#I just want to see him struggle and flail in many situations. And get him in Jiang Purple. Is that so wrong of me?

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 1: Dread on Arrival

(Part 2)

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #lan wangji #jiang fengmian #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #Yungmeng Jiang Training Arc AU #MDZS AU #The AU name for this idea is something I am 100% willing to change if someone has a better one. #There will be at least 2-3 more comics so *please*. Ideas and feedback welcome. #The core idea behind this AU is that LWJ goes to study with the Yunmeng Jiang sect instead of JC and WWX going to Cloud Recess #But why? Well I imagine Lan Xichen set it up to give LWJ a challenge (more social than skill based) and LWJ rose to it (begrudgingly) #Sort of a 'You've mastered so many Lan techniques but Other Sects have styles that are worth learning.' set up. #Lan Qiren agrees mostly on the basis that...well it's LWJ. Yunmeng Jiang is unruly but LWJ is beyond that riff-raff. He'll rise above it. #This is the story of a boy who thrives on routine and rules spending time in a place that is his apparent antithesis. #Also it is so warm there. He is used to it being cold and what do you MEAN just take off some of my layers? #I just want to see him struggle and flail in many situations. And get him in Jiang Purple. Is that so wrong of me? #(Soaking wet JC is part of my 'JC was born to swim; forced to hold a sword' agenda. Do not remove him from the water) #((Politeness notes: JFM would *not* call LWJ 'lan wangji' nor would LWJ be vocally impolite to a sect leader.))

[eri-223]

situation: helping someone remove an accessory/article of clothing/armor/etc. not often removed? (i was thinking of necklaces, but...)

ah, friend, I asked for cute prompts, received many lovely ones including this one, and immediately started writing for you the aftermath of bloody violence. there are some cute parts in this, perhaps. I did not consult my fanfiction medical expert except to say like "I got this," so any mistakes are my own. for anyone who has been following my hfw opinions closely: burning shores exists in my headcanon only under certain conditions. this is one of those conditions. similarly, this story is not in signal-verse, although perhaps if I had written about one sentence longer it would have had to be, since these two need about thirty thousand words of buildup to get to the kissin. shoutout to the playstation cosplay guides, which provided turnarounds and useful information about materials and such.

aloy/sylens, 800 words, pre-ship 

*

Sylens slammed to his knees in the grass, green staining up his pant leg. The verdant jungle colors clashed with blood so red and free-flowing Aloy thought for a moment the machine might have taken off his hand.

Aloy and Sylens had gone to the jungle shore tracing rumors of a surviving Zenith mobile platform. Now, Aloy left her spear in the machine’s guts, seeing by the shudder and collapse that it wouldn’t rise up again, and hit her own knees hard. Craned to see whether she was about to have to figure out a prosthetic for the only person on the planet who could reverse engineer a Zenith shield.

Sylens winced and ripped a strip of cloth off his wrist. Repositioned it to staunch the blood pooling over the back of his hand. His metal brace hung at a broken angle; the machine’s flail had cut up and under the brace, through leather and linen. Aloy’s voice clenched in her throat. This can’t be what kills him. Not after everything. 

She wouldn’t fuss over him, and he wouldn’t want her to. But her throat relaxed when he spoke. “Need to elevate it —“

So he hung his head against the machine’s strange, smooth chassis and stretched his arms up, one hand clasping the other wrist. Closed his eyes and breathed hard. Aloy, breathing hard too and wanting to close her own eyes, started tearing the machine’s wrenched-apart limbs into scrap. Sylens wouldn’t necessarily tell her if he was hurt badly, but she’d be angry if he didn’t, angry that he valued his aloofness more than their shared venture, angry that … well, scared that he’d leave her again. They’d just gotten used to each other. They’d just started sharing meals with Beta at the base.

“Tell me that cut isn’t as bad as it looks,” Aloy finally said, half-way finished with material recovery. 

“It is not as bad as it looks.” Sylens struggled to unpeel tangled cloth from the metal brace as blood dried and turned tacky. 

“Let me help you.”

“The wound shouldn’t be moved now. Surely, you know that much.”

Aloy climbed on top of the machine. Flopped down on her belly and eased his palm off the metal from above. “It’s tangled.”

“I know.”

“Do you mind if I move this?” The brace — a strut from a Ravager, most likely — had nearly fallen loose from the wrappings. 

He sighed, exasperated, and she pulled back. Battlefield care was one thing. But the blood was clotting, the emergency ending, and she hoped to show some respect for him. She wouldn’t help if he didn’t want, out of both that respect and many years of anger. Grudging as it was, their last serious conversation — after her return from the Burning Shores — had left her with a smile and some mutual respect, and had left him working in her room, as comfortable there as he was in his own skin.  

“If you must,” he said.

She untangled the brace, pulling strips of blue linen with it, and tied it to her belt. After that he was quiet and watched her. The leather wrapping hooked around his thumb was ripped down to the big veins at his wrist.

“I have to cut this off,” she said, “Or it’ll stick in the wound.”

Sylens nodded. 

“This angle will make it difficult,” Aloy said, realizing as she spoke. “Put your hand down. The blood is clotting.”

He nodded. With both of them standing in the green clearing she could lay the golden edge of an arrowhead against his wrist and tear. The battlefield healing was nothing new to her — she’d helped other people with wounds after the battle of Meridian, and after some Tenakth or Utaru skirmishes — but since Sylens had always held himself so aloof, it was strange to see the calmness with which he presented the underside of his wrist to her weapon. Aloy found herself holding the back of his hand in the palm of hers to wash the wound. He kept his fingers curled up so as not to touch her. The flail had laid open a thin layer of fat on his lower arm, but at the back just below the first set of piercings, not near the vital veins. She had done all she needed to do now; he could do the rest. But … 

“I have herbs,” she said. “Let me fix this up before we start a long ride back.”

So she packed the wound too, and this let her feel the warm weight of his wrist in her palm for a while longer, let her look at the proportions of him and feel the pulse point under her fingertips. She hadn’t noticed such details before, the hair on his arm or the lines on his palm. All the while he looked at her with the new openness she had seen since he started living at the base, a sort of surprise that softened his face. People think Avad looks regal, Aloy thought, because they’ve never seen Sylens … 

His hand trembled slightly. Aloy had packed the wound all she could. She handed him the brace and the torn linen strips, which he took in a firm left hand. No tremble there at all. 

#writings #horizon forbidden west #aloy/sylens #hzd for ts #sylens #aloy

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 12: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should rest for the night in an abandoned barn ...

~

Somewhat nervous about being out in the woods alone at night, he decides to try finding a more hidden sleeping spot, further off from the path. Though with his injuries, and his exhaustion, he knows he shouldn't walk too far. He tells himself that he'll just adventure a little, only an hour or so, and if he can't find anything better by then, he'll just give up and set a tent in some bushes somewhere......

After 30 minutes, he finally stumbles across an old barn. He can't see it very well with just a trickle of moonlight and the dull glow of his flickering lantern, but it seems to have not been used for many years. Structurally sound enough (at least he hopes), yet shrouded in moss and blankets of various overgrowth.. It takes a few moments to pluck away all of the ivy blocking his path, but he soon closes the rickety doors behind him to focus on the interior. There's no space to light a fire or set up a real tent, and he'll have to block a few holes in the walls so wild animals don't sneak in, but, there are a few surprisingly clear looking sections scattered amongst all the musty hay bales and cobwebs. He chooses a "cozy" spot in the corner, hidden behind a few dusty crates. Though he tosses about uncomfortably in his bedding for quite a while, he's eventually able to fall into a peaceful sleep.….....

.. Suddenly, he's startled awake by rustling, catching a dark blurred movement in front of him. He's smart enough to always sleep wearing his backpack over his chest so nobody could just grab it without him noticing, but it seems for the first time in all his travels... someone is actually trying to. Still half asleep, he clings to the bag and yelps, pushing and tumbling away into a moldy wooden barrel after an initial struggle. He pulls himself up to face the hooded figure now looming above him, entirely obscured aside from their vague cloak-ish shape outlined by the faint moonlight behind them.. The Adventurer calls out in a shaky attempt at an aggressive tone, "Wh-wh.. whAT are YOU DOIng? WHo-whu..UHHH??? aahhhG" "Give me the bag." The hooded figure speaks in a smooth, stern, yet calm voice, slowly taking a step forwards. The cat scrambles to The Adventurer's side, hissing and giving a low growl.. "w-WELL , uh,, sORRY , n-NO , I would rrrather not DO THAT, I h-- I uh-- I don't have even anythi- I don't even have ANYTHING, I mea- wh-wh HWaAt d-do I look RICH to you?? EUggh-" he gulps loudly, holding back nervous vomit, "B-BACK OFF!! you-.. f- uh.. THIEF!!!!!" The hooded figure pauses for a moment, as if re-strategizing how to approach the situation. "Look, kid, I don't want to hurt you. But I need you to give me that egg." "WHWh-what egg? I-I don.. DON'T have an EGG, I'm uh…aCTUALLY a-allergic to eggs, s-sso-" "The egg that's in a wooden box. In your bag. Don't waste your time bullshitting me.. Come on, let's make this quick." The hooded figure extends their arm, motioning to be handed the egg. Still desperately fighting not to throw up everywhere, The Adventurer simply sits on the floor, staring up at the hooded figure blankly as he tries to think.. Is he seriously being robbed for the first time? Is that like, a cool milestone, or a bad one? He's read about it in adventuring books before but... the reality feels so much different.. How can he get out of this? Strategies scatter through his mind, but he's too shaken to find any clear answers.. What should he do?

-

Additional Information

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

#paventure posting #poll #polls #choose your own adventure #for the record - if he had gone to the stranger's cottage. walked all the way to the villiage. or kept walking all night. the hooded figure #wouldnt have had a safe place to corner him and would have had to wait for another day. all the other options #(abandoned barn. sleep out in the woods. etc.) would lead to the same thing #The dice lady was letting him know someone has been following him. perhaps multiple someones #I was also going to include the options 'threaten to blow up the entire barn with magic and then nobody gets the egg' #and an option for him to just throw the egg on the ground and break it #but those seem more out of character and also breaking the egg would end his quest anyway since he would have nothing #to bring the Innkeeper's brother anymore lol #also a 'tell the cat to attack the robber' option but I was afraid too many people would choose that thinking it was #funny or a cool way out of the situation when like.. realistically the cat would get hurt actually and I don't want to endanger them #or have to write about them getting harmed lol. WHICH I know is a choice. I could be like 'wow the cat is actually a #magical cat and they explode the person and win hooray!' . but it feels too far fetched given the hooded stranger's background #they're not going to be like completely incapacitated by one small cat #things must be goofy and silly and fantasy but also.. underlying realism to an extent #I held back on not making him get more injuries after sailing down a river in a dinky little raft because I really think thats probably #quite dangerous hjknjk. I stated it was a very slow moving river specifically to make it seem a little more plausible but #I feel like in real life the current would just smash your raft into a rock in like 10 minutes lol #ANYWAY.. uh oh. boy in danger! #he can get out of it though. I believe in him #somehow an unskilled swagless penniless nervousboy can still make his way in the world #(he does have SOME skills ghhgh.. just like. not really adventuring suited ones. since he just started adventuring like #less than a week ago and has no training or practical experience aside from reading a lot of storybooks) #also I know his belt thing is on the wrong shoulder... shhhh... I still don't feel good and drew very quickly and am not #going back to make changes lol

[luvyersblud]

big time crush: carlos garcia x reader

(skates n’ sticks)

des: you were embarrassingly bad at ice skating. it would be less humiliating if not the fact you were tripping over yourself while trying to play hockey with your best friend.

tags/genre/warning: fluff, mentions of scraped knees, uhm hockey?? idk hockey players scare me

a/n: my first date was ice skating lmao this was cute to write-I’m sorry this wasn’t as good I had too many ideas and too little time </3

———

“Oh shi-“ You stumbled over awkwardly, nearly face planting into the pressed ice as Carlos ran over to try and hold you up. Apparently he was missing Minnesota, but thank god for ice skating rinks if not for the humiliation involved with trying to learn how to play hockey. “Can’t we just do normal ice skating? Why do we need a stick?” You groaned as he pulled you upright.

“Because I’m the celebrity,” He smiled. “It’s not that hard, y/n. Just like-Go with the flow and stop dragging yourself around so much.” You genuinely questioned why he didn’t just stay in Minnesota. He was more than capable at becoming some hockey player, with how he casually drifted across the ice and maneuvered as elegantly a hockey player could. Of course he was talented in music, which you admired, but if he just stuck to hockey you wouldn’t be here embarrassing yourself. “C’mon, just get this puck into the net and then we can run some laps!” You flailed your arms wildly, falling on the hockey stick and your knees.

“Carlos. I am physically incapable of doing this.”

•••

It’s been around fifteen minutes and you only made it halfway across the rink. Carlos was waiting for you by the net, looking casual as ever while grinning from ear to ear at seeing you struggle. It was sadistic and horrible and having him make direct eye contact with you was even worse, the weird fluttering in your chest distracting you from standing upright. “You can do it y/n!”

“Please shut up!” You struck the puck with the stick, missing just ramming it into Carlos’ foot. You winced, rushing over to see the damage, and he looked up at you in awe.

“Hey-You just skated across the rink!” He laughed, before you fell backwards in either shock or just being heads over heels in love. “Oh. Well, at least you managed to make it over here!”

“Did you get hurt?” You asked, shaking some stray ice shavings off the back of your head. He offered a gloved hand, firmly holding your’s to pull you back up. You held the back of your head, hissing at the soreness.

“I’m alright. Maybe we should get you a helmet next time, but I’m sure by the time we’re done with this you’ll be a total hockey expert.”

