t know about it anyway.

Before he reaches the end, Steve’s hand goes slack where it’s tangled with Eddie’s, and his breath evens out, the smile never quite fading from his lips. Eddie keeps talking, though his voice is hushed now and thick with a smile of his own now.

He loves him. God, he loves him so, so much, he can barely stand it.

“Good night, Stevie,” he whispers even though it’s barely three in the afternoon. He gets up and out of bed, tucking the blanket around Steve’s sleeping form and brushing one more kiss to his hair before sneaking out of the room on slow, quiet steps.

Outside, Wayne is reading a book on the porch, a cigarette in his hand. Eddie snatches one from the pack and leans over his old man to brush a kiss to his hair, too, feeling far too full of affection right now and needing to let it out. There is a sincerity inside him that needs to be shared.

Wayne lets out a gruff kind of hum, but Eddie isn’t so easily fooled, smiling as he lights his cig.

“How’s your boy?” Wayne asks.

“Asleep for now.”

“Good.” There’s a moment of silence between them and Eddie closes his eyes against the afternoon sun for a moment, drawn back to his story. “You let me know if he needs anything.”

“Of course. Thanks, Wayne.”

“Sure. Just wouldn’t wanna be crushed like vermin, is all.”

The laugh bubbles out of Eddie before he can help it, sincerity replaced by something lighter, something manageable for now as he lets his uncle bully him for telling ridiculous stories to the boy he loves so endlessly.

[signedmio]

Hey I was wondering if I could have head cannons with Vox, Alastor, & Angel Dust and their reaction to their wedding ring breaking/losing it as like a spinoff to the proposing and wedding head cannons. With a GN! reader please.

Take your time and remember to take care of yourself.

I love your work and keep it up!💚😊

this is cute, but also a bit sad to me 😭😭 hope you enjoy !!

Warnings: None(?)

Vox, Alastor, and Angel Dust x Spouse!Reader who broke their wedding ring

Vox

He can’t help but be a bit annoyed about the ring, honestly, he has no clue how you broke it to begin with

And let’s be real, it was most likely a pretty hefty price, but whenever he gets around to it, due to work preventing him from getting to it as soon as he’d like to, he buys you another one

This one more beautiful and shinier than before, hoping this sways you to make sure nothing happens to it this time…

Alastor

Not to worry, Alastor takes little-no offense to it! He has the magic and power to literally get a new one within seconds

Whatever your preference may be, with a snap of his fingers, he’ll either mend the old ring back into shape, or create a new one entirely with the magic from his staff

The reason why he doesn’t take offense to it, is because it doesn’t take a lot out of him to fix the issue, and he never understood the emotional side of marriage anyway, so he’s not all that hurt

Angel Dust

Angel is most likely the most upset out of the three about the ring, but he’s not mad at you, just the situation.

He doesn’t have as much cash as you think, despite being a pornstar, Val ends up taking most of his earnings from him

So honestly, spending a shit ton of money, isn’t really Angel’s thing.

As much as he wanted you to, and still does, want you to have the best ring, he does end up having to buy you a cheaper one, not that money is equal to his love for you!

He reassures you that he’s not mad, but also is sure to tell you to be careful

[ma1dita]

heavy hitter

part one can be found here!

this was a request, find it here!

words: 3.5k (yall im so sorry)

summary: james potter x beater!reader James might’ve won the game, but he needs to let people know he has the girl too.

warnings: smut. minors DNI. afab!reader, p in v, pwp, unprotected sex (wrap b4 u tap) locker room sex, creampie, oral (m!receiving) reader is a brat… this is nasty don’t look at me (jesus tagging this is crazy)

a/n: …. what plot? i wanted to write angst again but got bored so… *jazz hands* erm…. this is my first smut fic, i’ll go crawl in a hole now

(posted 12/19/23 not edited will return)

—

Hitting the shower was James’ chance of washing his anger away before seeing you again tonight. He always gave quidditch his 110% percent, but something animalistic rose out of him when he saw you get manhandled by Wilkins, his team keeper. And regardless of the Gryffindor win, he was planning to chew off his ear later, whether it be with extra laps at the next practice or a good ol’ fashioned wallop to the head. But this anger wasn’t due to a foul play, not even because you got hurt (your arm was clearly fine since you used it to swing your bat at Wilkins’ head after). What got James mad was the fact you ripped your jersey.

No, actually, it was definitely because of what happened after that.

He’s not the type of boyfriend to decline you showing a little extra skin, but any fantasy that entered his mind was quickly cleared away when he saw you re-emerge from the locker rooms wearing your teammate’s jersey. McGonagall said it would be the only way to let you play the rest of the game since there’s no magic allowed on the field, but ever the rulebreaker, James thought that was absolute bullshit.

He rinses the shampoo out of his mop of curls as he thinks about that tosser whose name he can’t even remember. The guy was way too eager to give you his jersey, flirting with you at practices and just not taking a hint. Everyone knew you’d been dating him for a while now, and of course, James knows you can handle yourself, but there are just some things he can’t let slide. Namely, assholes that can’t take a hint. Also, he was a benchwarmer at most. Cocky motherfucker.

Watching you fly around with some other guy’s last name on your back did terrible things to James’ ego. The blur of suds pool at his feet, circling down the drain as he takes a deep breath. He’s got it bad for you, but luckily you like him enough to call him yours.

The Gryffindor locker room was empty by now with everyone too eager to celebrate their win. It was his last year as team captain and at Hogwarts in general, so he should be right up there drinking with all of them, but James really needed to let off some steam.

“Babe?” Your voice calls from the doorway, echoing against the empty walls. Condensation drips off the door handle as you take a peek to see the one shower going in the corner. What was taking him so long? You saw the rest of the team leave without him and they were trying to drag you to celebrate with them, but with your boyfriend still drowning himself in the stall….

“Over here love,” he calls out, hearing your sandals clomp against the wet tile as you turn the corner.

“You almost done? We have a party to get to, Jamie.”

The falling water makes it a bit hard to hear you, so he pops his head out from behind the curtain and squints at your frame. You giggle and pull his chin closer for a few quick kisses.

“Is that your jersey?”

His lips feel so soft against yours as you get distracted, slipping your tongue into his mouth instead of giving him a proper answer. Godric you’re good at that. James’ wet hand quickly pushes the curtain open grabbing at your ass and tucking you against his naked body, soaking the front of you in the process. A muffled yelp escapes you as your body adjusts to the temperature and the feeling of his semi-hard dick against your front.

“No, coach still has mine and I have to return this to Steven after.” You say calmly, smiling against his cheek as he sucks at your neck. He would’ve enjoyed getting lost in the scent of your still-damp hair, but your statement makes him stop as he bites at your pulse point. A whimper leaves your mouth.

“Why the fuck are you still wearing whatshisname’s jersey?”

James’s hands trail up your back to feel the embroidered letters against your back, and he swears his eye twitches. The incredulous look on his face makes you hold back your laughter.

“Steven. You know him! Don’t tell me this is a big deal for you, baby. You know I couldn’t magically fix mine during the game…”

Your hands trace down his slippery biceps as he unconsciously ruts against your belly, cock now at full attention from rubbing up against you. Your nipples are pebbled up under the material of the jersey, soaked from your less-than-innocent embrace, and he lifts a hand to brush over them, making you groan.

“Definitely not. I wouldn’t get jealous of a prick like him…” He scoffs, hands going back down to fist the fabric over your hips, “Not a big deal at all.”

“Mhmmm… I’ve got a way to make it up to you, even if it’s not a big deal.” You muse, fingers reaching to tease his swollen head as James exhales harshly.

“I’d hope this is a big deal for you, baby. Would want nothing more,” he breathes, pushing your back against the wall.

“You just want me to say your dick is big.”

The both of you laugh before he tugs the jersey over your head, ripping it in the process.

“James!”

He shrugs, burrowing his head into your breasts and lapping at your right bud. You moan, shoving your shorts down past your ankles before pulling his hair away from your chest.

“Mmmm…fuck, babe. I’m supposed to be congratulating you right now!”

Your hands push at his torso slightly as you fall to your knees, placing yourself onto your sandals. Gentle hands graze his thighs, as he feels your nose bump into his cock. The water hits James’ back perfectly, and the sensation of your hand pumping and sliding along his length makes him almost feral, shutting his eyes in pleasure.

“You played so well today baby… deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Your tongue slips out from behind your lips to lick the underside of his length, holding yourself there as you look up at him to answer. Droplets cascade down his pecs as he breathes heavily at the feeling, precum leaking from his cockhead. James hisses as you tap him against your tongue.

“Fuck, baby. Need your mouth right now.” He can feel you grin against his girth before his cock disappears into your mouth, hot and warm, and his instinct is to grab your hair. Goosebumps rise on the parts of him untouched by the shower. Your throat rumbles with a groan as you let him work himself down into your throat, the resistance waning as your jaw slackens. Cheeks hollowing, your lips retract with a pop.

“Like that, Jamie?” you say, reaching around to massage his balls as your tongue continues to play with the long vein that runs along the surface of his cock. It’s hard to fit all of him in your mouth, fingers barely able to wrap around it, much less the rest of you. His hand massages the part where your mouth hinges open, squeezing your cheeks around him as he fucks into you with a bated sigh.

“You always take me so well, baby. You can handle more, that’s it,” he pants, biting his lip as you concentrate real hard on letting him use you, the corners of your eyes watering. His heart is racing now as his hips piston to the noises that come gurgling from your throat and he almost slips before his reflexes help him catch the back of your head before it bangs into the stall wall. A loud moan sputters from around his cock as your eyes roll back, and the lack of oxygen makes you press your fingernails into his quads harshly.

He pulls out from between your lips, cradling your chin as the both of you catch your breath, coughing a little.

“You okay? Mouth so good I lost my footing.” All you can do is laugh hoarsely as he grins boyishly before you realize he’s not wearing his glasses.

“Can you even see me? S’bit cold down here, Mr. MVP.”

He pulls you up, strong hands lifting you at your armpits until you stand in front of him, reaching over to grab his glasses from the shower shelf. You slide them on as water sprays onto them slightly as he shifts, blinking at you in clearer vision.

