#and I said this with fourth wing I thought if I was a straight or bi woman I would probably like their chemistry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stories-and-chaos · 2 months

Text

Helluva High

AU: Overlord Husk and Angel

[Little one shot inspired by @celestialalpacaron ‘s au of Husk and Angel. Valentino is a sore loser, but Husk has his spider’s back. Enjoy!

Word count 1065 Cw: cursing, emotional manipulation, trauma response (disclosure: I’ve never experienced trauma like this so I apologize if Angel’s reaction isn’t accurate.) ]

***********

Angel was frozen, stuck between fear and desire. His former boss, Valentino, was here. At Husk’s casino. Angel Dust had been working the tables for a couple months now. His looks, charisma, and reputation had him hustling patrons for all they were worth and more.

But despite that reputation (and all the salacious videos of him still being sold) he wasn’t for sale. Not for any amount of time or money. Husk was adamant on that. “You wanna sleep with someone off the clock, that’s your business,” he’d told Angel. “But do it because you want to, not because someone john is paying, got it?”

Now Val was here and Angel could barely help himself. The moth demon had grabbed his arm as he walked past. Now he was pulling the spider close, cooing sweet venomous words at the former porn star. “Angiiiiieee, I miss you baby. That mean old kitty won’t let me win you back. I need you Angel.” Val’s hand stroked up Angel’s thigh, sneaking under the slit in his gown. “I know you want me too, baby. No one can give you what you need, not like me.” One of his other hands grasped another of Angel’s arms. He hooked a finger of his fourth hand under Angel’s pearl choker, “Come on Angel, tell the kittycat to give me a shot at you. Then we can go home and I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget all this ever happened.”

Angel’s breath caught. Everything about Valentino made him want to just melt away. His voice, his cigarette smoke, the hands stroking his limbs with a hint of claws. But Angel didn’t want to go back. His eyes darted back and forth in panic. He caught a flash of red wings, black fur, and gold eyes. “Do it because you want to…”

“Fuck!” he managed to gasp as he jerked back. The string of pearls snapped at the sudden movement. The iridescent orbs shimmered in the light as they clattered on the table and floor. “No…” he said, voice wavering.

Angel stood up as straight as he could. Valentino’s rage at being denied built quickly. He moved to grab Angel’s arm again but Angel stepped back. “I…I need a break boss,” he said as loud as he could.

“Take the night off babe. You’ve been working hard last few nights,” Husk said curtly as he stepped between Angel and Val. “Thought you knew better than that ‘Tino.” He faced the other Overlord as Angel dashed to the elevator. “Am I gonna have to throw you out?”

“Fuck, just let me play for him again. What do you want a crackwhore like him for anyway?”

“You ain’t got anything worth betting Angel for.” Four members of the casino security turned up to flank their leader. “Get out ‘Tino. If my boys don’t have to drag your ass out, I won’t charge you for the pearls.”

Val spun away, muttering “fucking furry ass prick, that twink bitch, goddamn assholes.” He squeaked in agitation as he stormed out.

Shortly after Valentino’s limo was gone, Husk took the elevator to the penthouse suites. Angel’s door was cracked open. All his arms were wrapped around himself as rocked on the bed. Husk knocked on the door with the top of his cane. The spider demon jerked, eyes blown wide enough that Husk could see the pupils in even the six small ones.

“He’s gone,” the gambler said mildly. Angel took a deep shaky breath. “You did good.” At Angel’s surprised look he continued, “I told you, anyone fucks with you, they answer to me.”

After a couple more breaths, Angel managed to reply. “Thanks boss. I’ll be back down in five.”

“Nah, you’ve got the night off. Call for room service, just go easy on the booze tonight.” Husk didn’t leave right away; he saw Angel retreating back into the cage of his own arms. The catlike demon sighed and strode through the room to throw the doors to the balcony open. “C’mere.”

Angel walked up hesitantly and placed his ringed hand in Husk’s outstretched one. Husk pulled him out into the night air. He smoothly wrapped an arm around Angel’s waist and lifted the lanky demon’s legs up with the other. Angel reflexively wrapped a set of arms around the other man’s shoulders. “Damn Whiskers, you’re stronger than you look!”

Husk gave a huff. He spread his wings and flapped into the sky. “Oh shit!” Angel yelled, now with four arms clinging to Husk.

“I gotcha babe.” He got enough altitude that they could see every part of the Pentagram with ease. “How’s this for a high?” he joked, smirking at Angel.

“Fuck…it’s a helluva view.” Angel scanned the city. His eyes locked onto Valentino’s porn studio. A tiny fuschia line was just pulling up to the street in front of it.

Husk realized where Angel was looking and shifted to block the Red Light District from view. “Nah, we’ve got better things to look at. There’s a lot more in Hell than that shitbag.”

The train of Angel’s gown fluttered in the air. The cool breeze and the sparkling city below, sounds muffled by distance, helped calm him. As the tension started to ease in his frame, Husk spoke.

“Things change quick here, especially between Overlords. You know that, with how fast ‘Tino lost you. So I ain’t gonna make promises I can’t keep. But for now, you’re mine Angel Dust, and no one fucks with what’s mine.” His gold irises gleamed as his smile turned harsh. “I don’t plan on wagering you, ever. Clear?”

Something cracked in Angel, a chip in the despair. “As crystal baby.” He sighed. “Thanks…Husk.”

A few more minutes and then Husk lowered them back to the balcony. “I need to head back down. Call room service, get some rest.” He took Angel’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back. “Let me know how you’re feeling tomorrow.”

Angel ordered food, changing out of gown and jewelry for an oversized shirt while it was arriving. He’d ordered a bunch of finger foods, easy to eat as he lounged. But he was surprised to find his favorite cocktail added to the cart. A card written in Husk’s handwriting leaned against the stem, “Just one tonight.” He snorted before taking a sip. He was starting to like this kind of pampering.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #hazbin au #fanfiction #angel dust #overlord husk #hazbin valentino

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

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So first just finished Fourth Wing and I would just like to say the ending was disgusting wonderful. That’s all imma say about it. And second, could you do one with Xaden and reader where they just go for a night time flight?

I know you did the picnic but a nightly flight of them and their dragons having fun and relaxing sounds wonderful after the headache this book has given me.

Night Flight

Xaden x reader

A/n: I loved the cliffhanger and I can’t wait for book 2 in November! Enjoy this fluffy fic anon I hope it helps ur headache 😭 in this fic Tairn chose reader so reader and Xaden have that mind to mind connection

Warnings: none

After you finished dinner you excused yourself from the table. Liam rose with you but you shook your head, “Take the night off buddy.” He sat back down, hands raised in front of him. You walk past the leadership table and lock eyes with Xaden. He gives you a slight tilt of his head and you wink at him.

About forty minutes later with your cloak clasped around you, you waited in the shadows by the secret entrance to the flight field. You feel shadows twine around your legs and arms. Xaden steps out of the darkness, a smirk dancing on his full lips.

He pulls you by your waist for a kiss. Leaning his forehead on yours he whispers, “I'm happy you wanted to come with me tonight.”

“Me too.” Xaden’s hand slides to yours as he leads you down the passage.

Exiting onto the field you spot Tairn and Sgaeyl nuzzling each other. It always shocked you to see the two dragons in love. You’d find it sweet if they weren’t terrifying.

“I can hear you, girl.” Tairn said in your head. “I know that’s why I thought it.” You shot back.

You laughed at Tairn and he let out an annoyed huff. Xaden chuckles, “Aww you think they’re cute.” Blush covers the apples of your cheeks. You playfully push at his chest. “Shut up,” you laugh.

Xaden gives you a playful look. “Oh, you’ve done it now.” Your eyes widen and you try to run to Tairn but Xaden catches you first. Letting out a playful screech, he throws you over his shoulder and spins.

Xaden brings you to face him, clutching you to his chest, your feet hovering above the ground. “Come on man, let me go.” He shakes his head. “Nope. Not until you say sorry.” You let your head fall back. “Fine. I’m…not sorry.” He feigns shock. “Wow. I can’t believe this. My girlfriend hurt me and she won’t apologize.”

You scoff at the accusation. “Oh please. Like I could break through this muscle.” Prodding at his chest to prove your point. Xaden puts you down. You walk over to your dragons and mount, ready for your late night flying date.

A few months into your relationship Xaden was still a little reserved. You understood and trusted him. But one night you were particularly pushy and demanded to know where he had been.

Xaden had been disappearing a few nights a week, by himself, which freaked you out. You had went to Liam with your concerns and he told you Xaden was fine. After seeing how worried you were Xaden finally told you his secret.

It wasn't a big deal, he just liked to go night flying alone sometimes. After you both talked about it you felt relieved that he wasn't doing something stupid or dangerous.

After that, he started to open up more about things he liked to do or just random facts about him. He wanted to share things with you. You fell more in love with him. It meant he trusted you as you trusted him. And you would never betray that trust.

Flying across the lake you felt Xaden tapping on your mind. “Wanna do something fun?” You look at him across Tairn’s wings and nod.

He shoots you a wicked grin as Sgaeyl shoots upward. Tairn is quick to follow. They climb and climb at breakneck speed, heading straight through the clouds blocking out the stars.

You let out an uncontrolled laugh, gripping onto Tairn for dear life. As you start to cut through the clouds you lose sight of Xaden. You tuck your head in, attempting to lay flat to Tairn.

You feel him in your mind still, “It’s ok, I’m right ahead of you.” “I know.” You send him a smile, “I love you Xaden.” “I love you too y/n.”

Feeling the cool mist of the clouds was refreshing. You took in the moment and felt lucky to be able to touch the sky with the man you love flying next to you.

Breaking through the clouds Tairn evens out as he and Sgaeyl circle each other. Looking up, your breath catches at the beauty of the night sky. The stars glitter and the full moon is bright. Smiling, you look over to Xaden.

He's watching you take in the view. His lips are set in a genuine loving smile. He's grateful to be here with you. To share parts of himself with you.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

#fourth wing #acotar fanfiction #fourth wing fanfic #xaden fourth wing x reader #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #xaden x reader #xaden fourth wing #Xaden riorson fluff #Xaden fluff

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hellishdeer · 3 months

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Live reactions and ramblings about the the first four episodes of Hazbin Hotel

Warnings: SPOILERS!!! Incoherent, unfiltered thoughts, I wrote them as I was watching. Most of them are in chronological order, but not all

EPISODE 1:

The origin story of Hell is a cool take on the original tale of Adam and Eve and the animation style is very pretty too (also biblically accurate angels 👀)

Adam is just the ultimate douche, fucking great

NIFTY ZONING OUT WHILE SHE IS BEING FILMED, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT-

Really interesting and fun that Alastor straight up REFUSES to be captured in digital media, distorting it and facing the other way during the commercial

EPISODE 2:

SIR PENTIOUS!!!!

