#i was overcome with the urge to write a play and the ideas for it sorry

[flowercrowngods]

cw suicide mention & imagery

original play idea where people seem to live their normal lives but the audience gets the feeling that something’s wrong, there’s a tension and there are things that obviously go unsaid that hang in the air between the characters uncomfortably long enough until the last member of the audience has filled in the blanks in their own way.

there is a figure off to the side, a very young man in a suit, watching them, unmoving and silent, and as the scenes and progress, as characters leave and appear, as the setting changes, the young man is always there. no one interacts with him, but there are moments when they almost do. when the characters stop what they’re doing when they stand close to him, and appear to listen. but there’s nothing.

the sound of TV news reports, all playing over each other, create an uncanny and uncomfortable buzzing that never, never stops, and there are too many to really make out the words. they get more silent the closer they get to the young man in the suit, quieting down to nothing when they stand by him to listen — but the characters seem unaware of the change. so does the young man, statuesque though he is.

then there’s a little girl, covered in dirt, her hair askew, her cheeks rosy — the image of having spent the day outside, playing in the dirt, a smile on her face, her eyes big, as she skips towards the young man and asks, “can we go now? can we play?”

the young man cards his hands through her hair and says, “you go ahead, i’ll be right there.”

but still he stays there, seated.

everything continues as before, but the characters slowly undergo a complete change in character, in routine, in appearance. the old man who wore suits is not dressed in sweats and old, worn out, dirty shirts. the sweet, kindhearted young adult is now quiet and apathetic. the woman who, in the beginning, was talking her friend’s ear off and could barely stand still is unmoving now, staring out into nothingness.

the buzzing and bustling background noise is slowly, gradually getting louder as the characters become increasingly nonverbal and unmoving. the lights dim down.

then all at once, after a crescendo, the noise stops suddenly, the lights turn off completely, before, with warm, yellow light, a woman we’ve seen before — as she stares into nothingness — appears on the stage, slowly approaching the young man as if unsure of her body but undeniable in her grace.

they smile at each other for a moment.

m, whispering: you’re not supposed to be here, not yet

w, cradling his cheeks: i was always supposed to be here long, long before you

m: i know. i’m sorry, i—

w: i know. i forgive you. i’ve always forgiven you

m, after a while: but not yourself

the woman shakes her head.

w: a mother will never forgive herself for burying her child, and a father will forgive himself even less. (a beat) you have such a handsome face.

m: it’s not your fault

w: so beautiful, those eyes, i’ve missed you so much

m: listen to me, it’s not your fault!

w: and your hair! papa would be so glad to know that—

m: mother. mama. listen to me. it’s not your fault

w, tearful and whispering: you were supposed to be fine. you were always supposed to be fine. it was never supposed to be this bad, we were supposed to help, but—

m: i know. i tried, i really did. both times

in that moment, the little girl comes skipping on stage again, approaching them with her wagging ponytail.

g: what are you doing here, mama? will you play with me now? it’s been so long!

the woman gasps, her tears getting the better of her as she falls to her knees and pulls the girl to her chest, who readily returns the hug

w, sobbing, kissing her cheek: hi, baby. yes, i’ll play with you, of course i will. let’s go.

the young man helps his mother up, allowing her to pull him into a hug, and she whispers: “as much as i love her with all my heart, i’m so proud of the young man you’ve grown into. and now i have you both, just as i always did.”

the young man brushes a kiss to her cheek, then lets her go, watching as his mother disappears with the little girl.

m: i have to stay a while. i’ll follow you soon.

(woman and girl, hand in hand, exeunt)

the lights dim, and the buzzing returns, accompanied by the sound of dragging footsteps the audience cannot see, until everything’s back in total darkness. the noise stays. growing louder in increments, leaving the audience uncomfortable and unsure if this was it.

as they quiet down, we hear a man, sobbing uncontrollably, before eerie silence takes his place, too.

the curtain falls.

[sodobabe]

Choke me, Please [Swiss/AFAB reader] (18+ Minors, DNI!!)

A/N: Felt the urge to write just a quick little Swiss fic. For all you h word people out there, enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT. Just straight smut. No plot. Just porn. Choking, squirting, Soft Dom Swiss, Needy reader. Male oral receiving, fingering, slight mention of tail play (if you squint), fluffy aftercare.

Summary: Reader has a choking kink and our favorite multi-ghoul has the perfect hands for it. Eat up.

You could feel the sensation between your legs. The need for his hand around your neck. You knew that he would oblige to any kink you were into, choking seemed to be most mild. You stood in the doorway of his room as you watched his veiny hands strum away at the acoustic guitar that he adored so much. You wanted to be able to enjoy the music but you had one thing on your mind. You needed his hand around your innocent throat as his cock pounded relentlessly into your now soaked core.

You stood there for a few moments longer, waiting to see if he would notice you or not. After what felt like eternity, he finally looked up and locked eyes with you. The strumming stopped. He knew what you needed. Your eyes said it all. Fuck me. Choke me. Use me.

”Hey there, pet,” Swiss spoke up, pulling you out of your trance. ”What can I do you for?” He continued.

”Was just admiring your playing. Music sounded good,” you lied, well partially. You were definitely admiring his playing but you had no idea what the music sounded like.

Swiss sat the guitar back into its stand and motioned for you to come over to him on the black leather couch he had in his room. You wasted no time before you moseyed your way over to the multi-ghoul. You sat down next to him and he started asking you questions about the music. He was the type of ghoul to talk with his hands, one would think he was Italian in his past life. You couldn’t help but stare at them as they moved around while he talked about the new song he was writing. You were in a trance when you were suddenly snapped out by one his hands colliding with your throat, forcing you backwards onto the couch.

”You like it when my hand is around your neck, pet?” Swiss teased.

”Mhmm,” was all you could mutter out as your core became increasingly wet.

“Would’ve never pegged an innocent introvert like you to want to be choked,” he mulled, his grip getting tighter.

”What else do you want from me?” He said as his tail made his way between your legs, gently teasing you through your pants.

“Your cock, please,” you begged.

”As you wish, pet. Strip and bend over the armrest,” he instructed as he pulled you up off of the couch.

You did as you were told, throwing your clothes to the side and leaning over the armrest, the cold leather sending chills through your body and pulling a gasp from your lungs.

”Satanas, you look so fucking hot bent over my couch. Such a good pet,” he moaned as he got rid of his clothes.

He came up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he slowly slid into you, causing him to moan in ecstasy.

“Fucking Satanas, pet, feel so tight around my cock,” he whimpered.

He began to pick up the pace as he pumped his cock in and out of you, pulling sweet moans from your lips.

“Choke me, please,” you begged. You needed the sensation of his large, muscular hands wrapped around your throat to help bring you over the edge. He obliged.

Swiss’ hand wrapped around your throat pulling your head back slightly as he pounded into you. The faster he pounded into you, the tighter his grip got on his neck. You were overcome by pleasure. You felt that familiar feeling in your lower belly as your orgasm was approaching.

“Fuck, Swiss, gonna cum,” you moaned out with what little air you had left in your lungs.

At that very moment, Swiss pulled out of you and released your neck. Air swarmed back into your lungs as you gasped at the loss of any contact.

”Sit on the couch, legs spread like a good slut. Gonna make you squirt while I choke you,” he said in a sadistic tone.

You once again, did as you were told. You sunk into the couch, your back resting on the armrest as you spread your legs. Swiss knelt down next to you and immediately began rubbing your clit as his free hand made its way back to your neck. He was choking you again as his fingers got to work, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. It felt like you had to pee but he had made you squirt before so you knew the sensation.

“Gonna cum, Fuck, Swiss, please keep going. Choke me harder, please,” you begged as you were reaching your breaking point.

Swiss’ grip tightened around your neck but his movement on your clit did not change, as he knew what he was doing was the reason you were close. That was it. You were tipping over the edge.

”Fuck, Swiss, fuck, M’cumming, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you gasped out as you felt yourself squirt all over the leather beneath you. You were the reason he had this leather couch. Cloth was too hard to get cum stains out of.

Swiss loosened his grip on your throat and turned your head as you were still riding out your high.

”Such a good pet, cumming for me. My turn now, open wide,” he instructed as he stood up, suggesting he wanted his dick sucked.

You opened your mouth and Swiss slid his dick in, throwing his head back at the pleasure. He knew you were running out of energy so he just slowly throat fucked you as he continued lightly choking you. You were a sight to behold, taking his cock in your mouth like the good cockwhore you are. After a few more thrusts, Swiss’ knees buckled as he was blowing his load down your throat, and you didn’t even care because you were blissed out. He got you off, and you were able to get him off.

He pulled out of your mouth and scooped you up, carrying you over to his bed and gently placing you. He wandered into the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess of the couch, himself, and you. After everyone and everything was clean, he crawled into his bed with you, pulled you close to his warm chest, and pulled the blanket up.

“Rest up, pet. We are definitely doing that again,” he said, before placing a kiss on your forehead.

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 12 (Medical Play)

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader (NSFW)

(1,223 Words)

Summary: you have a debilitating phobia of needles and Dr. Crane has the solution to overcoming those fears

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, reader has MAJOR trypanophobia (fear of needles), panic attacks, exposure therapy, medical kink (duh), crane feeding off the reader’s fear, crane being unprofessional, doctor/patient dynamic, fingering

Notes: sorry this one’s a little late LMAO but literally? as someone who had SEVERE trypanophobia, this was kinda empowering to write, enjoy the fic!!!

-

There was always a sense of unease whenever you found yourself at the doctors office. Maybe it was the awkward silence of sitting in the waiting room, anticipating what’s to come. Maybe it was the little intrusions that came with a basic physical check-up. Maybe it was unsettling scent of sterilized chemicals, sanitizing the room. Maybe it was those beige colored walls, glaring at you for the duration of your visit. Maybe it was the fact that you were about to be subjected to one of your worst fears. Or maybe, it was the fact that your physician is incredibly attractive.

Yeah, that too.

You find yourself, laying on his exam table, staring up at the ceiling. His voice, playful, as he explains the clinical the proceedings of this visit, reverberates off the walls.

“I’m really glad to see you taking the initiative to face your fears, exposure therapy isn’t for the faint of heart, you know.”

Your heart flutters at his words. As someone who suffered from a fear of needles since childhood, you figured that now, well into your adulthood, it was finally time to overcome that fear.

Doctors appointments for important vaccinations or even just the seasonal flu shot was always enough to spiral you into a panic. Nightmares leading up to it, hyperventilating, and giving yourself panic attacks to the point of nausea or fainting were feelings you had become all too familiar with. Feeling the prying gazes of other people in the waiting room or judgmental nurses always caused your embarrassment to spike at what you thought, was your own childish anxieties.

