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solbaby7 · 3 months

Note

Az is so🤤🤤 toxic men in real life repulsive me but Az does it soooo well.

Can you do a slutatious reader meets possessive Az?

Like he refuses to make it official so she continues about her life and he stay hearing rumors about her activities. He doesn’t want to be another fuck buddy but he’s also holding back from her and that pisses her off and encourages her to continue w her endeavors.

I’m talking screaming fighting throwing shit toxic🤭

i love your work mamita, I’ll read ur fics all day😩🤧

Maneater

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: toxic relationships, possessive!az, promiscuous girl, swearing, sexual themes, lemme just say thank god for this request, probably typos

—

“You’re not wearing that.”

“And who’s going to stop me?” The retort comes easily, all too familiar with this dance. You continue as if he’s not there, staring at the material that molds to your curves like second skin. The entire back is out, the sultry swoop accentuating the fullness of your ass even if the front was fairly tame. Curled hair is flicked over your shoulder, lashes flirty and lips glossy as you reach for your clutch.

A shadow beats you to it, sliding the clutch just out of your reach and a slightly agitated smile quirks at the corner of your mouth as you turn to face him. “I mean it. If that’s what you’re wearing, then you aren’t going.”

A brow raises, eyes taking in the perfect structure of Azriel’s face, the strong neckline and tattoos that crept up the left side. Rippling muscles strain against the black top; a pleasant contrast from his usual leathers and you nearly forget his audacity when appreciating his physique. “You must have the wrong room, Az.” You can’t help yourself but to touch, two manicured fingers dragging down the middle of his abdomen. Nails catch on the belt holding his breeches in place and the teasing tug has his pupils dilating. “Possibly confused me with one of those simpering females with damsel in distress tendencies? The ones who actually allow the tone you’re taking with me right now. ”

“I know exactly whose room I’m in,” Unashamed possessiveness radiates from every word and the step he takes to close the distance has an annoying effect on your body. “Just like I know exactly who won’t be leaving it if you don’t walk back over to that closet and change.”

“I have no reason to listen to you,” Azriel refused to admit it out loud, but he secretly loved this part—the pushback. The flirtatious flutter of your lashes and the seductive scent lacing every inch of glistening skin. “You have no claim over me. I’m a free female,” You know exactly what you’re doing; goading him with the same implications of the relationship that you and Azriel had been dancing around for the better part of a decade. It could’ve been different, could’ve spent more time making love rather than hate fucking against any sturdy surface after the shadowsingers jealousy had gotten the best of him after hearing yet another rumor about your latest conquest. “Free to do whom and whatever I please.”

He’s too good at feigning restraint when he truly was grappling for purchase; falling victim to such feminine curves and unwavering confidence. You peered up at him without fear, heart rate steady in his presence and he just barely catches the slightest hitch of your breath when Azriel’s hand wander up the bodice of the dress. Familiar fingers brush over the thick of your thighs, up the soft curve of your belly, taking special time over supple breasts and peaked nipples. Foolishly, you lean into the touch, goosebumps beginning to dot at your spine when the fabric rips in two. “It’s adorable that you believe that.” He doesn’t acknowledge your surprised expression, hands hovering over the ruined material as if it would magically sew back together. “Don’t ever make me repeat myself again.”

“You just—“

“I will see you there—in something much more appropriate, I’m sure.”

Azriel’s gone before you can respond, a humorless laugh passing glossy lips as you shuck off the remnants of your dress. High heels stomp against hardwood floors as you make your way to the closet, ripping through shades of deep navy’s and obsidian until your sights set on a sexy little number saved for special occasions.

A sinister smirk forms as you slip into it, eyes almost sparkling as you regard yourself in the full length mirror.

The halter neckline crosses at the chest, cupping cleavage with ease as the intricate golden bustier cinches at your sides, creating the illusion of wider hips and ensures nothing less than an elegant posture when you stride inside. Soft silks and chiffon kisses at the length of your legs, grazing over painted toes in painfully high heels but it pulls the attention you were searching for. Necks craning and hungry eyes eat up every dip and curve of your figure, mouths salivating at the liquid gold that pushes up the weight of your breasts. “You’re late,” Rhysand voice murmurs in your mind, utter boredom creeping into his every feature.

Your eyes slide to Azriel when you answer, anticipation buzzing beneath the surface of your body. “Wardrobe malfunction.”

To anyone else, the shadowsinger would appear to be the embodiment of stoicism.

But you knew that hard line of his shoulders, the barely restrained tick of his jaw, the slight flexing of his fingers around the thick arms crossed over his chest. The firelight crackles around him, golden light casting perfect shadows that nearly blend seamlessly to the ones that sang to him. With each step closer to the dias, those shadows grow more agitated, wiggling restlessly at Azriel’s feet, stretching up the length of his back to whisper in his ear.

You play coy too well, nodding respectfully to the High Lord and Lady before taking your place but those shadows shove you in closer. Close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Azriel’s towering form, the wings held high behind him subconsciously tucking you out of view. “Appropriate enough for you?”

“You are the most stubborn female I have ever met in my entire life.”

“I wouldn’t have to be if you’d just admit it.”

He pretends not to care, masking desperate glances with hardened side eyes. The grip on his crossed arms gets tighter, barely refraining from the urge to drag you away from all the eyes greedily eating up your form as if it were a six-course meal with desserts on the side. “Admit what?”

“That you want me.”

That you love me the same way I love you.

That you don’t want it to just be a game anymore either.

Azriel doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t even look your way but the sneer that curls at the edge of his perfect mouth was enough to have your confidence faltering. “I have better things to do with my time than chase after some harlot.”

Your brows snap up, nearly blending in with the seam of your hairline. He regrets every word when the teasing spark fades from your eye. Taking a sizable step away from him, your face goes hard like steel, nose scrunching with barely concealed humiliation and your teeth bare like a wild animal when Azriel reaches out to touch. “Don’t,” Angry tears make your eyes go glassy but not once does your voice waver. “Just stay the hell away from me.”

Rhys had already dismissed the others, waving a lazy hand and music fills the space. The strong smell of food permeating the air and you’re quick to blend into the gathering crowd, making a beeline for the elegant champagne pyramid tucked on the other side of the room.

Your hands shake when you grab the first glass, taking it back more like a shot than a classy sip of the flute but you just needed your hands to stop shaking—your heart to stop racing. One drink quickly turns to three and you’re well on your way to a fourth when a hand curls around your shoulder. “Fueling up for me?” The familiar drawl of Autumn’s first born heir reaches your ear, halting your display of gluttony.

This was why you were here—in Hewn City, prancing about the Court of Nightmares. Acting as a pretty faced guide the Night Court provided as light entertainment before Eris would be escorted off to the private meeting room two halls down. You’d amuse a few dances, allow him to talk your ear off and pretend you don’t notice his fingers inching down the curve of your spine. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world to prepare me for you, Vanserra.”

His brow raises, a sly smirk growing as the lights from the iron-wrought chandeliers casted their shadows against the burnt copper of his hair. Warm eyes trail down the length of your form, a single finger twitching when taking in intricate details of your gold bodice; the rich fabric that was so dark it almost seemed blue in certain light. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No, I’m just hot and talking.”

Eris is just as bold as you remember, laughing softly under your breath at his proximity when you’ve turned around for another glass but a quick hand has swiped it from your grasp before a single drop can coat your tongue. “You’re testy tonight.” You can feel the cool caress of Az’s shadows curling around your ankle, a silent claim that has your teeth gritting against each other.

For once, you amuse the Autumn heir and his playful fire, dancing into the thick of his flame when you allow him to finish your drink and guide you to the dance floor with the others. “I double booked,” You lie easily, following his lead effortlessly as if you didn’t feel that cool wisp of a shadow steadily clamping tighter against your ankle. Low chatter blocks out the ability for others to eavesdrop but you can feel those golden eyes burning holes into the side of your face—to the bare strip of skin at your hip where Eris’ hand rested for the entire duration of the dance. “Can’t help the attitude that lingers knowing that I have to spend my night prattling about with you when I could’ve been indulging in multiple orgasms.”

A laugh that’s smooth like whiskey escapes Eris, a hint of a dimple forming on his left cheek and you hate that you notice the perfect lines of his teeth; his bottom lip that was fuller than the top, the slight bump on the bridge of his nose indicating it’d definitely been broken at least once in his life. “There’s ample time before my meeting if you’d like to have your cake and eat it too.”

“Maybe I’d agree,” You make a show out of examining him, subtly inhaling the spice of his cologne. Handsome but not Azriel. “If the ‘cake’ was a different flavor.”

Eris doesn’t falter for a second, even with the entirety of your Inner Circle’s attention fixed on him and the hands he had on your body. The deep baritone of his voice rumbles against your chest, nipples pebbling at the sensation. “Close your eyes then,” Words whisper at the lobe of your ear and the glittering jewel poked through it. “You can pretend I’m whoever you want with my tongue between your thighs.”

A witty remark crawls to the tip of your tongue, readying itself to leap off when that ghost chain around your leg pulls taut. There’s only enough time for your eyes to widen before you’re tugged away from Eris like a dog on a leash. It leads you out of the room and into the hall, refusing to loosen even a touch when you stubbornly resist but there’s no point when you’re cloaked in shadows. You barely notice the scenery change before you’re back at home and tossed over a shoulder. “You stupid, brutish, ape of a male!” Your shouts echo through the empty halls, bouncing off closed doors as Azriel strides through the foyer like he was on a mission. “Put me down right now!” Every word is coupled with the palms of your hands slapping at his thighs and digging into the back of his knees. One hand cranes back to dig into the thick of his hair and tug—hard.

Azriel’s hand is harder though, pure heat burning against the skin of your ass when it connects with a deafening clap. “Shut up.”

Your jostled back into place, cheeks warm and hands frozen where they’re bunched in the fine material of his dress shirt. “Az—“

His hand comes down once more and this time you yelp, teeth biting into the fat of your bottom lip as he clears the stairs and makes a sharp left. “I told you to shut up.”

Every bone in your body screams for you to comply, primal instincts igniting deep within advising you take the route of self-preservation but your pride overrides better judgement. “And I told you, I’m a free female. Let me go, right now!” You squirm once more, legs kicking and arms clawing for release when you’re roughly thrown off his shoulder and shoved into the wall in a motion so fluid it takes the air from your lungs.

Fuck your pride for letting her mouth write checks your ass couldn’t cash.

You’d never seen such darkness in such a vast sea of gold, the whole pupil of Azriel’s eyes blown out like a feral animal salivating at the mouth. “Do you feel like a free female right now?” He already knows the answer judging by the pleased smirk beginning to creep in the corner of his mouth at the sight of his shadows holding your hands in place.

You swallow thickly, annoyingly affected by his closeness and the hard bulge that throbs at your belly when he curls a hand around your neck, nose brushing your own. “I certainly don’t feel like I belong to you.”

“I can fix that.” It’s a promise. One you silently scold yourself for praying that it’s a promise he makes good on.

The Mother has favorites and tonight you must be one of them.

The kiss Azriel initiates is nothing short of brutal; the drag of his tongue across the seam of your lips his only kindness before gaining access and completely dominating from the inside out. Every touch is claiming; a strong hand calloused from centuries of skilled swordplay is generous when easing off the expensive gold bodice before the delicate fabric beneath is torn to shreds. Pretty strips of dark material spills to the floor, left for the house to clean as your thighs are gripped and your weight is hoisted up, legs cradling the muscular taper of Azriel’s waist.

He’s sucking marks into your neck, back pressed against the wall as his teeth graze at the sensitive skin there. Breasts spill from the confines of your bra, straps eased down your shoulders to make more room for his mouth to lay claim to. Azriel pinches at your nipples, eating up every sound like it’s offered on a platter. “Those noises sound like you belong to me.” Every nerve burns where he touches, marring your flesh and branding his mark as arousal collects in your underthings.

“Azriel,” You pant, trying to clear the fog of your brain but he’s all consuming; refusing to allow you air if it’s not the same one he breathes.

The flimsy underwear is pushed aside, familiar fingers collecting the slick gathering between your legs and a cruel smile grows on his face. “It certainly feels like you belong to me.” A thumb pressed firmly on the stiff bud of your clit, rubbing slow circles that has your toes curling. A thump sounds from where your head falls back to the ball, exposing the line of your neck and the dark purple bruises smattered along it. Your eyes close for a second, breath labored and mouth salivating from the promise of more but all that changes when his hands bunch up the elegant curl of your hair. He wraps it around like a leash, forcing you to look him in the eye and the rasp of his voice is devastating. “So why the fuck can’t you get it through your pretty head, huh?”