Loved whenever Vox got real close to the screen, it looked like your TV was his face, adored that shit 👌Also the way his voice distorted whenever he was pissed

Alastor went missing around the same time as Lilith... I'm sure that is not going to be at all plot relevant..

STAYED GONE. Vox's part sung/spoken like a TV news anchor, Alastor breaking the fourth wall, the varieties of error screens Vox displayed, and THE BLACKOUT. THAT PART GAVE ME SERIOUS CHILLS Love you Alastor but you're scaring me a little

SIR PENTIOUS PLAYING ALONG WITH CHARLIE AND ACTUALLY ENJOYING HIMSELF AT THE HOTEL I'M SOBBING

"You like me. You actually like me!" 😭❤️

The voice messages Valentino sent were fucking vile, fuck him. I'm now rooting for Angel Dust more than ever before..

Sir Pentious finally has canon hypnosis powers!!

Vox, you're cool and all BUT YOU JUST TOLD SIR PENTIOUS TO KILL HIMSELF WHAT THE FUCK NEVER GO NEAR HIM EVER AGAIN OR I SWEAR-

"Just make it quick, I guess. Not that I deserve it.." VIOLENTLY ILL.

SORRY IS WHERE IT STARTS. Just.. *sobs* Charlie is so fucking sweet, I can't wait for their friendship to grow

EPISODE 3:

"Hello purple female!" PLEASE 💀

The scene where Alastor was eating is a reference o to one Viv's older speedpaints (more specifically this one)

"Are those your ears or your hair? I can't tell!" Egg Bois asking the real questions here-

ZESTIEL. He looks so cool and I love the way he speaks, hopefully were going to see more of him!

"Oh, look! There's Frank!" "...We have names?" PFFFTT-

"If I can't help you, what's the point of me?" 😭😭😭

CARMILLA'S SINGING VOICE BLEW ME AWAY HOLY SHIT-

Vaggie's singing voice being hilariously different to her speaking one

Carmilla implying in her song that she killed the angel to protect her daughters I-😭 That, and she doesn't want the rest of hell to start a war they can't win, she is a protector. She's definitely one of my new favorites.

As Zestiel said, Alastor is unpredictable and his motivations are hard to read, I love how he is written in a way you geniunely can't guess his real motivations you go you sinister deer fellow

SIR PENTIOUS AND HIS MATCHING PYJAMAS WITH THE EGG BOIS AND ALL OF THE SNUGGLING TOGETHER IN HIS COZY ROUND BED- *starts to froth at the mouth*

EPISODE 4:

Nifty just laying there kicking her feet while watching p*rn 😭

SIR PENTIOUS BLUSHING AND COVERING HIS FACE WITH HIS HOOD PLEASE-

Is Pentious seriously so lonely that he watches people sleep...stop making me sad

Angel Dust having the most fire wardrobe 💅

TRAVIS IS THE FUCKING DIRECTOR-

Angel Dust's face when he heard Valentino speaking :(

VALENTINO GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF CHARLIE RIGHT NOW.

VALENTINO'S COAT IS ACTUALLY HIS WINGS?!?! That's a very cool design actually

THE DRESSING ROOM IS FUCKING DISGUSTING, IT'S FINE IF YOU LIKE VALENTINO AS A VILLIAN, BUT IF YOU ACTUALLY STAN HIM AFTER THIS I SWEAR-

The contract being signed as "Anthony" :(((

"I'll get her to leave, just don't hurt her." *cries*

Charlie being ready kick Valentinos ass the SECOND she saw Angel's state LET'S GOOOO

Poison is just.. So beautifully animated, but so very disturbing at the same time.. FUCK. VALENTINO.

THE DOTS UNDER ANGEL'S EYES WERE JUST MORE EYES THIS ENTIRE TIME?!? I'm such a dumbass

Throwing cards as a weapon :O

HUSK USED TO BE AN OVERLORD EXCUSE ME?!?!

"If I get broken enough.. I won't be his favorite toy anymore.. And he'll let me go.." CRYING SOBBING THROWING UP

You're a Loser Baby is fucking pretty and adorable! I finally I see the appeal in Huskerdust 🥹❤️

EXPLODING DICE WOOO!

Just now realized Alastor didn't show up once during this episode.. Wonder what he getting up to 🤔

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel spoilers #alastor #angel dust #sir pentious #charlie morningstar #vaggie #nifty #husk #hazbin hotel vox #valentino #carmilla carmine #reaction

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starfall-spirit · 9 months

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Read on Ao3

Summary: With new love and broken trust to navigate, the tension between Xaden and Violet is at an all-time high after the battle beyond the Athebyne outpost. Two months after swearing Xaden off romantically, Violet finds he has her pinned to the mat again. And he has no intention of showing mercy.

AN: As promised, here's my first Fourth Wing fic.

CW: Smut, language

Violet grunted as her back met the gym mat for the third time in thirty minutes. "Damn." She wasn't so sure everything that she just heard pop was actually supposed to pop. "You know, I get thrown around enough during my daily training as it is. I don't need you beating me to a pulp after hours."

"Pull yourself together, Violence. If I realized just how sloppy you had gotten I never would have neglected this part of your training."

Negligence may not be the most accurate description of their current problem. The truth was that she had been brilliantly evading him since she had started picking up the tells her own dragon gave when he sensed his mate and her rider were near. Violet had seen Xaden face-to-face only a handful of times since his graduation and this was the first time in the two months since the wyvern attack she had let him close enough to spar. She thought it had been long enough—that her mind was set enough on the logical path that her leniency tonight wouldn't do any harm. She desperately needed to get her brain and her body on the same page when it came to Xaden Riorson. Because Violet Sorrengail never made the same mistake twice. She was not ending tonight by dragging Xaden to her private room.

And she was definitely not fucking him on the gym floor. Or any floor for that matter.

Eyeing her scattered daggers—the short blades he'd personally commissioned for her and had her take straight off his vest when he was still her supposed enemy—she shoved at his chest for the third time that night with every intention of starting again. He didn't budge. "Tell me what to do, Violet," he groaned. "You've been treating me like a damn plague every time I come back to the college with Sgaeyl."

"You said you'd give me the space I need, Xaden. Don't tell me you're already back to lying to me."

"I never—" He growled, his arms buckling on either side of her hips. "Fuck."

The steady tension of the night began to build far too rapidly for her comfort as need coiled within her. She tried to Ground herself. Tried to reach that door that would seal off the waves of Tairn's shameless arousal. But with Xaden practically trembling between her thighs she knew the night wouldn't be easy on either of them. If they tried to resist that urge rippling down the bond. They needed to separate now, or what Xaden was asking for she'd be all too willing to hand over. She hadn't tested his vow in those two months because she was terrified he would make a fool of her. But the logical part of her recognized he wouldn't hurt her again. It was a fear of her wounded heart. Hadn't he been the one to tell her that fear would only get her killed faster?

Her resistance shattered and she pressed a hand to his bare chest. "Xa—"

"Thank the gods." His mouth claimed hers in a brutal kiss as his shadows skittered out to clear the last of the unsheathed daggers off of the mat as he gripped her wrists, pinning them together under one hand and effectively immobilizing her upper body. "Thank the fucking gods and dragons too selfish to shield."

"You're welcome, Silver One." She stiffened, thinking back to how long it had been since she felt Tairn so prominently. "I can not fully protect you and see to my mate if you are at odds with her human."

This was a fucking setup. One Xaden was equally aware of if his smirk was anything to go by. "Meddlesome mother hens."

"Indeed they are." He hunched over her once again, his smirk somehow broadening as he used his free hand to lift the hem of her shirt, guiding it up to her bust as he trailed the path of his hand with those sinful lips. "So fucking beautiful," he praised her. Violet whined, giving a half-hearted attempt to free her wrists before he tightened his grip. "Just let me give you this, Violet. While we still have the chance." Before this war came to such a height where they'd never catch a moment alone. She nodded, aching for the familiar heat of his mouth on her skin. It had been a hard two months. Dipping his head, he trailed his lips from the top of her neck down to her collarbone. His hips shifted to pin hers as she tried to lift them to grind against him. It was fucking torture, feeling his hard body against hers and being able to do absolutely nothing about it. "Patience, Violet."

She glared at him, reading the slight taunt beneath his own need. He released her hands to peel her out of her top, chuckling when her free hands moved straight to his hair, dragging his mouth back to hers as he moved on to the buttons on her pants.

She followed that mental stream of night that she hadn't touched in months, likely broadcasting every emotion running through her at the moment. "I'm going to take my sweet time with you tonight, Violence. I'm gonna have you begging for me by the end of it all."

Fuck. "I don't beg," she retorted.

He pulled away from the kiss, giving her a wolfish grin as he peeled her pants down her legs to expose her damp panties. "We'll see about that." With that final piece of clothing gone, his attention returned to keeping her from gaining an edge, his shadows gathering to pin her arms again, leaving both of his hands free to touch her. She didn't bother fighting them. "Good girl."

She bit her lip, trying not to show what those two little words did to her. She honestly wasn't ready to identify it. The next time their eyes met she knew it was pointless. He could always read her too well. Still, he spared her the embarrassment of saying anything about it, instead reaching between them to stroke his thumb over her clit, two fingers dipping between her legs. "Fucking soaked," he growled out loud, shifting back until his head was between her thighs, those soft lips trailing up each leg as he positioned them over his shoulders. He was going to ruin her with nothing more than a stroke of his tongue. How the hell was she supposed to think of anything but this the next time she was training with another Rider on the mats.

Two fingers curled inside her and she gasped, the muscles in her legs tight enough to snap as Xaden hit that spot he knew made her see stars. And as that smirking mouth closed over her clit... despite what little time they had before everything fell apart, Xaden hadn't forgotten a single thing about how to please her. "Xaden, more."

He kept his pace, his mouth still pressed flush against her as he returned his attention to the mental bond. "Are you asking or telling me? Because you're in no position to be giving orders, Violence." He was moving unbearably slowly now, maintaining her need for him, but failing to bring her closer to orgasm. The bastard planned to edge her.