Seeing Dr. Jonathan Crane changed all that. When you scheduled your first session with him, his office felt comfortable. Adorned with classic horror movie posters and little mementos about his interests gave the impression that you wouldn’t be just some patient to him, but someone who he would genuinely try to help with your issues. When time came to actually talk about your fear, he wasn’t mean, or judgmental, or condescending, but he was understanding. He was someone who took a deep interest in whatever you had to say, as a patient and as a person. When he suggested the idea of exposure therapy, you were hesitant, but he had helped you come to realize that you had to start somewhere, which lead you to the clinic.

“Thanks, doctor,” you smile nervously, “gotta start somewhere, right?”

“Too true,” he says, turning to you as he walks over to the counter. “I appreciate that you put your trust in me to help you with such a… Debilitating, vulnerability.”

You hear the metallic rustling from within the cabinets. You stare back up at the ceiling, yet your curiosity gets the better of you. Glancing back over to him, you spy him preparing the needles, sending a wave of trepidation through your body.

“The syringes will be filled with a simple saline solution, it’s not harmful, but the solution is not what you’re afraid of, is it?” Maybe it’s just your anxiety, but you could swear there’s a hint of eeriness within his voice.

“Hey, uh, Doctor?”

“What is it, sweet pea?” He asks jokingly.

“I um, I just wanna apologize in advance in case I freak out at the needle.” You muster out with as much courage as you can. “Like, I-I might cry actually.” You chuckle nervously. You actually do feel the urge to cry as uneasiness fills the pit in your stomach.

“Aw now,“ There’s a playfulness to his voice. You’ve heard it many times in sessions, but it feels a little unsettling to hear it now. “Don’t psych yourself up too much, remember your breathing techniques.”

You can’t regulate your breathing at a time like this. As he makes his way over to you with a little alcohol wipe, you feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate. You feel the sweat trickling down your forehead as your throat begins to go dry. You feel faint; clammy. That alcohol wipe was the calm before the storm. You were fine when it was swabbed across your skin, but it always signaled what’s to come.

“Dr. Crane, I don’t know if I-”

“The feelings you have right now are completely expected,” he hushes you. “It’s all anticipatory, you fear the dread of it more than the actual stick itself, and I think I have found a sufficient way to combat that,” his explanation is stern, but comforting. He takes his gloved hands in yours, feeling his warmth through the latex. “Do you trust me?”

You’re hesitant. Your eyes threaten to spill tears out of the sheer distress you feel at the moment, yet Crane stares at you confidently, as if he knows you will make the right decision. You let out a shaky sigh, “Yes.”

“Good,” he grins at you. His hand makes its way to cup your cheek, gently thumbing over you. It moves up and around, to the nape of your neck and through your scalp, playing with your hair. You practically melt into his touch, fear beginning to dissipate from within you. And it’s at that moment, he gives it a tug, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “A good method to combating fear, is to add an equally positive stimulus.” He lets out a low chuckle in response, which you feel go straight to your groin.

“I think I catch your drift.”

“Trust me,” he whirls you around on the table, spreading your legs. You can feel the heat pooling in your sex. “By the time I’m done with you, your phobia of needles will be the last thing on your mind.” He eyes you up, feeling his predatory gaze all around you like you wish his body was.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” you whisper desperately.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

You two work together to undo your pants. Your sex drips with arousal as Dr. Crane’s hand makes its way past your underwear. Your legs shake as he grazes over a particularly sensitive spot. He adds more pressure stroking you steadily as you all but grind yourself on his hand.

“God, you are such a good patient,” he groans. “Your determination to cure yourself of this fear, by any means necessary, is remarkable.”

You let out a breathy moan at the praise. You feel his fingers enter inside you, curling up and fucking away any fear you had before.

“Dr. Crane,” you gasp. “I think, I-I’m-”

“Getting close?”

“Mhm.” You groan.

You feel yourself quickly reaching your peak, eyes slamming shut. As you feel Crane’s fingers speeding up, there’s a sharp, painful sensation in your arm, making you cry out in a pained whine. With the pain, soon follows your orgasm, which tears through you frantically.

Breathing heavily, you come down from your euphoric high, to find Dr. Crane removing his gloves, smiling over at you proudly.

“Congratulations,” he smirks. “We’ve made excellent progress in overcoming your phobia, I think we’ve made a break through.” Washing his hands in the sink, he takes a seat on the table beside you, that playful tone once again adorning his voice. “However, I think we may need to have a few more sessions, fears aren’t cured overnight you know.”

You giggle, looking at him feeling giddy. You couldn’t wait for your next appointment.

[qfzeeph]

felt like gushing about the silly blue man today so here's a rare "you get zeeph writing" moment!!

♡Kaito (Vocaloid) x Reader/Master HCs♡

♡this be fluffy, with a teeny tiny bit of spicy jokes towards as a treat. that's about it♡

♡ So, what is he exactly? You have no idea. Some sort of weird ambiguous cross between an android and just a regular ordinary human it seems? But that air of mystery is part of what makes him so charming. You wouldn't have even known he had mechanical parts somewhere within him if he hadn't spoken to you. You can definitely hear it in his voice (though sometimes when he sings it's very easy to forget!) and through some of his mannerisms, but he just seems to be a regular human guy otherwise. Don't try to ask him about it either, because he's not even quite sure himself. All he knows is he woke up one morning with the mission to make people around the world happy and that he's got some sort of internal machinery and coding within him. ♡Absolute cuddlebug. His favorite time of day is when you're snuggled together under a warm blanket. Need I say more? They don't call him "Cozy Kaito" for nothing. He's warm like a space heater, but not uncomfortably warm. ♡Cut the fancy date crap, he'd rather go out for ice cream or a romantic walk in the park. It's the little things for him, and ice cream of course. Taking him out to get ice cream means the world to him. ♡However, he isn't afraid to spoil you silly with little things either. Flowers, candies, various treats, you come home to them all the time. Any of those little things that make your day a little brighter he's gonna do for you. Your smile is incredibly important to him, and he wants to make sure you're feeling loved whenever possible. ♡He's your biggest cheerleader. He wants to see you succeed and will relentlessly hype you up for whatever you're doing. If you are to fail, he'll be there to soften the blow and get you back on your feet to try again. ♡Sometimes, you have to remind him that ice cream and cuddles isn't going to solve every problem. Since he's programmed with the task of making others happy, sometimes he forgets that and may push a little too far when you're stressed. He tries his best to catch himself, and while he is learning to combat that initial urge to cheer you up sometimes he still slips up. Just a simple "I need a little space right now" is more than enough to remind him though. It was hard for him to hear at first but he quickly understood. ♡Another "programming quirk" he has is calling you "Master." If you like that, he won't stop! But if you're like me and would rather him just call you by your name, he'll happily oblige the best he can. However, in moments of passion, he might let a "Master" or two slip out, or combine your name with the word. I'm sure it'll make for some cute pet names. ♡On the topic of pet names, he loves them. Thinks all the little nicknames you give him are super cute. He'll definitely try and find some for you too on the "cutesy-romantic" end. ♡Even Kaito gets sad. He struggles with the idea that he's a failure occasionally and that he's not doing enough. A little love from you is a quick fix, and over time with your care he may even overcome that mindset.

♡He loves to go out places with you, whether it be for errands, work, or fun. If he's not sure about where you took him though, don't be surprised if he clings to you like a lost puppy for a bit until he figures out what's going on. ♡Speaking of cling, he's a clinger. Loves to hold your hand, walk with an arm around you, carry you around the house, sit with his head on your shoulder (or your head on his shoulder!) ♡Kaito plays a lot of different roles when he performs. If there's a specific one you like, he'd be more than happy to add bits and pieces of that role to your interactions. Of course, his usual goofy self will always shine through. Though he's also willing to apply playing the role to other scenerios if you so desire (wink wink) ♡Loves to sing to you. There's songs he sings to you that'll never leave your room, both in a spicy sense and in a "I don't want anyone else to hear this because I wrote it for you and you alone" sense. He also likes to learn the words to your favorites (mainly non vocaloid, or vocaloid songs that don't feature him if applicable) and sing them to you! Expect a lot of sappy, cute song outbursts during your time at home, and occasionally when you're out too but not quite as often. Though you may catch him humming the melody to one of your favorite songs while you're out and about! He'd be incredibly happy if you sang along with him too. Even if you think you can't sing, he'll tell you you've got the voice of an angel. Author's Note: For me personally, I like to imagine he'd sing the chorus to "You Are My Sunshine" every night before bed. But that's just me :) (please click on that. I'm begging you. I have no idea why that video only has like 100 views on it as of me writing this because it's literally so good and heartwarming and it's also like the full song which is honestly pretty sad in terms of lyrics in retrospect but the chorus gets me real good real good reeeallll goooooood.) ♡Last, but not least... The scarf stays on. no exceptions. If you catch my drift ;) (okay. one exception, to throw it in the washer when it gets dirty.)

fhsdlfjsdlkfjsd hope you enjoyed me drooling all over the place with this. I'm starting to become shameless when it comes to sharing this kind of stuff in the best possible way. it's the lord's year of 2024 imma do what I want and write about all my favorite fictional men

[mimisempai]

Dear Crowley…

Summary

A sudden gust of wind blew a sheet of paper written by Aziraphale into Crowley's hands as a word suddenly caught his eye. His own name. 

Impossible, of course, for him to resist the urge to read it.

Notes

Not much time for today's story, but I hope it will be just as enjoyable.

On Ao3

Rating G -  1165 words

"Angel, I'm back! It's windy out there!"

As if to illustrate his point, a gust of wind rushed through the still-open door, and by the time the demon had closed it, the wind had blown away a few sheets of paper that twirled around before falling to the carpet in the middle of the bookshop.

Crowley picked them up and stopped when he saw his name in Aziraphale's elegant handwriting on one of the sheets.

Curiosity got the better of him and he began to read what was written.

Dear Diary,

Or should I say, 

Dear Crowley,

Crowley figured since it was addressed to him, it wouldn't hurt if he read it, so he continued.

Dear Crowley, because what I'm going to write today concerns you.

As do many of my diary entries, but this is the first time I'm addressing it to you.

I have so much to say to you.

When I met you, Crowley, nothing prepared me for you. 

So beautiful, so colorful, so bright in a sky that didn't yet sparkle. So full of life and passion.

How could I not have been immediately enchanted?

Circumstances should have made us sworn enemies after your fall, but they didn't. 

For you and I never really fit the mold. Though it took me much longer than you to realize it.

I have been like a moth drawn to the flame, but I have so often rejected that draw out of blindness and fear.

But you never stopped being there, a constant warm flame that never went out.

Thank you for always being patient with me. For letting me go my own way at my own pace, even the times when I stopped moving forward or went backward.

I'm going to get even sappier, but after all, only I will read his words, so I can indulge myself, can't I?

Crowley, my love.

