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badingsm · 3 months

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VIII — Meetings, Buddies, Romanoffs

Warnings: Cursing, jealousy, a bit suggestive, and the buddies (?)

Note: I'm rusty, I know.

"I didn't like their pasta. It's bland."

"Me too." Natasha chuckled lowly, walking hand in hand with you towards the immigration office, where you'll both be interrogated by Loki Laufeyson himself.

"Good morning." You smiled at the old lady in front. "Natasha and Y/n Romanoff?"

There was a little pause while the older woman named Jennifer (you noticed her nametag) looked through the schedules for today before nodding and kindly leading you to a room.

It has white walls trimmed with nothing but cleanliness. The neat stacks of papers were placed atop the table as you both entered cautiously and plopped down against the sofa in front of the windowpane, where the sun shone brightly like it's signaling there's good news for you to hold on to, making you smile to yourself. There's also the faint smell of tobacco and whiskey combined, causing your nose to scrunch, and before you could even go further into observation, Jennifer spoke once again.

"Mister Laufeyson will see you soon; he just got caught up with some important meetings," She informed apologetically, but you both brushed her worries off. "For the mean time, please let us accommodate you with some drinks and snacks. I'll send someone back in, alright?"

"Please don't bother-"

"Thanks!" You cut your wife off quickly, and you feel the burn of her gaze on the side of your face as soon as the door shuts. "What?"

"You're still hungry?" She questioned incredulously, but her tone betrayed her with amusement. "After everything we ate?"

"Hey!" You pouted. "I told you, I didn't like the food! But it was pricey, so I wanted to finish it, you know?"

"Oh, baby, you didn't have to do that!" Natasha laughed before groaning, "You'll barf on me on the night again."

"I won't," You said smugly.

Knock knock!

"Juice, water, snacks—Y/n?"

A familiar voice had drawn your attention away from your wife, causing your eyes to widen in recognition.

"...hi?" You pathetically choked out when you felt Nat's hand on your thigh. "Darcy."

"Y/n!" Darcy beamed with her bright red lipstick, raising her glasses back up as they slipped on the slope of her nose. "How have you been? It's been... ages."

"Yeah." You laughed hesitantly. "So, um.."

Natasha cleared her throat to make her presence known.

"Oh, wait. Nat, this is Darcy." You nodded to the brunette, cringing inwardly. "And Darcy, this is Natasha, my wife."

"Hey!" Darcy Lewis smiled at your wife, who only lifted her brow, unamused. "Nice to meet you!"

"You two know each other?" It seemed more like a statement than a question. "How?"

You rubbed your neck uncomfortably and chewed your lip. "Well. Uh.."

"Well?" Nat said, raising her brow and frowning. "Please do enlighten me, my love."

Well, you couldn't really formulate any proper words, and Darcy noticed that.

So, being the frank person that she is-

"We were fuck buddies before."

And, as I already stated, frank.

Very, very, very frank.

"Excuse me?" Natasha looked at you, daring you to agree with Darcy's statement so she could throw you off, but you just gave her a weak smile while rubbing your neck awkwardly.

Her shoulder stiffened and her jaw clenched, and you knew you were in trouble.

"That was before," You mumbled truthfully, taking her hand.

"And? Am I supposed to thank you for that?" She said, her tone stern while glaring at you. "Know what? I don't think I'm feeling well for this meeting; I'd just call Laufeyson and reschedule this shit."

You panicked when she stood up, freezing in your spot, prompting her to turn to you with a sarcastic smile. "What? You wanna stay here and reunite with your fuck buddy or-"

"Or nothing!" You shrieked, catching up. "Come on, babe, let's go home."

"Yes," She replied shortly, opening the driver's door and locking it before you could even enter. Lowering the window slightly, "I am going home. You? Go to your fuck buddy, yeah? Seems like you miss her anyways."

You groaned while watching the car drive off into the streets, alone to yourself, as she didn't even listen to your protests.

This is gonna be a long ride.

Two days later.

"Babe, we're already on the plane, and you're still not talking to me?" You frowned, shifting in your seat. "Lola will notice this, and she'll be upset to know that we're fighting."

"Trust me," Natasha muttered. "She'll be more feral about your little... buddies."

"Hey!" You pouted, "Darcy is one! And don't get me wrong, sure, I used to play with women before, but I'm all changed now, okay? This is Y/n Y/l/n 2.0! Will love you like a pro!"

She made a disgusted face, making you laugh before she leaned her head towards your shoulder, causing you to sigh in relief and kiss her forehead as she slept through the flight.

"Natasha, Y/n!"

"Hi, Lola!" Natasha kissed your grandma's cheeks when the older woman pulled her in for a hug. "Um, Ma, bless."

Natasha burrowed her in-law's hand before she raised it into her forehead to show her respect, which made you smile because she's adapting your culture.

It's adorable.

"Where's Papa?" You frowned, saddened by the feeling of déjà vu.

Thankfully, your mother was quick to clarify things. "He's in the parking lot and waiting in the car."

You grinned and grasped your wife's hand while carrying your small luggage on the other.

"Baby?" Natasha whispered on your side, causing you to hum in response. "Remember what happened with the immigration?"

"The one with Loki? I still think we've done a great job-"

"No, the one with Darcy," She smirked. "I'm telling that to Lola."

"Please, no!" You widened your eyes, horrified.

You watched her run away from your side as she caught up with your grandma and began narrating dramatically your interactions with Darcy.

You knew you were doomed, but you couldn't help but chuckle at how serene it feels to see your wife getting along with your family after all the circumstances that you've both gone through.

But again, good luck.

Lola's wrath would be a thousand times worse than anyone's, especially with how Natasha made you look so dirty in her eyes.

"I should be mad at you," You mumbled as you both walked towards the street, about to buy some of Natasha's favorite foods that she missed back when you were both in New York to assess her papers. "But you're cute."

"Ew." Natasha scrunched her nose. "I prefer badass."

"Mhm." You nodded, laughing a little as you looked down towards your linked hands to hopefully kiss it, but before you even knew it, you bumped into someone. "I'm sorry, I wasn't—Ingrid?"

"Oh, hi!" The blonde smiled widely. "What are you doing here?"

"I was actually born here," You said, feeling a jab on your stomach before you saw your wife's raised brows. "And this is my wife, Natasha."

"Well, this is awkward." You heard Ingrid mumble lowly to herself, but she was quick to dismiss it. "I was sent here for a couple of weeks to complete some business deals."

"Really?" You questioned.

"Yeah." Ingrid nodded, and she felt someone staring at her so hard that she felt like there's already a hole in her forehead. Soon enough, she confirmed that it was your wife. "I should probably, um," She awkwardly gestured her way, "Yeah. I should go."

"Well, goodbye!" You smiled, nodding.

"Bye!"

"And who's that woman?" Natasha asked as soon as Ingrid had left. She feels like history is literally repeating itself, "Again?"

"Uh." You rubbed the back of your neck, and Natasha knows what that means already.

She sighed, clenching her jaw. "Tell me how many more of your fuck buddies I would meet. Should I do some meet and greet with them already?"

"Baby, I don't even intend to see them." You paused when she scowled. "Hey, it's not my fault! Honest!"

"Tell me, how many women do you have?!"

"My-" you shrieked. "What?!"

"I'm sorry," She scoffed sarcastically. "Should I rather say, fuck buddies?"

"No, god!" You cringed. "I hope she's the last one, though."

"Oh, so you admit that there's a lot! You're an absolute fucktoy-"

And before she could even start an argument, you covered her mouth quickly and began pulling her towards where you saw someone grilling your favorite street foods.

"I'm hungry!"

"Go starve," Natasha scoffed.

"Baby, come on, I promise she's the last."

"Y/n?"

You heard another familiar voice, making you wince when Natasha's glare doubled its intensity from before.

"Lucy, hello." You smiled lightly towards the brunette, feeling Natasha's hand on your thigh possessively.

"Well, here are your orders." She placed the plates on the table along with the sauces before nodding politely and attending another customer, but not before saying, "Let's catch up soon, yeah?"

You laughed unsurely when you felt your wife squeeze your leg in warning.

"Sorry, I have to go now!" She grinned before dashing off to attend to other customers.

"Really? Even her?" Natasha looked at you incredulously. "Seriously, this is not funny anymore."

It's not your fault that your past flings keep popping up here and there, but you don't want to invalidate Natasha's feelings of jealousy because they're surely valid.

And usually, it takes a lot for Natasha to be calm after one of her jealous moments, but you're more than happy to reassure her anyway.

"Babe, we talked about this." You started, "I love you so much, I wouldn't dare to cheat-"

"Y/n?"

Another familiar brunette had appeared in your vision, making Natasha fume this time.

"Oh, for fucks sake!" Natasha breathed out, chuckling sarcastically. "I'm going home. Enjoy your food, Y/n."

"Baby, wait!" You quickly stood up to follow Natasha, not even glancing at the other woman. "Hey! Nat!"

"What?!" She snapped.

"I'm sorry.."

It's simple, but Natasha knew that it's deep, and you meant to say it in more ways than one.

"No." Natasha shook her head, sighing after a while. "It's stupid anyway."

"You have every right to be upset, you know. There is no need to lie about it; I know you like the back of my hand."

"It doesn't matter." She rolled her eyes.

"Certainly does." You nodded. "I'm sorry for everything, okay? I want you to know that I would never ever leave you, especially if it's for another woman. I love you too much, and I hope you know that."

Silence.

You were afraid that she'd run away again, but soon all your worries were gone as she kissed you possessively.

"Mine," She mumbled, biting your lips.

That made you smile, sighing in relief.

"Let's go," Natasha chuckled, pulling your hand.

"Where are we going?"

She smirked seductively, "We're making babies."

And there, my gays, that's how Atasha Margaret Y/l/n-Romanoff and Andrew Nathan Y/l/n-Romanoff were brought into this world after you both had settled into bed with Lola's baby maker blanket covering both of your bodies.

The end.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #black widow #marvel #soft natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #jealous natasha romanoff #the proposal series

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toriwakes · 2 years

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Snowball [Spencer Reid x Reader]

summary: spencer just cant wait another day to see you

content warnings: fluff, that’s it

a/n: BOO!!!!! i’m back :) it’s been so long so PLEASE excuse the rusty writing. i hope u all enjoy and as always, please let me know if u have any requests!

you’ve been sick for 7 days.

7. damned. days.

spencer was so impatient when it came to you. he knew one week meant you should be in recovery and returning back to him any day now but he physically just couldn’t wait anymore. so, he did the only logical thing there was to do.

he put his coat on, and got ready to walk in the snow to your apartment.

he picked up your favorite treats on the way there, and a hot pad for himself. he could feel his throat drying and the tip of his nose freezing, but he’d know his efforts were worth it when he got to see you again.

it was late at night. you went to bed early when you were healthy, he could only assume you went to sleep earlier when you were sick. he was pushing 10 o’clock now, but he had just the idea to ensure your consciousness.

he made it to your apartment- sans frostbite. your light was on, but spencer new sometimes you’d get so tired you wouldn’t shut them off before sleeping. he smiled at the thought. you curled up in bed, peacefully. he really, really wanted to see you. which is why he believes his next actions are justified.

he picked up a handful of snow from the ground, took about 2 minutes to calculate his aim, and threw the snowball with all his might to your window. he smiled when his shot was precise and the snowball flew right in.

wait.

spencer’s (frigid) hands flung to his mouth to muffle his gasp. the back of gifts fell softly to the ground with the snow breaking it’s fall.

he did not just do that.

your pajama-clad body ran to the windowsill, already muttering curse words when your eyes landed on spencer. “spence?!” you shouted. he was absolutely speechless. he stood there, feeling frozen. out of fear and due to the weather. “what the hell?” you said through a chuckle, running to put a coat on before shuffling down the stairs to see him. he’d hardly moved from his spot when you got down there, still shocked from the situation. you crossed your arms, urging his explanation. and he did give you one.