"This is my punishment?" she panted out. "This is what I get for avoiding you? Pinned down and edged until you get bored of the game?"

He raised his head to look at her, his gaze drowsy with his own lust as he met her eyes. "Violence, don't you know? This is a game I'll never grow bored of. Seeing you squirm is far too delightful and we both know you can't hold out for long."

He returned to his task, each stroke clearly at his leisure. "Now be my good girl and ask nicely for what you want."

There was the line in the sand. Xaden Riorson was a patient man, more than willing to take his sweet time with her tonight. He delighted in the game he created and didn't find any difficulty in a slow indulgence. She was the only one suffering tonight.

Unless she folded.

Begged.

She twisted her wrists against his shadows, jolting the next time he brought her to the edge of release. "Xaden, please."

He broke away and she whimpered. "Please what?"

"Please let me come."

Satisfaction rippled down the bond between them and her body went white-hot with mounting pleasure. She clenched her jaw to keep from screaming as she finally fell over the edge, rolling her hips as best she could with her legs still slung over Xaden's broad shoulders. "So. Fucking. Beautiful," he murmured, silently ordering the shadows holding her to release. She could taste herself on him as he swept her into another feverish kiss, his fingers unwinding her braid and fisting in the silver and black of her hair. "I'll never get enough of you, Violet." He pulled away just long enough to ease out of his own leathers before seeking her mouth again. Knowing he'd be off balance for a few seconds, she took advantage of the time she had to get him on his back. "Vi—" Her name faded to a soft curse as she stroked the hard length of him. "Dirty tricks, Violence."

"Well-earned on your part, I'd say. You had your fun," she purred, sinking down on his cock inch by inch. Gods, she had missed that feeling. "Now it's my turn."

