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sweets4dolls · 3 months

Note

Hiii can I request a bunny reader x Alastor and she’s new to the hotel a sweet and innocent new thing and alastor can’t help but take a liking to her and he befriends her and he convinces her to do the deed with him during his heat and he just goes at it I’m talking legs wobbling, squirting, breeding, her crying from overstimulation, him pressing her to the wall and taking it from behind and they go for it all night until his heat is finished and some sweet aftercare from alastor :3

𝒾𝓃 𝒶 𝓇𝓊𝓉

pairing: alastor + fem!bunny!reader

content warnings: smut, breeding, coercion, little bit of blood, dubious consent, not proofreadddd

notes: u guys I'm getting lazy I can't come up w titles ;( also I might do a pt 2 for the aftercare

as a knock raps against your door, you roll out of your bed, rubbing sleep from your eyes that blinked rapidly in an effort to adjust to the change in lighting in the room once you had flipped the switch on the wall.

you open the door with fluffy ears nearly falling over your eyes, the hinges squeaking slightly in the silent night as you peak from behind it, your head popping out as your sleepy eyes met Alastor's.

"alastor, what are you doing up so late?" you say, yawning into your fist, your short silky nightgown rubbing against your skin as you move your bare arm, shifting the fabric so your hand can reach your lips to cover your open mouth.

"bunny," he murmurs with eyes glazed over as he pushes your softness back in the room, forcing you to take a few steps back to accommodate his forward movements, not seeming to make any progress in spreading the distance between you too as your back soon hits the wall and he looms over you, caging you in.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you at this hour, but I need your help with something," he says, smile seeming unnaturally strained as he runs a hand over your bare shoulder, the tips of claws lightly scratching at your delicate skin.

naively, your little head flits back to Charlie's little games that you would play, remembering all of her lessons about helping out friends. "of course, anything you need," you whisper, looking at him worriedly, noticing his ears twitch and his movements that seemed to be restrained, "what's wrong?"

he lets out a contained laugh, eyes already wandering over your figure in the room's dim lighting, imagining what it would be like to slice the fabric off.

"well, darling I seem to be.... hurting," he says, his gaze not meeting yours as he looks down your nightgown, drinking in all of the flesh that was available to the eye.

"what, where?" you say, foolishly being concerned for him as he took your hand, dragging it down his chest, finally allowing it to rest on his bulge, barely being able to hold back from thrusting into your hands.

your eyes widen, a rosy hue spreading over your now nervous expression as you start to pull your hand back until he tightened his grip, not letting you.

looking at you like a depraved animal, he chuckles "don't run away from me, you said you'd help, you don't intend on going back on your word now, do you?" he nearly growls out, sending a shiver down your spine into your cotton tail.

hesitantly, you shake your head no, truly wanting to help him out, "n-no, i just- don't really do things like this often" you squeak, making him press against you, furthering your hand against his clothed cock.

"darling, don't you see I'm hurting?" he says, leaning in, smelling the pheromones that reeked from your soft flesh. "won't you help me?"

hesitantly, you nod, giving him all he needs as he starts to attack your neck, practically kissing and licking your skin raw with the amount of force he puts into it as he picks you up and carries you to the bed.

in seconds, your nightgown was ripped to shreds in a pool off to the side of the bed as alastor holds you down, mouth on your sensitive bud, suckling on it as fingers worked your tight little cunt to a looser state so you could take his cock better.

his fingers curl nicely inside of you, making your body squirm about on the bed, whines and begs fall from your lips as you work your way up to an orgasm until alastor pulls back, holding your hips down with one hand as he rids himself of his clothing, smearing the fat tip against your soaked slit.

"don't worry bunny, all you have to do is take me," he says like its reassurance as he presses your thighs up and over his shoulder as he pushes his way in quickly, not in the proper state for soft loving, and instead more than hellbent on breeding you your pretty bunny pussy.

you whimper as he grips your bunny ears, tangling them with locks of your hair and tugging on them just a little as his hips snap against yours roughly, trying to press deeper in your cunt with every thrust.

"you know, I wonder if its true about what they say about bunnies, that they're always multiplying?" he says with a grin as he lightly bites down on your neck, drawing little dribbles of blood from the puncture wounds that he eagerly licks up.

but you're too far gone to form a coherent sentence in reply, instead just babyish babbling falling from your lips as his hips slam into yours with bruising force.

"that's it, be a good little bunny and let me fill you up with a couple kids, hm? make your pretty tummy all big and full?" he says, words broken between his groans and him going down on your neck, now parts of it stained and smeared with blood.

rubbing vicious circles on your clit, he makes you cum all over his fingers and cock as he keeps going with his words, "gonna knock you up, keep you with me forever to be a good little momma," he rasps out.

"a-alastor," you cry, stray tears falling from your face as he continues to pump into your pussy.

he lets out a primal groan before spilling deep into your cunt, waiting a few seconds before pulling out, shoving any cum that escaped back into your morbidly sensitive hole.

it wasn't before long fingers shoving cum back into you turned to fucking back into you, making your eyes go wide as you whimper out, "'w-wait," you cry, trying to sit up before he pushes you back down.

"what, you thought you were done?" he chuckles "oh, baby bunny, I'm going to fuck you within an inch of your little life."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel smut #alastor smut #alastor x reader

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rodolfoparras · 2 months

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Had a very vivid dream of a man mounting on me, of course I had to turn it into Price always somehow. Also I have an underlying guilt of wanting to be baby trapped so...

Tw: Babytrapping (?) Abo elements

Old man omega Price who has given up on finding a prospective partner years before, until Alpha reader come along.

He can't believe an old man like him snagged someone so young and virile, can satisfy the whole task force but no you choose him, coming to knock at his door if you need a quick "fix" to satiate your alpha.

Of course he's your captain, and a good one takes care of his soldier. Though you refuse to mark him, only a grip at his waist, to make him permanently yours, it clouds doubt in his mind. Say, one plentiful night after a successful operation everyone came down to the base's nearest pub, and every omega preening to take you home.

And he sees blood, although you weren't his, although you only meet at dark to satiate each other's needs, he feels livid seeing you with others, apart of the taskforce or not. He doesn't interfere,broodingly sitting at the corner, finishing bottles of whisky.

So on the off chance, after you've stumbled back to the shared living complex, Price awaits at your door, a beast ready to take it's prey.

He claws at you, sending you tumbling down your bed as you're shred off your clothing. Your make out was quick and fast, Price taking your hardened member and immediately bouncing on it without a care in the world, you not getting a word out on using protection.

You hiss at your climax, gripping onto his waist like it was the thing that was only keeping you grounded from the sheer overstimulation. He hopes it takes, doubling his efforts on riding you.

And at night when you're all tuckered out, drained and beyond. A satisfied hum leaves his lips a hand rubbing his stomach, you may never bite him, claim him as yours.. maybe a baby would change your hesitance

-💫

Content warning: a/b/o, baby trapping, questionable consent, 18+,

Okay but hear me out Price growing more and more fond of the thought of carrying your mark, loses his mind when he feels your lips graze his neck or when you got an iron grip on his throat as you fuck him into the mattresses. It’s even better when the marks from your fingerprints turn into bruises and lingerie for days so that everyone can see them.

It doesn’t take much before he cooks up a plan on how he’ll actually get you to mark him- how he’ll get you to be with him for as long as he lives.

It starts with him riling you up, making you see red by watching him flirt with a good for nothing alpha at some dingy bar while you’re right there.

And when the two of you are all alone, you don’t waste a second before you got him corned, quickly smashing your lips together and ripping the clothes off of him.

But just when he’s about to sink down on your dick you tell him maybe you should wear protection, half heartedly digging around for a condom but he distracts you from it - maybe with a couple of words and with a sweet smile on his face or even with kiss, cerulean eyes watching closely the way your body relaxes under him.

He doesn’t waist a second before he’s realigning your cockhead up with his entrance, and sinking down your dick, swiftly setting a steady pace with his hips.

He deserves this, he thinks to himself as he practically bounces in your lap.

He belongs to you and you belong to him, he thinks to himself, watches you, blurry eyed and mouth agape as he inches closer to the edge.

He’ll have you, even if it means having to put a baby inside him, he thinks to himself, stays seated on your dick even when your knot has long gone down and you’ve long fallen asleep.

#this isn’t perfect but it’s def more than what I’ve written the past days and I really loved this idea !!#call of duty #john price x reader #john price x male reader #john price #captain john price #captain john price x male reader #captain john price x reader #top male reader #bottom male character

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munson-blurbs · 3 months

Text

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: You once again found yourself face-to-face with Eddie not even twenty-four hours after he checked into the motel, and your interactions left you with more questions than answers. (3.8k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, grumpy Eddie, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter two: here today

Bzzzzzz!

Your alarm clock blared its tinny ring at 1 PM. The sun was bright, a welcome change from yesterday’s overcast skies and steady rainfall.

You stretched as you awoke before shedding your oversized shirt and shorts, padding over to the shower and waiting a full five minutes for the cold water to turn lukewarm. The thinning bar of soap formed sad suds in your palm, and you lathered your skin as best as you could.

Despite your best efforts, you kept thinking about your encounter last night—that morning, really—with Eddie Munson. There was a cocky edge to him, evident by his initial refusal to put out his joint, but at least a shred of humanity; after all, he did eventually comply. There was even a semblance of…something that’d you’d shared in your brief interaction.

Or maybe it was just your imagination, the summation of your exhaustion and his high.

The towel scratched as you dried the water droplets from your bare skin, and though the cloth dampened, you could have sworn that it wasn’t wicking any moisture. Dad had been saying for years that he’ll invest in new linens “as soon as business picks up.” But business never picked up enough to do anything more than barely break even for the year, so the ancient towels stayed.

Picking the lint off of your purple T-shirt, you tucked it into your jeans and shoved your feet into your sneakers without bothering to unlace them first. One look in the mirror determined that you definitely needed makeup to look half-decent, or at least awake. There was no earthly way you would sacrifice a minute of precious sleep, so you swiped on some mascara in favor of an intricate routine and quickly fixed your hair.

You plucked a granola bar from the stash on your dresser: your usual breakfast, tossed into your backpack as you headed out the door towards the lobby. The bus would be arriving in about five minutes, giving you just enough time to get to the stop before the doors closed. Barring any traffic, it followed a consistent schedule; one of the few certainties in life.

“Hi Dad; bye Dad,” you called out, stopping in your tracks when you saw an obviously irritated Eddie standing in front of the desk, his arms crossed over his chest and his foot anxiously tapping. At least he was fully dressed this time, clad in a faded band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and the same denim jacket he was wearing last night when he’d first walked in. “Everything okay?”

Dad motioned to Eddie. “Our guest is having some issues with his TV,” he said, his raised eyebrows indicating that the guest was being quite persistent about the matter. “Can you help him?” Before you could answer, he looked at Eddie and explained, “my daughter’s better with this technology stuff than I am.”

There was a temptation to argue that it was probably just a matter of smacking the side or replacing the remote batteries, but you didn’t have time to waste. “Yeah, sure,” you relented, turning to Eddie and waving him over. “Come on.”

Eddie waited to speak until the two of you were completely alone. “That was your dad?”

You nodded, shoving your hands in your pockets and keeping your walking pace until you reached his room.

“So what’s the problem?” you asked as he turned the key in the lock. It stuck for a moment before it fully unlatched, and he opened the door with a shove.

“The reception’s shit,” Eddie muttered, keeping his fingers splayed on the door so you could walk in first. “Every time I try to put on MTV, it’s all static. Tried it last night, too, but I figured it was because of the storm.” He gestured to the now-sunny skies. “But that shouldn’t be affecting it anymore.”

You offered a wry smile, the way you always did when delivering bad news to a guest. “Nothing’s wrong with the reception,” you explained, “there’s just no cable.”

“What?” His brows shot up in disbelief. “How is that even possible?”

“It’s simple.” You shrugged. “Cable costs money, we don’t have money; ergo, no cable.”

Eddie raked a hand through his messy curls. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.” His feet could have worn holes in the floor with the way he was pacing. “Where can I watch MTV around here? Like, is there a bar or something?”

“Yeah, I mean, there’s one right down the—” You turned to the window but stopped mid-sentence, your stomach sinking as you watched your bus fly past. You heaved a dejected sigh as tears prickled at your eyes embarrassingly, and you blinked them away.

It’s okay; I haven’t been late at all this semester, you silently reminded yourself. You could take one of the dollar cabs that runs up and down Jamaica Avenue. It wouldn’t get you exactly where you needed to go, but it would be close enough.

Eddie remained oblivious to your inner turmoil, eyes trained on the TV. “Fuck,” he grumbled, sucking through his teeth.

“The clock radio plays music,” you offered as you hiked your backpack higher up on your shoulder. “I know it’s not the same as watching videos, but–”

“It’s not about the stupid videos!” he snapped, curling his palm into a tight fist and biting down on his forefinger knuckle. Dark eyes exuded distress, and you couldn’t help but think that his sheer panic mismatched the problem’s minimal severity.