It’s a rhetorical question, that much you gather when he moulds his mouth to yours before you can even begin to muster up an answer. You’re boneless in his grasp, allowing him to take you to his room and share his sheets. The bedside table screeches when Azriel’s boot kicks at it, knocking over lamps and light bulbs shatter on the hardwood. He doesn’t even flinch, glass crunching under the soles of his shoes that he kicks off as he eases you down. “Az,” Insecurity threatens to rear her ugly head and ruin the moment, trying to push forth his hurtful words and the years of dancing around this feeling but Azriel’s already there to push that away. “Are you sure you even want to?”

“You belong to me,” He says and it’s final. Offering up the keys to the locked box filled with everything you’d dreamed about when you closed your eyes and wished on falling stars every year. Off goes his shirt and shortly his pants follow, dragging his underwear along with it and you can’t fight the moan when all of that bare skin is exposed and hovering above you. “Say it,” He urges, the hard length of him slotting between spread legs, grinding against warm need until you’re keening soft pleas into his chest, heels digging into his back.

The intrusion makes you gasp, hands greedy and mouth glued to his while he fucked into you like he always did. It’s a demanding pace; forcing you to take all of him while he watched you lose all your composure—all that beautiful fight that drew him to you in the first place. Az doesn’t stop, spurred on by strangled moans and choked words garbled together begging for more of him; harder, faster, deeper. Your clenching around him when the words stutter out of you in a whisper. “I belong to you.”

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bradshawsbaby · 7 months

Text

Senses

Pairing: Bob Floyd x Wife!Reader

Summary: Being loved by Robert Floyd is a feast for the senses.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author's Note: This is my attempt to capture in words the vibes that I have not been able to get out of my head for days. The writing style is a little different than my usual work, but I thought it was fun trying something new!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Strong sexual content, allusions to oral sex (female and male), unprotected sex between a married couple, romance, fluff.

One thing you’ve come to learn in your years of knowing and being known by Robert Floyd—more intimately than you have been known by anyone else in all your life, you might add—is that to be loved by him is a feast for the senses.

Touch.

Calloused fingertips dancing across the bare expanse of your back, so slowly that they seem to make time stand still, if only for a moment. The roughened pads of his thick fingers twirling over each and every freckle, birthmark, scar. Goosebumps rise in the wake of his warm skin ghosting over yours, trailing down your spine and tracing the curves of your shoulder blades.

The knuckles gliding down your arm wordlessly seek to know, Are you awake?

Yes, you silently reply, your own fingers reaching back to tangle with his, the coolness of his wedding band a shock to your flushed skin. His hand, so much larger than your own, closes around yours for a moment and squeezes softly, tenderly, lovingly.

Then his fingers are gone, replaced by the featherlight touch of his lips against the curve of your neck, his button nose nudging your hair out of the way as he peppers your skin with barely-there kisses that leave your body aching for more. His lips are soft, breathtakingly so, in a way that makes you want to both laugh and weep as his mouth trails from the crook of your shoulder up to that delicate spot just beneath your ear and then down again across the nape of your neck. You’re reminded of the peppermint chapstick that he insists on applying all year long, and your heart suddenly feels near to bursting with love for the man whose arm is now snaking tightly around your middle, drawing you back more securely against his strong chest.

Your hand slides down and traces the curve of his, each of his veins like a sentinel standing at attention as he fists your midnight blue nightgown in his grasp, his kisses growing more insistent as he nips at your ear, his tongue soothing the sting left in the wake of his affectionate attack.

His fingers, his lips, his hands, his tongue—they all meld together, the sensation of his touch overwhelming in the very best way as he rolls you onto your back, his weight shifting as he presses himself down upon you, bare skin brushing against the silky softness of your nightgown, teasing the hardened nipples underneath.

Then his mouth is on you again, hot breath fanning across your chest as his head dips lower, lips and tongue working in tandem to caress your pebbled skin through the fabric of the nightgown you’d purchased just for him on his last birthday—the one he always handled with such care as he tore it off you.

You adore the feel of the hard muscles and planes of his back as your hands explore his body, your delicate fingertips tracing his freckles and birthmarks and scars. You can feel the strength of him in every tiny movement, the quiet power and agility that so many underestimate, the vigor that turns you to a puddle every time.

His touch is gentle as he continues to move downward, his massive paws gliding dark blue silk upward to lay you bare before him—for a brief moment, you remember the scrap of matching blue lace still lying in the drawer where you’d abandoned it last night, much to your husband’s evident delight.

And then his face is buried between your thighs, teeth tugging at the fragile skin he finds there as those calloused fingertips dig into the meaty flesh of your upper legs, spreading you wide for him to devour. He’s all soft lips and warm tongue and hot breath as he explores every inch of you, that button nose that you so often press kisses to nudging and teasing you in just the right places.

His touch in this moment has you seeing stars, your hips bucking upwards as you feel yourself cresting the waves of pleasure he’s unleashing within you. You bury your fingers in his honeyed locks to steady yourself, your heart beating double time inside your chest as you sense yourself drifting further and further away from the shore, lost in this whirlpool of his creation. But then his fingers are lacing through yours, holding you secure. Anchoring you to him. He’d never let you slip so far away that he could not find you.

His touches don’t cease as you ride the wave of your high, his hands firmly wrapped around your hips and his mouth still on you as your back arches off the bed with a soundless cry, salty tears streaming out your eyes and into your hair, pulse racing, skin hot to the touch.

He’s holding you again, his lips featherlight once more as they travel across your collarbone, his work-roughened hands grasping your legs until the trembling finally subsides.

His touches whisper, I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m here. I’ll never leave you.

Taste.

You can taste yourself on him when he kisses you, a sharp, tangy flavor that you’ve never quite gotten used to. But on his lips, anything can taste like heaven.

As you tangle your fingers in his mussed locks and kiss him back, you try to pick out all the other flavors on his tongue—the faint hint of spearmint from the toothpaste he’d used to brush his teeth before bed, the barely-there taste of his peppermint chapstick, the slight saltiness from the sweat he worked up between your legs. They all blend together to form a flavor that is so distinctly him. You wish you could bottle it up and keep it with you forever.

His kisses taste sweeter than honey and get you drunker than any cocktail at The Hard Deck ever could. You could happily spend all your days like this—forgoing food and water for the rest of time so long as you could feast upon these lips that you love so much.

The rest of him tastes just as sweet as you mimic his kisses from earlier, your lips trailing across his jaw, working the spot just beneath his ear, then traveling down towards the dip of his shoulder.

Pressing him down into his pillows, you explore every inch of his body with eager lips, never tiring of the taste of his skin, still warm from sleep and flushed from exertion. And when you take him into your mouth, his hips jumping slightly as his hands find purchase in your hair, you swear you grow lightheaded for a moment at the musky, salty taste of him.

An act that you had once dreaded before knowing him now becomes the highlight of your morning as you use your mouth to bring him pleasure, the way he has done for you more times than you could even think to number. And where once upon a time you would have pulled away, now you welcome the explosion of him on your tongue, a mixture of salty and sweet that you couldn’t explain even if you wanted to.

But you don’t want to. Because this? This is just for the two of you, and no one else. You’re the only one who gets to know what he tastes like.

It fills you with a sort of giddy sensation, the flavor of both of you joined together on your lips and tongue. You kiss him again so that he can experience it, too, this blending together of the pleasure you find in one another.

His tongue is gentle in your mouth, moving with yours in a dance that your body knows all too well.

The taste of him tells you, I am yours, and you are mine. Always.

Sight.

He’s beautiful. He’s always been so beautiful.

As he grabs you around the waist and pins you down to the bed once more, hovering above you, you have a chance to admire the way the morning light comes streaming through the gossamer curtains, bathing him in a warm, golden glow.

Cerulean eyes gaze down at you, rivaling even the bluest of seas, and the love glowing in them is enough to send your world tilting on its axis and then turn it right side up again.

It’s taken you so long to truly embrace the way he looks at you, as if you yourself had climbed up into the sky and hung the moon and stars.

He’s been looking at you that way since the very start, but your instinct has always been to hide, to duck your head or avert your gaze—anything to escape the intensity of such undeserved adoration. But ever so slowly, as he’s worked to put the broken pieces of your heart back together bit by bit, you’ve found that you’re no longer so afraid to look into those stunning baby blues and accept the love that you find there.

And now, as you lay caged between his strong arms, you gaze unabashedly back at him, the unadulterated devotion brimming in his eyes mirrored in your own.

Looking up at him, it dawns on you—not for the first time—that everything about him, from the top of his head all the way down to his toes, is beloved to you. That golden brown curl that falls across his forehead when his hair, usually so immaculately kempt, is tousled from sleep and the sweep of your fingers. The crinkle around his eyes and the roundness of his cheeks as he smiles at you, those soft lips of his curving upward into a grin that could only be described as angelic despite the devilish things he does to you. The way his skin turns a faint shade of pink, as if even after all this time, he’s bashful about the way your body fits against his just so. That button nose that you can’t help but boop whenever you get the chance.

You reach up to trace his face with a gentle hand, slowly brushing one finger down the slope of his nose and outlining the bow of his lips.

If there ever came a day when you were robbed of the ability to stare at his precious face, you wanted to have every inch of it committed to memory.

He feels the same. You can tell from the way he caresses you, fingertips dancing across your skin as he touches your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your chin. His glasses are still resting on the bedside table where he left them last night, but you know he can still see every bit of you, his gaze as intensely focused as the lasers he locks on mission targets.

His gaze screams into the early morning stillness, You’re my entire world. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Smell.

His scent fills your lungs, fills every available crevice within you until all you can breathe is him. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even after two showers, the smell of jet fuel still clings to his skin, a fixture as permanent as the freckles sprinkled across the back of his neck. It’s a part of who he is, embedded in the blood that flows through his veins. You think of all the times he’s apologized for it, but you like it—even when he’s gone, it lingers on his pillow, a reminder that a part of him will always be with you and that he’ll be back in your arms soon enough.

Jet fuel blends with the woody scent of his body wash, an aroma that you inhale deeply as you bury your face in his neck, your bodies writhing together in a slow, lazy dance as his need for you grows more apparent with each second that passes.

You can actually smell it, the thick scent of desire that hangs over the room like a cloud. Even with the window partially ajar, the early morning breeze lilting through the curtains, it’s a powerful aphrodisiac, making your own need all the more acute.

As his hand trails downward and dips between your legs, you gasp quietly into his mouth, hooking your leg around his as his expert fingers bring you to the brink once again. And yet much too soon, he’s pulling his hand away and smiling at the little noise of protest that you make. He reaches up to grasp your face in his hand and press a kiss to your nose, and you can smell yourself on him. It gives you a little thrill, this thought that you’ve marked him for yourself. He is yours and no one else’s. No one else will ever know this part of him, the part of him that he saves just for you.

And no one else will know you the way that he does. He’s marked you, too, the scent of him heavy on your skin. You hope that it never fades away.

When he stretches his body over yours, fitting himself inside you the way that only he can, your breath and your bodies mingle together as one, and the fragrance of your lovemaking permeates the air.

It says, The rest of the world is gone. It could all fall away right now, forever, and it wouldn’t matter because I have you in my arms.

Sound.

His breathing is heavy in your ear, his panting punctuated by soft grunts and groans of pleasure as his hips roll in tandem with yours, filling you up as he whispers against your skin how beautiful you are, how precious you are to him, how much he loves you.

It’s like a symphony, every noise he makes, every word he whispers music to your ears as your own sighs and whimpers harmonize with his.

No one else could ever make your body sing the way he does.

No one else could ever draw those sounds from him the way you do.

He’s holding you tightly, so tightly, as he loses himself in the sensation of your body, your body that’s gripping him so intensely that he has no choice but to cry out in ecstasy, his moans echoing off the walls of your bedroom and rivaling the yearning coos of the mourning doves outside your window.

You’re crying out, too, his name falling from your lips over and over again in a breathless rush as you cling to him, your arms wrapped securely around his broad shoulders. You know that you’re not going to be able to last much longer.

From the labored sound of his breathing, he isn’t either.

You whisper in his ear that you’re close, that you’re about to fall apart for him.

He captures your lips with his own and whispers back that he’s close, too, that if you can just hold out a few seconds longer, he’ll be right there with you to accompany you into oblivion.

And so you do. You hold out just long enough until he’s practically sobbing your name, and then you tumble over the edge as well, the sound of his name reverberating off the walls until the two of you are lying still in the afterglow, panting and gasping for air.

You can hear his heart beating inside his chest as he collapses on top of you, still inside you as he nuzzles against your cheek, pressing lazy kisses to your jaw.

Running your fingertips up and down his back, you relish the magnificence of this still, slow morning and the beauty of the man you get to share it with.