“There’s my boy,” you whisper, cupping his jaw and slotting your lips between his once more. You could kiss James forever, all muscles and hard exterior, but everything else, his lips down to his insides feel and go soft for you. He groans lowly and it rumbles between the both of you, before the slick motions against your core remind you of something else that’s really hard right now.

“All for you,” he sighs, hands gripping onto your hips with a force that you think they’ll bruise tomorrow, and you love having physical reminders of him wherever you go. Huh, maybe he is jealous. And if not, he’s possessive. It makes your cunt pulse harder just thinking about it, your arousal helping his head slide nicely against your bundle of nerves and the softness of your stomach.

“I’m yours, you know that right?” Not replying, he instead inhales the sweat from your neck, following it with a dip of his tongue up towards your ear.

“James.”

Your boyfriend scoffs lightly, a small smirk on his face as he pulls your chin up to meet him at eye level. You’re so gorgeous like this, just letting him do what he wants to you. Always so reassuring of his needs. His thumb rubs against your bottom lip before you open your mouth and swirl your tongue around clean skin.

“Just feels like I have to remind you sometimes, pretty girl. Can’t let everyone walk around thinking you’re not mine.”

“I wouldn’t mind a reminder. Some marks would be nice too,” you grin, biting at his lip while your hands stroke him slowly, your own knees buckling in excitement.

“Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Brat.” James hoists your legs over his hips, slamming your back into the wall as you squeak. Sandwiched between the warmth of his body and the cold of the shower wall, your eyes roll back as he eases his cock between your dripping folds, moans falling from your lips when he sinks into you, inch by inch.

His girth always has a way of stretching you open, and every time feels like the first as he taps at your thigh reminding you to take deep breaths. Fuck the party, you could stay here all night.

“Fill you up so nicely…we’re almost there, good girl.” His voice shakes, wanting to slam the rest of him straight into your cervix.

Your hands are gripping his shoulders until you finally feel him nudge the deepest parts of you, and you sigh when it all fits. Perfect.

“Always so big Jamie. Almost too much.” He kisses your cheek, hips starting to create a rhythm as he mutters into your ear.

“Not too much for my girl. Just perfect. Perfect pussy for this cock. All for you,” he grits, skin sliding and slapping as your thighs get pressed into your chest with the intense force he’s plunging into your guts.

“James, fuck….fuck you’re so deep! Feels so fucking good!” Filthy whimpers leave you and he loves the sound of your desperation when he’s inside of you like this. Too bad there’s no one else here to hear it. If Steven could only see you now.

“Such a good cunt for me to use. Only mine.”

He gasps for air as his feet slip against the tile once more, his heavy breathing fogging up his glasses, and his hold on you just as tight as your grip on his cock. Shit. His heart almost fell through his ass.

Your eyes open to see him struggling and a giggle escapes your mouth as you watch the stupid fucked out look on his face.

“How do people even fuck in the shower? This shit’s dangerous. Don't wanna maim the Gryffindor captain again.”

Your laughter sends jolts down to his throbbing shaft and he shakes his head with a smile, parting the curtain with one hand before carrying you still impaled on him towards the metal benches, placing you down softly.

“At least you finally admit it was your fault, baby. Could barely see straight for a week after.”

He wipes his glasses between his fingers before gazing at you lying across the bench, legs spread and ready for him. What a woman.

“And here I am hoping that when you’re done with me I won’t be able to walk for a week after,” you breathe, hands squeezing your tits as his pupils dilate further at the sight of you. What a fucking witch!

“Fucking hell, you know I love you, right?”

James positions himself over you, kissing your ankle as he sheathes himself back into your sex, resuming his brutal pace and hurtling you quickly towards your peak.

“Y-yes! Merlin, fuck I… looove you!” you wail, hips rolling to meet his and his balls strike your ass hard with each thrust. Your insides are being shifted around with him spearing your cervix like this and there’s nothing in this world that you could name that’s able to compare to how he makes you feel.

Your pussy contracts as he somehow nestles himself deeper, body trembling in this position as he throws your left leg over his shoulder, lips chasing your nipples trying to suck the life out of you, and perhaps that was his plan so you could forget anyone else but him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, James. Don’t you fucking DARE!” you beg, clawing your way down his back, making him nip at you in pleasure as you draw pinpricks of blood.

The tight pressure of release starts creeping at your core, making you squirm under him but he pins your waist down harder to the bench, the metal leaving prints against your flesh. His hands press harder on your stomach, silently encouraging you to cum and you can feel the imprint of his dick bulging from inside your stomach.

“Don’t struggle for me baby, just let it go. I know you wanna cum…. That’s it.” James praises in a shattered breath, watching you writhe underneath him as he holds you close. Your legs are shaking as your vision goes black for a moment, cunt gushing with release and squirt coats his pubic hair as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You lay there, catching your breath as the stars clear from your vision, and you look up at him stroking himself to the sight of you coming undone.

“Sheesh, look at the mess you made. You okay?”

“More than okay, Jamie. Need you to finish the job,” you tease, toes grazing the skin of his hip and he slaps at your thigh with a smile.

“Insatiable minx. Turn around then, ass up f’me.”

You do as he says, getting on all fours and showing him the perfect round of your asscheeks, covered in milky residue from your recent orgasm, but you turn to look at him when he doesn’t come near.

“Babe?”

His locker clinks open as he pulls a fresh jersey out, walking back to you and guiding it over your head and arms as you smile, pecking his cheek. Your silly boy. There was no way you actually thought you hated him this time last year with how sweet he really is. His large hand grazes the embroidered patches now resting on your back, POTTER, in huge white letters, CAPTAIN, now resting at the base of your spine.

James’ eyes drift lower and he hums at the sight of you perched on the bench, dropping his face to your throbbing holes and taking a long swipe with the flat of his tongue as he savors your taste along with the sounds of your whining. From your swollen clit to the ring of your asshole he’s languishing in a flavor that’s so uniquely you, and he pulls back, smacking his lips.

“Scrumptious. How are you hotter with clothes on?” James grins, taking a playful bite of an asscheek before he slaps it lightly and stuffs you deep, without any further hesitation. Your sarcastic reply is lost in a moan that makes your toes curl.

He works you open onto his cock again, your back arching desperately to be as close as possible and his hand presses you down, sliding up your spine until his fingers curl around strands of your hair. Tits swinging until they’re crushed against the bench, your face is smooshed as you mumble pathetically in his grasp.

“What was that baby? Can’t hear you well…” He spits at you, and if anyone could see this they’d know he was enjoying the sight of you at his mercy. He grinds his shaft against your walls, ramming against your g-spot and you drool like a mindless plaything, greedy for his attention.

“Right…right fucking there, ohmygod!” His cock pummels your cunt deliciously, hands spreading your cheeks wide and the stretch is so good, perfectly stroking the need in your belly.

“You’re so needy, pretty girl. You love it like this, huh? Good thing I fuck you so well, right?”

Merlin, this boy can pull orgasms out of you as well as he plays quidditch. He’s the only person in the world you’d gladly submit and be this pathetically cockdrunk for. Good thing he's yours.

“Yes…yes! So good Jamie. No one can fuck me like you….”

The white-hot sensation digs at your insides as his fingers fall to your clit, rubbing at you just the way you like as shockwaves shake every crevice of your being. He's breathing over your neck, hot air puffing and elevating your senses before they shut down completely.

“Yeah? Then come on my cock again right now. Show me you like it that much. Now.”

Your arms give out, falling completely forward as your body jerks in searing pleasure, pussy fluttering around his cock once more, so intensely. Your hands flail behind you until they find his, and he's pulling you up against his hard chest as he bounces you onto his length and chases his high.

“Give it to me, please, please… I can take it!” You’re screaming now, at the intersection between pain and pleasure but wanting to make sure you can milk him for his efforts. James’ thrusts stagger as he leans his head on your shoulder, biting you as he cums hard.

“I know you can, baby. All yours…” he chokes out.

Thick white ropes coat your insides, wrapping you tight around him like a present until the excess seeps out to the base of his cock. You kiss his temple as James starts to regulate his breathing.

“Fuck. Fuck….” you drag out, the two of you more winded than you were playing the damn game.

“I still have to return Steven’s jersey,” you mumble, and James can’t do anything but smirk at the thought of the clueless boy standing outside your House's locker room while he fucked you senseless a few doors over. What a shame.

—

The two of you walk hand in hand into the Gryffindor common room to a crowd of students cheering for James. The party is well underway and many hands clap his now injured back, to which his grimaces make you bite back a laugh. Speaking of bites….

Sirius walks up to you with two cups of punch, wide grey eyes zeroed in on you wearing James’s jersey and the glaring red marks of your boyfriend’s teeth on your neck.

“Merlin. I thought you two would take time to celebrate on your own but did you fucking attack her?”

You both take the cups out of his hands, searing blushes on your faces and leave Sirius to his own imagination before James whispers in your ear that he’ll be gone for a moment.

“Okay, but hurry back, baby.”

A peck on the lips sends him on his way to walk straight towards that wanker–er, Steven with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Potter! Have you seen–” the dumb boy says eagerly, before James cuts in, “Yeah, my girlfriend couldn’t meet you earlier, sorry mate.”

His hand digs into the undetectable extension charm in his knapsack, pulling out a soggy, ripped jersey.

“We were kind of busy, but you know how to fix that don’t you? You’ll need it to keep you warm on the bench for the rest of the season after all.”

It plops sadly onto the floor in front of the guy, and James looks at him, hazel eyes conveying what he knows he doesn’t have to remind him anymore.

“Thanks again! Appreciate you looking out for my girl.”

He walks away from Steven, who’s sputtering sad excuses and your eyes meet his as James finds you near the drinks table.

“What did you do?” You say with a lifted brow.

“Nothing, pretty girl. Just making known what’s mine.”

—

"you are pressing against me

like i press flowers

against the pages in my book.

you are kissing my neck

and it feels like the start of forever.

i want to touch you until my palms burn."

-amirae garcia

taglist (OPEN): @jsjcue

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Favorite Buddie fics of 2023!