“Please don’t lie to me,” you snorted, before slowly making your way back to the benches. Next time? He wanted to do this again? Sure you guys were friends but you didn’t spend that much time together-Did this mean he enjoyed spending time with you? “Next time? I’m not sure if my knees could handle a next time,” you emphasized, rubbing your hands over the sore joints.

“So we’ll get you knee pads, duh,” Carlos finally took a seat next to you, swinging his legs around. “I like hockey and I like you, sooo…”

“You like me?” You asked, bewildered.

“Wait…Was this not a date?”

“What do you mean not a date??” He hurriedly took his phone out of his pocket, rubbing off the melted ice and opening the conversation. You didn’t expect your name to be saved in his phone with a smiley face, and that made you feel even warmer inside.

Hey so 4 the date, how does the fifteenth sound?

He pointed exaggeratedly at the text you sent, your cheeks flushing from the sheer humor of the situation. “Date as in the day, you idiot!” You laughed, a slightly gross sound due to your runny nose from being in a cold ice rink for so long.

“Wait, so that wasn’t a confession?” Carlos scratched his head, putting his phone away and holding his hockey stick. You began to undo the laces of your skates, sighing and shaking your head.

“Well, do you like me?” He nodded, dumbfounded at the idea that the word, “date,” could have two different meanings. “Then I like you too,” you smiled over your shoulder, as his face slowly morphed into a warm grin.

“Wanna get ice cream then?” He asked, rushing to stand, almost bouncing with giddy energy. You tried to hide your enjoyment to his evident response to you liking him back, and you attempted to hide how you felt like a million butterflies got released in your chest. He rushed off before even hearing your answer, tripping in his skates and falling to the ground. You winced, walking over to help him up as he continued to grin at you. “Oh man, isn’t this crazy?”

“Crazy,” you indulged. He nodded excitedly, practically ripping off his skates to run to the lobby with you so you two could get ice cream. He was more excited than you about this predicament, this revelation of friends to lovers.

“But we’re gonna do this again right? ‘Cuz you never managed to get the puck in the net,” he bounced around you, his energy infectious—your cheeks hurting from smiling.

“I guess. Only if you pay for the ice cream.”

“Deal!!”

#big time rush scenarios #big time rush x reader #carlos garcia #slay what you wanna slay #big time rush #big time rush imagines #carlos penavega

[princeofgaycats]

fluff prompt list number 16!

cat's grace.

astarion supposes, pawing at the twine around his neck in a vague affectation of a collar, that he should have seen something like this coming.

"az."

"yes, dear."

"why are you a cat again?"

his tail swishes over dead leaves. at least this campsite is drier than the one near last light, astarion muses distantly, avoiding lux's gaze. even on solid ground, the air was always wet, waves splashing up to shore.

the tiefling crouches down closer to his height. gentle fingers smooth the fur atop his head, and he can't help but tilt into it. "i'm not mad at you, i'm just worried i need to go stab someone i already killed."

astarion flicks his tail again, avoiding eye contact the same way it usually does. "this is more gale's fault than mine, really. he's the one who said there was some other magic attached to the hag's boon, something beyond the enhanced dexterity." he growls when lux raises an eyebrow. "like any reasonable person, i wanted to figure it out. it's something to do in these cursed lands that isn't trying to wrestle with the necromantic tome again.

"besides, having unknown magic hanging about my person can't be good. it's only right to puzzle out what it does!"

his ears lay back as he glares up at a very bemused lux.

maybe he should have endured the mystery.

"you know gale's out with wyll and karlach, right? he's not gonna be back til, like, this evening… or whatever counts for an evening around here," it grumbles, its own tail flicking. "no real way to fuckin' tell. anyways, uh, whatever." lux tugs at the twine. "you want i should try gettin' this off?"

astarion takes stock of the situation. last time, the transformation left him panicked, struggling hard against the cat's reflexes. now he feels… fine, actually. it's annoying to be changed against his will, but there's not a cage pressed against his mind. only…

he narrows his eyes, and lux leans back. there's something attached to him. not physically but stuck on the edge of himself, cold and sharp, dark and familiar. astarion leans towards it-

and stumbles on his hands and knees, barely caught by lux's flailing. thankfully his clothes survived the trip, or he'd be even more flustered. as is, he coughs as he pushes himself upright, straightening the collar of his shirt. the half-burnt twine is once again hooked through his belt loops, hanging innocently from his hip.

he expects to be mocked and is taken off guard by lux's grin and the hand clasping his shoulder. "whoa, great job! you figured it out yourself! some sorta, uh, uh- shapeshifting magic, transmutation? enchantment? those are weird to work out, i'm not a wizard, whatever, anyways, that was cool!"

"i- yes, it rather was, wasn't it?" astarion has no idea how he did that, but he's not going to turn down free praise. lux's hand is warm, squeezing once- and then it blushes and pulls out of his personal space.

cute.

lux's grin softens to a smile, and it gestures at the twine. "can you do it again? you could sneak through so many gaps like that, and there's enough cats when we get to the gate no one'll think it's weird to see another- oh!" it breaks into a snicker, hands flapping then pawing at its mouth. "we could, we could, 'oh, please let me in real quick, my cat got past your gate!'" it simpers to an unseen guard, or noble, or shopkeep. "and then boom, we have a reason to be places, easy!"

"well, i have to say it's more interesting than simply charming the doorman…" astarion chuckles at its bright-eyed excitement. "let me try."

lux straightens up and forces itself quiet, though it can't stop the wagging of its tail. it truly doesn't take much to entertain the warlock.

astarion closes his eyes and rests a hand on the twine. first, he tries to sense the cold feeling again, but it isn't there; instead, there's a soft, lazy warmth under his fingers. in his mind, he grabs ahold of the feeling, pulling it closer until his bones rattle with it, and then he has to brace himself on his forepaws to keep from losing his balance.

he knows for sure he's done it correctly when lux coos at him. astarion purrs his pride, opening his eyes to take in its admiration. it extends a hand that he happily nuzzles into, urging it to scritch his jaw with expert fingers.

he hardly notices that he's following its retreat until his paws rest on its knee, neck stretch after its too-far-away hand. "what are you doing, get back here!" astarion protests, and lux has the audacity to laugh as it returns to its duty. each pet has the perfect amount of weight behind it, tousling up his fur and then smoothing it back down. now that it knows about his scars, it's gentle with his back even in this form, only touching the runes to figure out where the edges are.

the focused attention draws him closer, and astarion consoles himself with the fact that no one's in range to see him slink into lux's lap. it's warm and purring to match him, looking very much feline itself with perked ears and half-shut eyes. when he reaches up and paws at its chest, demanding more room silently, it obeys, laying back on the cool ground to let him sprawl across its torso.

"sweet, lovely… good good good…" lux's voice is mumbled, barely audible. he's not entirely sure if it knows it's talking, but coupled with the petting, he's not going to protest the absent compliments. astarion rolls on his side to tuck his head under its chin, freeing up space for it to pet along his ribs.

"how are you so comfortable?" he mutters, and takes a private joy in feeling its laugh bounce his body in place. "i've seduced people in beds less pleasant."

"i was put on toril to pet cats and kiss guys, and all the guys are unavailable."

#cat az anon come get your food #princeling writes #ladychraelix #copper blood #azzy

[dark9896]

Succumb [Zapp x Reader]

TW: I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TAG JUST PLEASE DON'T GO FURTHER IF TALKING ABOUT THE SLOW DESCENT INTO MADDNESS/SUICIDE AND ASSISTED SUICIDE MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.

So this was going to be a blurb cannon for everyone, but I couldn't stomach hashing it all out in one post. Maybe I'll cover the others in time, but with such a sensitive subject matter it will be a long time between each installment.

.

Every door Zapp opened and slammed shut left him more and more frustrated. If you had gotten out... if he couldn't find you--

Spinning on his heels, Zapp had one sword formed in his hand instantly. Fending off a blood-crazed blood breed wasn't an easy feat, but by god was Zapp doing his best. You weren't like this... there had to be a way to snap you back to ypur senses...

"Hey, c'mon sexy." Zapp's desperation bubbled to the surface through gritted teeth, "You know me, just relax... c'mon..."

Knocking you back again and again until you were in the kitchen took longer than Zapp liked. Too many close encounters for his taste, but there was fresh blood in the fridge. If he could just grab a bag real quick...

Slamming the microwave door closed much harder than needed, Zapp hoped he pressed the right button while he focused on your attempts to feed off his blood again. This whole situation was getting old, but Zapp couldn't bear losing you.

It would likely kill him either way...

.

Sitting with a huff, Zapp pulled the towel over his head. The damn microwave exploded again and now the kitchen looked like a crime scene. It wouldn't for long, but the feeling of being licked clean by a hungry blood breed wasn't going to just leave Zapp's mind anytime soon.

Especially not when he still had to be extremely careful to not let you drink his blood.

But at least you'd have the kitchen cleaned soon enough. Though the next time he might not be so lucky.

Shaking his head, Zapp laid back against the pillows. He can't think like that. You aren't a monster, Zapp refuses to even remotely think of you like that. This was maddening, but if he couldn't keep you hidden...

Covering his eyes, Zapp pressed in until he could only see little lights and rainbows. This had to blow over soon. Until you did, you were in danger of being sealed.

Zapp sitting up was too soon as he flailed in the open air, thoroughly surprised by your sudden weight on the bed. Fight or flight was a b*tch. Chastising himself for even thinking that for a split second, Zapp couldn't help losing the fight with gravity as he flopped back on the bed.

"I went feral again, didn't I?" Your voice was hollow, "I saw the aftermath in the kitchen while gnawing on a dish cloth."

It didn't matter whether Zapp answered, you knew the truth. Though his silence was a little too telling, not to mention how the kitchen looked... especially with the microwave smoking.

"This can't keep-"

"Don't finish that thought!" Zapp struggled to sit up again, "We'll make this sh^t work. It won't be much longer until this goes away."

Turning toward him, "How can you be sure? Neither of us know what we're doing! We don't know if there is a--!"

"There has to be!" Zapp hit the bed, "You never chose to be this-!"

"What does that matter now? This whole situation could end horribly!"

You had to force yourself to calm down, before you bit your tongue with your fangs. This was going too far, and with no light at the end of the tunnel... you couldn't justify putting this stress on Zapp.

Sighing heavily, "We need to talk about what to do next. I don't want to become a monster. All this is just gonna lead to someone getting hurt and won't be able to live with myself like that."

"You aren't a monster." Zapp shot, "And I can handle when you do go feral. There's nothing to talk about."

"Yes there is!" Flashing red eyes and fangs at Zapp, you couldn't stop the trickles of blood coming from your eyes, "You can’t keep putting this off! I can't keep control over myself and you can't be here 24/7! We have to face the fact that I am a monster, that I need to be controlled or killed!"

"Why does it have to be this drastic!?" Zapp yelled back, "There's gotta be a middle ground! A... A ritual, a something that can fix this!"

"I doubt that there is a middle ground." You turned, wiping at your eyes, "Not when I keep attacking you..."

Moving to curl around you, Zapp whispered, "We... we'll find something. I... I can't lose you."

.

The second that Zapp heard of a rampaging blood breed in the city, his thoughts instantly flew to you. If it was...

No, no, no. Zapp didn't want to think about that.

But fate wasn't so kind. As much as Zapp wanted to act distant, he couldn't. Seeing you being absolutely feral while looking for blood was something he couldn't ignore. Not when this was the least controlled environment he could ever be in.

Zapp couldn't even look as you screamed. Even as you screamed for him, no matter what he would have to deal with after this...

It wasn't the best thing to have to explain why the blood breed knew his name. He just lost his lover, someone he never wanted to lose.

#bbb #kekkai sensen #kkss #blood blockade battlefront #zapp renfro

[vampire-the-askerade]

LaCroix x reader pt 2

[finally getting this up here. Just something I think I forgot to say on the first one, this is slightly based on the story of My Fair Lady, so the reader insert is a bit headstrong and has no real inclination of fancy society manners, something that LaCroix seeks to change as he is seen as the surrogate sire.]

The following night started with the sound of many things crashing, doors slamming open, and thunderous footfalls of frantic running. All that you were aware of happening was suddenly being cornered by someone that you had gone out with, and waking up in an unfamiliar place. Truthfully, if you were to stop and think a bit more, you would have remembered a fuzzy time of being somewhere else, somewhere much dingier than the lux penthouse you were now in; however, you could not be troubled with stopping to think as you were too busy flailing about in pursuit of an exit. Realistically, this apartment, though fancy for an apartment, wasn’t even that much larger that a typical one-story house. It was the panic that was making it labyrinthine.

You must have been borderline frenzied and bouncing back and forth between the same three rooms somehow, and LaCroix saw his life grow more difficult by the second as you struggled to do something as menial as open a new door. Eventually, the door leading into his office finally flung open, causing the sheriff’s hands to twitch instinctively and calm themselves before he carried out his usual means of violent protection. You stood there and stared at the two of them, trying to parse out something of your situation. Not wanting to afford any more of his time for you to try to come to conclusions yourself (something that would be virtually impossible seeing the circumstances). LaCroix stood from his chair to introduce himself and start your journey into understanding your new life. “Good evening. I am sure that you are wondering-“

“WHO ARE YOU CLOWNS AND WHERE AM I?!”

LaCroix’s cheek flexed slightly as he kept an irritated nose twitch in check. He should have surmised that you might have reacted with something like this given the prior events. Taking a deep breath, he went to start again. “As I was saying: I’m sure that you are wondering what exactly-“

“I’LL FIGHT YOU!” You interrupted once again.

“You will not.” LaCroix scolded and gave a subtle signal to the sheriff to watch you. “What you are going to do is listen.” You both eyed each other contemplatively, while the sheriff kept his own, less involved watch on you both. It seemed that you were finally starting to calm down, even if only a little, and if you were indeed at least somewhat reasonable then you would soon be settled into hearing LaCroix out.