One hand anchoring at her right hip, he raised his other to her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers. "You want to ride me, sweetheart? Go right ahead. One way or another I still get to watch as you shatter on my cock." The words sent a shudder through her and he grinned as her nails bit into his shoulders. His hand fell away from her breast, his fingers rethreading in her hair and tugging just enough to sting her scalp. "Go on, baby. Ride me."

~~~~~

His few memories of watching Violet come for him didn't do the actual sight of it justice. No memory could hold the exact expression on her face as she reached the edge of her climax or the little sounds that left her when she realized she needed help getting there. No memory could quite hold the arch of her body or the scent of her skin as she pressed up against him. And no memory could quite hold this moment. His Violet, half-asleep on his chest as they both came down from the rush of what they'd done.

"I'm never going to be able to go to my hand-to-hand training again without thinking of this. You're a terrible influence, Xaden Riorson."

He chuckled. "I suppose a gentleman would have taken you to a bed first. But I never claimed to be such a thing. At least this way you'll remember who you belong to when your squadmates start ogling you during training."

"I'm not an object," she growled, sounding about as violent as a kitten as exhaustion continued to weigh on her.

"No. But you're still mine. Just as I'm yours, whenever you're ready to claim me again."

The fog of lust that triggered this all was behind them. And in its place was an understanding. He had hurt her, but he would never make that mistake twice. This could be the time they start fresh, but only if she was ready. "Well, Violet?"

"I'm ready, Xaden."

#fanfiction #fourth wing #violet and xaden #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #xiolet #this is only a minor obsession nothing to be concerned about #who am i kidding xaden is daddy

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siriannatan · 1 year

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“You’ve worn those clothes for the last week, you’ve got to change.” “You just want to see me naked, don’t you?” - Grisuma

I felt this urge to write some Grisuma so I did

As with the whole series, the prompt was found over on deity-prompts

AO3

Four seasons. Grian's been part of Hermitcraft for four whole seasons. And has never seen Xisuma's face. He's heard multiple hermits - Doc, Ren, Jevin, even Scar and Mumbo call their admin handsome but could never confirm it for himself. No amount of bugging, pestering and general mischief got X out of his dumb helmet. The only time, it'd seem, he changed was between seasons or bigger updates. Never when Grian was borderline stalking him out of boredom.

But, finally, in his fourth season, Grian came up with an excellent idea. He just needed to catch X asleep, which wasn't easy but Grian could be patient if he wanted to and after a whole week managed to catch X snoozing in his storage area and... Drew a funny face on his visor with a permanent marker. And barely managed to escape before X woke up and just went about his day as if there was nothing on his visor... Did he not use it to see?

Anyway, Grian followed the admin the whole day and no one. Absolutely no one pointed out the winking cat face on X's visor. No one. Doc did chuckle a bit but said nothing. Keralis was Keralis so it was unclear if his giggling was that or the drawing. Cleo just straight-out ignored it and didn't react at all.

By the evening time Grian was fed up and just marched into X's base. “You’ve worn those clothes for the last week, you’ve got to change. Staying in this thing all the time can't be good for you," he announced, marching in with all the confidence and annoyance he had in him.

X tilted his head and... reached up to his helmet as Grian tapped his foot on the ground. "You just want to see me naked, don’t you?" X chuckled and pulled his helmet off.

To say Grian was stunned would be an understatement. Long white hair tied into a messy bun with quite a bit of it just hanging around X's face. Dark, fluffy-feathery long and pointy ears twitched as X inspected his helmet's visor. But Grian was not really paying attention to that. What got him frozen were all the scars on X's face. He wanted to run his fingers along the dark marks he easily recognised as left by his own kind... Not that he was proud of being one or ever said anything. But that also helped him recognise what X was under his suit. A voidwalker. He thought they were gone long before the EVO disaster yet here was X...

"Grian? What happened to my visor?" X asked, levelling Grian with a stern glare of dark purple eyes.

"No idea," Grian lied with a wide grin. "But it looks cute... I should go..." he added and was about to leave before X grabbed his arm. "X?"

"It's late, I'm not letting you fly all the way to your boulder after all the trouble you went through to get my helmet off," X's voice was more and more amused. And made Grian want to curl up into a ball and hide in his wings.

"You knew?" he whined as X pulled him along to wherever his bed was hiding.

"All along, and I agree, the drawing is cute," X admitted with a grin that had Grian blushing.

Everyone was right, Xisuma was darn handsome under his helmet and maybe it was good he kept it on during their little exchange with Empires guys. And suspiciously cuddly in his sleep and damn hard to get away from.

#my stuff #my stories #fanfic #fanfiction #hermitcraft #hermitshipping #grisuma #grian #xisumavoid

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newbie-whovian · 2 years

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Hey hey it’s me again 😅👉🏼👈🏼

I’ve always loved the concept of current companion meeting past regenerations of the Doctor. So I was wondering if you’d like to play around with that?? (I do prefer a 12 x reader, but honestly do whatever you want, go ham bestie!)

(Hell yeah 👌 lovely to hear from you again! 😁)

Echoes - The Twelfth Doctor x Reader, Featuring The Fourth and Eighth Doctors

Out of everything you knew about the Doctor, the fact that he'd been other people in the past was probably the hardest to grasp. Regeneration had always been a little hard to wrap your head around, and every time he explained it, it somehow got harder to comprehend.

You looked at the Doctor over the console and exchanged a smile when he met your gaze, bracing yourself as the TARDIS landed with a jolt. "Go ahead," he said, checking something on one of the monitors. "I'll be right out." You smirked to yourself as he snapped his fingers to open the door and you stepped outside. "Right out" could mean anywhere from five minutes to three hours, although more often than not, it erred towards the latter.

The TARDIS had landed on an enormous cliffside, looking out over unfathomably tall trees that stretched past the mountains and towards the sky. The branches of these trees were nearly as wide as small buildings, and formed bridges from the various cliffs to the enormous forest ahead. Branches met and formed a web that tangled the trees together, and the winged inhabitants walked along them as if the whole thing were a massive outdoor mall.

You took in the sights with a wide smile, stepping towards the edge of the cliff and the beginning of one of the branches. It looked sturdy enough, but you held your breath slightly as you stepped over to the branch, continuing towards the stalls and tents set up along the walkways. Vendors shouted and held out their wares, showing you jewelry and fabric and various weapons and tools, and you lamented that you should have asked for some pocket money.

You didn't get far into the market, however, when a man in an olive velvet coat and gray slacks stopped in his tracks and made a beeline straight to you.

"Excuse me, but I seem to have misplaced a large blue box, could you help me?" the stranger said, giving you a grin. You had begun to walk away but you paused, saying slowly, “This blue box wouldn’t happen to be called a TARDIS, would it…?”

His face lit up and he said enthusiastically, “Yes!” His smile didn’t dim a single notch as he asked in a voice full of wonder, “How did you know that?”

You gave him a smile and said, “I’ve been around. Where have you already looked?”

A question flashed behind his eyes before he dismissed it with a shake of his head, sending his wavy hair flying around his face. He walked with an undeniable energy, like he was a kid exploring a zoo, and he said as you followed him, “I don’t believe I’ve introduced myself, I’m the Doctor, and you are?”

You stopped in your tracks. He halted after a moment when he realized you weren’t following, turning back with a curious frown and saying, “Have I offended you? You don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head with a small laugh, saying, “No, no no, you haven’t offended me, it’s just… I didn’t think it was possible for me to be here.” You met his gaze, recognizing some small piece of your Doctor in this stranger’s eyes and allowing yourself a small smile. You offered your name and thought for a second, saying, “We should find your TARDIS.”

He examined your face with an odd half smile dancing around his face before continuing along the branch, a bounce in his step. “Why shouldn’t you be here?” he asked in that strange tone your Doctor always donned whenever he was asking a question he already had an answer for.

“Well, I thought you weren’t supposed to be able to cross your own timeline, was all,” you said, and you didn’t think his smile could get any wider.

“So you travel with me? Or some future version of me, anyway? Or past, it’s entirely possible, this body’s memory isn’t the most reliable,” he rattled off, and you answered him with a finger pressed over your lips.

“Spoilers,” you muttered with a grin. His eyes sparkled with mischief.

As it turns out, he’d left his TARDIS tucked in between two similarly colored tents, and when you pointed it out, his reaction was as if it were Christmas morning. He dashed towards it with a small wave, unlocking it with an oddly shaped pendant around his neck. He was close to disappearing inside before he turned back to face you, beckoning you closer.

You made your way through the stalls and the bustling crowd, and once you were close enough to hear, he said, “I can’t wait to meet you!” You tugged him in for a hug that he returned with a laugh, lifting you off of your feet for a moment before letting you go.

He stepped inside and the doors shut behind him, and you stepped back with a wide smile as his TARDIS began to dematerialize.

You found your Doctor wandering through the market with a concerned look on his face. He gave you a smirk and said, “Of course, the one time I actually mean ‘right out,’ you wander off to Rassilon knows where.” You apologized with a small smile, and he returned it reluctantly. “Should I even bother asking where you ran off to?” he said, heading towards one of the larger groups of tents.

You looped your arm through his elbow and shook your head, resting your head on his shoulder as he let out a sigh.

You’d been put on guard duty, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. You stood across the street from some sort of apothecary, tasked with letting the Doctor know about everyone who came and went. So far, there’d been no one, and it had been almost an hour now. You let out an exasperated groan, crossing your arms and slumping against the wall.

All of the sudden, a tall man wearing an outrageous scarf tore around the corner onto the street, looking around with wide eyes. He caught sight of you, not exactly hard to do, seeing as you two were the only people around, and jogged across the street with that ridiculous scarf coming dangerously close to tripping him.

Before you could get a word in, he said, “Have you seen a young lady about this high?” holding a hand up to his shoulder. You frowned and answered, “No, you’re the first person I’ve seen for about an hour.”

He almost cursed under his breath, burying his hands in his pockets and pulling out a small white paper bag. That bug-eyed gaze stayed locked on the cobblestone street as he offered you the bag, muttering, “Would you like a jelly baby?” You looked into the bag with a puzzled expression, grabbing one of the multi-colored candies and popping it in your mouth. He ate three before the bag disappeared back into his pocket.

“You’re the only other person I’ve seen in this entire town,” he said with something resembling abject fascination in his voice, “The only one.”

“Why do you think that is?” you asked, “I mean, people live here, right?” You looked down at the sidewalk and kicked a pebble into the street. He watched it bounce into a storm drain and said, “That’s not necessarily true, towns can be empty for a number of reasons, none of which are very appetizing at the moment since we both have people we’re waiting for. Although I assume yours at least gave you a bit of an errand before they ran off without a word.”

You frowned and looked at him quickly, saying, “And how do you know that?”

“Why else would we be waiting outside a closed apothecary?” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You crossed your arms and said, “Well yes, the Doctor told me to wait outside this dump and he-”

“The Doctor?” the stranger interrupted, his face lighting up with a smile with entirely too many teeth. “Now that does make things more interesting. You see, I’m the Doctor, and if you’re telling the truth, then there’s another me running around, am I correct?”

You paused before narrowing your eyes at him, and he said, “I suppose you’ll want proof?”

You pause again before saying slowly, “Honestly, I don’t think I know a single other person who could ever be anyone close to you,” giving him a smirk. “And besides, that scarf…”

He gave you an indignant look before flipping the scarf over one shoulder defiantly, saying, “Let’s go, we've got to find Sarah."

"And you!"

"Yes yes, and me I suppose."

#doctor who #doctor who fic #classic who #twelfth doctor #twelfth doctor x reader #12th doctor #12th doctor x reader #eighth doctor #8th doctor #fourth doctor #4th doctor