“i really wanted to see you. and i walked here from my apartment-“ “you walked?” you interjected, but spencer kept rambling. “so i picked up some of those candies and that tea you really like and i thought you were asleep and i wanted to avoid waking you up by knocking because i know that scares you so i threw a snowball because i also thought it’d be kind of romantic-“ “spencer.” he stopped rambling and looked at you. “yes?” “i. am not. mad.” “you’re not?” you put both of your hands on either side of his head. “of course i’m not mad. i will be mad if we stay out here any longer because i am freezing, though.” he smiled and took your hand in his, running inside the complex with you.

you got him a change of warm clothes that he’d left at your place some time ago. you got him in bed as quickly as you could, engulfing him in the sheets and clinging onto him like a koala. you guys were sharing some of the candy he bought and talking about his work and your studying. you could never string together the right words to express how much you loved him.

spencer looked down at you while his body regained warmth in time with his heart. this really was all worth it. seeing you, holding you, hearing your laugh.

you were starting to get tired when spencer spoke again.

“hey (y/n)?”

“yes?”

“did you close that window?” you answered by hopping out of bed and scurrying to the living room, from which you could hear spencer laughing from bed.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid funny #ssa spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff

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oliviajdjarin · 1 year

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Azriel Shadowsinger: Young God

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Request: “Okay I’m annoying you with these now hehe sorry. But I have another idea/request. You know how in angst Azriel x reader oneshots it’s always the reader who’s in love with Azriel and he’s in a relationship? How about we switch that and make it so Azriel is in love with an unavailable reader?” @aroseinvelaris

Excerpt: “He looked up at you like a boy, a little boy, who had been pushed too far. And yet, at the same time, the Azriel who quickened your heart with only a glance was still there, giving his face and body the look of what you could only describe as a young, bleeding god. Covered in sweat and tears and blood, his hair soaked with the same alloy, he was a fallen angel, begging for mercy.

His eyes said to you make it stop. Please, make it end.

“Az,” you whispered, and he fell into your arms.

Your brain instantly tore you in half. You had never felt so overjoyed and crestfallen in the same moment.”

Warnings: illyrian!reader, jealous!azriel (so yummy), idiots in love, reader has sex with someone else, heavy swearing, kind of toxic reader and az, drinking, mating bond, punching bags, blood, kissing, and our lord of bloodshed and high lord make an appearance.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: I have been sitting on this request forever, and I feel I am finally capable of doing it justice. I hope you enjoy @aroseinvelaris, thank you again for your request.

A/N 2: I’m a lot a little rusty with acotar vernacular and Azriel descriptions. so please be kind. This is also incredibly not canon.

SJM Masterlist

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated :)

The last thing you wanted to do in the infamous, disreputable Windhaven War-Camp was drink, but with the presence of its current war lord, you were really fucking tempted to.

You could hear his remarks from a multiple tables away.

Training females, a waste of resources if you ask me.

What the fuck else does Rhysand expect of us? To put bitches in our camps? On our front lines?

Rhysand’s dogs wish they could prove what we do to with them after their training.

He was a cocksucking pig, and that was enough of an excuse for you to bring a cup of wine to your lips and practically guzzle it down.

“You hear him too?” said the Lord of Bloodshed to your right, or as you knew him, just Cass.

You nodded, taking another sip despite the sour grapes coating your tongue, and his leathers squeaked as he leaned forward on his chair. He was gripping his own glass like a sailor dangling over a hull.

“Mother help me,” he replied.

“Mother help us all,” you countered, and Cassian chuckled.

“And Rhysand most of all,” he replied, gesturing across the crowded dining area.

Rhys was elbows-deep in documents, going over how exactly Windhaven was functioning under his rule with the other war lords. You didn’t blame him. With Ironcrest continuing to defame him and grip onto their dissent, Rhysand couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.

He would never admit that, of course, but after over a century of spying for him, you had your ways of reading him; shoulders tight, back hunched, eyebrows creased, and chin resting on his palm. Yeah, he was a bit stressed out.

If only you could read another Illyrian in the room’s body language so well.

You and Cassian sat and drank for some time, grateful Rhys trusted you to be his backup but simultaneously regretting ever joining him in the first place, before the rest of your backup arrived.

You begged your heart not to quicken. The alcohol was already fucking with your head enough.

Azriel sat in the seat to your left, his distinct musk of cool air, leather, and shadows breezing by you as he did, and poured himself a glass of his own.

“Notice anything?” Cassian asked him as he poured, well aware that your heart was in fact quickening, but Az shook his head.

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You nodded as he sipped his drink, leaning back into his chair. His wings and chest widened, giving your peripheral vision the perfect angle of his leathers. Him and Cassian had gone all out - adorned with every dagger, cuirass, pauldron, and gauntlet you could think of, in addition to their shimmering siphons bouncing off every metallic object in the hall. You blended in with them as best as you could.

Except, of course, the fact that you were a female.

Az’s voice ripped you from your thoughts. “I would feel more confident if Y/N did my route over again after dinner is served. Would you be okay with that?”

You nodded without looking at him, and were surrounded by silence once more.

The three of you continued to keep your eyes open, scanning the room for any sudden movements, suspicious glances, or unnecessary walks towards your High Lord. Your body besieged you to get up and get away from the male beside you. Escape the nervous energy he always seemed to coat you with made especially worse given the fact that you were surrounded and outnumbered by enemies, made your fight-flight-or-freeze response ache with strain.

The alcohol wasn’t helping the feeling at all. You needed something else. Right then and right there to make your heart pound and sweat pour from your pores.

With one glance to your right, you spotted your solution.

“Is that who I think it is?” Cassian asked, following your line of sight, and you grinned.

Ozia. A name perfect for his image in your mind.

Azriel followed your gaze as well, his spine straightening and his eyes squinting, and looked back to you with a look that could only be described as a mix of puzzled and panicked.

The male’s hazel eyes met yours across the hall, and in that moment, you knew exactly where your night was going to end.

The male was tall and chiseled, skin tanned and freckled, and his hair was brown and curly. It hung over his eyes slightly, etching his curved nose and pouted lips perfectly. He was quiet, reserved, but one of the few Ilyrian males you had ever found yourself able to trust. You had met him the last time you had visited Devlon, enforcing Rhysand’s rule of training before chores with an iron fist, and Ozia had backed you up completely. He explained that he had even started taking the females back to his home to teach them proper stretching and breathing techniques, and his support made your trip infinitely easier.

Maybe that was the reason you had ended up in his bed, or maybe it was because of his borderline piercing resemblance to the male on your left. Either way, Cassian had never teased you as relentlessly as he had the day he had found out - you still had no fucking idea how - and with the look in his eye as his gaze bounced between you, Ozia, and Az, he was not going to let this one go either.

Not a morsel of you cared. It was infinitely better than sitting in the want of a male you could never have.

You finished off your wine before standing up, scraping your wooded chair against the floor as you did. Azriel looked up at you and, likely having put the two pieces together, asked, “What about dinner?”

Your excitement to escape him caused you to overlook the venom in his tone.

“I’m not hungry,” you responded, and made your way towards the male you knew, and away from the one you wish you did.

~*~

Azriel willed himself to remember a word of what Cassian had said to him from the moment you left to the moment he finally made his escape, but as he trekked up the creaky, circular stairs to his dust-ridden bedroom for the evening, he could not recall a single word.

Not after the look in your eyes as you looked at the male across the room, the grin tracing your teeth as you eyed him, and the way your hips moved as you walked to him. Not after Azriel could not eat more than a few bites of the chicken soup provided for them without becoming queasy at the thought of what that male - Ozia - was doing to you, what you were doing to him. Not after the blow to his heart after waiting for you to walk his route with him, as you had agreed to, and you never showing.

And especially not now, as he prepared himself for the necessity of passing your room in order to get to his own.

With the alcohol muddling his mind and the exhaustion in his muscles from one of the longest days he had experienced in recent memory, he thought he could pass it by without a second thought. He was in the clear at the top of the steps, throat closing and head pounding, but as he made his way past your door, his hope dissolved like a sugar in tea.

He didn’t hear you, or him, or have any proof that you were together in your room in any way...

... except for the smell of it.

He had never hated anything more..

The smell of you - you - that he had gotten to know so well. Vanilla and green tea with just a hint of rose, a mixture true to who you were at your core, mixed with the smell of someone else. It was sex and sweat and spit and sheets and you so much of you and so much of him.

It was acrid, pungent, and so fucking heart shattering that he had to put his hand to his chest to ensure his heart was still beating.

He wanted to keel over in pain, rip his heart out of his chest, shatter every window in the cabin, and rip you away from him all in the same moment.

But he just kept on walking, ignoring the tether in his chest pulling him back to you more than anything else.

~*~

If Azriel thought that night was long, he was not ready for the morning after.

At breakfast, you reeked of him, yet the smile on your face was what burned Azriel to a crisp. As the four of you traveled home, you and Cass snuck glances at each other like two females who knew something Azriel didn’t. When you finally reached the House of Wind, you immediately went up to bed, mumbling something about how you hadn’t managed to get much sleep anyway.

He hadn’t either.

As you headed upstairs, Azriel headed down, vibrating with an energy he could not describe. All he knew was that he wanted it off of him. He needed everything he was feeling inside of him off and away it was cutting him so deeply -

“Hey,” came a voice, the arm attached to it finding its place on Azriel’s shoulder. He turned, startled to finally feel his body after living solely in his head, and was met with violet.

“What’s going on?” Rhys asked, and Azriel softened a bit from the look of concern in his eyes.

After centuries of having brothers - real brothers - he still wasn’t used to being loved.

“I’m fine,” Azriel replied, and Rhys raised his eyebrows. “Honestly, I am. Just overtired, and sick of Illyrians.”

As if on cue, Cassian walked through the house with a dagger in one hand and an even bigger bottle of liquor in the other, likely headed upstairs to bring said items up to his mate.

He turned to look at his observers as he made his way up, exclaiming proudly, “I picked the dagger out myself.”

Rhys and Az looked at each other after he reached the top, and Rhys chuckled, patting Azriel on the shoulder. “You and me both, brother.”

~*~

Azriel couldn’t remember how many punching bags he’d sent flying across the training room’s floor. He didn’t fucking care.

All he knew was that the feeling inside of him was not stopping.

He had done pushups until he collapsed, a plank until he dropped, crunches until he puked, and now he was punching the bags without any wrapping protecting the skin of his hands. He would take anything else - anything else - in place of this anguish. He could still smell it, couldn’t stop picturing it, and every time his brain seemed to release him from the torture of its vividity, it would snap back in almost instantly like a punch to his stomach.

He’d been hit many times, but nothing that felt like this. It was a feral, dirty, venomous beast inside of him tearing him apart with its nails and teeth. His arms were jelly, his hands were spilling clumps of blood, but it still wasn’t enough. The beast was relentless, beating Azriel no matter what he did.

His chest ached so badly. The thought of you kissing Ozia.

Punch.

Tasting him.

Punch.

Feeling him.

Punch.

Laughing with him.

Punch.

Smiling at him. Enough to crinkle your irises. While Azriel waited for you.

Punch.

And possibly even loving him.

A punch, a crack, and a scream echoed through the chamber, and Azriel smiled with victory as his body finally gave out on him.

~*~

You woke covered in sweat, an unidentifiable scream echoing through your mind like a stone in an empty cave, and a searing pain etching its way down your right hand. Tears coated your eyes as you sat up, hissing as the throbbing made it down to your fingertips.

The scream continued to reverberate all the while.

“Fuck,” you whispered, your hand laying limp by your side. You felt stupid for crying. You had broken your hand before.

But your hand wasn’t broken.