Every single year at @epicstuckyficrecs I used to do a fic rec at the end of the year with my favorite fics. I figured I should keep the tradition going! So, without further ado, these are my favorite Buddie fics (in no particular order) published in 2023! (you can also check out some other favorite Buddie fics of mine here)

If you have any favorites that aren't in this list, don't hesitate to share them in the comments! :)

Complete

find a way to you (if it kills me) by foxwatson/ @eddiediazes (Post S6E13: Mixed Feelings, Pining | 19K | Mature): the one where eddie decides to start dating again, buck figures out his own feelings just a minute too late, and then he spends a week going through the five stages of grief

let the world have its way with you by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-Coma AU | 54K | Explicit): or, a bucket list that’s really about buck needing to make a change and an eddie who’s ready to do anything to see him fall in love with life again. it takes some crossing off for eddie to realise—the thing at the top of the list in his own heart? it’s been right here all along

Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Time Travel, Post-Season 6, Getting together | 80K | Teen): When Eddie starts seeing a new therapist, he’s presented with the opportunity to revisit several days from his past and right regrets that still bother him. OR: Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica.

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Coma AU, Multiverse | 58K | Teen): After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 51K | Explicit): or, evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

Both Blade and Branch by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S6 | 62K | Mature): The chances of being struck by lightning twice are incredibly minute, but Buck still manages to pull it off. During a double date with Marisol and Natalia, nonetheless. Eddie manages to resuscitate him, but as Buck recovers from yet another trauma, Eddie can’t help but notice there’s something very different about him. He’s not quite sure what version of Buck he got back.

where all of the people dancing and clapping would greet me with such warmth by trysetmeonfire/ @try-set-me-on-fire (Season 6, Magical Realism | 15K | Mature): In the fall, Buck begins to disappear. (Part 2 of All I Am, All That I Am)

Nothing Left But You by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars ("Blip" AU | 27K | Teen | Warning: MCD): In May of 2021, 25% of Earth's population suddenly disappears. Including Eddie. In May of 2026, they all come back. Eddie finds himself suddenly in the middle of a world he doesn't recognize, where the people he loves most have changed significantly.

Your Love is an Oil Slick (It Glows like Rainbows, It Stains My Soul) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Canon Divergent - Supernatural Elements, Ghost Buck | 67K | Explicit): When Eddie's son claims he has an imaginary friend, Eddie doesn't think much of it. Christopher is seven, it's what kids do. But then weird things start happening around the house, and Eddie starts dreaming about a handsome blue-eyed man. Turns out, Christopher's friend isn't so imaginary. Their house is haunted.

come with me, together, we can take the long way home series by allisonRW96/ @homerforsure (Canon compliant | 105K | T to M):

Get me through the night; Make me feel alright (Post-S3 Finale | 11K | Mature): After an emotionally-gutting reunion with Abby, Buck turns to old coping mechanisms. Eddie helps him find a better way. In Uncertain Times, The Uncertain Rules Apply (Pre-S4 | 22K | Teen): Covid comes to LA. Eddie copes. Or doesn't. Holding out for Something More (Stuck in Reverse) (Post S4E3/Lone Star Crossover | 26K | Teen): LA is coming out of lockdown and the world is returning to some sense of normalcy. But going back to the way things were hurts more than Buck expected. While his therapist challenges him to confront what he really wants, the team takes a trip to Austin... and El Paso. so far from being free (S4E4: 9-1-1 What's Your Grievance?, S4E5: Buck Begins | 46K | Teen): That’s Daniel. He was our brother. Buck doesn’t know what to do with the past tense. He never had a brother. He’s always had a brother. He gained one and lost one in the same breath and it feels impossible.

Kink Club AU series by Princessfbi/ @princessfbi (Canon Divergent - Different First Meeting, BDSM, Dom Eddie, Sub Buck | Complete | Explicit): Canon compliant one shots where Eddie works at a Kink Club as a side hustle and meets Buck there before his first shift in 2x01.

The Warmth (of You) (25K): aka where Buck and Eddie first meet at a kink club before the firehouse To Weather the Storm (With You) (21K): aka the fallout of Buck finding out the dom he met at a Kink Club is his new coworker Safe Here (With You) (20K): aka Buck and Eddie handle working a shift after their first scene The Building Pressure (of You) (15K): aka Buck reaches out to Eddie after he leaves Abby's place in 2x07 An Offer to Torment (You) (14K): aka Eddie is all twisted up inside about what to do with Shannon. Buck offers himself up for some much needed holiday stress relief.

like when the sun came out by spaceprincessem/ @spaceprincessem (Canon Divergent, Ghosts | 39K | Mature): Evan gave up trying to explain what happens to him after his parents forced him to have a talk with one of their friends, supposedly a pediatric therapist, and cruelly hinted that if Evan didn’t stop seeing and talking about his “invisible friends” as if they were real then his parents would send him far away to places where they lock children up in padded rooms. “Look,” Evan says quickly, forcing out the words before he gets too scared to speak,” I—I know this is going to sound crazy, but, um, ever since I was a kid I can see ghosts.”

tomorrow will always and forever now be today (tomorrow is our always and forever) by withmeornotatall/ @chronicowboy (Post-S6, Time Loop | 43K | Mature): eddie gets trapped in a time loop on the day buck marries natalia

All My Shattered Oaths by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Vampires AU | 107K | Explicit): Eddie wants to stay away from his family’s legacy and give his son a normal life. Buck’s desperate to find a way to get over the love he lost. Fate has other plans for both of them.

Don't They Know It's the End of the World? by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Fallout 4 AU, Post-Apocalyptic | 32K | Mature | Warning: Violence): After being put in a cryogenic sleep for over a hundred years to wait out an apocalyptic event, Eddie Diaz wakes up, too early, to find his son has been stolen from his cryo-chamber. Scared and alone in a frightening world he doesn't recognize, Eddie is willing to do anything to get his kid back.

but i can see all along, love (it was you all the way down) by diazchristopher/ @captain-hen (Post-S6, Time Loop | 28K Mature): He puts his laptop away after a bit, and paces the length of his apartment as he tries to take stock of the situation at hand. One: The date is March 22nd, 2024. Two: It has been March 22nd for 3 days now. Three: Buck is trapped in some kind of time loop that is forcing him to relive this day. Four: Eddie is, apparently, in love with him. And. And. Five: Buck doesn’t feel the same way.

WIP

And here are my favorite WIP that I really hope will continue to be updated in 2024! 🤞

for all the haunts and homes of men by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Apocalyptic, Station Eleven Crossover | WIP | 11/? | 96K | Mature | Warning: Violence): The year by the old calendar is 2025. Home is gone. Home is a failed rescue mission and an echo of a memory. Home is a lost boy living in a wooden house by the sea. But first, there was a promise. Christopher, when it's safe, I'll take you back to your father. Buck had all but given up on keeping it after the world had died and everyone in it. But just as some oaths refuse to be forgotten, so the same can be said about the endurance of love.

Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon, S1 through S6 | 104/? | 283K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

Precious & Fragile Things by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Small Miracles AU, Angel Buck | 10/? | 25K | Teen): Buck is the Fallen Angel of Petty Temptation, who has been tasked with tempting human Eddie Diaz to sin and enjoy life, but just a little. He thinks the job will be easy - get in, get out, go back to Peru to continue messing around with eternity. But when Buck arrives in Los Angeles, he finds Eddie is harder to tempt than expected, and more compelling than Buck had hoped.

Right Where You Left Me by hyacinthusbloom/ @thebloomingheather (Canon Divergent, Post-S4, Angst | 89K | 20/? | Explicit | Warning: Rape/Non-con): "Therapy?" Eddie suggests. Buck almost laughs, but instead says, "I'll go if you go." Because he had fully expected him to be chicken shit, to disagree, and instead Eddie, the bastard, replies, "Deal." Or Buck never tells anyone that he slept with his therapist and deals with the butterfly effect years later.

Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Demon Buck, Canon Divergent | 7/? | 12K | Teen): Buck is a demon with the power to help with pregnancy, childbirth, and infant health. When the Buckleys make a deal asking for someone to help 'save their baby', Buck leaps at the chance as it will give him what he's always wanted: a life on earth. But demon deals are tricky and neither of them gets quite what they're after. This is Buck's journey as he navigates growing up on earth and remembering how to help those in need.

[luimagines]

You’re Turned into a Kid Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2 will include Sky, Four and Legend!

Content under the cut!

Sky

Sky tried his best to keep his smile off of his face when he heard little giggles coming from behind him. He felt his sailcloth move and suddenly there were little hands on his back, still giggling to themselves.

Keeping it cool, he keep whittling away on the tree branch Wild was kind enough to give him.

“Gotcha!” You cried, poking his sides. He jumped enough to make it seem like he hadn’t known you were there the whole time and turned to you with his grin on his face. “Did I scare you?”

“Yes you did.” Sky chuckles, moving his arm up to get a better look at you. “what are you doing back there, huh?”

You laugh some more, throwing the sailcloth over your head to “hide”. Sky snorts and returns to whittle the branch.

“Mr. Sky?” You ask him, poking your head out but wrapping the sailcloth around your arms. “What are you doing?”

Sky moves the knife away from your reach and shows you his work. “I’m try to make a little bird friend.”

You tilt your head. “...That doesn’t look like a bird at all.”

Sky snorts. “Well not at the moment. I’ve just started not too long ago.”

He moves aside his sailcloth, taking it away from you before he pats the spot next to him. “You’re free to watch me if you’d like. It won’t take too long until it starts to look like a bird.”

You sit down with little more invitation, hopping so that your legs are touching, clearing wanting to see as much as you can. the idea of watching the bird show more and more is intriguing. You’re not sure how he’s going to do it.

Sky goes back to work quickly, letting you tug on his arm so that he can bring his work even closer to you. He has to be a little more careful with the stroke of his blade though, less the woods chips go flying into either of you, but he’s happy that you’re showing an interest.

Soon, the familiar shape of a loftwing begins to take shape.

“That doesn’t look like a bird!” You cry out, feeling cheated. “What is it really?”

“It is a bird.” Sky shakes his head with an easy going smile on his face. “It’s a loftwing. Where I’m from-” And wow, isn’t that a weird thing to say? “-everyone has their other half. They say our halves are out loftwings. We use them to fly in the sky and get from island to island.”

You don’t seem to believe him. “There’s no islands in the sky.”