I call you my love here until one day I have the courage to call you that out loud.

Crowley gasped and felt his cheeks redden slightly at the thought of hearing Aziraphale call him that one day.

My love.

Overcome with emotion, he sat down on the sofa and resumed reading.

I love that you're the last thing I see at night and the first thing I see in the morning.

I love walking through the bookshop and seeing pieces of you everywhere, reminding me that this has become our home. That this is not just my bookshop, but the place where we are now building our life together.

I love what we've become. This us.

You're strong, you're my safe place, I can lean on you, but I also know your weaknesses. I know when you're hurting, when you're afraid, when you doubt. Because you trust me enough to show me and allow me to be your safe place too.

Thank you for letting me be your strength, your support, your comfort in these moments.

I could go on telling you how much I adore you, but it would take me at least ten pages to tell you how much I love you and why, and now that I'm at this point, I realize how silly that idea is. 

I'm going to throw away this piece of paper and tell you all of this in person as soon as I have the courage. Because you deserve to hear it from me. 

Until then, please know that I love you more than anything.

Crowley dropped the hand holding the letter and let his head fall back as a soft smile played on his lips.

Aziraphale...

Only someone like him could write something like that and make it so adorable. His sweet angel.

The demon stood up and carefully folded the sheet of paper before tucking it into his pocket. He wouldn't let the angel throw away such a treasure.

Seeing Aziraphale's coat hanging, he realized the angel was home and suddenly wondered why he hadn't answered when he had called him.

Seeing no sign of the angel on the ground floor, he climbed the stairs.

He called softly, "Angel?"

Still no answer.

He approached the bedroom, and there, on the doorstep, he couldn't help but smile, a smile filled with both affection and wonder.

Aziraphale slept on the bed, the book he was reading open on his chest.

The demon realized it was the first time the angel had slept anywhere but in his arms or at his side.

Crowley couldn't help but smile warmly as the words he'd just read danced before his eyes.

He approached cautiously and nestled close to Aziraphale's head. He moved his hand forward and gently ran his fingers through the angel's soft curls. Aziraphale smiled in response and awoke gently. He turned his head toward Crowley and leaned into the demon's hand as it stroked his hair.

He opened his eyes and his smile widened as his gaze met Crowley's, now very close.

"Crowley, my l-dear?"

The demon, who had clearly heard the slip of the tongue, said softly, "Shhh..." and put a finger to Aziraphale's mouth, who kissed him playfully.

Then Crowley began to speak, his eyes in Aziraphale's, "Dear Aziraphale, I received your letter.  I know I may not have had the right to read it, but I don't regret it and I will be happy to answer it."

"Cr-"

Crowley shook his head, "Let me finish, will you?"

He kissed his forehead gently and continued, "You gave me hope when I thought I had none. When you, an angel, spread your wing to protect me, a demon. You made me forget the loneliness of being a demon of another kind when you showed me that you were an angel of another kind as well, making our two loneliness the first we."

Crowley paused for a moment as he saw a tear roll down Aziraphale's cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb, kissed him gently and continued, "You make me laugh, Aziraphale, you make me smile when sometimes I just can't. I'm not afraid to fail because I know you'll catch me. When I don't feel like going on, you're the one who keeps me going. I love that we take care of each other, that we lean on each other. And finally, I'm going to be as sappy as you, I also love that you're the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night. And I like the idea of that being forever."

Crowley moved even closer and whispered against Aziraphale's lips, "I love you too..." He placed a light kiss on his lips and continued, "More than anything.

The angel, his eyes shining, whispered, "My love..." before pulling the demon to him and pressing his lips to his in a long, tender kiss.

Because sometimes words, whether on paper or spoken aloud, weren't enough to express what you felt.

Because sometimes happiness was speechless, you just had to know it was there.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : here (After season 2)

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[swansworth]

My High Lady

A Darker!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: You are Rhysand’s mate and he is not afraid to make an example out of any who dare harm you. And you are more than happy to let him stake his claim in front of the gathered crowd. After all, he is as much yours as you are his and they all need to remember that. 

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, public sex, finger-fucking, rougher sex, mild breeding kink, semi-graphic torture and mutilation of a prisoner, biting/marking, Darker!Rhysand, mildly possessive talk

Word Count: 2,638

Author Notes: Just a really delicious idea that popped into my head and I had to get out. Considering this is my first time writing for Rhysand at length, I’m pretty content with this. Special thanks to @bubbles-for-all-of-us​ and @azsazz​ for being so lovely and encouraging me to write this. 

Can now be found on AO3 here.

“I have to pretend to be someone I am not when I’m in the Hewn City,” Rhysand had once said, “Though, I will admit, it’s becoming harder and harder to determine where the real me begins and the persona ends.” 

As you stared at him, his violet eyes almost black with fury, you wondered briefly if there had ever been a persona to begin with. However cruel the being before you seemed to be, you were not afraid. This being was born out of a soul-deep unconditional love for you; you would never be in danger of it. Your gaze returned once more to the elemental currently bound before you. He still smirked, as if he somehow had the upper hand in this twisted game he had thrust upon Rhysand. His mud colored eyes turned to focus on you and your fingers curled into a fist, ready to punch that smug look off his face if need be. 

The growl that tore through Rhysand’s throat then, clawing its way out of his mouth—with a ferocity that you could only describe as carnal—was a clear message that the High Lord of the Night Court was done playing games. Rhysand flicked his wrist in a gesture so slight that to the untrained eye, it would have looked as if he hadn’t even flinched. There was a pause, and the elemental laughed at him, and you, not for the first time, felt a desperate urge to tear the bastard’s throat out with your bare hands. 

The elemental’s laughter died suddenly, rapidly changing into a harsh series of screams as his body was overcome with a dark vicious-looking shadow that pulled and clawed at his flesh, tearing it slowly, mercilessly. Rhysand shot Keir a look and the Steward quickly stepped forward to put a small, opalescent, orb on a pedestal beside the restrained fugitive. A light burst from the orb, cutting through the shadow, projecting for all those present the crimes of the elemental and Rhysand’s violet eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“Elemental you may be, Aldric Firedagger, but surely they taught you not to touch that which does not belong to you in the Elemental Planes?” His tone was deceptively calm and you looked at him, watched rage swirl in those eyes that so often held nothing but love and adoration for you. “You tried to drag my love, my mate, back to that cave you call home, You dared to lay your tainted hands on her, hoping that you could steal her from me and then touch her, claim her, in the most intimate parts of her being. That right is mine. As payment for your despicable actions, we ask you to pay with your hands.”

Aldric pleaded, “Please! I need my hands for my work!” 

Poor thing. 

Rhysand’s voice was clear in your mind, as smooth as velvet and just as comforting. 

He hasn’t realized I’m not going to let him out of here alive. 

You know that he didn’t hurt me, Rhysand. 

You haven’t seen what was in his mind. Believe me when I say hurting you was the kindest thing he had in store for you had Azriel not found you in time. 

Then do what you must, love. 

There was a tug of affection through your bond and you offered a reaffirming tug in return. Aldric’s hands were gone an instant later; sliced neatly by the claw-like shadows. You barely noticed his screams, not when Rhysand was gingerly stroking against the wall you kept up, almost as if to distract you from what was happening. 

Rhys, I knew what I was getting into when I accepted the mating bond. 

I just don’t want you to see more than you have to. 

You said that we would do everything together. I intend to endure this together as well. 

You could almost see Rhysand’s smile in your mind. 

That’s my girl.

His attention shifted back to Aldric. For his part, Aldric had stopped sobbing as if he had accepted the weight and consequences of his actions. There was a look in his brown eyes you couldn’t quite place and it was only after he spoke that you knew what it was. “Do your worst half-breed.” 

Facing death had made Aldric bold. His challenging words caused a ripple through the court, a wave of gasped breaths reverberated against the carved stone walls. Fire elemental or not, you had never seen such a blazing look on Aldric’s face before and for a moment you worried that he was going to burst, to scorch you all to Hell. Rhysand, however, was unfazed. 

“They say that it is a sin to covet, Firedagger. Yet, with your eyes you have lusted after many beings, my mate included. Fantasies of passion, both sexual and murderous have filled your gaze and thoughts. I have seen it. It’s all there in your mind, unprotected and exposed. Tell me, Aldric, why is that?” 

“I have nothing to hide. I am not ashamed of my desires, no matter how dark and corrupted they may seem to be.” The burning was still there in his gaze as he lifted his head and squared his shoulders. He was emboldened and reckless and one quick glance to Rhysand’s carefully composed face told you that Aldric had just made his last move in this twisted game of theirs.

“For those crimes, we ask you to pay with your eyes,” Rhysand’s voice was deep, powerful, and you shuddered against him as the shadows made quick work of utterly wrecking Aldric’s eyes. His scream fell on deaf ears, none caring that this measly elemental was being torn apart by the High Lord. 

You supposed it said quite a lot about who you had become that rather than be disgusted by this torturous, public, punishment you felt aroused. There was an undeniable heat pooling between your thighs as you watched your mate’s stronger, darker magic—the magic that made him the High Lord—tear this insignificant being apart piece by piece. It was a graphic display, a goreish show, that had many turning away. Even there in the Hewn City, it was almost too horrifying. You, however, could see it for what it truly was. In the most twisted way, it was a demonstration not only of the High Lord's true power, but of the undying, unconditional love he felt for you, his mate, his High Lady.

Try as you may, you couldn’t ignore that burning heat within you, that flame of arousal. You worried your lower lip between your teeth as you debated what to do. The logical solution was to be as patient as you were able; Rhysand always took such good care of you, knew exactly how to use his mouth, fingers, and cock to make you sing in pleasure. However, a larger part of you wanted to have him right there, audience be damned. Let them see. Let them all see how well Rhysand claimed you and how he was hopelessly yours as much as you were undeniably his. 

It was a thought that certainly had its merits. 

Your fingers wandered down the expanse of your abdomen, around your hip to your lower back where the fastens that held your skirt together resided. With a practiced ease you worked them open, sighing in relief as the immense amount of fabric fell down, pooling at your feet. You stepped out of the skirt, pushing it aside with your foot, and were happy that the cloak Rhysand had insisted on wearing was large enough to cover your now nude lower half.

You brought your hand back around to the small patch of hair resting just above your slick folds, dragging your fingers down to press against your entrance. A low hiss escaped you as they slipped in with ease, surprised by how wet you were already. Your gaze locked onto the slowly diminishing form of Aldric, each scream that erupted from his mouth sending a shiver down your spine because you knew that he was suffering because he dared to look at and touch something that was forbidden to him.