You attempted to wiggle it around, flexing your fingers and widening your grip, and the pain slowly faded to a dull ache. You wiped your eyes as you pushed down onto the mattress with it, attempting to gauge how harsh the pain was engrained your bones.

The searing sensation returned.

“Fuck,” you whispered again, and scooted off the bed and onto your feet. The sun had begun to rise outside your window, illuminating you with gold as you walked into the hall and down to the kitchen.

Your mind muddled with pain and sleep so harshly that you relied on your body to navigate for you, allowing it to think for you. You didn’t even know why you were going to the kitchen. You just needed to move the rest of your body to distract you from your hanging hand.

As you blinked the sleep out of your eyes, you realized that, instead of the kitchen, your body had begun to take you down further.

“What the fuck am I doing?” you questioned, but still walked down, down, down.

Maybe your body was telling you that some training would do you good. Maybe your hand was just stiff and sore, and needed renewed blood flow. You had been skipping out on your morning routine due to your guard duty. Maybe your body was itching for it back.

You yawned, whispering, “Whatever.”

You began rolling your shoulders as your feet hit the ground, warming up your back and neck. You rubbed your eyes one last time with your left hand, allowing your still aching right one to remain hanging at your side, while simultaneously becoming overwhelmed with the scent of sweat, rubber, and blood. For a second, you smiled, content with the feeling of walking into a space you knew so well - that knew you so well. You were excited, your adrenal gland suddenly pumping you with adrenaline and dopamine.

You were home.

That euphoric pairing was suddenly doused with cortisol as you turned towards the punching bags, only to be met with nearly a dozen lying flat, and a mass of dark wings kneeling on the hard ground.

A mass of dark wings that you could recognize with only the sound of them.

“Azriel,” you whispered, watching as he breathed heavily, clutching his bleeding hand. He was surrounded by small sprays of crimson blood and clear sweat, painting the floor a muted color. His expression was...pained, haunted.

It was his right hand he was clutching.

“Azriel,” you said again, a bit louder that time, and picked up your stride. He hinted at no recognition.

Your own pained hand was long forgotten.

You reached him quickly, kneeling down beside him and touching his shoulders gently. You turned him to look at you, tempted to finally understand the exact feeling of his face slightly stubbled, but his head remained low.

“Azriel, what the fu -” you began, but were unable to form another syllable when his golden eyes connected with yours.

He looked up at you like a boy, a little boy, who had been pushed too far. And yet, at the same time, the Azriel who quickened your heart with only a glance was still there, giving his face and body the look of what you could only describe as a young, bleeding god. Covered in sweat and tears and blood, his hair soaked with the same alloy, he was a fallen angel, begging for mercy.

His eyes said to you make it stop. Please, make it end.

“Az,” you whispered, and he fell into your arms.

Your brain instantly tore you in half. You had never felt so overjoyed and crestfallen in the same moment.

His face was pressed against your collarbone as he began to weep, and his arms wrapped around your waist. He was timid at first, waiting for you to push him away, but you didn’t. Your body molded him to you, pressing him against you and holding him like glass. He was shaking, sweating, and bleeding all over you, enough that blood dripping from his mouth had begun to soak through your shirt. You closed your eyes and held him impossibly closer, and brought your still throbbing hand up to the back of his neck.

Every part of his body that you could feel was warm - too warm.

“Azriel,” you whispered, your voice suddenly cracking at the effort to speak, “what happened?”

He said nothing.

“Why are you down here, Azriel?” you asked, beginning to rub your fingers along the top of his spine. “Tell me why.”

He inhaled shakily, his hot breath mixing with the heat of his blood still staining you, and tried to speak. Nothing escaped besides another quiet sob.

This Spymaster, Illyrian warrior, the strongest there had ever been, was shattering in your arms.

“Please just tell me,” you whispered again. It was your own way of begging him to get up again, be the male who never cracked, never crumbled. He was a rock - he was always a rock - and seeing him like this was scaring the living shit out of you.

He had to have caught on, because after a few shaky breaths, he whispered quietly enough for only you to hear. “Because I can still smell him on you.”

Your eyes widened, and a copper taste coated your tongue.

“You...” you whimpered, “you smell him?”

Suddenly Azriel pushed himself off you and looked at you with something other than pain and hurt.

It was...you didn’t know what it was.

“Yes,” he replied, his bloodied, broken hand trembling, “that’s all I can fucking smell and see. I can’t stop it. No matter what I do, I can’t stop it.”

You recalled Rhysand’s words from the past, about Feyre.

When I would feel her on Tamlin, he said, it was all I could see. I couldn’t stop it.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Azriel continued, “my chest...it hurts.”

It was all in my chest, Rhysand had said, the pain was, at least, The rest was somewhere deeper, like it was engrained in me. The wrongness of it was inside of me.

“It’s inside of me, Y/N.” Azriel’s mouth was dripping blood now, adding to the mural he had painted on the floor, “I don’t...your hand?”

You looked down at your limp one, and back up at him.

“You...you felt it?” he asked, referring to the shattering of his own bones.

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks, but from something other than pain. Your voice was breathy and perfumed with triumph as you traced the pattern in both Az and Rhys’s words. “Yes.”

Azriel’s defeated eyes suddenly lit with curiosity. “How...how is that possi -”

“The pain’s right here, isn’t it?” you interrupted him, putting your left hand on the area right beneath your breasts. “Right here?”

You moved your hand to the same area on his chest, and he nodded.

“It burns, doesn’t it?”

“Everywhere,” he agreed.

You nodded. “It’s deep, like in your bones it feels -”

“- wrong.” He completed your sentence for you.

You smiled, big enough to wrinkle your irises, and kissed him.

He was bloody and hot, but you kissed him anyway, hard enough for drops of it to begin to drip down your lips as well.

You pulled away and took his injured hand in yours. “Why do you think I was with Ozia in the first place?”

Azriel’s voice was quiet and unsure. “I... I don’t know.”

“Because he was as close to you as I could get,” you said with a chuckle. “I thought, after a century, there was no hope. That the Cauldron destined you for someone else. I figured, if I couldn’t have you, I would drown the grief in someone who I could pretend was you.”

His eyes widened, and he licked his bloodied lips before asking, “Did it work?”

You chuckled back and kissed his cheek. “Not even close.”

With your lips still buzzing, he pulled you in for another kiss, and finally - finally - the cracks in your chest bloomed into a bond. It was soothing, spreading itself over all the wounds that remained open from a century of festering, and replaced them with a garden of roses. The feeling stretched itself around your body, wrapping you in a cocoon of solace. You had been carrying the ache of an untethered line in your body, and it had finally found its dock.

He kissed you softly, holding back enough to prove to you of his uncertainty, before you pulled away and mumbled, “I feel it too.”

He swallowed and smiled, enough to crinkle the skin around his eyes and accentuate his dimples. With his blood still dripping from both of your mouths, he said with full confidence, “You’re my mate.”

You wiped the blood from his chin and brushed back the strands of hair sticking to his forehead as you replied, “And you are mine.”

With eyes only filled with love, Azriel said, “So that’s why I wanted to tear his jaw off.”

You smiled and pressed your foreheads together, rubbing your thumb along his cheekbone. Your shattered hands were placed on top of each other on the ground.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you said to him. “I thought the pain I felt was merely jealousy, and I was with Ozia to escape from it. If I knew you were experiencing it too, or if I was honest from the beginning, you never would have gotten hurt.”

You leaned back to look him in the eye as you said, “I am sorry I hurt you. I am sorry I left you to do the route alone. I am sorry for all of it.”

He only smiled. “I had every opportunity to be honest too, and I didn’t take it. This isn’t your fault.’

You nodded, but he kissed you again. “This isn’t your fault.”

You kissed him back, showing him you believed him through your tongue and teeth.

You had dreamed of this moment, internalized every spat of poetry Rhysand and Cassian had iterated about the feeling of it, but nothing could have prepared you to know the feeling of being honestly, rawfully, and purely loved.

Taglist (if you’d like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @notquitehero @lovelyladymayyy @seraphqueen @em---r @azaideen @katiebellf @llovelydove @tinasbookishlife @xxpeachyxo @evlyncelia @icarusave @forever-paramore28 @peachyxlynch @feyretopia @wingedmiken @moonslattes @hollyismentallyillhelp @esposadomd @redhighlady @bsenpai-blog @buttercake2234 @perssepeony @whor-3-crux @avengerswhre @mystic-sculpture @wolfyland7 @are-y0u-serious-blog @hilism @tooobsessedsstuff @simplysensual @hernameispa @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @i-am-fascinated @seraphimluxe @just-living5 @saphiraprince22 @azsazz @thatonespriteobsessedbitch @moisyinfluencerstrawberry @bigcreatorwombatdreamer

#Azriel #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #cassian x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar #acowar #acofs #acomaf #acofas #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #tog #crescent city fanfic

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yuusishi · 2 years

Note

*breaks into your Tumblr* HELLO THERE!! 👀

May I request a fluffy crack-like scenario where Idia, Rook, and Trey (separately) confess to the gn!reader. The reader happily accepts their confession because, of course, they also like them too. HOWEVER! They state something unexpectedly hilarious just after the confession:

"Well, since we are dating now, you'll have to prove yourself worthy of being Grim's father. That little gremlin may be annoying and tiring to deal with, but he's like my son, you know?"

What would their reaction be? And thank you in advance!! 💕

To Be My Boyfriend is to Be Grim’s Parent!

pairings: Idia Shroud, Rook Hunt, Trey Clover x gn!reader (sep.)

they/them pronouns used

genre: fluff, crack-ish

cws/tws: none

a/n: THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE, THIS REQ WAS ONE OF THE ONES BEFORE NOVEMBER IT’S FINALLY HERE 😭. I got a little rusty due to not writing for a while but I hope this is still good! Also I apologize that I forgot to make it a little crack-ish on Trey and Idia </3

¡ Idia Shroud !

“Y-You actually like me? Like you’re being for real? This isn’t a joke, right?” Idia’s speech was frantic and he was slightly scratching at his fingers ``Of course I do, the others may be nice to me like you but you’re just different. Like, help me with my homework, let me hang out with you when I feel down, and a lot more, and I love you for that”

‘Oh Seven, they even dropped the L word…’ Idia pulled up his hood and hid his face within it

You let out a little giggle before speaking again “Although…”

Idia peeked out from his hood, preparing himself for the worst while you just continued laughing

“Since I assume we’re dating…” you slowly put your hands on your hips and looked at Idia dead in the eyes, slightly startling the boy “...you need to prove yourself worthy of being Grim’s father!”

Idia stared off at your face for a moment, brain malfunctioning

‘Father…I’m Grim’s father…? Wait…, wouldn’t that make [Name] my….’

Congratulations you made Idia’s brain blue screen.

After calming him down from his thoughts he sighed and pulled you into his embrace, his arms wrapped around your lower back and his head buried into your shoulder

“I guess I am experienced in taking care of kids like Grim, I can take it”

Although you said it all as a joke, you lovingly stared over at Idia’s head and returned his embrace.

¡ Rook Hunt !

Rook’s answers to things are always so extravagant, always knowing what to say in most situations, but nothing could have prepared him for what you said

“Prove myself worthy of becoming the father of Monsieur Peluche?” he was shocked to say the least, his face was wide-eyed and a small gap between his lips with his brain trying to fully process it before he busted out his signature close-eyed smile

“What a glorious challenge, mon cherie! I shall become nothing short of the best father to him…!” he paused before taking your hand in his and pressing a gentle kiss onto your knuckles “...And of course, the best husband for you, mon amour”

Ah…it seems your own joke backfired on you for you are the one with a face flushed red at Rook’s actions.

Grim’s ears perked up when he heard you yelling for him in the empty hallways, it was after class hours after all, he instantly became suspicious when Rook was way more affectionate than usual. Rook doesn’t flirt with students, but he does say things sometimes that sound like he is

“What do you want?” Grim eyed Rook

“I, Rook Hunt, am one of your parents now!” he yelled as he picked up Grim like he weighed nothing

“New what?! I didn’t even know I had one parent?!” he yelled back “Oh how cruel you are to [Name], they told me that to be their boyfriend is also to be your father!”