“No,” you said not so reasonably in a confident tone. It was a good thing that LaCroix had told the sheriff to keep an eye on you, because as for himself, the prince found the outright refusal of his demands dumbfounding, thus making him slow in reaction. Of course, he didn’t use any of his unearthly powers that were readily available to force you into obedience, but usually with kindred that were this new to everything he didn’t have to. Seeing as the sheriff stopped you as you were already partway out the main door and heading for the elevator leading out of the penthouse, it would seem that he would need to employ such means at the beginning of your tutorship at the very least.

If anything could be said about the sight of you desperately trying to fight your way out of the sheriff’s hold, it was that LaCroix got to see his guard’s impressive strength played to its full potential very rarely these nights, and the fact that he could so easily subdue you with a single arm holding you over his shoulder where you couldn’t reach anything that could actually hurt him though out all your kicking and scratching was an entertaining reminder of that. Once you were back standing on your two feet in front of LaCroix, the sheriff now holding both of your arms to your sides so that you were completely confined, it was time to finally tell you what was going on; this time without the planned pleasantries and flourishes as LaCroix had no desire to be interrupted again nor did he want to drag out this debacle more than it had already gone.

“Listen well, you mule-headed degenerate. You are no longer human. You are no longer alive.” Usually, things were broken to neonates more delicately if the situation did not call for a purposeful mental collapse, which in this case it did. He needed to catch your attention, and he most certainly had it now. “You have been transformed into something other than you were- something that many dream of becoming- a higher being- a kindred.” Your face contorted in disturbance at his words. “So, what? I’ve gotten myself sucked into some sort of cult? Just my damn luck!” You spat out, not necessarily to him but certainly in a manner that was supposed to be heard by him. “No, you are now what you might have known in your old life as a vampire.” LaCroix corrected. You once again stared blankly at him. This staring lasted a few beats before you looked like you had calmed considerably. Then, in your newly acquired calm attitude, you monotoned, “You’re completely nuts.” More so in a tone of realization rather than horror, though that certainly was an undertone.

“Perhaps it seems so at the moment, but you must listen to what I have to tell you. Perhaps it would clear some things for you.” LaCroix was trying his best to be civil, but at this point, he was not the fondest of you. And, you, while a bit more on the frazzled side at the time, still were aware enough to get the pandering tone that it was said in. Something else that you were acutely aware of is that as long as their attention was on you, there would be no way that you were going to get away from here. So, your best bet was to try and play along with whatever they wanted you to do- if that’s playing Dracula then that’s what you would do; certain activities barring that is. That made it where you were finally going to be still and listen, much to LaCroix’s relief. “See? You can be reasonable if you put in the effort.” LaCroix was snide with his comment and were you not now concerned with the state of your well-being, you would have said something about his tone. Not caring about your feelings any more than he cared for anyone else’s, LaCroix was content on simply continuing. “When you were turned into your current state, the person that did so was deemed a threat. They were promptly dealt with in the appropriate manner, and I most graciously offer to take you into my care, much to the surprise and distaste of others involved in your fate.” This was partially true- he did offer to take you in, perhaps not as eagerly or altruistically as he proposed, but you didn’t need to nor were ever going to know that. “This came with the caveat that you were to be taught to be a proper member of not only kindred society but the greater general society. Your compliance with this will be what determines whether you live or not.” The last part was actually somewhat sincere, not out of concern for you per se, but rather in concern for his own reputation as well as pressing the serious nature of the situation.

This was all very concerning and confusing. Seeing as it was such, you fell back onto sarcasm. “I thought you said I had already died.” It was a genuine question masked to hide your nerves. It seemed that this wasn’t taken too well, as there was a nod of some kind to the sheriff and you were suddenly being carried back towards the part of the penthouse that you had woken up in. While you were being walked away, LaCroix informed you, “This is the sort of obstinate attitude that you must be broken of. You will spend the rest of the evening in your room. For your own sake, you had better be more civil when you leave it.” It seemed that the sheriff walked slowly enough that he could be sure that you heard everything that LaCroix had to say.

You went back to the room kicking and screaming. LaCroix didn’t see this, but he could tell from the sounds of it. This was not going well. It wasn’t that he was not used to people fighting against him, but that he wasn’t used to having someone fight him this ardently and having nothing that he could really do about it. It wasn’t just that he couldn’t do anything, it was that he was actually supposed to be at least somewhat cordial with you. It would be exceedingly difficult to achieve that seeing as things went so awry tonight that he wasn’t even able to introduce himself. He needed to rethink his approach to this; it was expected that you might have had a difficult first night as everyone does, however, you were particularly volatile. If there was one thing that LaCroix could be thankful for it’s that you had already fed before you were captured and brought to him. He couldn’t begin to think of how you would be if you were fighting off the inner beast as well. All he needed to do right now, however, was to get through his usual work for the night, which would be more difficult than usual with you going on a warpath in the other room.

#sebastian lacroix x reader #lacroix x reader #vtmb imagines #vtmb au

[slow-burn-sally]

Haddotin 22 Giggly kiss!

eeeeee! Thank you friend!

Haddock wasn't sure the decision to let Tintin make breakfast was a wise one. The lad never cooks, usually leaving the fish frying and pasta boiling to Haddock, whilst Tintin supports their living situation by looking for more stories, haggling with the utility people, and sometimes going on cleaning whirlwinds through the ship, spray bottle and rag in hand, and a determined expression on his freckled face.

This morning however, Tintin's face, whilst still determined, is bent over a mixing bowl. Pancakes. He'd declared that he wanted to make pancakes, as Haddock never makes them (doesn't know how really) and Tintin swears he has the best recipe in the world.

He's already put the butter into the frying pan too early, burning it and necessitating that Haddock take the pan out onto the breezeway to wash it off. Now, the freshly cleaned frying pan sits on a cold stove, as Tintin mixes flour, two eggs, a cup of milk, a teaspoon of baking powder and a teaspoon of salt together in a large bowl with a wooden spoon. Haddock is almost certain you aren't supposed to stir pancake batter this thoroughly, but Tintin had snapped at him a bit irritably the last time he'd made a constructive comment, so now he just watches, hands on hips as Tintin struggles.

"You'll see, Captain!" Tintin says enthusiastically while continuing to stir the batter. "These will be the best pancakes you've ever tasted!" He gesticulates with the spoon and Haddock winces as a gigantic glob of pancake batter flies off the end of it and hits the galley wall with a splat.

Tintin shrugs and goes back to stirring. Haddock walks up beside him. Places a hand on Tintin's busily stirring shoulder. "Lad, if you stir that anymore, it'll evaporate."

"Look," Tintin turns to address Haddock, frowning at the unwanted advice. As he does so, obviously preparing to tell Haddock to mind his own business and let him cook, he slips. His heel must have caught on one of the many butter and batter smudges that litter the floor of the ship's small kitchen. He loses his balance and goes down, flailing with the batter spoon as he does.

Haddock gets a wet spoon to the face, and Tintin grabs his arm on the way down, pulling Haddock with him. They end up in a pancake batter splattered heap on the floor. Haddock bursts out in a raucous laugh, and after a moment of scowling up at his shipmate, Tintin can't help but start to giggle as well. He's got pancake batter on his nose, and still giggling, Haddock leans in and licks it off.

"Captain!" Tintin is pink in the face with giggles now. "You shouldn't eat that, it's got raw egg in it!"

"Let's face it lad, if I don't lick the batter off your face, I'll not get any of it. These pancakes are doomed never to see a frying pan."

Tintin, still laughing, opens his mouth to reply, but Haddock impulsively leans in, and silences Tintin's giggles with a kiss. He hadn't meant to do it. It's only that the lad looks so adorable with pancake batter in his short cropped hair, flushed and giggling. Happy. Haddock is a sucker for happy.

Tintin kisses him back, soft and sweet, and Haddock's heart soars.

"Perhaps we can go out for breakfast?" Tintin suggests when their lips part. He's gazing up at Haddock with stars in his eyes, and Haddock notices that he's made no effort to untangle their limbs.

"I'd like that," Haddock says, daring to lean in for a second kiss, which is received warmly. Tintin's hands are in his hair, and his eyes are shining like sapphires in the morning sunlight. "First though, lets get off the floor."

"Excellent idea, Captain!"

The pancake batter is eventually tossed in the trash.

#writing prompt #tintin #haddock #haddotin

[lettersnorth]

Prompt #26: Break a Leg

In the breathless moments after the gun had gone off, snarling and leaping in her hand like a wild thing, Aislinn wondered what it was like to be one of those people that believed violence was never the answer. That could trust that an equitable and reasoned solution to any situation could be found if one was patient and calm enough. It was a strange place for her mind to go in the tense moments before all hell broke loose but there it was. She’d like it if those people who spouted such platitudes had to come down and live a day in Ul’dah’s slums and then be forced to reevaluate that lofty sentiment. 

Because it sure was nice to say violence was never the answer. Until you were backed up against the proverbial and literal wall with a friend at your feet scream bloody murder, clutching his broken leg. 

She had gone in search of Kikirifi after his 5 minute smoke break had turned into 15. He said he’d wanted to get it out of the way before diving into the lengthy repair work they were facing on one of the cartel’s extractors. When U’Rahna had been alive she had always emphasized smoking outside the warehouse. Too many accidents waiting to happen when a lit flame met any number of the materials the cartel was handling. 

Aislinn had never taken to smoking but seeing as Sterling and Kikirifi both had, she was well acquainted with the dusty back alley that had long ago become the designated smoking spot for the crew. 

“Hey Kiki, how long…” She trailed off as she popped out into the sweltering alley, the thought dying on her tongue. 

Three men currently filled the narrow alleyway. Not just men. Hulking walls of muscle. So cookie-cutter and alike, anyone with any sense would have recognized enforcers when they saw them. These were the men more powerful people sent along to convey a message. Usually peppered with intimidating lines such as ‘do what we tell you or else.’ 

One of them had Kikirifi held up by the scruff of his neck, dangling in an undignified manner several fulms off the ground while a second had his leg in a vise-like grip. Aislinn didn’t understand the scene playing out before her at first. 

“I can pay. I can! I just need more time!” Kiki pleaded, a terrified pitch to his voice as he flailed.

“Not good enough.” The man ground out, twisting the leg he held until Aislinn heard the sickening crack of bone snapping with a heart-hammering jolt. 

What happened next, happened so fast. Kiki let out a blood-curdling scream of pain. Aislinn shouted, quickly drew the pistol at her hip and fired. Blindly. Though to be honest, the targets were large enough and close enough there wasn’t much aiming to be done. Even so, with her hand shaking so much her bullet merely grazed one man’s shoulder, leaving him uttering a sudden curse and clutching at the burn. 

Stark Oak had shown her how to fire the pistol and she’d spent plenty of time practicing down at the old train depot but she’d never fired at anything other than the depot’s weather-worn posts. In the shocked aftermath, one of the men was the first to move, barreling towards her with a yell. Her body jerked into action, half a beat too slow. She twisted the gun away from his seeking grasp but missed the follow up, the back of his fist that hit her hard enough across the face to send her sprawling to the ground. Ignoring the shrapnel of pain that exploded behind her eye, she moved to raise her weapon only to have his boot fall heavily on her wrist, grinding excruciatingly down on the bone.

He leaned down to pry the gun from her hand as she struggled like a fish on the end of a hook. “Lemme show you how to use this little toy, girly.”

One minute he was there. Then next he wasn’t. Shoved back flat on his arse by Stark Oak who’s sudden appearance was heralded only by the grunt of effort it took him to heave the bulky highlander back. But he hadn’t arrived alone. Snaking around him in the tight confines of the alley, rangy Cooper wielded a thick length of scrap wood he had surreptitiously found in the alley, bringing it down against the man’s head with a stomach-churning crack. Laid out like a sack of popotos, the man wasn’t getting up anytime soon. 

There was a pause in the brutal violence as the other two men remeasured the odds. 

Cooper took the moment to absorb the scene in the swift, assessing way a cartel leader should be able to; the sprawled out Aislinn, the whimpering Kikirifi cradling his broken leg, and then let out a low whistle. “They really send three of you to handle one deadbeat lalafell?” 

“Your friend’s run up a debt of over quarter of a mil of gil at the Jack.” One of the roegadyns growled. “Dijar’s sick of waiting for it. This is just a bit of business.” 

In the shelter provided by Stark Oak and Cooper’s solid forms, Aislinn slid back and slowly pulled herself up, gun still gripped tightly in her bruised hand as the pain radiated across her face. She shot Kikirifi a dark look. They all knew Kikirifi had a gambling problem. But the Jack of Spades was a notorious gambling hell run by the equally notorious Majar Dijar. What on earth would possess the lalafell to get in for a quarter of a mil to a man like that? 

“Breaking him so he can’t work ain’t gonna get him his money any quicker.” Cooper snorted, the broad scrap of wood now resting over one shoulder. 

“Problem out here?” As though summoned like the others by the sound of the gunshot, Sterling had appeared from out of the shadows of the warehouse’s interior, leaning against the weathered door frame with his icy gaze on the interlopers, hand resting idly on his belt of knives.   

Now that was four against two. Forcing the men, again, to reevaluate. 

“I’ve got a warehouse full of ‘em.” Cooper promised, seeing the flicker of hesitation in their faces and grabbing hold of it. “Grab your friend here and move out. Next time, you boys do your research before rolling up to handle business right in front of the Sehko’s house.” 

The two men shared a glance but decided taking Cooper’s offer was better than what would have followed, if he was telling the truth about standing on the Sehko cartel’s property.