“Yes there is.” Many other Links answer in unison. Sky didn’t know he had this many people listening to your conversations.

“Oh.” You shrink down, embarrassed at being called out. “But we can’t see them.”

“Correct.” They answer again.

Sky bites his lip, trying to not laugh- or maybe he’s trying to not cry. Who knows? He takes a deep breath and works on the bird a little more.

“Alright!” Hyrule calls out. “I think I figured it out! We can turn them back to normal now!”

You’re quickly called to where he is. You don’t seem to realize what he’s talking about, only that something is going to happen.

“Mr. Sky?” You tug on his sleeve. “When I come back, will you show me the islands in the sky?”

Something tugs on his heart. “Of course, sweetheart. Whenever you want.”

Four

“Hey, you’re little!” You shouted, running up to Four. You put your hand over your head and slowly outstretched your arm to see where you matched with his height.

He was still taller by you, but you enthralled by the lack of distance between the two of you. A joyous laugh tumbled out of your mouth. This was apparently very amusing to you.

Four couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed or mad. “Yeah. We’re almost the same height, huh?”

“But you’re a big kid, right?” You grin, latching onto his arm without a second thought. Hyrule makes the gesture for Four to keep you there as he slowly lets the magic seep out through his hands towards you. Distract you, he’s saying, don’t let you move too much.

Four nods and grins your way. “I’m older than you’d think I am. Do you want to guess?”

You take it as a challenge and put on your best thinking face. Four doesn’t want to interrupt you as you try to get the closest possible guess. You don’t seem to come to an answer you’re happy with. You try to get hints out of him instead. “Are you my age?”

Four snorts. “How old are you?”

“Seven!”

“Not even close. Higher.” Four laughs. “Try again.”

You huff and put you finger to your chin, thinking very deeply about the matter. “You’re a lot older than me then? Hmmm...”

Four watched you with a curious look. You’re a cute kid. How on earth did you get swept up into this like the rest of them?

“Eleven?” You try again.

Four snort and shakes his head. “Try again.”

You seem shocked that you were wrong. Maybe he was an even bigger kid? You think about it again and Four has to bite his lip to try and keep a straight face. So cute~

“Fifteen?”

“Closer but no.”

You frown and look to the ground, you let him go and put your hands on his hips. “...You’re an old man.”

“Hey!”

Hyrule starts giggling uncontrollably. Four looks at the other hero with a (frankly harmless) glare. You seem to start giggling as well. Four is melted by the sound and he shakes his head. “I’m not even the oldest of the group.”

You look around and spot Time easily but you turn back to Four with a large grin on your face. “But you’re like me! And we’re better than them.” 

Four snorts and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “You know what? Yes, we are.”

Legend

This felt weird.

He knew it was you, and you still looked like you- but his heart squeezed at the sight of you.

You were cute... but he had no idea what to do any more. He’s not the best with kids even if he wanted to befriend them.

To his luck or to his misfortune, you seemed more than willing to latch onto him and stick to his hip.

“Why is your hair pink?” Was what had to be your seventh thousand question of the hour. Legend inwardly winced, not sure how to broach that subject. IT’s not like you were at the age to understand the entire complexities of transfiguration magic and different world and portal.

But he also didn’t have the heart to lie to you.

“A friend of mine wanted my hair pink.” He says through gritted teeth, looking as much of a liar as his voice gives away. Some other members (especially those who know the truth) laugh to themselves, no doubt hold back from outwardly calling him out.

His answers seems to stump you for a second. At first you looked ready to accept it but then you questioned him again. “Why?”

Legend sighed. “I have no idea, buddy. Your guess is as good as mine.”

You pouted and crossed your arms, thinking some more. “But why would they want your hair to be pink? They should make their hair pink instead.”

“Agreed.” He runs his hand down his face, smiling tiredly. “I couldn’t agree more if I tried. I’m just waiting until the color goes away.”

“Why?”

Oh my goodness, Legend bites his cheek. “Uhh.. Because I don’t want my hair to be pink.”

“Oh.” You reach up and grab the hem of his sleeve, moving a little quicker before you could be left behind. Legend slows down for your sake, letting you catch up to him before he starts moving at your pace. 

You look up at him and smile down at you, trying to not show how awkward he is. You nod once to yourself and smile brightly right back to him. “I like the pink. You look nice.”

Legend sighed, feeling the tips of his ears go pink to match the subject of the conversation. “Thank you...”

You giggle and turn to look forward. “Will the big puppy come back again?”

Legend sends a knowing glare when Twilight sends him a knowing smirk. “No, I don’t think he will. It seems he wants you to stay with us for the time being, so he’s playing keep away.”

“What do that mean?” You tilt your head.

Twilight snorts. “Legend would get jealous if you play with Wolfie all the time.”

Legend grits his teeth, a foul mouthed word on the tip of his tongue. He holds himself back. “Very funny. I don’t actually mind at all.”

You don’t seem to catch what either of them are implying. “That’s ok. I like Legend more anyway!”

Twilight starts snickering while Legend fumbles over his own two feet. 

Oh my, you’re so cute.  

Part 3

[t4t4tclethian]

The moment Joel realizes he has a crush on xB is, objectively, quite a funny one. He’d almost certainly be laughing about it if it had been anyone else. As it is, though, he’s hopping mad, extremely indignant, and deeply embarrassed about the whole thing. Who ever heard of a hitman falling for their mark? (Well, a lot of people have- it’s a whole romance cliche for a reason. But it wasn’t supposed to actually happen!)

(ao3 link)

————————————————

It had all started a few days earlier, when Joel had been hanging out with the other Magical Mountaineers in the breakroom. Gem and Impulse were poring over some papers together, Skizz was on a phone call in the corner, Mumbo was politely watching as Scar fumbled through some magic tricks, and Grian was sitting on the couch with Joel, listening to him rant about his failures at killing xB (he’d drawn the short straw). Everything was normal.

And then, when Joel paused his tirade to take a breath, Grian said those fatal words. “From the way you talk about this guy, Joel, it’s almost like you’ve got a crush on the mark!”

Which was ridiculous, of course! He does blummin’ not, thank you! His relationship with xB was a perfectly platonic contract killing, and Joel is a professional! He knows better than to fall for his target, and he indignantly tells Grian as much.

But, of course, Grian is Grian, and the second he senses he’s touched a nerve he doubles down. And so he did.

“Contract killing? Give me a break, Joel! Your contract on this guy expired ages ago, and you’re not the type to work for free.” Grian’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he continued to needle at Joel. “Admit it, there’s something else going on here, isn’t there?”

Joel spluttered, and took a deep breath as he glanced around the room. Fuck. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to listen in on him and Grian now. He had to say something to throw them off or he would never be able to live this conversation down.

“My contract might be done, but unlike some people I finish the things I start, thank you very much!”

Grian squawked in indignation, and as he did so the others chuckled and turned back to their own conversations, unfounded accusations of romance forgotten. Grian’s tendency to leave things unfinished was well-known, and something that every assassin at Magic Mountain had teased him over many times.

But that thought refused to leave his brain. It had wiggled its way in like a worm. Did he have a crush on xB? Is that why he kept coming back when any sane person would’ve just given it up already? And the answer, of course, is no. All of Joel’s actions here have perfectly reasonable and professional explanations.

————————————————————

Joel waits patiently on the rooftop across from Horse Head Farmer’s Market (which, despite the name, is actually a grocery store/money laundering scheme, not a farmer’s market), rifle at the ready, just as he has been for the past three and a half hours. You can’t rush a good sniping, after all, and xB’s schedule varies enough that Joel’s never quite sure when he’ll head out for lunch. (He’s pretty sure xB has done this specifically to spite Joel- the guy’s obsessed with him.)

Yes! Finally! xB steps out of the store, starts walking down the street, and- turns to look at Joel’s rooftop, makes direct eye contact with him, and gives him a friendly little wave, the infuriatingly sincere kind that makes Joel want to kill him even more. Dammit. He’s been caught. Also, wow, even from here Joel is a little wowed by how blue xB’s eyes are. Or maybe he’s just remembering how they look, because there’s no way Joel can actually see his eyes from here. They are definitely a very nice blue, though, and oh, huh, Joel realizes that Lizzie has blue eyes, too. Maybe he’s got a thing for blue-eyed people, and- OH SHIT RIGHT HE’S KILLING THIS GUY.

Joel fires, because even if he’s been discovered a vantage point is still a vantage point. Of course, xB somehow manages to not be in the bullet’s path, just like he always does, and then he gives Joel a disapproving look, like he’s actually disappointed Joel didn’t do a better job at trying to kill him.

God, he’s so cute, Joel’s brain has the audacity to think, like it’s trying to add insult to insult to injury. To Joel’s horror, he realizes in this moment that he’s had dozens, maybe even hundreds of thoughts like this, that just slipped through the cracks and went unnoticed.

Then, xB smiles at him again before heading on his way, and Joel falls off of the rooftop. He has time to think, Oh, I’m gonna kill Grian, as he plummets towards the ground. And then, everything goes dark, and he dies.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut; Cassie makes a claybaby.

But also–what, was she not going to get Mae toys and clothes? Was she not going to get her anything but the absolute basics and nothing else? Is she just–is she–

Cassie doesn’t know what she’s going to do here. She doesn’t even know what she’s doing right now. She doesn’t have enough space in her place for kid stuff or a kid and she doesn’t have money or time for a kid and she doesn’t– 

“Good start,” Cissie says, brisk and efficient; squeezing Cassie’s hand again. Bart is already offering Mae a squishy-looking stuffed lawn gnome, because Bart is the kind of person who has a reason that giving the newborn toddler a stuffed lawn gnome makes sense, though hell if anyone else is going to understand said reason. Mae squeals delightedly and immediately hugs the lawn gnome like she thinks it’s the best thing since . . . well, since she was born, about five minutes ago. 

Cassie might laugh, if she weren’t about to have a panic attack. 

Gods, what has she done? What has she done, and how is she supposed to . . . she can’t “fix” this, there isn’t a fix here, what is she supposed to do here?! 

“God, how are you so cute,” Kon says, grinning at Mae. She squishes her new lawn gnome into his face. 