Grim gave you a confused and begging look before reluctantly giving in to Rook’s hold.

¡ Trey Clover !

“E-Excuse me?” he blinked in confusion

“Mhm! That Grim is my son and since we are dating you need to prove that you’re a good father for him!” you stared at him with a determined face with your hands on your hips

Trey was full of confusion at this moment, mainly out of shock, but laughed it off with a sigh “Well, knowing Grim, shall we bake something for him as a peace offering?”

Your eyes lit up at the mention of baking with your now boyfriend and you yelled a yes.

You rested your arms on the countertop of Heartslabyul’s kitchen, them being tired from mixing all the batter needed for Trey’s peace offering cake to Grim

“Did baking tire you out that much?” he teased “Yeah, guess I’m not used to so much arm movement” you laughed

Trey paused for a moment before leaning in closer to your face “Did you eat some of the cake batter?”

Only realizing now that you got some of the batter on your lips you awkwardly laughed in front of his scolding eyes, Trey sighed before wiping off the batter on your lips quickly with his thumb and wiping it off on a kitchen rag. You heard him make a little hum before he leaned in again but this time instead of his thumb on your lips it was his lips on yours, the red on your face almost matching the red on Heartslabyul’s walls when he pulled away while he had a mischievous grin on his face

“I guess cake batter does taste good, but it’s better when it’s fully baked”.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #rook hunt x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #twst fluff #idia shroud x reader

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slxsherwriter · 27 days

Text

Love is a Labor

Fandom: Joy Ride

Pairings: Rusty Nail x Single Mother reader

Word count: 2,127

Warnings: None

Author's note: This is for @umnitsa who had asked for a second part of A Chance at New Beginnings and have it be fluff (sorry I couldn't expand on the further part of that request this was where my brain went). Have some soft, domestic Rusty.

Tagging: @tinalbion

“Are you really sure about this?” The question came for what had to be the fifteenth time in the last hour. It was coming from a place of good intentions, that much was well known. But after so many times, that raw nerve of irritation was starting to flare.

“Yes. The answer isn't going to change. It hasn't yet, and it won't.” Your friend sighed beside you, still not convinced that this was anything other than a bad idea. A fact that had also been aired out several times over the last two days. Ever since you announced the plans to meet up with Rusty. This time with Michael in tow.

“I just…I got a bad feeling about this guy. You've met him once, talked to him, what? Three times? And now you are going to meet him with your kid?” All good and valid points. You were thankful for the concern and the worry. It meant that she cared. What she didn't know? You had been talking with Rusty almost nightly for the past month. Yeah, you had only met with him once up until now. Maybe it was a little silly, but his presence had made you feel safe, far safer than anyone else in your life had ever managed. He had already proven himself good with Michael. So why not? Did it feel a little like a rebound after what you had gone through with your ex? Slightly. But that wasn't the point. Rusty was kind, patient, and caring. You considered him a good friend. The attraction that you had to the man that had seemingly ignited out of nowhere was just a side point.

“I get you're worried, and I appreciate it. I really do. But there isn't anything to be worried about, okay? It's not like I'm going to meet up with him at some motel. We are meeting in a public place. You know where I'll be, and there are going to be plenty of other people around.”

“I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this, am I?" It wasn't defeat in her voice but awful close to it.

“Not a chance.” You leaned in and gave your friend a hug. “Everything's going to be just fine, okay? I know it.” The huff that came from her told you all that you needed to know; she didn't believe a word that you had said and was still going to panic over the entire thing. If it wasn't, well, she would get to say I told you so. Michael appeared in the doorway, wearing a grin and tucking his truck into the little backpack he carried everywhere.

“Come on, mom.” There hadn't been this sort of impatience about him before. It was endearing and solidified your choice in this whole thing. “If we're late, we might miss him.”

“We aren't going to miss him, I promise.” You scooped your son up into your arms and smiled. “Got everything?” He nodded.

“You two be careful, okay?”.

“We will be. Let's get going then.” You got Michael's shoes on and tucked him up in his jacket before heading out the door and to the agreed meeting spot. Location services on your phone turned on as per the request of your friend and current roommate.

Okay, so the meeting spot wasn't exactly largely full of people. You had opted for a park. Still a little dangerous, yes, but you truly weren't worried. Besides, it gave Michael open space to play and be away from the man if he did feel uncomfortable. He was four after all, being cramped into a coffee shop, or something of the like wasn't fair. The weather was nice enough, just on the right side of chilly and clouds provided just enough cover where the sun wasn't constantly beaming down into eyes. You had settled on a bench, letting Mike play with the trucks that he brought in the sand not too far off.

“Excuse me, that seat taken?” The low, gravelly voice was one you could recognize in your sleep by now.

“Well, I was saving it for someone,” you offered back, looking up at the towering figure with a grin. You couldn't entirely see his face from how he was standing, hat keeping half of his face shielded. “But, I guess I could offer it. You seem like a nice man.”

“Very kind of you.” Rusty moved to settle on the bench beside you. Not close enough that he was pressed against your side but enough that you could feel the heat radiating from the man. A pleasant feeling. “How are you doing today, darling?”

“I'm good. How are you?” He looked tired. Had he come right from the road here? You wouldn't have been surprised. From your understanding, he lived further south on a nice quiet piece of land. It sounded like a little slice of heaven, if you could be honest. That felt like too much to say to the man, though, so it was a thought you kept to yourself. His eyes found you before flicking briefly to Michael.

“Got nothing to complain about.” Michael looked up and saw the man sitting beside you, and all else was immediately forgotten about, trucks abandoned in the sand to run over to you both.

“Are you Rusty?” Rusty leaned forward just a little bit, elbows resting against his knees.

“I am. You must be Michael.” Your son beamed at the recognition, lightly bouncing on his feet.

“Do you really drive a big truck?” Rusty chuckled softly at the eager question that came. Thankfully, he didn't seem bothered that Michael had launched right into the questioning. Others may have been.

“I do. Even drove it here. If your ma says it's, we can go look at it.” Michael's eyes widened almost impossibly large before his head whipped to you.

“Can we mom? Please?” He had never been in a real truck before. You could hear your friends voice screaming in your head about how terrible an idea it was, but at the same time, you truly felt no danger from the man and trusted that everything would be safe. There was also a worry that if you denied his request, the poor boy might just have spontaneous combust. There was a risk of that happening, too, with you agreeing. But it was a far better risk.

“Of course, but you have to listen to everything he says, okay? I don't want you getting hurt because you are so excited.”

“I promise.”

“No better time than now. Whatcha think, big man?” Michael was ecstatic, and the yes that came was both enthusiastic and loud. “Go get your stuff, and we'll go look at my truck.” If it had been a cartoon, there would have been burn marks trailing behind him. You couldn't help the small laugh and fond shake of your head. Your son was something else.

“I think you might have made his year.” He was leaning back, and before you knew it, his arm was around your shoulders. Heavy but fully pleasant. A sensation that you could get used to quickly.

“Now I just need to find out how to make yours.” The flirting tease had heat rising to your cheeks. There wasn't a quick response to that, and the floundering surely had to be clear to him. His warm breath ghosted over your cheek as his lips briefly pressed to the skin. “That blush is mighty cute, darling.” Yeah, he absolutely had you there. However, Michael came running back over and cut off anything else that might have been said. Standing up, you took the tiny hand that was held out to you. Though, you didn't move since Michael hesitated just a second before reaching his other out to Rusty.

Your heart melted as he didn't seem to take even a second to think about it. His large hand dwarfed Michael's, more so than your own. Then, the three of you were off to his truck.

Finding parking for the rig clearly hadn't been easy since it was a bit of a walk to where he had left it. Not that it seemed to matter all that much as your son's excitement filled the silence and the distance.

“You said it was black, right? Why black?” As soon as Rusty would finish answering one, another would come. “Does it have a really loud horn?” And so on it went until you came to the rig. You knew almost nothing about trucks, but the monster of a truck seemed to fit the man with you in an odd way. Rusty knelt down, letting go of Michael's hand.

“All right. Now, I know you promised your ma that you were going to listen. And we don't lie to ma, right?” Michael nodded, staring intently at the man. “Good. Now, I'm gonna have to pick you up to get in. I don't want you climbing yourself, trying to get in or out. It's a long way up, and you could get hurt if you do fall. I need you to hold on real tight. Can you do that?” Michael glanced at you, wanting the reassurance it seemed. There was a bit of that shy nature coming out.

“It’s okay, buddy.” Rusty waited patiently, his eyes not leaving Michael this time. “You don't have to if you don't want to, but if you want to see the inside of the truck, Rusty has to carry you up.”

“It's up to you.” Rusty backed up the fact that no one was forcing him to do anything that he didn't want to do. A few more seconds passed before Michael finally nodded.

“Okay.” His curiosity and eagerness about the truck had trumped the shyness.

“All right. Let me go get it unlocked and opened up, okay?” He pushed back up and moved off to his truck after shooting you a smile. You reached out to take the backpack from your son, kneeling down beside him to help soothe any of the nerves that he still had going on.

“This is exciting! Getting to go into a truck like that.” He nodded, eyes moving from the truck to you and back. “Everything's going to be okay.” Finally, a smile came to his face. That was more what you wanted to see. Rusty came wandering back over.

“Ready?”

“Yeah.” He knelt down so that Michael could come to him, lifting him up only when your son had wrapped his arms around the man's neck. You followed right alongside them, unable to help yourself from grinning as more excitement came forth from Michael. “Why don't you get in from the other side?” He suggested with a smile, one hand holding your son to him securely, the other wrapped around the grab handle. Nodding, you did just as suggested and moved to the other side of his truck, having to climb up a step before even opening the door.

“Wow…” Rusty was already settled into the driver seat, letting Michael look around at everything. From the wheel to the mirror and beyond. He was behaving well, not touching anything. Rusty shifted him so he was more seated in his lap.

“Go on, you can take a hold of the wheel, big man.” The gleeful laugh that came from him had the both of you smiling. His hands looked small against the wheel. In that moment, you reached for your phone to snap a picture, not even thinking to ask if the man would mind. It was just a moment that you wanted to capture.

“This is so cool.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Carefully, once Michael had his fill, Rusty set him to the side and motioned for him to head into the back of the cab, where a little bed was set up. It allowed him to explore the small space.

“Hope you don't mind me taking a picture…”

“Not at all, darling. Ya wanna see him get really excited?” Your cheeks actually hurt so much from smiling. It was the most that you had done since leaving the better part of three months ago. “Hey, Michael. You wanna honk the horn?” Michael scrambled back to the front so quickly that he nearly tripped and landed face first into the shifter. Rusty had managed to catch him just in time.

“Easy there, buddy. Don't need your first ride here to be a trip to the ER.” It was a bit astounding how good he was with your son, but you couldn't have asked for more in that moment. Nothing about this had been a mistake. And it wouldn't be moving forward with whatever happened to come between you and this man.

#horror writing #slasher writing #slasher x reader #slasher x you #rusty nail x reader #rusty nail joyride #rusty nail #joyride fic #joyride

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r0semultiverse · 2 months

Text

Mr. 6 made you do a good show to be released?? 👀 um....

This is already giving serious eye vibes.

A whole show dedicated to public humiliation?

The Mr. Bonzo suit started moving??? 👀 Serious stranger vibes. 🤡

"It actually became a sort of ritual"

I've seen people being like "don't cross tag" but buddy... the writing cross tags itself here I mean c'mon! 😂 Something something ritual of the stranger- okay, I'll keep listening!