All of it—touch, taste, sight, smell, sound—is such a glorious reminder of what it is to be seen and known and loved in a way you never would have thought possible before him.

“I love you, Bobby,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead.

Bob smiles at you, his hands coming to rest on either side of your face as he kisses you tenderly, admiring the way the light skates across your skin. “I love you, too, sunshine.”

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #x reader #x female reader #top gun #top gun: maverick #lewis pullman

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the-cat-and-the-birdie · 7 months

Text

You don't need to worry about the ATSV fandom dying. As someone whose been in the Marvel fandom over ten years - I can assure you this is natural.

The ATSV Fandom Isn't Dead: A brief look into the science of fandoms.

[me standing beside Hobie beaming my thoughts of love and adoration into his head like I'm professor x]

A lot of people are afraid of the ATSV dying - and I don't blame them.

In the era of shows releasing all in one day, or movies coming to streaming almost immediately - it's not hard to say we're in an era were content is consumed at ridiculously rapid rates.

I mean, this time last year Wednesday was breaking records on Netflix. Where's the hype now?

I know you see it too, there's less posts everyday in the Hobie tag, less screenshot breakdowns, etc etc etc.

But I'm here to tell you - The ATSV fandom is doing just fine. Better than fine. All of this is meant to happen.

Let me put it into perspective.

ATSV released on June 2nd - it's November.

ATSV released a little over six months ago.

For reference: The Avengers (2012) was released on May 4th.

The Avengers DVD wasn't available for purchase until SEPTEMBER 25th - almost SIX months later.

The time that the Hobie fandom has formed and existed - is the same amount of time people had to wait just to see The Avengers again.

Large periods of time where tags only get three posts a day TOPS was nothing to fear. xReaders and fanfics held the fandom over until the next trailer, the next sneak peek or leak.

Prior to the release of streaming, only a little more than ten years ago - it was NATURAL for a fandom to wait six months before even seeing the movie for a second time.

And mind you - streaming didn't exist. If you wanted to see The Avengers again, you had to go out and BUY it. $26.99.

If you wanted to order it online - you'd have to get it shipped to you. Before Disney plus, we watched on BlueRay Discs.

And the fandom was fine and healthy.

If a fandom that doesn't even have a DVD release can keep up content for six months, I think we'll be fine.

But I'll admit - there's still the question:

If the ATSV fandom is 'doing fine' then where is everyone going? Why are the tags getting slower?

The answer is simple:

FANDOM BIOLOGY

I LOVE social sciences and the systems people create and how they work - even unintentionally.

And I have a theory - one about the natural evolution and regeneration of fandom. Hear me out -

When it comes to ATSV:

We are leaving the Analysation Phase, the phase in which content creation is centered around deciphering and breaking down the most recent installment in the fandom.

During this phase usually see art of newer characters, new ships, meta breakdowns, easter egg point-outs.

We were in that phase.

Once the Analysation Phase dies down, usually main content creators may remain. The intermediate or liminal period.

The intermediate is usually when you'll see more x-reader art pop-up, the levels of fanart evening out as artists return to their favorite characters - usually incorporating any new ones they gained from the last installment.

Shitposts usually also become popular around this time, as the shock and weight of the story wear off, and we're more able to joke about the storyline a lot more light-heartedly.

That's why the intermediate point is often see as the passion 'dying out'.

When in fact, it is the fandom getting comfortable. Resting for the next phase.

And after a few months, the next phase comes:

The Speculation Phase:

The Speculation Phase cannot come until the Analysation Phase is over.

During the Analysation Phase the fandom begins to breakdown and digest the writers intentions. They integrate the new character into the story, and the fandom.

As the audience and fandom talk amongst each other, we get more solid ideas of who the characters are, what their motivations might be, and most important of all-

What they might do.

In the Speculation Phase we turn from the last installment - and start looking towards the future.

Let's take Hobie for example.

Looking at the timeline of the Hobie fandom, we can see a progression.

Originally taken as a punk-rockstar and little more, throughout the months the fandom began posting things about punk culture, the 70's, Hobie's motivation in the comics, and how that all correlates to him.

As the fandom analyzed, the collective zeitgeist and understanding of Hobie grew into something a lot more sound, and telling.

We looked at the parellels he provides in the story, and what kind of person he is.

And because if that we have seen a marked improvement in people's contextual understanding of Hobie - as a punk and a hero.

And now that we can understand him - we can predict him.

The same goes for Miguel - over the months, a lot of us have began to question if we know him as well as we think we do , if we really know the kinda person he is -

And if we really know what he's doing to do.

That's where the Speculation Phase comes in.

The Speculation Phase in fandom is when we see some of the most passion - and instead of tapering off overtime, it builds. More and more until the next release.

The Speculation Phase is when the fandom takes the analysis' and from there, they begin to theorize.

Now that we understand, we can begin to predict.

And this is arguably one of the most interesting parts in a fandoms natural ecosystem.

During the Speculation Phase, we can see a number of diverse opinions appear.

As more and more creators begin to gather their understanding, tips from the writers, new released news, and past comic book arcs, we start to see dozens of triguing paths the writers can take us on.

As more news releases, the more hype people get. I mean - imagine how you'll feel when they release the first new poster of Hobie, or Miles? Or when we get to see Miles.G in the trailer?

And with each new poster, or trailer, we're given clues. The theorizes develop more. And the plot thickens.

It's all natural.

So I can understand the fear. Only getting one or two new posts when you visit the Hobie tag can be a bummer. But it's natural and it's GOOD.

Y'all, we need to conserve our energy. We are in the liminal phase. And they never last long.

With the news of the voice actors back in the studio, and a cliff-hanger like we have - I can assure you, it's only a matter of time before we begin to see the theories, the trailer breakdowns, the people guessing what Miguel might do, or exactly how much tech Hobie is hiding.

And when that time comes we need to be READY. I can already feel it on the horizon.

I really wonder what they'll do with all that left over Hobie concept art.

Plus with explosion of Hobie approval, I wonder if they'll add him in even more. Hobie fan-service anyone?

Hmmm...

But chill y'all, we're on the right track -

-------------------------------------

If you read this far, as always THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And as a token of my appreciation, I hand you this Hobie. Hold him gently please

Bye 💗

#no proofread ever ever EVER #spiderman #atsv #spider man #marvel #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spiderpunk #Miles morales #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #peter parker

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mellowwillowy · 1 year

Text

Yan Gamer with (both F/M) Game-character Reader

{A wide variation of shameless, calm but not stoic and the shy one~}

Also there's a special snip where it shows your POV~~

So you see, this person right here is a WHALE when it comes to you. (Yan? Tendencies below)

Summer costume dlc where you wear bikini or shorts, revealing all your skins for player to see? Take their card. They'll enter their pin the moment the dlc is released.

Dlc for extra route that involves you? Come at them. They don't mind whose route it for as long as it involves you, even if you just show up for a few moments. If the OG game doesn't really give you that much of a screen time, they'll spam the creator to y'know, at least make an exclusive dlc or pack that stars you.

Depending on the game, I'll be taking Dead or Alive as an example. So it is a 3D fighting game that is infamous for its chicks and dlcs yeah, and what if you are there. For fem, they'll just flash their camera to your chest or butt (doesn't matter if you are flat in and out coughs) everytime they win the game before continuing, observing you closely like look at you, so adorable in that outfit. For male, they'll prolly just shoot at your whole muscles (whether you have it or not but he'll just stare at it anyway) or your ass.

If they are a ryona fans then good luck dear reader because you'll be forced to be other character's punch bag.

Or maybe they just enjoy punishing people so you'll just whoop people's ass mercilessly.

How about fanservice beach game? (Coughs DOAXtreme3). I bet they will just go nuts when they know you are also in the game and will start grinding like crazy to earn anything that is involving you. A puzzles to obtain a set of swimwear (bikini or shorts, your call)? They'll have it obtained real fast. A limited edition dlc that can only be obtained with real money? Kaching, purchased just like that. Oh? A limited edition reward where only few people can get it? They'll compete with the others like crazy to obtain it and they WILL. See, you look so good wearing that while playing volleyball with the others~

A *coughs* sensual scene where you are playing with the volleyball alone? Their camera is all set and (please look away minors) their hand just knows what to do. Another scene where you are doing a pole dance? God they sure knows what to do with the camera angle, it helps him with his relief so much. Oh, that noise you made is also really cute~

Lying on the bed all by yourself while waiting for them to log in? Cmon, you make them feel bad having to leave their PC for their work. Don't worry though, they'll make it up to you soon~

If uncomfortable with Yan, look away

But it's really sad how they know none of this will ever exist in real life. You are just a character from a game and it will always be like that. Even if they can invest a whooping millions just to create a VR game or that hologram capsule where they get to communicate and interact with you, they will never be able to feel the warmth of your skin. Oh how they will do anything to be in the same space with you...

Oh what's this? A message...?

It's really different from what you are programmed to say. Depending on what kind of personality you have, if feisty or sadistic (hello Cat) you'll leave some kind of mean words to them that they never know you are capable of, or if you are sweet (hello Fox) you'll leave some kind of sweet message that encourage them to work diligently~ No matter how hard they try to search it up, no one has ever encountered this before! Is this some kind of bug or unused files?

It happens again the next day

They log in and see you standing instead of lying on the bed like usual, with a message that asks them to hurry and finish their work so that they can play with you and shower you with his love. Another bug?

It's getting out of hand now

Their PC suddenly turns on by itself, blasting the mp3 like crazy to wake them up. They wake up and see the notepad next to the mp3 player, something written on it.

"You won't forget playing with me for today too right? I really miss you. It feels lonely without you. You need to play with me unless you want me to delete your whole files ♡"

Not like they are complaining or anything. Delete it all you want, if anything, they are glad you'll punish them for their mistake in abandoning you. A bad lover has to receive their partner's chiding and punishment every now and then right? There's no way out anymore and they don't mind it at all. At least the obsession is mutual. Oh how happy you are whenever they spend fortune just for you ♡ It feels nice to be loved and adored to this extent, you've always yearned for someone's love after all.

You'll leave them lots of messages every day and they will also leave lots of files in their directory for you to peek. They'll also comission few artworks of you and them, setting it as a wallpaper where you can see everyday. It feels like a wedding portrait now, right?

They'll hate it whenever other people talk about you, especially if you come from a fanservice kind of game. They just realllllly want to destroy their PC every time they talk about you ( How? Each varies, prolly in a shady way)

There'll also be some kind of anniversary date between you two where you'll just do something special that only they are allowed to know. If coughs fanservice game then perhaps the pole dance might become a show of.... you know. If it's just a wholesome dating game the you might prepare a whole new date scenario of you and them. Incoming immoral activities! Handholding and hugging!

They've fallen into the rabbit hole way too deep and there's no way out now. Perhaps, this has always been their wish? It's only a matter of time for them to find another way to connect with you directly ♡

No proofread, I wrote this blurb before bedtime

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latenightdaydreams · 15 days

Note

Oh, Author. To be in your presence (asks) one again is such a delight. With you and your divine power (writing)... Will you care to bless this lady by fulfilling her simple request? 🙏

Upon your Sub!König revelation (headcanon), a thought - a need - has been lingering in my mind for far too long. According to the scripture, it has mentioned König loves to be financially dominated. If this is true, grant us with the vision of Reader purchasing the best and the most expensive items - cough, toys and lingerie, cough - in the market as some sort of surprise for König. But it comes off as shocking news to him when he finds out whose is it for... It isn't meant for Reader at all. It's all meant for him. I am quite sure we know what ensues next: Our supposedly intimidating giant in lingerie, being teased and pleasured by toys 🤭

Sigh, what a sight to behold. A sight I shall engrave in my mind. Oh, and to add a little bit of a personal spice preference: Konig addresses Dom!Reader as "Meisterin (Mistress)".

Why such an absurd request? Unfortunately, I have quite the fascination for pathetic submissive men. And what better candidate to push into such abyss but our man König 😮‍💨🤌

Anyway, breaking out of my weird, poor attempt at formal speech. I hope you have a great day/night ahead and have been recovering from the pain you mentioned before 🫂 Take plenty of rest, stay hydrated and eat well, alright? Here's plenty of love that hopefully breaks your device screen and ends up san mothering you: ❤️💕💞💓💗🩷💖💝

You're so sweet🩷 Thank you for wishing me well! I also love how you wrote this hahaha

Submissive König is such a baby girl. I always think of this artist work! @ marndraws on twitter😮‍💨 They draw amazing sub/soft König.

A Little Treat (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Sub Head Canon

>cw: fem/afab, bondage, toys, oral, sub/dom

1.4k word count

🪀

While sitting at his desk in the office, his phone goes off. The ringtone he has set only for you. He pushes himself back from the desk to check the message.