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seaweedroll · 2 years

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Her dearest friend. Part 3.

A/N: Things are getting steamy in King Landing! Y/N is exploring her awakening sexuality and Aemond is there to show her things. I feel so bad for Aegon so I will have to make him to something really bad in the next chapter or else!

The next day the rain came and with the shift of the weather, the mood in the Red Keep shifted. Joy and excitement were replaced by strange uneasiness, anticipation hung heavy in the air.

Y/N caught a cold after her night swim. She did not leave her room for three days and refused to see anyone even her father. People at court worried what had happened to the little flower.

Ayeden Stark knew that his daughter was struck by melancholy after their conversation. He did not expect such reaction to his words and that worried him even more. What if she realised that she too has feelings for the Targaryen boys? What if Aemond demands her hand? She will become green ally when the Starks swore to Princess Rhaenyra. She would betray her family and put herself in a terrible danger. If she married Tyland Lannister, she would be sent to Casterly Rock, an impenetrable fortress where she would be guarded by the finest soldiers. High Garden was an option too. Yes, High Garden. He must send a raven at once.

Aegon sank back into his cups and went galivanting to the most deprived and perverted parts of King’s Landing. Perhaps if he drank enough, he would be able to forget seeing Y/N kissing his brother, his hands on her almost naked body, him following her back to the castle. Aegon wanted to ask her, get on his knees, and beg to tell him that that kiss meant nothing, and he was the one for her not his baby brother. But she was hiding in her room, torturing him by depriving him of seeing her, talking to her so he settled for fucking whores that resembled her.

Aemond was losing sleep. He did not expect her to reciprocate his feeling so quickly; he was ready for months of courting, of making her fall in love with him to the point the thought of them being apart physically hurt. But she said she needed him, her words like music to her and so he would do everything to get her.

The prince knew Y/N father was planning to betroth her to the pompous Lannister lord so he had to act fast.

‘Mother, can I speak with you?’ silver haired prince entered Queen’s chambers.

‘What is it, Aemond?’ she gave him a small smile.

‘I came to ask for you support. I intend to ask for lady Y/N’s hand’ his words were firm.

‘She is a lovely lady’ Alicent approached her son. ‘I know you two are good friends’ she gave him a knowing smile, ‘but I would ask you to wait for a little longer. We need Lord Stark’s full attention to the state matters. I will make sure Lord Lannister keeps his distance’ she spoke before Aemond could argue. ‘You have my word, my dear son’.

The conversation with his mother gave him hope. As much as he wanted to demand Y/N to be married to him straight away, Aemond understood how difficult the political climate was at the moment. He would never deliberately do anything to put his family at risk or make a move that could cause war. Many thought Aemond would be a better king than Aegon and that was the truth.

On the fourth day, Y/N finally left her chambers and went for a wander around the castle, rediscovering nooks, and crannies she explored as a child. She was calmer now; her dreams were less vivid than three days ago. The dreams that made her folds glister, her hands explore her body only to wake up moaning, screaming Aemond’s name. In her dreams he would rip off her dress take her on his desk, against the wall in the dark hallways, on the throne where everyone watched. Surely, it was due to her fever. Proper ladies could never dream of such things otherwise.

As she approached west wing, she heard loud voices arguing and a hard slap of hand against the skin.

‘You are no son of mine’ Alicent’s word were harsh as she turned on her heel and left Aegon chambers, not noticing Y/N hiding behind the pillar. In the chamber she heard Aegon weep, so she rushed towards him without a second thought.

Under the silk covers, a white hair prince sobbed, his beautiful features twisted by deep pain, that slowly ate his soul away. There was no hope for him, no mercy of the Seven. He wished to die right then and there until he felt a feather like touch brushing off unruly curls off his face. Aegon looked up and saw Y/N, her eyes soft with worry.

‘Y/N? What are you doing here?’ he blinked the tears away.

‘I heard screaming…’ she wouldn’t dare to look at him. ‘Aegon, I heard what your mother said. She didn’t mean it. We all say things we don’t mean when we get angry’ she stroked his hair trying to convince him.

‘But she did’ he laughed bitterly, sitting up. ‘She wishes for Aemond to be the king. He is a better warrior; a better scholar - he has read every book in the library. That little fucker is trying to take away you too’ he spat his distaste for his younger brother. ‘Everyone in my family hates me’.

‘They don’t hate you, Aegon. But you make it hard to like you when you only show them your dark side. If they knew the Aegon I know…’

‘They would still hate me’ he got up, his naked frame making Y/N blush and cover her eyes.

‘I must go’ she tried to leave whilst still covering her eyes.

‘I’m decent’ he laughed as Y/N bumped into his chest covered by a night shirt. Instantly, he pulled her into a loving embrace, savouring the moment. ‘You look adorable when you blush’ he cupped her face and made her look up.

‘I need to go. I cannot be seen in your chambers’ she tried to pull away, but his grip was strong.

‘I wish you would stay. Forever’ Aegon smiled and leaned in to kiss her. He poured all his love and devotion into it, a prayer to the goddess of love. Alas, she rejected him, her delicate hands shoving him off her and eyes shooting daggers at her.

‘You must never do that again. You’re married to Helaena. She doesn’t deserve such betrayal’ Y/N warned him and rushed out, cursing her for not listening to her father.

Aegon didn’t try to stop her. He touched his lips, trying to imprint the feeling of her lips forever. And then something snapped in him – a memory of one kiss won’t be enough. He needed more and more in other ways. Y/N like any Stark had high morals and unbreakable loyalty to people she cared. Good thing that Aegon didn’t have any morals and as a crown prince he was used to getting what he wanted. And he would stop at nothing until he did.

A week or so has passed before Y/N was fully immersed in court things again. She spent a lot of time with young ladies giggling and gossiping about eligible men they wanted to marry.

‘I want lord Baratheon to make me his lady wife. Oh, just imagine those strong arms holding you close’ lady Jeyne jokingly wrapped her arms around herself.

‘But he is a brute that can barely read?’ Y/N raised her eyebrow.

‘I don’t think we would be reading much anyway’ Jeyne winked at her.

‘I would want someone intelligent, like my father’ Y/N took a sip from her cup. ‘Someone who’s interested in books, philosophy. A scholar’ she pondered.

‘Prince Aemond is a scholar. Rumour has it he’s read every book in the library’ Leyane hinted casually looking to coax out a response from Y/N.

‘But he is hideous! That scar!’ Jeyne couldn’t hide her disgust.

‘That’s your prince you’re talking about’ Y/N warned.

‘But you wish he was your prince’ Leyane teased.

‘Why not?’ Y/N admitted casually, annoyed by their obvious attempts to get something they could gossip about later. ‘He’s tall and handsome. And could take any of your dream boys down. And he can read’ Y/N teased.

‘But does he know you to kiss you there? Make you feel so good’ Anysa, the quietest of the group finally spoke.

‘Anysa! You cannot lay with a man before you’re married!’

‘You said anything about laying’ the dark-haired lady smirked.

‘But how would y…’ Y/N was interrupted by a Septa summoning young ladies back to the castle. Y/N excused herself to wander around the gardens and think about those special kisses Anysa mentioned.

Lost in her thoughts, she bumped into someone’s firm chest. Of course, it was Aemond. He would always appear whenever she was having impure thoughts, perhaps, as a test from the gods.

‘What are you doing here?’ she blurted, slightly inebriated from the Dornish wine.

‘Oh I was just… reading’ he smirked. ‘And why are you wandering the gardens alone, my lady?’

‘Fresh air helps me think’.

‘Hmm’ he smirked again. ‘What were you thinking about, my beauty?’

‘About the special kisses…down there’ she whispered her dirty secret to her prince who was taken aback by her forwardness. Oh, she truly was a test from gods to see how far his impure thoughts would take him. ‘Can you tell me about them, my prince?’ she blushed.

‘I can show you, my lady’ he leaned in to kiss her. ‘Let’s find somewhere more private’ he took her hand, and she gladly followed him.

Tagging my hoes down bellow. Thank you for your support I hope your pillows are always cold and your dreams are always sexy <3 @moonmaiden1996 @lugiastark @sweetashoneyhoney @discowizard88 @simpsrus00 @m00n5t0n3 @rainy-day-lady @linkpk88 @dangerousbluebirdpoetry @verycollectivecreator @rosaryos @hhjhbhh

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic

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shipmistress9 · 9 months

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"I don't want to think."

Fandom: Fourth Wing -- The Empyrean

Pairing: Xaden/Violet

Rating: Explicit

Summary: In the days after the events of Fourth Wing, Xaden suffers an intense kind of longing he never knew before as Violet refuses to talk to him. But as it seems, she can't stay away from him forever, either.

. o O o .

With slow steps, I make my way up the path that leads to my father’s townhouse. My house. I still hate that thought…

My feet are heavy, my thoughts sluggish. It’s been a rough day, but then, every day has been rough since we fought the Venin at Athebyne and arrived here in Aretia six days ago. I never want to sit by Violet’s sickbed and pray for her survival again, but… I can’t say things got that much better since then.

There’s an ache in my chest, a tightness that keeps me from breathing properly. A tingling in my limbs, slightly painful, that makes me clumsy. A dark cloud in my head that makes thinking and planning and just downright functioning all but impossible. When Bodhi asked me whether I was feeling alright and told me to go and see the healers, I half-heartedly appeased him and said I would, but… I know they can’t help me. Because I know this feeling.

I felt it once before, but even though it was only a second-hand experiance channeled from Sgaeyl that time, it was already enough to convince me to leave Basgiath and fly straight to Monserrat without regards to my orders.

This now is so much worse.

“I’m sure she’ll come around.” Sgaeyl’s voice in my head is unusually gentle. She knows my suffering, after all.

I manage the ghost of a smile. “If only I could belive that.”

“Just give her space.” This time, it’s Tairn. “She needs time to sort out her feelings.”

I nod, knowing the dragons will feel the gesture. But I don’t really share their optimism. Violet hasn’t talked to me since that first time right after she woke up, and I…

I’m losing my fucking mind!

Read more on AO3

#xadenviolet #riorgail #viden #xaden riorson #violet sorrengail #fanfiction #not for children #fourth wing #the empyrean #rebecca yarros

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r6s-imagines · 1 year

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jackal x reader >> quit your squirming

•••

MASTERLIST

warnings: swearing, light injuries, tiny bit of nsfw, makeout sesh

•••

summary: jackal needs more practice perfecting his appearance, and the organization pilot happy to provide assistance.

notes: LOL I STARTED WRITING AGAIN VINE BOOM

•••

your knees wobbled from the lack of movement as you stood from the foam pad on the pavement floor, wiping your forehead and leaving a thin streak of grime onto your skin. rainbow should invest more into their vehicle care than their damn firing range, you thought. what good is aim if you can’t take it anywhere? bias aside, your error report was due to the director and you felt your joints cry out as you took slow steps back into the facility.

the universe had oddly comedic timing, making you climb up three flights of stairs to get to the drop-off destination. your eyes traced the fine stripe running alongside the wall, catching each door label and looking for the right one.

having been employed there for a large part of your working age, the door placements were almost muscle memory. marius’s mechanics office was fourth door down the south wing. you’d been there a million times, and when you swore you hit the fourth door, you knocked once and looped your arm around the knob, swinging open the door.

“marius, i have the--”

“carajo!”

a whisper-yell violated your ears and you stumbled, spilling the documents across the floor. the lone wolf jackal was sitting at his desk, chip up toward the ceiling and a large weathered hand concealing his neck. quite literally being the last man you hoped to meet in your condition, your temperature flared up and you could feel your underarms dampening.

the spaniard's hair was slicked back with curly flyaways, water dripping down his thick neck. his facial hair seemed to be taking over his face, though not too unkempt. you always considered him a perfect specimen, from his stone-cold perspective on extractions to the way he'd rest against a wall during a business celebration. "perfect," in your mind, did not mean flawless. he's slipped up, missed meetings, sometimes even forgotten his helmet for a mission. he was your hot, imaginary disaster of a boyfriend. in your daydreams, at least.

to those besides yourself, to call specialist jackal a disaster would be a practical understatement. sure, you’d catch his passing glance in the transport helicopter or watch his back muscles flex as he shrugged on his vest, but that doesn’t mean his interior was stable.