Hey, what's with the music?? Hey, who is Terrance Menki???👀

"The police said there were eleven bodies in total and his wardrobe was full of all sorts of homemade costumes." BRO IS ACTUALLY MAGNUSPOD WILLIAM AFTON-

"It certainly had a profound effect on the Mr. Bonzo brand." Oh I'm sure it did, holy fucking shit. 👀

Oh, me using this image is rather ironic now.

"In a lot of ways I’m more his prisoner now than I ever was on my show." WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT? 👀

"The witness statements from three murders over the last five years that claim a person in a Mr. Bonzo costume was at the scene? Do you think there could be a copycat?" Has the fear of clowns manifested as an actual clown-guything?

"Don’t contact us again." "Us?" "Why am I still trapped dealing with all this this- Why won’t he let me go?! Why-" So Mr. Bonzo is absolutely a clown cryptid of sorts with some sort of hold over Nigel.

Oh no, Gwen's about to fuck around & find out, isn't she? 👀

Hey, is Colin still himself & is he supposed to be back?

Hmm, okay, I guess that's him (hopefully).

"Maybe don’t tell them I’ve been on their terminals. They’ll only get the wrong idea." "If Lena asks, I wasn’t here." Seems like everyone's got their own little secret investigations going on, fun! This can only go well! 🙃

One of the episodes absolutely no one shows up to work except Lena is there & is like "where the fuck did everyone go?"

"Time to get some new hires again I guess."

Let's go!! Ruin exploration gang!!

"Like, it’s Saturday night and I’m choosing to hang out in a hole with you. A wet hole. And not the good kind either."

Alice with the absolute best quotes. lmao

That sounds like something with giant wings like a bat or some sort of cloth flapping in the wind. Let's hope it's the latter!

Oh a rusty old filing cabinet! Wait tetanus- 😭

"That carved floor in the big atrium – I don’t know what’s going on with that." Ah so we're just gonna breeze past that then. 😶

These are probably the remnants of old avatar creation test areas like mentioned in the Gerry & Gertrude episode. I'm just assuming here.

A key? Big find! Let's go!

AS I WAS SAYING-

Gwen, it was nice knowing you. 🫡

"Now get out of his house."

Archivist! 👁👄👁

"symbols of ancient otherworldly power"

Wait could this be a timeline where this universe's Jane Prentiss actually did manage to invade the building & succeed? I'm thinking out loud.

21:10 that sounds like critters, insects specifically 👀

"I have memories of weird stuff I saw here, but no context. I want to know what was happening, why they chose us… why they didn’t choose me. Maybe find the bit where everything started to go wrong." I am so captivated & intrigued please recount said memories to us- I mean Alice so we can learn more. Please. 👀

EXCUSE ME, WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT?!? WHO IS "[ERROR]?"

WHY DO THEY SOUND DISTORTED AS FUCK?? ARE THEY FROM THE PRIME TIMELINE OR IS THIS A NEW THING?

ARE WE GAZING OUR EYES UPON A WRETCHED THING FROM THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES?!

edit:

Is Lucia Wright an avatar of The Flesh now (in this universe or from the original timeline somehow)? Because it sure fucking sounds like it! 👀 Well, at least that key was put to good use! 😂

Also, supposedly Mr. Bonzo is a reference to Mr. Blobby.

Gwen, I'd be quaking in my boots too. That thing is terrifying!

Late observation but this universe & story seems to focus a lot on the cryptids & I like the direction it's going in! Loving this plot of cryptid hunters, childhood avatar experiments, a strange institute where our main character has past trauma, & just all of it is so good! 💜

Amazing episode, 10/10, I was at the edge of my seat the entire time! 💜 That Bonzo scene & the sound design were absolutely horrifying, thank you! The ending too! 🔥

#nigel dickerson if you need help from mr. bonzo or mr. six please blink twice omg #what if bonzo & six are actually the same creature or entity of sorts?#someone keep an eye on Colin; I'm worried about him #that carved floor in the big atrium is gonna come back into importance I just know it #so Lena uses mr. bonzo as a hitman crytpid of sorts... & now Gwen is exposed to the occult #this episode is a lot... holy crap #these episode do not miss; oh my gods; hit after hit; every time!#worm tracks made me think of jane prentiss; I just made the connection #did lucia wright become an avatar of the flesh & invade this world or is she a left over experiment of the magnus institute #I can only hope Gwen Bouchard will tell the others about wtf she saw (likely against Lena's wishes)#tmagp liveblog #mine #op #tmagp 10 #tmagp #tmagp spoilers #tma spoilers #tma #the magnus protocol #the magnus archives

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theabominable · 2 years

Note

HEYY i saw you were taking fluff requests and could you do something with mc comforting mammon after the whole belphie incident in chapter 16? poor baby was so scared :(

it was nighttime in the devildom, and after what went down with belphie, you knew you weren't going to be able to get a wink of sleep at all. mindlessly scrolling through your DDD, you clicked on a picture of you and mammon posing from your camera roll.

you remembered. as you watched him hold your lifeless body in his arms while everyone stood around and panicked, all you could focus on was the sheer fear that had taken over his usually cool and unbothered face. his arms were shaking and his voice was all funny and weak - to think the avatar of greed would ever be seen like this over a human.

yet he wasn't just the avatar of greed in your eyes, but the endlessly caring mammon who listened and thought about your every word like no one had ever before. a sudden feeling of longing made you sit up and urged you to go to his room, but you didn't need to as his toned figure quietly walked through the door, pillow in hand.

he had done this a million times before, snuck into your room and layed down next to you before disappearing early the next morning as not to be caught by his brothers. this time it was different, instead of murmuring his usual excuse of, "m' room's too cold." mammon said nothing as tears rolled down his face and he layed down next to you.

"mammon?" you sleepily whisper. "what's wrong? did you have a nightmare?" you see him wipe some tears away.

"no." he says, turning around to face you. "just needed to check ya' still alive."

"oh." you lay down, and your faces are so close you can hear his shaky breaths. you could see it in his eyes he was scared half to death, and it's still showing even hours after the incident.

"m'okay, you know. i'm alive, and i'm safe so please don't worry about me."

"how am i meant to know that? i saw you, right there in my arms, not moving."

you reach out and stroke his hair, and although mammon is surprised by the touch he welcomes the comforting feeling.

"if i wasn't alive and okay, how would i be here right now?"

"that's true.. i guess. can i double check?"

"double check? how?"

"can you just hold me?"

you nearly cry at how soft his voice is so you bring him close to your chest and gently kiss his head over and over.

"oh mammon, i'm so sorry. you know i'd never leave you."

it seems mammon crumbles at these words as he holds you tighter and lets out a quiet sob. "i know ya wouldn't. ya better not ever do that to me again, you hear me? i promised to protect you."

"i won't, i won't." you whisper as you gently wipe away his tears.

there's nothing else to be said as you drift off to sleep together finally feeling at peace again.

a/n: is it just me or was mammon the most concerned out of all of them about us being dead like they were just like "omg this is awful!" while mammon was on the verge of a breakdown .idk anyway enjoy sorry if my writings a lil rusty :(

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me fluff #obey me angst #obey me mammon #mammon #mammon x reader #obey me mammon x reader #om mammon #om mammon x reader #om x reader #obey me mammon x mc

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because-of-a-friend · 1 year

Text

Band-Aid

MASTERLIST

Hi guys, I’m back! Sorry I was gone for so long, I got so busy this past year, I thought I might have to retire this blog for good. But I’m going to try and make time for it, let’s hope it works out this time!

Disclaimer: It has been a LONG time since I’ve written ~anything~ so I am plenty rusty lol.

Thanks for the request anon! This is such a cute prompt! Hope I delivered! After this I’ll have four drafts left and then I can answer the requests in my inbox!

Warnings: Mentions injuries/illnesses, blood, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 1k

Remember that gifs aren’t mine! If you like them, pls click through to show their OPs some love!

You have to laugh as Seungcheol loudly announces to Jeonghan that his head is hurting

You two have been going through this cycle since you were first hired a few months ago

At the beginning, Coups had an excuse to talk to you all the time

Since you were new to the team, he took point on explaining important info to you

What allergies the boys had

Previous injuries you needed to be aware of

Where they generally kept their first-aid supplies

But once you had it all down, there was no reason for him to talk to you on a daily basis

But by this point, Cheol had realized that he very much liked speaking to you

He felt that you two had connected well and wanted to get to know you more

But since you were on the med team, you were often quite busy seeing as there were thirteen members that were in constant need of check-ups, aid with different levels of injuries, and general everyday care to combat the strain they put on their bodies

You hardly ever had time to just speak to him

The only time you really could

Was when you were treating him

So Seungcheol had started to come up with any excuse under the sun to come and talk to you

First he was constantly complaining that he must have sprained his wrist, or twisted his ankle or pulled a muscle

Then he was constantly getting stomache aches

After that he was getting rashes or little scratches

Now he was in a phase of faking headaches to come and talk to you about it

You knew all of his injuries were fake from the very beginning

He stopped cradling his first “sprained wrist” to tell Seungkwan off for being too loud

He ate full meals that the other boys ordered even when he had his “stomach aches”

You had started carrying around makeup wipes to clean off his supposed “scratches and rashes”

Someone complaining of a headache was a little harder to disprove though

But you were sure you’d catch him somehow

You had begun to enjoy playing this little game with him

As well as the time you got to spend with him because of it

“Well you don’t have a fever,” you tucked your thermometer back into your medical bag

Seungcheol sat in front of you with a pout on his face

“Are there any other symptoms?” you ask

Seungcheol dutifully shakes his head

“Well do you want a pain reliever? Or maybe I should tell them to send you home and rest?” you feel his forehead once more for good measure

“Oh...” he hesitates, “I don’t think it’s serious enough for either of those...”

You smile to yourself

It was quite cute to watch him fumble with trying to feign sickness without exposing himself

“Well should we schedule an appointment with a neurologist to make sure this isn’t a problem?” you push him further

“No, you take care of me well enough” Seungcheol beams

“Well we have to find a solution eventually,” you sigh. “How’s your water intake? Or did you add anything new to your diet? Increase your screentime?”

“No, they just started out of nowhere,” Seungcheol shrugs innocently

“Well I suppose I can let you go for today but, if it happens again, I’m sending you to the doctor”

“[Y/N]!” one of the managers calls for you. “We need your help prepping supplies for the next concert.”

You give Cheol a bit of a smug look, knowing you’ve backed him into a corner with his latest fake sickness and then

You rush off to help

Seungcheol sighs as he watches you leave

He just lost another excuse to spend time with you

Later that evening Joshua watches with pure amusement as Seungcheol paces back and forth in the dorm

“Should I say I think I have a sinus infection? Or maybe I could claim of frequent muscle spasms... I feel like constipation has to be my last move.”

“I feel like constipation is a never move,” Joshua interrupted. “Just tell [Y/N] that you like them.”

“I can’t do that, what if they don’t even like me?” Seungcheol complains

“Well then you have an answer and you can stop wasting both of your time,” Josh shrugs

“Wasting time,” Seungcheol repeats. “What if they really don’t like me and I’ve just been annoying [Y/N] this whole time?”