“Cute!” she declares proudly. “M’cute!” 

“The cutest,” Kon coos back, reaching into the folds of his jacket to tickle her stomach, and she giggles and kicks her legs. 

“Dada cute!” she says, and Kon laughs and tickles her again, curling in around her like she’s the most important thing in the world. Cassie doesn’t know how to do that. 

Gods, she’s gonna be the worst mom. 

“Nooo, Mae’s cute,” Kon teases Mae as she keeps giggling. “The cutest! Yes you are! The cutest little claybaby!” 

Mae laughs in absolute delight and–right, Cassie remembers vaguely in the midst of her borderline panic attack. Kon actually, like, has experience with little kids. Or at least a couple of them, anyway. 

That isn’t actually going to be as helpful as it could, she thinks, because she’s the one who’s gonna have to actually take care of Mae and it’s not like she can ask Kon to do split custody just because she accidentally gave the gods the wrong idea while he was in her immediate vicinity, so like . . . okay, well, maybe he’ll be willing to babysit sometime, at least? Like–just when he can, obviously. 

God, she’s gonna have to drop out and get a job and can she even keep being Wonder Girl with a baby, is that even a thing she can do? Anita isn’t Empress anymore, after all, and admittedly she was younger and also had two surprise magic toddlers dumped on her when that happened, but– 

“Why a lawn gnome, Bart?” Anita asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow as she watches Mae bap Kon in the face with it again. 

“Because those are clay people too,” Bart says, squinting doubtfully at her. “So she gets a little friend like her. Like–duh?” 

“. . . that’s actually surprisingly logical, coming from you,” Anita says grudgingly. “But also still godsdamn ridiculous, mon.” 

“Mae likes it,” Bart says, making a face at her. “You’re just mad I’m gonna be the favorite uncle over you.” 

“Excuse you, what do you mean ‘uncle’?” Anita snorts. 

“Well, obviously Cissie’s gonna be the favorite aunt,” Greta says reasonably, apparently back to functioning on Suzie-logic herself. 

“Obviously!” Bart huffs, folding his arms. “How’s that even a question?” 

“Isn’t Wonder Woman in the running here, technically?” Tim asks with a wry little quirk of his lips. “And also all of Themyscira?” 

“Shit, you’re right, I gotta outdo Wonder Woman,” Cissie groans like she’s not still holding Cassie’s hand like the exact lifeline she needs right now and at least earning her vote for “favorite”. “How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Ranged weapons and the element of surprise,” Bart says matter-of-factly. 

“Ice cream and ignoring bedtime,” Greta says just as matter-of-factly. 

“I can work with that,” Cissie mutters speculatively, narrowing her eyes in consideration. Cassie wants to laugh, again, but still can’t. 

She just doesn’t know what she’s gonna do.

[laughableillusions]

Random Jareth HCs

I talk so much abt him and I have some silly ideas :3c

If he stays in owl form too long he has some trouble changing back. He gets kind of stuck a bit between. He chitters like a barn owl in “human” form, can screech like one if mad. There’s feathers in his hair, and sometimes he still has bird-feet. The worst case was when his arms were still big useless wings. It goes away after a while but he’s impatient as hell and will sulk about it and punish anyone who dares laugh at him for his chicken feet.

Jareth actually runs cold. He can change his body temperature if needed, but it’s very surface level. Usually he’s around room temperature (like a corpse). Cuddling or any close physical contact will warm his body up.

His hands are strangely rough under his gloves, they’re rough and hard like stone. He almost never removes his gloves because his touch alone can cause serious magic shit to happen if he isn’t careful. The glamour he uses to keep his more human form doesn’t really extend to his hands for whatever reason (his truest form is made of stone), so he wears gloves to sort of hide it.

Music lover, I mean duh. He sings and dances ofc, but he actually knows very little about modern music. His knowledge of humanity is still stuck in the 18th century. While he would like the idea of things like CD players and MP3 players etc etc, he will always prefer live performances, be it himself or watching someone else. He would probably go to a lot of concerts just to see what the music vibe is these days.

Doesn’t do well in human crowds. A masquerade ball in his castle is one thing, it’s his realm, it’s other fae. But you put him in a shopping mall or grocery store??? He is not having a good time. Mostly because he sees most humans as beneath him (except for the few he decides are special little princesses/princes lol). Modern humans apparently have a stench to him, and he finds it disgusting when “in concentration.”

He can make any small child stop crying however. If Toby proved anything it showed how good with kids Jareth is. He can entertain any small child with ease. Though it starts to freak the parents out when he starts talking about how much he wants to steal them away from their mothers. The man loves kids, and hopes one day he can actually keep a human baby to raise as his own.

Unbearably physically clingy. Like…unbearably. He’d be attached to his lover like a parasite whenever they try to go anywhere without him. If he can’t touch you, he’s standing behind you with his hands behind his back to keep himself from touching you. Like Jesus Christ man back up you’re not gonna go anywhere‼️‼️

Has a jealousy problem as well. With his stuff and his lovers. You do not touch his stuff without asking him, or until he lends it to you. With romantic jealousy, it’s about the same. Nobody touches what he deems his. He has enough dignity not to cause a public scene, but will glare at anyone who dares flirt with his lover- or if he thinks your not paying attention to him enough, he will give you the cold shoulder until you shove him aside and ask him what the fuck is going on.

Enjoys playing mind games. Though he’s too much of a romantic to do things that would really hurt you, at least intentionally. But his fae nature gives him a bastard side that sometimes can’t help it. But really, he would hate to actually fight with you. The last thing he wants is for you to be genuinely upset, and so will bend over backwards to keep you happy.

Speaking of that, Jareth is 100% a doormat to the ones he loves. He’s been alone for centuries (if not more). And any hope of validation he will chase like a kicked puppy. But everything he does, he expects something in return. (ex: I am exhausted by your expectations of me, isn’t that generous?) Fae are deal makers after all, and so he will create a beautiful ideallic place for you to live…but in return he expects your devotion and loyalty. It seems like a small price, until it isn’t. Sometimes, in exchange for a favor he does for you, he will ask for something in return (be it a task, or an a object).

As hedonistic and mischievous as he is, Jareth is quite emotionally intelligent. His age gives him wisdom, and sometimes it’s like he knows exactly just what to say. Humans have such predictable emotions after all, and he can use his knowledge of them as a form of manipulation if he wants/needs to. But to someone he loves, he would bring perfect comfort to. He will try and make you laugh, then ask if you want him to stay with you or leave you be, anything you ask if it would make you less upset and more comfortable he will do (doormat). If you want him to read you a bedtime story? Do a handstand? He’d fucking do it.

[klausysworld]

I have a question, and feel free to not write this, I know it’s really strange!

Could you do a Yandere!Y/n where she kidnaps Klaus instead of the other way around? Like she watches him and plans for a really long time. She gets everything for him and has a room that he’ll love with art supplies and she gets him blood and everything but she keeps him just weak enough that he can’t get out? She forces him to accept her caring for him and he eventually falls in love with her?

I get if it’s too odd but it was a fun idea in my head.

No escape

Planning to kidnap a thousand year old original hybrid doesn’t sound like the smartest thing to do.

Stalking a thousand year old original hybrid also sounds near impossible without dying in the first week.

Snooping around his house should definitely not be able to happen.

And yet I had done it all and more.

It was a miracle that he hadn’t woken up with the amount of times I had been in his room while he slept. I often touched his hair and his face, he was too adorable not to want. His perfect curls rest upon his head beautifully while I moved the pads of my fingers over his stubble. He would groan so pleasantly when I scratched his head and his soft, pink lips would part.

I took note of his favourite paint brands and which size canvases he used more commonly, I would dig through his belongings frequently. See if he had anything new that I should be aware of. I snooped under his bed to find boxes of things from his childhood, hand carved wooden figures mostly but all important to who he was and therefore important to me.

I monitored how much blood he drank each day, how much made him strong. I had to make sure he stopped drinking vervain so his tolerance would decrease which became difficult when I had to switch out his drinks that carried small doses in them.

I had witches enchant locks for the windows and doors for where I wanted to keep him, I had chains doused in magic incase I needed them and I had a barrels of liquidised vervain ready to inject him with. On top of that I raided the closest hospitals and stocked up on blood bags of his favourite type although he wouldn’t be getting through them very quickly.

I had everything set up.

His room was rustic and large with an array of art supplies ready for when he got bored or needed to express himself. I made sure there were no sharp objects or edges for him to get angry and throw or push me into when he initially freaked out. I kept the walls relatively plain so that he could decorate them as to his own liking.

I knew his preferred brand of clothing and had bought an array of outfits ranging from professional to casual. His favourite shampoo, conditioner, body washes, skin care products and everything else he usually had at his old him were now in his new one.

There was nothing he could be mad at when he looked around.

But I wasn’t naive. I knew he would immediately go into a fit of rage and think I was crazy so I took precautions.

Moving him out of his house was difficult enough, I took him while he slept of course. Injected him with a large mix of vervain and wolfs bane to keep him out for hours. I felt a little bad for draining him of his blood and basically replacing it with a toxic solution but it was necessary.

I got him to my home with the help of witches who despised him and then killed them separately for being a danger to his life.

I chained his hands and ankles to a point in the room so he could only go so far, I knew how close I could get before I would be in danger. Though he shouldn’t really have the energy to rush at me.

I waited for him to awake from my seat patiently.

He groaned softly as he tried to push himself up with his weak arms before collapsing back to the mattress with a sigh. He frowned deeply before forcing himself up. He looked around confused before setting his eyes in me and narrowed them. I leaned forward in mmm on my chair awaiting his next move.

“Who are you?” He mumbled tiredly while beginning to stand. I had my syringe of vervain handy if I needed it so I wasn’t very worried.

“Y/n” I told him and his brows pulled together

“I don’t know you” he muttered before his expression stiffened and his eyes turned cold

“Where am I?” He asked much more serious

“Home” I stated simply and he growled

“I will not be played with now where am I?” He questioned as he tried to stand up taller but I could see the wobble in his step and the paling of his skin.

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind, I know how you like to play” I chuckled while watching him grow angrier. Oh it was lovely seeing his so close, reacting to everything I did.