The scent of your arousal was evident to everyone present; they could smell your slick as you worked yourself open, quivering against your mate’s side and moaning into the darkness. You felt Rhysand’s grip on you tighten and all but shivered as he turned dark, hungry eyes towards you. He flicked his wrist again, his gaze solely focused on your face, and he watched as your pupils dilated with a desperate need at the sound of Aldric’s tormented wails. You could so clearly see the depravity in his violet eyes and eagerly met it with your own. It was a look that said I see you and I love you and accept you and Rhysand let out an almost choked sound at the sight of it. 

You gasped as Rhysand turned to face you fully, pulling you close and grinding your bodies together as he bent down to lick his way into your mouth. His left hand wandered down the planes of your skin, joining your own at your dripping cunt. You cried out, using your free hand to grab onto the front of his tunic as he pressed one, two, three of his thick fingers into you, thrusting in and out alongside your own smaller digits. 

You chanced a look back at Aldric and watched as his arm slowly came undone in perfect synchronization with Rhysand’s own gentle touch to your arm. The same happened again as Rhysand dragged his hand up to grip your chin, forcing you to look back at him as he surged forward and captured your mouth once more, his other hand still fucking you open relentlessly. The knowledge that for every inch of you that Rhysand touched Aldric would lose that part simultaneously produced an especially delicious-smelling gush of slick from you and you moaned as Rhysand brought an utterly soaked hand to his mouth and licked it clean.

“Rhys,” you pleaded, sighing in relief when his fingers entered you once more, “Please. Claim me. Mate me again. Show them we are equals.” The implication of your words was understood by all in attendance and Rhysand, who normally took a pause to verify you truly wanted to be ravaged so thoroughly by him, unleashed a sound that was positively bestial as he gripped the corset and blouse you were wearing and tore them asunder.

His hands gripped your waist, dragging you down to the ground with him, into the dust beneath your feet. It was a filthy thing, one that to many would be seen as unfit for a fae of his standing, but neither of you cared. The ferocity with which Rhysand flipped you around, edging you onto your hands and knees—soaked entrance on display like a bitch in heat—sent a full body shudder through you, getting a thrill at seeing your mate so unhinged.

The sound of Rhysand untying the fastens of his trousers was familiar and you pressed back harder against him, hoping to feel some of the cock you knew he was freeing. You could feel yourself gushing, slick spilling out of you as Rhysand rubbed the head of his thick cock against your wet entrance. Rhysand’s normally calm outward appearance was ripped away as Aldric let out a particularly blood curdling cry, his body disintegrating as Rhysand fucked into you in one fluid movement. 

The lack of care you felt in that moment for Aldric should have, perhaps, frightened you. But the sight of his body blasting apart and then dissolving into ash and dust sent a shiver down your spine. It was a brutal, grotesque, thing, but it was a sign that your mate loved you, truly, madly, deeply. If the visual display from the High Lord of Night was not enough, the way he took you, claimed you, in front of all present, was another reminder. 

You took in that glorious cock, moaning at the curve of it. It was a proud, thick, thing and you shuddered as you felt it throb within you. Then, you rocked back against Rhysand, urging him on, wanting more. The base part of your brain, that seemed fond of taking over whenever Rhysand was more feral, was desperate to be glutted with his seed, to be bred and filled with a new life in front of the ashen remains of someone who thought they could have you.

Rhysand was a bestial thing, his grip on your hips firm, keeping you still as he pounded into you. Growls tore out of his throat as his mouth moved against your flesh, biting and sucking all over to mark you, to show any who dared look that you had a lover, a mate, and that he had staked his claim. You were helpless, only able to angle your body to make the slide of his cock easier, allowing him deeper. The speed with which he took you was nearly too much, yet you were thriving, your muscles convulsing around him as he drove into you. 

He thrust in deep and perfect and you threw your head back, exposing more of your neck to his mouth. You screamed your pleasure, and pleaded for him to continue, begged for him to finally claim you. He bit down and your’s eyes widened in surprise as you felt a sudden surge of his power course through your veins, pulsing through every inch of your being. His tongue darted out to lick at the traces of blood seeping out of his claiming mark and you hissed in delight at the sensation. 

“I love you. You rare, beautiful thing. My mate, my wife, my High Lady.” Rhysand’s voice was barely recognizable, more of a growl than anything else. His hips stuttered as he spoke and he bit down once more as he emptied himself into you. The feeling of his hot seed spilling into you, stuffing you full of him, had you screaming as you came at last. 

Rhysand’s mouth was licking and kissing along the mark he had made and you groaned as he shifted. You could feel him in every fiber of your being and finally felt complete. ‘This’, you thought, ‘this is what I was missing.’ Rhysand hoisted you up with ease, standing with you still stuffed full of his cock and seed. He moved you slowly, turning you so your legs could wrap around his waist and you wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it must have looked to your audience, but refrained. Instead, you gasped once more as Rhysand carefully pulled out, his cum leaking out of you and onto the ground below. 

What a waste. 

You couldn’t help but hum in agreement. Though that was a conversation for another time. 

Rhysand’s hands were on your rear, keeping you supported as he looked around at the group surrounding you. There was a dangerous look in his eyes again, silently reminding them all to stay in their place. 

“Someone clean up this mess,” Rhysand snapped, his voice rough and guttural and you delighted at the sound of it, “The High Lady and I are going to retire for the evening.” The High Lady. You grinned wildly at the sound of that. It was merely a title at the end of the day, but it spoke volumes and told all the fae in attendance that you were their ruler, that you were his equal and were not to be trifled with. 

“Thank you, my darling,” You whispered against the shell of one of his pointed ears, your tone sincere and full of the love you held for him. You peppered kisses along his handsome face, neck, and shoulder and Rhysand gave an approving hum before whispering a promise, “For you, my love, my life, anything.” 

[rufousnmacska]

@throneofglassmicrofics

Here’s an entry for Fracture 🥺

This was done super fast and I’m awful at word limits so please forgive me! Also it’s not March yet but I had the idea and thought I should write it now instead of waiting.

A little scene from the victory party at the end of KoA

***

Yrene shrieked as Dorian spun her around and pulled her back against him. The great room was raucous with music and laughter. Humans, fae, witches, from three continents, all celebrating victory. Chaol watched from where he sat with Nesryn and Sartaq, beaming at her joy.

Glancing up at Dorian, she frowned, noticing his distraction despite his perfect steps on the dance floor. His eyes were focused on something over her head and across the hall. She didn’t need to look to know that’s where Manon was seated.

“Why don’t you ask her to dance?”

Dorian pulled his gaze from the witch queen and gave her a polite smile. “I assume she doesn’t dance.” Again, he twirled her, and again his attention flew to Manon before she was back in his arms.

Yrene clicked her tongue in annoyance. “To assume makes an ASS out of U,” she said. “You’re smarter than that, aren’t you?”

Stumbling for the first time in their dance, Dorian gaped at her. “I believe I’m your King, Lady Westfall. Is your language appropriate?” A raised eyebrow was the only sign he was playing.

Yrene raised her chin. “I am practically your sister-in-law. And if you’re being an ass, I will tell you.”

His eyes flicked back to Manon and his shoulders seemed to slump in Yrene’s arms. “I don’t want to scare her away,” Dorian sighed, his face overcome with longing and fear.

Yrene felt it in him. The desire, the timidity, the worry. Her magic sensed it all. She’d sensed Manon’s bottomless grief and confusion when she’d hugged her the other day.

As the music ended, she hugged Dorian then said, “I’ll find out if she dances.” Tugging his arm, she placed him in front of Elide for the next song. Avoiding Chaol’s curious look, she made her way through the crowd.

***

“May I sit here?”

Manon hadn’t seen the healer approach. She hadn’t truly seen anything that night. Blinking, as if coming from underwater, she heard the music, saw the dancing and the food. Saw the healer wait politely for an answer.

Manon nodded, and the healer sat, her hands resting on her belly as she put her feet up on another empty chair.

“Do you dance?”

Her name was Yrene, Manon remembered, turning away to stare at the table in front of her. She’d eaten at Glennis’s urging, and now the food sat leaden in her stomach.

“I was taught to fight, not dance,” Manon finally answered. The healer was smiling, one foot tapping, seemingly enthralled by the celebration.

“I would say I’m sorry to hear that if it weren’t for how you and your witches saved Orynth.” Yrene was now staring at her, smile gone, foot still.

Manon huffed a breath. “Did Dorian put you up to this?” Her eyes had fallen on him throughout the night despite her best efforts not to watch him.

Yrene laughed. “Absolutely not. He’s an idiot.”Without intending to, Manon gaped at the healer. At the expression, Yrene added, “Chaol told me not to baby him even though he’s king. Besides, I just wanted to sit down somewhere quiet. You were at this table alone…” She waved her hand as if that was that.

Alone. Yes, Manon was always alone now, even in this hall of hundreds of people. Even with witches trailing her everywhere she went. They were the wrong witches though.

“I didn’t mean to…” Yrene said, her face exuding a kindness Manon had never seen before.

She’d felt it though. When they’d first met, Yrene had pulled her into a hug that had felt … wondrous. Calming. Like a weight had eased from her chest just a little.

“Will I ever feel whole again?” she asked Yrene, surprising herself with the hushed voice, the blunt honesty she’d never before allowed with anyone but Dorian.

Yrene sat up and smiled sadly, reaching for Manon’s hand. That warmth she’d felt in that hug returned, spreading through her.

“No,” the healer replied. “You won’t. I still feel a piece of myself missing where my mother resided. She can never be replaced. But my heart has grown around that missing part. I have Chaol, our baby, my work, my friends.” At that last, Yrene squeezed Manon’s hand.

“Grief is fickle and sneaky and it never goes away. Some days it will hide and you’ll laugh at a memory of them. Other days it will consume you and you won’t be able to leave your bed.”

Manon swallowed thickly, forcing herself not to sob, not to let the moisture in her eyes overflow. “I don’t know how to live without them.”

Was it her touch? Her warm honey eyes that looked at her with compassion but not pity? How was this healer pulling these feelings from her?

“I didn’t know either,” Yrene said, letting her own tears fall. “But I’m still here. With help from strangers who became friends.” A laugh escaped Yrene’s lips as she looked towards Aelin dancing with Rowan. Focusing on Manon again, she said, “I am a good listener. Whenever you need it.” Another squeeze. “Or I can just sit and hold your hand.”

The magic grew stronger and Manon felt lighter. It wouldn’t take away the pain or that image of white light that blasted her awake whenever she tried to sleep. It wouldn’t get rid of the nausea or the nerves. It wouldn’t fix the fractured heart that was somehow still beating in her chest.

But it felt good. And like she wasn’t alone.

Manon nodded, unable to speak the thank you she felt. And Yrene nodded in return.

They say in comfortable silence for a while as the festivities carried on.

“He’s not really an idiot,” Yrene said in Dorian’s direction.

He was dancing with Glennis now, both of them laughing at the pronounced height difference. The sight made Manon’s mouth twitch upwards. “I know.”