And just like that, the violence was over almost a soon as it had began. No more than a punctuation in their day. 

When they were gone, Cooper let out a breath and tossed the scrap of wood off against the side of the building. “Thal’s balls, Kiki. The fuck you’ve gotten yourself in to Dajar for that much gil?” 

The lalafell could only whimper in reply. Cooper shook his sandy-colored head and eyed Sterling. “Go get the doc. Kiki here might as well be a dead man walking but he ain’t dead yet.” 

Sterling nodded and, after a swift glance at Aislinn, disappeared back into the shadows of the warehouse.

“Yer going to have to handle the extractor on yer own.” Stark Oak noted as he peered at the bruise beginning to blossom across Aislinn’s face.

“I gathered as much.” She said with a sigh.

#ffxivwrite2022 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv rp #prompt 26 #Break a leg

[spideyzgirl]

↳*falling for you* ༉‧₊˚✧

summary: you can’t seem to stay conscious long enough to talk to peter

warnings: fluff, some angst, a little dramatic

tom!peter x shy!reader

wc: 1.5k

taglist | masterlist

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

you weren’t sure what it was about peter parker that drove you crazy, but you knew your tremendous crush on him played a factor in it.

it was starting to become a problem though, as you found yourself fainting each time you saw him. it was like your brain went on airplane mode at the mere sight of him.

“i call it the peter parker phenomenon.” mj blurted, as she watched you try your best to keep from looking at peter, who was a few lockers down to your right.

you cocked your head at her, raising an eyebrow in question.

“you know, the way you just pass out when you see peter? that’s really embarrassing by the way, you should probably go see someone about that.”

“it’s not my fault. i can’t help it if he so cute, thoughtful, and sweet. i once saw him free a dog who got his head stuck in a bike rack, while other people just walked by.”

mj rolled her eyes and sighed as you went on with your rant.

“and he smells so good michelle. i once got close enough to him, and he kind of smells like cinnamon- or apple pie? one or the other. i can’t tell. all i know is that- what are you doing?”

mj had wrapped her arms around you, almost hugging you, in the middle of your rant.

“peters coming, i don’t want you to fall.”

“what!? mj let go, seriously! i have to go, right now.”

you pried at her hands and flailed like a fish out of water, but she surprisingly didn’t let up.

“too late, he’s here.”

you immediately stopped struggling as you locked eyes with him accidentally, and already felt yourself becoming lightheaded.

“hey guys, i was gonna ask you something but i feel like i’m interrupting… whatever this is.” he trailed off.

“oh please, go ahead and ask. we’re not doing anything, right y/n?”

the last thing you heard was peter muttering something as your body went limp, mimicking a rag doll. your head fell back onto mjs shoulder as she carried your weight.

“is she alright? she doesn’t look well.” peter pointed out.

“oh she’s just… acting! she’s in a drama class. she’s trying to see how many people she can fool into thinking she fainted. isn’t she so talented?”

peter gasped and poked at your eye gently, to see if you would move.

“woah, you’re really good y/n! she’s not even flinching.”

mj was starting to struggle holding your weight as she dragged your limp body while backing away from peter.

“yup, she’s going to broadway for sure. we’ll see you later okay?”

before he could respond, mj turned and dragged you down the hall towards the nurse.

the nurse let you go with a sip of water after you woke up. this wasn’t even your fifth visit to her, so she knew about your peter situation all too well.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

you were embarrassed about what happened, as you’ve never actually fainted in front of peter before. you didn’t want to show your face around him much anymore, he probably thought you were strange now.

as you were walking home from school, you decided to stop by delmars for something to eat.

you grabbed a few other snacks and walked back to the counter to pay, running into the one and only peter parker.

“oh, hey y/n. or should i say broadway star?”

you froze like a deer caught in headlights, and even dropped your gummy worms on the ground.

he picked them up and handed them to you. “these are my favorite kind. how’d you know?”

you couldn’t speak, you felt if you opened your mouth you would’ve thrown up on him. you desperately wished mj was there to save you again.

“i- um…” you felt yourself getting dizzy again, but you were determined on not falling out in front of him again.

you left your things on the counter and ran out the front door, with peter shouting after you. the way you acted around peter made you feel utterly ridiculous. crying felt like best option as you ran home, so you let hot, frustrated tears fall down your cheeks.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

the next day wasn’t much better as you found yourself hiding behind your locker door, avoiding peter like the plague.

“the peter parker phenomenon got a hold of you again, huh?” mj popped up randomly, making you jump.

“how’d you know? who told you?” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“the devil himself. he thinks you hate him, you know. he said you ran away from him or something.”

you gasped quietly. the one person who you were hopelessly falling in love with, thought you hated him.

“what? that’s ridiculous! it’s nothing like that, you know it.”

“i do, but he doesn’t. just tell him y/n. if you don’t, he’ll slip right through your fingers.”

“i would tell him, except i don’t want the rejection that follows,” you shrugged. “besides, how am i supposed to tell him when i can barely get a word out around him? i couldn’t even stay conscious long enough if i tried.”

mjs eyes shifted past you, landing on peter, who was hesitantly approaching you.

“well, here’s your chance now,” your eyes widen as you realized what she meant. “you got this y/n, just… don’t be yourself.” she gave you a tight smile followed by a thumbs up, and turned to leave you on your own.

you turned around slowly, being met with peters polite smile.

“y/n can i talk to you?”

you couldn’t find words, and decided to remove yourself from the situation. it was a tough decision, but if you couldn’t talk to him, then you shouldn’t be with him.

you stepped back, beginning to turn away from him but he stopped you, grabbing on to your wrist. you flinched at the sudden contact, feeling sparks run through your arm.

“please don’t run away from me again.”

you shook your head at him, as your voice came out quiet. “peter, i- i need to go before i-“

“it’ll be really quick i swear just- woah, are you okay?”

you fell against your locker, feeling yourself become lightheaded around him once again. he grabbed your shoulders straightening your stance and you grabbed onto his arms.

you were shocked with yourself. you spoke more than 3 words to him, and you were still kind of standing.

“i’m fine i’m just- i just got dizzy…”

“i have a water bottle in my bag. hold on…” he held onto you with one hand as he gave you his water.

you took it with a shaky hand, and sipped from it, feeling your dizziness start to subside. your heart was beating throughout this whole interaction with him. you never saw yourself in this situation, you didn’t know how you were still standing.

“do you feel better now?”

you nodded, avoiding eye contact with him as you realized how close you were to him, which didn’t help with your attempt to stabilize your breath.

“y/n, what’s going on with you? why did you run away from me yesterday? i’m worried about you.”

“you- you’re worried about me?”

“of course, i care about you. a lot actually. that’s what i wanted to talk to you about…”

he lifted your chin with his finger, forcing you to look into his eyes. he smiled when he could finally see them up close.

“y/n, i really like you. i think you’re amazing and smart and talented. i mean, i thought you actually fainted yesterday. that was amazing.”

you fought a smile, you never thought in your life you’d hear those words come from him. to say you were elated was an understatement.

“oh, i did…”

“wait, what? you actually fainted?” he frowned.

“yeah… i’ve never had the best luck trying to talk to you. i’d always get so nervous around you that i’d faint trying. that’s why i ran away from you last night.” you debated on telling him this, but you remembered what mj said, and you figured you should go for it.

“peter, i like you so much. like a lot. i’ve never felt so sure about wanting to be with someone in my life.” you confessed.

you weren’t sure where this newfound confidence came from, but you used it to the best of your ability.

“well, you’ll never have to be that nervous around me again, because i want you to be my girl. do you want that?”

“yes, i do. more than anything.” you answered almost instantly.

he chuckled at your eagerness and slowly leaned in to kiss you, but mj suddenly popped up, sighing loudly.

“finally! i’ll never have to drag your heavy ass down a hallway again. although, i won’t complain. have you seen my biceps lately? i should be thanking you y/n.”

you giggled at your friend and hugged peter, you were proud of yourself for finally being able to do so.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

taglist 🏷

@niallhoransupremacy @raajali3 @crazyknight @evermoresilk @hqllandxx @popeheywardssecretgf

#mcu fanfiction #mcu!peter parker #mcu!peter x reader #mcu!spiderman x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #tom!peter x reader #tom!spiderman #tom!peter parker

[sunkendreams]

Could I request a oneshot of bo x reader where reader and him have been fighting and they leave for a couple hours but bo’s been freaking out so they make up and just get all fluffy at the end

┊ 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭.

┊ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒) ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐛𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐱 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐛!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

┊ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞.

┊ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝟒,𝟒𝟒𝟖.

┊ 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⠀ཾ༵࿇ ˼ — 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐨, 𝐬𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡! 𝐢𝐟 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐰/𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭! 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤!

Crickets chirped within the dead of night, a hot draft rustling the fading curtains. It was arcadian, the only sounds being that of nature, perhaps a swaying tree. Maybe Ambrose was growing on you for that very reason — the quiet. It was a derelict town of only three individuals, and now four after you’d been plucked off of the hiking trails in the nearby woodlands. As dusk fell, you’d drag your heap of blankets toward the cracked window, angled enough to see the skies above, speckled with stars on a clear horizon.

You’d been kept in the house for nearly four weeks, and contrary to the slew of frightening films, there wasn’t any torture. It was no paradise, but you were being fed and sheltered, allowed to clean up. That was the most important part, wasn it? You struggled to acclimate to your situation initially, but accepting it was much easier than going against the current. You’d gotten lost in the Louisiana forests — whenever you said it in your head, it sounded rather foolish.

A guileless girl, locked within a house of murderers. You despised the fact that it didn’t tear you apart as you thought it would, but they were all decent enough. You rarely saw Vincent, and you saw Lester even less, one confined to their subterranean workshop, and the other out hauling roadkill amongst the forests. Your captor was the one you saw most often, a mechanic named Bo. He was jarring at first, intimidating and callous, but the more you stayed, the less he wanted to kill you.

Bo thought about it plenty within the first week, contemplating the many ways to get rid of you and your pretty eyes. A knife to the throat was quick and easy, but messy and crude. Hitting you over the head with a blunt object wasn’t guaranteed to work the first time, and you might be flailing like a fish if he did. Vincent shrewdly suggested the chair, but Bo didn’t want you as some wax figure, he realized. He wanted you alive, wanted you breathing.

He was avoidant within the first week, intentionally keeping his distance. Bo forced Vincent to feed you instead, and with his twin being the more compassionate of the pair, he did as instructed. It only lasted less than a week before Bo took over somewhere at the start of the second, and it began a downward spiral of immediate regret for one very particular reason:

Attachment.

Every other girl would scream and wail like a banshee, pound against the locked door until they ran their knuckles bloody, make some racket all night long until Bo was sick and tired of it. Instead, you behaved as if you were a guest — in some macabre way, you were, but Bo had difficulty comprehending your demeanor. You spoke to him, you were thankful, and you rolled right back over to sleep. It was somewhere last week where he finalized his decision not to kill you, and to keep you around, instead. Maybe you would make a good friend for Lester.

Bo wasn’t the sort of man to form bonds so easily, and with you, he was almost actively pushing against it. You were exuberant, unnaturally gentle and for whatever reason, you were forgiving. Sometimes, your prodding for information was slightly bellicose, agitating Bo, but you had good intentions. Vincent said that you were compassionate toward him, even with that garish, waxy mask he wore around, which eased over Bo’s initial skepticism about you.

If you were sweet toward his brothers, you were decent in his book. Additionally, you were sweet toward Bo, too. He might’ve been obtuse and rugged around the edges, but he was never vehement towards you — yet, of course. You hoped you could keep on your path of befriending him.

Five days ago, through a mutual agreement with Vincent, Bo decided to let you out. You were rightfully suspicious, almost believing it to be some trap, but nothing happened to you. No longer shacked underneath lock and key, you were free to roam about the house, save for the basement — that was specifically off-limits, only accessible if Vincent was willing to let you see, and that was unlikely. Bo also set boundaries within the House of Wax, explicitly telling you to look and not touch or go snooping around.

Truthfully, it was Bo’s mistake in attempting to set ground rules with you, an inquisitive woman who was rather curious when it came to the trio of brothers. He should’ve known that you were unable to fully listen to him, because he’d caught you once already, peeking down into the basement, the door left unlatched and ajar. The second time, you were poking your head into his father’s old office, strike two. Bo figured that he’d give you three strikes before putting you back in your room, padlock and chains included.

That evening, you would violate strike three.

Unable to sleep, you were tossing and turning throughout the night, disheveled and tangled up within your blankets. It wasn’t insomnia, but loneliness. You were so accustomed to having roommates nearby, having some college party roaring away down the street, or music playing as it lulled you into slumber. Ambrose was eerily quiet for the most macabre reasons, but it didn’t stop you from missing a shred of the life you had before.

Untangling yourself from the thin sheets and linen blankets, you crept toward your unlocked door, clad in some massive shirt and socks. Hunger gnawed away at your stomach, which continued to produce a series of grumbles and gurgling noises as you wandered through the corridor. Bo’s room was latched shut as you passed by, meaning he must’ve been asleep. He typically lounged around downstairs — you assumed it must’ve been too late for him.

Each time you traipsed about the house, there was something new to notice — you happened upon a narrow drawer lodged against the wall, filled with old scraps of newspaper. ‘Trudy’s House of Wax: An American Marvel’, portions of them burnt or dilapidated. Gently pushing it closed, you inched down the staircase, arms loosely draped around yourself, the light fixtures impossibly dim. The living room was empty, the couch left abandoned save for a half-full beer bottle sitting near the foot of the sofa.