“You don’t know anything about me” he snapped and I raised my eyebrows before gesturing around

“Really?” I hummed “then how is this your ideal home? Your personal wolf den Niklaus”

His body tensed and he sped forward only to be held back by the enchanted shackles making him wince and shake his hands “what the bloody hell have you done to me?”

“The restraints are only necessary if you struggle” I tell him

“My family will come for me. They will tear you apart if I don’t get to you first you filthy little witch” he snarled making me laugh

“Awe you think I’m a witch?” I grinned but he only looked more confused. I came toward him and he took a step back “what? Come on don’t act like you’re afraid”

“What do you want?” He asked coldly and I rolled my eyes

“I have what I want” I mumbled looking him over. He looked at me in disbelief and tried to pull closer towards me

“Me?” He asked quietly

“Mhm, It doesn’t matter how many tantrums you throw, I will keep you regardless. Everything will be fine just try to calm down” I spoke clearly but softly as to not anger him any further.

“You’re mad” he whispered, a little smirk beginning to form on his face “oh dear sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re doing” he chuckled and I smiled amused. If only he knew the lengths I had already gone for him. “You have no idea the kind of evil I face on a day to day basis, your pathetic little fantasy will be easily crushed”

“Oh really? You mean like when Marcel had his vampires attack you? Come on Klaus, you know that you didn’t get them all off of you by yourself” I muttered and he frowned

“Rebekah-“

“Rebekah stood and watched, you thought she helped you?” I asked with a laugh

“You were one of Marcels vampires…you were there” he whispered “the factions treaty….you were there” his eyes widened as the realisation washed over him “you killed the guerrera wolves” he muttered

“Maybe I did” I hummed

“Why would you do that?” He asked

“Because I wanted to keep you safe” I admitted, he remained silent as he silently stared at me, waiting. “You don’t need to worry. I won’t hurt you but I will punish you if you try to leave. In fact you cannot leave so I wouldn’t test your luck. Witches have spelled this took a hundred times over and every one of them is dead and so they cannot undo them. I made sure to have your favourite genre of books available and your paints are ready when you want them. Despite being a thousand years old, I know you still enjoy some of the relatively newer movies so I’ve logged you into my Netflix account. If there’s anything else you require just ask. I will allow you a moment to adjust and will remove the chains when I’m sure you won’t throw hands at me” I explained while presenting him with the bookshelf, aisle and TV remote.

I headed for the door that would only open when it was I who wanted to and began to leave

“Wait” he spoke with a sigh and I turned to him all the more eagerly “I’m hungry” he mumbled and I nodded

“You will get used to the hunger, you can feed in a few hours” I told him before walking out and locking the door behind me.

———————————————————————

I returned later in the day and found him painting the view he had from the window ahead of him. All of the drawers in his room were open from where he had looked around and his wrists were red raw from where he must’ve pulled at the iron.

His head turned to me and he slowly put the brush down and stepped back so I could come see his piece. He would be able to grab me if he wanted to, dig his teeth in and drink but he stood quietly and patiently out of the way.

“It’s lovely” I complimented and he smiled a little bit before his eyes fell to my pulse point and his heart rate picked up slightly “is everything to your liking?” I asked and he cleared his throat

“It’s…perfect” he uttered with a nod. I looked at him a moment and narrowed my eyes

“You won’t get out. Even if you drink me dry. Even if you kill me. You will not be able to leave, you will be stuck to desiccate with nobody with you. Entirely alone.” I reminded and his jaw clenched

“Who said I was planning anything?”

“The snapped paint brush in your hand, you weren’t planning to stab me were you Niklaus?” I asked knowingly and he frowned

“How did you-“

“I know how many I got for you. I know when you’re about to do something stupid and I know how you think.”

“How could you know that?”

“I’ve studied you closely Klaus. I know everything there is to find out about you” I told him and he growled lowly before throwing the sharpened paintbrush end to the ground and walking back to his bed.

“Would you at least take these bloody shackles off of me!? I am not a pet!” He yelled

“Perhaps if you calmed down!”

“How am I supposed to be calm when some nutter has me locked in their house!?”

I sighed out through my nose and took a breath. I had expected him to be mad, I just needed to wear him down. “I’ll be back in the morning” I mumbled before walking back out despite his protests and shouting that I was supposed to give him blood.

———————————————————————

It took longer than I’d hoped for him to even begin to relax. He had tried screaming at me until I stormed out, he tried the silent treatment, throwing blunt objects, recking the room, an array of tactics that all failed.

I left him in the mess he made long enough that he eventually cleaned it back up and begrudgingly apologised when he saw how upset I was that he had poured all of the expensive paints down the sink to ‘prove a point’.

I replaced them, of course, but I wasn’t happy about it.

A few weeks in and he didn’t throw a fit each time I enter the room.

He sat cross legged on the bed opposite his TV before looking up to see me closing the door. He greeted me quietly and allowed me to sit beside him. He still had to be chained down so that he didn’t ram himself into the door over and over but I tried to let him be freer when I was with him. He knew not to attack me anyways, I had injected him with vervain/wolves bane several times with such a high dosage he would collapse on the spot.

So now he was a little better.

He looked to me with those sad eyes of him as I slowly removed the restraints from his wrists and ankles. I rubbed the skin gently and kissed the bottoms of his hands.

“Thank you” he whispered with a scratchy throat making me soften and bring my arm to his lips

“Just a minute, drink slow” I directed and he nodded before latching onto my arm, his fangs sunk in and his lips sucked needily. I tilted my head back and pulled him closer at the euphoric feeling of blood sharing. He moaned involuntarily as he swallowed it down before letting out a whine as I pulled myself away from him

“Just a little more” he whispered “please”

“You can lick what’s left” I compromised which was enough for him as his tongue glided over the disappearing wounds and chased the trickle of blood that headed toward my elbow.

I was his main source for blood, occasionally I gave him a little cup of human if I was busy but I found he was better behaved when he drank from me.

He got enough for him to be able to do as he pleased but kept him weak enough that he wouldn’t be able to hold his own in a fight or have enough power to turn into his wolf form.

Over the weeks he was a lot more relaxed and compliant.

He often made paintings just for me and made origami flowers for me.

A few times now he had requested I stay with him for then night and sleep beside him. The first couple times I was wary that he would try to rip my heart out while I slept but when i realised my leaving him made him feel alone and he was struggling with all his thoughts when he was by himself, I tried to stay as much as I could.

He was a lot quieter than I had seen him be. But he didn’t complain much.

Sometimes he tried to mention being allowed out but he knew where the limits were with his imagination and he was learning quick.

I knew that his kindness may have been part of a plan but I took advantage of the moments anyway.

He was all I wanted, all I needed and I would do anything to keep him with me.

[gx-gameon]

Every few years Yugioh comes back and takes over my life.

And as I rewatch the anime I can’t stop thinking about a world where Jaden was raised by Yugi.

I don’t know if you all remember but a few years back there was a creator on here and they had an au were the Gx gang were raised by the Duel monster gang. But they are gone now and I can’t find their stuff😢 but it’s okay. I’ve got my own ideas on this!

Instead of having the whole Gx gang raised by the DM gang we are just going to focus on Jaden.

When Jaden is four all the drama with Yubel happens. His parents aren’t around very often, and Yubel is being Yubel. She sees Jaden fighting and losing duels so she lashes out at the other duelest because in the dark world if Jaden lost that duel he’d be dead. She’s just protecting him. He designs the Neo-spacians and they get sent into space, and his parents make the request for Yubel to be sent up as well (I know in the show it was Jaden but we’re going to say it was his parents idea first)

Jaden is now having horrible nightmares about Yubel and his shadow magic is lashing out. He’s four. He has so much power and no idea how to control it. So his parents, afraid of their child take him to get ‘help.’ Whatever it is that they do it blocks out Jaden’s powers and his memories. He can’t remember Yubel, he can’t see spirits. But it’s to late. He’s already branded a social pariah and his parents are scared of him and he doesn’t know why. His parents just can’t take it anymore and drop the kid off at a fire station (don’t know if this is a thing in Japan but in some states you can drop a kid off at any age at and just leave) or maybe they just die. Either way they are gone and he’s in an orphanage. Alone, scared, no spirits, parents, or friends.

Here is where Yugi comes in.

Our boy just graduated. DSOD just happened. (Jaden’s cards going to space were Kaiba testing things for his satellite thingy) Kaiba is AWOL. But Yugi doesn’t know why…yet.

Maybe he’s in town for a tournament, or college, but for some reason he’s in town, and what he does find is this kid dueling by himself in a park. No one will go near him and he looks so lonely. And Yugi knows that feeling. So he goes over and plays with the kid. Jaden is ecstatic, the king of games wants to duel him! Best day ever.

Over time the two keep running into each other until Yugi learns about the kids situation. No family, no friends, he’s alone in the world. And Yugi, he just can’t stand that. Yes Jaden is a little loud and over excited but he’s a great kid and Yugi can’t even comprehend why his parents would abandon him. So he makes the decision to go and adopt this kid.

But the adoption’s weird. He expected a lot of questions. He’s 18 after all, and while he’s got his grandpa’s support, he’s still 18 years old trying to adopt a 4 year old. But the orphanage basically throws the kid at him happy to be rid of the problem. (Everyone in that part of town knows what used to happen when Jaden dueled.) and Yugi is perplexed. He’s not mad, it’s the outcome he wanted, but why is everyone so scared of the kid?

He tries to find out but there are no records of Jaden. Who his parents are, or what happened. (Rich people have the ability to get certain records closed) so he goes to the one person he can think of who might be able to find those records, Kaiba. But when he gets there Mokuba is barely keeping it together. Yugi asked where Seto is and the kid just breaks down, telling him all about Seto’s trip to the afterlife to duel Atem and Yugi is floored. Why would he be so stupid. Mokuba begs Yugi to go after his brother. But Yugi hesitates, he’s got Jaden to worry about now.

“Who’s Jaden?” And it’s in this moment that Yugi realizes he was so wrapped up in adopting Jaden, getting him home, and trying to figure out why that whole town was scared of a 4 year old, that he didn’t tell anyone about Jaden! So he quickly explains to Mokuba who Jaden is and what is happening and why he needs Seto’s help.