***

Hope you liked this! Check out my fic master list for more ☺️

[webslingingslasher]

Dead or Alive

my first eddie munson fic, lets goooooo. he is so fun to write for, bad boy but also a nerdy boy.

Pairing: Eddie Munson X Reader

Genre: slight angst, mostly fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: your boyfriend has been begging you to play with him, and right when you give in his true colors show

Dunguns and Dragons is fucking stupid. 

You’ve made up your mind, and while you’re at it you’ll tack on understanding how people can hate Eddie Munson. You eye the chain hooked on his belt loop, it hung low and rested around his knee. A candle to the left of him flickers and it reflects in the silver, you want to wrap it around his neck and choke him. 

He dragged you into this, it wasn’t your forte. “And that’s okay!” Is what Eddie would reply, you want to mock his words now. One of his teammates had to call out for a few meetings so he had begged you to fill in every day, multiple times a day for three days. You were at your wits end, even though you had no idea how the game was played, (outside of what Eddie talked about,) you agreed to get him to finally shut up. 

Oh he was ecstatic when you said yes. 

You narrow your eyes at him, he sat next to you in his throne, he’s watching the reaction of his players after he cast another vicious play on the young teens. They talked amongst themselves, stage whispers as they tried to plan an escape route. Eddie turned to look at you, he was gleaming with pride, he was trying to make you proud tonight. He wanted you to see him as a smart, calculated thinker that had excellent storytelling, you could see that he wanted you to be happy for him. 

And you were, at least before what he did. 

He nods his head to the kids, Dustin on a rant about how his skill point would be more useful, Mike was shaking his head with his fingers in his ears going ‘la la la.’ You look him up and down like you’re disgusted, (because you are, who does that?) when his head tilts you know he’s pretending like he didn’t know the betrayal he had just caused. 

Eddie looks at you and leans in, he’s only breaking character for a second. 

“You mad at me?” He wears a sly grin, he knows you are. And he loves it. 

You think of not responding, the urge to spit at him won. “I want to wrap that chain around your neck.” 

His eyes feel like a trap, lost in the maze forever. You won't back down though, not even when he winks at you and holds a hand to his chest. 

“Trust me, I’d love that.” 

You’re grumpy. “You’re insufferable.” 

Eddie gives a sympathetic pout, “Yeah, you’re mad still.” 

His comment makes you cross your arms and stare at Dustin until they speak with a solution. 

The group comes up with an unhinged plan, but it somehow works. When Lucas rolled a D20 even Eddie couldn’t deny the overcoming win that not even he had deemed possible. And even while you wished equal death on Eddie you could still muster up enough love to clap and cheer for Lucas. You’re not sure what he did but you at least know a D20 is a really, really good thing. 

Eddie congratulated the team and teased a trailer for the next week's session before telling them to get their asses out and into Harrington’s car, it’s raining outside. You can hear their voices echo down the hall as they theorize what next week would bring while the door slowly shuts. 

You wish you weren’t stuck riding with Eddie, he can sense this. 

He crosses the room to slide in front of your seat, his lower back rests against the table and he crosses his arms. His shoulders and biceps look strained in the cotton, you try to forget how fucking hot he was right now. Not that you could execute an escape but you wouldn’t even try. 

“Whad’ya think?” 

You huff and make a motion of looking away. 

“It’s just a game, trouble.” 

You can’t help yourself, you slam a foot on the floor and point at him to enunciate your point, “And you killed me!” 

It was a total betrayal on his end. He begged you to join the game, he even came up with a character and a backstory and got you genuinely excited to play. Then he killed you barely twenty minutes in, just gone in an instant. No chance of resurrection, just immediate death. 

The worst part is, he called it. He said it so carelessly, he didn’t bend the rules or try and work around it. No, instead he just hissed through his teeth, “Ouch, you’re dead, Y/N.” You give a small laugh, you think he’s joking, he’s not. Defeat covers your face, you look to Mike who nods softly, you look back at Eddie and… no support, he’s going to the next part. Like your life meant nothing, you meant nothing. 

Needless to say you spent the other half hour pouting at the DM who claimed to have your back but then didn’t.

“You had to die! The game wouldn’t make sense if you didn’t.” 

You look at him like he has three heads, “Right. I forgot, Eddie. The game with make believe characters and skill points and a DM to magically spin a story into something else on the flip of a dime, wouldn’t make sense if I had lived.” 

Eddie finds this adorably funny. His eyes crinkle and as pissed as you are you want him to kiss you until he makes it right. 

“If you take away all the magic there’s still a base game underneath, and you had to die.” 

“If the roles were reversed I would’ve let you live!” Because you would’ve, when you hold the power to instate rules you also have the power to take them away, right? 

He smiles sympathetically, “It’s a good thing you’re not a DM babe, cause you would suck.” Eddie reaches forward to tap at your nose, you tilt up to try and bite at his pointer finger. He saves it just in time, you know he’s trying to be funny but it really did hurt your feelings. 

“You hurt my feelings, Eddie.” You’re honest, he can’t fix it if he thinks you’re kidding. You’re not, he has some real face to save. Especially if he’s insisting you stay the night. 

He can hear by the tone in your voice you’re telling the truth, and for a small fraction of a second his heart squeezes. His tone is gentler, speaking softly he wants to let you know he’s not the enemy, especially when you hear what he’s about to say. “I’m sorry, baby. I couldn’t have let you live because you were a brand new player, that means you have no experience. The guys were already in hot water from last week. It was bound to bubble over into this week.” 

Eddie just told on himself. 

“Wait, what?” 

His head leans towards his shoulder, “what, what?” 

“You knew that I would die? You knew what the plan was for this week and you still begged me to join the game? Like, you got me excited and set me up with a whole backstory knowing I’d die? That is so fucked up, Eddie.” 

Eddie groans, he just made you even more pissed. He has two options, pretend he had no idea this would happen and have you know he’s lying and therefore creates a new problem, or he can deal with you being grumpy for a few hours. 

He reckons the truth is the best route.

“I mean, yes?” His words had you drop your mouth open, he hasn’t finished yet. He holds out a hand to stop you from commenting, “But also, no. I knew there was a strong possibility but I didn’t bring you here knowing for certain you’d die.” 

“Was there a better chance of me dying or winning?” 

His silence is answer enough. 

“Eddie!” You whine out his name, he feels like he’s not explaining it well enough. 

Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose, “Look, I don’t play. I also can’t help you play, that’s my job. If I broke character it would ruin the integrity of the game, trouble. The truth is the kids are at much, much higher levels than you and playing with someone with no levels at that point is extremely hard. They have to factor in your skill level with theirs, and they can’t just bring you along for the ride. So, at that point it was better you die before all of them died.” 

“So… The children killed me?” 

Eddie bounces the words in his mind, he lets out a hum. “Their actions got you killed, however they knew the consequences of what they were doing.” 

You tap your feet on the ground again, an entitled whine ripped through you. “But you’re my boyfriend!” 

A proud grin, “I know I am. You still had to die.” 

“Well, if you can’t keep me alive I guess there’s no point of dating you.” You tried to stand, his hand pushed down on your shoulder to keep you seated.

 “I can’t show favoritism. Especially when everyone knows you’re my girlfriend.” 

You still have a pout, you grumble your words. It tells Eddie you’re more upset about his delivery than the actual actions. “You didn’t have to be so mean about it.” 

“You’re right, I didn’t have to be so dismissive. I know you were excited to play and I moved on from it like it was nothing, but I am the brutal DM, ya know. You’ll just have to trust me when I tell you I was absolutely crushed for you, I really thought Henderson would come up with a way for you to make it outta there alive.” 

You scoff, “Yeah well, Henderson only thinks of himself in this game. I thought it was supposed to be about teamwork?” 

Eddie gives you a small smile, he doesn’t want you to shoot the messenger. “They didn’t see you as a teammate, baby. They saw you as a favor.” 

“That’s fine, just know you and your teammates will never see me here again.”

“Awe, don’t say that!” Eddie reaches a hand out to cup your face, his thumb resting on your bottom lip. “I don’t even have a choice, Eds! I’m dead, remember?” 

Ah. You don’t play the game, you don’t know the rules. When someone dies they don’t cease to exist, they end for that game but the next one they start again. It’s like respawning in a video game, Eddie thinks he can use this to his advantage. 

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” 

He pulls away from the table to sit in his throne, he pulls open his big book and pretends to search around, he clears his throat and starts to speak in his whimsical tone. “When the dust had settled and the gang was gone there was one left behind. They had assumed she was dead, but they had forgotten they were in the land of bones. Witches and warlocks haunted the grounds, anyone who dare die in their land will be avenged.” 

Eddie knows he’s doing the right thing when your face of confusion melted into overwhelming joy. 

“Celia the great opens her eyes, she can barely see through the dust that has yet settled. She calls out for her friends but the only noise is her voice echoing off the walls, before she could question what was happening, Joyana, the most powerful witch in all the land appeared before her.” 

You were nearly bouncing in your seat, your boyfriend was pulling favorites and was bringing you back to life. Sometimes it’s a good thing to have a DM as a boyfriend. 

“Joyana helped Celia the great stand. She tells her, ‘The land of bones is where we must reside, but it is not for you. We must be kept here, but not you. We have harnessed all magic into these walls, the living shall stay living. The dead must die.’ Celia,-” The DM winks at you. “If you roll below a nine you will live, above, you stay in the land of bones with the witches and warlocks.” 

You take a deep breath and nod. You bite your lip and take the dice from Eddie’s palm, he’s given you a D10, not that you’d notice. There wasn’t an option of you losing. Holding your breath you flick your wrist to release the resin, it rolls and bounces on the table. You can’t bear to look, you hear Eddie’s chain scrape against the table when he stands to look at the number. 

His voice is low, “Celia the great,” You open your eyes at him, pleading that he lies if you didn’t win. “You are alive.” You can’t help the gasp that comes from you, a screaming cheer is ripped from your throat as you stand and wrap your arms around Eddie’s neck. Bouncing against him as he laughs and hugs you back. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” The words are mumbled against his shirt, he starts to say that if he wanted you to play next week he had to do something but you couldn’t help yourself from pushing him away by his shoulders before gripping them on tiptoes to place a heated kiss against his mouth. 

Even Eddie, who couldn’t care in the slightest about common decency was taken aback by you shoving him into his seat before straddling him. If he had known you would react like this he would’ve shown favoritism earlier, be damned with his club rules. 

“You know how fucking hot you are playing? Even when I was mad I couldn’t see past it, you look like a boss up there. And you’re so smart, Eddie. You can come up with all these storylines without a second beat and you can pull rank and god I love you.” 

He’ll accept the praise even when he’s exaggerating things. 

“I’ve only dedicated a decade to the craft, I’m glad you appreciate it.” 

You can’t help but kiss him again, “And you saved me!” 