He hates the feeling settling in the pit of his stomach

He begins to remember all the times you would shut him down as quick as possible

Or when you would rush off to help someone else as soon as you were done exposing a fake injury of his

How you would sigh and roll your eyes before walking away

Apparently he failed to notice the playful look on your face as you did so

“What? I don’t think [Y/N] would put up with it if you were truly wasting their time,” Joshua protests

“No, I really should stop. It’s [Y/N]’s job and I should leave them alone to do it. Let’s just start getting ready for the concert tomorrow”

Seungcheol’s mood is noticably down for rehearsals the next day

The other boys are off because of it and they’re trying all they can to cheer him up

You notice as well and begin to wonder if Seungcheol is genuinely sick for once

And then you feel really worried because he usually would use any excuse to come speak to you but he’s not even trying to mention what’s obviously bothering him

“Are you feeling alright?” you corner him, once again pressing a hand to his forehead

“I am, just worried about this performance,” Cheol reaches up to grab your hand, his thumb pressing into your palm as he pulls it away from his head

Then he just walks off

You feel really uneasy about the concert

Everyone else does too

Seungcheol may not be exhibiting any symptoms of sickness but it’s obvious he’s distracted and not ready to perform

Anxieties rise throughout the day but quickly stave off as the concert begins

As usual, Seventeen pulls through and the concert goes well

Even with Cheol somewhat distracted

But the good feelings end as quickly as they begin

When Cheol falls during a song

At first it looks like just a simple stumble

But as your watching the big screen, you see the horrified expression form on Seungkwan’s face as he looks down at his leader

You rush to the side of the stage as the other members help him off

They set him down on a chair in front of you and run back off to do crowd control

You quickly see why Seungkwan had seemed so disturbed

When Cheol had tripped, he had fallen against one of the stage props and scraped up his shin

The wound didn’t seem deep but it was large and producing plenty of blood

Coups feels terrible

Not even 24 hours after he decided to leave you alone

And here is a situation where you have to be with him

He can’t even think of his injury

He can only think of how he’s going to apologize and get out of your hair

He’s tested ten different apologies in his head before he actually looks at you

Your hands are gentle as you clean the blood and sanitize the wound

Cheol notices how you hesitate everytime you rub the disinfectant over his leg, seeing if it’ll cause him pain or not

There is a time where it does sting and he sucks in his breath

You look up at him and Cheol’s heart clenches

You look so worried

Your eyebrows are furrowed and there’s sweat on your forehead

“Does it hurt a lot? I promise I’m almost done” you say

Your voice is so genuine and kind

Cheol has to stop himself from grinning at how sweet and caring you’re being

“I’m ok, do what you need to do”

You wrap the bandages carefully once the wound is clean, even going back over where you feel you didn’t do a good enough job

“Does that feel ok?” you stand and put a hand on his shoulder, indicating with your other hand that he should move his leg and test the wrappings

He nods, “Thank you”

Then he gets up and heads towards the stage

“Woah,” you stop him with a hand on his chest, “where are you going?”

He grabs your hand the same way, a thumb pressed to your palm, but he doesn’t move it away from him this time

“Back out,” he gives you the smile he uses when he wants something

“You can’t go back out there,” you insist, hoping he can’t feel how warm you’re getting while he holds your hand

“It would be best for the fans to see that I’m ok,” Cheol says more seriously this time

You think it over

“...You’ll have to sit in a chair for the rest of the performance,” you insist

“I’ll accept that with my own condition,” Cheol is beaming at you again

“And what would that be?” you laugh

“I take you to dinner after”

Before you can respond, he pulls you towards him, kisses your cheek, and runs off onto the stage with a chair

And your hand flies to your own forehead to check your tempertature

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syoddeye · 5 months

Text

According to Plan / Part One

Finally got around to acting on this idea. Something to work on between chapters of For the Record. Think it'll be good practice.

Part one of Gaz getting leave to go on a rare holiday with his moms. He's put in the work to make the vacation absolutely perfect, but then he meets an American girl, and things just keep. Going. Wrong.

No smut. Yet.

My Italian is incredibly rusty. I am so sorry lol

The title may change I couldn't think of one :/

Mama's boy.

A phrase thrown at Gaz so often since he could remember it barely fazed him. He had a perfectly healthy relationship with his mums, thanks. He'd seen enough in his tenure in the SAS and the 141 that he knew he was lucky to have a family that liked one another, let alone a family at all. So when the opportunity for a two-week leave popped up on the horizon, he set his sights and strategized.

It took months and a level of coordination that surely rivaled Laswell, but he pulled off Operation Sorpresa. A tremendous success, he thought, to not only secure all the details but to ensure the dates aligned with the work schedules of both of his mothers.

He'd logged in for their usual video chat (weekly, when possible), and let them believe he was coming home the following month. The looks on their faces when he casually mentioned that he wasn't coming to visit them. They were going to meet him in Italy, in a little town called Florence.

All the planning proved worth it with their outrageous reactions.

With an art history professor and a fabrication instructor for mums, it was the perfect destination. And with his planning, it would be the perfect trip. He booked the best hotels and restaurants he could afford. Reserved tickets to museums and half a dozen tours, in and outside of the city. Just him and his two favorite people, exploring the cradle of the Renaissance.

'Course, the day he arrived, nearly knocked out by jet lag, there'd been an issue with the hotel reservation. Overbooked, dispiace, the receptionist explained, But we can accommodate you at our boutique hotel across the Arno. It wasn't the city center like he wanted, but he rolled with the change, hauling all three of their bags across the Ponte Sante Trinita without too much complaint.

"Kyle, would it be too much trouble for you to run out and find ibuprofen? I'm not acclimated to all the walking just yet," His mother, Helen, asked. She was crammed into the elevator with his other mum, Rebecca, and their bags.

He'd need one, too, given the combined weight of their bags. "Can do. I'll just put my things in my room and pop out."

Whatever they wanted, he'd see it done. It was the least he could do, given the fact they were his mothers. Practically saints, what with their endless font of patience for both raising him and never asking too much about work.

After butchering a conversation with two different shopkeepers, he returned to the hotel, tucked between what appeared to be a real estate office and a bistro. Eager to get his mothers moving to their dinner plans, he opened the ancient wooden door and–

What's this?

The tired hotel clerk and a young woman were absorbed in a frankly concerningly energetic conversation (argument?) at the tiny reception desk. He couldn't see her face, only that she looked…fancy. Overdressed, at least to him. She gripped the strap of a leather bag slung over her shoulder, knuckles nearly white. He couldn't understand a lick of what they were saying. Definitely nothing about apples or his non-existent niece's shoes. Thank you, worthless language app.

Her hand slapped down on the desk, and she shouted something that made the clerk's half-lidded eyes pop open. Was that…English? Italglish?

Gaz couldn't help himself.

"Hey, you," He said, crossing the small 'lobby' with the shop bag still in hand. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm pretty sure you can't just–"

The woman turned, face pinching into a confused expression as she saw him approach. "Excuse me?" She asked, this time in perfect English. Immediately, Gaz clocked her as American.

"You're yelling at the clerk. Anyone ever teach you that's rude?" He arched a brow, eyes raking over her face. She couldn't be a year or two younger or older than him.

The woman's eyebrows rose. She registered what he was saying, then glanced back at the clerk, who met her eye with a similarly confused look. Slowly, their expressions changed, and the pair broke into laughter.

"Pensa che stiamo litigando?" The clerk asked.

"Credo di si. Un momento."

One moment. Gaz got that. He stood, eyes darting between them expectantly. The tips of his ears heated in slight embarrassment from their laughter.

The woman turned back, head tilted. "We're not arguing," It was her turn to study him. "Is this your first time in Italy? Because this," She gestured between herself and the uniformed man. "Is a normal conversation."

Gaz frowned slightly, not exactly believing her, but now felt a little silly. "It didn't sound like that."

She grinned, a bit too smug for his tastes. "I was telling him a story about a group of English tourists making asses of themselves. Is that normal? If we're making assumptions and all."

It annoyed him how quick she was with the comment, but worse was how his lip curled in a smile before he could stop it. "I get it. Apologies."

"No harm done. Can't complain about a man who'd step in to defend a stranger like that," She said and glanced down at the shopping bag. "If you need more medicine, turn left outside the hotel and head down two blocks to Farmacia San Felice. Better prices." With that, she returned to the clerk to continue their lively conversation.

Gaz's grip tightened defensively, thinking he did a pretty decent job with his errand, then turned away to go upstairs to deliver the medicine to his mother.

The young woman and clerk watched him go. She couldn't help but admire how fit the man was, even if his Union Jack ballcap was ridiculous.

"Che muscoli," The clerk murmured.

"Infatti," She agreed, eyes lingering until he disappeared from view.

Translations:

Pensa che stiamo litigando? // Does he think we're arguing? Credo di si. Un momento. // I think so. One moment. Che muscoli. // What muscles. Infatti. // Indeed.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #kyle 'gaz' garrick #gaz x reader #gaz x y/n #gaz x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x y/n

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xbarrjallenx · 2 years

Text

Dancing At A Funeral

Pairing: Ben Hargreeves x Gender-Neutral!Reader Summary: (Y/N) reminisced some of their memories with Ben during his funeral. Requested: Yes / No Word count: 2.592 Posted: 23.06.2022 Warning(s): Ben’s death, fluff, grief, mentions of blood, season two spoilers, unedited imagine Song inspiration: Good Grief - Bastille A/N: I wrote this imagine way back in 2020, after finishing Season 2, so it’s been sitting in my drafts for way too long and just posting it to celebrate Season 3. Yay! It’s too long, I know, but I hope you still like it. Also, should I keep this with Vanya or should I change to Viktor now? The happening dates back to Season 1, so I am not sure. Feedbacks are always appreciated, because my writing is very rusty. Help your girl to improve, please! Also, English is not my first language, so mistakes can be found. I’m sorry and thank you! - G. x Take note: (Y/N) and the Hargreeves siblings were twenty-one years old during the funeral.

It was one gloomy afternoon for six loving young adults: five of them were his extraordinary siblings and the remaining one was you, his beloved best friend.

The group was still shaken up for the heartbreaking news, but all of you managed to suppress the overflowing emotions by putting up your best poker face whilst you formed two neat semi-circles on both sides of his snow-covered casket.

“Why don’t you ever talk to your siblings about your feelings? Look at you right now: messy and all over the place.” You questioned while you pulled him in a gentle and comforting embrace.

“Emotions aren’t welcomed nor appreciated in the Hargreeves’ household, (Y/N). We’re all messed up, my siblings are just stronger than me.” He calmly informed you, lingering the warmth and comfort that your body emitted.

Ben Hargreeves - the sweetest and the most caring person that you have ever met in your life. He was loyal and understanding, an extraordinary person, abilities and character-wise.

“(Y/N), is everything all right?” Vanya derailed your train of thoughts, noticing how fixated your eyes were on your best friend’s picture - he seemed so happy and light-hearted.

“Yes. Thank you, Vanya!” You forcefully smiled, glancing at her with your slightly watery eyes. You were glad that she was still concerned about you, even though you barely saw her when Ben was still alive.

The rest of the Hargreeves siblings gave you a solace stare soon after, silently letting you know that they had your back at all times. It was a cold and snowy day, but their kindness and sympathy were enough to warm your body and your miserable heart.

“Kudos to you for staying strong, (Y/N)!” Klaus proudly exclaimed, slightly making you smile for his kind remarks.

Klaus. Klaus was the most supportive Hargreeves ever. He was the contrary of Ben, who was introvert, silent and shy. Klaus was rather extrovert, dorky and talkative. In fact, when the former wasn’t in the mood of talking, he was more of a listener, the latter was your companion on sputtering nonsense.

You were very grateful of them, Ben and Klaus were surely the reason that you have met each other, that you have become friends.

“Hey, dear!” A boy about your age startled you as he approached you whilst you bit on you calorie bomb pastry. “I’m so sorry to scare you, but I want to inform you that you have a stalker over there.” He pointed a booth with six twelve year olds, wearing immaculate and familiar uniforms: The Umbrella Academy.

They were famous. Well, the daily news were always full of them, so it was impossible to not acknowledge them.

“Excuse me?” You confusedly corrugated your forehead as you put your dessert back on its plate. “Aren’t you part of that group?”

He hummed and nodded. “Yes, but do you see that little kid there: shiny jet black hair, cute almond eyes, so handsome?” He moved his hands as he sincerely described the boy. “He’s my brother and he’s been admiring you since we came in.”

“That’s creepy, but he’s cute.” You chuckled as you waved your hands towards the children’s direction and the concerned boy covered his face with his both hands out of embarrassment, watching you and his brother through his fingers.

That moment was the beginning of your friendship with the Hargreeves siblings and, as they snuck out of their house almost every night to meet you at Griddy’s Doughnuts, you slowly learnt everything about them: from how their superpowers functioned to how dysfunctional their family was.

Although you got along very well with all of them, it was needless to say that your relationship with Ben, Klaus and Vanya were stronger. They were the most vulnerable ones in the Academy and they were never afraid to open up to you.

The friendship was amazing and it quickly grew, but, as the years went by, you also started falling apart - less siblings came to your daily meet ups, until Ben and Klaus were the only ones left. It didn’t mean that you hated the other siblings, though, you were still very fond of them, you were just not as close as before.

“Your bed is so soft!” Klaus exhaustedly commented as he messily plopped himself on your bed. The three of you decided to change your location since the pastries at Griddy’s Doughnuts started making you feel nauseous. You surely have tasted everything in that diner!

“Bookworm!” Ben shrieked at the sight of your huge book collection - it was his comfort object, mostly after using his powers during a mission.

Your friendship was not rocket science at all: they found their comfort person and they were grateful to have you. You were their only best friend and they perfectly knew that they could count on you, and vice versa. They were your safe haven, the ones who kept you safe and warm, and you were their pole star, the one who guided them when they were feeling lost or overwhelmed of their powers and Dad’s rules.

The two teenagers enjoyed visiting you almost every night, sometimes both of them would knock on your window, most times it would just be Ben, but never only Klaus, until one day, that very specific day.

“(Y/N)!” A trembling Klaus entered your window, despair and sorrow behind his voice. “(Y/N)!”

He was shaken up and felt uneasy. You were almost sure that something bad has happened in the Academy. “Klaus, breathe. Settle down and we’ll talk about it.”

You gave him your water bottle, letting him catch his breath. “(Y/N).”

“Klaus, take your time.” You gently announced, calming him down as you rubbed his back. What could have possibly happened? Nothing really bad, you hoped.

You both remained in silence for a little while - Klaus defeated his breathlessness and you watched him as he halted his emotions from spilling.

“Are you ready?” You carefully asked, getting the empty water bottle from Klaus’ hand. He just nodded in response. “All right, slowly and calmly.”

He started trembling once again and you continued rubbing his back, letting him know that he was not alone. He hardly swallowed as he gathered his courage to tell you everything.

You started panicking by seeing his actions, but you were the fortress between the two of you, you couldn’t break nor fall. Not right now.

“Something in the mission went wrong,” He sadly started, staring straightly in your eyes. “and Ben is gone.”

A big lump in your throat suddenly formed and it was very hard to swallow. Your shoulders fell down like teardrops, salted water started streaming down your face and your world fell apart.

Your hand and knees started to shake, not knowing how to take the news in. “It’s not a good joke, Klaus. You are lying!” You blurted out, eyes started to sting badly.

Ben meant so much to you and he perfectly knew it. He couldn’t just come over and joke about Ben’s life, it was illegal.

“(Y/N), honey.” Klaus engulfed you in a comforting hug, calming you down as you started to messily sob against the crook of his neck. You were hurt and your chest was so tight, heart breaking in small smithereens - he was now the one who needed to stay strong, for the both of you. “Yes, I know, I know. Just let it out, don’t be afraid.”

Well, so much for being the fortress. You felt that you weren’t strong, not at all - the enemy has attacked you one time and you quickly fell, you quickly broke. Ben and Klaus were the ones who gave you strength, but one of them brought all of it with him, in his grave.

“(Y/N),” A deep voice quickly shooed your thoughts away: Sir Reginald Hargreeves. “would you like to say a few words?”

You were so busy in reminiscing that you didn’t notice Reginald, Grace and Pogo arriving. Those memories with Ben made you happy, but a huge horde of sadness washed you away once the old man brought you back to reality: Ben was still dead.

Reginald Hargreeves never liked you and it was strange that he didn’t throw a fit as soon as he saw you in one of his kids’ funeral - perhaps it was out of respect for Ben. He has always reputed you as a bad influence to his children, mostly to Ben, but the teenagers stood up for you uncountable times, breaking the rules just to see you and Ben happy and smiling.

“No, Sir Hargreeves. Thank you!” Your voice broke in the middle of the short sentence and the siblings hastily gave you a comforting look, nonetheless their distressed faces. They hated seeing you suffer, just as much as you all hated Reginald and that meant a really lot.

The old man nodded in response and, as soon as he started walking back inside his mansion, Grace and Pogo following soon after, the sobbing of the Academy members intensified, pouring their hearts out whilst tears uncontrollably streamed down their faces.

“It’s nobody’s fault!” Vanya strongly pointed out, trying to make her siblings feel better after the eulogy that you have just missed.

“How would you know, Vanya? You weren’t even on the mission.” Diego sputtered and your heart ached at Vanya’s failed attempt of consoling her siblings.

Vanya softly gasped, tightly holding her black umbrella before leaving the courtyard. She must have felt left out, again.

“Nice going, asshole!” Luther fiercely spat, defending Vanya - a thing that Ben usually did.

You faced the remaining siblings and they started arguing between them again, sending you back to remembering your memories of Ben, of how he would run to your house to avoid his siblings’ futile fight.

“Hey, can I stay for a little while with you?” He shyly asked, hoping you wouldn’t turn his request down.

“Are your siblings fighting again?” You empathically questioned him, putting down the book that you were reading on your desk.

“Unfortunately.” His shoulders dropped down, sadly looking in your eyes. It hurt him to see his siblings argue over everything.

You smiled at him and put a vinyl record on your player, Stand By Me, sung by Ben E. King, starting. “I dedicate this song to you, Benerino!”

He quickly smiled and hummed to the song, both of you proudly singing when the chorus would come.

“Thank you.” He quietly murmured in your ear after you pulled him into a heartwarming hug.

You missed him. You missed him so damn much.

“(Y/N),” Klaus softly called you, thread of thoughts cut once again. “shall we dance?”

You raised an eyebrow and the waterworks turned on once again: Vanya was playing Stand By Me with her violin and Klaus remembered how Ben would ask you to dance whenever his favourite song played.

“Gladly!” You grabbed Klaus’ hand, letting go of your umbrella, snow flakes quickly resting on your head and shoulders.

You and Klaus slowly danced around Ben’s coffin. It seemed like you two were celebrating that the Horror was gone, but you were just cherishing the memories you shared with his beloved brother.

“Dad’s not around anymore, you can let your tears fall freely.” Klaus reminded you, knowing how much you were trying to contain your emotions.

“I just miss him, Klaus,” You truthfully admitted. “I miss him so much.”

Klaus’ glance shifted from you to something behind you, but he still listened to your confession. “I am sure that he misses you, too.”

When the song finished, you asked the boy to leave you for a little while, wanting to talk to the unanimated Ben for a few minutes. He gladly respected you decision and he went towards the gazebo, eyes fixated on you, or maybe on the empty spot next to you. Your eyes were blurry because of the tears, so you couldn’t really figure it out.

“Hey, Benerino!” You sweetly chuckled as you caressed the photo on his casket, snow slowly melting because of your hand’s warmth. “You’re gone too soon, but I hope you feel better wherever you are right now, albeit I still think that it’s just unfair. What’s going to be left of the world, if you’re not in it, huh?”

The thought of not growing old with him destroyed you. You were perfect for each other, you had loads of amazing things with him, and you wished you had Klaus’ powers to conjure Ben up. You wanted to see him again.

“You’ll be now missing from the photographs in the mansion. You gave me another reason to stop coming in this hellhole.” You softly laughed.

God, how much you missed hearing his laugh after your horrible jokes and puns.

“I’ve always told you to take care, Hargreeves.” You frowned. “We’d be on my bed right now, laughing and cuddling to battle the cold whilst Klaus intoxicated us with his messily rolled joint.”

You hated it when Klaus was drugged, but it was the anaesthesia to his awful life.

“Ben, I am so sorry if I never had the courage to tell you this, but I love you so much. I love you more than anything in my life and it just hurts because you would never know anything about it and I would never know what you think about it.” You messily wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

“(Y/N)!” A Ben Hargreeves covered in dried blood approached you as soon as he entered your window. Your eyes nearly popped out of their orbit at the sight of him and you rushed towards his direction, wanting to engulf him in a huge bear-hug. “Don’t!”

You feigned offence and raised an eyebrow. “All right, but, at least, tell me that none of it is yours.”

He quietly chuckled, softly shaking his head. “Don’t you worry about it.”

“Well, thank goodness!” You sighed in relief. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He refused at first, but he caved in soon after. He came up to the terms that he couldn’t hug you if he was covered in blood and vice versa.

“You know, I’m the one with superpowers here, but you are way more powerful than me.” He confessed as you both plopped yourselves on your bed.

“How could you even say that, dummy?” You wondered, looking at his perfect face.

His face turned serious. “You perfectly know how I feel about myself after a mission, after killing people,” Absolutely! He would be disgusted to the point of despising his powers and existence. “but just with the sight of your gleeful smile, I already feel better and stronger.”

Ben was able to make you smile widely, thinking that he was very sweet to say those words. Little did you know he has just professed the feelings he had for you.

“Thank you so much for these nine years of friendship, Ben.” You shortly nodded. “You have been an awesome best friend.”

As soon as you finished, you called Klaus. He was looking on the spot next to you and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Are you fine, Klaus?” You gently checked on the Séance, worrying about his sanity. “Are ghosts bothering you again?”

“Please don’t forget him.” He blurted out, ignoring your questions. Was Ben around you? Did he conjure him?

You shook your head to stop yourself from being delusional and answered Klaus. “How can I forget him? Every minute and every hour, I miss him, I miss him more.”

#ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy x reader #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #netflix #xbarrjallenx #justin min #justin min x reader

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dark-elf-writes · 1 year

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Granny Rin feeling so fucking validated in her hatred of the third when she sees Naruto’s everything. Just like I fucking knew it. I knew it before all you bitches. I took one look as his crusty musty dusty rusty face and knew it in my soul. Because fucking finally. A situation not absolutely layered in moral ambiguity that she can talk about. And he still fucked it up. She honestly thinks the only good that man ever did was appoint Minato as Hokage. Well that and die.

Grandma Rin off to the side watching Orochimaru kill her sworn enemy:

The day Aki tells her she breaks into Hiruzen’s office somehow managing to get around the ANBU and other guards and points at him with a jeweled hair stick sharp enough to kill just “I knew you were the worst sort but I didn’t know this would be how your proved me right you pathetic excuse of a man. The best thing you ever did for this village was step down for that child’s father and then you spit on his memory by treating his son like that?”

And Hiruzen is old. He’s tired. He, frankly, is aware of just how badly he dropped the ball and knows that his successor is very likely going to hunt him through the pure land for everything he has done to his child.

“So you’re claiming him?”

“My grandson is, and you will not stop him.”

“You know what he is.”

“He is a boy, Hiruzen. Not a weapon. Not a demon. A child that has been alone since the day he was born.”

He doesn’t look at her. He knows. He knows. “The elders won’t like it.”

“The elders can suck my left-“

“Rin.”

“You won’t take him from us.”

“I won’t, but you have to be aware—“

“I am aware of far more than you are you old sack of bones. Let me worry about my flowers and you look the other way.”

Hiruzen is old. He’s tired. He knows even if he is the god of Shinobi this is the one fight he will not win. “Fine.”

Rin doesn’t smile at him. never has. “Good.”

She’s gone before he can think of anything else to say. More silent than even his ANBU guards that should have stopped her on her way in.