The kitchen was clean enough, washed dishes piled within the drying rack, white light flickering overhead. Opening up the refrigerator, your immediate drink of choice happened to be the large pitcher of sweet tea, which Vincent had served you several times before. Pouring yourself a glass, you tiptoed around, attempting to preserve the silence. Sinking into one of the plush chairs in the living room, you surveyed your surroundings, gaze fixated upon many of the fixtures and trinkets that lined the wooden mantelpiece above the fireplace.

Vincent’s art often hung wherever you went, paintings immortalized within the Sinclair homestead and the House of Wax, supposedly. There were barely any traces of Bo, let alone Lester. Vincent had alluded to some troubled family history when you asked him, but you were never offered any answers — not willingly, not by anybody. Whereas much of Vincent remained, he seemed to be the only brother who shared in the love of his parents. It made you a touch melancholy, the more you began to theorize.

After your sweet tea was washed down in several gulps, you didn’t find yourself exhausted yet. In fact, the spurt of glucose kept you more alert than ever, much to your dismay. Wriggling off of the chair, you stepped toward the hearth, examining the many antiques and items that lined the shelf above, some caked in thick layers of dust or stuck together with cobwebs. Behind an old clock and oil lamp, you fished out a stack of crusty photographs, lazily bound together by a paperclip. If someone wanted to obscure the pictures, they did a poor job of it.

The very first photograph was of Vincent and Bo in their youth, Vincent smiling despite the patch of waxy mask that obscured the right half of his face. Bo appeared to be upset, face etched with a prominent frown, even as a little boy. Whereas Bo’s hands were tucked out of frame, you could see Vincent’s, perched up underneath his chin. Shuffling through, you found another picture, both boys together in the summertime — Bo was wearing longer sleeves, Vincent wasn’t. The third picture you came across was Bo in his teenage years, face partially turned away to avoid being photographed.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy, brows furrowing together as you perused through each photograph. Bo never seemed happy in any of them, and the only time he did was standing next to a beat-up car. Turning the picture over, you observed the elegant script upon the back, ‘Bo’s First Car - 1987’. Lifting the photo just a little closer, you saw the angry red marks around each wrist, but not in enough detail. You wondered what happened, your heart beginning to sink as you assumed the worst.

Clutching onto the bundle of photographs, your attention flickered from the hearth to the set of drawers on your left, the lock broken off of the middle drawer. Fascination got the better of you, and with a hasty glance over your shoulder, you opened it up, finding a heaping pile of torn newspaper articles and more pictures. The article clippings resembled those found upstairs, didactic pieces with recounts of the House of Wax and Dr. Sinclair’s series of medical mishaps. You continued to dig, gingerly nudging past stacks upon stacks of newspaper until you came across unfamiliar photographs, several in black and white.

Gracing your fingertips across a very peculiar photograph, you held it toward the lamplight, lips parting as a softer gasp escaped you. Two babies, joined together by the head — conjoined twins. Both Vincent and Bo’s names were scribbled upon the back of the picture, the handwriting far more messy than the eloquent script you saw prior.

It explained the newspaper article you saw whilst rifling through about a medical procedure of separating twin boys, and the one whose face was mottled was Vincent, clearly. As intriguing as it was, the pictures you saw all evoked sympathetic notions, more discontent than anger or discomfort.

Sweeping your tresses behind one ear, you held onto the picture of a teenage Bo, neatly organizing the rest of the photographs into one stack. You were meticulous, overly cautious when handling them to ensure no harm or any lasting damage. They were pieces of the puzzle when it came to the Sinclairs, and you couldn’t help but pity them. Any anger you might’ve held onto was sacrificed then and there, lost to a void of your own empathy.

“What are you doin’?”

Bo’s voice violently ripped you from your thoughts, his tone laced with something dangerous. The taller man lingered at the base of the stairs, disheveled from sleep, but alert enough to see you handling those photographs. His countenance contorted into one of seething fury — he was far more furious now than ever before. You continued to pry, and for some reason, it pissed Bo off more than it had the previous times.

“Bo, I …” The breath was stolen from your lungs, goosebumps breaking out all along your spine. His glower was dark, wrought with anguish and an unrestrained frustration. You were akin to some startled rabbit, ensnared within the hunter’s trap. Bo had you in his sights. “I—I’m sorry, I was just—”

He intercepted you with a voice like the crack of a whip, lip curling with some minatory edge. “What did I tell you ‘bout gettin’ into my shit?” Bo was wildly unhappy, but it wasn’t all directed at you. He watched you cradle that photograph of him and his first car, and he happened to snap. It was that downward spiral he’d thought about each night since he started interacting with you, this whirlpool of emotion he’d fought so hard to suppress. There was a terror in your face, but rage raced ahead of anything coherent, even his own regret.

Opening your mouth, the words coagulated within the back of your throat, ceasing to emerge. You were paralyzed, hands beginning to tremor as you lowered the photographs. As Bo stomped toward you, you almost thought he was going to hit you, causing you to recoil and cower backwards, hitting your head upon the mantelpiece’s edge. Instead, Bo viciously ripped it all out of your grasp, callously throwing it onto the floor, away from the both of you.

“You fuckin’ stay out of this! Quit tryin’ to pry!” Bo’s temper was calamitous, akin to that of a lightning strike. It was unpredictable and volatile, his tone laced with some level of venom. It startled you more than it frightened you, but it did make you visibly upset. You hated being yelled at like this, but perhaps this was the price you paid for your invasiveness.

Involuntarily, tears began to form within your eyes, swimming until they spilled against your cheeks. “Bo, I’m sorry,” You pleaded, stammering and tremulous, hands rattling like leaves. “I—I didn’t mean anything by it, I just …” What did you say? Everything that came out of your mouth sounded like some dull excuse for being too nosy. Sniffling, you shook your head, attempting to come up with something valid, something he might’ve understood. “I just wanted to understand you.” This was true and not some half-baked lie to try and save your own skin. You were beyond desperate when it came to wanting to know Bo.

Bo was stupefied, nostrils flaring as he glared at you with some hostile notion. This was unheard of, and once again, your behavior never ceased to surprise him. Even then, it didn’t excuse your probing behavior, but it caught him in his tracks. It was growing increasingly difficult to stay angry with you, but he was boiling. “You don’t need to understand anything,” He snapped, and the next string of words were almost too cruel. “Last thing I need is some nosy bitch runnin’ around my house.” The look in your eyes nearly crushed him.

You were the farthest thing from a bitch, in Bo’s eyes. It was a slip of the tongue, nefariously harsh and unyieldingly poisonous. There was an instantaneous contrition, countenance morphing from fury to frustration, frustration to shame. It was demoralizing to watch you shrink, wilting like a dying flower underneath the searing sun. You were quick to skitter past him, dashing away toward the stairs. Bo barely had time to turn around before you disappeared altogether, signaled by the slam of a door.

Left alone in the parlor, Bo grit his teeth together, head hung in defeat. It was hard to be angry, even harder to stay away from you. After what happened to him throughout his youth, forming attachments had become so incredibly difficult. There was always this nagging feeling of inferiority when compared to Vincent, coupled with his tempestuous temper and swaying of emotions. Bo wished he could be better, and he tried, but his past was a sore subject — having somebody try to pry their way in, no matter how gently, was something that terrified him.

He owed you an apology — twenty apologies, more like it. That shattered, wounded expression you bore before you fled from him would be seared into his head for days to come, knowing that he was the cause of it all. Hastily picking up the half-consumed bottle off of the floor, he smashed it into the unlit hearth, glass shards and watered-down alcohol flying every which way. Running his palm across his face in exasperation, he knew he needed to compose himself before going up to apologize.

Photographs were scattered across the floor, strewn in every direction. Bo went about picking them up, each memory sparking a string of recollection — lamenting, even. The picture that you’d held onto, the one of him with his car, was enough to make his brow furrow, desperately blinking away the tears. There was never any normalcy when it came to his childhood, a very unfortunate fate indeed. It wasn’t just his, but Vincent’s and Lester’s weren’t as picturesque as it could’ve been. They were never a happy family.

With a tightened jaw, Bo, scrounged up the pictures, neatly collecting them into a stack before tossing them back into the drawer. You likely wouldn’t want to hear his apology after what he’d said to you, but it was necessary. Curiosity shouldn’t have gotten you skewered or insulted like that, and Bo was riddled with bitterness and agitation, all directed inward. Peering toward the staircase, he opted to wait a little while longer, allowing you to simmer down, or wait until morning to talk to you about it.

—————

You couldn’t sleep, no matter how hard you tried. Forcing yourself never worked, and shutting your eyes only left you feeling hopeless. You shouldn’t have gone through Bo’s things, you knew this — you needed to apologize. Loneliness accompanied by the throbbing from where you hit your head only kept you wide awake as hours ticked by throughout the night. Sitting upright, you hauled yourself up, arms folded as they rested against the windowsill. You hadn’t heard Bo’s footsteps throughout your state of restlessness, not until he was at your door.

With a gentle thud of knuckles against the wooden surface, Bo stood just outside, prepared to come out with the unsavory truth. If he was going to keep you, he realized that maybe you needed to know for your own good. It tore him up inside to hurt you, and Bo was desperate for you to not see him as some kind of monster, if you didn’t already.

“Hey,” His voice had dropped to a husky lull as he prodded at the doorknob. “You awake?” Bo almost thought you wouldn’t be — you more than likely fell asleep, and he’d have to wait until dawn to apologize to you. There was a wall of silence, and just before he could turn away, there were noises from inside your room.

Gently prying the door open, you stood there with a red-blotched visage and bloodshot eyes, but yet you smiled, even if it happened to be barebones. Bo’s breath hitched slightly as he glowered down at you, hands perched against his hips. His body language screamed apologetic, which was comforting to you, but you felt equally as guilty for setting him off in the way that you did. “Hi.” You croaked, lifting your hand to rub at your bleary eyes. “I wanted to ap—”

“No.” Bo’s interjection was immediate, not allowing you to get another peep in. “It ain’t your fault, sweetheart.” Oh, his nickname made you shiver, absolutely desperate for him to say it again. It ignited your pit of loneliness, reminded you just how wistful you were for any shred of affection. “Shouldn’t have yelled, shouldn’t have said those things. I was real nasty,” He hesitated, teeth skimming across his lower lip. “I was an asshole.”

The compassionate look you maintained drove him crazy. He wished you’d retaliate or slap him, tell him how horrible he was for putting you down, but you didn’t. Instead, you fluttered those thick eyelashes, ogled him with those gorgeous eyes of yours, and maintained your thin-lipped smile.

The situation was made arguably more worse by your immodest choice of fashion, the oversized shirt and lack of coverage on your legs. Bo was no pious man, and he’d thought about you more times than he cared to admit, but that wasn’t for here, not now.

“It’s okay,” You breathed, softly clearing your throat. “I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to pry as much as I did.” Bo dismissed your apology with a shake of his head, knowing fully well that none of this had to do with you — it was his own insecurities that led the both of you to this point.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for.” Bo cleared his throat, hesitating for a fraction of a second. “I’ll tell you ‘bout me sometime, yeah? Owe you that much.” It would take a little bit to work up to, but you exuded safety — you were a sanctuary, a harbor along a stormy coast. Bo felt like he could trust you despite your inquisitive nature.

“Okay.” With an eager nod, your smile fluctuated, becoming a little bit brighter. “I guess you couldn’t sleep either?” You prompted, assuming it to be around three in the morning, or something like that. Rocking back and forth upon the balls of your feet, you kept your hand perched upon the edge of the door.

With a softer hum, Bo shrugged his shoulders. “Couldn’t sleep knowin’ that I hurt you like that.” His gaze fluttered toward you, momentarily meeting your stare. He was the one ensnared this time, succumbing to your pretty eyes and dimpled smile, fingers flexing against his hip as he fought back an onslaught of vulgar thoughts. “You?”

“It’s difficult for me to sleep nowadays.” You admitted, tucking a bit of hair behind one ear. It wasn’t necessarily because of the location or even your situation, but the lack of people, the lack of companionship. You hated how childish it sounded. “I had roommates. I suppose I miss having somebody around.”

Bo’s immediate thought was to let you sleep with him, let you snuggle against his chest and have that presence to drift away with. Absentmindedly, his tongue briefly swept across his lower lip, his mind reduced to a myriad of scatterbrained fantasies. He contemplated what to do. The normal, right path was to express his sympathies and try to make you comfortable, and leave it at that.

A sliver of him was begging to let you in, let you stay. It didn’t have to be forever, not even several nights. Just for tonight, and it would be over with — you could get one night of decent rest. Bo was trying to rationalize on what to do, his desire for company beginning to overpower everything else. He was like you in that regard, someone desperately yearning for affection, though he happened to be far more subtle about it.

“Could let you stay with me, if it’ll help.”

Delighting in your bashful stare, Bo knew he’d caught you then and there. Your visage flourished with the warmth of scarlet, lips pulling apart as a simple huff of air escaped you. He was torn into two, hoping you would say yes, and simultaneously hoping you’d turn him down. The salacious side of him happened to be winning, and he had to smother his smirk when you ducked your head.

“Are you sure?” It was an unexpected proposal, but you were starved for contact — maybe it would do you good, help you sleep. “I don’t want to bother you or anything.” You hoped that he wasn’t just doing this as a way of apologizing, but it didn’t seem that way.

“Real sure. You aren’t botherin’ me one bit.” Bo crooned, jerking his head back in the direction of his room, just down the hallway. “Come on.” As Bo made for his bedroom, you trailed along beside him like a puppy, heart hammering within your chest. There was something deeply thrilling about this, but intimidating at the same time.

Bo’s room was somewhat unkept, but it was very much lived-in. His massive wardrobe was halfway shut, clothes strewn across opened drawers, bed tidy with clean blankets and sheets. The small bathroom off to the right was unnaturally sparkling compared to the rest of his room, not that you minded. It had a slightly smoky scent, intermingled with his familiar cologne and sandalwood. He closed the door behind the both of you, tossing his jacket onto a chair.