Eddie taps your thighs, “Well if I want you to play next week I need you alive.” 

You grin and try to turn to look at his book, he reaches forward and closes it. Even if you don’t understand the game he won’t let you look at it, no one but him was allowed to look at it. Absolutely no exceptions. 

“I was just trying to see if I leveled up!” 

Eddie winces, “That comes with experience, on the bright side you only have two hundred and ninety nine hours before you hit level one!” 

A grimace has taken over your face, Dungeons and Dragons is fucking stupid. 

[hongcherry]

I saw your post and i thought of smth like one of the members (in my head it's seungkwan but tbh it can be wonwoo) approaches y/n and dino, who at that point have been a long term couple, to ask for advice on getting more intimate with their partner of a couple of months. Y/n & dino suggest role playing and they list some examples which takes them to a tangent of which ones were their favorites which almost goes out of hand until member clears their throat which puts the blushing couple back to reality. Then y/n does a risky move and questions why member even likes the person, which angers said member until they go on a long loving rant, to which y/n just goes ayt mate chill i don't actually have beef w u i just wanted u to realize the PASSION u have which was really just the secret to y/n and chan's loving relationship bc duh who is lee chan if not passionate. And anw said member thanks them and leaves the two alone to get steamy (how much u wanna write is up to u wink wink)

It can even be a two POV thing like u write about chan x reader and another fic for the wonwoo x reader after his convo w the couple, to satisfy your urge to write :> or u could also NOT do it if it doesn't float your boat hehe just thought I'd put it out there :> anw if ever i get out of writer's block and u decide not to do it i might give it a shot (but at this point it is a very big shot in the dark if im even gonna find the inspiration to write it with still having pending WIPs lol)

Anw just came by to drop some crumbs here thank u for ur time i hope you're having a lovely day :>

different roles, same heart || l.c

💗 Pairing: Dino/Chan x Reader (afab)

💗 Rating/Genres/AUs: M(18+); Fluff (no smut but rated M for the context); Established relationship

💗 Warnings: Mentions of roleplaying and past roleplays

💗 Word Count: 1.1k

💗 Author's Note: Awh, thank you for sharing your idea with me!!! Please feel free to still write your own version if/when you feel up to it! Writing's block is a pain in the ass and sometimes difficult to overcome :c I hope you can get past your funk soon! It's a sucky spot to be in. And oof, I have so many WIPs... 🥴 Thank you again, and happy holidays (if you celebrate)!

seventeen masterlist | main masterlist

“Roleplaying?” Seungkwan repeats, eyeing you and Chan with a mix of disbelief and puzzlement.

“Yeah,” Chan nods. “You give each other a role, or character, to be and act out a scenario.”

“I know what it is,” Seungkwan huffs and waves his hand in the air as if to dismiss Chan’s words.

“Why do you seem confused then?” you wonder.

“I just didn’t expect that answer,” Seungkwan replies.

You shrug, leaning into Chan as you both sit on the couch. Seungkwan watches you both from the adjacent seat.

“I mean, you can try toys or different positions, or kinks, but we just found roleplaying to be the most exciting,” Chan explains.

“How so?” Seungkwan asks.

“Well, you can embody roles that normally might be inappropriate in real life, but have a thrilling repute.”

“Like a teacher and a student,” you chime in.

Chan smiles and glances at you. “That was fun, wasn’t it?”

You nod, recalling the time Chan punished you for being a disobedient student.

“Or that one time I was a police officer and you were an inmate,” you continue.

“You looked so sexy with half your uniform on,” Chan murmurs, getting lost in the memory.

“The handcuffs definitely added to it too,” you giggle.

“I liked you in the maid outfit as well. All bent ov—”

Seungkwan clears his throat to stop him.

“I get it,” he says, face slightly red from hearing your stories. “But, isn’t it a little embarrassing to play pretend?”

“It’s only embarrassing if both partners don’t commit to their roles,” you say.

“It did feel a little strange at first, but you get into it really quickly,” Chan reassures.

Seungkwan sounds unsure when he says, “I don’t know.”

You purse your lips in thought and move away from Chan.

“Why do you want to get more intimate with your partner? Why do you like them that much to care?” you ask.

Seungkwan’s silent for a moment, but it seems like it’s not for him to consider the reason. It’s more to calm his nerves before he can get too annoyed.

“How could you even ask that?” Seungkwan scoffs, offended. “We may not have been together as long as you guys, but that doesn’t mean what we have isn’t strong. You act as if you know us better than we know each other. They’ve treated me better than any partner I’ve had before and I can see how much they care about me. And I care about them just as much—maybe even more!”

You chuckle softly. “I never doubted how much you liked them.”

“Then why did you ask those questions?” he frowns.

“Because I wanted you to see it’s the passion that drives the relationship,” you explain sincerely. “It’s not about how sexual you are or the duration of the relationship. It’s about the passion you have for each other.”

You glance at Chan when he’s silent only to find him staring at you with a big smile. You can tell from his eyes how much he loves you. Your heart floods with comforting warmth.

Before you get too lost in Chan, you turn to Seungkwan again.

“Even the most vanilla sex can still be thrilling if there’s passion between people,” you expand.

“I suppose that’s true,” Seungkwan says slowly, digesting your words.

“However, there’s still nothing wrong with wanting to spice things up in the bedroom. Just make sure it’s for the right reason,” you smile.

Seungkwan returns the grin, nodding. “Right.”

Chan leans toward you, wrapping an arm around your waist and giving your temple a loving kiss. It’s as if your words reminded him how much he’s devoted to you.

“Well, I better head out,” Seungkwan says and stands from his seat to make his way to the door.

You and Chan follow suit.

“We hope we helped you,” Chan says, arm around your waist.

“I’m sorry if I made you mad earlier,” you apologize quickly.

Seungkwan waves his hand again, smiling. “I just got ahead of myself. I understand your intention now.”

Chan holds the door open for Seungkwan, watching as his friend stands in the doorway.

“Thank you both,” Seungkwan says.

“Anytime, Kwanie,” you grin.

“And good luck,” Chan winks.

Seungkwan rolls his eyes playfully and gives you both a wave before leaving.

Chan shuts the door, then looks at you.

“What?” you ask, unsure why he’s staring at you quietly.

“You know, when we were recalling our past roleplays,” he begins and grabs your waist to pull you closer. “I kept thinking of new ones.”

“Oh, yeah?” you smile, arms wrapping around his shoulders. Chan’s eyes dart down to your lips briefly.

“I’m thinking you’re one of my tenants, but you haven’t been able to pay the bill for two months,” Chan says.

You listen attentively, heart already beginning to race with the idea.

“So, you’re my landlord?” you ask.

He nods. “And I come by to get the overdue bills, but you still don’t have the money.”

You smile, understanding where he’s going with his scenario.

“You wanna do that now?” you question.

Sometimes, you’ll set a date to act out your roleplays—giving you enough time to get any materials needed or to prepare to be in a certain mindset. However, this one doesn’t appear to need much planning.

Chan shrugs. “I’m okay with that. Are you?”

“I’m more than okay.”

Chan grins and squeezes your hips. You lean in to kiss him, but he keeps you at arm's length.

“You can save that for later,” he says.

You pout but oblige.

“I’m going to get changed then step out for a while,” he explains.

“How long will you be?” you wonder, eager to get started.

Chan chuckles at your restlessness and moves away from you.

“I think it’d be more exciting if I didn’t tell you,” he replies and moves to the bedroom.

Although you try to follow him, he shuts the door on you and locks it.

“Hey!” you whine and wiggle the doorknob. “Channie!”

“Can’t spoil what I’ll wear. Go to the living room and don’t leave until you hear the front door close,” he instructs.

“You know landlords don’t dress fancy, right?” you huff. You can see the appeal in not knowing what he’ll look like but don’t like the idea of waiting any longer.

“It doesn’t matter. If you see me now, it might affect the scene.”

“Fine, I’m going,” you grumble.

“I’ll see you soon, baby,” he calls out sweetly.

“Yeah, okay,” you say as you leave, mouth in a frown.

You know you’re being an impatient baby, but how can you not be when your boyfriend just proposed a sexy new idea and plans to fuck you senseless? 

A/N: There will be a aprt two 🫡

divider credit

©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

[oh-katsuki]

Armin- idk if it’s a trope but being super affectionate all day and not leaving him alone!

rubs my grubby little hands together. i love this guy. thank you for playing!!!!

cw: implication sof obsession but nothing craaazyy, mentions of living in someone's skin, fluff, light kisses, armin uses the petname "darling", we are probably codependent but that's fine <3 couples who do everything together and want to live inside of each other, stay together <3

you want to be around him all the time. you want to be touching him all the time. if you could, you'd crack open his ribcage and live inside of it.

you're not sure what it is about armin that elicits these types of from you, but he does. every time you think of him or look at him, you are overcome by the urge to be near him. you want to be the closest thing to him, even going so far as to feel jealous of his clothing, which gets to cover him all day.

he's in the kitchen now, cooking something for breakfast after spending the entire previous day and night at your place. you can see him from the hallway as you pad to join him, standing in front of the stove in only his boxers and a white t-shirt.

"good morning," you chime, wrapping your arms around his waist.

armin looks at you and smiles, color peppering his cheeks and nose as he smiles.

"hello darling," he almost sighs, pulling you closer. "i'm making us breakfast."

in the pan, he's cooking eggs and bacon. it's simple, but you can tell that he's focused on making it yummy and you smile fondly at him.

"smells good," you sigh and armin leans down to give you a short kiss.

his lips are always soft. they're always so gentle and when he pulls away, they look pinker than they did before he leaned in. you love the color he adopts, the way he lights up like a switchboard. you want to bottle it and swallow it.

"how did you sleep?" he asks.

"i slept well," you sigh, still attached to his hip. "you?"

"mmm good," he leans down again and kisses you.

butterflies erupt in your stomach and you wish you could swallow him whole. he is so pretty. everything about him is so delicately beautiful. his sloping features, his rounded lips, his upturned nose. all of it makes him look serene and lovely.

you follow him around the kitchen as he cooks and then to the table to eat and then around the house as he gets ready to go. then, when he invites you to come with him to run errands, you follow him there too. you think to yourself that there could be no better feeling than living in his skin and when armin looks over to you from the driver's side of the car with narrowed eyes and a deeply affectionate smile, you think that he thinks so too.

send me a character and a fic idea / trope and ill write a snippet of it!

[thelazyhermits]

I was wondering if you would do a one shot of twisted wonderland for a potion mishap, where Yuu turns into a child. The reason I asked this because in your version of Yuu she was robbed of a childhood. I would like to see Yuu enjoy being a kids and the Twisted Wonderland cast act as older brothers or dads in some cases (that means you Trey and Crewel.)