#the elf talks #naruto #red lights and fox fire au #during the invasion it’s just #orochimaru currently impaling Hiruze: What’s poppin #Rin with popcorn: don’t mind me just watchin

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arknights-imagines · 4 months

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Mini Update 💞👍

Hiya everyone sgsugs 💕! It's Exe! I hope you're all well 🙏

I wanted to post a small update on what I have planned and such svshs 🥺

Firstly, I've started work on a new piece for the blog 🥰 I'm a little nervous as I feel a little rusty from writing, but I'll try my best as always for you guys aaa 🙏 it's for a request recently sent in for a scenario with non-alternate Executor/'Rico (I figured it was only fitting that the first thing I have up for the blog after so long is something for 'Rico 🥺), and I hope you have it out as soon as I can so I can finally have new stuff posted 😭!!

Secondly, in the meantime, please do remember my requests are always open sgsugs 🙏 I'm especially hoping for some right now, now that I'm back...! I do have much older requests that I'd possibly like to do, however I would appreciate new and fresh ones lots, especially considering all the new characters that released while I was away aaa

There are lots of characters I've wanted to write for, however never got the chance (such as Enforcer, Lumen, Shalem, and Kazemaru, Ling, Fiammetta sgsugs 🥺 there's lots I wanted to write for before I had to leave...! 😞)

While a lot of them are already long-released, I'd still like to have a chance with their characters aaa 🥺 I appreciate any requests v v much and even if I can't get to all of them, I read each one and am thankful for each one 😭💞

Lastly, my birthday is in a few days sgsugs on January 7th 🥳💞!!! I will most likely be less active on that day and the day before for celebrating 🥺 (birthdays are always big celebrations with my family and friends svhsgshs!), so please excuse me aaa!

Ofc, I will be back as usual after that time 🙏

I think that's all for now 🥺!

Thank you v much to all of you for your time, and for your patience with me 💞!!

Remember to take care of yourself and that 'Rico and myself love all of you lots sjosjj 🥰!

Please have a good day 💘!

Art is a commission by @/claradeso on Twitter!

Yours Truly,

- An Exe who hopes everyone's new year has been going well so far 🎉

#arknights #arknights imagines #not an imagine #blog update

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idk6123 · 3 months

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The White Heron Ball (Dimitri X Male Reader)

“Professor, I beg of you. Please, do not choose me as our house representative. I am utterly serious.” And that’s when the problem started. “What?! Curse you, professor. I will of course accept but know that you have damned us all.”

And so, after the event, an official Blue Lions meeting has been started. Inside of the classroom, the entire original group are all standing around to figure out what to do with the dreading situation.

“I just can’t believe it. I begged to the professor, and yet they choose me. Why?”

“They probably wanted to be humored.” Felix coldly says.

Ingrid looks besides her with a glare. “Not now Felix. This is serious.”

“It’s just a ball.” Felix merely responds. “Just do it and lose. Who cares?”

“This isn’t just about the ball. This is about our pride.” Ashe corrects him.

“He’s right. If he loses, that will look bad on us.” Sylvain agrees.

“My apologies in advance.” Dimitri apologetically says.

“No need to apologize.” Dedue assures. “We’re in the same boat, so we must share the burden.”

“You say that, but we aren’t the ones on the dancefloor.” Annette looks unsure at the retainer.

“Even so, we can offer our support.” Mercedes positively smiles.

“Mercedes is right.” Dimitri feels a bit more secured thanks to everyone’s support, well, everyone except Felix. “Perhaps with some dedicated training, there is going to be a chance I can win. I just need to learn how to dance.”

There is a silence in the room, as everyone looks awkwardly stiff.

“I’m sorry my lord, but if I knew this would happen, I certainly learn how to dance.” Dedue says.

“I was always more interested to learn how to fight.” Ingrid admits.

“I can try, but I doubt it would be much help.” Mercedes says with a frown.

Dimitri sighs. “I guess nobody knows how to dance.”

“I do.” Everyone eyes lay on Y/N. “My parents always love to throw balls. I basically grew up with them.”

“You do?” Dimitri looks amazed. “Do you think you can teach me?”

“Of course. Know that since we have only less than 2 weeks, you’re technique will be… clunky.”

“I just have to accept that.” Dimitri is quick to scoff that aside. “So? When do you think we can train?”

“How about now?”

In the courtyard, Dimitri is awkwardly looking around as Y/N begins his first lessons as a dance teacher.

“You will be leading, which is I usually do, so please excuse me if I get confused.” He walks over to Dimitri, right in front of him, making Dimitri a bit flustered. “With your right hand, you grab mine. While on at the left hand, grab my hip.”

“You’re hip?” Dimitri looks a bit gasp but doesn’t complain. With silence, he merely does what Y/N instructed.

“You need to hold me tightly. Imagine how tightly you grab your lance.”

“A-Alright.” Dimitri mutters. Holding Y/N tighter, they get to basic pose.

“This is the base. As long as you hold me like this, everything else falls into place. First though, we’re doing the basics.” Y/N says. “Now, follow my movement.”

And so, Dimitri carefully follows Y/N’s instructions. His eyes keep looking on the ground. Both because he wants to his movement, and he doesn’t want to see his partner’s eyes. It starts out slowly, with the prince carefully moving. However, as he repeats the moves, he goes a bit faster and faster. After several minutes, the two take a break.

“And? Did I do good?”

“You were good as a beginner.” Y/N complements him. “You were a bit rusty, but we work on that.” From behind Dimitri, Y/N sees the other teachers, as well the students that Dimitri is going to compete with. “Oh no.”

“What is wrong?”

“I didn’t consider your opponents…”

Dimitri turns around and instantly gets what he’s worried about. At the Golden Deer, being led by Hanneman, is Hilda, one of the most charming person in the school. To make things worse is at the Black Eagles, being teach by Manuela herself, is no other than the songstress Dorothea. Both girls definitely have more experience with this, whether it's dancing, or looking mesmerizing.

“I’m going to lose. Aren’t I?”

“Don’t say that yet.” Y/N wants to motivate him, though he knows the chances of him winning is very low.

“I’m competing against an opera songstress and one of the most charming girls in the school.” Dimitri says with a frown.

Y/N sighs. “Fine. Yes, we’re screwed, but we still need to try. Imagine this is a battlefield. You see multiple strong opponents. What would you do?”

“I fight. The least I could do is give it a shot.” Dimitri then looks a bit happier. “I have to say, I still have my doubts, but I shouldn’t give up. Please Y/N, teach me further.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Days has passed. Every day, Dimitri takes time to practice his technique with Y/N. First starting with the basics, and later keep adding one thing to refine his movement. That leads them to the White Heron Cup. Every student is in the large hall, all awaiting for their house to participate and win. In one corner, the Blue Lions await anxiously, especially their leader.

“You got this. I just know you’re going to win.”

“Thanks Mercedes. I give it my all, but I feel like I’m outmatch.” Dimitri was pretty confident in his ability until the day actually came. That’s when he began to feel nervous.

“At least you know that. But there is no shame with losing to these gorgeous girls.” Sylvain casually comments.

“I think Sylvain was trying to say, even if you lose, we’re still proud of you.” Ingrid corrects her friend.

“Just remember the technique.” Y/N reminds the blonde lord. “If it helps, imagine you’re dancing with me.”

“That just sound wrong.” Sylvain chuckles. “…Or right depending on his highness.”

“What does that supposed to mean?” Dimitri looks a bit flabbergasted.

Before Sylvain could clarify, their teacher walks up to the group. “It’s time. Good luck, Dimitri.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

As everyone stand at the side, the three participants head to the center. Alongside them are the judges, Alios, Shamir and Manuela. Along the three students, Dimitri looks the most nervous. It doesn’t help that Dorothea merely looks like this is her casual day and Hilda just smirking happily. After the announcement, featuring Alios, the crowd cheers for the three students.

“Very well… BEGIN!”

With elegant music playing in the background, the three students begin gracefully move around. Surprisingly, Dimitri isn’t butchering his technique, which surprises his classmates. He blends in with the two girls pretty well. However, even though he’s doing good, doesn’t mean he outdid the likes of Dorothea and Hilda. Still, they don’t know what the judges think. Though for Dimitri, he doesn’t think about it. He merely thinks of holding Y/N in his arms, as he carefully moves his body around.

Minutes has passed, and the music stops and the bell rings. “TIME! That’s all, folks!” Alios announces. Thus, the three students stand still in front of the judges. All three awaits until they hear the result. Like minutes ago, Dorothea and Hilda still look confident, while Dimitri still looks nervous.

“Splendid! All three of you were fantastic! Now, let’s hear what the judges have to say…”

“Oh my, let’s see. I suppose I have no choice but to vote for… The Black Eagle House. Your performance was… exhilarating. My heart is still beating a mile a minute.”

“C’mon. At least give us one vote.” Annette begs back in the background.

“That vote was just rigged.” Sylvain is quick to conclude. “She’s in her house, AND they worked together.”

“Shh!” Ingrid shushed him. “They’re going to say the next person.”

“I vote for…” The room awaits for Shamir to give her vote. “The Blue Lions House. You were the most original.”

“Yes!” Ashe happily cheers. “At least we got one.”

“Great feedback, both of you! Well then, let’s see… Factoring my own humble opinion… Yes! We have a winner! And I will announce who it is… right now! Without any delay! The winner of this year’s White Heron Cup is…” With the surprise of the entire room, the winner gets announced. “The Blue Lion House.”

As the entire room claps for the winner, Dimitri merely looks confused. “I won? There must be some mistake…”

From that day, the students gave Dimitri an odd look, because they keep thinking how the prince only skilled in the battlefield could win in a dance competition. Days has passed since that day, and the prince still can’t believe he managed to win. The ball started, with about everyone at the event. In the middle of the room is the dancefloor, while those who just wanted to do something fun standing at the side.

“I can’t believe every girl rejected me.” Sylvain stands with his childhood friends as he complains about the event. “Am I losing my charm?”

“You didn’t had any in the first place.” Felix is quick to insult him.

“You know, I’m glad they rejected you.” Ingrid says with honesty. “You just toss them at the side when you’re done with them.”

“I take it none of you are going to dance, huh?” Y/N asks.

“Not a chance in the world.” Felix says.

“I wasn’t asked.” Ingrid responds.

“Oh.” Sylvain looks surprised. “I didn’t expect that. If you don’t mind, we can dance.”

Ingrid is quick to glare at him, thinking he’s up with something again. “And here I thought out of all girls, you wouldn’t treat me like-”

“Hey! Hey!” Sylvain quickly calms her down. “I meant as a friend.”

“Oh, yeah? Would you dance with Felix?”

“Sure. Why not?” Sylvain says with issue. He looks back at the frowning swordsman.

“No.”

Y/N laughs at the interaction. From his side, he sees Dimitri walking to them to join them. “Hello Dimitri. Everything going well?”

“Well, after my victory, girls are quiet interested with dancing with me.” Dimitri answers.

Sylvain looks disappointed. “Damnit. Why didn’t the professor picked me?”

Dimitri merely chuckles. “Anyway, it appears now I have some time alone. Ironically, I wanted to ask Y/N to dance?”

“You do?” Y/N is a bit surprised.

“Of course.” Dimitri gives his hand to Y/N. “It would be an honor to dance with you.”

Y/N smiles at the other smiling man. “I could say the same about you too.”

With that, Dimitri leads his friend to the dancefloor, where the prince leads his dance partner as they move around. In the background, the three childhood friends watch them.

“I didn’t expect Dimitri to ask him.”

Sylvain chuckles. “I do.”

“Hm?” Ingrid looks back at her friend. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I think after all those privet lessons Dimitri became interested in Y/N.”

“Romantically you mean?” Ingrid then looks back at the prince. “Huh. We never had two kings before. Still, Y/N is responsible and kind, so if he would be the future king, I wouldn’t mind.”

“And he’s far saner then the boar.” Felix adds.

Sylvain hums. “Well, whoever Dimitri is going to end up with, let’s hope it’s someone like Y/N.”

#fire emblem #fire emblem x male reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #fire emblem dimitri #dimitri x male reader #fire emblem dimitri x male reader

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