“Send $1,000🩷,”

König can’t help but to smile and he sends you 2k and text back, “I sent extra just in case. Love you.”

Standing in the middle of a high-end sex shop, you look down at your phone and smile. König is always so sweet. You walk forward to a classic maid outfit on the rack inspecting it. A kind woman wearing a black suit comes over with a kind smile.

“May I help you in any way?”

“Yes, actually. Do you carry this in XXXL?”

Once you get home, König hears the car pull up. He quickly abandons his work to rush downstairs and assist you. His eyes land on you ask you wait for him inside the car. In a hurry, he opens the driver’s door for you, holding his hand out to help you out.

“The bags are in the back seat.” You say as he kisses your hand.

“I’ll grab them.” König lets go of your hand and grabs four bags out of the back. His eyes widen as he sees where the bags are from. Excitement rushes through his body. “Liebling, what do you have planned for tonight?”

A small smirk crosses your lips. “You’ll see.”

You walk ahead of König as you both enter the house. Going straight upstairs to the bedroom, you sit on the bed as he places the bags on top of your shared dresser. His eyes gloss over you as he walks to you.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You turn your head up for him as he leans down and kisses your lips tenderly.

“Danke…” His voice was low as he pulls away from the kiss; looking at you with such adoring eyes.

“Are you ready to see what I got?”

“Ja, absolutely.”

“Sit.” You stand and walk over to the bags and bring them to him.

König sits wide eyed as you pull out a riding crop. He can feel his dick tingle slightly, thinking of your ass jiggling once he hits it. Then a pair of handcuffs; his eyebrows raise in surprise. He continues to watch as you pull out many types of toys and his cock gets hard. Then you hold up a maid’s outfit…clearly not in your size. He tilts his head.

“You’ve been such a good boy lately; I want to treat you.”

“Das ist für mich?”

“All for you.” You say, holding the outfit out to him. “Try it on.”

He stands slowly and grabs the outfit. You sit on the bed opening the packaging to some toys as he gets dressed. König stands there looking at himself in the mirror. His muscles bulging in the tight outfit.

Stepping out of the bedroom, König sees you fully undressed. His jaw drops as he looks up and down your body.

“You look so hot König.”

He blushes and looks down at his own body before bashfully looking back up at you. “Ja?”

“Yes… come here.”

He walks to stand in front of you, his pale blue eyes gazing down at you. You reach up to caress his body, feeling his muscles underneath the fabric of the outfit. A hand dropping down to go under the skirt of the outfit, grabbing his hard cock.

“My handsome boy…” The words leave in a whisper as you walk around him, grabbing the cuff and placing them on his wrist.

You turn and walk to the bed, beckon him to follow you. The giant war criminal listens to you, no questions asked. “Bend over.”

He bends over the bed. His muscular ass showing from underneath the skirt of the maid’s outfit. You rub your hand over his ass before spanking lightly. Reaching for the riding crop, you step back and lightly tap his ass. No reaction. You reach back further and hit him with it again. He jumps slightly before letting out a nervous chuckle.

“Are you okay?”

“Ja.”

“Yes what?” You hit him again. A small red mark appearing on his pale skin.

“Ja Meisterin.”

“That’s my good boy.” You spank him a few more times. Reaching down, you grasp his balls and tug on them slightly before spanking him again. His body jumping slightly, making you giggle as you spank him once more.

“Who owns you?”

“You do, Meisterin.” The tone of his voice so tender.

“Good boy. Now lay on your back for me.” He maneuvers himself further onto the bed, rolling on to his back as he waited for your next move.

You go through one of the bags and find tape, nipple clamps, and a small pink vibrator. In one hand you hold the items and walk to the bed. With one finger you begin to flick his nipples, getting them hard. Once his pink nipples were erect, you place the clamps on them.

König winced slightly, but then bit his lower lip. “My little pain slut.” You giggle as you tug on the chain connected to the clamps. Standing off the bed, you walk around it, lightly hitting his abdomen with the riding prop.

König’s eyes are following your every move, watching as you walk in front of him and lift the skirt again, exposing his erection. Your hand wraps around it and begins to stroke his cock every so slightly. Spitting on it to lubricate it. König lets out shuttered breaths as you so this, the tip of his cock leaking even more precum.

Letting go, you get the small vibrator out, turning it on the first setting, then rubbing it on the underside of his cock’s head. His eyes go wide as he feels the vibration. He’s never tried touching himself with a toy before.

“You have to tell me which setting you like best.” You say as you switch through all five settings. On the third quick burst of vibrations, you see König begin to twitch.

“Tha- that one.” He manages to get out. “Bitte meine Meisterin.”

“Perfect.” The tape was easy to pull as you begin to wrap it around his boner, securing the vibrator to him. His legs twitch as he closes his eyes. A firm hand reaching down, grasping his jaw. “Open your eyes.”

He listens, his eyes instantly falling to your breasts. His mind fuzzy with the overwhelming sensation he is feeling right now. Without breaking your eye contact, you climb up on to the bed and staddle his abdomen. You begin to grind your wet cunt along his solid belly, covering him in your arousal. A moan escaping your lips as König watches you do this with an intense gaze.

“Are you ready to eat my pussy?”

“Please Meisterin, please let me taste your pussy.”

“You’re being such a good boy.” Your legs move up until your lingering over his face, but facing to you can see his body. “Rub your nose in it.”

König uses his strong core to lean up and bury his aquiline nose deep into your pussy; taking in a deep breath as he does. Your smell is like candy to him, he can’t get enough. Slowly his tongue comes out and begins to lick between your pink folds. Thick globs of your creamy arousal being scooped up by his tongue.

In response you begin to rock your hips, matching his rhythm. Fingers going through his hair and pulling tightly. “Just like that.”

You lean forward and begin to stroke the shaft of him cock, his hips beginning to buck up into your hand rapidly. “Someone wants to cum…” You tease, feeling his head nod underneath you as he moans into your cunt.

“Will you cum for me?”

His hips begin to thrust quicker into your hand as his moans become louder. His tongue movements less precise and more erratic, like he is only focused on getting a taste and not actual pleasure for you.

“Good boy, cum for master.”

You lead forward so your ass if hoovering over his face instead of sitting on it. His balls tighten as his cock throbs. He tries his hardest to put his face back into your pussy while he cums, but you don’t give him that satisfaction. Toes curling as you leave him with only the view of your tight ass hole and creamy cunt.

His cock shoots out cum, the thick creamy cum falling on to your hand and his abdomen.

“Oh fuck!” König moans loudly. The vibration on the tip of his now extremely sensitive head was driving him wild. “Please, it’s too much now.”

A mischievous smirk crosses your face as you sit back down on his face. “Cum again for me."

#konig #konig x reader #könig #konig cod #konig x y/n #könig x reader #konig smut #könig smut #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x you #x reader #konig x reader smut #cod smut #smut #könig call of duty #cod konig

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rookthorne · 5 months

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞

Miracles and surprises were never in short supply around Christmas, you had learned that during the last Christmas you spent with Bucky and the club; your own family. But, what if something came along, uprooting your certainty, and presenting all of the questions you were beyond nervous to find the answers for?

You knew one thing was for certain, though. Your heart, while full of love and adoration for the man you called your own, maybe, just maybe, had room for another special someone.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 2.3k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Fluff, implied surprise of a... small bundle

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✰ Is this really happening? Am I really doing this? I think I am, and I hope you guys like it 🥹

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✰ Heart by Sleeping At Last

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The town’s Christmas Fair was a well anticipated event, and for weeks, you offered your help, free time, and your ideas to the local school to pull it off. It had been history from then on — tireless hours spent with paper snowflakes, countless decorations, and roping the guys in on the fun, too.

Before the fun truly began, and after a very exciting meeting with the kids and their families, you were elected the leader of their small committee; the President of your own little festive family.

What made the fair all the better, though, and warmed your heart the most, was that all proceeds from all purchases would be donated to the local hospital; to put a little cheer into the lives of the kids that were unable to be home for Christmas. Much like the previous year with the bike run.

And, naturally, when it came to making the decorations, out of all of the members of the club, Peter was the one that was all for it. Even Sam had grudgingly joined in on the fun once he learned that there was a prize for the best-looking snowflakes.

A whole other beast, though, was convincing Bucky and Steve, a steadfast duo in their stubbornness, and they did not budge, not even an inch, on the fact they were not taking part. “You can go have fun with it, baby,” Bucky whispered into your temple once, after you tried to convince him yet again. You sat across his lap, tracing the tattoos over the arms that held you close. “I’ve got too much shit to do.”

Steve was much the same, using the same excuse as the President. “Sorry, Sweets, I have to get all this fuckin’ paperwork done and you know what Buck is like if I fuck it up.”

You did, and you pouted at the pair of them whenever you sorted through the snowflakes and they were within your field of vision.

Days passed, and still, your bribes and pleas went ignored or brushed away with another excuse.

Until finally, the fair’s set up date rolled around — the big red circle on the calendar on your fridge made it very, very obvious.

It started off without a hitch; every stall was erected and placed in increments with the help of the families, and, surprisingly, the club; both sides worked in tandem to make sure the kids would have somewhere to showcase their creations.

You watched with a critical, artistic eye as Steve and Bucky worked on the marquees and the heavier weighted items, and you directed them with softened commands — it was true, you knew they were busy as the President and his right hand, but they did take the time to help set up for your big day.

It made it all the better, having them there.

“Thank you, boys.” Steve’s arms wrapped around you tightly, and his beard tickled your cheek as he kissed you on the cheek, chuckling quietly.

“You’re welcome, darlin’,” he said. “I best be off, I’ll come check in later, alright?”

You nodded and stepped away to stand next to Bucky, whose arm immediately went around your waist to pull you into his side. Steve’s Harley roared to life, and you watched him ride from the car park and down the road, until he was out of sight.

“It’s lookin’ amazing, baby—tomorrow’s gonna be beautiful,” Bucky said, a hint of awe in his voice as he looked around the fair. “My own little President, huh? You gonna get the kids their own bikes?”

A genuine laugh shook your shoulders, and you shook your head. “I wish. Come on, we’re not done!”

You ignored Bucky’s grumbles, his endless complaints, and pulled him along behind you as you skipped towards the next thing on your to do list.

Not even once did it cross your mind to ask where Steve went, or what he was up to. And, if you had been a little more inclined to notice, you would have seen just how upbeat Bucky was ever since his Vice President left; how he kept trying to hide his smile while he watched you sort what went where, or how when you glanced up at his face from your task, you would see a glint of something in his bright eyes.

Or, at the very least, you would have noticed how Bucky did everything and anything to make sure you did not leave the park where the fair was to take place the very next day.

The sun had started to sink on the horizon, turning the sky orange and pink with the hues of gold between. You looked up from your task with a yawn, then glanced around to see most of the parents packing up for the day — eager little ones running around their feet and clamouring to get into the neatly packed decorations.

“Why don’t we head back, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, putting a box of rope underneath the covered bottom of the stall you were currently working on. You blinked and looked at him tiredly, but you smiled as he neared. “You look exhausted.”

The warmth of his hand tenderly cupping your face soothed your tired mind, and his fingers wandered from your cheek down to your shoulder, where he squeezed. “Yeah, I think I’ll take you home—can’t have you droppin’ dead from exhaustion, especially not before your big day.”

“Okay,” you muttered, conceding just this once that it would be best. The soft, comforting warmth of your bed could not be denied any longer. A few shouts of goodnight followed your departure from the fairgrounds, and you sat behind Bucky on his Indian, content to nap as he drove you both home; the lull of the engine a familiar lullaby.

The fleeting dreams of something small in your arms made your heart almost burst with fondness; how the little bundle would wriggle in delight as the sound of the bike rumbled — just as it did now — made the whole of your being inflate with helium, lifting you in the contentment of it.

A leather clad hand squeezed yours, and you blinked yourself awake. The garage of the clubhouse was lit up in the fading light of the day, and the Christmas lights that Peter had hung glinted and shone over the white snow. “We’re home, sweetheart,” Bucky said, unclipping his helmet. “C’mon. Let’s get you inside and into a blanket burrito.”

“Yes,” you breathed, envisioning the fluffy, plush blankets that awaited you.

Bucky helped you off the seat and unclipped your helmet, stowing it away in the pannier before he dismounted himself. The walk to the clubhouse was slow, hindered by your constant yawning, but when Bucky opened the door for you, you stopped dead in your tracks, blinking into the darkness of what would normally be the bar and games room. “What—?”

The lights flickered on, bathing the room in warm light — filtered by the absolutely ridiculous amounts of paper snowflakes strung down from the roof and on garlands. Tinsel was on every possible surface it could be stuck on, and you stared, slack-jawed, as Sam, Peter, and Steve jumped out from behind cover.