Since my Yuu is the same as the Reader Insert I first created for my BNHA fics, I have received this type of request many times in the past since I've written fics where I've deaged others but I never did it with her, and because of her lack of a proper childhood, she's the one who could benefit from getting turned into a child more than anyone.

The reason I've never written such a fic is because I am not confident about writing from a child's POV since kids can be kinda hard for me to write especially if I'm actually getting into their heads which I would have to do cause I prefer to write from 2nd person POV.

Another problem is that meeting a child Yuu would raise a lot of worrisome questions to anyone who sees her cause her unfortunate upbringing would be pretty obvious just from interacting with her since she'd be wary of all aduts, skittish, really quiet, and would just overall not act like anyone would expect a normal kid to act.

It would honestly be a really awkward situation since Yuu wouldn't trust anyone and she'd just wanna hide away rather than deal with anyone since, to her, there's always the risk that someone will hurt her, which would obviously be very heartbreaking for a lot of people.

Since I'd rather not have Yuu have to deal with the aftermath of that, I'm very reluctant to write that kinda fic since I really don't want everyone to find out about her past.

In order to avoid that, Yuu would have to be younger than she was before she ended up in Japan's underworld so 3 years old or younger and I'm really not confident about writing from that young a POV lol

That's why the only way I could see myself writing a deaged Yuu fic is if Yuu was only physically a kid aka her mental state remains unchanged since that would make it so that she can avoid raising a lot of unwanted questions.

Or I'd make it so that her mental state is that of a child but at the same time she's still aware of her circumstances and who everyone is so she can avoid doing or saying suspicious things so like she tries to act normal but will suddenly be overcome with the urge to do something a kid would do like wanting to go play and run around.

The latter could be doable for me, so I would consider possibly writing a fic like that one day, although I can't make any promises.

Regardless of what kinda deaged state she ends up in, plenty of the TWST boys would wanna dote on her, and that would definitely be the case for all the adults, Crewel and Sam especially lol

Trey would absolutely be the #1 big bro contender cause of his experience and cause he knows she didn't have much of a childhood due to her being similar to Riddle in his eyes, so he would spoil her as much as possible haha

I agree that Yuu deserves a chance to be a kid, and I'm sure it'd be a lot of fun to write her getting spoiled, so I will keep this idea in mind ^^

[isfjmel-phleg]

I was going through my notebook, trying to psych myself up for some writing (which I still haven't done), and found a fragment of a story that abruptly stopped because I had no idea where it was going (what else is new). The narrator is an unnamed Coregean writer describing his experiences at a Faysmondian spa town, particularly an encounter with an unnamed obnoxious boy in blue spectacles, who is traveling for his health with his heavily-veiled widowed mother.

This of course is Elystan and Bethira incognito during his attempted recovery period before going to school in Book 3. I have a Josiah incognito story already and wanted to play around with how Elystan would handle it, i.e. having way too much fun playing a part. How exactly this would go though...*shrug*

Still, I think the start has potential. Maybe I'll return to it if I can ever get motivated again. In the meantime, here's what exists of it, unedited and still with some placeholders.

When I find myself sitting up long into the night without purpose, or moved to tears at the most trivial of tragedies, or overcome with an urge to board a train, any train, and thereby escape the soul-crushing mundanity of an urban penman’s lot, I know that it is once again time to return to [NAME]-les-bains to restore my innervated body and spirit. [NAME], that earthly paradise of healing waters and crisp mountain air and throngs of tiresome hypochondriacs, never fails to work its enchantment. I amble the cobblestones beneath the haloed lamps, take long solitary strolls up Mont [NAME] among the pines and gentians, and forget that such things as editors and deadlines and creditors exist. When my strength isn’t yet equal to such exertion, I lie on the patio of my hotel and bask in both the sun and the satisfaction that but for the grace of God I would be truly among the pitiful creatures nearby, ill with nothing more than the ennui of wealth and indulgence.

It was a patio morning, and I had slept late enough to find that my favourite deck chair, the one set apart from any close interaction with its fellows by an overhanging potted shrub, had been commandeered by some exceptionally self-centred old woman. She sat enthroned there, a smug expression on her elephantine features and not a care in her heart for whom she might inconvenience. I was left to wander the patio in search of another chair, although I knew none of them could possibly suit my needs. At last, I secured a place with no neighbors closer than a couple of places away and settled myself down with my book and my bowlful of cherries to derive what enrichment I could from the morning.

I had barely glanced at the title page when my peace was once more destroyed. Two chairs on my left were taken by a veiled widow and a perambulating bundle of clothes that seemed to be her young son, judging from the fuss she made over him. She positioned him in his chair and draped a rug over him with the care of an artist arranging a still life. As I tried to resume my book, I heard the faint murmur of her low, solicitous voice, met with short, petulant replies, and I shook my head. Most professional invalids at the resort were middle-aged or elderly, but the Delicate Child with a Concerned Mamma had visited often enough for me to develop an understanding of the type.

I steeled myself for a lengthy conversation with the widow, who would tearfully relate the ailments of her darling boy and how they had tried everything—everything!—to help him, and if this place didn’t do the precious child any good, well, she didn’t know—didn’t know what she… Meanwhile, the child would lift a pair of huge, haunted eyes to my face and stare through me to whatever vision of doom lay beyond. It quite puts me off my appetite for the rest of the day.

In a rustle of crepe, the widow swept past me and disappeared into the hotel, leaving the boy beside me. He shakily propped himself up on his elbows and leaned in. I had never seen anyone so bundled up in the middle of summer. He was engulfed in a greatcoat three sizes too large. A silvery green scarf encircled his neck like a serpent, blunting his jaw, and his cap was pulled low over his eyes, as if they needed the additional shade behind their blue spectacles.

“I am giving her ten minutes,” he said in a stage whisper, “to prepare my tea, fifteen at least for her to realize that the book I want isn’t among our baggage, and perhaps half an hour on a frantic hunt through the bookshops so I’m not disappointed. However long it takes, it lets me give her the slip for a little while. Clever, isn’t it?”

I did not reply. He made an impatient noise.

“I said, clever, isn’t it?”

Concluding correctly that he would keep this up until he got an answer, I replied, “And what do you intend to do in her absence? You have no book.”

That silenced him perhaps a second or two. He brightened.

“Yes, I do. Give me that one.”

He indicated my book.

[dreams-and-drabbles]

Hello, hope ur doing well. If it's not a problem I'd like to request kazuha x fem reader who is insecure of her body, especially her flat chest and thinking she's not beautiful and womanly enough she doesn't feel worthy of him. And maybe how he comforts her about this. Feel free to ignore this. Thank u in advance.

I’m totally open to this idea, and thank you for the ask!!! Kazuha is so soft✨ I hope you enjoy the fic as much as I did writing it!

[F/N] tugged at her hair anxiously, her gaze drifting to Kazuha.

He was playing a song for the rest of the crew.

It was the Cruxx Fleet’s music night.

Kazuha almost always held the spotlight on such nights…

Red eyes met [e/c] hues, and his lips quirked up into a small smile, as his gaze fell on her.

[F/N] returned the smile, averting her gaze with pink tinged cheeks. Sometimes—

Sometimes she wondered why Kazuha stuck with her of all people…

She especially wondered on nights like these.

He had such a gift, so surely—

Surely he could do better than her?

She wasn’t exceptionally pretty or gifted, not like some of the other girls she’d seen try to catch Kazuha’s eye..

So why her?

She loved having him by her side, but sometimes…It just felt as though she was holding him back…

Kazuha was the type that deserved to stand in the spotlight.

Her being there—

She’d only end up casting a shadow over him, being as plain as she wa—

Kazuha’s face was suddenly in front of her’s, breaking her train of thought.

“The air around you shifted, love. You’re not doubting yourself again, are you?”

[F/N]’s eyes widened and she bit the inside of her cheek, averting her gaze.

“You should finish your song, Kazuha… Don’t let me distract you…”

She grumbled, guilt pooling up in her gut.

Kazuha frowned, shaking his head with a soft sigh.

“I see. It seems as though you were so lost in thought, you didn’t hear the rest of my song.”

The guilt increased at that, and [F/N] wilted,,before a light laugh drew her attention.

She glanced at Kazuha, her brows slightly furrowed.

He offered her a smile, before fondly brushing the hair from her face.

“It’s fine. I was only jesting, dearest. I’ve played that song more times than I can count. Now, tell me… What troubles are in that pretty head of yours?”

[F/N]’s cheeks burned at the compliment, before she sighed.

“That’s exactly it, Kazuha. I’m not that pretty… Hardly so, compared to some of the other women that like you… I’m scrawny and boyish, no boobs, hardly any curves, no womanly charm, and you…You’re such a star. I’m just… I feel like I’m holding you back. You’re a free spirit, right? Aren’t I just a shackle… in that sense?”

She murmured, fighting back the urge to cry.

There was no reason to be crying!

She was being stupid— This was all so dumb. Why’d she have to bother Kazuha with this? After his performance too—!

Kazuha’s hand cupped her cheek, and his voice came out softly, as he spoke.

“Look at me, love.”

[F/N]’s gaze trailed to his, and she took in the warmth of his smile.

“You’re the one I love, not them, and it does not matter to me how pretty they are, as they are not you. You’re the only one I have eyes for, [F/N]. You’re smart, funny, clumsy at times, and while you struggle, you also overcome. You’ll never be a shackle to me, either. You’re a home, [F/N]. You’re someone I can come back to, and someone I want to come back to. As for womanly charm, I think you’re gorgeous. You don’t need bust to be considered beautiful or womanly, if anyone tells you otherwise they’re selling something. There are cons to being busty as well, such as back problems and—“

[F/N] burst out laughing, pressing their forehead up against Kazuha’s.

“Pffft—! Thank you, Kazuha! Don’t let the Captain hear you say that— Heheheh! That’s—! Back problems… Where’d you even—! Pfft… Where’d you hear that?”

Kazuha’s answering smile was mischievous, and he pressed a quick kiss to [F/N]’s cheek, before whispering his answer.

“As it so happens, the Captain talks about a variety of different subjects when tipsy.“

[F/N] laughed loudly at that, clutching her side as tears stung her eyes.

“Oh my archons… You’re kidding? You’re kidding, right? You’re just teasing me… Pfft…”

Kazuha tilted his head, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

“You could always ask the Captain and find out, hm?”

[F/N] snorted, shaking her head.

“As if!!! You’re so silly, Kazuha. I love you, you know?” She murmured softly, her cheeks tinged pink.

Kazuha smiled at that, before pulling into a gentle embrace.

“I know, [F/N]. I love you, as well, so very much. There is nothing about you that I don’t adore. Your tendency to fret at times, for one, can be rather endearing. Although, I hope this helped to alleviate some of those more troublesome thoughts.”

[F/N] nodded, pressing her face into Kazuha’s chest with a small smile.