You recoiled at his sudden outburst and took an instinctive step back. He noticed this, his expression instantly softening. His hand unfurled and fell to his side.

“Shit, I–”

“I’m gonna be late to class.” You composed yourself, straightening your posture and forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “But the bar is right on 144th and 89th.”

He sputtered as he searched for the right words to apologize and explain himself. If you had time, you’d wait for him to unscramble his thoughts, but you were already behind schedule now that your bus was long gone.

You strode across campus like you were on a mission, feet flying over the pavement. The cab had left you at another bus stop closer to school, and that bus had thankfully arrived on schedule. At this rate, you would only be ten minutes late to class.

Sweat trickled down your back from midday sun’s warmth and your fast pace, but you kept walking until you reached the lecture hall’s double doors. This class was a smaller one, only twenty or so students, so there was no sneaking in unnoticed.

You shot your professor an apologetic look that she accepted with a polite nod, sliding into your usual seat next to your friend Nora.

“Is everything okay?” Nora whispered, moving her own bag from the chair. The concern on her face was palpable; if you weren’t able to make it to class, you would have called her.

“Yeah, just stuff at the motel going haywire as usual,” you reassured her with a small smile, digging out your notebook and a pen. You flipped to the first blank page and scribbled today’s date next to the right-hand margin. “What did I miss?”

Nora shook her head as if to say, nothing. “She just gave back last week’s homework. I grabbed yours, too.” She handed you a sheet of paper with a bright red A+ on top. “I figured if something had happened to you, you could be buried with your most recent perfect paper.”

She winked, and you rolled your eyes to mask your burgeoning pride.

Truthfully, you’d worked hard on the assignment. You might have already been accepted to graduate school, but NYU’s prestige didn’t come without a hefty price tag, and you still needed to apply for scholarships in order to afford it.

Now was not the time to slack.

You tried to pay attention to the lecture, but your mind constantly drifted to the way Eddie had behaved in his room, having a meltdown like an overtired toddler. The man who had lost his temper over a television channel was starkly different from the one who had readily swapped playful jabs with you the night prior.

Maybe whatever buzz he’d managed to acquire before you’d interrupted him had made him uncharacteristically pleasant, and today’s outburst was indicative of his true self.

You bit the inside of your cheek and willed yourself to focus on the case study being presented on the board rather than your own personal Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the mystery that was Eddie Munson. Guests had had their choice words with you before—there was a reason why you had pepper spray at the ready—but this felt different. When most guests screamed like he had, they were specifically angry at you; it was the reaction you had expected when you’d told Eddie that he couldn’t smoke pot in the motel. Others simply were not in their right minds and didn’t realize that they were shouting at a random woman and not their mom or childhood bully or the monster under the bed.

Eddie differed from both categories in that he’d recognized his mistake. That he was frustrated at the situation, not at you. That he had started an apology that he might have finished If you had stuck around.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe he would have continued yelling, face growing red with rage. Maybe he would have stopped his tantrum but stormed out to the bar without a second thought.

You looked down at your notebook page, still blank except for the date.

Maybe you should stop playing this game of what-ifs and actually listen to the lecture.

After your professor handed out the rubric for the final paper and dismissed the class, you and Nora made a beeline for the food cart outside the building. Dining hall food was too expensive and bland; besides, Niko knew both of your orders by heart.

He greeted you with a chipper smile as soon as you approached the cart. Bacon sizzled in its own fat, drowned out only by the sound of the chopper scraping against stainless steel as Niko scrambled the eggs.

“Better enjoy this nice weather while it lasts,” he said, fuzzy gray brows pinching together. He grabbed two styrofoam cups from a stack and filled them with coffee. “Temperature’s s’posed to skyrocket this summer.”

You grimaced, pulling a few bills from your backpack’s front pouch. “If food service doesn’t work out for you, Niko, you should look into meteorology.”

He brushed off your sarcasm and adjusted his apron over his protruding belly. He added cream and sugar to the coffees and slid them towards you. “Been doin’ this a long time,” he said, gesturing to the food cart set-up. He took your four singles and handed you back two quarters, doing the same for Nora. “Longer than you two’ve been alive. And some things never change: you kids always have somethin’ smart to say.”

Your mouth watered as he toasted the rolls and added a slice of American cheese to yours before combining the ingredients into hearty sandwiches. He carefully wrapped them in tinfoil and handed them over.

You smiled, uncovered the sandwich, and took a hearty bite. Melty cheese oozed out from the roll and clung to your lip, and you collected it with the tip of your tongue. “At least we’re consistent,” you teased, waving goodbye as you and Nora walked to the bus stop.

“What went down at the motel today?” Nora asked, chewing her food as she spoke. “I mean, I’ve seen you get to class early during a blizzard,” she added with a knowing grin.

You remembered that day, February winds whipping around you and cutting through your layers of clothes like a knife. The snow stung your nose and cheeks and made it nearly impossible to see three feet ahead of you, but you’d made it to class before the professor had even arrived.

“Nothing really,” you tried to say nonchalantly, taking another bite of sandwich to keep your mouth busy. You don’t want to think about the way Eddie had raised his voice at you this afternoon; more specifically, the shame that tugged at you for being disappointed. You’d had one decent interaction with him and you’d foolishly assumed some kind of mutual respect had been built, but it all boiled down to the basics: he was a guest at the motel who would be checking out on Friday, and then you’d never see him again.

Nora wrinkled her nose, not quite believing you, but any further interrogation was interrupted by the bus squeaking to a stop. You dropped the five quarters into the tray before squeezing your way through the aisle.

“Just…” Nora dropped her voice to avoid drawing the ire of your fellow commuters, grabbing onto a pole to steady herself, “you didn’t need to break out the pepper spray or anything, right?”

You gave her a grateful smile. “Nothing like that. I promise.”

“Good.” She reached over and gave your hand a small squeeze, careful not to brush up against anyone else. “Because I need my study buddy in one piece.”

“I’m fi—” The bus lurched forward suddenly, the driver slamming on the brakes just as the yellow light turned red. You tightened your grip on the pole and planted your feet into the floor to keep your balance until coming to a complete stop. The other passengers grumbled and groaned as they shifted, leaving trails of mumbled sorry’s in their wake.

The Metropolitan Transit Authority would likely cause your demise well before any motel guest could get to you.

It was barely after six PM when you got back to the motel. The sun began to creep down from its pedestal into purpling clouds and teased dusk’s beginning. Horns honked as rush hour traffic dragged along the expressway as though their cacophony would make the other cars evaporate into thin air.

You had about four hours before your shift started; it was just enough time to work on the paper, take a quick nap, and boil water in your electric kettle to make some Cup Noodles.

“Hey.”

You looked up to see Eddie leaning against the wall, a cigarette burning between his pointer and middle finger. It was freshly lit, but he still extinguished it under his foot before stepping closer to you. His brown eyes flickered from the ground to your face and back down again.

“Hi.” Short but polite, your customer-service smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. You could see Mom through the glass door, leafing through paperwork that was almost certainly a stack of past-due bills.

Eddie shoved his hands in his pockets, scuffing one Reeboked heel against the pavement. “I went to that bar you told me about.” He said it all in one breath as though he expected you to take off running.

“Oh.” One corner of your mouth quirked up in a hesitant half-smile. “Did you, um, did you get to watch your show?”

He nodded, a forlorn look clouding his eyes. His right incisor dug into his lower lip. “Yeah. Thanks.” He paused, and you started for the door once again before he spoke up. “Sorry, I—you said you had a class today?” he asked, clumsily tripping over his words.

There was no sense in lying; not with your backpack hooked over your shoulders. “Mhm.”

“Were you…” His tongue swiped nervously over his lips. “Did I make you late?”

You shook your head. “I got a dollar cab.” Not quite a lie, just omitting the truth. At this point, you were willing to let him smoke weed again if it’d result in easy conversation.

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek, head tilted slightly as he assessed your response. He seemingly accepted it at face value, exhaling a quiet, “that’s good,” and fumbling in his pocket for another cigarette.

You took that as your cue to leave and ducked into the lobby to greet your mom with a quick wave. She returned it with a weary smile, eyes creased at the corners. The soft lines etched into her forehead had deepened over the past few months. The Reagan-Bush trickle-down economy era might have come to an end, but its remnants still affected small businesses and the even smaller people running them.

“How was class?”

“Good.”

The usual exchange, no real information revealed. The mother-daughter song-and-dance performance of the ages. As long as neither of you disrupted the routine, the music played on.

Ten PM rolled around too quickly, and you plodded into the lobby with a stomach full of sodium-drenched noodles and your tote bag full of books. A street light flickered outside, more off than on, illuminating the sidewalk in a hazy glow every so often.

Mom handed over the register keys and placed a kiss on your cheek before she left to go to bed in the room she shared with Dad. Nighttime was the only time they got to be together uninterrupted, and it was spent sleeping.

That wasn’t what you wanted. When–if–you found somebody to share your life with, you wanted to have conversations with topics besides financial upkeep. You wanted to talk about meaningless topics and make each other laugh. You wanted to lay with your head on their lap, gazing into their eyes and revering in the beautiful silence. Nothing forced or planned. Just being.

You positioned yourself behind the desk, spreading your supplies in front of you. You’d managed to draft the opening paragraph for your essay before sleepiness overtook you and you’d had to nap, and your goal tonight was to revise it to perfection. The upcoming weekend would be spent at the public library, nose deeply buried in every psychology book they owned while you outlined the body.

Red pen marked up your page, commas added and removed three times over. Arrows shifted sentence order, while some sentences were altogether crossed out with heavy lines.

It was perfect. It was all wrong. You loved it. You hated it.

Maybe I should scrap it altogether and start over.

Your palm pressed to the notebook page, ready to tear it out and crumple it into a ball with jagged edges that would dig into your skin.

“Hey.”

In your intense focus, you hadn’t even heard anyone walk in. A rookie mistake; somebody could have snuck up on you and you’d be none the wiser.

Eddie stood there, a folded one-dollar peering out from between his thumb and forefinger. He shuffled to the desk and held out the money, his eyes offering a silent apology.

“I owe you for the, uh, cab,” he mumbled, lips forming a tight, nervous smile. “And don’t argue with me. I know my bullshit made you late, so…” He flitted his free hand as if dismissing potential concern.

You clicked your tongue in mock disapproval. “You’re not from New York City, are you?”

Eddie shook his head with a laugh, fingers scratching at a stubbled patch along his cheek. “How’d ya know?”

“A New York man knows better than to tell a New York woman not to argue with him,” you teased, capping your pen. “Also, you tried starting a conversation with me earlier, and any New Yorker knows that’s a cardinal sin.”

“Having a conversation?”

“Making small talk with a stranger.”

His nose crinkled in adorable bewilderment as though the thought never occurred to him. “We’re not strangers. We met last night.”

The innocence of his remark drew a genuine laugh out of you. “I see the same people on the bus every day,” you told him, “and they’re still strangers. Being more than mildly aware of someone's existence doesn’t mean I know them.”

“Fair point,” Eddie conceded, leaning in slightly, “but I’d argue that we know each other’s names, so we’re not total strangers.”

Humming your acknowledgment–but not necessarily agreement–you plucked the dollar from his grasp and tucked it into your back pocket. “I’ll put this towards your bill.”

“Oh, yeah. About that.” Eddie cleared his throat and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Are there any pawn shops around here that’ll buy a guitar?”

“No, sorry.” There had been one down the street but it had already been shuttered for a few years. Guests would go there all the time to hock whatever they could to pay for another night at the motel.

He let out a long, disappointed sigh. “Shit. Okay.” The playfulness behind his eyes faded. “Um, thanks anyway.”

He turned away from the desk, shoulders slumped. You knew that look all too well; it was the stance of someone who just needed life to cut them a break.

“Eddie?”

He swiveled back around, his curls a half-second behind. “Yeah?”

“Do you know how to re-wallpaper a room?”

“Huh?” Your question caught him by surprise, and he took a moment to collect himself. “I mean, yeah, kind of. I did it for my uncle’s trailer once. But I’m not, like, a professional.”

You smiled. “No professional experience necessary.” You gestured to the various spots on the wall where the paper was cracked and peeled. “If you can make this look presentable, you can stay a few more days. Free of charge.”

His expression immediately darkened, eyes narrowing and crossed arms closing off his body. “I don’t need charity,” he asserted through a tensed jaw.

“It’s not charity; it’s a favor.” The harsh reaction caught you off-guard, but you refused to let him unsettle you again. “Look around: do you really think we can afford to hire someone to install new wallpaper?”

You didn’t bother to wait for his response before continuing. “We need to fix this place up, and you need a roof over your head.” Shrugging casually, you held onto the hope that he would also view this as a mutually beneficial offer and not a pity handout.

Eddie just scoffed, a rejection in itself, compounded with a growling reprise: “I said, I don’t need charity.”

Spikes jutted out from his words and pinched your skin, each one a reminder of your uncanny ability to worsen every problem you tried to solve.

Offering a job to someone you barely knew? He gave you a buck to pay for the cab you only had to take because of him—not exactly the best character statement. The man could be a serial killer who preys on low-budget motel owners and you’d be none the wiser, signing his checks like you weren’t his next victim.

Maybe next week, you could hire Ted Bundy to change bed linens.

“Understood.”

He looked at you so intensely his pupils should have bored a hole right through you. Behind his eyes wasn’t an ounce of hate or even anger.

It was raw shame.

I’m sorry got caught in your throat and didn’t reach your tongue until he had disappeared back down the hall, out of sight.

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@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @chrissymjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @reidsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @bewitchedmunson @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #lam

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keisobe · 1 year

Note

THE HCS OF READER PLAYING WITH NETEYAM AND LO’AK’S HANDS WERE SO CUTE OMG.

perhaps you can do hcs for neteyam and lo’ak where the reader gets slightly jealous bc they’re spending more time with another girl? i wonder how they would react…

tysm!

── ◝✩ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 (𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝟐)

characters. lo’ak sully + neteyam sully

notes. okay so i love angsty jealousy tropes A LOT. especially when the reader is the one jealous so thank you for requesting this anon! i hope i did the sully boys justice ^^ + not completely proofread

neteyam ✩‧₊˚

jealously never usually crosses his mind in all honesty, actually he rarely even feels an ounce of envy himself. he’s confident and values his pride and skill, so there was really nothing to worry about. when neteyam started to date you, his mindset never changed, but when he found out you were the jealous one, he couldn’t help but feel a bit more prideful. neteyam finds your jealousy to be amusing and he feels ensured that he’s protected by you.

from a short distance, you watched neteyam speaking to a girl— noticing how she lightly brushed her hand against his as they observed maps of pandora together. yes, you trusted neteyam completely. one thing that you admired about him was his boundless loyalty he had for the people he love. but there was itch, an irrational itch to just seat in between them and rip the map into useless shreds of paper. your fangs dangerously bit down on your lip, nearly drawing crimson.

without second thought, you abandoned your hiding spot and marched towards the pair. neteyam notices you first, his yellow eyes observing the furrow of your brows and the pout on your lips that he loved so much.

he couldn’t help but grin at your flaming jealousy.

“sorry i have to go,” neteyam looked over to the girl with feigned sympathy, reaching over his hand to feel your soft hands latch onto his slim fingers. you never acknowledged the girl, instead you tugged neteyam from his seat and snatched the maps from her grasp— walking away without looking back.

“you hang out with her too much,” you hissed, trying to decipher one of the intricate maps but all you see was confusing scribbles and tiny written language.

“don’t tell me you’re jealous?” neteyam snickered, raising his eyebrows playfully at you.

“i am,” you admitted with a firm voice, not afraid to express your envy. you handed him the maps that were slightly crinkled after snatching it from the faceless girl— you still had no plans to find out who she was.

neteyam felt a little at ease by your possessiveness.

“then i’ll teach you how to read them,” neteyam smoothed out the creases of the maps. a sigh of relief came out of him when he saw you try to hide a smile.

neteyam will tell you how cute you look when you’re jealous after you calm down.

lo’ak ✩‧₊˚

he was very familiar with the feelings of envy, being brothers with neteyam and all. growing up as an outcast of his people has put him in situations where he felt insecure and mad at the world. but once lo’ak started dating you, he was surprised that you were also the jealous type. in all honesty, he felt reassured that you felt so strongly towards him— it made him fall for you even harder. also, lo’ak feels secretly prideful knowing that he’s yours only.

“breathe in,” lo’ak takes a deep breath. “and breathe out.”

he unleashes a gust of air through his lips, sensing his heartbeat slowing down. tsireya smiled, proud of the progress they were making in their training. you were watching their session intently, the opaque shells that you collected in the depths of the sea were set aside— all covered with jagged lines and stab marks.

these past few days, lo’ak has been training with tsireya, leaving little room for you to be alone with him. the idea of him spending time with another girl left you completely bitter and miserable.

in celebration of his efforts, tsireya embraced him tightly, firmly wrapping her arms around his neck. lo’ak looked unsure what to do, his hands awkwardly hovering over her waist. all you could do is silently drag your knife as you carved the shell— each drag left a sour chime.

his eyes locked with yours, noticing the glint of red in your usual soft eyes. lo’ak gave you a reassuring gaze, whispering something in tsireya’s ear. whatever he said made her jump away in surprise and her silky voice released an endless amount of apologies— prompting her to leave the both of you alone.

the grip on your knife finally loosened, a rush of blood flooding back into your relieved veins. lo’ak walked over to you with a small smile on his blue face— flustered at how pretty you looked with a glare.

“you good?” he tilted his head in curiosity, taking one of the terribly carved shells and tossing them back into the clear ocean.

you feigned a smile, but the dark pools of your eyes made it obvious that you were angry.

“yes, i’m fine.” lo’ak didn’t believe a word, but that only made him adore you even more.

he took your smaller hand into his larger ones, leading the both of you back into the village. for however long it’ll take him, he’ll always say he’s yours.

#✩.*˚ — ina’s works🎂#ੈ♡˳ — (atwow) 📁#* ੈ♡˳ — (neteyam sully) 🎞️#* ੈ♡˳ — (lo’ak sully) 🎞️#lo’ak #lo’ak sully #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar 2 #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak sully x reader #avatar headcanons #— ౨ৎ ࣪ . ⊹ : drabbles

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 1 month

Text

Name Your Price — Amren x Reader (Starfall Week)

Hiiii! Here’s my little piece for @starfallweek 2024. I hope you all like it 💕my beautiful soulmate @greeneyedivy helped me name it 💅🏻

I used the prompt “character A finally makes a move on character B”. I’ve never written for Amren before so this was quite fun!

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 3.9k

“You’re sure you don’t want me to fly you back up?”

Cassian cocks an eyebrow at you, the steadiness of his hold dissipating as he tugs his arms from around you. Though your feet are on solid ground, it takes a moment for your equilibrium to right itself. Being in the skies is something you haven’t yet become accustomed to, despite three of your closest friends sporting wings. And being flown on Starfall is an experience entirely of its own.

“You’ll miss the best part,” Cass complains, peering up at the dark canopy above you. The sky is beginning to stir as the stars ready themselves for their journeys. It won’t be long before they’re soaring and crossing.

And tempting as it is to stay and watch the sight that never lessens in its magnificence, you feel…different this year. Like there’s somewhere else you ought to be. Someone else you ought to be with.

“I’m sure,” you dip your chin. “You go, Cass. Enjoy it.”

But he doesn’t move. He studies you head to toe, studies every shred of effort you put into your appearance — hair and makeup perfected, a stunning outfit hugging your body. You feel beautiful, no doubt — and yet you’re leaving after a mere hour of drinking on the balcony with your friends.

“You know she’s just going to be holed up in her apartment with the curtains drawn,” Cass says. “She hates Starfall.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Who?”

“You know who.”

Amren.

Is it little bit humiliating that you’re so damn transparent? Perhaps. But Cass is one of your closest companions — you can hardly expect him to believe that you’re simply leaving to return to your own home and switch your stunning dress for your pyjamas.

You shrug a shoulder. “I just want to check on her, is all.”

“Hmm,” your friend’s lips twitch. “I’m sure.”

With a roll of your eyes, you swat his ludicrously huge arm. “Go back to the party,” but you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you — for flying me.”

“Good luck with the tiny little rain cloud. She’ll be even crankier tonight than usual.”

With a lopsided smirk and a fond — and annoying — mussing of your hair, he launches back into the sky and heads back to the House of Wind. You stare after him, wondering if you’re making the right choice.

Because when Amren says she wants to be left alone, she means it. But…you don’t know. Things have been changing. Things have been…different.

This is your third Starfall, since your move to the Night Court after the war. A native of the Day Court, it had surprised you to find yourself so at home in a place of starlight, so opposite to what you’d always known. But as one of Helion Spell-Cleaver’s nearest and dearest, you’d worked closely with Rhysand and his Inner Circle during those fraught times of battle and bloodshed — and bonded with them far more than you’d ever expected yourself to. Become an honorary member of their unit, so to speak.

And when Rhysand had courteously invited you for a visit to Velaris after the war was over, you’d known from the second your feet had touched the cobbled streets — this was where you were supposed to be.

Three years later, with a home here, a job as a Night courtier…it was hard to imagine you’d ever been anywhere else.

And perhaps the most notable and unexpected connection you’d forged was the one you had with the with the tiny creature whose barbed, edged words were — you’d learned — a sign of affection.

You did not understand Amren one bit. She was a mystery you couldn’t puzzle out, a being that was sometimes so harsh, it was hard to believe she had any warmth in her at all. But Rhysand giving the two of you a subject he’d needed you to research together had brought you closer, over the recent months. Had shredded through that trepidation you’d once felt around her and shifted it into something…different. Something exciting.

You find that try as you might, you can’t stay away.

And that’s how you find yourself strolling those cobbled streets of Velaris, dressed up to the nines and stars beginning to burst above you. You could be spectating the brilliant sight with your friends, but something tugs you towards the other side of the city. To the loft apartment with the sloping windows and the strange, intriguing female who dwells within

Indeed, as you approach, you find those windows to be blacked out. Blocking out the sight of what is occurring in the skies. You almost smile, but now you’re nervous and second-guessing yourself a little. You could turn away, go home — in all likelihood, Amren won’t want to see you.

But tonight feels different. Tonight feels like a reckoning.

So you swallow your nerves and decide you’re doing this.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

You knock once, and a voice that is both nightmare and fantasy calls out, “Go away!”

Not unusual for Amren. She tells guests to go away, even when she’s invited them.

So you brace a hand against the door and call back, “It’s me.”

There’s a beat. And then small footsteps are padding closer. There are the sounds of bolts being undone, locks clicking. Whatever it is Amren feels she needs keep out is little more than a distant thought as she yanks the door open just a tad and eyes you suspiciously through the gap. Her steely gaze takes in your dress, hair, makeup. She lifts her chin.

“Why are you here?” she asks.

You shrug. Feel a little pathetic as you answer, “I thought I’d come see what you’re up to.”

“Why.”

“Perhaps I find your company to be just slightly more scintillating than Cassian’s.”

At that, there’s the briefest twitch of her lips. She masks it expertly. “A dead rat has more to offer in the way of company than that boy.”

You snort, rubbing at your arms. Goosebumps are pebbling your skin. The air is too brisk to comfortably be stood in for too long.

Amren studies you again, and too quickly for you to register, she’s widening the gap in the door and yanking you in by the front of your dress. She slams the door shut and gets to work refastening the bolts, sliding across the chains, securing every lock. It’s all you can do to stand and watch.

And then she turns to face you with a neutral expression — one that says that if you find anything peculiar about her behaviour, shut the fuck up. You know she won’t tell you what’s got her so on edge, so you don’t bother asking.

Instead, you turn, still rubbing at your chilled skin, and study the general disarray of her huge, open-plan studio apartment. Her bed is unmade, her trinkets and baubles scattered across various surfaces. And on the numerous overlapping rugs that cover the floor, a gathering of books, some stacked in a pile, others tossed aside, a few open on certain pages. It would seem she is spending the night going over your recent research.

“Perhaps a drink?” you ply, angling away from the mess.

She quirks a dark eyebrow. “Tell me, what is it about you and the others barging into my home and making demands of me?”

“I believe it’s customary to offer your guests refreshments.”

“I believe I didn’t ask for guests in the first place.”

Her words, to anyone outside your circle, would sound so sharp, so harsh. But you know Amren, now. That last sentence vaguely translates another meaning: I wasn’t expecting guests, but thank you for coming. Of course I’ll get you a drink.

Not that she’d ever say that in a million fucking years.

She saunters past you, towards the kitchen area. As she goes, she closes the open books and throws them onto the stacks. Picks up empty glasses.

“Don’t clean up on my account,” you say, knowing full well that she isn’t.

“I’m not,” she confirms. “I don’t want your clumsy feet treading on anything,” she places the empty glasses in the sink and turns to you. “What do you want to drink? There’s wine, wine, or wine.”

“I’ll have the wine, then.”

With the barest incline of her head, she turns her back to you. While she’s occupied, you take a moment to study the covered windows, everything that blocks out what’s occurring outside. Even the skylights are covered, and your lips twitch at the thought of her wrestling her way up there to fasten drapes over them.

It’s all so methodical, so thought out. And though you know she’d probably never tell you, you can’t help wanting to break down that barrier and know the more vulnerable side to her that is so unsettled by this holiday.

A glass is placed in your hand, and you clear your throat, ripping your gaze away from the skylight — but not fast enough for Amren not to notice.

“It unsettles me,” she says drily, surprising you.

You try your hardest not to blink at the offered snippet of information. “What does?”

“Starfall. What it is. What it signifies.” Taking a slow sip of her wine, she sits on the rug. You follow suit. “Those stars, beings, whatever you want to call them…they are on a journey. Going from one place to another. Perhaps from one world to another. That was once me.”

“…and that unsettles you…”

“Perhaps I know one of them, from many, many years ago. Perhaps they are an associate of a time and a world long-forgotten. A past friend or foe or—”

“A lover?” you supply. You’re not sure you mean to say it.

But Amren’s grey eyes slide to you, and one side of her mouth lifts into a wicked grin, bearing sharp white teeth. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes. No. I suppose I know nothing of your personal relationships. Of what you like.”

“I like what I like, and I hate what I don’t like.”

You stare at her, thoroughly annoyed and thoroughly entertained. Speaking with Amren is so often trickery and riddles. No matter how much you may feel like you’re getting somewhere, she always leads you on a merry dance that circles you back to the first step.

“And what of you?” she asks, surprising you.

Your eyes snag on the way her razor-sharp black hair moves as she angles her head. The ends tickle the column of her long, creamy neck, adorned with a jewelled necklace. For one moment, for some reason, the sight makes your head empty.

But you shake yourself out of the bizarre reaction and ask, “What of me?”

“What do you like?” Amren asks.

You almost snort as you take a long sip of your wine. Amren is simply not somebody who asks questions about other people very often. And the topic of your love life seems like one that would be trivial and pointless to her.

“Are you asking because you want to know?” you smile. “Or to be polite?”

Another flash of those brilliant teeth. “Have you ever known me to be polite?”

“I suppose not, no.”

“So tell me, girl, what takes your fancy?”

Draining your glass, you set it aside and lounge back, bracing yourself on your hands. And perhaps the wine is already commanding your mind and blurring lines — because it tells you to glance down at the full lips in front of you, painted with red that’s deepened by the dark nectar she sips at.

You do.

Amren watches. The air seems to shift.

“Pour me another glass,” your voice comes out huskier than you intend, “and I’ll tell you.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

“Lions?”

Rare, for Amren to sound like anything besides being perpetually bored. An hour or so later — and too many glasses later — the two of you are sprawled back on the rug, staring at the ceiling.

“Helion keeps lions?” she turns her head to quirk an eyebrow at you.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh in your voice. “Very real, very fucking huge lions.”

“I rather thought that Pegasuses were his thing.”

“They are. But his lions are a prided jewel of his — and a court secret that I absolutely should not be sharing with you.”

Her petite, lithe body rolls onto its side. She crooks her arm at the elbow and rests her chin there, staring at you through glazed, grey eyes.

It takes only a beat of eye contact for you both to break into laughter.

This is…unusual. And nice. Though the two of you have undoubtedly been growing closer, Amren always has a glass wall up that allows you to peer through but not penetrate. Tonight is the first night that you feel that…that you might be on the other side of that wall. That she might be letting her guard down for you.

You like it. A lot.

The laughter thinning out, she stares at you. It’s a little strange to see those sharp, angled features not appear harsh and ready to slice at anyone. She appears…open. Almost normal.

“Lions,” she repeats, in something like wonderment. “And they just roam about his private estate? Are they tame?”

“He has sprawls of private land on which they can roam freely,” you tell her. “That land is guarded very well, from anyone he doesn’t wish to share the sight with. The lions are very tame. There’s a rumour — though I never got Helion to confirm it — that they once walked on two legs and spoke our language. That thousands of years ago, a curse bound them to their feline form that even Helion’s vast libraries hold no answer to cracking. And since they weren’t able to break the curse, he and his predecessors set to ensure that they would, at least, always be safe and accommodated and able to live comfortably as they are. If it’s true, they seem perfectly happy in their lion bodies.”

“So Helion allowed you access to them? What are they like?”

You smile — at the images that the question conjures up, and the fact that you hold Amren’s interest enough for her to ask it at all. It makes you feel…proud, somehow. Like the cat that got the cream.

“Amazing,” you rest your arms behind your head, taking yourself back to that private land on which you spent so much time — just you and the lions. “They’re just…regal. The males have huge, brilliant manes. The females are so lithe and elegant. The cubs are painfully adorable. There are families of them. Sometimes, they fight. Often, they play. They love to snooze in the sun and frolic in the long grass. The youngsters love splashing each other in the lake. If they recognise you as someone they can trust, you can comfortably sit with them and stroke their fur. They especially like you if you bring them food.”

There’s such a long pause as Amren takes in your words that after a short while, your eyes slide to her, half expecting to find her asleep. But she simply stares at you. Quiet. Assessing.

“I think I would like to see lions,” she says after a moment. To her, it seems to be a huge confession. Something not easy to admit.

You study the perfect lines of her face. That face that appears in your thoughts when you’re trying to sleep, think about absolutely anything but her. You’re not sure you like how drawn you are to her. She’s so unreachable that it only makes you reach harder. So difficult to work out that sometimes, you question if she delights in your company at all.

It is, after all, you who always seeks her out. Since you began your research together, it’s been you who has found excuses to see her.

You who barged your way into her home tonight, while stars collided above you.

And you who might do something unwise if you stay any longer.

You clear your throat, breaking eye contact. Your head feels as though it’s filled with cotton as you sit up and announce, “Perhaps I should go.”

Amren pauses. “Why?”

“I didn’t mean to take up your entire evening.”

“You could stay,” she also sits up, tucking her legs beneath her. “You never did tell me what it is you like.”

You take a moment to just…breathe. You’re not used to Amren being so…warm. It’s dangerous. Exciting. You don’t know if it’s safe.

Slowly, you turn on the floor to face her. “I’m not sure you’d appreciate the answer.”

A dark eyebrow arches. She likes doing that. “Tell it to me anyway.”

Should you? Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Maybe you’ll tell her that thoughts of her keep you awake, not in the forms of nightmares but in the allure of fantasies. Maybe then she’ll cease all work she does with you, and distance herself from you, and you can rid yourself of these feelings—

“You are what I like,” you speak quickly, flushing hot. “Who I like. I was thankful when Rhysand tasked us to work together, because I was already drawn to you. It seems I can’t stay away—”

A flash of dark hair, the potent scent of perfume and wine, are the only warnings you get before Amren is in your face, her perfect mouth sliding over yours. Wine is the overpowering taste of the kiss, but there are hints of other things behind it — sweet vanilla and something floral.

It takes you by surprise, no doubt. But you push the shock away and sink into the rightness of it. Your shoulders slump, body loosening. You slide a hand up to tentatively cup Amren’s cheek, and you kiss her back.

What starts out slow and explorative quickly builds into something that steals the very air from your lungs. Your bodies seem to move in perfect synchronisation, finding the right positions from which the kiss can deepen and grow. Amren kneels between your legs, and a sharp tooth gives the slightest, twinging bite to your lower lip — one that makes you gasp.

The act is deliberate. She slides her tongue into your mouth, folding it around yours. Your tastes mingle until you’re not sure which is yours and which is hers, and that simply will not do. You want her on your tongue. The flavour of her skin and that scent of hers that is quickly growing stronger, thicker, shifting into something else that you would commit sins to taste.

Your fingers sink into Amren’s hair, and she makes a low noise that could be a warning or a plea. The strands, despite always looking sharp enough to slice through rock, are silken, soft. You fist them in your palm and tilt her head back to kiss her deeper.

But she pulls away, her heavy breaths landing on your lips. Her eyes meet yours, and it’s the first time you see her looking anything besides…steeled. Composed.

She looks flustered. Like pulling away from your mouth was the last thing she wanted to do.

“I don’t know what this means,” she blurts.

The admission makes you pause. You agree, “Neither do I.”

“No—not just this. What you do to me. I don’t know what any of this means,” she narrows her eyes at you, almost accusatory. “Emotions like these have always felt pointless to me, but you…”

“…but me?”

“You…” the word is leaden on her tongue. “You are different.”

Her gaze slides to your mouth again, and you can tell that her comfort is in articulating her feelings with actions, not words.

And that is just fine by you.

Like she reads the encouragement straight from your thoughts, a breathy word escapes her. “Yes.”

And then she’s fastening her lips on yours again and stamping out every shred of confusion. No matter what either of you are unable to say, the dance of your mouths can speak it all. For now, no more than that is necessary.

Amren kisses you, and you kiss her. It’s deep, desperate, yearning. It’s bigger than anything and everything. The stars that race through the sky pale in comparison.

This is the real beauty of this night. The real thing you had hoped for. It could end no better way.

You kiss until your mouths are bruised and tender. Until the taste of wine is gone, and there’s nothing but the two of you on your tongues. For all you know, the rest of the world outside this apartment could have disappeared. You’re not sure you care.

You’re the one to pull away this time, but you don’t move far. You part your lips to gulp down breaths and press your forehead to Amren’s. Your voice is a rasp as you joke, “You better not be kissing me just so I’ll show you the lions.”

She laughs — actually laughs. It’s a short, brusque chortle, but it makes you glow with pride.

But she quickly sobers. Her face is serious once more, her eyes drinking you in.

“I’m kissing you, girl,” she says, “because I think about you too much. Because the very first time I laid eyes on you, it scared me — what I might do to look at you forever.”

You try to mask your surprise. You hadn’t realised—

“It was me who suggested to Rhysand that you and I should work together,” she admits. She pulls back a little, as if urging you to read the honesty on her face. “It felt pathetic and foolish, but I did it to be close to you. I can’t stop myself wanting to be close to you.”

Exactly the same feelings you had tortured yourself with all this time. To think that Amren had agonised over it just as you had is comforting, somehow.

You reach out a hand, pinching a strand of her soft hair between your fingers. She watches the action closely.

“Don’t stop yourself wanting it,” you say, not at all sure that it isn’t a plea. “Don’t stop yourself, when I want it, too.”

“…I’m not used to being…unsure of things.”

“Embrace it,” you offer a smile. “Have fun with it.” With me.

She stares at you, brooding and calculating. You wait for her to decide that this is too out of the realms of familiarity. She won’t allow herself to be so vulnerable.

But then she moves her hand to yours — the one still touching her hair. Slowly, tentatively, she laces your fingers together. She stares down at your joined hands as though the sight is alien, fascinating.

“Stay,” she eventually says, glancing up at you. There’s an undertone in her voice, an inference.

“…the entire night?” you hedge. You try to keep the hopefulness out of your tone.

Her red lips lift into a smirk, grey eyes glimmering. “On one condition.”

“Name your price.”

Your heart picks up as she leans in again. Her hair tickles your cheek, and she watches closely as your skin flushes at the proximity. Her lips hover against yours.

But instead of kissing you, she whispers four words that land straight on your waiting mouth.

“Show me the lions.”

#starfall week #starfall week 2024 #starfall #amren #amren acotar #amren x reader #amren fic #acotar #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar writing #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanon #acotar fic #prompt

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onelittlespiral · 9 months

Note

You should make a top to bottom story!

FML: Worship

He had always been a great gym crush. When I was getting my pump, he would consistently be just a few machines over. His fiery hair and muscles glistened as he moved through his reps. I always worked a little harder when he was there, even though I knew it wouldn’t work. We had hardly ever exchanged words, but the few we had let me know he was straight as an arrow. I was a stacked guy myself, and I knew that there were countless twinks who would fawn over the chance to get with all this:

But I wanted him. I started slowly working up the nerve to talk to him, and was shocked to learn he knew my name

“Yeah man, I’ve seen you round here. You’ve got some sick gains, you’ve got to let me know your routine!”

From there, I decided to make a plan to ensure he would become mine.

I found a video that promised to create a “Gym Bro to Perfect Sub” out of any guy who watched it. It’s description promised that a single whiff of their dom would leave them madly in love and obedient. I told him that we should meet up at my place for some prep before hitting the gym together tomorrow. He was happy to oblige.

When he came over I quickly welcomed him in and ushered him to the couch. He sat patiently as I told him I had a tutorial for the routine set up to show the proper form. I cued up the video and left the room, turning back just to make sure it was all going according to plan. In just a few seconds, he was grinning stupidly as he fell under the spiral’s control.

As he fell deeply into a trance, the programming began:

You put in so much work bro. You should lean back and relax.

Intuitively, he leaned back on the couch, putting his feet up and hands behind his head. He had been really overworked the last few weeks.

Sit back and feel your body. Notice the feeling of muscle squeezing. Smell your body radiate heat and sex through stale deodorant. Feel the power you have. The power to change the world around you.”

He grinned as the feeling of masculinity flowed through him. He felt his muscles ache from yesterday’s workout. He had banged hard the night before and his musk was definitely not being held back by yesterday’s Axe. But the ladies loved it. He could pull just about any chick he wanted, do anything he wanted. He was a king.

You think about the person you see yourself as. But that’s not quite true, is it?

What? Nah man, he knew he was the shit. He was… he was… wasn’t he?

That’s not who you are. That’s who you could be.

As his self-perception popped, his body began to follow suit. His mature scowl began to take on a more boyish smirk. His once imposing stature shrunk down as he felt a bit more awkward and out of place. He still had potential though. Plenty of time to grow. He still worked religiously on his body to keep it plenty strong.

That’s the kind of men you look up to. Big powerful biceps. Pecs firm. Asses bubbly and tight. Cool, assertive personalities. Thick dicks to back it all up.

Y…no… yesss. That’s right. How silly of him. His arms deflated from buff to, generously, toned. His pecs shrunk down into his chest. His glutes lost tone as they became firm but small. His body sweat at the effort of losing years of hard work as muscle evaporated off of him.

This isn’t even the man you want to be. This is the man you want to be with.

At this moment, his mind flicked to his new mentor. He was promising to show him how to get shredded like him. The way his muscles glistened as he worked out… The way he towered over small guys like himself… The way his hair curled around his pecs and into those pits and captured his raw smell…

A hard on quickly developed, throbbing at the new feelings of lust. He began gently rubbing, imagining how good it would feel to pound his crush’s ass as any memories of straight life began leaking out his tip.

Men like that don’t need competition. They need relief from all the gym bros. They want a little bro. A boy toy.

All at once the need moved from his pole to deep inside. A deep itch he could never reach. A high pitched moan escaped as his ass felt so empty and needy. His thoughts of topping were drained away as he felt his ass reshaped to take cock. Any fight left in him melted away as the need to be fucked consumed his mind.

They deserve worship. They demand obedience and submission.

His mind, effectively broken at this point, slowly began to rebuild itself with one goal in mind. To bring pleasure. To serve. To feel a man use him as a tool for pleasure. He needed to submit. The spiral pushed on.

Good boy. You are ready for your new purpose. Your big, smelly gym bro will walk in soon and come to claim you. As his presence envelopes you, you will see him as yours. You will serve him so well and he will take care of you in turn.

He was ready. His mind emptied of any remaining thoughts but service and pleasure.

Good Boy.

His brain felt a warm wave of joy flow over it. He wanted to behave.

So submissive.

God he needed his dom, he needed to submit.

Perfectly happy, dumb, ready to serve.

Yeah, sooooo… happppppy… so… empty…

Now wait.

I walked into the room to his mouth still stuck agape, mind empty and happy. As my feet hit the floor, he came to, and looked over at me. I could feel his gaze trace my body as just my presence began to change his brain chemistry. “Get over here boy. ”

“Hiiii… oh god… fuuuuuck”

I walked over, picked him up off the couch, and pressed him against the wall.

“Yeah babe, take it all in. You’re much cuter. Daddy has been waiting far too long for this. I want you on this dick now,” I growled.

I watched as his mind was overtaken again, the programming taking over as my scent consumed him and my fur pressed against his body. His gaze was pure longing as he savored the scent that would become his world.

“Yes sir.” His breath was quick and heavy as his small hard on pressed against my stomach. He was drooling over my body as his tongue rolled out his mouth. He practically melted in my embrace, perfectly submissive.

“Good.” I carried him to the bed room, ready to give my new boyfriend the workout I had promised.

#hypnosis #transformation #straight to gay #top to bottom #musk #bro #male transformation #fml

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octuscle · 3 months

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Hey support, I was messing with the race change features and was wondering if you had any ideas for me? I just kinda want a life where I’m someone other than a skinny white guy

Slender, skinny white boy. That seemed to be your fate… No matter what sport you did, no matter what you ate: You always look like you're about to starve.

Actually, you're damn jealous of the big hairy guys in your gym, where you struggle unsuccessfully… But you can't admit that. " Miserable Arabs", you hiss. Just loud enough for them to hear. One of the musclemen stands up and walks towards you with heavy steps… He puts his huge arm around your bony shoulders. And whispers softly in your ear "Miserable Persians. Not miserable Arabs. Believe me, brother, you'll soon understand the difference."

You are in a state of shock. You've finished your training for today. You have to get out of here. You have to get out of your training clothes too. Shit, the collar of your T-shirt is almost choking you off. You really have to make an effort to tear it off on the way to the changing room. Damn, that feels good. You're breathing heavily. And your hairy chest muscles rise and fall. Your training shorts are tight against your huge thighs. You concentrate. You tense your thighs. And you burst the seams of your shorts. Your cock, circumcised by a gifted Persian doctor, sticks half stiffly out of the shreds of your trousers. The door to the changing area opens behind you. The Persian boys come in. They push you against the wall. And rip the rest of your clothes off.

They talk at you. You don't understand a word. Hardly a word. The boys are from the Yasd area, you are from Isfahan. They speak with a strange accent. And they have such divine cocks. One of the boys fucks you. You give another one a blowjob. The other two wank and shoot their load in your face.

The orgasm blows your lights out. You've been gone for a few seconds. You hear the boys laughing in the shower room. Sunset prayer is in an hour. By then you should have changed out of your sweaty gym clothes and done the ablutions. You can only hope that you don't get hosed down again in the shower. Then you won't have time until prayer…

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #race change #age progression #wife beater

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 6 months

Text

Word count: 1400+

Warnings: mentions of blood, depression, description of wound

In books there's no mention of Tamlin being able to winnow, but for the sake of story, let's pretend he can, okay?😉

Part II

You lived in a small cottage deep in the woods of Spring Court, far away from other fae. It wasn't like you hated them, they hated you. Most of the creatures living in this area avoided you, believing you had quite great powers and vicious nature, cursing anybody who crossed your way.

The rumours couldn't be further from the truth, but it didn't bother you what they said about you. You loved silence, enjoying every second of your lonely life in the heart of the nature.

You had several friends that used to stop by from time to time and brought you news, so you heard about everything that happened to your High Lord. You heard rumours about him going crazy, spending his days devastating his land in a form of horrific monster. You heard that fae ran away from this doomed Court. Last of your friends came to bid you farewell just few days ago trying to convince you to run away too. But why should you?

You lived alone, not caring about the outside world. You didn't care about what's happening out there, you didn't care about your High Lord nor the upcoming war. It had no meaning in your life. Feelings like hate, fear or love were just words with no particular meaning. And so the time passed slowly.

Fresh morning air brought smell of rain through the open window. Last night rained and the sound of raindrops on the roof of cottage lulled you to sleep. With bright smile you got up, changed and cleaned your room. Today it should be a nice sunny day. The intoxicating scent of flowers beckoned you out. Quickly you ran through your herb stocks and made a list of missing ones. You took small basket and went out to collect what you needed. Birds sang above your head as you bent down to tear off some chamomile flowers.

A roar thundered through the forest, making all birds fling away. You looked around with caution. Another roar shook the trees. And another. Now you knew where it was coming from. Quickly, but quietly you ran in that direction. It's in your nature to help to those who needed it. And this with no doubt sounded like somebody needed your help.

You ran up a hill ending in a cliff. And there down in a narrow valley on the other bank of small stream was lying the biggest beast you'd ever seen. Body of bear, head of wolf with antlers, his eyes were clenched in pain. On his side you could see deep wound, blood flowed in thin rivulets into the water. You didn't waste a second, climbed down and ran to its side. As you got closer, the beast opened its eyes and looked at you with a growl, showing off rows of sharp fangs. You halted and held up your hands.

"It's okay. You see? I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you. Will you let me take a look?" you spoke to the beast in a soothing voice as you slowly step by step got closer. The beast growled again, but it put its head back on the ground. Green eyes never left yours, watching you with caution. Slowly you bent down. "Can I?" you gestured to the wound. It took few heartbeats, but the beast nodded slightly.

You knelt down between enormous paws, trying to ignore the dagger-like claws that could turn you into shreds of flesh in less than minute and examined the wound. It was so deep you could see its bones and even though it'd already begun to heal, it had to be treated. You bit down your lower lip. You needed to get the beast to your cottage, but it's too big and couldn't walk on its own in this state.

"It's quite deep. I need bandages and salve, but I don't have it all with me now. I'd need to go home. You are too big and heavy, so I can't take you with me.." you started to explain.

"Where?" a male's voice rasped.

"What?" you questioned, not sure if you really heard it.

The beast blinked. "Where?"the voice repeated with great effort. You lips parted in surprise.

"Well.. My cottage is about a kilometer to the north east from here."

"'Know the place," it breathed out. "Hold on to me."

You weren't so stupid to think, it's a real speaking beast. If nothing else, its eyes gave you enough hint. Of course, it's a high fae, a shape-shifter. And it seemed he could even winnow, so you did as he told you and took his paw with both of your hands. In a blink of an eye you were back in your cottage. Your head spun after the winnow, but you ignored it. Quickly you brought everything you could need and started to work on him. After few minutes the wound was bandaged and bleeding had stopped as well.

"I'm done," you announced. "It will take some time to completely heal. You can stay here until you will be able to move again." You wiped your hands clean while the beast just was laying, eyes narrowed, lost in his thoughts. He didn't seem to be in pain anymore. "Would you like something to drink?" you asked him gently, peeking on him.

His eyes concentrated on you once again, roaming around your face and then down your body. There was so much sadness in them. He just shook his head. "So I will let you take some rest," you nodded. "If you change your mind or it hurts you, tell me." The beast snorted and his eyes once again stared into the distance, returning to whatever he was thinking about before.

Several days passed since you found the wounded beast and brought him to your cottage. He didn't want to eat nor drink and that made you worry. He didn't speak, answering you only with small nods, his gaze was unfocused. He just lay on the floor where he winnowed to, like a lifeless object, stuffed animal. Even his wound was closing slower than it should.

You believed that everything had its time. If he wanted to talk about what bothered him, he would already say something. It wasn't your place to stick your nose into other's troubles. But still you were worried about him. You even heard him cry in his sleep last night.

Every day you checked on his wound, applied the salve and wrapped it into clean bandages and today wasn't different. Before, you let him be after tending the wound, but not today. He needed help and you were more than ready to offer your help even though he didn't ask for it.

You made him tea and set the bowl in front of him. It would be easier if he turned back into his normal form, but it couldn't be helped. Maybe he was too weak to do so. You sat down next to him and in silence ran your fingers through the fur on his shoulder. He sighed and closed eyes. You didn't talk, just continued to stroke his shoulder. After few minutes he dipped his tongue in the bowl and drank a bit. His sad green eyes turned to you, watching you carefully.

"You don't have to do this," he rasped.

"I know," you answered gently. He huffed. His eyes roamed around the room as if it was the first time he noticed.

"For vicious witch, you live quite peacefully. Silently I'd say." Now it's time for you to huff.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

"Everyone runs from this doomed Court. Why don't you do so too? Aren't you scared of High Lord?" His voice sounded so empty, without any feelings.

"I don't care about what's happening out there," you answered evasively.

"Hmm," he hummed. "Did you hear about his fiancée and the best friend? They ran away from him too. He certainly must be a monster." He watched you out of the corner of his eye.

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I've never met him. I would prefer to make my own opinion on him."

"I see," he drank some more of the tea and then stayed silent. His eyes were again sad and unfocused and you didn't press him more. However you continued to caress his fur without thinking. Soon enough his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

He slept for the rest of the day. You checked on him before going to the bed, but he was still fast asleep curled up into a ball. That night he seemed to rest peacefully without any haunting dreams.

In the morning when you came down, he was gone.

#tamlin #tamlin x reader #tamlin x you #tamlin acotar #tamlin fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #acotar #spring court #high lord tamlin #high lord of spring court #sarah j maas #tamlinweek #tamlin week #pro tamlin #tamlin angst

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singswan-springswan · 1 month

Text

I just had a fever dream about Jason so y'all gonna have to suffer through me ranting about it buckle up.

literally I just gave him bird wings

In this au he's an "avian" which is not a human... or maybe it is? Anyway just people with bird wings so like. think partial wing au. These "avians" are really rare and I guess functionally they are humans except for the obvious; no powers etc. Maybe they can have kids with humans too idk I'm not worldbuilding 😭

The avian peoples can hide their wings away and shapeshift into humans ig. Their ability to do so varies from individual to individual. Some can do it at will, others have to be triggered to pop them out or bring them in.

Jason can summon his wings at will but he's always had a hard time shifting back to human especially if there's some kind of stressor present. Sometimes he needs to meditate in order to put them away.

His wings were super pretty when he was a kid. When he gets his full plumage it's very light and majestic and glossy and mostly white, with very subtle accents of grey. Sometimes even gold if the sun hits them right. Think marble angel statue etc. Jason is very proud of his wings. He doesn't keep them out all the time, but they sure come in handy during patrol.

He's delighted to be Robin because of the bird theme. Dick is super mad about it.

Jason is kidnapped multiple times for his wings. As you can imagine, there's a big black market for avian products. Probably why there are so few of them :/ anyway he's a scrappy feller so obviously he manages to escape every time, and his efforts improve after all the Robin training. Intrigue about the newest Wayne boy with the pretty wings is borderline vicious. Where did Bruce find such an attractive avian child? Most everyone who recognizes Jason as Bruce's kid ask to see his wings

He likes to wear them around the house because he likes to show them off and he feels comfortable in the Manor. Bruce and Alfred help him preen while he reads or talks about his day and it's great bonding time. Bruce always tells him his wings are beautiful and he should be proud of them and it makes Jason happy. Also, before coming to the Manor Jason had already had a few run-ins with traffickers and is super hesitant to flaunt his feathers but Bruce makes his promise to never lay an unwanted hand on Jason and promises to be gentle with his wings and he is and he's very respectful and treats Jason's wings with reverence every time Jason asks for help taking care of them ouagh. He has a few feathers lying around the house in his study and on his nightstand next to the framed picture of his two sons.

All the Titans compliment Jason's wings and he's blushing so hard the whole time it makes him dizzy

The wings add another layer to the "Robin is magic!" theme

When Jason and Dick get on less hostile terms, Jason makes jokes about Dick being a Flying Grayson despite not being an avian. Dick never takes it well because he's still salty about Jason stealing Robin but at least he's stopped attacking him for it

The "Little Wing" nickname is so much more pertinent now although it serves less as a symbol of Dick's acceptance and more just emphasizing the obvious

Oh no! Jason gets murdered!

The Joker beat him to kriff, but he absolutely desecrated Jason's wings. I'm talking mangled mutilated every bone broken feathers torn out shredded and bloody poor Jason :(

Bruce frames the few feathers he has and cries over them a ton like the unhealthy coping mechanism walking that he is.

Jason never summons his wings after crawling out of his grave. Obviously there's not much to shift into there and he subconsciously knows that exposing himself as an avian is dangerous when Bruce isn't there to protect him

The Lazarus pit heals the scarring on his wings. It takes a while for the feathers to grow back in. The colors change

His new plumage comes in red (womp womp) and Jason is so upset about it because he loved his pretty white feathers that looked like they'd been dipped in champagne and looked innocent and safe. Now his wings are much bigger and scarier and he feels like a different person. Talia tells him he's being dramatic (he is) but also she helps him preen when he can't bring himself to and she teaches him how to fight with the different weight. She also tries to train him to have better control over shifting in and out of them with little success. Maybe it's a classic case of "needing to find inner peace first" lol

Over the course of his time with the League, hints of black begin bleeding in like ink. It looks kinda creepy and Jason hates it even more but Talia teaches him how to use the intimidating factor to his advantage.

Damian draws him whenever he gets the chance. He thinks he's being sneaky.

When Jason decides to go back to Gotham and be a little menace Talia asks him what he's going to call himself. By that point, the black is more prominent, but "Red Hood" still feels aesthetically appropriate.

The Red Hood doesn't show his wings though. It's just a personal poetic symbol for Jason. Keeps him focused on what he's lost and what he's fighting for in the end etc.

His plan proceeds pretty much as canon, everything goes smoothly, Batman's getting thoroughly obsessed, Black Mask is losing his marbles, even that new Replacement Robin is lying low with an up and coming serial killer on a rampage in the Alley.

Then a particular run-in with Batman changes things. Unbeknownst to Jason, Batman's been going down a check-list trying to gather every possible drop of information about Hood (as he does), and of course he has to check if Hood is an avian. like. as an afterthought. They are a pretty rare species, but it's worth checking anyway. How's he going to do that? Glad you asked

Apparently there's a specific move to trigger an avian into revealing their wings. Probably some kind of nerve strike. Bruce learned it while he was in the League because why not. In the middle of his fight with Hood, he manages to sneak the move in, and boom, suddenly Jason's wings are out in all their glory.

As part of the shapeshifting physics we're going to pretend that the wings can pass through clothing. As long as it's flush to the skin. Maybe. So Jason's wings appear beneath his jacket and they're huge and he is very much thrown off balance and caught off guard and of course feeling significantly violated.

Bruce never told him he could do something like that. He's flabbergasted. It's the perfect opening for Batman to subdue him. Which uh.

Of course Batman only knows the Red Hood as a mass murdering crime lord/Rouge adjacent so he's not super gentle. And he knows about the vulnerable parts of an avian's wings do you see where this is going

Jason goes into survival mode because he's high on adrenaline and feeling extremely vulnerable and remember how the Joker treated him? Jason apparently has trauma about other people touching his wings now. He was fine with Talia because he knew that not only did she have no intention of hurting him but she was actively trying to help (in her own weird way). Batman is a different story. They are in the middle of a fight after all. So Jason kinda panics and can't focus on shifting his wings back in meanwhile he's scrambling to try and fend Batman off and protect himself but now that he's off his game Bruce easily overpowers him

Batman gets his wings tied up somehow and it takes everything in Jason not to devolve into a crying pleading heap of feathers. He's lashing out while Batman tries to sedate him. This isn't going the way Jason planned. Eventually Batman has to hold him down because he's thrashing so hard and wow that doesn't resemble the fearsome crime lord from the rumors

Batman ends up grabbing his wings to avoid being bludgeoned and Jason breaks a bone or two in one of them. He fully shrieks at that point. He's always been sensitive about his wings and hated having them restrained and he's scared and irrational and the trauma has him in a stranglehold. Part of it is the fact that Bruce is the one responsible for hurting him. If nothing else, Jason could always count on Bruce being respectful of his wings, so to have him break a bone (never mind that he doesn't know it's Jason) is really rattling

Bruce meanwhile is doing his best to arrest this helmeted freak who thinks it's funny to cosplay as his son's murderer and unwillingly having his heart strings pulled because not only is this villainous man apparently an avian (just like his son) but also Bruce feels slightly bad about using his knowledge of avian vulnerabilities to take him down. ouch. His protective dad mode activates in the subconscious when Hood's desperation to escape becomes glaringly obvious. Batman has to stop himself from asking who hurt you. Wrong thing to say when he is in the process of hurting the crime lord in question

Jason manages to escape somehow. idk exactly. He's resourceful. Anyway he makes his getaway by a hairsbreadth leaving Batman mildly baffled and even more determined than ever to hunt down the Red Hood. He will need to alter parts of his plan. He can't keep running into Batman if Batman's going to force his wings out again. Of course, Talia taught him how to fight with them, but neither of them realized how difficult that would be when fighting Batman dredged up all the trauma yikes

Batman manages to find Hood again and tries to confront him. Jason does not let him get close tells him to stay the heck away and shoots at him to drive the point home because kriff if he's going to repeat that awful experience from last time. He had a Shadow help set his wing and he complained to Talia about it over the phone. after crying. ugly crying. He didn't leave his safehouse for a few days and spent the whole time eating ice cream and crying and reading macbeth.

Bruce updates the file on Red Hood to include his avian species. Tim saw it and said wow how many avians do you find in Gotham what if it's Jason. Bruce did not find that joke funny, Tim. (to be fair, Tim was running on fifty hours without sleep and at least one mug of coffee brewed from Redbull) Bruce goes to bed that night crying holding one of the feathers he kept from Jason's white wings

When the reveal finally comes, I'm thinking it's some ridiculous scenario involving Jason getting knocked out and Batman having to save him and Bruce naturally takes advantage of this opportunity to kidnap Jason and bring him back to the Batcave. He takes the helmet off too. Tim says wow no kidding huh. Then he has to punt the helmet before it can blow up in Bruce's hands because Bruce is well. He's having a moment.

Jason wakes up with his wrist cuffed to his cot in the Cave medbay. He freaks out. He shifts into his wings on instinct and tries to fly away before realizing the bed is too heavy to let him. His weapons have been thoroughly pillaged. He's having another panic attack. rip. Bruce is there and Alfred convinced him to change out of the Batman suit but he's there and he's also having a nervous breakdown. The first thing he does when Jason calms down (gets lightheaded) enough to stop trying to break out of the cuff by brute force or knock everything within range over is apologize for breaking his wing. Jason's having a bad day. He's already got head trauma from whatever knocked him out in the first place and his plans are in shambles and by God he is not supposed to be in the Batcave with a weirdly watery eyed Bruce. Jason just uh. stares at him.

Tim hears the noise and comes rushing in with Alfred at his heels. Tim's doing damage control analysis. Alfred is openly crying and all just "Master Jason" blah blah "it's so good to have you home" he goes to hold Jason's face like a baby and suddenly Jason feels like crying too. His plans are ruined.

Tim's like good now that you're awake what the heck happened to your wings. Jason threatens to slit his throat. Bruce is now also crying because Jason may look different but there's no denying that this defensive rough around the edges street kid is his kid and oh no he broke his wing :(( Jail for father jail for one thousand years etc.

Dick shows up. Bruce called him to inform him that they'd apprehended the Red Hood and that he was in need of medical attention so naturally... they brought him to the Cave (Bruce has a soft spot for avians and he knew that if he handed Hood over to the authorities he would have been taken advantage of). Dick said what the heck is wrong with you Bruce I'm on my way. So he rushed over thinking he was going to walk into a chaotic atmosphere and he wasn't wrong but he wasn't expecting so much crying to be involved. He also has a mental breakdown. You know how it is. Lots of hand tremors. Screaming. Big ugly sobs. Glaring at Bruce demanding to know why he didn't think to tell him his little brother was back from the dead???? *horrified* what happened to your wings? because Jason's wings somehow look even creepier in the light

Jason keeps trying to shift them back in but he can't focus. He feels very exposed and obviously upset. His beautiful perfect plans are ruined :(( He had so many wonderful plans :((( He was going to break the Joker out of Arkham :((((((( And force Bruce to murder him :(((((((((((( looks like that's not happening anymore

Dick attaches himself to Jason with an octopus hug despite Jason's insistence that he will snap Dick's stupid neck. Tim sees his chance to make the situation worse and joins the hug. Jason half-heartedly attempts to push them off

Eventually they remove the cuff even though Jason makes repeated death threats and as soon as he's free he bolts. Doesn't leave the Cave but he needs to get away and gather his wits so he finds a perch near the Cave ceiling (one of many Bruce installed for him back in the day) and refuses to come down. That's fine. Everyone was trying to process the fact that he's alive anyway. Bruce sits on the ground far below and waits the whole time.

Jason is forced to come down by his need to pee. Also Alfred made tea and biscuits and despite Jason's vendetta, he did miss his family. Conversations are had. They fight and say mean things and Jason still can't pull his wings back in but they've reached a consensus. Bruce is in awe the his baby is back. He's willing to do anything to keep him this time around. He tells Jason that his wings are still beautiful (again, sorry for hurting them that one time), and for every bone of yours the Joker broke I'll break one of his just say the word Jay-lad. Tim pipes up didn't you already do that? Bruce says he'll do it as often as Jason wants lol. This man is so unstable. Jason is very touched. He maintains that the Joker is better off dead, but then he can't really hurt people if he's in a body cast so... sure he'll take the win.

When Jason works up the courage to go into the Manor he sees all his old feathers lying around and it makes him oddly happy. He wants to find it weird, and he definitely makes fun of Bruce for keeping them, but secretly he's so touched and he likes having them so he can still see his pretty white feathers.

Jason gives the best hugs. Okay I know Dick is famous for his octopus hugs but Jason's hugs are objectively the best in canon because it feels like Bruce but without the weight of transaction or expectation PLUS Jason has wings now so imagine getting the best hug of your life and then being cocooned in warm fluffy wings on top of that I would die.

Cass comes home and everyone's like ooh update Red Hood turned out to be Jason! This is your little brother btw and she's like ??? yeah I know. They freak out. How did you know Cass. She says dude look at him. and they reexamine the whole Red Hood scheme (aborted) and the fabricated rivalry with Batman and the speech pattern and the strategic maneuvers and the iconic dramatic flair and they're like okay yeah that makes sense. But you never met him Cass you had no point of reference. FOOLS. MUST THE GODDESS JUSTIFY HERSELF TO YOU??

Anyway everything is fine and Damian joins the family and he makes so many paintings of Jason and his portrait is the first one they have framed with Jason and his new wings. Happily ever after

#jason todd #batfam #the red hood #batfam au #batfam wing au #winged jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #tim drake #talia al ghul #damian wayne #cassandra cain #rambling #dc imagine

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

Text

Burn It Down: Alexander 'Tig' Trager x Reader

Tagging: @mortal--soul @yourwinchesterbros @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @nessamc @ritasantosworld @bl4ckt00thgr1n @anime-weeb-4-life @redpoodlern @ravencrow83 @iinky-baby @nu1freakshow @oureternalbond @rubes2323

It’s late when Tig gets the call, his hand reaches out for you as and he’s surprised to find that the bed is empty. You didn’t come home last night, you always come home. There’s a bad feeling stirring in his gut, he stares at your vacant pillow, and it makes something tighten in chest.

“Yea?” He growls into his cellphone, his fingertips rubbing at the space between his eyes.

His brain stumbles over the sentences as Chibs speaks, catching on the words, before he jerks himself out of bed, clambering for the jeans he’s left tossed on the floor.

“There’s been a fire laddie, at Cara Cara. The whole place has been burned to the ground.”

He knows you were working late; he’d dropped in before eleven to check in and ended up spreading you out on your desk, tongue fucking you until you came on his face.

“You work too hard baby,” he’d whispered into your ear, his stubble grazing along the line of your jaw as his fingertips trailed along the inner seam of your jeans. “Let me take care of you for a minute, the stress isn’t good for you.”

You’d promised to return the favour when you got in, you just needed to finish up some of the rough cuts you were been working on. You’d slipped your panties in the front pocket of his jeans in case he couldn’t wait. He’s wrapped them around his cock and jerked off when he’d got back from the clubhouse, leaving the debauched fabric in the laundry hamper.

You’d been busy since Luann’s death, throwing your grief into maintaining the business that she had created, making it flourish. It had been a surprise to them all, including you, that she’d chosen you as her successor. It made sense when Tig thought about it. The two of you had been tight, you were there when she needed someone to keep all of those plates spinning, and she’s picked up the pieces and put you back together in the aftermath of the Ghanezi brothers.

You were dedicated, putting in the same time and the effort as she had. You made sure Otto still received his dues, visited him in prison and kept him up to date with the comings and goings of the outside world. The Sons still turned a legit profit, more so now that no one was skimming off the top. You’d made a couple of changes, Ima was gone, Lyla now a director, you’d moved some of the servers off site because you didn’t like having all of your eggs in one basket. At this point in time, you were all making bank.

The fire’s still blazing by the time he gets there. Charming Fire Department are valiantly trying to put it out but he already knows it’s too late. He can feel the heat from where he’s standing, the smoke curling up towards the sky. It’s an inferno, violent and merciless, devouring everything in it’s path. The stench of burning plastic is in his nostrils, it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue as something inside of him breaks. Chibs is talking to him but it’s just noise, he can’t pick out the words over the roaring in his ears. Agony rips through him, shredding his insides, it feels like he can’t fucking breathe. He launches himself towards the flames, because he saw your car in the parking lot on the way in, he knows you’re in there.

There’s a frenzied wailing in his head, it’s a hoarse scream that makes him feel like he’s channelling a fucking banshee as someone grabs him and tries to haul him back. He fights them, he’s fucking feral, throwing punches, kicking anywhere he fucking can, teeth snapping together because if you’re in there, he wants to be too. He wants the fire to fucking consume him, he wants it to guzzle down his bones and leave nothing but a pile of ashes to be scattered along with yours in Charming Gardens, underneath the blossom tree, the two of you had made love under.

The world fucking tilts and he finds himself hurtling through space and time before he impacts the ground. The air rushes out of his lungs, stunning him as the gravel digs into his back.

“Stop fucking fighting me, ya mad bastard.” Chibs snarls, his gloved hand gripping Tig’s chin so he can focus the other man’s attention. “Stop fighting me and fucking look.”

Tig swears his heart stops beating.

You’re seated on the steps of an ambulance behind the fire truck, an oxygen mask pressed to your mouth and nose as an EMT talks to you. There’s dirt and soot streaked across your face, some of your hair is singed but otherwise you seem intact.

When Chibs releases him he’s already in motion, boots scrambling in the earth as he bolts towards you. His eyes are fucking stinging by the time he gets to you, his hands tremble as he reaches for you, thumbs smoothing over the blush of your cheeks as he presses his forehead against yours.

“I was so fucking scared.” He whispers as you draw the oxygen mask down. “Shit I thought I’d lost you.”

“Chuckie saved me.” Your voice is a rasp, rough and chesty, like a smoker whose only salvation is forty a day. You gesture at the EMT, wrapping Chuckie’s hands in fresh gauze a few meters away in the back of the ambulance. “I had my headphones on, I didn’t even hear them come in. If he hadn’t…”

You trail off and Tig feels his knees go weak as the adrenaline surges out of his system.

If he hadn’t you would have burned to death. He owes Chuck big time.

You cough, it’s a wretched noise that causes your chest to heave at the exertion of it. It scares the living shit out of him. He remembers reading somewhere that more people die of smoke inhalation than the actual fire itself.

“This is going back on.” He says, grasping the plastic oxygen mask and guiding it back over your mouth and nose. You inhale deeply, he watches as your chest expands and contracts before it relaxes once more into a natural rhythm.

He drops down onto the steps of the ambulance alongside of you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he draws you as close as humanly possible. The tension ebbs out of your body as you press your cheek to his chest and listen to the sound of his heartbeat through the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re alright.” He reassures you, his lips brushing over your hairline. “I promise you sweetheart, everything’s gonna be alright.”

Love Tig? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#alexander trager #alexander trager soa #alexander trager x you #alexander trager x reader #tig soa #tig trager fanfic #tiggy #tig trager x reader #tig trager

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xxcallmemaryxx · 11 months

Text

Dewdrop x GNreader.

Everyone knew that Dewdrop was a dangerous and impulsive creature that set things alight with every step he took. But you saved him.

There's a specific kind of trust that comes along with the games Dewdrop likes to play with you. He's an impulsive creature, anybody with a set of eyes would be able to tell that much. Maybe that's why he always came back to you.

Hundreds of years he has spent on this earth, always finding the next thing to do. Something to quell that heat that builds in his chest when he dwells on something for too long. He gets antsy. He gets shitty. It scored him his reputation. Which only added to the fire that grows in his being if he was to sit on something for a moment too long. It's something his fellow ghouls have spent what’s felt like eons trying to break. But it embedded itself into Dew's life before he even realised it. Sinking its filthy claws into the back of his brain, only to linger and fester into a side of Dewdrop that he struggles to control. The bigger the band got, the deeper those claws sunk. All too quickly he found himself unable to extinguish his urges, the impulsive thoughts that struck his mind were spewing out through his actions before he was able to process them. It was damaging. All too quickly that's just what people expected of him. Fans, Siblings of Sin…. even his own band mates had accepted the fact that that was just who Dewdrop was. Which inevitably, cemented the reality that he wasn't able to change. There was a very small part of him that longed to rid himself of this outrageous person he'd morphed into.

Once upon a time he existed without the fire. He remembers it, as if it were some vague dream that he'd had many years ago. Bits and pieces returning to the front of his mind just to taunt him. It's quiet. It's slow. There's no heat. He just exists. He often found himself chasing that silence. It would disappear quicker than what it had appeared. Leaving him with a hole in his lungs while trying to breathe himself back to reality.

He got lonely. Sure he was surrounded by people. But those people expected to see a side of him he was sick of showing. He craved just one. One moment. One small shred of quiet. He often considered throwing his whole life away just to feel it again. To hold onto it. No more running. No more chasing. No more searching, yearning, longing, reaching for something he just can't grasp. It was devastating.

But you.

You.

You terrified him. Still do sometimes, but not in the way one would assume. He didn't want to run. He didn't want to hide. He actually welcomed you, with wide open arms. That, was what terrified him. The idea alone that he was so drawn to you; a singular human being. Something so breakable, so easy to ruin… yet you ruined him with a simple smile. He wanted you. Not just to mess around with, he'd spent a lifetime messing around. He wanted to win you over, he wanted to impress you, he wanted you to want him just as much. He took his time with you. And he would have spent the rest of forever, and even beyond that, taking his time with you. But you rewarded his efforts, you let him in, and you introduced him to the very thing he’d been trying to find for so long.

The only way he can describe it, is as if he had been drowning and you pulled him out of the deep end and breathed life back into him. Or if he had been pushed off a building, and you caught him before he hit the ground. Dew feels like he won't ever be able to find the right words to tell you that you saved him, but what he doesn't realise is that they are literally right there. You saved him. And he will forever be in your debt, but you don't let him dwell on it for too long.

Although you managed to put out one fire in Dewdrop's life, you always find a way to light another. Except this fire is vastly different, in fact Dewdrop likes this one.

It's in the way you look at him. He swears he sees a pyre in your eyes, lit up with pure adoration and love for him as if you’d been sent up from hell by the devil himself. It's in the way you proudly show him off to anyone who is close enough to see. It's in that cheeky smile of yours that brings him to his knees whenever he is lucky enough to catch sight of it.

But fuck… if its anything, its in the way you hand yourself over to him with such confidence. Your shared bed is a sacred space that he shares with nobody but you. He refuses to let anybody or anything corrupt the energy the two of you conjure while you're in it. The sounds he can rip from you, the way your body molds into his, the unbroken bond the two of you have created between each other in this very room alone is beyond anything he has ever experienced. He is very protective of his relationship with you, and the trust you have in him when you let yourself go beneath him. You let him ravish you. You let him devour you. You let him pluck every miniscule thought right out of your mind with each kiss he plants on your heated skin, with each caress of his hands on your beautiful body, with every little praise that falls from his lips.

During these moments, when the world outside of your locked bedroom door doesn't exist to either of you anymore, the truth is that you showed him that he was deserving of change. The change that everyone around him convinced him he was not capable of. The change that he had been chasing, he found it in you. The way you breathe his name, the way you carry his scent, just in the way you love him is everything he has ever needed. You put out the dangerous fire that was Dewdrop, you ripped the claws of self doubt and rage right out of his head and you filled the gaps in his lungs with everything you had to offer.

You saved him.

#the band ghost #ghost band #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop #nameless ghouls x reader #dewdrop x reader #marys musings

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onecantsimply · 8 months

Note

Hellooo me again! Can I request something else if it’s okay?

Yandere!JTR with a shy & introverted S/O who is *very* oblivious to Jack’s true nature (as a killer) as is incredibly sweet to him? Like; constantly invites them out to do fun things together, hugs him, kisses his cheek (in a platonic or slightly romantic way, you choose!) they’re so close to each other that his S/O has already introduced him to their family and S/O’s mom thinks he’s such a gentleman!

hhh!! I’m sorry I just really like your content 🥺💕💕

Request as much Yandere JTR stuff as you want- I’ll be there to write it when or if I can-

• Honestly, bonding with you took way too much time and effort, but he never viewed it as not worth it. In fact, the interesting things about you that drew him in kept him pulled close to you, especially as you came out of your shell.

• The internal colors you had whilst he was with you was utterly pure. You felt safe around him. You felt jovial. You felt as if you could finally act how you’d like around him.

• Perhaps that was something that he loved you for? The colors of safety and vulnerability was easy to take advantage of, which is why he’s always around you, protecting you 24/7 as if he’s a bodyguard.

• This has definitely led to interactions with him, you, and your parents. Jack was a complete gentleman to them, as well as you. He acted much more polite around them, considering he didn’t want to bring tolerant chaotic energy to the table.

• And good news. They love him. They want you two together-

• Jack could feel himself eyeing you upon hearing this. Yet, the bliss that had completely swallowed his heart made his chest churn with bliss and infatuation for you.

• This is what he could have… You as a lovely partner for him, and your parents as supporting figures… He couldn’t ask for anything more. In fact, this is the very thing he’s needed, but never knew he wanted.

• He seemed to freeze up the moment he felt a gentle kiss to the cheek from you, as well as you linking arms with him. Jack slowly eyed you once more.

• He couldn’t decipher which color was which anymore. He was too stunned to do anything. “The man was too stunned to speak”, as well as him being too stunned to even do anything but stand still in an infatuated light.

• Though, later on, he saw the most platonic of colors within you. That pretty much made his heart crack a little, but he wanted to make you love him.

• That meant that he was smothering you even further, protecting you from any other man (even if it had meant secretly getting rid of them in alleyways), and making sure you had slowly gotten out of your shell of shy and introverted behavior.

• Jack was there within every step. He wanted to make sure you were okay. He held your hand, and enjoyed every single hug you gave him. They gave him a warmth he was starting to crave. Especially the kisses to the cheek. Jack could always feel himself getting stunned for a few moments before he looks at you with a shocked Pikachu face.

• You don’t know how much he wants to kiss you right now, and it’s pretty much taking over Jack’s brain at one point-

• And the fact that you always drag him to certain events, with him enjoying every single one with you… Yeah… That man is completely love struck, and there is absolutely nothing that can wipe his feelings away-

• The fact that he wants you completely safe with him is because of his job as an assassin as well. Everything within London may look nice, but none of it is sunshine and rainbows. So the fact that you, a completely pure person, is here in a hellhole like this, is something that Jack wants to change.

• He knows he works on his mercenary job. And he knows you aren’t aware of it. Because if you did, the either platonic or romantic feelings you had for him would be torn to shreds, and Jack would never want to have that happen. He’ll drag you back if he needs to.

• So, as a disguise, Jack decided to put his “job” as your protector in a playful manner. You had easily taken that answer in the same manner, giving Jack the smile he’s loved for so long.

• To some people that know who Jack really is, it’s disgusting to see him act like a killer that craves both your attention and the colors of fear, then to a man that wants nothing but to love and protect you.

• Red Widow is one of those people lmao. She already hated him in the first place, so she hates him even more now because he might drag you into assassin mess.

• Noah knows. He fucking knows, and he feels glad for Jack- But one step out of the line, and he’ll make sure war is waged-

• Jack honestly has no care for the either of them. As long as you’re safe. As long as you’re still the person he’s always loved. As long as you’re here with him.

• Honestly, in assassin jobs, he might vent some frustrations whilst putting someone in fear. Whether that be injuring them or having them hear what he has to say.

• “Ah… I can’t read if their color is platonic or romantic… It’s just melting together, and I can’t tell of it at all…” Jack muttered whilst currently choking someone out.

• And he can do much worse if he wanted. He did a few times, in which, he may have gotten covered in blood after that, but he feels slightly relieved that he’s vented the frustrations out.

• And the next day, he’s completely normal again, listening to you with infatuated eyes as you talk about something. Watching with butterflies in his stomach as you grab his hand and pull him somewhere you’ve wanted to go for a while. Feeling nothing but love whenever you hug him as tight as you can. Feeling flustered but hopeful when your parents say for you two to get together already.

• Yet, those platonic, yet romantic colors of love keep flooding his vision. He grows irritated with it, considering he doesn’t exactly know what to do with it. So, he decided to simply confess.

• He confessed every bit of feelings he had, but never the atrocities he’s committed for you. There was half hope you’d accept him, but half knowledge that you’d reject him.

• So to have his hopes win was something he was eternally glad for. To get a gentle but genuine kiss to the lips was something that made him smile.

• He felt nothing but overjoyed throughout the entire day. Or rather, every time he had saw you. He could hold your hand without nervous emotion. He could hug you as close as he wants and he protective for good reason- Jack could get dragged around more-

• While he could kill more… that doesn’t feed in with the energy lmao-

• Honestly, he has much better reason to kill though. He knows there’s no way of shielding it, and that you’d figure out how obsessed he is with you, as well as the extent he’d go just to keep you by his side. But he can’t have anyone potentially taking you away.

• After all, he has vows to say in a few years-

• So he needs to keep you with him as long as it takes, whatever the cost-

• Additionally… it feels so nice to get rid of someone that’s potentially wanted to take you away from him… So nice to see the fear in their eyes as they try to run or fight back. Naturally, Jack could never go for the pain. He’d go for the fear.

• But this time… he’s went for both, speaking of how they shouldn’t have even looked at you.

• In short, he’s a completely different person with you and with others. But, who says you mind? You never figured out anything he does, especially since he’s around you practically 90% of the time.

• He’d be glad to have you move in with him and sleep in the same bed. He can have his eye on you more, and he could whisper how much he loves you whilst keeping your warm figure in his arms to keep safe.

• Jack never wants to let this go. And he’ll be damned if something happens to you or the relationship you two have.

• He already has everything planned out, so if something shatters it… there will be Hell in London-

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #jack the ripper #jack the ripper record of ragnarok #jack the ripper x reader #snv jack the ripper #ror jack the ripper #jack the ripper ror #yandere jack the ripper x reader

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the-sunshine-dims · 9 days

Note

malitae making a sculpture and/or quilt for quixis that already looks odd and mismatched so that they don't need to worry about wacking it when they touch it

awwwhhh,, i hold them so gently, at every aspect of that, (a sculpture that specifically from Malitae has such care embedded in it, in the meaning, and wanting them to see and enjoy it, not worry about accidentally 'messing it up' and maybe even inviting them to change it, encouraging them to use it as their form of expression should they ever wish)

(and the image of M making Q a quilt,, fitting as many patterns in it as possible, just to try the techniques out, and because even if it changes he thinks Q would like it, would find the design as cool as M, even if for just a moment, and wouldn't it be fascinating to see what the squares and shapes of fabric become? and wouldn't Malitae hate to send Quixis back to the cold too-colorless place they described without a blanket for warmth and a pop of color? (it would be nice for when they do have to leave, to send Q back with a reminder they don't just ruin everything, because even if the blanket decays- even if Quixis is worried it will just shred into pieces unnaturally to its little-use and they'll lose the kind effort Malitae put in, Malitae will just make them another one- different and unique and with many flaws that xe expertly puts in, because they like making things for people, even if its only used for a short time, becuase at least it was used))

(and maybe quixis would ask for materials and try and return the favor, and its not the same quilt as it was when they started, but it would be something for the two of them to stay on the island, always something to go back to, and Malitae would treasure the thing that was given to them, another addition they didnt make to the island, and they find it wonderful)

#I'm just trying to make a grilled cheese and your making me think about kaleidoscope and- i cant complain #me when them #i hold them like ha.mburge.r they are everything #fsmp kaleidoscope #fable smp #villainsally #fins asks

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paraliveimaginesblog · 6 months

Note

39 from kiss prompts with Yuto please <3

(Sort of has spoilers for the newest drama track; kept it vague tho!)

Yuto Inukai

39. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

The day had been exhausting.

Yuto had stepped outside to smoke while the other three had finally settled in, fast asleep with stomachs full on Yuto’s dime. Somehow, that had been the highlight of his day, getting robbed in broad daylight but getting to bask in the laughter and good moods of his team. After the day they had, they deserved a break, even if it left Yuto wondering how he might survive the rest of the week.

This overwhelming anger sat heavy on his chest as he recalled the earlier incident. Not just Shion, but Ryoga as well, were subject to an unnecessary cruelty; Yuto had seen their fight to change, to consider their future and yet they were still treated like it wasn’t enough. Maybe it was true that their path to rehabilitation was far from over, but shouldn’t their efforts be recognized? When he got worked up like this is when his blackouts happened, yet he remained entirely too aware of the rage coursing through his veins.

It was quick to turn to despair, asking himself honestly if anything would ever change. Was he having any effect on his team? Or was he even good enough to inspire this change in them? His heart ached yet his thoughts were blank, unable to find a remedy for what ailed him most.

Yuto had only given you a hint of what occurred earlier that day, not going into much detail before he stopped replying altogether. You expected to get more of an update during your daily nightly call with him yet the minutes ticked on and your phone had a severe lack of notifications. If he was upset with what happened earlier, you could predict that he was caught up in his thoughts, probably out in the cold night air smoking a cigarette and feeling sorry for himself. You supposed it was your right as his lover to give a little late-night visit, if not just to assure yourself that little Kenta hadn’t torn him to literal shreds yet.

When you approached, you could see that he was lost in his thoughts, his cigarette nearly completely burned out, likely to touch his fingertips if he didn’t put it out soon. You took it from his hand and threw it to the ground yourself, stomping it out as Yuto’s eyes came back into focus. He looked at you like you were a ghost, his face even paler in the moonlight as he scrambled to retrieve his phone, which was placed on silent in his back pocket. He almost bowed in apology but his attempted movement was stopped when you placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a tilted head and a questioning look.

“Yuto…” He wished you didn’t call his name so sweetly; it was like when someone finally asked a person who had been wallowing in self-pity all day long what was wrong. A dam had broken and he could no longer hold back, the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes as he felt this might be a new pathetic low for him.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered out weakly, “I’m not… I don’t think I’m strong enough—”

“Now, now,” You chided him gently, cupping his cheek with one hand and pulling him close to you. “You don’t have to cry, I promise, things aren’t as bad as they seem.”

Bold words, coming from someone who didn’t know what had gone down that day, but even he was kept in the dark about the latter half of it. His anxiety spiked again as he worried about what he might have said or done while he wasn’t fully aware, the tears streaking down his cheeks in another sad scene. You tried not to let it get to you, no matter how much it hurt seeing him distressed like this, going back and forth between kissing his cheeks to catch his tears. You almost treated it like a game, seeing how many you could kiss away before they slid completely down his chin, and you earned a chuckle out of him before the water works were finally plugged up.

“Do you feel a little better now?”

“A little.” Yuto agreed, holding your hands to his wet face, not willing to part with your warmth and comfort yet. “Thank you for visiting.”

“Oh, always a pleasure.”

You knew that you weren’t going to learn what happened that night, but whoever was responsible for Yuto’s tears was going to have an unhappy awakening when you finally got your hands on them.

#Paradox Live #Paralive #Paradox Live Imagines #Paralive Imagines #Paradox Live x Reader #Paralive x Reader #Yuto Inukai #Inukai Yuto #Yuto Inukai x Reader #Scenario #Kiss Prompts

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itsabouttimex2 · 10 days

Note

Amazing job at writing the new part as always! It flows nicely and you can easily tell how familiar Macaque & MC without making him OOC. Honestly i admire your grasp at these characters and ability of doing something as complex as interactive series. I'm kinda curious how do you plan things and how far ahead but only if you want to share it ofc.

Going back to the actually piece- it actually made me look up the meanings of flowers despite the original thought of it only being because of the color association. Two first flowers have pretty easy and basic meaning. I can see why the edgy (/affectionate) mentor wouldn't want them near his home.

Freesia - friendship trust innocence

yellow roses - friendship, joy and similar stuff

The one choosen by Macaque are a little more interesting.

Tansies - immortality, resistance, "I declare against you", sometimes used in medicine

black dahlias - (warning of) betrayal, sadness, (not specified black ones: dignity, good luck, elegance)

I'm guessing the tansies are about him being bitter about the Wukong and their more practical use. Black dahlias could be about Monkey King but also some kind of foreshadowing depending on our choice. Or I'm reading into it too much.

Hopefully I'm not overthinking it or completely missing the point (and if i am, I'm really,really sorry). Just wanted to share it in case other readers didn't look it up + i know some people like to see their work analysed but if i'm going to far please let me know! Have a good day/night! :]

(Sorry for any mistakes and feel free to delete the ask)

Oh my god, thank you so much! That’s such a sweet thing to say! (Please never stop analyzing my work I put a lot of effort into it💜💜)

🌻🌻I’ll start with flowers: you are right on the money here. Freesia especially are bright and colorful blooms, coming in many different gorgeous colors. Yellow roses are just the same, bright and cheery and so similar to the sun.

And, given that freesia come in orange and yellow… it’s possible the potted plants were a living reminder of Sun Wukong that Macaque finally got sick of and ripped apart. Or he just took advantage of someone else shredding the innocent flowers and took something that Y/N worked hard on and changed it to his liking instead. (Written to be ambiguous as to which scenario occurred.)

Notably, the new flowers not only match his own personal feelings, but even his color scheme! Yellow, then red and black. Twice over do these flowers symbolize him, something he took and changed to make more suitable to his tastes and feelings.

But he’s not the one who takes care of them- no, it’s Y/N who is dedicated to seeing them grow.

His student tending and nurturing the flowers that represent Macaque, while Macaque destroys/allows the destruction of the flowers that represent his student. Huh. Funny.

Okay flower rant done.🌻🌻

Macaque is such an interesting character to write, given that there’s a spike of cruelty barbing out from almost every action he takes. I think a lot of people have forgotten that the man hasn’t had a redemption arc in canon- he displays zero regret for, say… manipulating and trying to kill MK. Or leveling the Dragon Palace of the East Sea. Or assaulting Tang, a strict non-combatant. Or holding Mei’s life hostage.

He doesn’t feel bad for doing any of these. If he does, he’s keeping tight-lipped about it. No apologies. No direct atonement.

And even on the extremely rare circumstance that he’s being “kind”, like deciding to stop torturing MK in Shadowplay, it comes across as almost “I’m bored with you, you aren’t fun anymore.”

He’s not a good guy. So even with Y/N, who he genuinely does care for, there’s this level of manipulation.

Like, he calls Y/N adorable, which sounds nice… but there’s almost a level of victim-blaming to it. No matter how roundabout his words, Macaque basically says to his own student: “If you looked different, people wouldn’t bother you, so let me change the way you look.”

And they trust him enough to agree.

Or letting them cook in fear outside his door when he’s clearly near enough to open it, but dropping the act when they start to break down.

He’s such an interesting character to write ugh I love it.

I had a lot of the routes planned pretty far out, actually, and I’ll give a few examples of what was planned:

Spider Demon Y/N was sort of naive and excitable, but was going to mature/sour after realizing that their beloved queen was, in fact, the bad guy. They were going to have to come to terms with her necessary defeat and their own part in betraying her, as well as living on after you’ve cut ties to your family. Then, readers were going to be able to pick one other henchman to convince to join the heroes.

Dragon Y/N was going to have to both gain Ao Guang’s (their father) approval to live on the surface, and decide how they felt about MK possessing the Ruyi Jingu Bang. They fought using two strings of beaded pearls, utilizing them as whips and grappling hooks to maneuver around the battle field. Also, they hated Macaque. Genuinely throwing hands on sight if they saw that edgy rat.

Heir/Proxy Y/N was going to be a pretty miserable and clingy person, having spent most of their life alone on account of both the LBD and Mayor’s influence. Overcoming their fears and anxieties of being unlovable was going to be a massive part of the journey, learning to love themself and be loved in turn. They were going to have to learn to master the powers forcibly implanted into their body, trying to prevent themself from being sacrificed for power to aid LBD’s onwards path to ‘destiny’.

Ne Zha’s Y/N was going to be cute and polite, very excited to explore the mortal realm outside the grasp of their overprotective mentor/brother. They were also going to have to deal with the first two lotus princes (also overprotective) and Ao Bing, who served as a dear friend.

Sun Wukong’s Y/N was going to be his estranged child who was bitter over ML inheriting the staff instead of them. They were going to despise him for never training them, having to find masters and teachers elsewhere all across the world. In turn, he was desperately trying to make amends and reestablish a strong bond with his cherished progeny, hoping to reconnect eventually.

Also Mei was going to call Y/N “Broth-Face”.

#Time Talks #Choose Your Own Adventure #A Brand New Journey

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