ramírez was a man past his prime, yet not weathered to the extent of being “too old.” your trusted co-pilot, jäger, called him your salt and pepper crush (for unclear reasons to you) to the point of you threatening to send the copter straight into the ocean.

"ramírez," your voice cracked. "sorry for the interruption. it seems i entered the wrong door. have a good day."

"i- no- wait-" he huffed, lifting his hand from his neck. he glanced in the mirror which caused his eyes to widen. ramírez reached out to you, quickly yet tenderly taking hold of your forearm. "could you... help. really quick. please."

it seemed like a cruel setup to an evil prank. you were too old for games, but you could name a few other operators that would seem up for such a thing. he continued.

"could you get me some gauze, l/n? a cotton ball. something. anything, por favor."

"are you okay?"

"yes. i cut my neck shaving," he looked up to your panicked expression. "just a little nick, don't worry."

you scurried toward one of the many first aid kits nailed to the wall. you flipped it open, fumbling for some sort of bandage. you paused, gripping it in your palm.

now's your chance, mein frund, you could hear jäger in your head. you nodded to yourself and reentered his room. jackal had not moved from his position but was now standing an inch from his mirror.

"gracias," he thanked, reaching out to grab the gauze from your hand. your quick thinking caused you to pull back.

"let me help," you said, with a light smirk. it had been some time since you last had the chance to flirt, with work and all clouding your mind since you got out of college. "i can see it better. sit."

he sat down, legs wide. you shuffled between his left leg, practically sitting on it. he readjusted in his seat. without even thinking twice, you held his chin and turned it upward.

"i can't reach it, it's like.. right under your jaw-" you mumbled mostly to yourself. you watched his jaw clenched and eyes glue to the ceiling and said nothing about it. it's working. "where is it?"

"here," jackal whispered back, placing his hand over yours and moving your hand to his pulse. you began to wipe at the blood, yet it never seemed to stop. fighting the frustration, you furrowed your brow and continued cleaning his neck, when suddenly, you heard a low groaning noise.

"quit your squirming," you instructed, holding him down with more authority. he continued to breathe through his teeth, and you felt his body heat radiating despite the gap. you began to get worried.

"is this okay?" you asked, referring to the cut. his breathing became heavier and body stiffer.

"yes... hhh—stay like that."

you raised an eyebrow, checking your surroundings. during your frustrations, you seemed to have taken a seat on his lap, with your hand applying gentle pressure on the sides of his neck. you soon realized he was not talking about the blood.

"me encanta esto." it was almost inaudible, said barely above a whisper, but you heard it.

for a moment, time stopped. you pulled your gauze-hand back, and truly seizing this glorious opportunity, placed it on his chest. it was just as amazing as you pictured it felt. was this actually happening right now? is he just really into this, or is he so uncomfortable he can't even speak?

he lowered his chin, meeting your eyes once before glancing down at your lips. you couldn't help but admire his long, dark eyelashes. his lips parted.

"can i kiss you...?" ramírez asked, fixated on your mouth. you nodded, slowly.

as if waiting a million years, his instincts took over as he grabbed the back of your neck and waist, pulling you in and smashing your lips together. you kissed back feverishly, holding the sides of his face and starting to slowly grind against his thigh. he tasted like minty rain and you loved every bit of it. after nearly a minute straight, you pulled away, taking a deep catching breath. you were so caught up against his lips you didn't notice the small trail of blood soaking into his shirt collar.

"ramírez—" you began, but he kissed you once more, just as deeply but as quick as a peck.

"thank you for the help," he replied in a low rumble. "i think i've got it from here."

you jumped up, remembering the report. you started to apologize before he grabbed your hand, squeezing it once.

"i'll be here. don't worry, i'll wait for you."

you nodded, closing his door behind you. it felt like high school prom! you cheered to yourself, throwing punches and kicking the air. who knew it was that easy?!

#r6s #rainbow six siege #r6s imagine #siege #r6s x reader #jackal siege #jackal imagine #jackal x reader #siege x reader #plague writes

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wordsafterhours · 8 months

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SAY Chapter 15 Snippet

AN: Trying to write but also struggling through a massive Fourth Wing hangover. I love good books but I also hate them. Here's an entire word document page of words :)

PS - @lunadorned, this part isn't scary.

Expectance hung in the air as Aelin waffled between telling Rowan no or sucking it up and playing. She hadn’t played in years. The piano was surely out of tune, the ivory keys covered in a telltale dust film. It was a talent, a habit long forgotten, buried beneath a barrage of painful memories.

The feel of smooth keys beneath her fingers could never be forgotten and suddenly her fingers were itching to glide across them. To artfully construct notes into beautiful chords and drown out the world until only music remained. Nothing else mattered when she sat at the bench. Maybe, just maybe, that was what she needed.

“Just one song.”

“Just one song,” he agreed. He sounded somewhat surprised, but Aelin wasn’t too sure since her back was still to him.

She brushed around the foyer table and pushed apart the dark wood pocket doors, revealing a beautiful brown piano, nestled in the far corner, between a window and fireplace. Without much thought, Aelin raised the lid, and then sat down, flipping back the cover, revealing keys ivory and gold keys.

The piano had been a gift from her parents one Yulemas, after she’d shown promise with the instrument. It had been redone just for her; the traditional black keys replaced with gold. After the finished stretching her hands, she played a few notes to ascertain how out of tune it was.

It wasn’t as out of tune as she thought and a small, pleased smile turned the corners of her mouth upwards. Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched Rowan’s large frame settle into one of the chairs that faced the piano. Her hands slightly trembled, the gravity of the moments to come setting her nervous system haywire.

Assuming proper position, Aelin moved to the edge of the bench with her back straight, arms out and relaxed in front of her. The opening chord notes tinkered through the air, harsher than they out to have been—her wrists were dropping. In the back of her mind, the severe chastisement of her former tutors reminded her that she wasn’t “grasping the keys”, thus her wrists were not lifting accordingly, the notes not soft.

Playing solely from memory, more than a few missteps occurred, but if Rowan noticed, he never gave it away. His green eyes were piercing, watching her with rapt attention. He could have been a stone statue if not for the occasional rise and fall of his shoulders.

Moving to the next piece, her fingers glided across the keys, caressing them in near reverence, like one would caress a lover after long being separated. Tendrils of blond hair slipped forward, partially obscuring her view of the man sitting opposite her. The wisp of privacy came at the perfect time, as the piece entered its crescendo.

Furiously, her fingers danced upon ivory and gold with precision, the familiar ache settling into her hands and shoulders. Uncertainty, grief, life—it ceased to exist as Aelin gave all of herself to the notes. It wasn’t until the last beautiful note filled the air with a resounding resonance that she let herself breathe.

It was so silent; Aelin could have heard a pin drop against the hardwood. Rowan was still sitting there, but said nothing, jaw resting against a balled fist, watching her with an undecipherable gaze. Had she not played as well as she thought? Was he trying to find the words to critique it? Critique her? Vulnerability and anxiety came on swift wings, like thieves in the night, whisking away her joy.

His opinion should not matter, especially under the circumstances now encompassing their friendship, but it did. Rowan’s opinion perhaps mattered more than anyone’s and she hated he had that power over her. It was power she gave him, but the heart was a fickle, stubborn thing, particularly the one housed beneath her own twelve pairs of ribs, and it did not adhere to the principles of logic.

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#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin au #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #rowan x aelin #songs about you #throne of glass fic #slow burn

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dino-fart · 1 year

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The Bargain | Chapter 7: Close Call

Pairing: Namor x Female Reader

Genre: Action, Adventure, Romance

Summary: To say you had a complicated relationship history was an understatement. Your ex was well...Not of this world? Yet he seemed to always find his way to you. One day he shows up with his new girlfriend asking for your help. You promise to assist if he never shows his face again. What is it he needs you for? And what are you all going to find when deep diving into the Atlantic Ocean?

The cold air made you shiver as you ventured further into the cavern. You had hoped Atlas was heading in the right direction. The three of you reached a large area with four paths branching off. “I don’t think splitting up is a good idea...” You said nervously.

“We can find it faster if we split up,” Namor said.

“I’ll go North.” Atlas headed straight ahead.

“I’ll go left.” Namor headed over.

You sighed and went right. You had a feeling something bad was going to happen.

You took out your pickaxe and cautiously walked along the ice bridge. You walked down the path and ended up in a circular room. You searched the area and there was no sign of the scepter. You shook your head and made your way back to the bridge. You planned to go into the fourth path but a scream stopped you in your tracks. You ran back over to the branching paths room and listened for the scream again.

The scream echoed out of the left path and you sprinted toward there, gripping onto the wall for balance on the icy floor. You stopped as you made it onto the edge of the small icy cliff and saw Namor trapped between two walls of ice and his foot stuck in a hole. You slid down the edge of the small cliff and ran over to Namor.

“How did this happen?” You said putting your flashlight down.

“I thought I saw something...Got trapped...Help me.” Namor’s arms were pinned by the wall. You took out the other pickaxe and took a stance to hold your balance. You slammed the pickaxes against the ice walls and continued to use the same force to chip away the ice. Namor was able to free his left hand and punched the ice. Both of your efforts proved useful as a steep hole on the edge of the wall was enough for Namor to free himself. But he wasn’t completely out, his right foot was frozen in the ice.

You bent down and raised your pickaxe. “Wait! Please...My wings...Be careful.” Namor grabbed your wrist gently. You met his gaze and nodded. He released your wrist and you carefully chipped the ice away. It didn’t take you long to free his foot and you were glad because you could feel the ground begin the shake.

Namor pulled his foot free and stumbled forward. You stood up quickly when the ground shook more and grabbed Namor by the arm. The two of you rushed to hide under the cliff as the ice stalactites began to fall and shatter on the ground. The shaking stopped finally and you sighed in relief. “We’re safe now.” You sighed and then blushed at your position.

You were chest to chest with Namor, your hands on his bare chest. Namor had his arms around your waist.

Namor smiled down at you, “Thank you.”

“How’s your foot?” You said softly.

“I can’t feel it right now but I’m sure it will be fine, thank you for being careful.” Namor leaned down to brush his nose against yours. You parted your lips and leaned in closer to kiss Namor.

“Are you guys okay?!” Atlas shouted on top of the cliff.

You pulled back from Namor and gave him a small smile. “We’re down here!” You shouted back. You stepped out from under the cliff and tied the rope around the handle of the pickaxe. “Here Atlas, grab the pickaxe and we’ll climb up the rope.” You instructed and tossed up the pickaxe.

Atlas grabbed the pickaxe and walked backward. He kept his grip strong when you climbed up the rope. You made it to the top of the cliff. Atlas watched as Namor took hold of the rope. He had a dark thought creep up

What if he let go? He could leave the King of Talokan behind and flee to Talokan and free his wife.

But then his gaze turned to you and how you went on your knees and reached out to help Namor. He cursed at himself, as much as he hated it, he would hate to upset you...For all that he's done to you, it was time for him to make it up to you. Namor gripped the edge of the cliff and you help him up. Atlas dropped the pickaxe and helped you.

“Thanks, Atlas.” You smiled.

“Can’t have the great king of the sea be stuck in ice, can’t we?” Atlas smirked.

“Let’s get back to the center so he can rest.” You said and Atlas helped Namor stand up, he put his arm around his shoulders.

The three of you walked back to the main area.

Atlas set Namor down and sat beside him. “There’s one path left...Do you want me to stay with Atlas or do you want to?” Atlas asked you.

“I’ll go, if I get in trouble I’ll call for two muscular men to come save me.” You grinned.

Namor smirked at you and Atlas nodded. You headed toward the south entrance and made your way in.