“Surprise!”

You shrieked and hiccupped on a gasp, floundering from the shock of seeing that they all had taken part, even in secret. Arms enveloped you from behind and you looked over your shoulder to Bucky — he was grinning, that charming pull of his lips that had you hooked from the beginning. “Surprise, baby.”

“You did it! You did it, and you didn’t tell me!”

“That’s the point of a surprise, Sweets,” Steve chimed in. A soft blanket appeared from behind his back, wrapped in gold ribbon. “Here, you need to get to bed and get some sleep for tomorrow.”

Bucky let go of you, and you bounded forward to grab the blanket, but only after you collided with Steve’s chest to crush the blond in a hug. “I can’t– Thank you, thank you so much.”

The next morning, after one of the best night's sleep, you awoke in a flurry. Excitement pumped adrenaline through your veins, and after shoving cup after cup of coffee under Bucky’s nose, you were on your way to the fairgrounds.

It was crowded as Bucky pulled into a park; the others would follow later, but as you were the President of the committee, you needed to show your support. The stalls were brimming with life, and the children had the widest, brightest smiles on their faces as they gushed and chattered about their wares — a majority of which were actually the crafts of their parents.

“I think it’s been a hit,” Bucky said, a big grin on his face. He looked at you then, pride swelling his chest. “I’m so fuckin’ proud of you.”

You felt the heat of his praise crawl up your neck, and you ducked your head as you grabbed his arm. “Let’s go see what they’re all doing.”

Bucky kissed you on the cheek, and led you through the crowds, arm in arm.

The stalls were bursting with Christmas wares — wreaths and lights, decorations and door stoppers, then there were rows and rows of knitted wares that were softer than the clouds that sent the flurries of snow down from the sky. “There is so much,” you said, wonderstruck. “Look at it all, Buck! They all did so well.”

“I think, sweetheart,” Bucky said, leaning closer to a stall where a small boy was enthusiastically exclaiming about his father’s automotive models, “That it was you that brought them all together.”

“I would agree,” a voice said, and you looked over to the source. It was one of the mothers that attended the meetings regularly; always with a smile on her face. “We couldn’t have done it without you, truly.”

Your eyes widened a fraction and you fidgeted with your fingers, overwhelmed with the compliment. “Thanks– Thank you–”

She smiled at you, then she looked at Bucky and began to talk to him about the models he was looking at so intently. “My husband worked for hours on these.” A wooden motorcycle was placed in his hands, and Bucky looked at it with glee akin to the child before him. “He took inspiration from your bikes, did you know?”

“No,” Bucky said. He looked into the woman’s face and blinked, as though his eyes were burning from the tears he choked back. “How much?”

The two talked about prices, and you took the opportunity to look around at the rest of her wares. There were clothes, all embossed with all manners of machinery and vehicles: classic muscle cars to modern ones, to planes and trucks — even farm equipment.

It was an explosion of colour as you took it all in, and the adult shirts and sweaters turned into children’s wear just as the small boy noticed the President of the motorcycle club of his town. A loud squeal left his widened mouth, and you glanced over to see Bucky knelt down on one knee, asking the boy all kinds of questions: “Did you help your dad make these?” to “Is this what you want to do when you’re older?”

Your heart soared, and your stomach flipped.

Bucky brought the bike model, and he tipped the little boy for excellent service, the smile never leaving his face as he handed the boy the money. There was a surprised exclamation from Bucky’s lips when the kid launched himself forward to hug him around the thighs.

It was while Bucky was occupied with his new attachment that you noticed a small array of tiny baby clothes.

Colours and designs were more subtle in comparison to the adult clothes, but one onesie caught your attention in particular. A black motorcycle, much like Bucky’s, was embossed on the front, just by itself, no excessive font or exaggeration of size; an almost perfect replica of the bike that was Bucky’s chariot.

“You’ve spotted it, honey,” the woman said, her voice fond. You looked at her and then at Bucky. “Oh, don’t you worry,” she gestured at her son. “He can talk the ears off of anyone.”

“I–” You tried, but your mouth had gone dry, and your stomach had twisted, a fluttering thing that you refused to acknowledge. “I’m not–”

“That’s okay,” she soothed, nodding. “It is a cute onesie; I can’t blame you for being hung up on it.”

“But if I were–”

“If you were,” she said, a knowing glint in her eyes, “I would say it’s the perfect thing.”

Unable to stop yourself, you looked back at Bucky and the small boy. He was animatedly gesturing at the rest of the models, that same childish glee on his face, as though he couldn’t believe an adult was so invested.

Bucky, however, looked between the display of models and the boy, his eyes soft and filled with such genuine care and enthusiasm that your heart skipped a beat.

It hammered against your ribs, roiling your stomach and making your limbs feel like jelly. Could—?

“Why don’t you have it, love,” the vendor said, gently putting the folded onesie into your hand. “From one woman to another, I think you have found the one that would love another just as much as he loves you. And, by the looks of it–” She paused, smiling at her son and the President of the motorcycle club with something resembling maternal love. “That would be a hell of a lot.”

The onesie found itself tucked into your pocket, the weight of it so heavy and cumbersome, but lighter than air — a contrast you could not comprehend. And as you walked through the rest of the fair, taking in the sights and smells of Christmas, you couldn’t help but feel the want, the longing for a Christmas Miracle of your own.

🥹🥹🥹

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes oneshot #MB #rookthorne's works

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elleloquently · 1 year

Note

lmk if this is dumb or if you arent taking requests rn but i just dyed my hair (myself) for the millionth time and i was thinking... college!ellie... helping reader dye their hair.... you get what im saying?/!?:))-&2):$2)/

LOVE INVISIBLE STRING BTW

-🪩

| a/n : what color did you do?!? sorry this took a bit to get done, i did a headcanon type format bc i felt that would work best so i hope that's okay!! <3 thank you for requesting!!

college!ellie helps dye your hair :

maybe deciding to dye your hair in the middle of the night wasn't the best idea, but after debating the idea for weeks, you finally felt inspired enough to do so and decided to jump on your sudden burst of motivation, finally taking the plunge.

it was the same back and forth for weeks. you were going to leave your hair alone, until you happened upon a gorgeous color you absolutely had to have. soon enough you had purchased the dye and the color was in your hands, but you had changed your mind. you did this often, examining the package in your hands, admiring the color and swearing you would finally dye it in the morning, but the only event that came with a new day was a change of heart.

finally, feeling fed up with homework but not tired enough to call it a night, you turned the package containing the dye over in your hands. you contemplated it, thoughtfully, before mumbling out loud.

"i think i'm gonna do it now, ells."

ellie, who was laying on her stomach with her feet in the air, wordlessly peeked at you from over the top of her astronomy textbook.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

-you wouldn't agree on whose idea it actually was. ellie would side that you begged, pleaded, even bribed her to help out with your hair project. you would disagree, claiming that ellie pushed to help with promises of 'it'll be fun!'

-regardless, you ended up in the bathroom, suddenly feeling uncertain as yourself and ellie stared at each other in the mirror. you had a towel wrapped around your shoulders, a lazy attempt at covering the old tee shirt you were wearing. you dug it out of your closet purposefully for this, not caring if any hair dye stained the worn cotton fabric.

-you were feeling excited, eager even, especially since ellie was going to help. that feeling was quickly replaced with doubt at the way ellie mischievously laughed while snapping plastic gloves onto her hands, flexing her fingers under the clinging material. you giggled nervously nonetheless, forcing ellie to read through the instructions once and then a second time to make sure she had really read them.

-the event would prompt a lot of laughter, and definitely a lot of light-hearted bickering. you would insist that ellie pays attention to what she's doing, it's your head for god sake, and she would argue that you need to stay still and let her focus.

-"ellieeeuugghhh"

-despite the banter or the moments of brief silence, it was practically an excuse to simply enjoy ellie's touch. she was gentle, even when she was being ridiculous on purpose, and the way she would examine each strand of hair, squinting and furrowing her eyebrows to make sure the color was evenly distributed, was adorable.

-it was simply because it was you, and ellie wanted to be careful with you and also wanted you to be proud that she had helped and even did a good job.

-you would let your eyes close momentarily, sighing in contentment when ellie spoke, quietly announcing her approval by saying, "this is going to look so good."

-it was nearly so peaceful, so perfect, until you had to remind ellie to make sure she was putting enough dye on the top and not just on the ends, and until she started grumbling about how the gloves were making her feel clumsy.

-"just be careful please ellie, i have class tomorrow," you laughed, imagining how terrible it would be to walk around with stains on your skin, matching the new color of your hair.

-only you didn't have to imagine.

-a few reminders here and there, (some gentle, some not) and ellie's responses of 'i know, don't worry,' came to a halt in an instant.

-it was a small moment, a teeny tiny slip up. you had gotten caught up with talking, and poor ellie really tried to work around your wiggles while you had been talking, and she even attempted to scold you about moving around so much, which you should've taken seriously.

-ellie needed a better view of the top of your hair, and you kept looking up at her while you were speaking. to hold you still, out of habit, ellie placed a gentle hand across your face, fingers spread over your chin and cheeks.

-upon the touch you immediately both froze. your mouth snapped shut and ellie's dropped open, registering what she had done. she slowly pulled the sticky glove away from your face, afraid to reveal what was underneath and you squeezed your eyes shut.

-"please tell me it's not bad please tell me it's not bad plea... ellie? why aren't you saying anything? is it bad? oh my god ellie is it-"

-okay, it wasn't that bad, but you definitely had some stains on your face.

-ellie thought you might react poorly but you howled with laughter, even surprised by your own reaction.

-ellie got a little bit grumpy though and ripped the gloves off of her hands and dumped them into the trash, insisting she could work more accurately without them. honestly she just felt bad but kept cracking a smile about it anyway.

-"ellie," you frowned, "i don't think that's good for your skin," you said in protest.

-ellie raised an eyebrow at you, practically referencing her mistake that was stained onto your face. "i'll be fine," she muttered. "it could be worse."

-hair color anew and mess cleaned, you admired your new hair in the mirror while ellie grinned proudly over your shoulder. you thanked her endlessly for helping, and she insisted it wasn't a big deal but honestly felt proud that you even trusted her in the first place to have her help out.

-you had the evidence to show for your evening together, the splotched stains around your face matched the dye stains covering ellie's fingers, which you both could not stop laughing about the next day.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie tlou x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams college au #ellie tlou x female reader

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bcbdrums · 4 months

Text

Full Disclosure

A Drakgo fanfic. Read on: AO3 | FFn

A/N: This next one-shot has a few sources of inspiration. First, the prompt from this list: 2. "If I kiss you, will you shut up?" Prompt was recommended by the legendary "Guest" on AO3 (you know who you are!) who specifically wanted French kissy-face, and the story was inspired in part by @lordwiggyton whose recent Mama Lipsky art has had my mind stirring. I'm also submitting this work to the "Hey, Sweetheart" Valentine's event run by @ficwip. It's not the conventional route perhaps, but within the rules? Pretty sure. And last but not least, it's an answer to @kim-possible-prompts's Valentine's Day prompt! (Have y'all noticed I adore answering prompts? lol.) ALSO this is the first of some birthday gifts I have for the incomparable @gothicthundra. Happy birthday, chaos queen. :) Enjoy!

Full Disclosure

Shego sighed from her perch at the end of the bed, leaning back and re-crossing her legs as she watched Drakken pace and listened to the same worried ramblings for the third time.

"But what if she never forgives me!" he cried as he wrung his hands.

"Dr. D.... We've been through this," Shego said, glancing down to study her nails. "She's jumped across moving train cars for you. Somehow I don't think finding out you've spent the past twenty years attempting world domination is going to come as much of a shock."

"But Shego..." Drakken said, pausing in front of her.

Shego looked up and took stock of her lover's appearance. He had, at her insistence, gone for black slacks instead of his usual Dockers, a tailored cherry-red dress shirt, and a black silk tie that perfectly accented the rest of his attire. And of course, the gold medal he'd received for saving the world hung heavy over his chest.

Shego wished she were the one going out with Drakken that evening, especially considering the calendar date. But this night had been planned for quite some time.

"She's had faith in me my entire life... How can I tell her it was all for nothing?"

"Drakken—"

"I admit it's past time to tell her the truth, but I just can't bear to disappoint her!"

"Drakken—"

"And then I'll never hear the end of it!" Drakken continued, throwing his hands up and resuming his ambling around the bedroom. "Passive-aggressive cards and letters is all I'll get for Christmas now! And lumps of coal instead of home-knitted sweaters!"

Shego stood up from the bed and briskly approached him.

"Drakken—"

"All the years of silence I left between us so she wouldn't figure it out. All those lost years I could have been close to my lonely old mother. That's what her letters will say, now. Have you ever heard that woman start on a guilt trip? She's an absolute master!"