You were awkwardly silent, watching him kick off his boots as he sank down onto his bed with a soft groan. It almost felt more intrusive than prying through photographs, but he invited you, didn’t he? This was his idea. Instead of following him, you stood a few feet away, as if you were frozen in place. Bo kicked one leg up, canting his head to one side when he realized you were in the same place.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. I don’t bite.” Bo lodged one arm underneath his head, the other splayed out across the pillow. You were endearingly sheepish about this whole thing, so much to where Bo found it attractive. He was beginning to wonder if you’ve never done this before, which might’ve been a reasonable explanation for your stupefied look.

Goosebumps collected themselves atop your spine, a shudder racking your body. Finally, you forced yourself to shuffle forward, crawling onto the bed as you laid beside him, feeling his hand rest against your back. There was some semblance of relief as you reveled in the warmth and contact, immediately snuggling up against Bo, head nestled atop his chest.

Bo didn’t touch you very much, merely keeping one arm loosely wrapped around you, fingers barely grazing the small of your back. “Atta girl.” He murmured, feeling you cling to him as you wriggled around to get comfortable. Admittedly, he was thoroughly enjoying this — you were just as beautiful as you were adorable, and he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Thank you, Bo.” Your gratitude was palpable as you closed your eyes, feeling his digits languidly dance across the base of your spine, and you fought hard to suppress your shudder. Exhaustion hit you like a brick, and with Bo there, sleep seemed immediate.

He watched your eyes flutter, hawkishly observing the way you relaxed and careened into his side. Bo was getting possessive — it happened within a split second, and he knew there was no going back from this moment. Your pretty face had become slack, breathing shallow and evening out as you drifted off into a deep slumber.

Bo grit his teeth together, chest tightening as his hand moved upward, a singular digit ghosting across the soft curve of your jaw. It was the one thing he was terrified of — attachment. He told himself he wouldn’t, and he’d fought and fought, but this was his final battle, his resting place. From the moment you involuntarily curled your hand into his shirt, he was set on keeping you — set on never letting anyone else have you.

As much as he believed he would ruin you, he found himself thinking the opposite — you would ruin him.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair fanfic #house of wax #house of wax fanfic #slasher fanfiction #house of wax 2005 #slasher fanfic #sunkendreams masterlist

[samstree]

for the cliche tropes, 27. Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second with geraskier, if you please <3

Thank you for the prompt! 🌼 Sorry it’s quite late but please enjoy this tiny piece of pining on this fine Friday.

(1.3k, geraskier, slow dancing, drunk jaskier, protective geralt, no warnings.)

“Oh, Geralt! Fancy seeing you here!” Jaskier exclaims, as if they didn’t come to the banquet together.

The bard reaches Geralt’s table and sweeps away his ale in one swift motion before chugging it all down. When he finally puts down the tankard, Geralt finds himself the recipient of the bard’s most charming and yet most performative smile.

Jaskier is nervous.

“Phew!” His hands flail dramatically. “Fine evening, isn’t it?”

Geralt hums, waiting for the catch.

“Let’s dance!”

Without getting a reply, Jaskier is already dragging Geralt up from his seat. With all the wine and ale in his system, Jaskier’s hold is not strong enough to manhandle a bulky witcher, but they end up at the edge of the dance floor anyway.

Jaskier’s warm palms rest flush against Geralt’s waist, and their faces are only a hand’s breadth away. Geralt can feel the heat on the bard’s flushed cheeks and hear the pounding of his heart in the din of the room. They sway to the gentle music.

It’s…close, too close. Geralt needs a distraction.

“What’s the catch, Jask?”

The bard scoffs, almost offended. “Do I require a reason to dance with you? Or am I not allowed to just enjoy quality time with my favorite witcher?”

Geralt simply lifts an eyebrow.

“All right. You are too smart for your own good.” Jaskier chews on his lips, again, nervously. “There is this one gentleman, who may have been too eager for my…company, despite my explaining of the situation.”

“Which is?”

“That I’m in love and thus unavailable?” Jaskier says as if it’s obvious. Geralt frowns with worry.

“Still?” the witcher asks quizzically. “Valdo left nearly a year ago, Jaskier. It isn’t healthy.”

That is the wrong thing to say because Jaskier flinches at the name. Hurt flashes across those cornflower blue eyes, and Jaskier looks too dejected, too similar to how Geralt found him at his worst, in pain and alone and roaring drunk. He never wants to see Jaskier like that again.

“Well, no matter,” Jaskier chuckles tightly. “It’s not like the guy took the hint and left me alone, so I had to improvise. Now, before you give me another lecture or something, you need to know that I had no choice but to—”

“What did you do?” Geralt lets the music and the crowd lead the two of them around the dance floor, careful not to bump into another couple.

The bard regains his balance, looking contrite.

“I may have implied that, um, the person I’m in love with is here tonight.” He pauses before continuing reluctantly. “Or I may have said plainly that he is…a certain witcher.”

“Jaskier…”

“I know. I know! But he was relentless and I couldn’t get away!” he pleads.

“Hmm.”

Geralt’s hands tighten on Jaskier’s shoulders protectively. The bard is too drunk to even keep up with the dance, let alone fight off some unwanted pursuer. In truth, he’s only relieved that he is here with Jaskier, even though the lie is hitting a bit too close to home.

Holding Jaskier like this, swaying with him gently, is once again reminding Geralt of what he isn’t allowed to dream. He no longer dares these days. Not when he’s the one pushing Jaskier away time and time again, not when he’s the one who let Jaskier slip through his fingers and end up with Valdo, not when he’s the one who inadvertently caused Jaskier’s broken heart.

“Oh fuck.” Jaskier hisses, his body tensing. “He’s coming towards us. Okay, act natural! Wait, what is natural if we were together? Oh…um… Just roll with me, will you?”

Before Geralt can reply, Jaskier’s mouth is on his. The kiss is as chaste as it can be—Jaskier is only pecking at his lips gently, never pushing in. Geralt only remembers to close his eyes after a moment, and forces himself to respond as such. To keep up the front, he tells himself, lest the guy is watching.

And he is. Deliberate footsteps are circling the dance floor, not far from them. Geralt concentrate on identifying the man’s heartbeat and his movement—

Jaskier sucks on his lower lip once, twice, before letting go. He buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck, his body still taut like a statue.

“Is he gone?”

Warm breaths ghost over the skin of Geralt’s neck and he struggles to open his eyes. The man is not gone. In fact, he’s observing them intently, just shy of stepping into the dance floor himself. Through the moving crowd, Geralt can make out his golden hair and slim shoulders, almost a spitting image of one Valdo Marx, only a little taller.

Geralt hates this man immediately.

Perhaps it’s those too piercing eyes, or the way his presence is making Jaskier nervous like this, or just the look of him. Geralt narrows his eyes dangerously.

“He is not,” Geralt says into Jaskier’s ear, mimicking a lover’s murmur, all the while not breaking eye contact. He’s heard so many times how his yellow eyes are monstrous, and Geralt is thankful for once. It takes some balls to not cower under a witcher’s glare, one that projects predator from afar. This one crumbles within seconds.

With a triumphant smirk, Geralt moves one hand up to cup the nape of Jaskier’s neck, the other one still pressed between his shoulder blades. He’s laying claim. Hopefully, the light can catch a glint of his fangs, but either way, the man is soon running off, tail between his legs.

“Now he’s gone,” Geralt’s voice comes out deeper and rougher. He clears his throat. “Should be out of the gate by this point.”

They are standing impossibly close. The anxious rise and fall of Jaskier’s chest slow to normal and they separate. Geralt misses the contact. He now has a harder time keeping Jaskier steady on his feet. Yes, that’s the sole reason to miss holding Jaskier.

“I—” Jaskier’s gaze is still fixed somewhere far away behind Geralt’s shoulder, oblivious of how reluctantly the witcher is retracting his hands. “Sorry I did that.”

“Hmm. It worked.”

The bard lets out a dry laugh. “Thank the fuck you are here. I wouldn’t have known what to do.”

“You can take care of yourself.”

Geralt only has one hand at Jaskier’s elbow, holding onto him with a featherlight touch. The music has come to an end and the quiet intimacy dissipates.

“Can I?” Jaskier says half-mockingly. “One look at that guy and I could barely breathe, Geralt, and he doesn’t even look that much like Val—him.”

Jaskier bites his lips in contrite, his eyes dimmed. Geralt dips his head to meet Jaskier’s gaze, the ocean blue so lost.

“Hey. I’ll be here if you need me,” he adds way too quickly, almost spluttering. “—to get rid of unwanted attention, that is.”

Jaskier doesn’t seem to notice the awkwardness. Instead, a soft smile stretches across his face. Wordlessly, the bard leans forward to place a small kiss on Geralt’s cheek.

Geralt has to hide the gasp, his eyes wide. He doesn’t know why he’s more affected this time. Is it because it’s real? A voice at the back of his head asks. The last time—even with Jaskier’s lips all over him—was only a show, but this one is full of Jaskier’s heart.

“You are sweet.” Jaskier wipes at the spot with a thumb. “What would I do without you, my friend?”

“Hmm.”

Friend. It’s one little word that Geralt has rejected time and time again, and just when he begins to want for more, he finds himself trapped in the very same word. The irony would be laughable if Geralt is not missing the warmth of Jaskier against him so much.

How the turntables.

Geralt lets Jaskier retreat into the crowd, and if he turns to smell the lingering scent of Jaskier on his shoulder, nobody needs to know.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #geralt x jaskier #slow dancing #pre-relationship #protective geralt #pining geralt #friendzoned geralt #post-breakup jaskier #sad jaskier #drunk jaskier #the ex is valdo #I know I’ve been using Valdo a lot lately #what can i say #he's a blank slate in canon

[hoe4hotchner]

So I had this thought earlier and I wanted to share it with you:

Puppy!reader is totally confused by a hygienic routine in the morning and evening. Like, she grew up buck wild and cleaning was not the main priority in every situation she was in before Hotch adopted her.

So it's sometime during her first week with Spencer and Hotch, and one afternoon Hotch calls both hybrids into the bathroom and Spencer (already knowing what's gonna happen) dashes into the bathroom, ready for his bath.

Puppy on the other hand hesitates before even entering the bathroom. Hotch thinks letting her observe the routine is going to pit her mind at ease and beckons Spencer first into the already filled (to the end of his paws/beginning of his ankles) bathtub. Happily he splashes around. Puppy startes sniffling as Hotch takes the shower head to get his whole body wet. In this moment Puppy thinks Hotch is going to hurt Spencer, to whom she already feels a deep connection, and tries to make him stop, until she sees that Spencer's tail is happily wagging.

Wearily she sits much closer to her owner and watches his very move intently. When everything is done, Spencer is allowed to hop out again and he gets the zoomies. So while he is running around, Hotch tells her to get into the bathtub. And he does the same routine as with Spencer, but it much more gentle and trying to not overwhelm her with all the new sensations. In the end, Hotch has two clean puppies running wild in his apartments 😅

(Also, what abt brushing their hair and teeth? Bc I feel like Spencer doesn't like his teeth brushed while puppy is super "picky" abt getting her hair brushed)

-🐶

Puppy is standing in the frame of the door, watching as Spence has already jumped into the tub. Her ears lay flat against her head as she looks at the boys with wide and frightened eyes.

Hotch somehow manages to coax her inside, just enough to close the door so she couldn't run away and hide because eventually, she would have to get in the bath whether she liked it or not.

The tub is slowly starting to fill up with warm soapy water as Hotch rinses Spencer from the shampoo and gel he had washed him in, making sure to get all the dirt off of his skin.

She pushes her nose against Aaron's arm with a whimper and a sniffle, not really understanding what he's doing. Meanwhile, Spencer yips for her to get in as well, but she doesn't.

"Look he's happy." Hotch points out, gently giving her a hearty pat on the side in an attempt to soothe the girl. Puppy presses herself against his side, her eyes are still teary still not fully comprehending what is going on.

Hotch is quick to dry Spencer off and let him out, she's keen on leaving too, but he quickly traps her again, his body towering over her.

It takes a lot of coaxing, but eventually, he manages to lift her into the tub. But not without a struggle. He lets her get used to the temperature before lathering her in soap and cleaning her. Puppy likes how his fingers massage her scalp and the feel of the shampoo being washed out.

Once dry, Aaron lets her out of the bathroom as he searches for the combs and brushes that he uses on Spencer's mop of hair. Spencer is not particularly a fan of being brushed, but he has gotten used to it over time.

Puppy, on the other hand, has so many knots and tangles that it's a struggle to even push the brush through her locks. She's flailing around, whimpering, crying even as she tries to get away from the thing that is hurting her.

Hotch is already prepared for this, having a massive bag of treats hidden behind his back as he keeps coaxing her with them. In the end, he manages to get almost everything brushed out, hoping that the knots in her tail would be easier as the bushy length was matted to the point where he feared he would have to shave parts of it off. Spencer's was a lot easier to keep up with, the short hairs didn't even need the brush.

And before bed, Hotch is careful as he calls Puppy over to brush her teeth, but she doesn't seem to mind, she kind of likes how the bristles tickle her canines and molars, while Spencer is being absolutely awful, biting down on the brush, sometimes not even wanting to open his mouth.

After that good experience for Puppy, he gets another round of hair brushing in with her, getting everything untangled that he possibly could before he would have to resort to the clippers in the morning.

#🐶 anon #hoe4hotchner answers #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #hotch #hotch thoughts #hotchner #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner asks #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #puppy!reid #puppy!reader #puppy spencer #spencer #puppy spence #pet!reader #pet play <3 #pet au #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotch x reader #hybrid!reader #hybrid #x reader #hotch x you #hotch x reader

[80s4life]

God Help Me*

Word Count: 2,306

Status: Not Requested!