Mokuba didn’t think he could like Yugi anymore then he already did, after all Yugi has helped him and Seto a lot, but now! After learning he saved a kid for an orphanage and an awful upbringing like he and Seto had, he adores this man. (Now if Seto would just get his head out of his butt and realize that Yugi isn’t just his rival but also a perfect match. He’s the biggest rivalshipper) but he needs Yugi to go after Seto, after all who else can?

So Yugi calls Joey to watch Jaden. And Joey is experiencing so many different emotions, having so many breakdowns. What do you mean you got a Kid Yug? What do you mean Kaiba went to the Afterlife to duel Atem? What do you mean you’re going after him? Why? I’m so confused!!

But he instantly loves Jaden. They both love dueling, they both have empty heads. Uncle Joey is in the house! He offers to go after Kaiba for Yugi, Jaden can’t lose him, but Yugi insist he go. He wants to see Atem, but he also knows he has a better chance than Joey at coming back.

So after Kaiba Yugi goes. Jaden’s safe with Joey and Mokuba.

And if this isn’t in the top 5 weirdest thing Yugi’s ever done, which is saying something.

He meets up with Kaiba and Atem. And Atem has spent the last month yelling at Kaiba for coming here because the man didn’t plan on how to get back. And here comes Yugi, Atem sees him and starts to lose it because, either Yugi is dead or he followed Kaiba here and he doesn’t know which is worse. Until Yugi starts yelling at Kaiba as well. Because “I had to leave my son to come get you!” And hold up now Atem and Kaiba are Floored because “son?”

Atem’s wondering if it’s been way longer than he thought and Yugi and Kaiba have just aged well, or did he miss something THAT big when he was with his aibou.

So Yugi has to explain who Jaden is. (Kaiba’s in love but he doesn’t realize it) and Atem is so proud.

Yugi drags Seto back down to earth but not before some adventures in the afterlife. That may end with Atem coming back down with them by accident. (A gift from the gods, Atem didn’t plan or ask for it, but he will forever be grateful for this second chance at life) Uncle Atem gets to meet his nephew and he’s pumped.

Jaden grows up so loved. Learning from the best. Seto finds out about Jaden’s past and Atem works with the kid on unlocking his powers once again while Kaiba tries to retrieve Jaden’s cards from space. (They are his soul cards, he’s suppose to have them, just as Kaiba is suppose to have Blue-eyes, or Atem the Dark Magician. And Seto just sent them to space!! Yugi was not happy when he found out, he doesn’t blame Seto, but he’s not happy)

Jaden grows up going to all of his dad’s tournaments. They give the kid a baseball hat and sunglasses so no one knows what the ‘prince of duels’ looks like.

Eventually Yugi and Seto get their crap together and start dating/get married. Seto is the most over protective Oto-san ever. Only rivaled by uncle Atem.

When Jaden is fourteen he’s ready to go to duel school. He enrolls are Jaden Yuki. His transcript does not mention his parents, as Jaden doesn’t want any special privileges at the school.

Yugi gives his son winged kuriboh on his way to his entrance test. The whole gang is there in a private sweet to watch the entrance exams and see Jaden’s duel against Dr. Crowler.

Seto is furious at his staffs behavior but Yugi and Atem are more focused on Jaden finally being able to see spirits again. They’re so excited. Seto less so, he’s happy for his son but he’s so focused on his employee bullying a child, his child. (Lets just say Crowler owes keeping his job to Jaden, he will have no clue of this until after Jaden graduates)

Gx is so much funnier because Kaiba is hearing about all the crazy things his staff is doing and he’s ready to fire everyone, but his son keeps saying he likes them, the school, the adventure. Jaden so desperately doesn’t want any of his classmates to know who his parents are, not wanting to be treated differently. So Seto can’t fire them, yet. But once Jaden graduates he is overhauling this school.

Yugi is at a cross between laughing at Atem and Seto being over protective and also losing his mind because who stored the dark lords at this school! “Seto, did you know about this?” (Seto’s never been more scared of his husband)

Season one is uninterrupted. But season 2 is close. Even Yugi wants to step in when the evil cult comes to light. But it’s season 3 that makes the family lose their minds.

[kimi-twstheadcanons]

Falling Asleep in their Class

(Featuring Sam)

-Headcanon

Pronouns: They/them

Note: Platonic friendships here! I’m tired from all nighters for assignments and I got new classes a while ago so I thought I’d write this for fun. I literally got called out in math by my teacher for dozing off. She wasn’t mean about it tho. :)

He’s offended. Are his classes simply too boring for you? Or do you just not care about these very important lessons? Either way, he finds it very insulting that you had the audacity to show up in his classroom just to sleep and not pay attention

He’s aware that his classes are more active compared to most other classes run by Mr. Trein, so others tend to stay awake

But you? You’re usually more up and focused compared to the others. He had assumed it’s because your learning things that you wouldn’t have learned in your world. Now that you’re falling asleep, are his lessons not as exciting for you anymore?

“Hold it right there, Pup. I need to have a word with you. Ace, Deuce, Grim, you three are excused.” He’d stop you before you walk out the door

Welp, you’re dead

“Pup, you’ve been falling sleep recently. You’re notes have been sloppy and you’ve been participating less than usual.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Crewel, but the Headmaster has me running around and doing jobs for him across campus. Then Grim broke something in the Octavinelle again so I had to work to fix it because I can’t afford to pay for it and-“

“Stop!” He cuts you off. You were expecting a scolding and held your head low

“The Octavinelle incident; I can understand. But you’re telling me that Crowley has been sending you out to do his jobs? That’s ridiculous! I can’t believe he’d have you do that while you’re doing so much already!” He raged

“Oh, you simply must get more sleep, pup. If you keep doing this late night routine you’ll ruin that pretty face of yours. On top of that, it’s not good for your health. Alright, here’s what we’re going to do,” He said sympathetically

You were surprised. You thought he’d be mad at you for making excuses. But instead he immediately believed you and took your side

He ended up letting you take your time to catch up on assignments and offered to help you with anything you need that may keep you up at night. He, of course, knows you have to magic. You have him as your homeroom teacher after all

He sees how hard you work and he just wants to help as much as he can since you have so much on your shoulders already

You got your sleep schedule back and now you’re doing better in class. You’re back to your normal self and that’s all he ever wanted. From now on you ask for his help more often if you know it affects you and he puts up no fuss

He won’t tell you, but he’s only doing so more than he needs to because you’re his favorite pup- erm…student

He’s actually pretty surprised. He hadn’t expected you of all people to fall asleep to his history lessons. You had seemed so invested when you got to NRC, he thought you’d at least last until next year

But then he started to realize that you dozing off wasn’t patterned like the others. While others tended to stay awake during interesting or new topics, you fell asleep all throughout and even for your favorite topics

That’s when he realized that you would even walk into the room tired and you had eye bags under your eyes. He wondered what could possibly keep you up so long or what would stress out your mind enough to keep you up

“Halt, (L/n). I’d like to have a word with you.”

You thought for sure you were dead

“Don’t think I haven’t taken notice of you dozing off. Care to explain your reasoning as to why?”

“I’m so sorry I’ve been sleeping through class this week, Mr. Trein! Headmaster Crowley gave me jobs and errands to run. He gave me time limits with those as well. Then something happened with Grim so I had to help with that. Then I had a late study session with Kalim and Jamil. But I was working late at the Mostro Lounge for some extra cash and-“

“Enough! Enough, I’ve heard enough.”

Oh, you are definitely sure you are dead

“I cannot believe the Headmaster would put so much on your shoulders! How irresponsible of him to not take into account that you aren’t like the other students and require much more time and attention?”

Huh?

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything. Including the extra cash. I don’t want you hanging around those Octavinelle students more than you already do. From now on if there is any issue that will halt your ability to learn please come to me. Understood?”

…well that was an unexpected response. But you nod and quietly agree nonetheless. You didn’t have the energy to retaliate so you just agreed. He excused you for the rest of the day saying he will tell explain you situation to the other classes. He also gave you more time to finish assignments for you to get more rest

He then proceeded to send Crowley a very detailed message complaining that he should stop putting so many responsibilities on you since you’ve already got so much on your plate. He also told Crowley that is he’s going to have you run around and least pay you a decent amount of money to live off of instead of having you work for at the Mostro Lounge for extra cash. He was livid to say the least

He’s mad! But slightly impressed? Out of all the rookies he teaches, your one of the ones he actually admires. You don’t have any magic, you’re not even from that world, and you have never even seen a flying broom in person your first day there so your achievements in his class were very astonishing

Even on days we’re you were least active, you never actually fell sleep, however. That was new to him

He didn’t notice anything was wrong because he was keeping his eyes on another student. He found out you had fallen asleep when your broom had drifted off and slowly bumped into him…with you sleeping on it!

Again, he’s impressed. But so mad that you thought it was appropriate for you to be slacking off!

He was prepared to yell at you to wake you up, but a closer look on your face showed that you weren’t just sleeping from boredom; you were exhausted. Like you had dark eye bags type of exhausted

That’s when he decided to shake your shoulder to wake you up. Not hard but just enough for you to feel it. If you fell asleep mid air and began drifting off, he wasn’t sure how much you could sleep through at this point. He wouldn’t be surprised if you had slept through the whole class adrift on your broom

Luckily him shaking your shoulder did the trick. You blinked and looked around, only to jump up and fall off your broom when you realized you where in front of your teacher

“(L/N)! What’s going on with you? You know how I feel about slackers!”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Vargas. I didn’t get enough sleep the past few days because I’ve been catching up on assignments for other classes.”

“So you spend you time sleeping in my class instead?”

“NO NO! I don’t mean to, I promise. I’ve just been running around for the headmaster and doing side jobs for extra cash. That’s why I’ve been working late for assignments! I’ve been trying to catch up.” You explain as best you can.

Vargas pauses and thinks for a moment. You, in your mind, come to the conclusion that you are in big trouble

“Go to the nurses office. Take a nap, go to your next class after the bell, and email me when/if you have to make up your missing work outs.”

…what now?