This was definitely where the scepter would be. How did you know? Because there was Atlantean writing on the walls and a spiral path in the middle of the room where there was a pedestal that seemed like it would hold the scepter. You made your way toward the spiraling path and to the pedestal. Your heart broke when you didn’t see the scepter.

It was nowhere to be found...

Was this a goose chase this whole time? Was Atlas lying? Your blood began to boil as you headed back to the men.

The travel back to the shore of Lake Llanganuco was quiet. Namor’s foot had healed and he swam far ahead of you and Atlas. Atlas was the one who guided you safely back to the shore. Namor was already waiting on the sand, pacing back and forth. Atlas stepped out of the water and you followed and bent over to cough out any water in your lungs.

“No more lies!” Namor shouted with his fists clenched.

“I swear, Namor, it had to have been there. That’s where I put it for safekeeping.” Atlas said calmly.

“King Namor. And you have fooled me for the last time! Both of you! What sort of researcher are you that you can not find it?” Namor yelled at you. He had lost all his patience and he felt like he was being led around for the fun of it.

You stood up straight, “What sort of king loses his scepter?”

The question was to Atlas who was shaking his head in shame.

“Enough! That’s...Enough...” Namor said calming down. He turned to Atlas, “Where else could it be?”

Atlas sighed in defeat and shrugged, “I-I don’t know...That’s the only place it can be.”

Namor’s blood boiled and he snarled, “Then Atlantis will fall. Starting with your queen. And all you will be able to do is watch helplessly.”

You stepped toward Namor, “Wait, if the earthquakes are frequent then maybe the scepter is deeper in the cavern than we thought?”

“No! I will not play this game anymore. My people need me.” Namor glared at you. You raised your hand to rest on his chest but he grabbed it quickly and squeezed your wrist roughly. “You have deceived me for the last time, researcher, and such a shame...I was starting to like you. I have every reason to kill you right here right now...But...You saved my life. A life for a life.” Namor released his grip and walked back to the waters and dove in, making his way to Talokan.

You were hyperventilating the entire time he held you and your breathing slowly relaxed when he left. Tears formed in your eyes and you turned to Atlas. “Please, Atlas, please tell me you weren’t lying about all of this?”

“Why would I? Especially if Sypha is in danger.” Atlas shook his head.

“Then what do we do...”

“I...I need to find a way to infiltrate Talokan and free Sypha. You...You should go back home. This isn’t your fault...I’m sorry.” Atlas said softly. He walked over to you and gave you a quick hug before walking over to the water. You were too stunned by everything to speak, you just watched Atlas dive into the water and swim away. You fell to your knees and punched your fist into the ground. Atlas was right...You should go back home and it wasn’t your fault. But why did it feel like your heart broke in two when Namor threatened you.

You just sat there in the sand, not sure what to do next...

Author’s Note: Oh boy!!! He’s maaaadddd

Dividers By: @firefly-graphics

Tagging: @bontensbabygirl, @deputy-videogamer, @anthonyedwinstark, @fangirlingbookworm1, @theyluvremi, @bbylime, @redcrayonsforwanda, @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame, @missbeverlyhills, @bluskyy30, @sonadowloverf-blog, @spctorstrnge, @justanotherfanhere, @britty443, @lilithskywalker, @tzurue, @lego0city123, @livingdeadgirl7, @bl6o6dy, @didneyworld13, @bookfrog247, @thicc101q, @angel-bi666, @witchxlove, @omgsuperstarg, @andy-wandy, @queenotaku23, @maripositanoctruna, @ursecondbirthmom, @jupiterclipse, @pauline-s12, @spookymicrowave, @darkfairymoon, @gemini5991, @littleficreccs, @3am-at-a-party, @hotdoglamp, @supernaturallover2002, @natchayaphorn, @sixthgun98, @xwackk, @strvbelities, @internetmultifandomfangirl, @yawny0-0, @girlmythlegend, @lotsoffandomsandsoftpeeps, @ameliabs-world, @dvaine-mercy, @sadslasher13, @jylanlove12, @boxbraidboo, @secretpostts, @fefa-la-printcessa, @queenofangrymoths, @artaxerxesthegreat, @sammisregrets, @imlikefrhungry, @namorwife, @22carolina08, @batfam-sitcom, @ohantonia, @agustdpeach, @ethereal-athalia, @spicydonut25, @historygeekqueen, @em-asian, @stitchattacks, @agustdeeyaa, @sadbutradbarnes, @mynameisbaby9, @thebluehare, @fandom-lover-4, @delsinhunter, @im-a-slut-for-fluff, @asarcasticcaffeinatedslytherin, @theslytherinwriter, @kirrasrkive, @deliciousfestsalad, @violet-19999, @ameliachastain, @raeluvsbloodline, @namor-is-the-way, @lilikan

#namor x reader #namor x you

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quillomens · 7 months

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Book Omens Day 2: Book Era

So I didn't post this yesterday because I thought the week wasn't happening, but @book-omens-week came to life, so here it is one day late!

Also here at Ao3!

In the summer of 1984, both Aziraphale and Crowley went into moult.

Moulting was, in the opinions of Earth’s longest serving supernatural agents, approximately as irritating and pointless as hereditary Satanists and televangelists. Angels and demons lacked both breeding seasons (and reproductive parts, generally) and (in the modern day at least) any dependence on their wings for warmth. This was the twenty-first century, not the fourteenth. Or the fourth. Or…the negative thousandth. Aziraphale, who was especially allergic to anything that stood in the way of his planned hours of reading, avoiding customers, and enjoying meals, declared moulting as “antiquated and bothersome.” Strong words from heaven’s most British angel.

There were relatively few repercussions to being a supernatural being in a human suit, but the itching, scraping, tickling sensations that assaulted their wings every century or so was one.

Generally, an angel or demon’s wings existed in a sort of “pocket” of ethereal or occult space that didn’t exactly remove them but did keep them in a non-intrusive plane of semi-existence. This allowed earthly agents to walk the planet without constant worry that they might knock things over or having to sit awkwardly in chairs designed for wingless humans (heaven’s plush office chairs were specifically designed with the comfort of wings in mind; hell’s splinter-ridden wooden straight backs were engineered to crush wings as much as possible). During the centennial moult, however, the irritation crossed dimensions. Most agents (all but two, if we’re being honest) immediately scarpered off to their particular home office at the first sign of loosening feathers (even hell had steam baths, relaxing once one blocked out – or grew to enjoy – the screaming of the damned). Only Crowley and Aziraphale remained stubbornly earthside for the duration.

Chancing opportunistic reassignment to a desk job by certain unfriendly superiors wasn’t worth avoiding a little feathery discomfort.

It was on July 16th in the sixth year of the Antichrist’s existence on Earth that Aziraphale’s antique phone rang pleasantly to indicate a caller. (It had not always rung pleasantly, but one too many angelic glares and caused it to tone down its original shrill bell.) The angel plucked it up absently.

“A.Z. Fell Books-”

“’M moulting.”

Aziraphale sighed. Crowley and his determination for bad manners. All he said aloud was, “Ah,” and then, “no meeting then?”

He pretended that he wasn’t disappointed. The two of them had been meeting nearly weekly for five years now, to go over the reports from their respective agents on the Dowling boy, and Crowley had such an instinct for inconspicuous little restaurants that served absolutely amazing food. They tended, also, to be rather quiet and empty – most likely due to mob connections, honestly – but having an angel around was known to encourage Good Deeds even in Al Capone, creator of soup kitchens, so Aziraphale didn’t worry about the exact financial backing of Crowley’s collection of little-known brunch spots. As with most things concerning the pair of them, it would all come out in the wash.

“Mm…no,” Crowley agreed. Then, with smug mischief: “Means you’ll be next, angel.”

What, Aziraphale thought unangelically, a demonic brat.

Aziraphale huffed loftily. “I am aware, you old serpent,” he snapped, and Crowley snickered down the line.

Their moults hadn’t always been coordinated. Aziraphale’s had been set to his creation, while all demons were reset to their individual Falls. In the first millennium, they’d never been foolish enough to allow the other to see them in moult. In the second, Aziraphale had accidentally stumbled upon Crowley moodily moulting in South America, but had been polite enough not to mention the scattered remains of feathers. In the wake of the Agreement, however, more regular association over the last millennium had come with the extremely unexpected side effect of coordinating their moults.

It was frankly a little embarrassing.

“Well, enjoy!” the demon said cheerfully, mood always buoyed by sharing his frustration with others. “May the itch be with you!”

He hung up without saying good-bye. Of course.

(It took several minutes for the joke to properly register, but it did. Crowley had insisted Aziraphale watch the Star Wars films as payback for attending the opening night of Jesus Christ, Superstar on stage. “I’m telling you, it’s a classic Greek story, minus the tragic ending,” he’d urged. “You’ll regret it if you don’t see it on the big screen! Televisions won’t be nearly big enough for decades!”

Aziraphale had grudgingly admitted that Crowley had been right, though naturally he never said as much out loud. Couldn’t let Crowley get too full of himself.)

--*--*--*--*--*

Three days later, Aziraphale was a kind-looking being of absolute annoyance.

Apparently, we would be going for a full moult this century, and the musty air of the bookshop was no help to dry and itchy skin. The last few mobsters he’d sent off had nearly wet themselves, but then, they shouldn’t be trying to buy his bookshop, should they? And intimidation was such poor taste.

The phone rang. Even it sounded petulant.

“A.Z. Fe-”

“I have a sort of sauna,” Crowley said, without a greeting and apropos of nothing.

“How lovely for you.” Aziraphale’s voice didn’t match that word, lovely. It dripped with sarcasm, instead.

“What I’m saying,” the demon continued, unbothered, “is I have a sort of sauna with a huge tub that would fit two to maybe five human-shaped beings, or two with wings that could use some hydration.”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows rose. “Are you inviting me to your flat? To moult?”

A pause. “I’m…informing you of a possible adventitious situation.”

“In your bathroom.”

“Psh,” Crowley said, though he would deny it under oath, “’s more than a bathroom. More a bath……ah…throne…room.”

Aziraphale let that one slide.

“Very well,” he said, mood lifting at the thought of steam and warmth and maybe cajoling his friend into plucking a few especially loose feathers he couldn’t easily reach, “I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Right,” the demon growled, and there was the dial tone.

--*--*--*--*--*--

It wasn’t that Aziraphale and Crowley were especially fussed about nudity. You couldn’t be, living as long as they had, in as many cultures as they had. Besides, even with the closer connection they’d formed to these latest corporations over the last few centuries, they were still, well, bodies. Nothing to get excited about.

It was just that Aziraphale could count on one hand, with some fingers taped neatly together, the number of times he’d been to Crowley’s Mayfair flat. They met covertly all over London to discuss their current…project…and Crowley occasionally popped by the bookshop with wine or dessert or lunch or a book or…whatever else caught his fancy. But they didn’t meet in Crowley’s flat. Which Aziraphale was more than fine with – it was much too open, empty, and white for his scattered and cluttered taste.

But the promise of a good steam got him up and moving.

--*--*--*--*--*--

Crowley wasn’t nervous about having the angel in his flat, because Crowley didn’t get nervous. Crowley was calm, cool, and collected. He was the epitome of all the good c’s. Calm, cool, collected, comfortable Crowley, definitely not bouncing his leg nervously as he guided Aziraphale through his open flat, past the terrified plants, through the bedroom (“Two beds?” Aziraphale asked, but Crowley pretended not to hear. Two beds was perfectly reasonable. What if he needed a second bed? Who was the angel to question his decorative choices? It didn’t have anything to do with Aziraphale and the possible, if unlikely, scenario that he would need somewhere to stay that was well-warded against angels and demons and less generally known than the bookshop.), and into the promised bathroom.

He heard the happy little sigh as they entered the steam-filled chamber and grinned to himself.

Crowley’s flat wasn’t really his home – he wasn’t the sort to need a home, as he reminded himself on a regular basis. It was a place he stayed when not out and about doing evil. As such, the only rooms he really dedicated attention to were the bedroom, because he loved sleeping, the plant room, because they did have certain requirements beyond threats and beratement, and his ridiculously oversized and luxurious bathroom.

“It’s lovely,” Aziraphale said, a little pink cheeked already. The recessed pool was already filled with plenty of hot water, the air heavy with steam, the rain-style shower heads keeping up the heat and humidity. Where most of his apartment was white, this room was a dark charcoal-gray.

Crowley didn’t blush or clear his throat or mutter a random syllable (he did). “Strip down and step on in,” he said instead, trying to sound officious.

He was able to slide right in, being of demonic stock, but he had the opportunity to snicker his way through the angel stepping in one toe, ankle, shin at a time. Aziraphale certainly wouldn’t boil, but he’d be plenty pink after this soak.

Aziraphale shot him one of his patented bitchy looks. Crowley grinned back toothily.