"Drew!"

This finally caused the mad scientist's jaw to snap closed. He stopped mid-stride and whirled around to face her.

"If I kiss you, will you shut up?"

"Hnn?"

Shego didn't wait for an invitation. She snaked her arms around Drakken's neck and pressed in close before he could protest, and was gratified to feel tension leave his shoulders first and his lips a moment after.

She was far gentler with the kiss than with her words, her lips sliding with soft friction against his until they parted and gave her tongue purchase. She felt his soft exhale through his nostrils against her cheek as his fingers found her waist, and she could feel his hum of satisfaction where their chests were pressed together. His tongue was gentle as it slid alongside hers in caress, and he still tasted of cinnamon from his toothpaste.

Warmth blossomed in Shego's chest at his attentive response, and for the moment the dilemma of the present was forgotten. There was only the gentle pressure of noses fitted together, the give and take as their tongues took turns parting supple lips and exploring the heat and texture of one another. Drakken's body melded hot against hers as his hands slid lower, and her fingers rose to tangle his perfectly slicked-back hair.

It was fortuitous perhaps when Drakken pulled back slightly to stroke the outline of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. It was intoxicating, but the faint distance allowed her other senses a chance to process the sound of approaching footsteps. Not in time to leave her lover's embrace, however, before they reached the doorway.

"Hey, Sweetheart— Drew Theodore P. Lipsky!"

It was Shego who moved first, putting a healthy space between them and leaving Drakken blinking and confused for a moment with his lips still parted before he had processed the voice that had spoken.

"M-Mother!" Drakken cried, darting behind Shego instinctively at the sight of his mother's judgmental expression.

"And no ring on her finger yet! For shame!"

Shego's face flushed as she was sure Drakken's was doing as well. That was a topic she definitely did not want to get into right then, and least of all with Drakken's mother who had her own agenda on the matter.

Mrs. Lipsky had opted for nicer attire for the evening as well, choosing a conservative charcoal sheath dress with a floral teal and peach floral sweater and pearls.

"Dr. D.," Shego said quickly, stepping away from the mad scientist and leaving him looking very exposed as he waved at his mother and attempted a weak smile through kiss-swollen lips. "Shouldn't you and your mother hurry to make your reservation on time?"

"Ahh...y-yes. But first," Drakken said, turning and nearly tripping over his feet as he hurried to pick up his mother's gift from the bed. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

The irritated crinkle at the older woman's eyes softened as her frown bloomed into a smile.

"Roses! And chocolate! Oh Drewbie, you shouldn't have!"

"O-Only the best for you, Mother," Drakken said as he presented the gift with a nervous smile.

"Marzipan! My favorite!" Mama Lipsky said after plopping one of the chocolates into her mouth.

"Of course! Now...Shego was right, we'd best get going," Drakken said. He began looking around for his suit coat, and then stopped short when he found Shego holding it up for him, a smirk on her face.

"Aw, she's so thoughtful Drew!" Mama Lipsky said, smiling fondly at Shego as she closed the chocolate box. "Dear, would you mind putting these in water for me until we get back?"

"Sure," Shego replied, smoothing Drakken's jacket over his shoulders.

She received the flowers from the woman a moment later, who squeezed her hand with a grateful smile before turning toward the door. Without the watchful gaze of older generation, Drakken turned worried eyes back upon Shego. All of his fears from the rambling of before were spoken in the inky blue of his irises, and Shego was tempted to give him a shove toward the door as a way of telling him to knock it off. Instead, she leaned in to let her lips graze his ear, speaking so softly she could hardly hear her own voice.

"She'll always have faith in you. Besides, you saved the world. You've accomplished more than she could have ever dreamed. Have some faith in her."

Shego felt again the release of tension from Drakken's frame as she adjusted the medal over his tie. She smirked again when he pulled away, the light of hope having returned to her lover's eyes.

"Coming, Drewbie?"

"Yes...yes, Mother," Drakken said and turned to go, confidence back in his stride.

Shego tilted her head down to smell the flowers as the two left. It was a strange new world they'd found themselves in since the invasion, but, some things would always be constants.

"Now, Drew, on the phone you'd said there was something you wanted to tell me...?"

#kim possible #drakgo #drakken #shego #drakken x shego #mama lipsky #fanfiction #drew lipsky #ficwip #hey sweetheart #sweetheart2024

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all-hallows-street · 6 months

Text

Guess whose financial mistake arrived early...

I will give more in depth looks later (I have to work to afford such questionable purchases), but a quick individual review of what I got:

Neil Demon Plushy

Not a plush toys collector at all; my closest reference is the IKEA shark. He is heavier than he looks, very sturdy (?) if that makes sense. Doesn't seem like he will deform any time soon. The details are adorable and I don't see any glaring defects.

All Saints Street Hoodie

Surprisingly large for me. I was worried they only had one size made for the Chinese market. I'm 1.7m (5 foot 7) tall for reference and this is still a bit too big for me. Will likely get too small for anyone over 6 feet tall. The quality is good! Very soft. Velvet interior. I don't know much about shirt stamping, but since it's not in the fabric I'm guessing the stamp might start to crack after multiple washes.

All Saints Street Vol. 1-3 Collection

Now this is something I can talk about more. The sleeve was unfortunately damaged in shipping and the books have very minor damage in the spine and vol 2 has a minor case of dog ears. The quality of the paper is great! It is color paper, not glossy one you see in comic book issues, but it's thicker than the black and white you see in manga. Would still make sure to have a dehumidifier if your storing place is not dry. I've already experienced book wrapping and it's painful.

Each volume contains around 80 chapters with one extra chapter not on bilibili. They also contain a message from Lingzi and WSJ's editor, plus all character bios even for ones we never got one (Enrique, Eduardo ans Anthony). And if a Weibo post is correct some might have been updated from the ones online (Axel grew 1 cm in the book bio).

Of course later I'll look over everything to see if there are any significan changes to make a note of. Also it came with this lol.

I have the Alice in Wonderland art somewhere, I'll post it later as well.

All Saints Street Anniversary Playing Cards

The playing card decks from the 6th and the 7th anniversary. As you can see I haven't opened the 7th, but I got the 6th a while ago on AliExpress so I expect them to be similar.

This is something else I can review more in depth, coming from a family that loves playing poker. The quality of the prints is beautiful, however I keep them in the box all the time because the quality of the cards itself is not good!

The cards feel like store bought cardboard; good playing cards are made out of cardboard, but this deck doesn't have the same treatment. They are so fragile, even by just handling them to get the face cards I've already made slight damage to the edges. I wouldn't play any game with them, much less shuffle them. I don't even want to imagine how much they will bend. Also the Crystal card came with damage (the small white spot on the edge) from the store. Pain.

Anyways. I'll frame the face cards because they are so pretty and I want to keep them in the best condition... I don't know what I will do with the rest of the 36 cards. Maybe practice magic tricks? Lol. Before all this I've been working on how to scan all the face cards and post them, but it's been more difficult than expected. If you have ever tried to digitize prints you will know. Once I have them, I'll post them alongside high quality scans.

When it comes to my review of PandaBuy... On one hand it was an excellent service and experience. On the other... I don't even want to reveal how much the shipping was. I wouldn't recommend anyone else do it unless you are stupid with your money (like me), even then

I would advice to do your own research. PandaBuy and all agents to buy from China are definitely better when you buy in bulk. My package was 'only' 2kg. Many people buy over 10kg to make it worth it. I'm already committed so if new volumes come out I will buy them, and maybe also get counterfeit Gucci shoes or something since that's what most people use this agents for...

That's all for now. Feel free to reply or send any questions you have.

#all saints street #wan sheng jie #1031 万圣街 #merch #personal #manhua

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fandom-junk-drawer · 2 years

Text

The Witcher Headcanon - Trouble Bonus Scene - Part 2

Here's part 2, with a little surprise at the end!

@hollowxo @kierancaz

It was Jaskier who had woken up Geralt. The Witcher had fallen asleep with the baby on his chest, and was rudely awakened by said baby on his chest. Whose mouth was on him, and doing something he'd rather not talk about...

Geralt tried not to panic. He flapped a hand helplessly for a moment, before roughly patting at Yennefer's shoulder and whispering harshly.

Yen, Yen wake up! Yen, get him off!

Yennefer woke with a grumble that turned into a stifled laugh when she saw what had Geralt so bothered.

Don't just lay there and laugh! Do something! Get him off!

I told you not to sleep without a shirt! *giggle snort*

Stop f***ing laughing and help me! I'm serious, Yen!

Just stick your finger in the corner of his mouth!

Owowowow, F**K!

Stop pulling!

hE's BiTiNg mEEEEEEE!

Stick your finger-!

OW! F**K! I smell blood! I smell blood!

Oh, for f**ksake! There, you big baby!

Oh, don't be so dramatic, it is NOT 'hanging on by a scrap of skin'! It's just a little bite.

There! I fixed it, now stop whining!

Oh, hush and look on the bright side. Eskel is going to be so jealous when he sees your Love Bite!

"Awww, poor lamb! Did Geralt's screaming scare you awake? Shhh, shhhh, shhh, it's alright! "

Since they were all up now, Yennefer decided to take Jaskier with her to the market. He was feeling better, and she wanted to get him the things he would need until she could figure out exactly what the curse was, and how to break it.

Yennefer stolled through the market, making her purchases and passing them to Coen, Eskel, or Lambert, whose sole purpose was to carry anything she handed them. Geralt was walking besider her, busy trying to look like a big, scary Witcher while carrying an adorable baby who was sucking his thumb and looking at everything with big, curious eyes.

The first thing she bought was diapers and clothes, and Jaskier was now dressed in a loose, fine white linen shirt with little multi colored birds embroidered on the front, lace at the ruffled cuffs and neck, and a pair of peacock blue trousers. Even Geralt admitted that the pattern and colors suited him.

The trip was taking a bit longer than Geralt and his brothers would have liked. For one thing, Yennefer was being very choosy about what she bought. Second, they kept getting stopped. People looked at Yennefer, with Geralt at her elbow, carrying Jaskier, and inspite of all the rumors about Witchers, just assumed...

"Excuse me, Miss, but your son is beautiful!"

"Thank you!" Yennefer said modestly, playing along and chatting with the ladies, while Geralt stood there uncomfortably, holding Jaskier who kicked his chubby legs and babbled happily at the attention.

Geralt gave an awkward 'Hmm.' when the women's admiring gazes turned to him after Yennefer, amused by his discomfort, threw him under the bus with her comment of "You're pretty like your daddy, aren't you, Julek?"

He could hear his brothers snickering from a safe distance away.

The ladies fawned over Jaskier, talking to him, and telling him how pretty he was. The toddler seemed to know he was being adored and turned on the charm, babbling and smiling for his admirers.

Yennefer recognized that smile. She'd seen him use it often enough when chasing a lady. It was that sweet, beautiful smile that lit up his face and was disgustingly adorable. No wonder it worked so well. He'd been practicing it since birth!

"Alright, say 'bye' to the nice ladies, my sweet lamb," Yennefer said, finally taking pity on Geralt.

Jaskier babbled, then pressed his little hand to his mouth and blew the ladies kisses. The women squealed with glee and blew kisses back while Yennefer and Geralt both stood there thinking You little sh*t!

Geralt 'hmm'ed his discomfort once the women had gone.

"Oh, don't get so worked up over it, " Yennefer chided as she dragged Geralt to the next market stall, "There's no point in correcting them. What are going to say, anyway? 'That's not my son, it's my BFF who'se got a curse on him that turned him into a toddler?' "

Well, if she wanted to play that game... Geralt said nothing, but from then on, he made it his private mission to get Jaskier to call Yennefer 'Ma' in public.

While he followed Yennefer, biding his time, he realized something. Babies were manipulative little creatures. There was no malice behind it, only base survival instinct. Every time a baby cried, the parents were right there, giving it things until it stopped. Food, comfort, entertainment, crying was the only way to express that need when you couldn't talk. Or when your vocabulary was limited to three or four words.

Jaskier, at the moment was no different. Geralt marveled at how easily he could wrap them around his tiny finger. The moment he started fussing, Geralt and Yennefer were giving him their full attention.

He was now happily playing with a wooden spoon. Geralt didn't know what it was about the spoon that had fascinated him. It was just a plain cedar spoon. There was nothing really remarkable about it, but he'd reached for it, babbling, and looked at Yennefer with his bottom lip trembling when she'd told him 'No'. He'd turned to Geralt with a whimper and made a little grasping motion with his hand, his cherubic face pinching up.