Fandom: Orange Is The New Black

A/N: Just watched some more of oitnb and felt that Joe was an underrated character. So, here's something dirty for the dirty dog!

Relationship: Joe Caputo x Female Reader

Summary: (Based loosely on S3:E7 (”Tongue-Tied”) where the new recruits for security are supposed to be getting the 40 hours of training, but denied by the new employers. Specifically, when Bayley makes his mistake with the pepper spray incident, Caputo is outraged, in the need of a break. Luckily, you know how to ease his tension.

Warnings: language, age-gap pairing, against laws, forbidden, smut, retardation name calling (once, not me though, a line from the show!)

Taglist: @intersellars-the-networks-of-eve @snapessecretdiary

Masterlist Orange Is The New Black Masterlist

{gif is not mine, credits to @thompsonconnors}

"What the fuck was that?" Joe Caputo asks, confused and struggling to keep up with the messes every corner he turns. "You assess the situation and you respond with the appropriate level of force! And you never, ever, ever discharge your weapon unless it's absolutely necessary!" he continues, not done just yet. "And if you do, and that weapon happens to be pepper spray, you better damn well make sure you're upwind!"

Bayley, the new recruit, alongside Donaldson, a long-term member of this prison, look down, ashamed of themselves. Blinking their eyes every so often, the pain in their eyes searing with the combination of the regret in how they got in this position in the first place and the stinging pepper spray.

Motioning towards Bayley, Caputo continues with his mantra, "You are a trigger-happy knucklehead who just got out of diapers," now turning his attention to Donaldson, "But you, how could you let this happen?" he finishes, exasperated.

Donaldson, finding some courage, fires back, "Sir, with all due respect, I'm not a nanny." He may have screwed up, but he is not putting his life on the line for an idiot.

"No! You are an officer with 20 plus years' experience, and your job was to impart some wisdom on fucking Baby Huey over here!" Caputo spits, motioning towards Bayley once more.

"Well, this is what happens when you put untrained officers in gen pop," Donaldson says once more, although very quickly and almost fearfully. As if he were a child talking back to his parents.

"You don't think I know that? I fucking know that!" Caputo says once more, placing a hand over his head, letting out a tired sigh as he walks back behind his desk. "Bayley, I should be firing your ass," he motion towards the young man with two pointed fingers.

"I know," is all he manages meekly.

"But, it's your first day, so I'm gonna chalk this up to mental retardation. If you so much as look at an inmate wrong in the next week, you're out of here!" Caputo motions with a "whoosh." Now looking Bayley up and down in disbelief, he catches the small paper taped to his chest as well, "Take that stupid fucking name tag off."

As the men nod once more, he finishes with, "Now go! Get your asses down to medical and get an eyewash. And read the stupid fucking manuals!" he grunts, shaking the book in question and slamming it on his desk as the officers leave.

Throwing himself into his chair, he almost considers kicking and flailing around like a child in order to let off steam, but he is quickly denied the chance as you knock and burst through his office within a second.

“Sir.”

“What is it now?” he asks quietly, a hand holding his head up by his chin, fingers covering his now closed eyes.

“Well- uhm- well...” you continue, quite nervous as you don’t know where his hostility had come from, you being unsure whether it was your doing or not. It was uncharted waters you weren’t sure on stepping into or not.

“What. Is. It!?” he yells now, eyes wide open, hands clutching the ends of his armrests. Making you yelp and jump a bit, taking a few steps back into the doorway.

Seeing this reaction, he sighs once more, taking in your wide eyes and slightly tense posture, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s been a long day, okay?”

“I-I understand sir.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Joe, or Caputo if that’s what floats your boat?” he says, an attempt to coax you out of your startled state.

“I’m sorry s- Caputo. I only wanted to tell you that I bought ya’ something. A little gift, I guess.” you say, a blush tinting your cheeks.

“What? You didn’t have to get me anything!” He smiles now, relieving you, and bringing a smile to your own features at his now somewhat upbeat mood.

“Well, ya’ know...I remember you telling me about a band of yours, right?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he smirks, looking back at fond memories and the new ones with his new band.

“Well, since your style of music was rock, and I just so happened to be in the area of a new music store, I found some goodies there!” Pulling a seat in front of his desk, you grab the wrapped presents from the waistband of your belt, having hidden it behind your back in attempt to completely surprise him.

He smiles at your childish antics, lightly taking the wrapped good from your small, delicate hands. Unwrapping the smallest one, he finds a box underneath the covers. Opening it, his smile grows bigger as his eyes meet a black guitar pick, a skull etched into it and painted white. 

His eyes meet yours for a second, a fondness there, looking back down once more as he admires it. “I love it,” he says after a second.

“That’s not all!” you say, excited now as he already likes one of the things you’ve picked out for him, pulling out a medium-sized present next. You take this sudden change of attitude as a sign, wanting to hopefully ease the stresses the guards and staff have been taking, especially Joe.

Taking it from your hands once more, your hands make contact, the blush on your face intensifying a little more. Unwrapping the present, he finds a black bandanna, his band name printed onto it, matching the guitar pick. He giggles at this, tying it around his head for your view.

You laugh as well as you go to hand him the biggest and last of the presents, his eyes lighting up once he finds what it is. “Nu-uh! You didn’t! This must’ve cost a fortune!” he almost yells now, a genuine leather guitar strap in his grip as he jumps up from his seat.

“No, actually they gave me a little discount on it. It took a lot of searching to get the one you’ve been specifically looking for, but the guy said I was cute- anyway! I just thought you needed these since work has been beating your ass,” you say, smirking lightly.

“You didn’t need to do this,” he says, settling back into his seat as he grasps your hands lightly, still star-struck as he looks at the strap still in his hand.

The gesture was innocent, but as time goes on, you blush a deep red, him still not letting go of your hands. Noticing this, he goes to pull away, clearing his throat, standing, and straightening out his suit. There, you notice a slight tent in his pants, igniting a flame in your belly. 

“Well, thank you Miss Y/L/N, these were very nice...”

“Anytime...” you say slyly, dragging on your words as you stand as well, not bothering to fix your pants as it sticks tightly to your ass and thighs. 

He looks down, gulping as he takes in your curves he usually tries to ignore, clearing his throat once more as his eyes meet yours. Only now did he realize the close proximity between the two of you, you intending to lean in and fix his tie. As you do so, he grabs your hand, pulling it away, “Don’t tempt me. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Oh, I’m pretty damn sure I do,” you say as you pull him down to your height by the tie, pulling at the base of his neck, kissing him now. 

Breaking apart for a moment, you make your way around the desk, perching yourself atop it as you pull him between your legs, kissing him once more. Tongues fighting for dominance, you tease him, sucking on it, and nibbling on his lips. He growls, the tent now very evident in his pants, the tightness an annoying constriction.

He pulls away once more, going to lock his office door, having placed a ‘On a lunch break’ sign above his name. Making his way back over to you, his lips attach to yours once more, moving to remove your weaponry belt. You do the same, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt, moving to leave kisses, bites and hickeys. 

Continuing your attack, you move your hand to his belt, working quickly as he unbuttons your shirt, exposing your constricted, perky breasts. He grunts once more, adding to your eagerness as you finally get his belt out of the loops. Now both full of impatience, you unleash his cock, him doing the same for your breasts and pants. Completely removing everything from your being, leaving your half-unbuttoned shirt.

Not wasting time, he starts to work your clit, moisturizing ever bit of you as he collects it and moves his finger in all the most special parts, lubricating your core with ease. You grip his cock, teasing it as you run your finger along the slit at the top, precum already oozing. Looking him in the eyes, you notice his golden browns now a dark chocolate eyes, admiration sparkling them as he looks back at you. 

You moan as he enters a finger into your core, soon adding another as you loosen yourself for him. Finally, when he deems you ready, he reaches into one of the desk drawers, pulling out a condom. Motioning to him, he hands it over, letting you take over and do the honors. He simply places both arms on either side of your form, caging you in his embrace, smirking down at you.

Finally, once the condom was rolled onto his member, he goes to line himself up to your entrance, tip placed right at the beginning, not crossing the threshold just yet. “Are you sure?” is all he asks, wanting consent.

Knowing that this is wrong, you contemplate your options. You have already thought of the many ways he could take you, having been attracted to the older man for many years. Looking him in the eyes, you nod, “I’ve wanted this for too fucking long.”

With this new reassurance, he thrusts deeply, not giving you a chance to adjust just yet, pushing in and not stopping until he’s bottomed out. Taking a breath, you relish in the familiar sting of being stretched out, leaning back on your elbows for a minute. When you’re finally ready, you grab onto his shoulders, nodding once again. 

He starts slow, not wanting to hurt you, but, as you bite his pulse point, he jumps, taking the hint. Pounding into you mercilessly now, you moan and scream loudly, meeting his thrusts with the same momentum and speed, wanting this just as much as he does.

Instead, wanting to hold onto this feeling for as long as you can manage, you busy yourself with admiring and teasing the man before you. Specifically when he switches positions slightly, hitting your g-spot, your hands find their way into the tiny tufts of hair remaining on his balding scalp. Tugging lightly, he groans, pounding harder.

“Fuck!” you choke out, “I’m gonna cum! Joe! I’m gonna cum!”

“Just hold on a bit more, I’m almost there!”

Using his hands, he moves one to your clit, rubbing hard circles, intensifying the pleasure. You moan, the pleasure almost too much for you, settling for leaning your head on his chest. The chest hair tickles your nose, making you giggle between whimpers, kissing him there every so often.

With all your strength, you try to maintain your composure, the knot in your stomach begging for release. But, as you feel his dick twitch, the veins touching every inch of your walls deliciously, you couldn’t hold on any longer, milking his cock. With the sudden tightness and feeling of warmth bursting against him, he continues to thrust just a few seconds more, riding you through your orgasm as he meets his. 

As he slowly comes down from his high, he sighs peacefully, placing his head underneath yours and in the crevice of your neck. You kiss the top of his head as you take his weight, leaning back on your hands, one wrapped around his neck. After a moment, as he now goes soft within your being, he pulls out, disposing the condom.

Smiling, the two of you joke and throw clothes at each other as you get changed again. “So what are we now, Joe?”

“Well, it’d be fucked up to say nothing after mind-blowing-sex, now wouldn’t it?”

“I guess...So does that mean we’re together?”

“Do you want to? I would’a thought a young girl like you would want someone who can keep up with ya’?”

“I mean yeah...but they aren’t you, Joe. I want you,” you say honestly.

“Shit...” he mutters, smiling now, “This is the best thing that’s happened to me all day.”

“Is that a ‘yeah’?”

“Hell yeah it is!” he says happily, “Now how about round 2?”

“You’re on Old Man,” you say giggling, hopping into his lap on his desk, kissing him once more.

However your giggling and kisses get cut short with a knock on the door. You sigh, getting off of him not and making sure your clothes are straightened out.

“I guess not...” you say defeated.

“Well...Not right now,” Joe answers, going to the door, giving a sly wink as he opens it. 

Work is only temporary, you know this. You’ll get all the time you need with him tonight.

#joe caputo x reader #joe caputo imagine #joe caputo #oitnb #oitnb imagine #orange is the new black #orange is the new black imagine #alan aisenberg #bayley #nick sandow #nick sandow imagine #nick sandow x reader #donaldson

[animeomegas]

Hello! How have you been? Which of the Naruto boys are most likely to teach there pup to swim? I just feel like it would be wholesome and chaotic with some boys that have so many pups! Thank you

(Hello! I've been much better today actually, and I had an amazing day messing around around Camden with my brother! I hope you've also had a good day. I decided to do a tiny little overview of what happens when each of the boys try to teach their pup(s) to swim. Enjoy~)

...

Naruto:

Things get a little chaotic, ngl

His eldest son straight up refuses to get in the water unless Naruto is holding him, and therefore won't learn to swim at all.

His daughter is actually a normal child in this sense and spends a few minutes getting it down before practicing mostly on her own. She does constantly call for Naruto to look at what she's doing though because she wants him to be proud of her.

Naruto's twins take the whole experience as an opportunity to jump off high things into the water (even though they can't swim) and try to... play? drown each other? Unclear.

So, Naruto spends the whole time having to wrangle the twins while his eldest clings to him and his daughter shouts for him to watch her every five seconds.

No one ends up being great at swimming, but everyone ends up very wet and very exhausted...

Sasuke:

Sasuke is actually so good at teaching his daughter to swim.

Like, he's amazing at it.

He knows exactly when to push her boundaries slightly to encourage her to learn, but he also knows where the limit is and when to stop.

Him and his daughter speak in quiet tones as he instructs her to swim in the river, and there is no splashing.

Just calm, quiet, learning.

After his daughter is a little more confident, he uses her competitive nature to encourage her to improve.

He creates competitions and races for them both to do together.

Sasuke's daughter ends up as an amazing swimmer.

Shino:

Shino attempts about five times to get his daughter to come to the river to learn to swim, but she says no everytime because she's too scared.

And Shino doesn't want to push her or make her cry 🥺

But eventually, he realises that it's dangerous that she doesn't know how to swim, and tries to brainstorm a way to convince her without too many tears because they just break Shino's poor heart.

In the end, he just says that he's going to the river to swim by himself, and she begs to tag along because she doesn't like to be apart from him.

He tricks her into it lmaooo

Shino is a very good teacher, but his weak point is that he doesn't know when to push his daughter out of her comfort zone, so the second she's even slightly nervous, he aborts the whole thing lmao.

Shino's daughter only learns if Shino holds her up the whole time.

She ends up being able to float in a survival situation, but nothing much more than that.

Shikamaru:

He's a terrible teacher.