It was interesting, seeing Aziraphale bare for the first time in a few centuries. He still wasn’t making an Effort, but his heaven-assigned muscles were covered with a soft layer of fat and downy gold hair. There were dimples at the small of his back, and a comfortable jiggle to his thighs completely absent in Crowley’s own corporation. Aziraphale looked comfortable and lived in and…content. Well, besides the whole end of the world thing.

Crowley glanced down at himself, mostly hairless, tannish skin slick with sweat, slender from top to bottom. He fancied he liked his own lived-in body as well. What a strange old world.

Once they were settled in the seats – “This does remind me of that lovely bath in Turkey, do you remember?” – “’Course I remember. Why do’ya think it reminds you of it?” – they took twin breaths, leaned forward, and let out their wings.

The angel gave out a low groan that made Crowley laugh, head thrown back, until he caught sight of the poor things. Their wings were similar in a great many ways – the same bluish-white, strong and broad (if not broad enough to lift them off the ground in any logical or scientific fashion), a little shine in the right light – but where Crowley’s were as neat as possible aside from the crumbling feathers here and there, Aziraphale’s were a mess.

“Still, angel?” he asked.

Aziraphale huffed. “They’re fine.”

“You look like a feathered hedgehog.”

“Well that, my dear, is just rude.”

Crowley pressed a wet hand to his chest. “Who, me? Rude? To an angel? Never!”

Aziraphale did not grace him with a response.

The silence relaxed into comfortable familiarity for a time. Crowley curved his wing close and began the slow process of preening. Aziraphale closed his eyes and leaned back in the hot water.

“At least we don’t have to do this every year,” the angel said eventually. “And it doesn’t take weeks. Or months.”

“Months?”

“Saw a film.”

“Right. Thought you read books.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Crowley smirked.

Crowley let his legs float up, scaled toes poking out into the steam. Aziraphale studied them a moment. He looked…soft and lazy. Crowley liked it. Aziraphale was certainly better at relaxing than he was, but it still didn’t happen every day.

Crowley wiggled his toes. scales rubbing pleasantly.

“Do they shed?”

Aziraphale raised a wrist and waved it lazily. A find brandy appeared in his hand and, to Crowley’s pleased surprise, the demons. It didn’t occur to them that perhaps heat didn’t go do well with alcohol, but then, a great many things didn’t occur to them on a daily basis, and it was rarely a problem.

“Birds?”

“No, snakes. Or. You. Your….” Aziraphale waved a hand. “Your feet or. Your spine. Do they shed?”

Crowley took a gulp – he never was much of one for classy sipping. “Curiosity, Aziraphale? That’ll get you into trouble.” His smile was sly.

“Do they?”

Ah well, not taking the bait today. He could never be certain with Aziraphale; that was the fun part. If he was too easy to fluster, it’d be boring. And Aziraphale, prim and proper and bitchy and annoying and holier-than-thou and intelligent and sarcastic, was never boring.

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

Aziraphale hummed.

“Itches.”

Aziraphale nodded. If the angel slept, Crowley would think he was cozily half- asleep.

Really, it was a shame the angel didn’t sleep. Crowley’d love to snap a picture of the angel with his faced squashed in a pillow, maybe drooling a little bit. Lovely blackmail material.

Daring and mischievous, he poked one plush knee with his toe.

The angel shot him a half-hearted glare.

From there, the conversation began along the customary rambling paths, unfamiliar setting not preventing comfortable old arguments or the occasional tipsy giggle. In the miraculous heat of the bath, as feathers fell and new ones wiggled in, an angel and a demon who certainly weren’t friends chattered and teased and managed to forget, for a few precious hours, about the end of everything they held dear.

(Even, perhaps, each other, though they didn’t say as much. Of course.)

#book omens #good omens #book omens week #book-omens-week #aziracrow #moulting #wingfic #quill writes

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that-green-simp · 9 months

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The First (Part Two)

Pairing: Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Reader (Non-specified)

Prompt: You couldn’t save a civilian for the first time, Hawks provides comfort.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts/dissociation

Word Count: 856

You barely remembered the journey from the scene back to your apartment. The first time you actually felt awake was when the water of the shower had turned ice cold, knocking you out of your trance.

You couldn’t stop seeing it in your head on replay, but for a moment it had stopped. You turned off the water and moved out of the shower, wrapping yourself tightly in a warm towel in an attempt to comfort yourself while you dried off. The most you could do to get your mind off of it was following Hawks’ earlier instructions. You focused on drying yourself off before you eventually put on a layer of aromatherapy lotion, it helped ease your anxiety slightly. You pulled on a pair of jeans before tugging on a shirt. You were exhausted and you felt like shit. You were ready to collapse back onto your bed when you remembered why you went through all the trouble of showering and changing.

You let out a stressed sigh, grabbing your keys and shoving them in your pocket as you walked to the door and slipped your shoes on. You began to walk down the street and you immediately regretted not bringing your headphones. Your head reared with images of the scene. Maybe if I was a little faster… You know you’re supposed to make civilians your main priority. You knew you weren’t thinking straight and instead tried to focus on moving past the hoards of bustling people on their ways. You walked back to the agency, going inside and into the lounge just to collapse on the couch while you waited for Hawks. You figured if you let your eyes shut and try to sort through your thoughts, you would feel a little better. So, you succumbed to your urges, eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. You allowed your eyes to shut as your body relaxed against the couch.

You felt a small tickle against your nose. You hadn’t even realized you fell asleep. You let out a soft whine, brushing your face to find nothing there. You adjusted against the couch, eyes closed as you desperately clung to sleep. Hawks quirked an eyebrow before trying again, moving one of his feathers teasingly against your nose as he watched in amusement. You let out a soft groan, trying to brush the feather away as he moved it away again.

“Considering this is the fourth time I’ve tried in the last hour, I’d prefer if you got up.” He spoke.

You cracked your eyes open before looking at him. You furrowed your eyebrows, gaining sense of your surroundings again.

“There we go. Good morning.”

“It’s morning?” You questioned, half-dazed.

“No. I let you nap for a bit, figured you needed it. But if we want to get a drink, we have to go, the shop is going to close soon.”

You pouted before getting up nonetheless and making the journey with him to a quaint coffee shop. He opened the door for you, letting you move inside first before following behind you.

“What would you like to drink?” He questioned quietly, looking at you.

You turned to him and gave a short shrug.

“I’m fine with whatever… I’m just going to sit down.” You mumbled softly before moving to a small table in the back of the coffee house.

Hawks furrowed his eyebrows before giving a short shrug. He settled on getting you both hot chocolates. Once he paid and had the drinks, he moved to sit at the table with you. He set down your drink close to you as he sunk down into his seat, adjusting his wings so that they weren’t in the way.

“What do I owe you?” You asked quietly.

He furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head.

“Nothing, it’s my treat.” He said with a soft hum.

You glanced at him.

“I don’t deserve a treat.” You mumbled, shaking your head as you shrugged your shoulders slightly.

“Don’t talk like that. Everybody makes mistakes, it happens. But it wasn’t your fault, okay? You need to understand that.”

You had no energy except to offer a short shrug before you carefully took the hot chocolate and started to drink it. It was really good hot chocolate. The two of you sat together while finishing your drinks. His company helped soothe some of your intrusive thoughts. They were less effective than they had been earlier. After an hour, the two of you left back to the agency.

You were both sat down on the couch in the lounge, Hawks was going through the different movies on the streaming programs he had. You let him pick whatever he wanted as you sat quietly, a sinking feeling slowly creeping up.

“Hey.” Hawks said suddenly, squeezing your arm lightly. “Breathe, you’re okay. It wasn’t your fault. I’m here if you want to talk about it.”

You looked at him before shaking your head and instead resting it against his shoulder. He furrowed his eyebrows, accepting it before wrapping an arm and a wing around you.

“I picked something light.” He said with a soft hum.

#hawks x reader #Keigo takami x reader #bnha hawks #Keigo Takami bnha #bnha #bnha fanfic #one shot #hurt comfort #hurt #comfort

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cromulentreader · 2 months

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I went from slowly reading the first chapters of Fourth Wing to being unable to put it down. Going straight to Iron Flame next.

Onto second-half thoughts. I quite liked the romance between Violencet and Xaden. It didn't feel rushed even though Vi immediately sounded like in need of a cold shower after meeting Xaden. I was worried it would get creepy once the telepathy started, but they both had the means to block it, so fortunately, it didn't go there. The sex scenes were good but I wouldn't have liked the book any less if we had a fade to black - idk what my point is here. I adored the big battle chapters (36 and 37? I didn't check). But this was me after Liam's death.

Dain....FU Dain. Enough said. I was surprisingly not off-putted by how powered up Violet got after the Threshing with 2 dragons and awesome powers. I think it was because she started at such a physical disadvantage. Brennan being alive was not surprising but I do wonder what the story is with their mother. Was she trying to kill Violet when she sent her to the Riders' exam? Maybe this next book will make clear what is going on there.

#read 2024 #fourth wing

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fungicidecarhorn64ad · 8 months

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Here's something I written please read if you want! Thanks to @lordstormageddidnt for help with the punctuation.This is like a passion project of mine so please be nice

TSS One flew over the Parrot's nest

Parrot Man bursts through the museum window. A crowd of rich patrons scream in terror as the figure covered in a costume of brightly coloured feathers crashed through the window.

" hello gentlefolk of Dublin make way for the king of phantom thieves THE PARROT man"

A distant caw can be heard as he says his name

"now hand me the........."

"Are you okay?"

a finely curled mustached gentleman says in worry as the feathered fiend draws a blank

"I never really get this far what am I supposed to steal?"

A giddy museum worker raises their voice and says

"I know where all the cool stuff you can steal is"

they said excitedly this was going to get their favourite artifact in the news they thought,

"yeah sure please show it to me I guess--"

he's cut short by the sound of a person jumping in from the broken glass.

"never fear for I the Gunslinger am here to protect all of you from this fiend"

The wind flows through Triggers makeshift jacket cape, she flips her black ponytail to the back of her head.

"Damn I look badass"

She whispers to herself as she draws Bullet from her pocket who's in her pistol form.

"Woah, easy there we don't want to ruffle any feathers" says Parrot man nervously

"relax they're non lethal bullets" Trigger replies as she steps closer.

"damn you really threw away your chance to bluff like that?" Bullet says.

"oh, yeah I just did" Trigger says

"you just did nut case!"

Parrot man's wings retract and spread as he thrusts into the air colourful feathers launch from the wings straight towards Trigger, she jumps out of the way and keeps dodging as the feathers fly past her. She returns fire and dashes around the upstairs of the museum, she dodges the feathers as the sound of glass exhibits shatter behind her. A grappling hook flies out from the talons attached to Parrot man's feet to hit Trigger but she backflips out of the way, the claw grabs a bronze statue of a walrus, the talons retract and smack Parrot man in the face dissoriating him, Bullet shifts into a long rifle that Trigger blasts launching him back into a wall.

"talk about shooting a bird while he's down"

"well like" Trigger paused thinking of a comeback

"JUST CONTINUE BEATING WHILE HE'S DOWN!" Bullet shouts

"right right"

Trigger fires more, as Parrot man covers himself using his wings as shields.

Parrot man gets back up, his mighty thrusters roaring as he rises back into the air as a ,red and green, megaphone like apparatus rises from his chest to his mouth. He shouts releasing a large sonar blast knocking down everyone in the museum, the sound pins down Trigger as she struggles to aim at the feathered fiend, she fire's three shots missing each, until the fourth one hits Parrot man's Thruster™ causing him to crash into the ground.

"See citizens you shouldn't have feared, hope you didn't cause that would be dumb"

Trigger stops as she hears the sound of a car pull up outside and a familiar voice shouts,

"Chief Justice is here to save the day"

*fuck*, Trigger thought.

"corpos"

Bullet whispers as the two make their escape through the shattered window into the night.

#writing #fiction #superhero #The Teenage Superhero Society

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