"Geralt...No! Geralt! No, Geralt!" Yennefer had hissed at him as Jaskier had made desperate whimpering noises. Geralt had glanced at Yennefer, then back at Jaskier, and looked into those pretty eyes that were now very dewey. And sad. And his thick eyelashes were getting damp with tears. And his little bottom lip was sticking out. And the sunlight hit his soft brown mop of hair just right... Oh, gods, he was trapped! He could feel his hand moving of it's own volition...

"No! Don't! Don't you do it! No, Geralt! Geralt, don't you dare...Geralt! Geralt! Geralt, no!"

Geralt handed the stall owner the coins and the spoon was placed in Jaskier's tiny hands. Yennefer glared at Geralt and was about to make what was surely going to be a sarcastic comment, when Jaskier dropped his spoon. He started to cry, and Yennefer immediately picked it back up, shushing him as she wiped it off and handed it back.

"Shhh, shhh, lamb! Here! Here it is! Ma picked it up for you-!"

Geralt sucked his lips into his mouth, biting down hard to keep the smile at bay as Yennefer's expression went wooden when she realized what she'd said. She looked sharply at Geralt, who refused to look at her.

He was trying desperately not to smile. The man was fighting for his life. Standing far enough away that they wouldn't be associated with the 'happy family', Lambert, Eskel, and Coen were ugly laughing.

And right on cue, a young lady shyly came over to admire their child.

Geralt whispered something to the toddler, who held out his spoon to Yennefer and chirped "Ma!" . Yennefer smiled and took him from Geralt, glaring at the Witcher while the lady was distracted.

You a**!

*Smug mental 'Hmm'*

Eskel elbowed Lambert in the ribs and twitched an eyebrow, then strode up and said excitedly "Hey, Geralt, Yennefer, you're here too?" as he scooped Jaskier out of Yennefer's arms.

"Oh, look at you, Baby Bird! You're getting so big! Are you out shopping with your Ma?" Jaskier chortled and kicked happily, and said "Ma!" again. "You're talking now, Julek?! That's right, 'Ma'!" Eskel continued when Jaskier squealed 'Ma' again. "Where's Ma? Where's she at? There she is! There's your Ma!"

Jaskier chuckled and chanted 'Ma!' happily as he reached for his 'Ma'. Yennefer smiled and mentally committed murder as she took him back from Eskel.

Geralt was going to dip the f**k out while everyone was distracted, but just as he was turning to go, he was stopped in his tracks at Jaskier's whimpered "Da!"

F**k.

Yennefer smiled like a shark scenting blood. "You want your Da, Julek? Here, let daddy hold you!"

Geralt took the toddler back, shifting his weight from foot to foot in a gentle swaying motion until Jaskier stopped fussing.

"Awww, the poor little dove thought you were leaving!" the young lady said, with a soft laugh. Eskel laughed along with her.

"Don't worry, Julek. Your Da wasn't going anywere!" he said, patting Jaskier's back.

"That's right, lamb, he wasn't going anywhere. Right, Geralt?" Yennefer said, smiling pointedly at Geralt.

"Of course not," Geralt rumbled, flashing Eskel a glare for his betrayal. Geralt had forgotten that Eskel was nobody's friend when it came to games. Eskel was the Gen-Xer of Witchers. He would start sh*t just for the entertainment value.

"Oh, look, Julek, there's your Uncle Lambert! Eskel exclaimed as Lambert walked by, pretending to be there alone. "Hey, Lambchop!" Eskel called, waving at the other Witcher "Over here! Look who it is!"

Lambert jogged over and grinned, saying "Geralt! Yennefer! How have you been? " He turned and called to Coen, who was lingering a healthy distance away, holding all the stuff Yennefer had bought. "Hey, Coen, It's little Julek! Come say hi!"

Coen could see the murderous looks Yennefer and Geralt were giving him from where he was standing. He decided he didn't want any of that.

"Er, I'm going to take this stuff to the horses. I'll catch up with you later. Maybe we can meet somewhere for lunch." And he turned and walked away at record speed.

"Wow, look at how big that baby is getting!" Lambert said, after giving Coen's retreating form a scowl. He put his arms out, and Jaskeir made happy baby noises and grabbed at Lambert's hands. "Come here, little man! You having fun shopping with your Ma and Da?" Jaskier babbled at Lambert and peeped "Ma! Da!"

The young woman stood there, smiling and re evaluating her opinion on Witchers. They certainly didn't seem all that scary, especially when they were being so soft with the little toddler... She watched as they took turns blowing raspberries on his little stomach.

Jaskier patted at Lambert's beard, momentarily distracted by it, and squealed delightedly when Lambert pretened to eat his hand. "What a lovely spoon! Did Ma and Da buy that for you?"

"Ma! Da!"

Yennefer mentally dug a second hole to bury the body in while Geralt mentally drew his sword to commit the murder.

"That's right! Say it again!" Lambert encouraged. Jaskier laughed and giggled, saying 'Ma' and 'Da' while the Witcher smiled proudly. "That's my boy! Talking already! He passed Jaskier back to Geralt when the baby chirped "Da!" and reached for him.

"F**k, they grow up so fast!" Lambert sighed wistfully.

Jaskier chuckled like a little gremlin and said "F**k!"

Yennefer and Geralt winced and did the Awkward Parent Laugh before muttering embarrased appologies for their child's language. The young lady gave them an understanding look, smiling brightly at Jaskier as he giggled and blew her a kiss. She bid them a good day and went about her errands.

The second the young lady was gone, Yennefer had Eskel and Lambert by an ear each, before they could even move, and was dragging them back to the horses.

"That's right, Jaskier," Geralt chuckled as Jaskier blew the retreating figures a kiss, "Kiss their a**es goodbye, because 'Ma' is going to kill them!"...

Bonus Doodle: Geralt holding baby!jaskier at the market

#the witcher #the witcher headcanon #geralt #geralt of rivia #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskifer #kaer morons #lambert #eskel #coen #baby!jaskier #twn #the witcher netflix #geraskefer #trouble headcanon #henry cavill

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alinelie · 4 months

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List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to simblrs whose sims you adore 💜

HELLO my friend MHAW thank you for this ask! <333 Sorry for the late reply, but I was busy with boring stuff (work). I'll obviously talk about Graham because I haven't told solid facts about him since this and this. So, here are solid five facts about his life.

To be honest, you could just call Graham a thief. He inherited the family business from his grandfather, which he now runs. The business involves stealing or importing well-known works of art, making copies, and then selling them. Before him, the company was run by a grandfather who, against his sons' wishes, passed his wealth down to his grandson. Graham made a minor change to the way the business runs. His grandfather stole paintings from the homes of wealthy aristocrats. Graham, on the other hand, established himself in society primarily as an art collector, with occasional sponsorship of the development of new artists. This appears to be the complete opposite of his grandfather's actions.

Let's move on to the trial now that we know what the Graham family is up to. Because the Graham family is well-known in the city, whether for what his grandfather had to do with or for His uncle's sentences, many eyes are on him. As a result, from time to time, a cop or detective appears and decides to put an end to the Ventura family's actions. Graham's cousin's bar, as well as confirmation that he has legally purchased works of art from artists or other traders, serve as the cover-up that defines him as a proper member of society. However, in this case, it was not enough, and one of the detectives was able to bring charges against him. Unfortunately for Graham, his lawyer disappeared just a few weeks before the trial.

Aside from his parents, Graham didn't have many positive roles of a healthy marriage. His grandparents were still in a toxic relationship, and his uncle's marriage ended shortly after wedding. He is, however, a romantic who hopes for relationships filled with love and trust, and he also wants a happily ever after.

Graham led a peaceful life before unexpectedly taking over the family business. He had a fiancée, served in the army, and went to college. His only problem was that his future father-in-law did not accept him and would not let him marry his daughter. When he found his grandfather's will, everything changed. His partner's father had canceled the wedding shortly before, and the girl had left town. Graham had numerous non-serious relationships during his adult life, as well as several dates with his ex-fiancée after she had a husband and children.

After these long and serious facts, let's move on to the final one. Graham's house is full of life. The basement includes a hidden studio, and the house functions as a resting area for the staff members. The house is home to his sister, cousin, and two friends on a regular basis. Also, all meetings and paperwork take place at home. That is why Graham's main sleeping area is on the top floor, far from the sounds of a crowded household.

#oc: graham ventura #oc extras #sims 4 ocs #ts4 #HI <3333 HOW ARE YOU <3333

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mjolnir-steve · 2 years

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if ur feeling so inclined i'd love to read something with our bestest boy steve rogers, maybe fall-themed? maybe you're making hot chocolate or carving pumpkins or something 🥹 of course no pressure. congrats again my love!!!

AM I EVER!!!! Thank you so much for this sweet prompt and for being an even sweeter friend. I adore you 🥺💜 I guess I’ll call this a ficlet because it’s almost 1000 words. Oops!

A Whittle More Practice

Steve Rogers x gn!reader

Word count: 876

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff hehehe

A/N: Special shout-out to @the-sal-del-mar for the pun/title 😉 Sweet divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics!

“Steeeeeeeeeve, we have to grab some pumpkins! Pretty please?” Before he had a chance to respond, you were already walking over to the wooden pallet where pumpkins of all shapes and sizes were stacked for purchase. You were on the checkout line at the apple orchard after spending most of the morning on your boyfriend’s shoulders, picking the most perfect, unblemished apples from the tops of the trees. He even helped out a few families whose little ones insisted on using the former Captain America as a human elevator.

As you scrutinized the selection in front of you, Steve grabbed a pumpkin-carving kit at the register while a teenager weighed your basket of apples. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he called to you, smiling and running over to help you since you were struggling to carry four medium-sized pumpkins on your own. He handed his debit card to the boy ringing you up before you even had a chance to take out your wallet, earning a huff from you. He leaned down to sign the receipt, tutting at you. “None of that. This was my idea. My treat.”

You pressed a kiss to his flannel-covered bicep before he placed the pumpkins and apples in the complimentary wagon from the orchard. With the handle in one hand and your hand in the other, he wheeled your purchases back to the car, loading the trunk swiftly as you climbed in and started the engine, turning up the heat just a little bit.

A little less than an hour later, you made it back to your shared apartment. “Hey, why don’t you go up and clear the table for the pumpkins? I’ll carry everything,” Steve ordered gently, squeezing your hand in his before getting out of the car. To Steve’s dismay, you took two of the pumpkins and the gallon of fresh apple cider and climbed the two flights of stairs, awkwardly maneuvering to get the door unlocked with your hands so full.

Once inside, you poured some of the cider into a pot and turned on the stove, warming the sweet and spiced drink to enjoy while you kicked off fall festivities. You set to work clearing off the kitchen table and set down some newspapers and plastic bags to aid in cleaning up the inevitable mess. Finally, you changed into your stained, designated crafting t-shirt so you wouldn’t ruin your new sweater you’d picked out just for this morning’s activities.

“Sweetheart, can you come open the door for me?” Steve called from the hall, arms full of all sorts of farm-fresh goodies, plus the other two pumpkins. You let him in and helped carry everything to the kitchen counter, then stopped to pour the two mugs of cider and brought them to the table. “That smells amazing.” He smiled softly and his eyes closed on instinct as he inhaled the scent of the drink, his face so innocent, reminding you that there was so much he never got to experience as a kid and before going into the ice.

“I can’t believe my boyfriend is the most beautiful man in the world,” you cooed, cupping his cheek in your hand before kissing him, making him blush all rosy and warm. You peppered kisses across his face, making sure not to miss any freckles, until he was laughing so hard you had to stop.

“All right, all right. I give.” He kissed your cheek, mouthing a thank you against your skin. He grabbed his laptop from the bedroom, placing it on the kitchen counter and playing Hocus Pocus, which you’d introduced to him this time last year. “Let’s do this.” Steve rubbed his hands together in determination before tearing open the carving kit. He’d never done this before, but how hard could it really be?

You set to work on your first pumpkin, cutting out a standard jack-o’-lantern face with ease. As you started on your second, Steve was still struggling with his first. The knives were too small for his hands, and no matter how careful he was, he kept breaking through the rind in places he hadn’t intended. You could tell he was becoming frustrated, so around the time “I Put a Spell on You” finished playing in the background, you slipped away to Steve’s office and returned with some of his paints and brushes.

“Baby?” Steve looked up at you, dejectedly dropping the tiny blade to the table. “Would you rather paint your other pumpkin? I think we can just use this one for pie at this point.” You gave him a small smile, placing the supplies on top of a clean section of newspaper. He tilted his head up to kiss your cheek, then grabbed the bottle of black paint, shaking it vigorously before squeezing some out on the newspaper and dipping a brush into it.

“How do you always know how to fix things? Fix me?” He began by painting the stem black while he thought of his design.