You take a moment to process what he just said. That was nowhere near the reaction you thought you’d get. Nevertheless you follow it anyway

Unlike the others Vargas isn’t on Crowley’s butt about it but he does have some complaints. He’d appreciate if Crowley wouldn’t drive his students to exhaustion before their PE classes, that’s all

(You may or may not also secretly be his favorite but he doesn’t really think about it much)

He literally caught you taking a nap outside his shop. You weren’t working for him today or anything. He just needed to make a trip to the main building and saw that you had fallen asleep in front of his shop. He’s impressed at how you’re so comfortable around his Mystery Shop

He approaches you carefully and gently wakes you up by shaking your shoulder. It took a minute but he eventually got you to open your eyes

You jolt awake after realizing where you were and what you were doing. You felt embarrassed but also concerned as how you thought that was a good idea

Sam wasn’t stressing over it. In fact, he just giggled and helped you up from the ground. He couldn’t help but wonder why you fell asleep in such an odd area

“Hey there, Little Imp! How’d you end up sleeping out here? You must have been pretty exhausted for you to doze off under my tree here.”

“Sorry, Sam, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I guess I just dozed off thinking this was a good spot. …now I see it wasn’t.”

Sam just smiles and gently laughs it all off to show you’re not in any sort of trouble

“It’s alright, Little Imp. What made you so tired in the first place, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I’ve just been running around doing a lot recently. Working at the Mostro Lounge to get extra change, helping Ace and Deuce study late, cleaning up the whole dorm, not to mention I’ve been running errands for the Headmaster for a whole week.”

Sam paused at that last bit. Everything else made sense but that last part got him thinking

“You’ve been running around for the headmaster? He doesn’t pay you?”

“He does! …just not enough to keep food on the table for more than 3 days a week. I use what he gives me to buy Grim his tuna.”

“And that’s why you’ve been working at the Mostro Lounge? Wow, that’s dedication. Let me guess; you fell asleep while waiting for me to get back so you can continue those errands he gave you?”

You nod

“Well, come with me then. I’ll get you what you need. And I’ll give you some food for you and Grim too. On the house.”

“Oh no, Sam! I can pay don’t worry about it!”

“No no, I insist. I’ll also get my friends on the other side to talk to Crowley for you. Now come on in, before it gets cold!”

Then ever since that chat Sam has been leaving small baskets of food on your door step every time you needed it. You’re not sure how he knows each time but you’re thankful nonetheless. And if you insist he allows you to work at the shop too.

You’re not sure how he did it but whatever he did got Crowley to pay you more. You’re grateful for him being such a good friend. He also allows you to fall asleep under the tree in front of his Mystery Shop any time you want

[pinkdaisies9285]

A Duke in Distress-2

Jake Seresin x F!Reader (No first name but last name is Harcourt)

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, kinda Angst, blood, mention of injuries,getting beat up, and a knife, Jake in pain, smut, fingering, making out,Regency AU!, Fantasy AU!

Word Count: 1640

Author's Note: Here's the next part! Its time to get steamy. This my first attempt at smut, so bear with me. I don't know if people read these notes but if you do, tell me your favorite color in the comments or what you think will happen???

Once Jake was fully conscious, he felt an array of emotions. First, pain that lingered from the brutal beating he took from the guards. Second, confusion about how the large gashes on his side had magically healed completely. Last, a strange urge, one he couldn’t put his finger on. A string that wasn’t there before was pulling at his mind and heart. He could only figure out that he had to see you.

The woman he was taught to hate. His family has only had one enemy in the Kingdom, the Harcourt dukedom. The Seresin dukedom has been loyal to the crown way before your family. They prided themselves on fighting for their country for many generations.

Jake had been a general in the war and led it to victory. His father was so proud of him but truly he was proud that the dukedom had continued its legacy. This was what ate away at Jake’s soul at night.

He was just a pawn in his father’s plans, not a son.

He was tired of his father’s manipulative rules so he decided to become something his father hated, a rake. Soon, he stopped doing his duty of being the proud military and spent all his time playing cards with his friends at brothels or his club.

This choice drove his father mad, but he had no one else to pass the dukedom to. So, for once Jake had won and still would receive the thing he was promised since birth.

Yet, how did this choice lead to him being beaten and lying in a cell in the Harcourt’s prison? While he didn’t remember all the details, his goal was to find out more secrets about the Harcourts and use them to his advantage. While the Harcourts were hosting a ball he would sneak off and plan their demise. His father would’ve been proud of this decision but Jake was doing this to end the endless feud between the two dukedoms. He was tired of this feud and wanted to end it by ending the Harcourts.

—

When he arrived at their ball two nights ago, he used all his best moves to charm everyone into thinking that he was there to simply judge the quality of their ball and nothing else. Once he was finally alone, many women were flocking to him when he first arrived, Jake sneaked off to find Duke Harcourt’s study. He had heard the man kept many documents there that few had seen.

Finding the study was easier said than done, guards were milling around every corner and they had already denied many people from the party entrance beyond the ballroom. Waiting for the right moment, Jake quickly passed two guards who were in conversation with a very tipsy woman.

“Miss, you can’t go this way,” the shorter guard said.

“But I swear I saw my husband go this way,” whined the woman with flushed cheeks and a hazy look in her eyes.

The guards didn’t seem to know what to do except try to guide her back to the party.

Jake simply snickered at this interaction before moving on to the study he knew was on the second floor.

He made it to the door and swiftly opened it. Walking into the study of Duke Harcourt was something he never thought he would do.

He began looking around for places where the document could be. Starting at the desk, he looked for hidden drawers but had no luck. All he could find was simple ledgers and agreements. Nothing dubious was to be found in them. Before he could search somewhere else, the knob jiggled open revealing the two guards he saw earlier.

“Duke Seresin, you’re not supposed to be here,” the short one said while holding on to his blade’s hilt ready for a fight.

“No, I’m not gentlemen, but what are you going to be about it?” Jake asked while leaning his hip against the desk in the middle of the room. He had to think of a way out of this situation but nothing came to mind. He took one step forward which resulted in the two guards drawing their swords.

“You’re coming with us, Duke,” the taller guard was the one to say something this time.

Jake held his hands up in defeat, maybe he could turn himself in. That way he could stay at the Harcourt estate longer but he didn’t know what was in store for him after the guards led him to the prison in the basement.

—

While he expected to be questioned about his presence in the off-limits study, he didn’t expect to be beaten to a pulp. Duke Harcourt had given the guards orders to act first and ask questions second. This is what led to Jake having a swollen eye and gashes on his side. The guards took pleasure in beating the cocky Duke Seresin to a bloody pulp.

Jake honestly couldn’t remember any of the questions they had asked him because of how hard the hits landed on him. When one of the guards took out a small knife, he knew that the punches were only the beginning.

Time passed slowly during the painful process Jake was put through he started simply wishing he would die from the torture. He couldn’t for once in his life take the pain. When the guards had finally finished their “fun”, Jake was barely hanging on a thread.

The next time he was somewhat conscious was when you appeared in his cell. He remembered saying a snarky greeting before going under again. He felt a faint copper taste in his mouth before waking up fully and seeing you run out of the cell.

Now here he was trying to sneak out of the prison to find you. Something was compelling him to search for you and whatever it was, it was strong.

—

Once Jake had successfully made it to the ground floor, he relied on the tether to lead him to you. He knew it would be correct.

Hastily going up the stairs to the second floor, he started winding through the hallways of the estate. It seemed like the closer he got to you, the stronger the urge in him became.

He wanted to hold you, devour you, love you? Love? Where this feeling was coming from, he wasn’t sure because never once did he think of loving a Harcourt, especially you.

Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he stopped at a set of doors. This had to be your room, the tether in him seemed to be humming within him. Not even thinking to knock, Jake pushed open the doors.

Standing in the middle of the room was you. The sun seemed to make a halo appear from behind you, highlighting all your features perfectly.

“Jake, what are you doing here?” you asked with a shocked expression.

He didn’t know what overcame him but, he knew that this ache would only go away when you were in his arms. He rushed over to you and cradled you like a precious jewel, afraid to harm you.

Yet, he wanted to consume you as well. There was a carnal desire sparking to life in his soul.

“What have you done to me?” Jake asked with an array of emotions flitting over his face.

“I don’t know,” you replied while staring deep into his forest-green eyes. The eyes that now hypnotized you every time you peered into them.

Your answer wasn’t good enough for Jake. Unable to fight the electric feeling happening, he crashed his lip onto yours. His hand grasping at anything he could find. Kneading your bottom with fervor, elicited a moan to come from your mouth.

You’ve never felt a heat like this, it set ablaze your core. Pressing your body closer to find some kind of relief, you started to grind on him.

Jake moaned at the friction you were creating. While he was a man who preferred to do some foreplay before anything happened, he couldn’t wait.

Quickly, he gathered your dress up and bunched around your hips. He tore through your undergarments like it was paper.

Gasping at the feeling, you were in a haze about what was happening. How could you go back to being enemies after this?

Jake, unaware of this turmoil happening in your mind, began to circle your clit before dripping his fingers into you.

His intrusion made you clutch his shoulders in surprise. The feeling of his fingers in you was foreign yet it felt so good.

You whimper unsure what to say to him so this feeling doesn’t stop. Jake chuckles while looking down at your desperate face.

“What’s wrong, princess, cat got your tongue?”

His teasing made you feel flustered and more desperate.

“Please J-jake, p-please.” You whined.

“Please what, princess? Come on I know you how to use your words,” he said while continuing to slowly finger you.

The slow pace felt like torture. You began to grind down on his fingers trying to get more friction.

Jake completely stopped when he felt you doing this.

“Words. Now, princess,” he said with a stern look in his eyes.

“Jake, please make me….” you trailed off unsure what to say. You had heard whispers from your maids about their conquests but it was always in bits. For once you felt not confident about yourself. You were completely in the dark. What did you want?

This lack of knowledge was swiftly made known to Jake from the expression on your face. His gaze softened when he realized why you didn’t finish your sentence.

You were truly a diligent daughter. Untouched and pure for whoever you were going to marry.

This made Jake almost feel smug. He would be your first and last, he would make sure of it.

Tag List: @itsdesiree86 @tgmreader

Please comment to be tagged!

Dividers Credit: @cafekitsune

Prev/ Next

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist