#the blog's dead but it's worth coming alive for!

[socheckitout-mikey]

i really love fright night 2011 so here's some much needed jerry dandridge hc's! i hope you enjoyed these. lemme know what you thought of them! - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

disclaimer: THERE ARE 18+ PARTS IN THIS PIECE SO MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!! YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!!!!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Dating Jerry Dandridge (2011) Hc's:

° "Dating" is a very stretched word when it comes to Jerry. Being a vampire makes it impossible for him to love like a human would, because of his dark nature having warped him greatly over the years. It's more probable for him to "possess" you as he views you more like a human pet than an actual partner. After all, he is much stronger, faster and possesses far more superior abilities.

° However, just because he can't love like a human, doesn't mean he won't have the outside world believing he can't. To everyone else you seem like a normal, happy and loved up couple. But truthfully,- behind closed doors -, you're anything but that. Jerry is excellent at deceiving, almost to the point that when you're in public, you seem to forget yourself. Even now he takes pleasure in deceiving you, but truthfully it's more for the necessity of keeping up appearances: Your gullible nature is just an added bonus.

° Jerry most likely had the intention of turning you to replenish his ranks, but he found you more resourceful alive... for now that is.

° For instance, you probably will fall into the role of being a daytime protector of sorts for Jerry. Your job is to ensure that pesky nosed neighbours (particularly teenage brats like Charlie) don't go digging where they shouldn't. You need to take your job seriously, otherwise it puts Jerry at risk; and when Jerry is at risk, he gets extra grouchy.

° But you're good to him - usually -. Now where that at first was out of necessity, currently it is due to some strange culmination of love and fear. Jerry rewards you plentifully in many ways (usually with his boundless sex appeal), but he also knows how to punish you. You long ago stopped attempting to escape him, accepting your fate that you're stuck with Jerry. You know only two outcomes will come from this: Death or Rebirth.

° However he does like to spice things up a bit. He doesn't like you always being a goody-goody.

° Even though Jerry is a cruel creature of the night, and where he is dark and terrifying, there are also good things about him. He can make you feel on top of the world, like you're the only person that matters - so long as you never interfere with his quest to form and expand his tribe of vampires.

° With that I will add that Jerry also does not allow his fledgling vampires to go anywhere near you. Fraternizing with you of any accord is prohibited, because (for now) you are worth more to him alive than dead or immortal. This is solely why you're never allowed in the basement or in the home yourself. In all honesty, Jerry has really grown fond of you. The thought of you dying no longer appeases him. He wants you safe and sound... Well as safe and sound as you can be whilst in his clutches. He does like to have fun with you.

° Following off that point, Jerry is actually extremely protective of you. Anyone dumb enough to mess with you (even mildly) will be dealt with accordingly (and my friend, it gets very messy indeed).

° God forbid if any of his fledgling tribe members are dumb enough to attack you (particularly if they have escaped without his knowledge). They're given the special treatment of being catapulted into the fiery pits of Hell much sooner than he would have originally wanted. But that's what they get for defying his rules.

° We also know already that Jerry is possessive of you. You're his, no one else's. So lets say a clueless person tries to flirt with you - you know they're not going to live much longer. Hell, after Jerry has grown fond of you, he may struggle to understand harmless small talk for genuine romantic interest. Where he can happily dish out all of the flirtatious charm to his female prey, he does not appreciate if someone else showers you in the same treatment. God forbid if you reciprocate it too when he hasn't asked you to. You know, for the means of strategy to bring more people into his immortal club.

° In public, Jerry is very hands on with his PDA. Almost to the point where it can become gross and somewhat sleazy (depending on what role he is playing in the new town or city). It never fails to make you laugh, though as he flirts with you. He makes you feel forever alive.

° One thing is for certain, you never have to fear anyone or anything when Jerry is in your life. The only danger you really need to worry about is him - so you have more than a healthy dose of fear. Not that he would harm you, but Jerry has quite the temper - one that you'd much prefer to steer clear of. So when he's in one of his moods when things aren't going to plan, you stick to another area of the house or tend to the garden out back when the rays of sunshine prohibit him from going outside.

° Your relationship is going to be mainly physical, but that's only because that's how Jerry's able to show his "love" for you. His fondness is shown through sex and there's a lot of it. There's just something about the way you attempt to swat him away, but yet you beg for more shortly after that stirs up something crazy in him. He has to remember to pace himself so he doesn't break you - no matter how tempting the latter is.

° With all of his sleazy charm and physicality, he does have some soft moments. Those are more reserved for special moments or times where you're both alone - safe from the nosy eyes and ears of others. It's not that they're impossible to manifest, but that it usually takes something for them to occur. Examples could be; after a dangerous moment that you both narrowly missed, you have been very good for him for an extended period of time, etc.

° He much prefers to tease you though. He's very good at it, and is awfully witty. He also likes it when you tease him back about the persona he shows the outside world. He likes the banter you share - even for a human you've got some spice to you, and Jerry likes his partner spicy.

° Another thing he likes to do is scare you. Typically in the jump scare fashion. You never know when it'll happen, but it never fails to scare the hell right out of you. He also enjoys chasing you too. There's just something about psychological terror that turns him on endlessly. He has a naturally high prey drive, but attached to that is also a sexual appetite unlike any other. Your specific brand of fear exhibits a scent he's grown both used to and extremely fond of. He never gets bored of it though. That's most likely because he savours it, providing a game of how long he can keep himself from quenching his thirst the traditional way. You're almost too good not to eat.

° Following from that point, it really is true that he doesn't feed from you in a traditional sense. It's hard for him to control himself, but driving his fangs into your flesh, placing his lips on your wounds or simply licking said wounds can turn you. Vampirism is spread through his saliva in open wounds, much like a parasite infecting someone. This makes it hard when he gets your blood pumping or when you have clumsy moments like when you accidentally get cut, etc. He's grown better at fighting the urge - even though your eyes beg him to bite you.

° Instead he settles for blood letting. He pours it right into a crystal glass. It almost amuses you how he devours it, licking the rim of the glass clean before sticking his finger inside the glass to get to those hard to reach places. You don't really get why he does it, but that's just a testament to your mortality and aversion for consuming blood.

° Speaking of your blood, it doesn't disappoint. It's a treat he enjoys savouring as he doesn't get it often - when he isn't being greedy. Bonus points if you were frightened just before he consumed it. He just has to repay the favour… over and over again. Fear is the greatest flavour to a vampire.

° After he tends to any of your wounds. If he has taken too much, then there's that softer part of him that will take care of you. Your diet is rich in iron and other vitamins that help keep your blood and health strong. Where this first came from a necessity to keep you alive, he now does so out of fondness. You may not understand it much, protesting that you can take care of yourself, Jerry won't hear of it. It's his ritual after all, one of the only moments where he can show a softer part of him to you. To convey that in his strange way he might actually love you.

° Jerry is four hundred years old. He knows many things and if you're willing, he passes his knowledge onto you. He's a bored immortal though, so he likes to mess with you, but over time you become less gullible. In his eyes, if you wanted to know more about these things then you should have come into his life when he wasn't bored and so twisted. He knows though that one day he'll mellow out again and by that time, you'll be immortal; so he has all the time in the world to teach you things.

° I think with you around, Jerry is more likely to actually sleep throughout the day. You find it strange that he heads to the basement, but you just think he has a coffin down there since there's no bed upstairs. That is until you realise he sleeps in the literal ground when he rises with dirt covering him head to toe.

° There is absolutely no digging your pesky, mortal nose in the basement or in his private room of his tribes knowledge. He only let's you see the latter when he trusts you enough not to run and tell the entire world. The former isn't until he's ready to turn you into a vampire. So in this case, curiosity would definitely kill the cat - the cat being you. It's best to remain in your jurisdiction.

° If he finds you digging, he considers that meddling and he's not privy to nosy people. If you haven't angered him enough, then he won't kill you, but he may punish you. Especially if you rise up against him with the likes of Charlie...

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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requests: open!

#jerrrydandridge #jerry dandridge #jerry dandridge headcanons #jerry dandridge imagines #jerry dandridge x reader #fright night 2011 #fright night 2011 headcanons #fright night 2011 imagines #fright night 2011 jerry dandridge #fright night 2011 jerry dandridge headcanons #fright night 2011 jerry dandridge imagines #fright night 2011 jerry dandridge x reader #fright night jerry dandridge #fright night jerry dandridge headcanons #fright night jerry dandridge imagines #fright night jerry dandridge x reader #i hope you enjoyed these!

[jasntodds]

Alive | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: yes, here

Summary: Red Hood shows up at your apartment only to reveal he's your not-so-dead boyfriend

Warnings: Swearing, 18+, smut, some fluff, mentions of death, mentions of canon drug use (he's not actually high in this but it's mentioned)

Words: 3,412

A/n: A huge thank you to @tenpintsof-sundrop for the idea 😭 please go check them out if you haven't already!! This kept turning into angst (why can't I just write fluff and smut ffs) which is why it took forever I'm so sorry to the anon who requested this lol but there's no angst!! If you wanna be tagged in my fics, you can click the link below, send me an ask/comment, or follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary and turn on notifications if you prefer that!!

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Gotham’s city lights are the only thing illuminating parts of your room where your curtains don’t quite close all of the way. The sounds of distant sirens and passing cars echo into your room as you’re finally getting some much-needed sleep. Bruce called you three days ago with the news about Jason. Nothing really seems worth the energy anymore, including sleep but tonight it’s as if your body finally caved under the pressure of grief. But, you’re not asleep long before something wakes you up.

You stir awake to the sound of creaking near the window. Your eyes shoot open as you keep on your side, facing the opposite direction. Your heart starts to thunder and you swear you locked that window. It’s Crime Alley in Gotham City, you always lock your door and window. Jason even got you good locks for your window and your door. Someone can’t possibly be breaking in but that’s the only explanation. 

You reach to the side of the bed, slowly, careful not to make quick and harsh movements so whoever is in your home doesn’t realize you’re awake. The metal of the baseball is cold against the palm of your hand as your fingers curl around the handle. It’s not a knife or a gun, but a metal baseball can kill and incapacitate all the same. All you need is one really good swing and you’re good to go. So, you suck on a deep breath, gripping the handle as hard as you can before you sit up quickly, turning around on your knees to face the intruder.

“Get out of my apartment!” You yell, baseball bat swung over your shoulder with your arms ready to swing the second he comes close enough.

He takes a step forward into the light coming from your window and your heart drops. 

Red Hood.

Why the fuck is Red Hood, Gotham’s newest crime lord, standing in your apartment?

“Don’t freak out.” He says, the voice modulator disguising his voice.

You almost laugh at the request. He’s killing people out there and is ruthless but he doesn’t want you to freak out when he’s standing in your bedroom? That makes perfect sense. And why does it have to be your apartment? There are so many other ones he could have picked but it just had to be yours.

Jason is careful as he takes the helmet off, revealing himself to you. Your eyes grow wide as your jaw starts to fall open. Jason can see your grip on the bat start to loosen as his chest starts to swell. He always questioned your choice of a baseball bat, thinking you'd never wake up with enough time to grab it and defend yourself. He's happy he was clearly very wrong.

“You…you died…?” You question, almost certain you’re dreaming.

Bruce Wayne himself called you and told you Jason had been killed. You knew he was Robin and it was all over Gotham City News. Robin had been killed by the Joker. But, Jason Todd is currently standing in front of you, his chest moving with every breath which means he's alive.

He's desperately trying not to think about dying. That's not why he came here anyway. It wasn't to discuss the gorey details of a deranged clown with a bloody crowbar. It was just to see you and let you know he was alive. That is it. No more reminders of dying, not tonight. Not when he isn't high enough to numb the panic or pain of the thoughts. All he wants to do is see you and exist in a moment with just you and him.

“Didn’t stick.” Jason chuckles softly, holding the helmet on his hip.

There’s something Jason would describe as a chortle escapes your lips. “Didn’t stick?”

Jason shrugs his shoulder easily but there’s still some tension wrapped around his bones. “Yeah.” Jason clears his throat, looking to the floor and then back to you, thinking you probably don't believe him. Who would?

“How though?” You ask and you’re not sure how this is real.

Maybe you think you’re actually hallucinating now. Maybe grief has sucked you into insanity. But he sounds just as you remember and he looks the exact same. Jason dying and coming back as Red Hood, still fighting crime in some way, does sound like a very Jason Todd thing to do.

“Gotham.” Jason scoffs. “It’s a long story.” Jason skimps on the details, partially because he doesn’t really know how it works and also just to keep you out of it. He didn’t really like that you knew he was Robin anyway. Too dangerous.

Jason takes a step forward as you watch him closely. Maybe it’s a dream. But, it’s Gotham City and the weirdest and most unbelievable shit tends to happen here.  Jason being resurrected isn’t actually the most insane thing you’ve heard of happening. It's just one of those things that's hard to believe because losing him hurt so bad you swore you'd never recover. You want to be positive it's him before you let your hopes up even if they're rising like a steady tide. Jason can see the hesitance the way your brows are still creased and the bat still hanging over your shoulder.

“Not convinced?” He asks through a shallow breath, his own hopes falling.

He didn't really think of what he'd do if you didn't believe him.

“In my defense, this is insane.” You state as your grip tightens on the bat. "I mean, resurrection or being zombified, kind of insane."

Jason lets out a sigh as he starts listing things only he would know about you and only things you would know about him. He tells you about your first date which wasn’t anything fancy but was yours. He told you about how he has his half of a photobooth picture you two took on your third date as a bookmark. And he tells you about Alred teaching him how to make chocolate chip cookies his first week at Wayne Manor because Jason couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet in the manor.

“I also told you the bat was a shitty idea because you’d never wake up in time to grab it.” Jason offers a smirk.

“Guess you were wrong.” You point out with a teasing look.

“Yeah,” Jason scoffs. “But you didn’t take a swing so…” Jason shrugs his shoulders, a grin splitting his face.

“Haha.” You scrunch your nose with the sarcastic remark. "I'm not gonna just hit someone with a bat." You shake your head dramatically.

"I broke into your apartment?" Jason lets out a chortle "I mean, don't fucking hit me now but someone breaks in, do something, babe."

"Oh, it must really be you because only Jason Todd would criticize my weapon of choice and then criticize what I do about someone breaking in my own apartment." You quip right back as you place a hand on your hip, the bat now hanging loosely over your shoulder being held with just one hand.

Jason's smirk turns softer, a gentle smile pulling at his lips as he looks to the floor and then back to you. "Yeah, it's me." His shoulders move forward as he sucks in a breath, letting it out slowly as if the very act of breathing too hard might make all of this disappear.

Your face softens and as hard as it may be to believe, it has to be him. Everything he listed is all stuff only the two of you would know and the quick quips, Jason never missed a beat. You don't know how or even why he's alive, but it's him. So, you drop the bat to the side of your bed, quickly getting up from your bed. You don't notice how cold the floor is as you run up to Jason, colliding into him with a force study enough to make him step back just so neither of you wall.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you bury your face into his shoulder. He smells different than before but somehow the same. He smells like gunmetal with a mix of the minty shampoo he always used. But, his arms come and wrap tightly around your middle and it all feels the same. His arms are still as sturdy as always and warm. He still feels like home and you do for him, too.

His chest erupts in warmth like a dormant volcano erupting for the time in decades. Every piece of him starts to be encompassed in warmth and a sense of comfort. It's been the longest three days of his life but that doesn't really matter, not right now. It just feels safe here. Between coming back, the drug, and Crane, it's been busy and hectic and heavy. But, he's standing here with you and all he wants to do is focus on this moment because it's not so heavy or loud anymore. You always let him just exist in a way no one else ever did.

Jason's the one that pulls away first but only until you look back at him. The corner of his mouth perks up before he collides his lips with yours. The kiss nearly sucks the breath out of your lungs as your eyes close and your hands tangle in his hair. Jason's grip tightens around you as if he's afraid you'll fall away from him if he lets go.

You can feel him smile against your mouth and it's something that always sent your stomach swirling. Jason Todd genuinely happy is something irreplaceable. And he is always happy to be anywhere near you.

The kiss starts to grow sloppy and desperate, teeth clacking against each other. The happiness of being reunited starts to collide into relief and desperation to never let go again.

Jason's arms loosen just enough to go to your hips, his fingertips sliding under your shirt and digging into your flesh. He's missed the feeling of your skin against his. It's been three days but dying really has made it seem like it's been years and he doesn't want to waste the time he gets anymore. All he wants to do is be with you and you slide his jacket, then hoodie off of the armor.

"Miss me?" Jason asks against your lips and you can feel the devilish smirk that's splitting his face.

"Always." You mutter before Jason tugs your shirt over your head and tosses it to the floor.

In a heartbeat, Jason has you backing up until your knees hit the edge of your bed. The two of you fall onto the soft mattress, Jason bracing the fall for the both you and his lips never leave yours. He slides his leg onto the bed, slotting his knee between your legs right until his thigh meets your wetting slit.

You almost groan at the contact and Jason feels the tremble of your lips against his. And he fucking smirks again.

"Seems like you missed something else, too, huh?" His voice is low but easy with the teasing remark.

"Shut up." You bite back.

It's something about the way he says it that you almost want to bite him and melt under his touch at the same time. Jason has never been one to just let things flow and meet in the middle, he always had to have some sort of comment about it with the corner of his mouth perking upwards. He just can't help himself and maybe you always found it a little bit endearing, even when he's annoying.

Jason pushes his thigh against your slit again and this time he's successful in getting a quiet moan from the back of your throat. The pressure is hot and thick as your underwear start to stick to your pussy. You grind yourself on his thigh and Jason knows he has you exactly where he wants you, not that you would rather be anywhere else right now.

You help Jason tug the armor off and onto the floor, leaving his chest bare and every toned muscle on display. Your mouth practically waters before you yank him back down to you.

He keeps his leg slotted between yours as you slide your hands over the muscles of his back, feeling every raised piece of skin where his back is tensed. His skin is always warm under your fingers. You can't help but glide your fingertips along the skin before digging your nails in.

Jason arches his back, a snarl leaving his throat before his eyes lock with yours. His pupils are blown, black consuming almost every trace of green. So, you do it again as a smirk tugs at your lips because you know that'll get him going. The look he gives you turns feral and hungry as if he hasn't eaten in weeks.

His thigh is pushed harder against your slit, earning him a whimper before he takes it away entirely. There's a triumphant smile on his lips as he raises his brow.

"I can still play the game better than you, babe." Jason teases before he kisses your cheek and moves down to your neck.

"Up for debate." You quip back as his teeth graze your pulse point.

Your heart jumps and you know he can feel it. A snicker falls from his lip before he nips down and starts sucking a purple mark into your skin. A reminder that you're his.

Jason slides his leg back between yours and as if connected by a magnetic force, you don't miss a beat in grinding yourself back on him. Jason scatters just a few more marks across your chest as your breathing becomes quicker, a warm and static pit growing in the pit of your stomach.

"Could just leave now." Jason huffs as he comes back to your lips, sliding a hand between your bodies.

"Don't you dare." Your threat is weak and almost pitiful.

Jason tugs the elastic of your underwear up, exposing your pussy to some of the cool air in the room. You wiggle against him, desperate to feel more than just his thigh. But, then he snaps the elastic back, making you jerk forward and let out a displeased whimper.

"Jay." You scold, a hollowed glare on your face as his face fills with amusement. "Come on." You whine, pushing yourself against his thigh as your hands trail from his back and to the zipper of his pants.

"Since you asked nicely." Jason offers you a toothy grin before he sits up.

Jason reaches for a condom from your nightstand before tugging his pants down and sliding it on. His hands come to your thighs, pulling you to the edge where he can position himself right up to your leaking slit. He nearly licks his lips as he slides a finger through your folds.

"All for me?" Jason asks with a confidence that makes you want to burn from the inside out.

You almost tease him back but you know if you do, he might just plop down next to you and get himself off.

"I missed you." You stick out your bottom lip, offering him a pout.

A rumble comes through his chest as he moves his finger to your clit. You lose all bite and snark from your words as the rest of the room melts away. It's been the longest three days of his life and he's missed you, too.

It's more than this that he misses. You always had a way of making any place feel like home. You always got him to feel comfortable in his own skin even when his own mind was running away with damaged versions of himself. And he's missed the way you go back and forth with him. A lot of people find him obnoxious and sure, you do, too sometimes but you still go back and forth. He's missed the way you always smile at him, with something like warm and kind. It's a relief being alive again, but it's also a relief getting to see you again.

"I missed, you, too." Jason finally says and he pulls his finger away.

Jason grabs his throbbing length in his fist, pumping himself a few times before he lines himself up with your pussy. He pushes forward, slow and steady as he rests a hand beside your head, holding his weight up. You turn your head, offering his forearm a kiss and the feral look in his eyes softens.

As he bottoms out, Jason places his other hand on the other side of your head, bending down to offer a soft kiss to your lips. His chest is heaving, moving rapidly but his lips are gentle against yours.

You slide your hands into his hair and instead of tugging, you wrap your fingers around the messy strands gently, as if happy to have him near you. Jason pulls out and then pushes back in, keeping up a steady rhythm as the two of you seem to savor the moment with each other.

He showed up as Red Hood. In the back of your head, you know he'll probably leave after this. He's not injured and he didn't seem upset. It's not really late which means he probably has something to do after this. Maybe that raises a lump in your throat for a split second because he's Red Hood.

It's not that Jason Todd magically came back from the dead and he's here again. It's that Jason Todd was murdered as Robin and then came back from the dead to be Red Hood, pick up being a vigilante just a more brutal and ruthless version of one. Being a vigilante is dangerous, as was proven just this week but Jaon comes back to go right back in the game. That part is scary.

Your heart skips as you kiss him back and you'll always be worried as he goes out there. Knowing it'll happen again. But, there is a part of you that admires him for it. He gets murdered and instead of quitting, he comes back to fight harder. Maybe that's completely insane but it is admirable. And you're proud of him for it. Worried, sure, but proud of him. So, you savor the way his lips are chapped against yours and the way his thrusts start to become a little quicker and desperate.

"Missed you." Jason mutters against your lips, his voice raspy and staggered.

"I missed you, too." Your voice is caught between a whimper and a whine.

Jason slides his hand between the two of you, finding your clit. His finger is gentle against the bud as your eyes roll back. He quickens his movements, matching the speed of his thrusts. A pit grows deeper in his own stomach as he nips your lip between his teeth.

He gets a low moan from you and he nearly finishes right then and there, his hips almost stalling. But, he recovers quickly, moving his finger in the way that always got you to unravel.

Your hands move to his back, nails digging in as the pressure feeling grows, echoing into your legs and down to your feet. He's pistoning out of you, the sound of skin on skin mixing with your moans and his groans fill the room. You tug him closer to you as you wrap your legs around his waist.

"Jay." You manage to get out as your throat feels like it's closing.

The room spins and Jason is relentless, knowing you're close. You can feel yourself pulsing around his length and you think your head might explode while your heart shoots out of your chest.

"Gonna cum over my cock for me, princess?" Jason drawls, his breath hot against your lips before he moves back to your neck.

"Uh-huh." You sputter out feeling the stars start in the back of your head.

His name falls from your lips loudly and sharply as everything around you explodes into static and stars. Your toes curl as everything starts to shake and convulse against Jason's length. The squeezing of his length sends him falling right off the edge with you, biting down on your neck as the orgasm rips through his body.

Jason works you both through your highs, slowly sitting up but keeping himself inside of you once your legs fall from his waist. He gives you this smile that's a contrast between cheeky and gentle. He bends down and presses a kiss to your forehead, earning a tired but loving smile from you.

"Thanks for stopping by, Jay." Your voice is hoarse but soft.

"Can make it a habit." Jason's grin turns into a smirk, but there's a softness in his eyes.

"Uh-huh, okay, Jay." You roll your eyes, kissing him back.

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#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd smut #red hood smut #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction #titans fanfic #titans fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

[joeloverture]

comeuppance | qz!j.m. x f!reader

masterlist | notifs blog

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader summary: [post outbreak] when your recklessness causes an arms deal to go south, joel makes sure you regret it. warnings: (18+ mdni) qz!joel, age gap (late 20s/early 50s), written with hbo!joel in mind but with game!joel lore, guns, mentioned executions, misogynistic names outside (and in!) a sexual context, canon-typical violence as in murder (joel kills a soldier 'on-screen'), reader is a little shit but joel is worse, darkish & dubcon, spanking as a punishment, gunplay, attempted boot humping, degradation, humiliation, one kick to the cunt, mean!joel, orgasm denial [no use of y/n] word count: 2.7k a/n: this is my (admittedly late) submission for @iamasaddie's writing challenge 2.0! my prompt was 'you can't hide forever'. the genre was technically dark but joel himself isn't scarily dark here. thank you so much to aly for, once again, bringing this fandom together with her challenges. it's a steep task but she does a great job every time! and even more thanks to @joelsdagger and @lovesickonmybed for helping me brainstorm! (i have half of a brain without my wonderfully creative friends).

It only takes one deal gone south to fuck everything up.

You know the compass is already ticking that way the moment you and Joel, your longtime smuggling partner, enter the abandoned warehouse. Much like everything else in the Boston QZ, it’s falling apart. The corrugated metal walls are pitted with rust, and old blood is caked all over the floors. In another life, it might’ve been a slaughterhouse, but there’s no real way of knowing. It’s been long enough that any signage has deteriorated. The building’s state of decay, however, isn’t what messes things up.

It’s the singular man that walks in from the opposite side of the atrium.

FEDRA’s favorite executioner. Slitted eyes far apart, thinned out lips, and graying black hair. Rarely seen away from the gallows, only recognizable to you from all of the nightmares you’ve had of his face being the last you see.

If it were drugs, you’d think nothing of it. FEDRA soldiers buy quietly from you all of the time – but they have no need for guns that they don’t already have.

Joel steps forward, merchandise in the duffel bag over his shoulder, none the wiser. A knot ties itself in the base of your throat. You’re too busy trying to figure out what to do, what to do, what to do that you barely even realize that the soldier has a gun aimed right between your eyes until you’re looking right down the barrel.

Your hand jerks to your holster, drawing your pistol in one swipe.

“Drop your fucking gun!” he barks in your direction. It clatters out of your hands. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Your hands fly up as you take a step back, nearly stumbling into a nearby crate. “Joel Miller and his bitch,” the man sneers. “What a lucky find. You two have quite the bounty on your heads.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Joel says, face completely blank.

“Easy for you to say,” the guard says with a nagging smirk. “Your little cunt here already did. Pretty fucking dumb not to check who you’re selling your merchandise to, huh?”

Joel tenses, ultimately huffing through his nose. “Can we get this over with?”

“I’ll make it easy, Miller. Come with me alive so I get paid, or come with me dead so I still get paid.”

Joel’s fingers twitch behind his back, and after almost three years of working with him, it’s impossible not to pick up on the subtext. Keep him busy. His hand is already reaching for the revolver in his back pocket.

“Turn the other way. I can make this worth your time,” you say. “But you’re lucky if those sons of bitches you work for even offer you half the reward they’ve posted for us. Dragging the bodies from Area 5 to the closest checkpoint… you’d have your work cut out for you.”

“Yeah fucking right,” he spits. “You two have been running around free for too damn long. Causing too much trouble. Not anymo–”

The man’s mouth freezes around the words by the time the bullet soars throat the canvas fabric of Joel’s duffel bag and through the man’s jugular. The soldier’s hands claw for his throat while he gargles on the blood as he begins the descent to the ground. New blood, still pumping directionless from the split artery, joins the old.

Much like him, where he’s slumping against the ground, chest moving until the very end, your hands clutch at your own throat. “We need to go,” you say, knowing the rest of FEDRA will come looking for the firefight at any second now. Joel doesn’t move. “Joel!” You reach out to tug his sleeve, but he doesn’t react. “Jesus– move!”

Joel turns to face you, gun still hanging from his hand. His fingers flex around the grip. “What the hell were you thinkin’, little girl?” You can hear his breathing, amplified from how close he is to you. His once inexpressive face is now red, lips curled, skin tight like a crushed soda can. 

“I– what?”

“Not vettin’ your buyers. First fuckin’ thing I told you all them years ago, wasn’t it? Gotta check so you don’t sell shit to the wrong guy, yeah?” He stalks closer to you – you stumble back.

Not vetting the now dead executioner, whose blood is currently creeping up to the soles of your boots. Your mistake, yes, a potentially catastrophic one that you’ll definitely never make again after this, but he’d been on your ass about finding buyers and after an entire day of burning bodies, the last thing you wanted to do was go asking around about the ‘John’ in search of guns that you’d talked to over the radio tower.

“We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Joel finally jerks his sleeve away from your grip. Your hand falls slack by your side, burning from his fire stoker touch. “And you oughta count your fuckin’ blessings for that. Dumbfuck of a girl, gonna get me killed,” he spits. Spittle flies across your neck. 

You flinch – and not because you’re scared. You’ve never seen him like this before. You hear noise in the distance, the moving of FEDRA trucks, no doubt. “Joel! We can do this later – we need to fucking go–”

“Then you better start running,” he says gruffly.

You don’t need to be told twice.

You sprint out of the atrium, cursing as your bloodied soles carve tracks behind you. A stack of crates blocks the door, which you vault over and shimmy your way through the broken glass panel. The hallway ahead of you is dark, and you have no idea where the fuck you’re going, only that you can’t stop. Each impact of your foot on the ground is like being struck by lightning, carbonating the racing blood pumping through your body. More glass crunches behind you, and a shock of terror pierces you when you hear Joel’s snarls filling the corridor.

There’s a metal cart in your way, which you send whirling in Joel’s direction. He grunts, presumably hitting him in the stomach before it goes clattering on the ground. You make the most of the diversion, hurtling forward and lurching through a cracked door.

Dead fucking end.

An office, by the looks of it. Desks all over the place, leftover tasks still pinned on cork boards from outbreak day, chairs on their sides. You hear Joel huffing and puffing behind you, and fear forks through you. You fall to your hands and knees, crawling underneath the labyrinth of desks and tucking yourself against a wall, carpet-burned hand to your mouth to muffle your breathing. Your chest avalanches with every single breath.

“You ain’t off the hook,” Joel says, voice getting closer with every word. You can hear the thump of his boots against the carpet. See the spread of his shadow roaming across the wall. You squint through the seam of two desks. He's looking over his shoulder when you haul yourself across the room to the next closest desk.

You look around for anything that might get you out of this long enough to slip back out of the door. If you can make it back to the apartment, maybe he can cool off on his own walk back. You reach up for a stapler and take a brief second to peek over a filing cabinet before flinging it against the wall. It snaps open, spilling decades old staples all over the floor.

“Only a clicker’s fallin’ for that,” he tuts at you. His boots land on the floor again, one, two, three steps closer to you. You wince, balling your hands into fists. 

All you can hear is the thrashing of your own heart. You scooch away from the desk – maybe if you throw something small at him, like a pack of sticky notes, it’ll be enough to abduct his attention long enough for you to slip by–

“You can’t hide forever,” Joel goddamn coos at you. You see him bending at the waist, scoping out the undersides of desks, seeking you out–

You crawl out from under the desk and book it to the door.

Stupid. Fucking. Idea.

Joel hauls you back by the belt loop, laughing as you cry out. You try squirming away, kicking at him, but his other arm wraps around your torso. It hits you then that you have no idea what he might do to you. You’ve trusted him with your life before, but what would he do when you risked his? You’d always been too scared to find out. He spins you, slamming you over the desk. You cry out as your chest meets the wood. His hand drags your wrists together, pinning them at the small of your back.

“Let me – the fuck– go!” you yell at him, trying to bend your elbow at the right angle to nail him in the chest.

He tightens his grip so much that you can barely move an inch. “Made your fuckin’ bed, gotta lie in it, sweetheart,” he tuts, shaking his head at you. His hand grazes over your ass, and you stiffen as he looms over you. He is just a man. Your mind spins to the worst-case scenario. No, no, no, no–

“How about an… old-fashioned corporal punishment to set ya straight?” Within the next second, he’s yanking your jeans down your thighs.

Oh. Oh fuck.

“Joel–” you exhale, breath shuddery. “Knock it off–”

“No panties? I was gonna be nice and spank ya over them…” Joel frowns at you. “Poor baby. ‘S gonna sting real bad.”

You snap at him, “What, you want me to go to the local QZ Victoria’s Secret?”

Joel swats, hard, across your asscheek.

You’ve seen how intense Joel’s brute strength can be. You’ve just never been on the receiving end of it. A cry pushes out of your throat, and you hunch over the desk as you struggle helplessly against Joel. Tears spring at your eyes.

Mercifully, Joel runs his calloused palm over the smarting skin. “Shh, shh, shh, shh. ‘S okay, Jus’ gotta teach ya a lesson. Make sure it sticks.” He strokes the nape of your neck as you whimper into the desk.

You tense up in preparation for the second hit, but, if anything, it just makes the impact worse. It prickles your other cheek, leaving your knees shaky. And God help you, your clit twitches. Twitches. Your thighs are already heating up, and you can’t help but squirm in a good way underneath Joel. A single tear slips over your waterline, and you have to tilt your head into the shoulder of your shirt to wipe it off. You don’t want him to see you weak – not that weak.

The next spank makes him grunt from how hard he swings his palm into your backside. “Joel!” you shout, pain nearly splitting you in two. Your feet raise off of the ground as you prop yourself up on the desk, kicking uselessly at his shins. All he does is chuckle at you.

Horror sinks like a cinderblock in your stomach when you realize that your hole, leaking slick, is practically fucking winking at him. You thank the darkness. It’s about the only good thing about this place.

“You don’t like that?” he mock-pouts at you. It’s enough to make you throb. The opposite, you’d say if you could.

A series of spanks follows, but at least these are lighter, and in rapid succession. Still, you jerk with each impact, squirming so that your fingers dance in his grip. “Stupid little girl. Thought you could sell our shit to a FEDRA bitch and get off scot-free? Really thought you could get away from me, huh?”

You try clamming up, desperately attempting to close your legs together. You squeeze your thighs together, relieved at the pressure – and then you hear a resounding click behind you.

You still.

Joel’s gun, still fucking hot from the bullet it’d fired right into the executioner’s throat, traces up the small of your back… all the way to your throat. “Could put one right here,” Joel whispers, more to himself than you. “Show ya what happens to girls that don’t follow orders.” He jams it into your skin, and you hiss at the pain, at the bruise it’s sure to leave. And in spite of it all, you fucking gush. God, you’re fucked up.

He wouldn’t kill you – he needs you more than you need him. But common sense isn’t enough to prevent the thrill, the arousal smiting your body from head to toe.

“I’ll reconsider if ya give it a kiss.” He nudges the barrel carefully against your lips and you stop breathing for a second, maybe two. “Go on. Give it some lovin’. Suck it like a cock. I know you’re good at it. Hear all the guys you bring over.”

You whimper at the thought of Joel listening to you getting your hook ups off – at the thought of him fisting his own cock while he listens. Obediently, you part your lips, slowly, ever so slowly, taking the gun down your throat. It fills your mouth up in such a strange way – all hard edges. It’d be freezing cold if not for the fact that it’s a weapon of death, a scythe in its own way. One press of the trigger, and you’d be just like the guard. You suck even harder at it, eyes rolling back in your skull. Your thighs twitch, stripes of slick running down your thighs. 

Joel reaches between your legs, grabbing at the meat of your inner thigh to spread you open. Instead, he gets a handful of the arousal that’s been pooling between your legs since he first bent you over the desk.

You freeze, pausing your ministrations on the pistol. He himself freezes before he drags his hips over your folds. His finger pads hover over your swollen clit before he properly rubs you once, and then twice. Your hips cant into the closest thing – his hand.

Joel makes a disgusted noise and swats your leaking pussy before shoving you forward and stepping back. You’re panting, properly fucked out even though he’d barely touched you. Cross-eyed, tongue hanging out, face hot. He looks you up and down, brows furrowing with revulsion. “Horny fuckin’ bitch. Creamin’ all over me. That long since you got action that a spankin’ and a gun in your mouth is all it takes to get you riled up? Pathetic.” He shoves the gun back in his pocket, still shining with your saliva.

He wipes your wetness all over your leg, grabs the back of your collar, and drags you to the floor in one foul swoop. You fall on your hands and knees again, ass still stinging from his treatment, lightheaded from how needy you are. Even his brutal treatment makes you whimper. 

You reach for his calf, pulling yourself up to brace your dripping cunt against his boot. You rut against it, not even fully cognizant of your movements as you roll your hips, praying that he lets you have this if nothing else. Your orgasm, wetting his boot thoroughly. Your scent, clinging to him on the walk back to the apartment. You buck into the boot, moaning as the toe bumps against your clit. It might be enough, if you could just do it one more time–

Joel tears his shoe out from underneath you, face pinched with aversion. “No!” you cry, still grabbing for his calf. You fall onto your back, legs spread and panting. Your ass needles from his spanking. The ceiling tiles spin above you. 

The same toe you’d been humping kicks into your cunt, and you yelp, curling in on yourself. Another tear slides down your burning cheek as you reach down to cup your sore pussy. Even that pressure feels like touching a live wire. 

Joel looks down at his shining boot and makes a disgusted noise. “Does humiliatin’ yourself always get ya dicked down?” 

He turns around, already walking away from you without a care in the world. The gun grip pokes out of his pocket, taunting you.

“Pull your goddamn pants up and get a move on. Curfew’s soon.”

#vetty's words 𓇢𓆸 #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #writing challenge 2.0

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Earth42 Miles here on this blog is just.. AAA. I love him so much, and your writting has increased my obsession with him.!!

You know how your fic where reader is dead?? Well what if another portal opened to earth 42 where in earth 42 reader is dead. But reader is from another earth where reader is prowler.?? And miles is dead. I think it’d be so cool.! You can choose ending if you like you wonderful author :))

(this is so amazing and thank you for the compliment!)

United Even In Death

You had woken up that day like any other, but now, the day ended with you in some random rooftop, thrown into another universe and facing a ghost.

Not any ghost.

Miles.

And he stared just as back at you, both adorning the same Prowler gear you were ashamed and proud to wear.

You both has started and freaked, trying to get anything out but came to a conclusion.

You were dead here.

He was alive.

He was dead there.

You were alive.

But now you both stood alive and well, in front of a ghost of your past you thought to have lost.

Well, you did. But now a whole other version now stood in your path.

"So, you're not my Miles…"

"And you're not my (Name)."

"...you look just like him." You said, barely able to move but your hand somehow made its way to his cheek, hovering just above it.

You stopped for a moment, almost afraid to be in a dream and he would disappear at any moment.

Miles saw your hesitance, and after a moment of his own, took the chance and leaned his face to your palm.

You both were still, waiting for the time to wake up as you had time and time again when you had this dream.

But you didn't.

You stayed there. Hand on the cheek of the boy you promised to yourself to marry one day, who was taken from you just because of a stupid anomaly.

Miles' eyes searched your face for any blood, any tears and any fear in them like he has seen once before on the same day he lost his father.

He found none, nothing except the smile lines he caused and the love he always saw when he looked at you to find yourself already admiring from afar.

As the shock wore off from you both, coming to see that the ghost and flesh and blood of your dead lovers stood before you, tears began to form.

Your hand fell, but soon after you slowly wrapped your arms around his waist, putting your head to his chest to feel and hear the beating of his heart you were once forced to hear go silent.

Before long, the tears that formed started falling, the realization of Miles actually being alive and well and that you were in his arms once more.

Miles could say the same, arms stiff and by his side as he was almost afraid to touch you, feeling your head on his chest once more than you had done when sleeping over.

As he began to hear you cry, his arms finally found it in themselves to move.

They slowly circled your back, and feeling his strong arms around you and well, Miles tucked his face into your neck to breathe you in once more.

His own tears formed, but silent and well hidden as he cried, both of you mourning and both of you loving the feeling of being in the arms of someone you lost, and somehow found once more.

But it wasn't real.

You would need to leave soon enough.

But being with Miles was worth disappearing for.

Because you needed Miles, even if he wasn't your Miles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mushystrawberries @sweetheartlizzie07 @itstooearly-its3am @Ihavetoexist @kaorussgf @samsketchezz @yas-v @lovelymiaablogss @sussybaka10 @shisuishoe @sairavity @moonlight-rosevine @spectr3inl0ve @najiiix @popeheywardssecretgf @sylisan @onginlove @harleycao @kaitoliu

#across the spider verse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #across the universe #spider verse #spiderverse x reader #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #miles x reader #miles molares #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales earth 42 x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader

[ekingston]

For the ask game:

Supercorp fic where Lena runs a popular webseries/blog about plants and plant care and Kara (one of her avid subscribers) is absolutely hapless when it comes to keeping plants alive and is constantly asking Lena for help only to fail spectacularly. Lena is *convinced* Kara is fucking with her on purpose, and kinda sorta hates her virtual guts

(Now also on a03.)

Lena isn’t naive.

When she made the decision to set up a discord server for her plant vlog’s followers, she knew there was a possibility things might get messy. After all, even while remaining anonymous — she can practically hear her PR team screaming at the idea of Lena Luthor running her own verified social media account — her comment section has always been 45% earnest compliments and questions from beginner botanists and 55% unabashed thirst over her sexy hands and soothing voice. Lena imagined any possible frustration caused by having to sidestep the occasional untoward overture would be worth the satisfaction she gets from teaching fellow hobbyists to take better care of their plants. It’s nice to feel like she’s being appreciated, for a change, to be allowed to play hero in a small way, different from L-Corp’s high-stakes idealism or Supergirl’s histrionic stunts.

(She still hasn’t managed to set up a meeting with National City’s super-powered alien in residence, but she’s certain it will be any day now.)

Lena couldn’t have predicted that the most aggravating individual on her server wouldn’t turn out to be a persistent suitor, but rather a member of the plant-loving minority.

If the violence this ‘Kvers’ person routinely inflicts on their houseplants can be considered love.

Why are my plant’s leaves yellowing? had been this idiot’s first, innocuous ask. Moments later, they’d followed it up with a picture of the brown, crisp remains of what Lena had only vaguely recognized must at one point have been a vibrant green ZZ plant.

Because it’s fucking dead, Lena had wanted to reply, suggesting instead Is it possible it’s near a window where it gets too much direct light?

My place does get a good amount of sun, Kvers had responded. I kind of prefer it that way. Lena had given her a list of plants that would fare better in those conditions, and hoped that would be that.

But it didn't end there; it’s actually only gotten worse. Kvers is in Lena’s notifications what feels like every other day now with fresh doubts and queries. Why do you even have plants, Lena is tempted to respond half the time, when it’s obvious you’re too much of a moron to even be trusted to take care of yourself?

Are banana plants supposed to tear this easily? comes the next question, combined with a picture of a Dwarf Cavendish that looks to have been ripped to shreds by a wind stronger than the average tornado.

“What the fuck,” Lena mumbles to herself. Some tearing is to be expected, they’re pretty frail, she replies, before snapping and adding I advise placing it a little further away from that jet engine you must have set up in your living room, however in a disgruntled huff.

Kvers sends her only a 😳 in response.

A fresh victim is presented to her a few days later, along with Kvers’s desperate plea of Can this little guy still be saved?

Pictured is the saddest Boston fern Lena has seen in her entire life: it’s bruised grey-brown and beige where it should be a vivid emerald, and when Lena clicks the image to enlarge, she finds herself frowning at what looks like a dusting of frost still clinging to the fronds.

Ferns can recover from freezing conditions but only if their roots weren’t also affected, Lena replies very professionally, her fingers shaking with silent outrage. Though I don’t understand why you’d keep a potted fern outdoors when it’s that cold. She’s beginning to wonder if this Kvers person is a genuine imbecile or an abusive prankster. Where do you live that you’re dealing with these weather conditions in August? she demands.

Oh, um, Kvers replies and then, after a few starts and stops, Southern California.

So Kvers is absolutely fucking with her.

It takes a week before they’re asking for Lena’s input again. This buddy is looking a little rough today, they post, do you think a good soak could help perk it back up?

The miserable money tree pictured is barely clinging to life. Lena peers through the furious red haze descending over her vision and swears it looks like its few remaining leaves are singed.

Lena’s patience has run out. Are you serious? she asks. Did someone burn your building down?

Small kitchen accident Kvers has the audacity to reply.

It’s the final straw in every sense of the word. Lena will not stand for this blatant abuse a moment longer, especially if it’s done exclusively for the purpose of getting her attention. Before she can think too much about it, before her rage recedes, she sends Kvers a direct message announcing she’s coming by for a home consultation.

Where in SoCal are you exactly?

As it turns out, Kvers is right here, in National City.

She’s also a bafflingly attractive — though fidgety — blonde.

Blue eyes widen and pink lips part when she answers the door, her shoulders so broad and her arms so beefy she takes up most of the space in the doorway to her loft. Lena probably wouldn’t be able to see past her, at her endangered plants beyond, if she still wanted to.

But she can tell her loft is well-lit, like she’d mentioned — she’s framed by the sun’s dying rays, her hair and skin golden and shimmering in a way not entirely of this earth.

This explains so much, Lena realizes, relieved. The wind. The frost. The burns.

Her would-be adversary is wearing glasses and her hair is up, and her flustered demeanor seems so awkwardly genuine that Lena wonders if the image this woman projects when she’s dressed in her more familiar reds and blues is the act — if this awestruck, faded-jeans-clad cutie is the real person that’s hiding underneath.

She looks far more human than Lena would have imagined.

“You’re Lena Luthor,” she finally manages to stutter out.

Lena regards her evenly. “Good to finally meet you,” she says, and, dropping her voice a little, “Supergirl.”

#supercorp fan fiction #plant vlog au #supergirl fan fiction #fic by ekingston #who has two thumbs & managed to pen a clean 1000 word drabble for the first time in probably a decade? #👍 this guy! 👍 #thank you for the incentive gaby! you’re a gem! #ask meme #deadbiwrites #fan ficlet #1k

[fka-leah]

﹙— vampire!naoya x black!fem reader ﹚

y/n decides to break into the zenin estate days before halloween to settle some childish rumors but ends up coming face to face with thee naoya zenin.

warnings: manga spoilers﹙after the shibuya arc ﹚SMUT, some degradation, naoya zenin being naoya zenin, unprotected sex, creampies, biting, and blood.

this is a reupload from my old blog @rinhoes

There had been rumors floating around for some time about the Zenin estate, Y/N always thought them to be total bullshit. Especially since these rumors always happen to float around before Halloween—Y/N saw them as nothing but a ploy to get riled up for no reason. But according to her friends and others at their university, the Zenin estate was haunted. Months following Maki Zenin’s assault on the property, people started reporting sounds of “blood-curdling screams” coming from the abandoned estate. She’d been hearing this ever since she arrived in Japan for university three years ago. Now in her senior year of college, those rumors weren’t giving up—they were as fresh ever. “I’m telling you Y/N! It’s true, the place is haunted. Look, the girl in my business management class said she saw Naobito Zenin’s ghost walking around the estate walls.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “That bullshit, Naobito Zenin died in Shibuya. He was dead way before Maki even went there.” She deadpanned. The two of them had been speaking about this for the last week, though it was mostly her friend trying to convince her—and continuously failing. “Plus I don’t believe in ghost.”

Her friend’s expression flattened into a blank stare, “You can fight cursed spirits on the weekends but you draw the line at—ghost?”

“That’s not the same.” Y/N retorted before picking her books and backpack from the library’s table.

“You have to be joking right now, you really don’t believe me, huh? Okay! Go see for yourself Y/N, the place is haunted. All those people Maki killed are still there—wandering the estate grounds. Probably angry too.”

Y/N flicked her long box braids over her shoulder. “Whatever you say babe.”

Later that night, Y/N could barely sleep, it was approaching one in the morning when she pushed the thick duvet off her body. She knew if she went checked it out, two things could happen—either that would settle rumors about the estate or it’ll further encourage more people to break into the estate. Y/n huffed in annoyance as she stepped toward the messy closet. There was no way she’d be able to sleep until she went there.

It was nearly three in the morning once she arrived at the Zenin estate. No one had purchased the property, they could thank the rumors for that. That gate outside was locked with a thick chain and padlock. It would be impossible to pop either one with the bolt cutter she had. Rolling her eyes, Y/N threw her backpack then pulled her over the metal gate. “If this shit is really haunted—it better be worth it.” Y/N grumbled as she followed the overgrown path that led to the entrance, “Maki killed the gardenered too?” Y/N tiptoe through the stone path attempting to avoid the thick vines and various cracks in the uneven stone.

As Y/N ventured through the estate, she could feel the remnants of cursed energy. However, there was a particular one that was stronger than the others. As if it was alive—and hungry, Y/N couldn’t put her finger on it. This wasn’t one of those instances where things went bump in the night, something lingered under the surface, and it struggled to get through. “It’s fucking chilly in here.” Y/N grumbled as she sifted through the rubble that was still leftover. “Didn’t say they something about spirits making the air cool?—Oh look now I’m talking to myself.”

Cool air from the broken window made Y/N shift in her puffer jacket, and other than the obnoxious chill, the smell of blood was present and wasn’t the blood from three years ago, Y/N had enough experience that she knew when blood was fresh. And resting under the smell of blood was the faint but noticeable scent of pine. “Perfect cover-up for the decaying bodies, huh?” Soon Y/N stumbled upon a secluded part of the estate. It was different from the rest as if it had been clean and maintained, but that would be impossible unless someone decided to squat in the abandoned estate. That wasn’t happening, not by the look of everything around there.

An eerie feeling settled in Y/N as she ventured down the dimly lit hall. The smell of blood was faint on this side of the estate, it was warm too. Soon she stumbled upon a pair of sliding doors, “This isn’t smart.” Y/N mumbled before gently pushing open the door. The room was dim and smelled of lavender and vanilla; venturing further into the spacious room, she noticed a relatively large bed. As she stepped closer, Y/N came across a sleeping figure in the middle of the bed. “Holy s-shit! It’s him!” Y/N exclaimed before dropping her flashlight to the ground.

“Fucking—” Her mumbles were quickly cut short by the bed spring creaking.

“You know,” His deep lazy voice filled her ears, “it’s almost comically that you lot come here—willingly.” Y/N lifted her head to come directly to his golden gaze. “So, who might you be?”

By now, her heart was thumping hard against her chest. “Uhh, Y-y/n” She replied with an audible gulp.

A smug smile spread across his head as he looked over her shaking frame, baring his large fangs at her. “Do you know who I am?”

Y/N nodded nervously, “You’re Naoya Zenin—but I thought you were dead?”

He chuckled loudly, “I am, sweetheart.” He replied, bringing his intimidating form to the edge of the bed, “you’re different from the others. I can smell the curse energy surging from your body—it’s a nice body too.” Naoya replied, looking over her thighs. “You’re a sorcerer too? Aren’t you?” Y/N nodded. The fear on her body was fueling his excitement.

“Look at here love.” Naoya started bringing his soft fingers to her hot cheeks. “I’m gonna use you tonight. I’ve been terribly hungry lately and I can just tell you and that body of yours will satiate my needs. How does that sound?”

—————————————

Y/N arched her back off the red satin sheets, her brown thighs clenching around his head. His cold hands distinctly contrasted the heat coming from his hot tongue. Naoya flicked his tongue against her swollen clit, “F-fuck, such a desperate little slut. You came all the way here just to get fucked by me?” Naoya teased before curving his fat tongue and sliding along her wet hole.

“Naoya, please. Y-your tongue is so fucking good.” Y/N moaned breathlessly as she grind her pussy against his face.

“Desperate little whore.” He mumbled, sending vibrations to her clit. The taste of her sent shivers down his body as he grind his hard dick into the plush bed. Naoya thought he couldn’t get any harder, but the taste of her pussy put life back into his body. He was the desperate one, all the women who had broken into the estate could never satisfy his needs, but this was different. Y/N scent alone made his cock stir in his pants.

Pulling away from her, Naoya glanced at her glistening cunt. His hot tongue slid from her pulsing asshole to her swollen clit, wrapping his pink lips around it as Naoya began to suck and lick feverishly. Y/N hands gripped Naoya’s blonde roots pushing his face deeper into her pussy, her hips slightly lifting off the bed. “Oh Naoya, please. F-fuck.” She wasn’t sure whether squirted or not, but she knew something had happened. Her pussy juice dripped from Naoya’s lips down to the sheets below.

Gripping her neck tightly, Naoya pulled her into a frenzied kiss. It was wild, the way his tongue invaded her hot mouth, how his teeth nipped at her plump lips. “I’m gonna make you mine tonight.” Naoya mumbles as his tongue glides over her soft brown skin. “You’ll be coming back for more.”

Naoya looked down at Y/N twitching body as he undressed. Her perky brown nipples dying to be sucked on, her pretty puffy cunt oozing at the sight of him. That was the type of woman he’d been waiting for. His golden eyes were glowing at the thought of him sliding into her pussy. A menacing smile spread across his face, flashing his long sharp fangs at her. “Her blood must taste divine,” Naoya thinks to himself as he removes his loose-fitted pants.

Y/N’s eyes widened once they landed on Naoya’s cock. It was a big dick, long and fat. One that could stretch her sensitive pussy without second thought. She felt a slight tingling in her pussy when she noticed the little frenum piercing glistening under his dripping precum. Naoya giggled, “You like it? Come kiss it baby.”

The second her soft connected with the piercing, Naoya threw his back, letting out a whiny moan. “Suck it.” He grunted, his hands tightly gripping her box braids. Lust flooded Naoya’s brain as his tip disappeared into her hot mouth with his piercing sliding along her wet tongue. Gripping both sides of her head, Naoya fucked her face continuously thrusting his thick cock to the back of her throat. His saggy balls tapped against her chin with each powerful thrust. “I b-bet your little cunt is soaking right now.” His thigh shook violently as Y/N’s tongue swirled around his needy tip.

“He tastes like honey.” Y/N thought to herself.

More degrading praise spilled from Naoya’s mouth as Y/N bobbed her head along the length of his cock. Her moans sent waves of pleasure down his dick causing Naoya’s body to stiffen. “S-swallow my cum—fucking slut.” His large hands pushed her head deeper with the tip of her nose brushing against his pubes. Another groan left his lips as his hot cum spilled into her throat. “There you go baby, take it all.”

“Naoya—” Y/N collapsed onto the bed as she struggled for air. Before she could register anything else, Naoya was pulling at her ankles bringing her to the edge of the bed.

He was a sight to see, his chiseled torso and broad chest loomed over her with a lustful and menacing gaze. He let out a loud gasp as his cock slowly invaded her velvety walls. Inch by inch, Y/N’s wet hole fluttered around his length. She was tight, too tight for him to even think straight. The only thing on the Zenin’s mind was how she’d look full of this cum.

“Naoya, please, I can take it.” Y/N plead before Naoya tightly gripped her plush thighs. The way her wet cunt sucked him in, made Naoya almost lose it. Y/N bought her legs around Naoya’s waist trapping him in her wetness. Moving at a steady pace, Naoya dragged his thick cock against her velvety walls massaging her sweet spots. Her hands made their way into his blond locks as she moaned sweet sounds into Naoya’s ears. “I want you to cum inside me Naoya, please. Cum inside me.”

Her pleas and sobs made Naoya slam into her cunt, the lewd sounds of skin slapping and her squelching pussy filled the room. His pace was relentless, the thick head of his dick rubbing her g-spot causing her legs to shake around him. Her pussy clenching with each rough stroke with her back arching off the bed. Her body pressed his chest. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight.” Naoya groaned gripping tightly on the sheets below. He knew he was close, the pit in his stomach was getting harder to ignore.

Y/N could barely form correct sentences—not when Naoya was fucking her like this. Her nails sunk into his shoulders, tears spilling from her eyes as Naoya sunk in and out of her cunt. “Gonna c-cum Naoya, please—” Her eyes rolling to the back of her head as he fucked into her harder and deeper. Soon her pussy shuddered around him bringing out his own orgasm.

Thick ropes of cum filled her pussy as Naoya sunk his sharp fangs into her shoulder. “Oh!” Y/N gasped at the sudden pain. Naoya sucked and licked around the fresh wound, the taste of her blood made his heart and cock swell. A moan left his lips as pulled away from her shoulder, his eyes now glowing red as looked at her horrified expression. “If only you knew how good you taste.”

if yall want to be tagged in future post let me know ♡ — thanks for you reading 🪽

#naoya zenin smut #black reader #jjk smut #black!fem!reader #black!reader #[ ⋆໒꒱｡ playboy mag ] #[ ⋆໒꒱｡ the catalogue ] #[ ♡ — chara :: naoya zenin ]

[theresattrpgforthat]

Found your blog by chance, seems like a very cool concept!

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ🫖🍵

I wonder if you have played Warhammer Fantasy RPG, and if you have any thoughts on it, or who you would recommend it to bonus question, any rules light one session RPGs with ready example scenarios you'd recommend?

Hello there! I do not have any experience with Warhammer in any of its forms, unfortunately. The closes I’ve gotten to experiencing anything Warhammer is the actual play episodes hosted on Fandible. I’ll post links to each of their episodes below.

Only War | Black Crusade | Age of Sigmar | The Black, the Grey & the Skaven | Wrath & Glory

Now, let’s see if I can do anything about the second half of your request!

Theme: Rules-Light Single Sessions.

A Complicated Profession, by Always Checkers Publishing.

A Complicated Profession is a light-hearted sci-fi TTRPG for 3 to 5 players. It's a one-shot that usually lasts a few sessions. What do bounty hunters do when the galaxy no longer needs them? In this game, they start new careers hosting intergalactic cruises!

Reunite your disbanded crew of jaded sidekicks, shabby droids and shady accomplices. Then pick a hosting role and start a new life together. 

While it may last a little longer than one session, I’m really excited about A Complicated Profession, as my game group will be playing it in about a month or so! Character creation is something of a fill-it-in mad-libs style process, which I can foresee being pretty quick and easy to set up. The tone of the game is really lighthearted as well, which I think is a great thing to look for when playing one-shots, especially if you’re playing games with folks you don’t know very well. I I don’t know game doesn’t have a predetermined scenario, but the focus of the game itself is pretty narrow, so I think it would be pretty easy to figure out what kinds of obstacles your retired bounty hunters will be up to.

Never & More, by Small Stories.

You are the newest recruits of The Society of Ushers, an occult secret society. Your mission is to prove yourself to your superiors, master the rituals required to move up a rung, and learn how to talk to ravens. Your direct superior and teacher, the Belfry-Devil, has finally deemed you suitable to circulate by yourselves amongst greater society, trusting you to remain faithful to the Ushers in the face of attempted poaching, targeted seduction, and superior parties.

This is a simple example of the kinds of games that exist in the Lasers-and-Feelings family of games, all designed around the concept of two core stats that tell us about your characters’ strengths and weaknesses. Many L&F games come with a few quick steps to create your character, a specific setting or mission, and a series of roll tables to help the GM construct a threat and series of obstacles. If you like rules-light games that are quick to read and occult settings, you might want to check out this game.

For Moria, by Luis Lasbelin.

With the Balrog dead, the hope of retaking Moria is more alive than ever. Thousands of dwarves gather from the great fortresses hidden beneath the mountains with the sole purpose of fighting to reclaim the once great dwarven stronghold.

For Moria uses the Breathless game system for games of terror and tension.

Breathless games are meant to put your characters in heavily dangerous situations, with resources that are guaranteed to run out. Because of this, I think they are a good fit for one-shot games, because there’s always the chance that your character meets some kind of doom. Because this game is about dwarves retaking Moria now that the Balrog is dead, I’d say that the setting does a lot of heavy lifting, assuming your characters are familiar with Tolkien’s Middle Earth. Definitely worth checking out.

Wolf Head, by A.C. Luke.

The King is just. Rather than execute you, he cursed you with the head of a wolf. Instead of death, you were exiled to be hunted for the rest of your days.

But now, the King needs you, or someone like you. There is a great crisis threatening the realm. If you were to solve it, he would remove the curse, pardon you of your crimes. What would you be willing to do for absolution?

WOLF HEAD is a dark fantasy tabletop role-playing game about medieval fable and what you will, and won't, do to be let back into the fold. Players take on the roles of wolves, criminals cursed with a wolf head and banished from society. You have become defined by your crimes—did you commit murder, foment revolution, speak heresy, or love the wrong person? And will what you did help or hinder you in clawing back what they took from you?

Wolf Head looks to have the capacity to be either a one-shot or take place over a large campaign. The game is meant to be zero-prep, which means that you can get a game up and running in no time, and the structure of quests means that you can start a one-shot with a specific quest that ends the session once it’s been accomplished. I don’t own this game, so I’m not sure if it comes with pre-written scenarios, but if it doesn’t, I’m expecting some tools to help you create your own quest pretty quickly.

Escape from Dino Island, by Sam Tung & Sam Roberts.

Escape from Dino Island is a thrilling adventure game about intrepid heroes trapped on an island overrun with creatures from a lost age—dinosaurs!

Players take on the role of everyday people who are brave and competent, but also in over their head. The game is designed to help you create the kind of stories that are full of action and suspense, but in which fighting is rarely a good option. Will you escape with your life? And what kind of person will you become in your quest to survive? There’s only one way to find out…

As a one-shot PbtA game, Escape from Dino Island starts you with a pretty tight premise: you’re trapped on an island populated with dinosaurs. Your characters all have different strengths that can help them get off the island, but one thing you have very little of is time. This is another story-first kind of game, but unlike other PbtA games, which require multiple sessions to tease out all of your character conflicts, Escape from Dino Island is meant to be played in one sitting, which means that any advancements available to your characters are expected to show up before the end of the first session.

Operation: Final Monarch, by poor students.

Operation Final Monarch is a one-page Tabletop RPG for 4-6 players. One player will act as the GM, providing obstacles, portraying passengers, and describing the Watchful Luftrahmer. You play as Infiltrators, spies from the fallen countries around Arstarkan. Your final mission is to kill Aleksander Von Korte.

When situations get risky you gamble with danger and can always push your luck to try to succeed in any situation. Be careful not to roll a 1 though, as a devastating consequence will soon follow. Use can also use your leverage over the passengers of the Watchful Luftrahmer, asking them questions they don’t want to answer or enacting your special abilities. When it all comes crashing down you will have to reveal your secrets to the other players. What do you really think about them? Are you secretly in love or hold a seed of resentment?

I keep an eye on one-page rpgs because they tend to be good candidates for single-session play. With only a few rules and not much room for character advancement, these games focus on giving you the basic premise of the game and the tools you have to play through it. Operation: Final Monarch gives your a very specific goal - assassinate Alexander Von Korte. You’re given a bottle setting to play this in as well - on Alexander’s blimp. I’m really interested in this game because it knows exactly what kind of experience it wants to give you, and it’s succinct and well laid out, which means that learning how to play isn’t that hard at all!

All Hands on Deck, by Alice V.

A gm-less, storytelling, Descended From the Queen game for three to six people about  a ship, its crew, and the sea they sail on. It is a game about the relationships between those people, about relying on each other, about being an individual in a team.

I wanted to spotlight a Descended from the Queen game because these games have a very unique mode of gameplay, which makes them really good for one-shot play. These games usually consist of a series of prompts attached to a regular playing card deck. Each turn consists of pulling a card from the deck, and answering the prompt related to it. Descended from the Queen games tend to be rather introspective, focusing on relationships and the ways they can affect our perceptions of events. The scenarios are also tied to each individual game, so in All Hands on Deck, the scenario involves a ships’ crew on a voyage, and the conflicts that may exist between different members due to the relationships they have to the Captain and each-other.

This Ship Is No Mother, by Thomas Manuel.

This Ship Is No Mother is a game about people in space, working jobs that are probably going to get them killed. Inspired by movies like Alien and games like Mothership and Dread, this is for fans of tension, creepy-crawlies, and general horror. Mechanically, it's a card-based Forged in the Dark game, first in the series of games currently called the Cardsharp Sonata.

In this game, players start with a full deck of cards and as you play, that deck will run down. When the deck ends, there is a climactic moment of panic as one of the characters is going to do something stupid and get themselves (and maybe everyone else) killed.

I got a chance to play this game with the creator last year and it really delivered! This Ship Is No Mother was originally designed as a way to run Mothership scenarios using a narrative system, with a time limit built in due to the fact that it uses cards instead of dice. You’ll use cards as resources, and since there’s only so many in the deck, you’ll run out of them one way or another. If you like suspense and alien horror, this is definitely worth checking out.

Games I’ve Recommended in the Past

Koboldly Go, by CoffeeSnake Studios.

Lady Blackbird, by John Harper.

Something is Wrong With the Chickens, by Elliot Davis.

The Great Soul Train Robbery, by Cloven Pine Games.

Faewater, by A Smouldering Lighthouse.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #one-shot games

[demoiselettes]

Lovestruck !

ʚ♡ɞCategory: fluff, sweet, sweet romance<3

ʚ♡ɞPairing(s): Sabito x reader/ Sanemi x reader/ Tanjiro x reader/ Zenitsu x reader

ʚ♡ɞWarning(s)/note(s): Fem! Reader, Sabito is alive pls we can’t have him dead all the time c’mon, cursing for Sanemi’s part

ʚ♡ɞ A/n: Just our loves being love-struck dorks! Finally some Tanjiro and Zenitsu on this blog! They needed the love<3 ya girl is a sucker for romance-filled oneshots/drabbles because the guy she is crushing on is a fictional character, typical stuff. Enjoy!

Sabito

•Imagine this guy having a crush on you.

•But not just any crush, he is so utterly in love with you, that it scares even him because he cannot, for the love of him, even explain the way he loses focus on everything when you’re around him.

•He’d try to push his feelings away because he is a Demon Slayer and his training and job demand utmost concentration.

•Before you start dating, he’d be a little scared or nervous to go on paired missions with you because the way his hands are sweating and trembling on his sword—due to the knowledge that the love of his life is right behind him, following him and keeping him company—cannot be good to kill demons.

•Honestly though, even if he died because of you, he wouldn’t really mind. At least it was you.

•Sabito being Sabito wouldn’t hesitate to act on his feelings because in his mind, a real man speaks his mind, or in his case, his heart.

•So don’t expect to wait for a long time before a confession smacks you in the face.

•He’s rather quiet around you. You might think he isn’t fond of you because of this since he is usually pretty loud and talkative to everyone else, specially Giyuu and Tengen.

•But when you approach him, a little switch goes off inside of him.

•The jokes stop, the pestering and pranking fade away and he only returns your queries with short answers and curt nods.

•He may or may not wear his mask more whenever you’re around.

•Because why would he ever allow you to see his red visage?

•Though it is worth mentioning that he only ever acts like this because in his mind, he does not have a chance with you. So he’d rather not let you see how completely smitten he is.

•After you both start dating, he’d be the boldest man on Earth. How could he ever hide his relationship with you? He loves you so, so much and he is proud of it, of you.

•He talks about you so much to his fellow pillars(mostly Tengen and Giyuu, again) that they have to tell him to shut up at one point. (Though Mitsuri finds your relationship so gosh-darn cute she cannot help but fan herself and turn a little red whenever Sabito speaks so fondly of you and only encourages him further to speak what is in his heart.)

•When you had just started dating, Giyuu gave your shoulder a soft little pat and wished you luck. Boi knows what it is like to deal with Sabito.

•He’d do anything, and i mean anything for you

•He treats you like you’re a fragile glass sculpture and sometimes you have to wack him on the head and remind him that you are a Demon Slayer.

•Speaking of Demon Slaying, he wouldn’t be fond to have you in the corps due to the possibility of you getting heavily injured or-God forbid-dying.

•He would try to reason with you gently and patiently to get you to leave the corps but if you refuse, he won’t impose himself on you.

•Instead, he’d train you more and hone your skills to perfection so that you’d be able your hold your own in battle and come back to him alive and without a scratch.

•Everytime you leave for a mission, he makes sure you have wisteria on you and enough first-aid supply to help a small group.

•He hates watching you leave, kissing you farewell like his life depends on it because he doesn’t know when or if you’ll come back.

•He tells himself that you are strong and that doubting you would mean he doesn’t trust you, but his love for you is stronger than the rational side of him and he always ends up worrying himself a bunch even though he hides it well to not make you worried.

Sabito leaned back to support himself with his hands, seated on the wooden engawa of the Estate. He was never one to simply relax even on a day off and make as if people weren’t dying left and right from demon attacks. But as he took in the beautiful weather—the sun warming his face and the fluffy clouds overhead passing by lazily—and the even more beautiful sight next to him, he thought that maybe he should allow himself to relax more often.

He glanced at you out of the corners of his eyes. Your eyes were droopy and your breathing had becoming soft and light. He let a grin appear on his face while his left hand lifted up to gently flick your forehead.

“Sleepy?”

“Hmm,” you couldn’t muster up too much of an elaborate answer from how heavy your mind felt with the urge to doze off and truthfully, you only half-registered what he said. But you smiled lazily when you felt warm arms wrapping around your waist and lifting you up. The moment you were positioned on his lap, you let your head rest on his chest. Now it was even harder for you to remain awake. You wanted to stay conscious to spend the day with your lover, but being wrapped up in his embrace with his chin resting lightly on top of your head with his fingers gently running through your hair was beginning to lull you to sleep faster than the medicated water Shinobu made you drink whenever she patched up your wounds after your missions.

“Love you..” you breathed out, your voice slightly slurred and barely audible but the words reached his ears anyway and had you not already been snoring away, you would have noticed the way his hold on you tightened ever so slightly and felt his lips on your forehead.

“I love you, too.” He whispered, head dipping down to press his lips to your ear. “I love you more than you can imagine.”

And once again, with you bundled up in his arms, in his haori, he told himself that days off like these should become more frequent.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

•Much like Sabito, he hates anything that interferes with his goal: that being the eradication of demons.

•Unlike Sabito, he will actually treat you harshly, in the beginning at least.

•When i say ‘harshly’ i don’t mean that he’ll become physically violent, oh no he’d sooner die than lay a finger on you, but he will act slightly more..rude to you.

•In truth, he is completely enamored with you. And when he finally realizes that he may or may not have caught feelings one lovely afternoon while he was polishing his sword and his mind kept thinking back to you, he was floored.

•Only then does he realize why he could never keep his eyes off you while you speak even if it isn’t with him, or when you are sparring or fighting. Or just breathing.

•But he doesn’t believe that love is meant for him. He hopes that Genya will leave the corps and find someone he loves and settle down with a family of his own, but Sanemi himself doesn’t have time for that.

•So he’ll try to distance himself from you, believing that if he interacts with you less, his feelings might eventually die down.

•Spoiler alert: they don’t. And now you are left with a very on edge Sanemi who is constantly worried about your well-being because he hasn’t seen you in a bit and who can’t even give training his all.

•Honestly, you’ll be in such a very confusing situation. He’ll constantly push you away and ignore you, but he’ll also fret over the smallest details of if you have eaten, if the bags under your eye look a little too prominent, if you’re tiring yourself out..

•Expressing himself emotionally isn’t his forte because he had an abusive father growing up and though his mother was a wonderful lady, she was always working to make ends meet while Sanemi himself had to take care of his younger siblings, so he never had time to properly learn how to love.

•He does know the basics though, and once he finally comes to term with his feelings, he realizes how futile it is to push you away.

•Once it becomes apparent that maybe you do reciprocate his feelings, he doesn’t waste his time in telling you about his. Don’t expect it to be too romantic, but he will try his hardest to not get too flustered and to look for the correct words.

•He might even bring you a a bouquet of flowers!

•After you start dating, he’ll soften up a bit.

•He won’t flaunt his relationship with you. It’s not that he is ashamed of it, he just won’t say anything if nobody asks. If someone does question it, he will affirm that yes he is courting you and everyone else better back tf off.

•Scary guard dog privileges Scary guard dog privileges!!

•No one dares to mess with you, whether he’s around or not because he will learn about it (he has his ways) and will make anyone who bothered you pay.

•He is a total sucker for whatever you do in general, but he loves it when you bathe with him.

•Setting aside the sexual implications, even though i can’t promise you he won’t do anything, he loves having you in the hotsprings with him and taking turns to wash each other’s backs or hair.

•It’s such an intimate moment for him, one which he thought he’d never get to experience, that he can’t help but be grateful.

•You are the only person who can touch his scars and when you do, he melts.

Sanemi huffed as steam rose from the water, warming his face uncomfortably and making him wrinkle his nose. He had his eyes closed but from somewhere near him, he could make out the gentle trickle of water and he knew it was you, either playing with the water or waddling around.

He kept his eyes closed, refusing to open them because he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop gawking at you if he did open them, and you’d never let him hear the end of it. But of course, his senses whirled in alarm as he felt the water around him move and the splashing sound got closer. He could feel you, too, even though you weren’t completely close to him. He wasn’t a pillar for no reason.

But what put him on edge was the fact that you didn’t speak. He didn’t hear anything, nor feel anything, all he could feel was your presence. What were you doing, just staring at him?

Reluctantly, he cracked an eye open and almost choked on his spit. You were right in front of him, staring up at him with the prettiest eyes he’d ever seen. You had such an innocent face, his heart hurt from how beautiful you were.

“Oi, quit doing that. You look weird,” he said instead, forcing himself to look away from your vulnerable state. You tilted your head to the side, blinking once.

“Sorry, did i make you uncomfortable? You just look so handsome..”

Ah, if only you knew the effect you had on him. Had he not known better, he would have booked an appointment with Shinobu for a heart check-up.

“You’re f*cking creepy.” He said finally, puffing air out of his nose. To others, he might have seemed menacing but you only giggled, a melodious sound to his ears.

If Sanemi could get drunk on your voice, he would.

“Sorry, ‘Nemi..i can’t help it. You’re really so cute..” your voice dropped by several octaves until it was barely a whisper.

He grumbled under his breath, ignoring the ball that lodged itself in his throat and raising a muscular arm up, nodding his chin towards it. “C’mon.”

It was nice how soft you were to the touch, cuddling against him while your fingers swirled the water gently. He could really get used to this.

Tanjiro Kamado

•What more can i say, you just scored yourself the sweetest lover!

•Tanjiro is no stranger to love as he had two loving parents growing up, and he knew they loved each other very much.

•He was aware of what love felt like and though he was slightly embarrassed to admit it, he did wish that after Muzan is defeated and Nezuko turned back into a human, he’d get to maybe marry someone whom he loves and settle down with a family.

•Of course with the responsibilities of being an older brother to three dorks a demon and being a Demon Slayer, he’d have to push those dreams aside. Then there was always the chance that he might die while on a mission.

•When you came into his life, he could have sworn the sun shone brighter, the sky was a bit more blue and the grass was greener.

•It seemed cliché and cheesy, but Tanjiro had been through so much and not once did he get time to properly breathe that when he met someone who came with a promise of love, he couldn’t help but fall hard.

•He would be so shy around you, but so chivalrous.

•He’d offer to patch up your wounds after a particularly hard mission and would try to get you to rest and take care of yourself.

•All in all, he’d be quite doting.

•With his heightened sense of smell, Tanjiro could pick up on your emotions with ease.

•He’d never try to invade your privacy, but the moment the smell of sadness or anger or despair starts looming over you like a dark cloud, he’d be there.

•He loves your signature smell, whether it be a perfume, whatever soap that you use, etc.. he’ll have it engraved in his mind and the moment he picks up on it, he’ll begin to look for you.

•He loves cooking with you, it feels like the domestic bliss that was snatched away from him.

•And of course, he loves watching you get along with Nezuko. The little cutie looks up to you as an older sister and Tanjiro approves 100%

Tanjiro patrolled the hallways of the Butterfly Estate. He had just arrived from a mission, exhausted, sleepy and most importantly, extremely [Name]-deprived. The only problem, however, was that after setting Nezuko’s box in the room where he was supposed to stay, he couldn’t find you anywhere. He walked into the sunlight to be greeted by Sumi, Naho and Kiyo. When questioned, they chirped that you were in the kitchen.

That was enough information. Quickly thanking them and spinning on his heels, he rushed back inside-heading straight for the kitchen. When he spotted you, you had draped on one of Aoi’s spare nurse uniforms over your own Demon Slayer uniform, back turned to him as you busied yourself with rolling up a rice ball.

His expression brightened so much, anyone would have thought Muzan had been defeated. He walked inside, his footsteps light. When he was finally behind you, he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Good to see you, [Name]-san, those smell really good,”

He hadn’t meant to scare you but you had been so engrossed in not messing up the food that you hadn’t registered his arrival as you normally would have. This caused you to flinch and let go of the rice ball that was sandwiched between your hands and had it not been for Tanjiro’s fast reflexes,it would have splattered on the ground.

He broke a small piece from it and popped it in his mouth, humming in approval. Another chunk soon followed and he hovered it in front of your mouth, smiling so sweetly at the sight of your red cheeks and the way your fiddled with the little ribbon tied around your waist.

“Do you not like it when i feed you?” He pouted playfully, tilting his head to the side. That was enough to earn him a giggle and you finally allowed him to feed you the piece of onigiri.

“I’m glad you’re back safe, Tanjiro-kun,” you swallowed your food, internally praising yourself for the taste. “I was worried when you didn’t answer my letter..”

A huge boulder fell on his shoulder and he placed a warm hand on top of your head, patting it gently. “I’m sorry, i was helping out Inosuke and Zenitsu the entire way, and we couldn’t rest at a Wisteria Inn, but i was very happy to receive your letter, and i’m sorry for making you worry-“

When he felt your arms wrap around his waist, his cheeks flared up. You snuggled closer to him, head resting on his chest and is it just him or do you look even more adorable than usual? He quickly followed your actions, his own arms wrapping around your frame and pulling you closed to him. He knew that if ever the two of you were caught by Aoi or Shinobu, you’d be in for a scolding, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but gently and shyly lift your chin up and bend down to place his lips on yours.

Zenitsu Agatsuma

•He worships you. Do you find that surprising?

•All his life, Zenitsu had been on a quest to find love and though he did court a couple of girls, none of them had turned out to be real.

•Love he did find, but in the oddest place.

•The Demon Slayer Corps isn’t the best place to find women to court, but who was he to complain, when he stumbled upon you?

•The moment he saw you, he did what Zenitsu always does: he threw himself at you and begged for your hand in marriage.

•He had expected a lot of reactions: for you to be disgusted, for you to be afraid and to kick him, what he hadn’t expected was for you to gently pat his head with the kindest smile and to actually consider his proposal.

•When he had lifted his head to look at you, he was certain he was gazing at an angel.

•From then on, he did whatever be could to be around you as often as possible. He doesn’t hide the fact that he loves you, he openly displays his feelings.

•When he goes on missions, he tries to bring home gifts for you.

•Even a small flower, but he hates coming to you empty-handed, even if you reassure him that he doesn’t have to give you anything.

•He craves your touch and makes it a must to give you at least one hug daily. Though if you are not fond of physical contact, he’ll try to refrain from touching you to not make you uncomfortable.

• Zenitsu has an inferiority complex and he constantly thinks that he cannot be equal to Tanjiro or Inosuke.

•If you tell him that he has his own worth and that he doesn’t have to be a good swordsman to be equal to Tanjiro or Inosuke or to compare himself at all, he’ll be yours automatically.

•Marriage proposals everyday. I don’t make the rules.

•Everything you do is a blessing to him, he’s so, so smitten.

•He does get jealous pretty easily though. He trusts you a ton, but he is always so scared that someone else might woo you away because they are better than him.

•He takes you on dates whenever possible. His ideal date is a picnic with you, you feeding him fruits or peppering his face with kisses.

Zenitsu laughed when a kiss was pressed on his cheek. He was on cloud nine literally, if you squint hard enough, you might just make out small flowers floating around him.

He reached out to gently pinch his lover’s cheek, cooing at how soft it was to the touch and admiring the way her eyes lit up and her face split into a grin.

“[Name]-chan,” he began, “you’re so cute, i don’t think i can handle it!”

Of course he was lying. Even if he couldn’t handle it, he would because just how could he ever give up his precious gem? But he could handle it, and he was going to relish in every moment spent with his angel.

“Aw, i’m sorry, Zenitsu-kun, should i try to tone it down?” Your tone was equally as light and playful as his. Your cheeks hurt from smiling but Zenitsu was such a sweetheart !

Who would have thought of him as being daring enough to sneak you away to a picnic? Truth was, when it came to you, Zenitsu was daring enough to go against the Wind Pillar himself. He had brought along mochis filled with sweet bean paste, yet as he bit into one, he remarked that the filling was nowhere as sweet as you were.

Taking note of the small bits of sticky rice stuck near the corners of your lips, which you were blissfully unaware of, he was about to reach out to wipe them away with his thumb when a thought struck him. You looked up and wondered why your boyfriend was suddenly such a prominent shade of red and why his eyes were so wide. Zenitsu could hear your confusion and he bit his tongue to not squeal. Tentatively, he leaned closer to you, with each passing second increasing the tension in the air and when he was close enough for you to feel his warm breath fanning across your face, you had to swallow to to keep yourself calm. Then he placed his lips on the corner of yours, right where the pieces of rice were and you felt him lick them away.

When he pulled away, ecstatic yet frantic that he had managed to pull such a move, he stared at you to gauge a reaction out of you, afraid he might have crossed the limits, but the way you blushed so prettily and the rapid thuds your heart gave out told him that maybe he hadn’t messed up. He was, however, pretty alarmed when you slumped in his arms and the cry that left his mouth was enough to alert the entire Butterfly Estate.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #sabito #Sanemi Shinazugawa #Tanjiro Kamado #Zenitsu agatsuma #Zenitsu x reader #Tanjiro x reader #Sanemi x reader #Sabito x reader #Sabito fluff #Sanemi fluff #Tanjiro fluff #Zenitsu fluff #Kimetsu no yaiba fluff #KNY fluff #Demon slayer fluff #nanako’s blues

[slowips]

need a little time away

childe & reader

childe returns from liyue after 2 years with great news! he is now an expert in what liyue calls feng shui, and he says your house is full of bad luck. so... what's the solution? him, of course. he'll be staying in your house.

# childhood friends, visions do not exist, fatui is not a sus organization but a well respected company, bullet fic, hot proofread, 1.6k words.

✱ this was a draft i had on this blog since the beginning of the year. i didn't have enough energy and interest to reformat or rewrite it for my writing blog, so i'll be posting it here and calling it a day. it's also partially because i forgot the plan for this story, lol. but title was given by (@)isekyaa, which i used for another childe fic.

.　⁺ . 　 ˚　✦　.　　+ ⁺　 　 . ✦

childe was a peculiar childhood friend.

you remember him telling you that fishes would sleep upside down with their bellies peeking out of the water's surface. that's a sign that you should not touch them—no matter how hungry—because it was rude to disturb the fishes sleep.

(fish is better fresh anyways, and by fresh he meant caught alive.)

he would tell you that when your hands are so cold that you can't feel them, it's caused by invisible fire in the air. you don't feel heat from the fire because it's invisible.

(since it's still a burn, it means it must be treated asap.)

shy and sweet, even though he shared things that you've learned are not quite right, he was still a joy to be around.

then one day, he went missing.

at first it wasn't alarming. children get lost in the thick forest of snezhnaya all the time. it's part of growing up. helps builds essential skills like having a good sense of direction.

but then he didn't come back home for dinner. his parents frantically called the town for help.

"my poor child," they cried. "lost in the woods with a single coat".

everyone banned together to track the lost child. he wasn’t the type to go wandering around on his own for long.

was he playing alone? was it a kidnap? did you hear any fights among their family? what urged him to run away? do you think the search is worth?

whispers and rumours grew, which dampened efforts but you trudged on in deep snow.

crunch

crunch

crunch

the gale of an impending snowstorm warns of you danger. it pushes against you as if yelling at your bad decision to press on.

crunch

crunch

crunch

you promised to find their son. you promised to find childe.

in the center of the snowstorm stands a someone with similar stature to your missing friend.

you returned with a child with blue eyes and messy orange hair, tuffs sticking out in a recognisable fashion.

you couldn’t find childe, the peculiar childhood friend.

whoever you brought back didn’t like it when you reminded him of his misunderstandings.

(“look, childe! the fishes are asleep again!”

“they’re dead. probably because of a parasite. want to catch one and see for ourselves?”

“i think i got burned by fire in the air.”

“it’s a frostbite. it’s fun to see how deep the numbness can go. want to try it with me?”)

news of his new hobby, fighting, would become the talk of the town.

there’s always an edge to his smile, a non-shine in his eyes that make it blend with the harsh environment of winter.

his parents sent him to work for the fatui. you’ve hardly ever seen him since. it was as if they couldn’t bear looking at an imposter.

“you didn’t know i came back?” childe asks at your door.

he has frequent trips overseas, and every time he returns, he’s the talk of the town. they whisper about the months he went missing, cajole at the stories he tells from his adventures overseas, and admire the man he has become.

(good with kids too, the grandmothers coo.)

he’s not wrong to say it is strange you’re surprised he’s back when this isn’t the first he greets you shortly after he returned.

in your defence, your month has been going splendid (NOT)... you’ve been distracted by so many things.

dog died, retrenched, attended a funeral for a distant relative, bumped into a cabinet that broke your family’s heirloom. anything bad imaginable felt like it happened to you.

you would say your house is haunted if snezhnaya citizens believe in ghost.

you aren’t really in the mood to greet a puppy dog smile that never quite seem to land.

before you can explain yourself, a strong wind blows. it extinguishes your flame.

(it’s backup because your heater was sent for repair.)

“you know what? we should talk inside.”

you couldn’t agree more.

as you closed the door and proceed to reignite the fire, you notice how he’s staring at your interior.

“you don’t know how my house looks?” you quip, “never changed my layout for years.”

childe remains quiet. he looks at the ceiling, then looks at the carpet.

“liyue has this idea that the way your furniture is structured should coincide with the flow of luck.”

you don’t know what he’s talking about, but it’s rude to interrupt your guest. you hum as a prompt for him to continue.

“it’s called feng shui. i practically studied it while i was there for 2 years and i know a house ridden with bad luck when i see one.”

it sounds ridiculous.

sure, you can’t deny your luck has been all over the place the past month, but it can’t be because of a layout you have for years.

child points north.

“this is the flow of luck this season. you should rearrange your furniture.”

“how so?”

“like here,” he says as he stands across the dining table parallel to your door. “horrible decision. this is the first thing your visitors see when you enter, and it should not be the dining table.”

“o-okay…”

for some reason, even if the subject of energies and whatever bores you, there’s a rhythm to how he speaks. it’s as if he’s almost (almost almost almost) like the childe you once knew.

(carefree, laid back, and innocent.)

“why in this orientation anyway?” he asks as he looks at the door then the dining table. “you’re blocking the pathway into your house.”

“my parents only drop by for a few minutes so i wanted a table close to the door.”

“not an excuse,” he says wagging a finger. “this is blocking all the luck. i’ve heard of your misfortune. never thought someone would be so unlucky to have a hail stone puncture the roof.”

you would have groaned, but knowing childe, he wasn’t done.

“do you have the stone with you still?”

“… why would you want it?”

“oh, for fun.”

there it was. that childe that told you he liked the taste of blood in his mouth.

that childe who beat up another who apparently spoke ill of you.

childe who tells you he can teach you how to survive the cold winters with a single coat. he learned it from a kind stranger.

“okay, so what should i do?” you ask to get rid of these depressing thoughts. you slump into your couch. “where should the dinning table be. my space isn’t big enough for it to be anywhere else.”

he stays quiet to examine your living room again. he’s probably already picturing the areas behind closed doors.

you really aren’t in the mood for a whole renovation, especially when you’re broke after loosing your job. plus, the dining table is a gift from your parents, so it’s not like you can discard it. they’ll probably scold you till your ears fall off when they visit next week.

“it seems like we have to mitigate the situation with something else,” he says after his thinking. “again, not an excuse to not shift what we can, but you do need a lucky charm to help chase away the bad luck.”

and he smirks.

oh, he smirks.

“what might that be?”

“it’s not a what. you should be asking who.”

“not asking.”

“it’s me.”

“didn’t ask.”

“you sure you don’t want me to solve it for you?”

it’s not like you don’t want childe to stay in your house. he has stayed for a couple of days before.

granted they were because he was kicked out of the house for whatever reason. this? this was unreasonable. you don’t know what he’s planning. feng shui or not, he’s going to need a better reason to live under your roof.

before you can push him out of your door, you can’t turn the damn knob.

what.

“it’s a sign.”

“no it’s not,” you insist as you use two hands to twist it. the door knob rattles. any more strength and you fear you’ll break it which is worse.

“you have to accept the circumstances. and, i’m trying to help.”

you look at childe, disbelief littered all over your facial features. fate is a cruel thing.

“the coldness probably froze the mechanic,” he diagnoses. “will you let me help you warm it up? i won’t cause a fire. promise.”

fine. he is right that he’s trying to help, and when he gets that door unlocked you’re kicking him out.

as you exchange places with him, leaning against the wall to watch him start a fire and use it to warm your door handle, you guess having someone who knows how to deal with these bad situations is a boon.

you guess if you’ve accepted your childhood friend is not coming back, then you can accept this too.

(unwillingly.)

when he unlocks your door, you’ve made up your mind.

“you can stay,” you say to his surprise. his face scrunches in confusion but it bursts with happiness later.

“i knew i could count on you.”

“on me? i thought you’re staying here because i’m counting on you to be my lucky charm?”

“oh, we’ll, that too.”

“you’re not telling me something.” you press your foot on the floorboard so hard you think you hear it crack. “why do you want to stay in my house?”

“you can keep me for feng shui reasons.” he raises his hand in a surrender pose. “your floor cracked, by the way. want me to fix it for you?”

you roll your eyes, too tired to say no. it will be foolish to reject free services.

“fine. i need a break.”

“rest well…?”

that’s the last thing you hear before you crumple on your bed.

#childe x reader #childe x you #childe x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #reader insert #x reader #tartaglia x y/n #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia x you #i actually... miss this writing style... i don't know. i think after working i've tried very hard to pack my sentences #but then it sort of lost that innocence of verbal telling #idk how to explain but i like this actually :3

[clnriswood]

DRACO MALFOY X CEDRIC DIGGORY X READER

Something Different | Part Eleven

a/n: hiatus is finally over and i am so excited to be be writing again hehe! i hope this longggg chapter was worth the wait. prepare for more twists and angst to come! >:)

tag list: @call-me-banana-bandit @pillowjj @truly-insatiable @natsiboo @justmesadgirl @boredoffmebox @jjjmaybank @jejegu @ superpowereddonut @irritantive @salemlilly @marshmelloyellow02 @puffymints @is-it-really-a-secret  @i-mmunity @sebastiansass @hisoldlover @kyobien @averagefangirl21 @inurealiyah @fuzzzwald @lesfleursmonet @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive  @darkqueennyx-blog  @cityintexas-dallas  @summerconcerto @awesomebooklover17 @nicodoesntexist @ashleyriddle @uglymaggot

X

It had been nearly a year since the girl had set foot inside the Room of Requirement. Nearly a year since Draco Malfoy had outed Dumbledore’s Army to Professor Umbridge, which Cedric Diggory was sure to point out to the blond the moment they set foot inside their hiding place. This room was different from the version she’d come to know during her lessons with Harry throughout her fifth year. This room was a never-ending sea of cupboards, tables, chairs, and every miscellaneous odd object one could possibly imagine. It was amongst the mess that the girl drifted, coming to a halt only when they were deep enough into the junk that even an uninvited guest would struggle to find them. The unlikely trio slowed, all three eyeing the single squashy sofa chair that sat nestled between a scratched-up desk and rickety stool.

Both boys eyed instinctively moved to give the girl the sofa chair, stepping aside to each of its arms in offer. Awkwardly, the girl pursed her lips and considered her other options. Cautiously, she ran her index finger through a line of thick dust on the nearby abandoned desk. Then, she was hoisting herself up onto it with a shrug. Disgruntled, the boys moved from the chair, Cedric upon the stool, and Malfoy choosing to lean against the empty sofa.

“So,” the girl cleared her throat, an uncomfortable quiet settling over them. “My father,” she turned to Draco. “Tell me.”

Draco’s mouth opened slowly, unsure where to begin.

“He’s alive?” she pressed.

“Yes,” the blond began rather carefully.

“Prove it,” the girl demanded at once.

He couldn’t help it. The Slytherin shook his silver-white strands of hair with a gentle laugh. Cedric didn’t look too pleased about it, or really just the whole ordeal in general, but he was sure to remain well-behaved this time around.

“How very demanding of you,” he noted with his usual edge of flirtatiousness.

The girl didn’t budge. Rather, straight-mouthed, she simply stared with urgent seriousness into the pale boy’s glittering ice-colored eyes. This was no time for his coquettishness.

“Y/N,” Draco’s mouth twisted cooly. “Surely you don’t think it’s that simple?”

“And why not?” she prodded.

“You-Know-Who,” Malfoy elaborated. “He’s very—” he paused, thinking, “—intentional. With his strategy. With what he wants people to know. And what people know right now is that your father is dead. That’s what you believe too, is it not?”

Frustratedly, the girl nodded. “Well, it’s something like that,” she breathed. This was at the bottom of her list of topics she liked to discuss, and it was one she’d kept to herself for the entirety of her life. “My mother died first, as you know.”

She swallowed. Both boys stared at her with a fixated intensity that only made her more anxious.

“They said he did it. My father, of course. Because that same night was when…” she trailed off. 

“Well, I’m sure you’ve both heard it for the last six years anyways,” she clenched her teeth together.

Still unmoving, the pair blinked in silent understanding.

“It was all over the Daily Prophet, what he did. Killing my mother, and then taking out ten muggles with him in what they deemed his horrific Voldemort-affiliated suicide.”  Both boys flinched instinctively at the sound of the wizard’s name. She inhaled a shaky gulp of air. “I was only a child, at the time. Just about Harry’s age, actually. Which is ironic,” she reflected, “because even after knowing of it all, he still… he still wanted to be my friend.” Her lips pursed in quiet contemplation before she continued. “Well, the Ministry notified me about it when it happened. Obviously, I don’t remember it well. He murdered a bunch of muggles during a fire, they said. Only, they didn’t do too much reporting on him after the fact because—”

The word hung in the air for a moment. Because. Draco and Cedric were practically leaning forward into her storm of words now.

“Because they never found a body,” she finished.

“What?” they harmonized.

“It wasn’t reported on,” she sighed. “The Ministry didn’t want to cause an unnecessary panic,” she added. “But I went to the funeral, still. It was just me and a guardian from the orphanage that they’d assigned to me from the home.”

Much like Harry, the girl’s life before Hogwarts was not one she looked back on with particular fondness.

“There was no body,” she finished. “Just an empty casket.”

Her eyes came to Cedric’s, bluish-green and sad, and Draco’s, soft and wide.

“I always just assumed it was true,” she said. “I hoped he was dead. After what he did, how could I let myself think otherwise? But then, after what you said,” she breathed, eyes falling on Draco’s. “Well, I suppose a tiny part of myself always feared it, but I never really believed it. I didn’t want to. But now,” she said, leaning forward onto her knees, “you know something.”

The blond straightened, his mouth drooping, brows creasing.

“I am sorry, Y/N,” he began sincerely, to which she shook her head. “I am,” he repeated, firm this time.

“It can’t possibly have been easy, what you went through,” Cedric added.

The boys looked briefly at each other, an unspoken exchange occurring in their stares.

“Stop,” she raised a hand with a sour-faced scowl. “I don’t want pity from either of you two, okay? I just want to know if it’s true. I need to know where he is.”

The girl turned her legs back towards Draco, sitting more upright. Reluctantly, the blond folded his arms across his chest, his long white fingers curling over the sleeves of his black robes.

“The Death Eaters,” he began. “There are whispers I’ve heard, things my father has told me. You-Know-Who’s Army is stirring. People are—” he stammered “showing up, again. People who were thought to be gone.”

Draco’s gaze turned gentler yet, sympathy swallowing his visage.

“Have you seen him then?” the Hufflepuff responded with a slow suck of air through her teeth. “Is it true?”

The Slytherin’s jaw loosened. His silence reverberated through the room, the fierceness of his gaze so consuming that for a moment it was only him and the girl in there.

“Yes,” he answered quietly. “It’s true. I’ve seen him myself.”

Her heart sank. Sure, he’d claimed it before. But this time she could feel in his words, in those eyes too, that Draco was being honest.

“Well then. I want to see him too,” she decided.

“What?” Cedric interjected at last. “Y/N—”

“I want to know exactly what happened that night,” she fired off before the brunette could get a start. “I want to hear it from his mouth,” she said. “And when he’s done,” she hopped down onto the balls of her feet with a brush of her hair behind her ears, “I’m going to kill him myself.”

Both boys froze. Cedric, a little mortified, and Draco, a little less so. It was the former who spoke first.

“Even if it were true,” Cedric argued, tarnishing Draco’s word as he did, “you’d have to get him in the same room as you. What makes you think he’d even want to do that, for starters?”

Draco Malfoy replied, so quietly that neither of his two listeners heard at first. A moment later, he cleared his throat, jaw hardening.

“He told me so,” the boy uttered, clear as day.

“What? Really? Why?” the questions left the girl’s trembling lips faster than she could process them.

“Yes. And also, I’m not one of them, before you get started,” Draco worded bitterly in Cedric’s direction for good measure. “But yes. He came to Malfoy Manor, over the Summer for one of my father’s so-called ‘meetings.’” His tone shifted displeasingly. “He cornered me one evening asking if I knew you,” he rambled, eyes flickering between the girls.’ “I told him yes. But, really, I didn’t even realize it was him until after he’d gone,” Malfoy worded cautiously. “But, looking back, what unsettles me most is how he seemed so…” his words were swallowed by momentary thought. “He seemed concerned.”

“Concerned?” the girl echoed.

“Yes,” he confirmed hesitantly. Then he added, “for you. He wanted to know,” Draco swallowed “that you were alright.”

Where the girl perhaps should have felt some form of confusion or care, she only felt even more resentful.

“You’re telling the truth?” she interrogated the blond disbelievingly.

“I am,” he bowed his head.

“Swear it,” she commanded with a step closer to him.

Draco appeared increasingly flustered. Cedric straightened as he watched in silence. His mouth loosening, Draco bore his gaze into the face of the girl who had no doubt been hurt and tricked before. She only wanted answers, answers that he alone could give her.

“I swear,” he promised, voice gravelly.

Her eyes welled with the tears she fought back.

“Okay,” she said. “I trust you,” she nodded with a little sniffle. “But I don’t trust him,”

Malfoy nodded understandingly, and he looked desperately as if he wanted to hold her, take her hand, anything. But he didn’t.

“I know,” he phrased, and it was just them again now. “I know.”

The girl allowed herself a moment, nose pointing away as she barred her emotions within the confines of her increasingly tightening chest.

“I still want to see him,” she decided, leaving her intentions intentionally vague for the moment being.

“Y/N,” he shook his head. You have no idea the danger you’d be putting yourself in,” his arms dropped, hands finding their way into his pockets.

“But,” she ignored him, “you do know how then? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Y/N,” his lashes fluttered as he repeated her name, more tenderly this time.

“Answer me,” she said, stepping in closer toward the blonde.

His lips quivered, expression reluctant, but he maintained her stare still.

“Yes,” he sighed. “Hypothetically, yes. There is a way you could speak with him.”

“Excellent,” she perked up. “How?”

Chewing at his cheek, the boy lifted a glittering ring-clad finger to the great big cabinet that stood three feet behind the girl. A vanishing cabinet, she realized at once. One that surely could connect to another outside of the school, with the right tinkering.

“No.”

Cedric’s voice cut through the exchange, quiet but unmistakable.

“No?” the girl spun to face her boyfriend. “What do you mean, no?”

“I mean,” he stood with a shake of his head. “That this is too unsafe. For you, and for everyone in the school. You’d be allowing your father, a killer, a direct path into Hogwarts. Y/N. It’s too dangerous.”

“I could keep it under control,” she objected. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s selfish,” Cedric corrected.

His words stung, red-hot and foul. For several moments, nobody so much as moved. Fighting back the flurry of emotions that crashed upon her, the girl turned her head ever so slightly. This was becoming too much, and too quickly.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” Cedric pressed his lips together, breath coming short and frustrated. “I didn’t mean—”

“I think you should go,” she silenced him.

Cedric looked like he’d been slapped across the face. Regret and hurt washed over his flushed and delicately carved cheeks. A lump formed in the boy’s throat as he turned his eyes to the old floorboards with a sorrowful shake of his head that sent brown waves spilling over his brows.

“I—” he tried, his voice awfully raspy as it lowered in plea. “Is that really what you want?”

She could barely look at him now. It’s not like she loved him any less. She knew exactly where he was coming from, and it was a place of love, no doubt. But she also knew that he would never be able to understand what this meant to her, why it mattered.

“It is, yes.”

Cedric didn’t even manage another word this time. Instead, he simply nodded. His eyes drifted from his girlfriend’s to the blond’s, and an instant dislike overwhelmed him. It was to him that he spoke his goodbyes.

“You know this isn’t the right way,” he hardened. “Please,” he bargained. “Don’t. For her.”

But the Slytherin didn't so much as budge.

“This is her life,” he murmured. “Her choice.”.

“She could get hurt—”

“You don’t think I know that?” he spat softly, silencing the Hufflepuff. “I do. Of course I do.” Two searing ice-colored eyes made their way to the girl’s stricken visage. It was her that he spoke to now. “But… I also know what it’s like to not be given a choice,” Malfoy defended quietly, his words heavy with unspoken personal implications. “And so… I won’t be the one to deny her that. I can’t be.”

Cedric, wounded, turned to his best friend with a final heavy breath. But, when she didn’t look back his way, he accepted his loss. Silently, he offered his rival a final lingering glare, one burning with resentment, and then he was gone. It was minutes later, after he’d gone, that Draco finally spoke.

“Are you alright?” his voice came, quiet and unfamiliarly gentle.

At last, the girl was able to meet his eyes again. Only this time there was no pushing back the wave of tears that clung against her reddened stare, or the unbearable tremor of her face as she wiped at it. At first, she tried to croak out something of an “I’m fine,” but after being met with a clearly disbelieving deer-in-the-headlights blink from the blond, she gave in.

“No,” her voice cracked as she ran her tongue over her lips, a strained chuckle escaping her. “I’m not okay.’

She swallowed, allowing herself another glance at the Slytherin. The boy sighed, slow and soft. She could see his fingers curling in his pockets as his tongue ran over his teeth. It was taking every ounce of control he had to maintain his distance, to not bring her close as he wished he could. No, not after she’d made clear the terms of this arrangement. She was not his to hold. But the girl had turned her attention away now and was focusing it instead on the grand cabinet that stood tall behind her.

“Alright,” she spoke to its wooden door. “How do we use this thing?”

…

Nothing said the end of the semester quite like yet another one of Slughorn’s odd and appropriately deemed ‘Slug Club’ events. This time, the frog-like professor had upped the status of his special invites from ice cream party to the real deal. Each of his guests was allowed one date, and of course, Cedric had lasted all of a minute before asking his girlfriend to join him as his official date. At the time, she had only rolled her eyes and scrunched her nose into a laugh that meant ‘yes’, but now, on the evening of its occurrence, the feeling in the air had shifted. Where a lingering excitement had begun to form for, of all things, a Slughorn party, was a newfound uncomfortability that she hadn’t quite figured out how to handle.

That night, as she descended the spinning staircase that led to the Professor’s party, a memory flashed before her eyes. The cream-colored dress she’d worn to Slughorn’s last dinner, the way Cedric’s face looked when he saw her, still clear as day in her vision. And the feeling of his fingers, warm and soft as he held her hand beneath the table. And so, midnight blue dress spilling over the curves of her shoulders and hair meticulously curled to perfection, she urged away her frustration. And, seeing her boyfriend dressed handsomely in a fitted white button-up with a dark blazer to match, she almost forgot entirely. There was that upturn of his full lips and the familiar shine engulfing his eyes, just as he’d looked the last time. It was undeniable in his face — he loved her still as he had then. Maybe more, in fact.

“Hi,” the girl exhaled with a shy smile as she reached the foot of the staircase.

“Hello,” Cedric’s voice rumbled, warm and low. “You look,” he paused, making no effort to hide the stare that traveled from the girl’s eyes to the slit in the side of her dress. “Beautiful,” he finished politely.

“Thanks,” she chuckled, her face flushing. “You don’t look too bad, yourself.”

The smile the boy offered was almost debilitatingly handsome. The two laughed quietly, the sweet moment lingering for a little before being swallowed whole by the silence it left. Nervously, Cedric let his mouth fall open.

“Erm—” he tried through a short breath, “about earlier.”

“Ced,” the girl interjected. “It’s alright.”

Cedric shook his head, gold-brown waves bouncing over his forehead and framing his bewildered gaze handsomely.

“But—”

“Look,” she tried slowly. “Can we just…forget about it? At least for right now? It’s the end of the semester, and a really long one at that” she explained. “And I’m tired, and panicked, and dreading this ordeal, and I just—” she rambled. “I love you.”

Cedric’s ocean eyes widened, his face flooded with relief and pining.

“I love you,” she repeated, stepping in closer to her best friend. She reached each of her palms to his blazer, gripping the boy by each side with an angled stare of her doe eyes at him, which did the job well enough.

“I love you too,” he murmured with a brush of his long fingers through her hair.

The boy’s right hand stopped against her cheek, thumb grazing her skin as he moved his left hand against her hip. For a moment, he only drank her in from a distance, consuming her wholly with a flicker of his eyes across her body. But soon finding himself unable to resist, he was bringing the girl forward with a tug of her face toward his lips. She raised to the tips of her toes to reach him, her left hand curling around the boy’s wrist for support as her lips opened against his with a smile. She could feel the stretch of his mouth, the mirror of his flashing teeth as he laughed warmly into her kiss, his left hand squeezing a little tightly at her waist, and then tighter yet. She paused, a surprised and eager moan of contentment caught in Cedric’s grin.

“Oh, come on. Get a room. Or a broom closet, at least.”

The two untangled themselves at once, spinning around to face their friend and spectator.

“Harry!” Y/N exclaimed with mild horror.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed back casually as if he hadn’t just caught her entangled in a rather passionate kiss with one of his best friends.

“Harry,” Cedric’s mouth went into that lopsided grin of half-embarrassment half-pride. “Good to see you, mate.”

“Was it?” Harry countered jokingly.

The girl pressed her fingertips to her temples with embarrassment.

“Of course,” Cedric huffed smartly. “It’s going to be a wonderful evening, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Ah. Yes.”  Harry forced his lips into a terribly awkward smile of encouragement. “I’m sure you’ll be having a great night.”

“Harry—” the girl straightened with a gawk.

“Yes?” he perked up with a rock forward on its heels. Then, pointing down the hall, he stopped whatever conversation was about to happen. “Well, so unfortunate to cut this short,” he declared. “But my date is arriving so I really best be—” he waved a hand at the blonde girl who stood about thirty feet away from the group.

There was Luna Lovegood, looking as Luna-y as ever in her spindly and sparkly violet dress.

“—best be going,” Harry finished. Then he did a sort of bow goodbye before promptly beginning his sprint away from the caught couple.

“Oh my God,” the girl covered her face in shame once he’d left.

“Oh, come on,” Cedric brushed his fingertips through his girlfriend’s hair as she pressed her forehead to his chest, where she hoped to be buried away from what had just happened.

“Ced. That was terrible,” she moaned into his chest.

“It was funny,” Cedric countered positively, dropping a kiss to her forehead. “Now come on,” he said, “we really have to get going.”

She pulled away, her palms resting against his opened wrists as she pouted up at him.

“Why? What’s the big rush to get to Slughorn’s party?” she asked.

“Oh,” Cedric feigned surprise. “No, not that.” He was barely holding himself together now as he wheezed through his next words. “There’s a broom cupboard,” he offered, “just down the hall.”

“Ced!” she snapped with a disgusted laugh and a smack of her hand to the boy’s chest.

The boy buckled over in laughter as she began her overdramatic storm away from him. He laughed through his pleas for her to come back, all the while.

“I’ll see you at the party!” she called over her shoulder.

“Wait!” he begged as he brought himself upright. “You can’t go running off without me, you’re my date!”

The girl paused, throwing a curtain of curls and a devilish grin over her shoulder.

“Then you had better catch me.”

. . .

The night went oddly, predictably. First, there was Hermione, spending the majority of the event hidden away from frat boy Cormac McLaggen whom she’d invited for some reason. Then there was a very uncomfortable conversation between Y/N, Luna, and Slughorn, in which Luna wound up smacking about the clouds of invisible wrackspurts that she claimed resided before the professor’s bewildered eyes. At one point Harry appeared, muttering something along the lines of ‘setting Snape’s head on fire,’ before whisking away into the crowd. And then there was Cedric, so polite as he chatted up every terribly boring guest who looked his way, his girlfriend an unwilling victim to the dull onslaught of conversations.

It was around the point that she was considering leaving when the girl saw Draco, of all people, amidst the crowd. But what was especially strange about it all was that it was Mr. Filch who was accompanying him, dragging the blond in by the collar of his black suit. Draco’s shoulders were hunched, his eyes glued to the floor with embarrassment. As Filch paraded him before the crowd, the Slytherin’s eyes dared to meet Y/N’s. They widened, then fell once again.

“Found him lurking in this corridor,” Filch declared with a turn to professor Slughorn. “He claims to have been invited to your party.”

“Okay!” Draco snapped, exasperated. His nostrils flared as those searing ice-colored daggers came up to meet his audience. “I was gatecrashing,” he admitted with an ashamed tilt of his head. “Happy?”

“Oh,” Slughorn put his hands on his hips. “Well! I suppose we do have the room, dear boy—” he began “If you’d like to stay—”

But before he could decide, Snape answered.

“I’ll escort him out.”

Two loud footfalls came slowly to a halt as the greasy-haired Professor came to a stop before the blond. Severus Snape bent his sharp nose toward the boy with a flicker of his charcoal black eyes across his guilt-stricken face. Slowly, a sneer curled onto Draco’s lips.

“Certainly, professor,” he hissed lowly.

Nobody dared to move, for a moment.

“Alright! Everyone, carry on, carry on!” Slughorn demanded with a jovial wave of his hands.

A murmur began to fill the room, then a quiet sea of conversation washed its way back to life. But, with no interest in staying anyways, the girl set her sights outside of Slughorn’s party. Without a second glance back, she reached for her wand and glided swiftly from the warm room and its twinkling string lights. Out in the corridor outside, she was surprised to see Harry Potter already standing there, leaning against the wall incredibly conspicuously.

“What are y—” the girl started to speak.

Silencing her, the boy-who-lived raised a finger to his lips in warning. Then he tilted his head to the right. From just around the corner, when it was quiet enough, she could make out Snape’s unpleasant and familiar voice.

“I’m spying on Malfoy,” Harry whispered as the girl approached him. “What are you doing?” he asked after a moment.

She sighed and stood behind him, leaning against the wall as he did.

“Same thing,” she huffed.

“Y/N? Harry?” came Cedric’s warm voice as he too emerged from the gathering.

Both friends silenced him with alarmed eyes and a demanding “SHH!”

“Sorry,” he apologized through a low murmur. “Spying on Draco?” he asked expectedly.

They both nodded.

Eyes rolling, the brunette stuffed two hands into his pockets and padded his way over to the wall, where he would tilt his ear against it as the two before him had. There, the three bent diagonally against the stone, listening as best they could.

“I swore to protect you,” came the sneer of Severus Snape.

“I don’t need your protection,” spat Draco, instantaneously.

The girl felt her stomach lurch with sadness for him. His answer was almost too-predictable. But then he dared to go on.

“I was chosen for this. Out of all others. Me.”

She swallowed, straightening with fear. From either side of her, both boys also shifted nervously at his words.

“I was chosen,” he repeated, crueler this time. “This is my moment. And I won’t fail.”

But it was just one kind of cruelty that she had long since come to recognize in the Slytherin. It bore the same spiteful intonations as the words he used to pridefully spit her way back when he still claimed he resented her. He didn’t mean what he was saying, but his words were laced with the poison of pretending like he did. Whatever was going on, he didn’t want a part of it. She deciphered that much from the quiver of his voice alone.

There was a scuffle of shoes and limbs, and then the heavier set of footsteps, Snape’s, were disappearing down the corridor. But still, Draco remained.

“I knew it,” came Cedric’s voice from behind her. “He’s with them.”

Harry turned. “He hasn’t actually admitted to anything.”

“He’s clearly entangled in something,” Cedric’s brows came together. “What else could it be?”

She could see the boy’s mind racing. She could see that he already knew the answer.

“Stop,” the girl hissed under her breath. “Both of you.”

The boys froze, staring at their friend in bewilderment.

“Can’t you hear he’s hurting?” she said with a gape. “He’s still there,” she waved a hand indicatively. “And he’s not alright.”

“What do you mean?” Harry whispered cluelessly.

“Whatever he’s bound by,” she worded vaguely. “He wants out.”

“Y/N,” Cedric chimed, shaken by her sudden defense of the Slytherin. “He just said this was his moment. He’s said it like it’s an honor, a gift.”

“But what does that even mean?” Harry stated, more to himself than to the Hufflepuffs.

“Sure, he said it,” the girl explained, aggravated. “But can’t you tell he’s lying?”

Two sets of eyes were on her again. And they were looking at her as if she were mad.

A hint of a smile grabbed at Cedric’s lips. “And… you got all of that from… his tone of voice?”

Her nostrils flared. “Yes.”

“Y/N,” he shook his head through a flustered stammer. “How can you blame me for not hearing the lengths you’ll go to in order to defend him?” There was that last word, dusted with salt and familiar bitterness. Him.

“You’re wrong,” the girl shot back, loud enough that her voice was sure to have traveled over to the next corridor. But she didn’t really care now. “And mean.”

Then she spun on her heel, hair flying as she began her march around the corner, her heels bringing a loud attention to her presence as it moved. Any remainder of Cedric’s smile vanished at once. From beside him, Harry’s green eyes widened behind his glasses from second-hand embarrassment. Even he knew he’d missed the mark. Hasteless, both boys scuttled forward to the edge of the wall, close enough to be heard but not seen.

As the girl rounded the corner, she was met with an almost eerie sight. Bathed only in the moonlight that flooded the corridor from a grand arched window, Draco Malfoy was hunched against the hall’s stone pillar, back turned stoically against the light. As the girl’s footsteps sounded, he straightened, and she could make out the familiar silhouette of his side profile as he turned his slender features against the white glow of the night. In his lavish black suit, he seemingly melted into the darkness.

“Y/N,” came the sound of his raspy voice.

He’d been crying, she confirmed silently. There it was in his voice.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked calmly toward him.

He’d guessed it without so much as a glance her way.

“Your shoes,” he murmured, clearing his throat. “Remember?”

Slowing, the girl thought back to the night he’d tried to kiss her, the same night he’d claimed to know her well enough to pick up the distinct sound of her footfalls.

“They have a way they sound,” he explained, his voice rumbling a little more warmly now. “You have a... a way that you walk.”

She swallowed, doing her best to remain composed for him.

“A way that I walk?” the girl mused softly, closing the distance between herself and the blond.

He tensed, alert. “Don’t.”

“What?” she asked softly, approaching the boy still.

“I don’t know what you think you know,” his voice dropped in warning, “but you’d do better to keep your nose out of it.”

“Okay,” his friend said at once. “But I’m not worried about that right now,” she defended, coming to a stop with a white-flag raise of her palms.

Draco didn’t dare to look at her.

“Then what?” he managed quietly.

“I—” the girl paused. She knew well enough that Cedric and Harry would be listening from just around the corner. But kindness was something she could afford to regret. “You,” she decided. “I’m worried about you, Draco.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he shot back at once. Quick and sour, just as he’d sounded a minute ago with Snape, and just as she’d sounded when she told the two boys the same thing earlier that day.

“It’s okay to admit you’re scared,” she tried with a gentle lilt of her voice. “But I…” she stepped forward, “I want to be here for you.”

This was enough. Draco turned his tall and thin frame toward the girl, his piercing ice-colored eyes meeting hers in the moonlight and sending a flurry of emotions crashing over her. The Slytherin's pale brows came together, and she noticed that they framed a reddened pair of eyes that looked even more tired at night than they did in the day. Normally, they would go on do something along the lines of what Cedric called ‘eating her,’ but this time he didn’t allow himself, which he’d gotten marginally better at since his forced acquaintanceship with the boy.

“I don’t need you,” his voice said, and his face lied.

“Let me be here for you,” the girl ignored him, a mere foot from the boy now.

“I don’t—” his lip curled and his nose scrunched, but it was softly that his next words came “—need you.”

“Please,” the girl urged, so badly wanting to make the pain leave him but not knowing how. “Draco,” cracked her voice, making him hurt all the more at the sound.

He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just stood there, lips trembling as he waited mutely for the thing that would save him. The thing that he wouldn’t say, and all of the things that he wished to but couldn’t. Unsure what else she could do, the girl decidedly closed the space between their bodies and threw her arms around the boy’s neck. She had to practically jump to reach him as her arms curled around him, forcing him to stumble into her desperate embrace. His face had barely made it to her shoulder before he began to cry, and it was so quiet that she could barely hear it. Almost like he’d practiced keeping his cries stifled, she thought.

For a moment his hands stayed stuck between the folds of his pockets, but then, slowly, they lifted. Two hands snaked around the girl’s torso. At first, he just let her hug him, his hands gripped to her in support more than anything else. But then he was sliding his arms up against her back, scooping the girl in closer to his hard chest and clutching him to her like she were his life force. She could feel the curve of his cheek to the side of her neck, could feel his rattling breaths and the tears that caught on the fabric of her midnight-colored dress. She let the edges of her fingertips brush the nape of the boy’s neck. Consciously forcing herself away, she kept them from his hair. Meanwhile, her own locks were tangled in the limbs and tear-stained cheeks of the blond, who held her in absolute silence for almost a minute before letting go.

His nose was red, his eyes, redder. But something of an almost smile traced his mouth. The boy sniffled, face glittering from the light of the moon and stars. This was the first time she’d seen him cry, she realized. And he looked more ethereal than she could’ve imagined. She wondered what his next words would be, but was surprised when they finally came.

“I’m sorry for crashing your party,” he said.

She stepped back, “don’t be.”

Draco Malfoy dared to smile, the emotion looking unfitting on his sallow face. Neither spoke, but both were thinking the same thing.

“I won’t see you until after the holidays,” he worded softly.

This was his way of telling her he would miss her.

“I guess you’re right,” she blinked up at him, her heart racing in her chest.

This was her way of saying the same.

“Well then,” he sighed heavily as a familiar melancholy pulled at his lips. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

A steady fall of snow passed the two from outside. The only sound was their breathing and the distant clamor from Slughorn’s festivities. The girl shifted her feet nervously.

“Merry Christmas, Draco.” She nodded, pressing her lips firmly together.

Both were still, neither wanting to be the first to leave. After a few seconds, it was Draco who turned to depart.

“Wait,” she said.

His eyes were back on hers now. He didn’t say a word.

“I’ll be staying with Mr. and Mrs. Diggory,” she said. “If you ever want to reach me.”

Draco Malfoy’s pale face flooded with relief. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, so he settled instead for a little bow of his head. But that was okay because she understood all the same. His two blue eyes shone with a final look of gratitude, and then he was gone.

The silence that was left in his absence was deafening, and yet the girl was unvexed when she turned and was met with the sight of two boys just down the corridor. There was Harry, looking like he’d just now realized something obvious, and there was Cedric, wrought jealousy woven through his handsome and delicate features.

#harry potter fic #harry potter fanfic #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fanfiction #harry potter imagines #draco smut #draco x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy fluff #hp fic #cedric diggory #cedric diggory fic #cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory fanfic #draco x cedric #cedric x draco #cedric x reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory smut #fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #huffelpuff reader #hp angst #writing

[mywifeellie]

Just Like Me Chapter 1 (Test Chapter)

Ellie Williams X Immune!Reader

18+ only: Ageless blogs wil be blocked

Another immune person was something both you and Ellie had let go of the idea of a long time ago. When you find each other though, the world starts to make sense in a completely different way then both of you would have ever expected. As you two discover what it means to know each other, someone who gets something no one else seems to, can you make it out of it all alive?

Tags: (Will be tagged by chapter), Ellie X Reader, Immune!Reader, non graphic injury descriptions, Gun, She threatens it with you a little, This is so short but I wanna test the waters

When Ellie found you unconscious in the woods she couldn’t fathom what you could possibly be doing out there alive. You seemed to have barely any supplies and no gear for the rainy weather this time of year. Your leg had a long slice down the side and your head had a large bump that had scabbed over. Your shoulder had an arrow wound with splintering still stuck in various spots. Who knew how many bumps and bruises were under your clothes where a first check couldn’t see. You were in rough shape but she couldn’t just leave you to die there.

She took you to the nearest safety checkpoint she knew, trying to be as careful as possible with your various injuries. You looked sickly, and your wounds looked nasty. Keeping you on the horse was hard, your limp body useless to staying upright, Luckily Shimmer knew the trail well so Ellie could keep good attention on you most of the way.

She did her best to patch you up with what she had. Wrapping your leg cleaning at the open area on your shoulder until someone more qualified could wrap it properly. Little wounds were cleaned and patched wherever she found them. Anytime you were moved she notes your breaths were shallow and when you had a response you seemed to be favoring your side. Broken or bruised ribs maybe? She couldn’t be sure but she could wrap it to keep it from moving too much and hope it wasn't stabbing through anything crucial.

If you had been moving with it, she really had to give you kudos for that one. She grabbed the bandages and got to work trying to wrap your lower ribs the best she could around your dead weight. 

It was then when she noticed it. The bumpy discolored flesh of the edge of a bite. She froze and her eyes flickered up at you and then back to the spot. She shakily pushed your shirt up further to examine it. No mistake that it was clearly from an infected. Had she just wasted time patching an infected in progress? 

No.She gasped as she processed what she was seeing. Your wound looked like hers. It looked old and healed over, as if you had it for longer than the time you should have been infected. Could it be? Could she have actually accidentally stumbled upon someone else who was immune?

She couldn’t get too hopeful. If you woke up slashing and biting she’d have no choice but to take your life. But if she was ready… would it be worth the wait to check? Would you even wake up if she couldn’t get you to Jackson?

You groaned, snapping her out of her thoughts as her eyes locked on your face. You didn’t wake though. But you had shown signs you weren’t dead just yet so despite the warning signs she didn’t move. Instead she slid your shirt back over your wound and finished wrapping your ribs, and then placed herself a safe distance away with her shotgun ready. If you were unsafe she would blow your head off and if you were safe.. She wasn’t sure. 

Now all she could do though was wait and see.

–

When you did wake up it wasn’t screaming and looking for the nearest hunt, it was whining in pain and trying hard to understand if you were in danger from the gun pointed at you across the room. You moved so slowly sitting up and there was no gunshot. The room was shaded with only a bit of light coming through some boarded windows, and the air was old despite its cold crisp. 

You assessed that your head had something on it and that your shoulder hurt like a bitch. Your ribs were making it hard to do more than take a few small breaths at a time. You realized your ribs were wrapped the longer you focused. Oh no, had they- Your hand flew to your side to clutch at it.

“The bite.” You felt ice cold blood run through you as the fear set in. They had seen it, and didn’t sound pleased. “How god damn old is it?” Her voice was rough, like she hadn’t been using it for a while, but strong with confidence nonetheless. Her eyes were dark with something you couldn’t identify. Her face was hard set and her gun was held by a steady hand.

“It’s old. It’s old!” You gasped out. “Please believe me. I’m not infected, Not really. It’s been years. ” Your eyes welled with stressed tears and pain as your breathing picked up against your ribs. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You didn’t want to die here alone at the hands of a stranger. Your eyes couldn’t move off the shotgun, aimed squarely for the center for your skull. “Please.”

But to your surprise the gun lowered a bit. “You’re not lyin’ to live? That bite’s really that old?” She squinted. “If you make one wrong move I’ll have to shoot you, so don’t waste my time if that’s you telling me a tale.”

You nodded your head slowly. “It is. I promise. I don’t know how- I just never turned. I swear I wouldn’t lie.”

The gun lowered into her lap and her hand moved to the sleeve of her right arm. You watched her curiously as she took a deep breath and slowly pulled up her own sleeve to show you something. The bite was just like yours. Or almost. It looked less like a bite, but the discoloration and the bumpiness was hard to mistake when you knew what yours looked like. Your jaw dropped. “That’s- I was told I was the only one.”

She nodded. “I just never found anyone else.” Her sleeve was put back down and she pushed herself to her feet, her gun left to the floor. She sighed and gave you a long stare that made you avert your eyes a bit. Then after a pause that was just slightly too long she spoke.

“You should sleep more. I need to take you to see someone who can heal you up right, and you can’t travel if I can’t keep you awake on Shimmer. I know someone who can help who won’t mind your bite.” You find yourself nodding slowly.  You found that you trusted her not to try anything funny, and after knowing that you shared something so important you doubted she’d let anything happen to you if she could help it. After all she had gone through so much effort to save your life out there. . Without a fight you shut your eyes and let your mind, reeling with new information, take you off to sleep.

#fics #my house #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams fanfic #tlou fanfiction #immune!reader #x reader

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

Hey, I’ll send in a Milgram related ask too! To drum up some Shidou intrigue, what do you think about the theory that Shidou decided to steal organs from his kid to give to his wife?

If you aren’t aware, it mostly stems from the scene at 1:48 of Triage when he hands his son one of the fruit tags. The idea would be that if both the kid and the wife were in a vegetative state, Shidou decided it was worth it to kill his kid for sure in order to have a higher chance of saving his wife (matching genetic structures and all that).

Given that I’m not even certain it’s scientifically possible, I’m on the fence, but I’d love to hear if you had any input on it!

(Damn, this blog really is 90% asks huh. Well I do enjoy answering them so)

Hey! It's an interesting idea, especially considering the guy is paired with Mahiru, but I'm not sure it works all that well. I'l give my reasoning for that conclusion and then I accidentally made a theory about what the scientific purposes of Shidou's work were oops.

CW: Murder, organ harvesting, human experimentation.

For one, it really seems like Shidou loved all his family, not just his lover.

(T1) Q3: Is there anything you treasure?

S: Family.

Family, not romantic love.

(T2) Q10: Do you like children?

S: Of course.

This one's a bit vaguer, but still.

But the main thing which makes this theory extremely unlikely in my eyes is this:

(T1) Q14: If you could bring someone back to life, who would you choose?

S: I can't choose anyone.

Since we know there are people he'd like to bring back, the idea that Shidou can't choose who to bring back to life implies he has multiple people he would want to save from death. The issue there is that taking organs from his child/children would very directly mean he chose his wife over him/them, which is inconsistent with this answer, and his general attitude towards everyone in his family.

If you want my interpretation of that scene, well, let's look at the line said as Shidou hands his kid the tag.

Those cards of promise I discarded They were retribution for my incessant taking

Note that "cards of promise" might refer to the death tags. The "promise" would be that Shidou keeps the braindead people alive, and he discarded the cards because he killed a bunch of people without worrying too much about it. But now he's getting the "cards of promise" as retribution, because his own family has met a similar fate to the one of the people he killed. The first line makes it a bit more clear.

Those cards of promise I discarded Were they retribution for my incessant taking In that case, I should have been the one That’s the correct answer, but then why

So he feels he should have been the one to die.

That does sorta make it sound like, by giving his kid the "card of promise", he's killing the child, but I actually think it's the other way around. Note that the card first falls from the air, then Shidou hands it to the kid, sorta implying it's someone elses. If you look at Throw Down, the death tag of his wife seems to come directly from her, it doesn't just fall from the air.

(And yes, that is his wife. Even beyond what the flower figure looks like, the death tag has XY crossed out while XX is left alone. Since all death tags have both sets, it can be assumed the corpse at the end of Throw Down is meant to be a woman by sex because chromosomes)

Thus, I think what this scene might be trying to show is that Shidou wasn't taking organs just for his wife, but for his children too.

Or maybe child.

This is the obligatory part of my posts where I go insane. The kid is still alive and standing in the scene, so what this could imply is that Shidou began killing for this child before the pressumed accident.

This is where I bring in the fact that Shidou claimed in his 2nd VD that he also took organs for scientific purposes, and from his Voice Reveal jumbled quote, it seems to have happened before shit went down.

Shidou: [Cackling] Not dead... Yeah, she's definitely not dead... I finally understand the value of what I've been robbing people of...

So he's been robbing people of their braindead family members before his wife became braindead herself.

So, here's what I think. Shidou's child, the one from this scene, had some sort of illness of some kind, and Shidou began experimenting with organ harvesting to see if he could cure it. Don't ask me what the hell he was actually planning to do, but that's the idea. The whole science side of this storyline feels to me like it isn't meant to be 100% accurate to reality, but that's just my opinion.

This could also explain why his Voice Reveal thingy only mentions a she (or a name of three letters I guess, seeing as it's all blacked out, but you know), and why we only see her in Throw Down, without having him kill the child to explain the Triage scene in question. It's possible both his children died instantly in whatever accident they got into, but his wife survived in a vegetative state. And in that moment, Shidou began trying to use what he learnt from his experimentation to save her by harvesting more organs.

I think this works decently enough, even if like you said, the actual science is questionable at best. I mean, it clearly didn't work, so.

Is this something? I feel I'd be more confident if I could scan the damn QR code in the death tag of that scene, but I assume it just takes you to the Judge page like the ones from Backdraft.

Anyways, hope that answered your question! Take care!

#milgram #milgram project #milgram theory #shidou kirisaki #triage mv #throw down mv

[yzafre]

So been thinking lately about how way back (somewhere 5-10 years ago? that's when I followed the most dp blogs, at least) there were a lot of posts around people imagining a Danny Phantom reboot. I read a lot of them, probably reblogged some of them, but with my chronically-late-to-the-party disease I'm only really playing around with my own ideas now.

probably to procrastinate on that other project I should be working on shhhhh

So. How would I put together a DP reboot? Not necessarily what the best way is, but what would I want to do. I really like outlining, so this is a fun little thought experiment even though I should really be writing

Okay, so to start out with - what's that one post? What I want from fandom is not what I want from canon? There is… a lot of DP fanon out there that's really fun, but definitely should be restricted to fanon only (at least in it's typical form).

After that: format of the show. There's a lot more styles of kid cartoons now-a-days, and a lot of shows on the spectrum from serialized/progressive story to monster of the week. I think I would put this more on the pure monster of the week half. More Teen Titans than Avatar.

Or, well, if I'm being really honest, more like Leverage.

Leverage is a heist show with a very strong cast of characters, where each episode had a different target, so you could largely watch any episode and understand the plot fully. There were season-long "villains" that would be taken down in the season finale, but their involvement in the rest of the season's episodes was very limited.

The biggest connection here, though, is that throughout its five seasons the characters had very strong character progression - the characters were still recognizable between season 1 and season 5, but they were also noticeably different.

They learned lessons and had development throughout, and that was really the heart of the show - seeing them learn and grown and heal and become better people together. And it was consistent, not backtracking whenever they wanted for the sake of an episode idea (be real, we all just thought of an episode name).

So, rather than developing intricate plot arcs, I think I would want this hypothetical reboot to instead focus on thematic arcs each season, that could be injected into individual monster-of-the-week plots, leading up to the big resolution in the season finale.

And that's why I think the first season finale would be Spectra.

"Spectra?" I can hear you say, "I mean, she's memorable, but is she really finale-worth? What about a Freakshow, or a Pariah Dark, or a Dan?"

Look, just - hear me out. See my vision.

So I want to loop back to that concept from earlier of fanon vs canon, and look at one of the core concepts of the show: Danny's ghost powers, and what they mean. Now, while it's not… terribly clear in canon, I think the original intent (per the theme song) was that he just had mutated DNA that gave him ghost powers.

Of course, all of us watching took one look and threw that in the trash and went "nah, he's half ghost, thus half dead". And rightfully so! Much more interesting.

Why not take that into the hypothetical reboot, then, make something of a meta-commentary, a dialogue with the original? Have that be something Danny goes back and forth over throughout the season? Maybe in the beginning he very confidently asserts that he was just mutated, it's just powers… but as things seem to contradict that, there's an internal struggle, he's not dead, he's obviously alive, he can't be dead -

And if that's the internal struggle he's over-coming through the first season, who better to force the final confrontation within himself than Spectra?

#danny phantom #late night brain-dumping

[edgingtanja]

The End

My blog of edgingtanja is coming to an end. At least temporarily, but maybe permanently.

I’ve experienced many amazing things here and met amazing people. I come from a place of severe self doubt, depression, anxiety, and other mental baggage. In LGBTQIA+ I identified as the „A“, asexual. But I was shown I have a sexuality in me which is worth living. I think edgingtanja has experienced on Tumblr what can be experienced here. It is now time to go home and go back into the real world, put the phones down. And it’s time to say Good-Bye.

I’ve learned you can pause secondary blogs or set them to private/invisible. This is not possible with main blogs, and this is my main and only one. So that is not an option.

I’m close to 1800 followers and I know some came to like me. My content reaches 5 years back. I’m not decided yet if I should delete it all and move on with my life. That decision will come with time. I don’t want to rush it now, as I’m not in a stable place right now.

Maybe I’ll keep it online, but without new content. Just to have my stream of updates to see what YOU are doing. Since I came to like some of you 1800… I would miss that. You can write to me, while the blog is still here. Don’t expect an answer, but you can always hope for one. Do not ask me why the sudden change. This I won’t answer, just as much as this, you don’t know how panic attacks and anxiety work.

I’m not planning to continue to write or journal here. If you are new, start at the past, the oldest post and work your way to the present day, otherwise my mess will not make any sense.

My old „pinned post“ or „about me“ will remain below, in a shortened form. For now. Maybe I should just move on and close the account already. Maybe I wait. Maybe I will be back sometime in the future. My blog was silent for months or even a year before as well. It’s a decision I’m not going to rush.

I got the email that my data is ready for download.

So this blog was about healing traumata. I wrote in my 2018 post my goal was to overcome sexual disinterest and disfunction and try to heal my mental and anxiety issues.

So did it work? Was it worth it?

It’s a partial success at best, but it is a success. I would not want to miss the journey I had experienced in the last 5 years. There have been major downs. The death of my father, a pandemic, the death of my boss, anxiety for job loss, financial insecurity, anxiety for my elderly mother of whom I’m the caretaker. Anxiety for x and anxiety for y. And now I end my blog here because of anxiety issues. Because I cry too much. I accept that this, I could not heal.

I still say it is a success because a very dear friend of mine showed me I’m not as sexually dysfunctional as I believed. My self worth is not below zero anymore. I’m not the frigid stick figure. I can get wet, on my own, with no lube. It’s on my ex when I can’t orgasm with him, not me being broken. I can scream when edging. I’m not dead inside. Thank you, thank you so much.

Any yet, it’s time to go, take a step back, and … I don’t know yet. But here, I can not continue as before. I need to stop soon, as I feel the tears are coming again.

My loves goes out, in no particular order (I’m not in the capacity to sort you now in any meaningful way!) to

@gooncaps69 @dommeana @deniedpet @alwaysopposites @duca-etereo @curiousonick76 @kokos201 @omgjustaperv @z--z--z-z @lynngoons and many I forgot here. Forgive me.

Stepping back from the internet and back to my normal life.

Update: would I have installed the tumbler app if I’d known it would make me cry and weep? Yes, anytime every time. I feel more alive than before.

Update2: I lied about my age. It was sitting the first years at 39. Then 41. The real me is 50, im scared of aging, I’m sorry if this disillusioned you, or if you think I should be more stable or grown up by now. The sun is coming back up, I’ll wipe my eyes and have a coffee outside in the warm rays.

I love you all, Tanja

The old, shortened „about me“ post, copy pasted.

So hi, I’m Tanja, or edgingtanja here. 41, fem, public servant, from Western Europe. I made a pinned post here to let you know the import stuff. This is a blog about coming out of asexuality, self-doubt, anxiety and mental health. LGBTQIA* friendly, I identify as the "A" in that!

This blog contains erotica (in text only) and descriptions of my journey into LGBTQIA*, discovering maybe B and maybe L? Trying to overcome sexual disinterest and disfunction and try to heal my mental and anxiety issues by communicating with like-minded and open-minded people on tumblr.

Of course, I’m into orgasm denial, edge games and related stuff. I’ve issues, low self-esteem since I’m a “stick”, tall and thin, a “flattie”, an “ironing board”, my breasts are tiny. As teenager I was always deeply humiliated about it. I still feel deeply sexually inadequate because of my body shape. Discovering bisexuality may be in my future. I’m submissive I guess, but I try my hardest to dominate the crap out of everyone to show weakness. I’ve been suffering in depression. For the sexual part of my depression and anxiety I use tumblr as a safe space to try to heal myself by embracing and exploring my humiliation in a playful way.

#me

[neoma-eltanin]

Little update!

I’ve had this blog for quite a while now. All the way back in 2016 I started it, and at that time I only had one character. Since then I have slowly added more characters to the list, but I’ve never properly introduced them or informed about them! I’ve been really slow about it, but I am trying to rework my blog to adapt and include information for all of them. I will probably make an announcement when it is finally complete.

I am very much active still with playing the game and roleplaying, and I am having a lot of fun! My blog has been a bit lackluster when it comes to content, but I am hoping to change that!

I figured I should show which characters I am actually active with on this blog:

Neoma Eltanin

I’m sure most of you know who this is, as she was my first character and my blog is named after her! Neoma is an adventuring conjurer currently employed at the Merciful Bough, a company of mercenaries for hire, located in the Lavender Beds. She is a gentle soul known for her kind smile and friendly nature, who grew up in the previously Garlean-occupied Yanxia before one day coming to Gridania on her own to learn the arts of healing magic.

Cyrus Eltanin

A stern and stubborn samurai of Yanxia, he is Neoma’s older brother who still resides in the village of Hashidoi where they grew up. His hard features hide a soft heart, and he is a pillar for the other villagers’ trust and support. He constantly worries for his sister while keeping himself busy looking after their mother and additional house members that ended up becoming part of the family due to interesting circumstances.

Kjirsa Iryut

An independent and confident thief who lures her targets with sweet words and alluring glances. Kjirsa left the Golmore Jungle where she grew up to search for her missing brother wherever he might be, not knowing whether he is alive or dead. She takes pleasure in the freedom she has found traveling from place to place and is a fiery, carefree woman who does not care for others’ opinion on herself and her life.

Erjon Sjadarwesfv

A person with little to no expressions on his face, Erjon is an experienced engineer and gunman who spent much of his life serving the Garlean Empire after being forcefully recruited when he was still considered young of age for a Viera. After deserting and coming to Eorzea, he opts to keep this part of his past hidden from most as to not end up in any unwanted conflicts. Known for being sarcastic and emotionally distant, he is currently employed at the Merciful Bough in the Lavender Beds.

Severin d’Aumont

Severin is my one and only character who is actually a villain, as he is a serial killer. House Aumont may not be one of the major houses of Ishgard, but they serve as a pillar for the grand city by providing its inhabitants with means of keeping themselves warm and clothed in the frigid temperatures. The lord of the house himself is known for his generous and amiable nature, which unfortunately hides an unknown truth that is selfish, uncaring and bored. He keeps himself entertained in ways only known to the dark of his heart.

Alari Nelhah

Young, inexperienced and remarkably clumsy, Alari was recently banished from her Keeper clan due to her inability to provide for them, rather causing them more trouble than what was worth. Purely by chance she ended up being employed by the Merciful Bough, mostly as a kind gesture so she would have a place to stay. While trained in archery, she unfortunately has a terrible aim. Due to her many mishappenings she is a shy, insecure and nervous girl who has a long way to go to find strength in herself and grow some confidence.

Baruun & Zyyn Himaa

The Himaa twins are two characters played by me and @ffxivtribehydrae​! Known for being troublemakers ever since their younger years growing up in their tribe on the Azim Steppe, the twins had to flee their homeland after their reckless games caused the Reunion to be destroyed. Eventually they would end up in Eorzea and become adventurers, exploring the land and causing mischief wherever they went. They are currently employed at the Merciful Bough.

#ffxiv #ff14 #little update post! #or not so little this post became pretty long #I have so many characters now #will probably reblog it a few times #and keep it pinned for a while #Neoma Eltanin #Cyrus Eltanin #Kjirsa Iryut #Erjon Sjadarwesfv #Severin d'Aumont #Alari Nelhah #Baruun & Zyyn Himaa

[sshewonders]

✦ MAIN MASTERLIST ✦

Hi there! I'm Lilian Grey, and welcome to my blog!

I've been on Tumblr for almost 3 years now, but I haven't posted many stories yet since I mostly enjoy reading here and used to be active on Wattpad. You can also find me on Wattpad with the same username. English is not my primary language, so if I make any mistakes in writing, please feel free to let me know.

Anyway, please enjoy reading my stories, as writing them is my way of finding comfort and expressing everything that's going on in my mind. Thank you!

SERIES [✓]

WARM BODIES

✧pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Grimes!Reader

✧era: Season 1 - ???

✧status: incomplete, work in progress

✧synopsis: You found yourself in the heart of the apocalypse, a world where the chance to reclaim your old life felt like a distant memory. Just before everything crumbled, you were the kind of person longing to vanish, forgotten and, in short, no longer alive. Ironically, amid the end of the world, that desire to fade away persisted. Fate played a trick on you when a certain crossbow-wielding redneck barged into your life, finding a crack in your sealed and abandoned heart. From that unexpected meeting, you unearthed something worth surviving for - a blend of hope and love that brought life to your previously desolate existence.

✧author's notes/disclaimer: This excerpt is from my published book on Wattpad, which still retains the same title and username. However, it differs from the original as it's not written in the second person point of view, and it doesn't involve a Daryl Dixon x Female Reader but instead features an OC. On Tumblr, the narrative will shift to a Reader, but the character maintains her own detailed backstory. Despite being related to Rick Grimes, I will endeavor not to delve into minute details about her appearance. I hope you enjoy this adaptation. Additionally, chapters marked with "✦" indicate that they contain triggering scenes. Thank you.

CLICK HERE TO BE PART OF THE TAGLIST!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃: 𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝟏

001: Stranger, Danger

002: The Quarry

003: The Archer 🏹

004: Back to the Camp

005: Doubtful

006: Vanished

007: Trust Me

008: Bit of Banter

009: Spill the beans

010: Promises? Nah

THE WALKING DEAD

💥 [angst] ; 💞 [fluff] ; 🩸 [smut] ; 🔞 [dark themed]

RICK GRIMES ↓

↝ CONSEQUENCES [coming soon]

↻ Rick Grimes x Walsh!Fem!Teen!Reader [💞💥🔞] ; After extinguishing his best friend's life, Rick Grimes ought to have grasped the significance of the age-old adage. The world dropped subtle hints that he should've heeded that fateful night—hints he failed to recognize. Little did he know, the repercussions of overlooking those signs were about to unfold in a way he never imagined.

#masterlist #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl x reader #norman reedus #the walking dead #rick grimes sister #rick grimes #norman reedus x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon twd