“Mhm… I’m not worrying right now..”

Kazuha hummed softly, running a hand through her hair, a small smile on his face.

“That’s good. If you could do me a favor and find me when you are, so that I can remind you how great you are.”

[F/N] grinned, laughing at his words.

“You’re so silly, Kazuha… I’ll take you up on that.”

Kazuha chuckled, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“I’d hoped you’d say that, Love. Silly as I am, I can’t seem to get enough of your company. You see, I’m a fool for you.”

[wild-magic-oops]

Yes! Resisting!Durge and Gale are so good. I do like the idea of Gale playing moral compass. There’s a scene if one of Aradin’s party dies to goblins when you first get to the grove, you can try to mourn their death. Bur the narrator says something to the effect that Durge can’t actually feel bad about any death. So Durge relying on someone else for morality or rein in their impulses makes total sense. And when the urge nearly forces Durge to kill their lover, I love Gale’s response is how he’ll protect them until Durge can overcome their urges. Complete support and devotion. I just feel like Durge needs someone to treat them tenderly and honestly for once. If you’re taking fic requests of these two, I’d love one where Gale is the only one able to talk Durge down from something doing something horrible. Or a more nsfw fic with Gale exploring Durge’s scars because they totally would have a lot especially after Kressa’s experimentation but feel free to ignore this!

I've never seen the line you're referring outside the grove. That's an interesting thing tho!

Gale's response during the Durge-specific Act 2 scene is so wholesome <3 He's so supportive and loving. 10/10

I'm sorry I took so long to reply to this ask, but I was trying to write a ficlet for the first idea you mentioned and it was kinda fighting me. But I figured I'd better post smth rather than nothing, so I hope you like it anyway! Here it is

[domesticloki]

A memory: A confession one Sunday morning

Pairing: Loki x fem!reader

Description: This is a memory. I have a few ideas for these, and to keep the posts short and easy to read in a quick minute, I won’t build them too much in the text. This particular memory is from when you have been dating each other a couple of weeks. 

Word count: 1000

Warnings: smut. Smuttiest of smuts. Smutty smut smut. Although truthfully not as smutty as the smuttiest of smut I write. But still smut. Cute smut. But smut. 18+ 

A/N: After the fall of the TVA a Variant of Loki managed to survive Thanos’ attack on the Statesman. After the events of Infinity war, he met you, and finally got his happily ever after. This is a story of that ever after.

Loki lay in your arms, sleeping. His breath was hot on your bosom and you felt safe, entangled together under the covers. The morning was upon you, but there was no urgency to wake. Lost in thought, you caressed his head and let your hand play softly with his hair, caressing the nape of his neck. His skin was soft to your touch and you sighed a sigh of content.

Your heart felt simultaneously at ease and bursting at the seams for affection for this person, who held onto you in his sleep. His grip was tight, as if he feared you would disappear would he loosen it. You were overcome with affection, placed a gentle kiss on the top of his head, and pulled him against you tighter. 

“Mmm,” you could hear him murmur and respond to your embrace. The change in pressure was awakening him from his slumber. 

“Good morning,” you whispered. He pressed his nose against your skin to allow room for his mouth to find contact. He kissed the first part of you he could find, breathing in your scent. His manhood, laying against your thigh, quivered, and he let out a solemn sigh.

“Good morning,” he replied and nuzzled your bosom. His hot breath against your skin sent out a tingle along your stomach and you could feel yourself pulsating hungrily. You pressed your chin against the top of his head and breathed in his intoxicating aroma. His scent wafted into your nostrils, filling them with a mixture of autumn rain coupled with a sweet fragrance you couldn’t quite pinpoint. You took another deep breath, trying to identify the scent, when he lifted his face towards yours. He pushed himself upwards, capturing your lips in his all while dragging his body upwards tightly against yours. His pulsating manhood pressed against your lower lips and your nervendings sent out pulses from both of your lips that joined in an explosion in the nape of your neck and sent shivers along your extremities. An involuntary cry of pleasure left your lips as you returned his kiss and let your hand fall down to his waist urging his body to make closer contact with yours. 

“Hngh,” he sighed and pushed you to lay on your back. He cupped your thigh, bringing it to rest against his hips and ferociously attacked your neck. His sultry kisses along the soft part of your neck blurred your vision and you arched your neck to allow him more access. With a smooth movement he entered you and you both let out a contented sigh. 

Your hands found the nape of his neck as he continued a rhythmic motion into you and you pulled him from your neck to kiss him. The kiss was sweet and soft and his motion followed suit, elongating his strokes. You felt each moment entangling with him and the scent wafted between you, filling your heart and soul for this incredible man. Your lips wanted to cry out a confession, but you were afraid. Was it too soon? 

Each stroke into you made your core pulsate hungrily and his kisses continued along your neck. He lifted your backside ever so slightly and the new found angle made you inadvertently arch your back as the wave of pleasure overcame you. 

Loki ceased his movements, letting you experience your peek and softly kissed your neck, adding to your delight. 

Your lips almost divulged your thoughts, but you stopped them. You were still somewhat afraid to scare him away, to admit to your feelings. Surely it was too soon.

Loki resumed his rhythmic thrusts into you with a little more intensity and found your lips again. This time, the kiss was far hungrier, as were his movements, and he gripped your waist for support, letting himself get lost in your lovemaking. Your peak was close once more, as if everything and anything he did brought you to your desire. His tongue attacked yours hungrily as he thrust deep into you, sending another wave of ecstasy flowing from your centre, pulsating around your core, your thighs, your stomach and up along your back into your neck.

This time Loki gave you no time to settle in this ecstasy, rushing towards his own peek at the same time. His thrusts became hungrier and he bit gently at your neck, moments from his own delight. 

“I love you,” he murmured into your neck moments before succumbing to you. His words hit you right as you rode another wave of rapture, unravelling together with him and finally falling down, spent, panting and trying to catch your breath.

He lay on top of you, his manhood still inside, and rested his forehead on the pillow. He made to move, but you wrapped your arms and legs around him, beckoning him to relax on you. His breath was fast and his heart raced against your chest. You brought your hand to the nape of his neck and the other to his lower back and breathed in, revelling in the mixture of scents from his sweetness and your lovemaking. He took a deep breath and moment by moment you found yourselves breathing in unison, taking in the calm. His weight on you was soothing, and you kissed the only part of him you could, his collarbone, which was right at your mouth.

Loki rose slightly, just enough to be able to look you in the eye. He brought his hand to your cheek and caressed it. His eyes were sad and fearful, and you could see a tear forming in one. You looked at him softly. He swallowed visibly and whispered:

“I mean it.”

You smiled and let out a sigh of relief. Bringing your hand to his cheek you whispered:

“I feel the same.”

Loki, who had been unknowingly holding a breath, let out a sob as the fear evaporated from his face and the tear let out in relief. As it travelled down his face you leaned in to kiss him softly and inhaled him. 

Lingonberries. Autumn rains and lingonberries.  

[kitkatt0430]

I know you're planning the main Finale Westhallen Fix-It AU (which I'm very much looking forward to) but I also want to know - how would you have done the Cobalt Blue storyline? Like if you'd been writing it, in what season would you have had it and how would it have played out?

I have a few different ideas on that. :D

1.) Armageddon would have been the changing of the guard. Eobard starts as the main villain with hints of someone else at play, slowly revealing Malcolm Thawne - Barry's long lost evil twin like in the comics - who steals Eobard's speed using his Blue Flame, introducing it's power-theft abilities from the start. It's other powers would get revealed over the course of the rest on Season 8 - the ability to create temporary objects and healing powers. It would have given Grant a second change to be both the hero and the villain in the same season - S3 might not have been great, but Savitar had a lot of promise to him and a significant part of that wasn't how he was written but how Grant played him and played Savitar and Barry off each other.

I like keeping the Thawne connection, but it does raise the question as to why Eddie never mentioned having a cousin who looked exactly like Barry. Though the show's had worse plot-holes. And, honestly, I couldn't identify my cousins on sight anymore, so I'd give Eddie not recognizing the similarities a pass.

2.) E2 Eddie in S2 would have made for an interesting Cobalt Blue. Forcing Barry to confront his feelings of guilt about Eddie's death in S1 and opening the possibility of Zoom being after Cobalt Blue for his healing powers as a potential fix for the Velocity induced power incontinence and health problems he's suffering from. If E2 Eddie is morally gray that adds another wrinkle to the whole protecting him thing, as Barry would have to confront and overcome his own tendencies to be kind of a hypocrite about certain aspects of his (and Oliver's) vigilantism.

This opens up the option of E2 Eddie sticking around for S3, assuming the show runners could resist the urge to kill him off too. (And makes me consider E2 Eddie/Barry/Iris... Westhallen of a slightly different flavor?)

3.) Post multiverse reboot, Eddie never came to Central City and is in Keystone instead, alive and well. Maybe a scientist here instead of a police officer. A lab accident triggers his previously dormant powers and he saves his lab-mate's life. Which leads him to seek out the Flash - Keystone's Flash, Jay. This could play out different ways, with this Eddie having led a different life. And maybe Eobard's out to make sure his ancestor doesn't bite it this time, blaming Barry for his own mistake of driving his ancestor to suicide in the pre-reboot timelines. This idea is a lot more nebulous to me, but still an interesting one.

4.) Malcolm, Eddie's younger brother, shows in S3 instead of the Savitar arc. He wants to know the truth about his brother's death and Alchemy - a legitimate threat here - turns Malcolm into Cobalt Blue. Malcolm winds up a dragon ascendant type here, going from lackey to leader and taking out Alchemy in the process because he blames the Flash for Eddie's death. Learning the truth, that Eddie killed himself to stop Eobard, just cements the blame in Malcolm's mind - especially if he's made aware Eobard is still alive. Perhaps driving him to blame Iris too, now that she and Barry are dating. (Not engaged, let them actually date first.)

This would probably also toss out Flashpoint and the needless drama of Dante's death. Or at least push Dante's death to further down in the season so that it's not an off screen event that causes much viewer confusion.

5.) Alternatively S3's version of Malcolm Thawne is just Eddie by another name from Earth-19. HR and Cynthia show up on E1 because she's looking to track down the dangerous breacher and HR was able to get permission from on high to shadow her for a novel. Which she's very unhappy about. This could allow for the re-imagining of the Collectors as a somewhat more ethical and less hypocritical organization, making it less of a protagonist centered moral quagmire that Cisco nearly gets sucked into while dating her.

Malcolm initially tries to pull what Black Siren did over on Arrow - convince everyone he's Eddie back from the dead. Team Flash is suspicious, of course. And that's before they team up with Cynthia and HR to expose and capture the fraud. It could also have Cobalt Blue teaming up with Central City's Rogues would also make it a Rogue season, which the show needed and deserved.