“There was nothing to fix, Steve.” You rubbed his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. “You just need a whittle more practice.”

Steve snorted, nearly spitting out the sip of cider he’d dared to take. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“Yeah, I am, aren’t I?”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x gn!reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fic #steve rogers #maggie's writing #maggie answers #rodrikstark 💙

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godsofhumanity · 1 year

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ARIADNE by JENNIFER SAINT | REVIEW

this was recommended to me by Anon. my motivation for reading it was that Anon said they were considering dropping it while only a third of the way through, which i thought sounded promising.

OVERVIEW: Ariadne, Princess of Crete, grows up greeting the dawn from her beautiful dancing floor and listening to her nursemaid's stories of gods and heroes. But beneath her golden palace echo the ever-present hoofbeats of her brother, the Minotaur, a monster who demands blood sacrifice. When Theseus, the Prince of Athens, arrives to vanquish the beast, Ariadne sees in his green eyes not a threat but an escape. Defying the gods, betraying her family and country, and risking everything for love, Ariadne helps Theseus kill the Minotaur. But will Ariadne's decision ensure her happy ending? And what of Phaedra, the beloved younger sister she leaves behind?

RATING: 8.7/10 i KNOW many of you disliked the book, and i'm surprised at myself, but i really enjoyed the book??? i could read it again! if you enjoy sweeter depictions of gods and heroes, this book is not for you.

AVAILABLE AT: pdf link here (google drive link) or u can spend money on purchasing a copy from a legitimate seller :-)

my review sort of developed unwittingly into an analysis of the text, so im sorry about that hahaha, but yeah. spoilers undercut!

THINGS I LIKED:

the writing style!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Saint's style of writing is nothing short of beautiful to me, i like the way she phrases things.. her writing is like smooth, dripping caramel.. it rolls off your tongue with a lovely fluidity that i really adore and it made me want to read more.

the imagery. this is related to Saint's writing style but i really liked the way she described settings and scenes... her metaphors and foreshadowing techniques were wonderful.

for example, there's this line about Asterion in Chapter 2 when we first learn of the Minotaur's true name, and since Asterion means "star", it makes the name sound very bright and hopeful. but Saint twists this around- she identifies Asterion's starry nature with the darkness that accompanies the stars.. she describes it as a "raging fire if you came too close" which is a great way of foreshadowing the future terror Asterion would come to be recognised as.

Ariadne's dancing. i know some of my mutuals weren't fans of Ariadne's constant dancing, and maybe dancing as a hobby for a girl feels like an outdated cliche, but let's be real, Ariadne isn't exactly in a society where she could be a STEM buff and the reader would believe it.. so even though yeah, it's a bit cringe, i don't hate it. i liked that Ariadne picks up her mother's hobby -- dancing is initially introduced as something Pasiphae loved to do, before she became docile and empty.

continuing on the dancing- i think that Ariadne inheriting Pasiphae's hobby was really important for setting Ariadne up as Pasiphae's successor. once Pasiphae becomes a crumbling shell of a woman following Asterion's birth, she essentially becomes a recluse and doesn't have any real further use to Minos-- but Minos' eldest child, Androgeos, is already dead and out of the picture, and the other brother (whose name is escaping me rn sorry haha) gets sent to live with his uncle, so now that Ariadne is the oldest, Minos' eyes are naturally on her to see how she can be used in his interest. and that's exactly where the story goes- Pasiphae takes a back seat, and Ariadne gets betrothed to Cinyras, etc. so, i do appreciate the dancing motif, i think it worked.

the darkness looming behind Theseus- another foreshadowing technique. even if you were unfamiliar with Theseus and Ariadne's myth, it was obvious that, handsome and lovely as Theseus appeared, something sinister was going to happen to Ariadne at Theseus' hands.. i like the change from the noble dolphin to the cunning shark imagery change in Chapter 6.. it makes you want to read on and see who exactly Theseus is.

the inclusion of Heracles. in my mind, Heracles is THE ultimate hero.. i picture him, as many do, to be the greatest of the greek heroes, so the image of him being a role model of sorts to Theseus works well, and also gives us more hints as to the kind of guy Theseus is. even in the myths, there are many parallels between Heracles and Theseus that other heroes can't really boast of-- quest-like adventures where they fight monster after monster, attempt challenges, abduct women, etc.

Medea and Theseus' relationship. i don't think i've ever seen any interaction between them in media before, and even though Medea is my babygirl and i love her to bits, i loved the way Theseus describes her- it makes her scary and evil, and from Theseus' perspective, this made perfect sense.

plot pacing was nice. not too fast, not too slow. i did think maybe Ariadne's deliberation about helping Theseus or not could have been expanded more (she did it rather quickly), but all in all, good pace.

Dionysus' debut in the book.. it was nice. he was still godly even though he was so human, which is exactly what Saint intended.

the handling of Pasiphae's love affair with the Cretan Bull. i don't think it's an easy thing to describe a woman being compelled with lust for a bull so much so that she would hide in a wooden mannequin of a cow that said bull could copulate with thereby, unwittingly, copulating with a woman without sounding absolutely bonkers. but i felt it was written really well.. the whole story of Pasiphae was so utterly sad and gloomy.. it was perfectly done. more than this, i love that Pasiphae actually doesn't abandon the Minotaur-- she mourns him, she feeds him.. it's so warped, but it made Pasiphae seem more than human, no human woman could go through all that and still nurture the child, but she does- after all, she is more than human- the blood of Helios runs in her veins.

the brutality. the tragedy. Ariadne is not a perfect heroine- sure, she's beautiful and kind, Theseus is enamoured with her, Dionysus himself marries her.. but she's not a mary-sue. she's naive, she's scared.. Phaedra is not naive, she makes up for Ariadne's flaws and yet still is so tortured.. she continues the cycle of tragedy that plagues her family, following her mother's perverse desires when she too attempts to embrace Hippolytus, her own step-son.

at first, i hated that Phaedra's infatuation with Hippolytus was not a curse of the gods but her own will-- but upon concluding the novel, i actually feel that this worked better... both sisters are so damaged, so tortured. of course they never get a happy ending. it sucks, but, i really liked how the narrative did not show bias to any character.

Dionysus' murdering the children of the Argive women.. i personally prefer stories where the gods are depicted as cruel and cold. i was worried at first when i read Dionysus' intro that he was too "perfect".. it bugged me that Theseus was made out to be so awful, but Dionysus, who in the myths does so many atrocious things himself, was excused.. but that's not how it ended up, and i really really liked that.

the absolute lack of happy endings. greek mythology is mostly tragedy, i like that the characters weren't sugar-coated. bad things happen to everyone; gods, heroes, mortals.

Hera's minor appearance at the side of Perseus. she's so 🥺

LOVED Perseus' depiction!!!!!!!!!!! he was perfect!

THINGS I LOVED AND HATED SIMULTANEOUSLY:

Theseus being reduced to an evil bastard. i think Theseus is easily one of the worst greek heroes ever, but i've always being attached to the idea that he only becomes the worst guy ever because he loses faith in the gods he adores because THEY abandon HIM first when they ask him to leave Ariadne behind for Dionysus. but of course, this doesn't happen in the novel, and Theseus actually leaves her off his own accord- i like the change, i know many people agree with this version, and i do like the idea he purposely misled Phaedra into meeting them at the wrong place.. and i also love the implication that Theseus INTENTIONALLY left the black sails up so that Aegeus would kill himself and Theseus would inherit the throne quicker.. i don't know if that's what Saint intended, but that was the implication to me, and i don't hate it. if Theseus is going to be a bastard in this book, he better be a wicked bastard.

THINGS I DISLIKED:

why would Hades feel delight at the idea of Hera, his sister with whom he shared the days of his youth inside their father's stomach with, being forced to share her golden halls with a mortal, a constant reminder of her failure to satisfy Zeus' carnal desires herself???????? this sort of just felt.. idk. it didn't make sense, there was no justification for it.

the vilification of Hera. Hera isn't even a minor character in the Theseus and Ariadne myth, but somehow, even in this story where she has no major role, she's being vilified??? how did Ariadne not see the parallels between her and Hera?? both women married/nearly married a man whom they trusted, but end up back-stabbing and leaving them for other women?!! why would Hera, of all the gods, be the one Saint chose to vilify?

relating to this-- when Ariadne falls pregnant, she pours libations for Eileithyia, and even Demeter, but not to Hera?? THE goddess of marriage, women, and family. it feels like Ariadne is inviting trouble on purpose!!!

there's a tendency in myth retellings for authors to try and cram in as many extra myth stories as possible.. and in this one, we had Medusa, Medea, Icarus, Ampelon, Scylla.. some were relevant, but tbh, i thought the whole thing with Daedalus and Icarus was rushed- i mean, out of nowhere Daedalus is out there with his wax wings. also, given the kind-hearted depiction of Daedalus that was introduced to us in the early chapters, i find it difficult to reconcile the image of that same Daedalus abandoning his son- just flying away as he watched Icarus plummet into the seas, not even trying to rescue him, not even considering dying with him. idk.. i thought the story was rushed.

#long post #review #ariadne by jennifer saint

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agentsquirrelsgotrobots · 10 months

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"Stalker's Tango (Love Me, Love Me, Love Me...)" by Autoheart | Female C...

youtube

Dani x blades, anyone? This is for my Burns mafia au, and the song fit too well for what I was planning for the get-together fic. Enjoy

It's crazy how little it took to hack Blades mind, make him crazy for her.

Dani started wearing perfume oil, a stronger, heavier but still feminine, lingering scent, even when not applied daily. It wafered off her skin, and soon enough, Kade told her that Blades would look around eagerly if he smelt anything close to the distinctive scent.

With all things Dani adopted, it quickly caught on trend, but never anywhere near copying her, all the stores on the island pulling the oil off shelves out of an abundance of caution, a few moving their displays around so you had to have a salesperson with you in order to purchase it.

The last thing any business owner needed was to be known as the business that sold to a (stupidly suicidal) copycat. Chief Charles Burns spoiled his fiercely independent daughter rotten when he got the opportunity, and that included executions.

And trips with her friends to pick up odds and ends to help with her efforts to finally get that stubborn hunk of metal to admit he found her hot and wanted to marry her and just do the goddamn proposal already. Dad had already bought her a set of sleek engagement, wedding, and milestone rings, and she had picked out a design for a custom dog tag to wear when she's working. Can't risk having blood get stuck in her pretty lab grown diamonds. If she was going to spend that much money, she was going to make sure she got exactly what she wanted.

In the end, it was perfume off all things. Not the dresses or the promise of his culture's version of an engagement ring, but a little perfume oil she spilled on herself when adding it to her bottle?

Like a kid running after an ice cream truck, he was having his holoform slip a ring on her finger by the end of the month. Boom. Some passion for all the little traditions and some open-mindedness towards not insisting that every little touch be soft and delicate. Dani liked that he was sweet and shy but was sick of him freaking out whenever he left a bruise or made her sore. She had long accepted that he liked to cuddle in bed instead of tumble in it.

Oh well, at least he was good in it.

Optimus was pissed, and both Dani and Charlie were living for it.

The fact that he had to officiate the cybertronian portion of their wedding?

Priceless.

The look on his face Charlie saw when Blades ducked back into the prep area, and his holo matter avatar and Dani came out together, and he was in a suit?

Glorious, absolutely glorious.

He had to pull himself together quickly as the human officiate took his place, and the couple spoke their vows and kissed generously, Blades grabbing Dani's veil to hide their faces. Kade, Cody, and Boulder egged them on.

Chase had to remind Optimus that what was appropriate at a wedding has changed dramatically since the eighties.

Optimus wisely decided to leave before they moved into the reception, and people started to visit the bar. And the engex crates. And for Chase and Blades, whose holo matter avatars let them get drunk in both forms, both.

And boy o boy, did everyone get drunk.

A limo service was booked, but there were a few people - and Boulder - who staggered out with the help of his teammates. Bumblebee, Strongarm, Hot Rod, and Smokescreen showed up at some point, and Dani suspected that there might have been three in the honeymoon suite, but honestly, that's Blades the helicopter's fun.

Blades, Dani's husband, was busy worshipping every inch of her, making her melt and drift away from her job of finding hikers and killing rivals.

Blades got up and ran the shower, cleaning himself off. Dani followed him, giving him a peck on the cheek before taking care of herself.

She curled up with him, knowing that he would be adorably clingy for the next couple of days as she made it up to him in attention and time together.

Yelp, he buried his face in her neck, she's not going anywhere.

She drifted off to sleep, Blades powering doen as soon as head hit pillow.

Hey, at least they were both happy.

At least, she was.

#mafia au #transformers rescue bots #tfrb cody #rescue bots #transformers #tw suggestive #mostly offscreen with cuddling afterward

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