Shikamaru hates swimming in the river. He's like a grumpy cat when he gets wet, so he really tries to teach his daughter from the safety of the riverbank lmao

His alpha pushes him in. And then he drags them in with him.

The whole session devolves into a low effort water fight in which exactly zero teaching is involved.

Luckily, Shikamaru's daughter is very smart and a little bit more driven than him, so she figures it out.

She can swim decently by the end, but I doubt she would do it for fun.

Neji:

Neji gets a little stressed teaching his children how to swim. Not because they do anything especially wrong, but simply because it gets a little chaotic and Neji doesn't like chaos.

Neji's daughter absolutely spends about 95% of her time choosing out the swimming costumes she likes and 5% of her time learning to swim.

She sighs very dramatically when Neji makes her get into the river the first time and also complains about it being too cold which only frustrates Neji.

She ends up a decent swimmer but much prefers lounging on the river bed or just floating on her back.

Neji's son... he tries his best...

Neji himself has the most majestic breaststroke you're ever going to see in your life, and Neji's son... kind of looks like he's drowning the entire time he tries it.

He isn't drowning, mind you! He just flails a lot and splashes Neji a lot by accident, making Neji even more frustrated with the whole endeavour.

Neji's children are very polite and respectful, but all children cause chaos when they first learn to swim and Neji isn't great at handling things like that.

Kiba:

Okay, so anytime I've mentioned chaos before this... delete those from your mind... This is pure chaos.

Kiba fully just throws all six pups into the river and hopes for the best.

Of course, he throws himself in too to make sure that no one drowns, but that's really as much help as he gives.

He figures they'll learn eventually. Also, some of the older ones probably already know how to swim, so they can teach the younger ones!

It'll be fine...

He does bring a huge picnic with him as a reward for his pups for working hard.

Everyone is so tired out that it's the most peaceful meal he's had with all his pups in a long time.

Most of his pups end up very decent swimmers, mainly due to their complete lack of self-preservation and a penchant for making a mess. They all throw themselves into the river with no thought for their own safety.

It's almost impressive.

Iruka:

He's a phenomenal teacher, of course!

He's so encouraging and patient, and he finds the humour in the few accidental (and purposeful) splashes his son sends his way.

Both of his children are very close to each other, so they have zero issues sharing his attention and working together to learn to swim.

His son is a natural swimmer and while he loses focus and tries to prank Iruka in the middle, he picks it up easily.

His daughter struggles a little bit more, but she is a bit younger than her brother.

At one point she chokes on some water and gets upset, so Iruka takes her out of the river and wraps her in a towel and cuddles with her until she's calmed down.

Then he gently leads her back into the river with the promise to make sure he keeps a hand on her at all times.

She doesn't end up as good a swimmer as her brother, but she can handle herself.

Iruka also takes both his children back to the river one at a time about a week later so that he can work with them both separately and give them his full attention.

He's such an amazing parent and teacher, I can't-

Everyone has an amazing day and also learns to swim!

Itachi:

Itachi is a very patient teacher, but he gets a bit nervous about teaching both his children at the same time, so he teaches them separately so that they can learn faster, and also he won't accidently lose track of one of them and can make sure no one gets hurt.

His son takes the lessons very seriously!

He also refuses to go anywhere near the water without goggles on, he's one of those kids.

He kicks a little too hard trying to impress Itachi... ends up kicking him in the face instead.

Cries about that for about ten minutes.

His daughter is a natural and is all smiles for the whole thing.

It's unbelievably wholesome to watch Itachi spin her around in the water while they both laugh together 🥺

All in all, Itachi does a very good job and both his children successfully learn to swim!

Hope you enjoyed!

#omegaverse #headcanons #a/b/o #naruto #pups #sasuke #shikamaru #shino #iruka #neji #kiba #itachi #alpha reader #alpha!reader #omega naruto #naruto a/b/o #naruto omegaverse #omega!sasuke #omega sasuke #omega itachi #omega!itachi #omega shino #omega shikamaru #omega neji #omega kiba #omega iruka #omega!iruka

[hpimaginesandblurbs]

hey, sweetie! I came across your account and found your stories are utterly amazing! I can't get enough re-reading all over again; it's very very great! I was hoping if I could make a req? If only you don't mind!

Can you do the marauders (yes, prongs moony and padfoot) smut where they accidentally use degrading kink but the reader is hurt and she ended up crying because it makes her very insecure because she's nothing but just a fuck toy? I don't hate the idea of such kink but I'm not fond of being degraded even though it doesn't mean any harm. maybe they will praise her and cuddle until she's completely calm down. i really like fluff ending❤ thanks!

pairing(s): james potter x remus lupin x sirius black x reader (foursome) 

warning(s): 18+, foursome, double penetration, oral (male receiving), anal, degradation, praise, lots of cum, cute cuddles 

word count: 1.9k

a/n: oh my god. when i got this request i literally had to pause and reread it so many times because it sent me spiraling. too good. thank you for this because i know exactly what i’ll be daydreaming about for the next week! i’m the same way about degradation (i don’t want it unless i’m really in the mood) so i can totally relate. i just hope i did it justice. enjoy! 

“C’mon, puppy, sit right here like a good girl,” Sirius instructed, giving a pointed nod to his erect cock. He was lounging back on his bed, one hand propped behind his head, his raven hair wrapped up in a messy bun. He looked like a Greek God and he didn’t even have to try. 

You made your way up the bed, straddling his waist and hovering your core above him. You were already dripping wet with the anticipation of what these boys were about to do to you. You weren’t sure how it escalated to this point, but here you were. 

You were hovered above Sirius’ cock, Remus making his way up the bed behind you, and James was off to the side, stroking his cock and content with waiting until you were ready to take it. The night you four had planned was triple penetration to the ultimate proportions. 

You sunk down onto Sirius’ cock, feeling him stretch you and fill you so beautifully as he always did. All of their cocks were amazing, but Sirius’ was the perfect amount of thickness that you needed. 

“Fuck, you never stop being tight no matter how much we stretch you. Just the perfect little hole for us,” Sirius said roughly, his large hands coming to grip your hips and grind you down onto him, getting you settled on his cock. 

Remus was the next one with his hands on you, pushing you forward onto Sirius’ chest until you were completely exposed to him. He could see the spot where Sirius was entering your body, stretching you out completely, and he could see exactly where his own cock would be going - right into your tightest hole, already being stretched with a plug. 

He worked it out gently, all three of them listening to you whimper into Sirius’ neck as he pushed and pulled, teasing you, until he finally removed it. 

“That’s a good girl. Stay just like that and quiet to be our little toy,” James commented, reaching over to brush some hair out of your face. You keened at the attention, but his choice of words made you flush red with embarrassment. You knew logically you were more than just a hole or a toy for them, but hearing it made you question what their intentions were nonetheless. 

Next thing you knew, you could feel Remus’ cock at your entrance, slowly pushing in. It wasn’t as bad as you had expected, the boys had prepped you well, but the additional stretch and sting made you wince lightly despite your moan. 

Remus roughly grabbed your arms and pulled you back so your back hit his chest harshly as he bottomed out inside of you. You were now successfully taking both of their cocks which made your head spin with arousal, but his words sent you spiralling. 

“Oh don’t act like you’re in pain. That won’t work with us. We know you're just a filthy slut so you’ll take it like one,” Remus said, beginning to slowly roll his hips against your ass, forcing you to grind on Sirius’ cock in return. 

Regardless of how his words made you feel, you couldn’t stop the moan from falling out of your mouth, effectively proving him right. When you looked down at Sirius, you knew he could see the tears beginning to form in your eyes, but he disregarded it to begin thrusting up into you, your head falling back onto Remus’ shoulders. 

“Fuck she feels so good,” Sirius moaned. “Prongs, she’s ready for you,” he said, looking over to his messy haired friend. 

Once that was said, Remus released your arms and you had to flail to stay upright, clutching Sirius’s shoulder. You weren’t there for long before James grabbed a chuck of your hair from the root and pulled you down sideways, your mouth lining up with his cock. 

“Open,” was all he said, treating you indifferently. Something you were not used to and not a fan of. You did what he asked regardless though, hoping if you proved that you were good their attitudes would change. 

Once your mouth engulfed James, all three of them let out a moan in sync, getting off on the fact that all of them were inside of you at the same time. 

“Look at her,” Remus rumbled out, “just a filthy fucking whore taking all of us.” 

You whined around James’ cock in protest, but the vibration only made him moan and pull your head in further, your nose now flush up against his skin. A tear slipped down your face, both because of the urge to gag around James’ cock and because of their unexpected treatment of you. Sure they had degraded you before, but never this much, never all of them at once, and always mixed with praise. This was different and you didn’t like it. 

“Look at her,” James started with a breathless laugh, continuing to fuck your throat raw, “she’s even crying for it like the pathetic slut she is.” 

That’s what did it. That’s what had you pulling off of James with a sob, struggling for breath with tears pouring down your face. “Stop, please stop,” you begged quietly, praying that one of them believed you. 

Thinking back, you were all stupid to never have a safeword for these situations but nothing like this had ever come up before. They were always so good with reading you, knowing exactly what you needed. You weren’t sure what went wrong this time. 

Thankfully, James didn’t go to reach for you again and Sirius and Remus immediately stopped giving you the delicious friction they had been providing inside of you to turn towards your face. 

You collapsed against Sirius’ chest in a fit of sobs and he was quick to wrap his arms around you and pull you close. You could practically feel the panicked looks being passed between them, but they were all quick to jump into action. Remus was running his hand along your back, but he never pulled out, they knew how much you hated them pulling out before you were ready. You felt the bed dip and James sat down at Sirius’ side, a hand coming up to brush through your tangled hair. 

“What happened, love? What’s wrong?” Sirius asked softly, his lips brushing against your neck. 

“Too mean,” you whimpered out, not looking up at any of them. 

“We were being too mean to our sweet girl? You want us to be nice while you’re our good girl?” Remus asking, lips brushing your shoulder blade before he pressed a gentle kiss on your skin. 

“Please,” you said with a final shaky breath, looking up at the boys while your tears dried. 

“You sure you want to keep going?” James asked gently, his thumb coming up to brush the tears off of your face. 

“Please. Please, it felt so good,” you begging shamelessly, grinding down on Sirius and Remus’ cock for good measure, just to prove how much you wanted to keep going. 

“Fuck, okay okay,” Remus said, choking on a laugh when he felt how tight you were against him all over again. 

“Ride us just like that pretty girl. You’ve been so good for us all night. Letting us fuck you and strecth you like this. So good,” Sirius mused, really laying it on thick in his attempt to rectify his mistakes as he grabbed your hips harshly, overwhelmed with how tight you were. 

“You wanna use your mouth again, love? Or just your hand?” James asked, gently turning your face to his using a knuckle. 

You didn’t even reply, just bent over sideways once more and opened your mouth, tongue out. 

“You’re fucking perfect,” James said with a chuckle, gently working your mouth back onto his cock until he was lodged down your throat. 

They never stopped the rough treatment, but the words they were saying were affecting you so much differently now. Rather than making you question yourself and your place with them, they were making you feel so good and loved and safe. 

The way they were ravishing your body made you feel heavenly. The way Remus and and Sirius’ cocks were dragging in and out of you made your head spin and your core tighten, dangling on the edge just waiting to be tossed over. James’ cock down your throat gave you a fraction of power over at least one of them, knowing all of his pleasure was coming from your body. Truly, all of their pleasure was, but you were working hard for James. 

“Fuck you feel like a vice,” Remus groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he rolled his hips against you in a steady pace. You could feel the way him and Sirius’ cocks were dragging past each other through the thin walls inside your body, making you tremble with the thought of being so full of them. They were practically splitting you open, but oh what a way to go. “Let go for us, Y/N. Fuck, I can feel how close you are.” 

It didn’t take long after that. One, two, three more pumps from each of them and you were spiralling over the edge and into your release. You pulled away from James to let out your loud cry of relief and he readily took over to work his own cock, aiming it directly at your open mouth. In the rush of your release, you could feel yourself being filled with cum in all your holes. Warm rope after rope of cum gushed into your core and your mouth, completely filling you up from all angles. 

Being that full of their cum made you tremble, but you finally worked your way down from the clouds and collapsed against Sirius’ chest once more. 

It took all of you a minute to even feel coherent, but finally Remus was pulling out of you slowly. You could feel a rush of cum leave your body and trail down your thighs and onto the bed. You weren’t even sure whose bed you were on anymore. You whimpered at the feeling, both the unsatisfactory feeling of misplaced cum and the feeling of being empty after so long. 

Sirius went to pull out next, but you shook your head aggressively, needing to feel close to one of them after all of that. “Please don’t,” you begged softly, unable to give him a reason at the moment. You were a mixture of overwhelmed and still in a comedown, you just needed to be close. 

“Alright, don’t worry. You can stay here as long as you’d like puppy,” Sirius told you, shifting so the both of you were laying on your sides, getting you comfortable on the bed beside him. James crawled into the bed behind you, and Remus moved to relax against the headboard, pulling your feet into his lap to lightly massage them, relaxing you further. 

“You did so good for us tonight, love,” James said, moving his body so his chest was against you back, boxing you in. “We didn’t mean to upset you at all. You’re always good for us. You know that, right?” 

“I know. It was just too much in the moment,” you tried your best to explain. 

“We’ll talk about it later, yeah? We should have a word for if that happens again,” Remus suggested, quick to bring up what you had already been thinking about. You gave a small nod into Sirius’ neck, which he relayed to the boys. 

“Get some rest, pup. We’ll be right here when you wake up,” Sirius told you, placing a kiss on your forehead before moving to pull a blanket over the both of you, never pulling out once just as you wanted. 

Because you always got what you wanted from your boys. 

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