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#mostly fluff
sidsinning · 1 year
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Villainess AU update! (Finally,,,,)
Excuses don’t work on the birthday boy
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The Hawk and The Songbird (Dracule Mihawk x F! Reader)
Rated : G
Inspired by the Live Action One Piece Iteration of Dracule Mihawk. After all, how can one look at this man and not swoon.
Contains Mostly Fluff and Very Mild Swearing. And I threw in some longing too. Gotta have that. Oh and I threw in a personal head canon. All in all, this is a one long bit of non canon compliant fluff.
Enjoy!
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It was a busy night at The Mermaid’s Tail tavern. It was even more busy due to the fact that you were the only one working that night. Your best friend who had hired you to help, had to attend to a family matter that evening, so it was down to you. You liked busy nights though because it meant things went by faster.
The usual crowd was there. All were quite jovial because that day was payday, which meant they had plenty of coins to spend and they planned to drink it away that night. You knew most if not all of them by name now and they all greeted you as an old friend. 
All but one. Him. The Man in Black.
The Man in Black, so called because of his fancy black hat and black long coat, sat near one of the windows, facing away from the crowd. He had started coming in a week or so after you started working there. Upon seeing him that first night, you asked your friend about him. They handed you a glass of red wine to take to him and told you to not expect much from him at all. So you took it over. He nodded to you and said nothing. 
He was there again that night. As usual he sat alone,keeping his head down, looking at no one, saying nothing to no one, not even you. In front of him on the table was his usual glass of red wine, a glass that you made sure stayed full, along with his massive sword. The man radiated an energy that could simply be described as “Keep your distance.”
He often showed up just as the crowd was starting to get bigger and often stayed till closing. What��s more,he always left a generous bit of coin. Enough so that he was your biggest tipper. He gave you no guff and for you, that suited you just fine. To you, he was just the Man in Black. He was just another customer. Albeit your most mysterious one.
Moving through the crowd dropping off drinks, so many asked you if you planned to sing that night. You told all of them that if the mood hit you right that you would. Though you were flattered that so many loved your voice, at times, you felt that the patrons only saw you as entertainment and nothing else. A few even treated you as something that could be purchased, which made you feel worse. All you wanted to do was get on with things and make what money you could. Once you did, you could move on again.
The night was half over when another large group came through the doors, laughing, joking and all around being boisterous. Looking at them, you didn't recognize them. They all were dressed in black with bits of red. having only been on the island a few months, you were still learning what crew was who. Whenever a new one would come through the doors, it always made you on edge. Did they come for a bit of fun or a bit of trouble?
Walking over to the table to take their order, you gave them a sweet smile, hoping that would make them inclined to be well behaved. Not a chance. The man with close cropped blonde hair that you took to be the Captain gave you such a leering look that it made your skin crawl.  He asked for a round for him and his crew and asked what time you planned on singing tonight. When you told him that you didn't know if you were going to or not, he offered a bit of money for you to sing right there.
If they had asked nicely, if they had not given you the creeps right off the bat, you might have agreed.
“I’ll be back with your drinks. And for the future, I'm not a bird who sings on command.” You said, dropping your smile and your tone, enough that you hoped the idiots would get the hint that they had overstepped. In the past when you had to do that, the wise ones got the hint and usually apologized later on in the form of extra cash.
All but one of them got the hint: the Captain. 
After you turned your back to them and started to walk away, the Captain got up and began to follow you. You were so distracted, wondering what cheap ale you could get away with serving them, you didn't notice him getting up to follow you.
“Oi, You fucking B…” You heard someone yell over the other patrons.
The words registered in your ear, making you stop and pivot around quickly, your temper flaring. But to your shock, the Captain, so smug before, was standing frozen in place, a very long and large metal blade placed firmly under his neck.
You looked to see who was holding the blade. To your utter shock, it was him.Having never seen his face before, you hadn't known what to expect. Under the dark hat with the white plume feather, was a man with black hair, with a short black beard. He had a mustache that was designed in a unique way, instead of the ends pointing down and connecting with the beard, they pointed upwards. It was a very handsome face.
Under his long ornate coat, he had on a large golden cross, tan trousers and boots. His bare chest was hairless but he was in great shape.He looked like he stepped off the cover of a bodice ripper. He looked incredibly sexy.
It was then that you noticed that the bar had gone dead silent. All the other patrons who had weapons on them had drawn them. All eyes were on you, the Captain and the Man in Black
“What did you just say to her?”  The man said in a voice that was deep, smooth, and to you, very alluring. His jaw was clenched so tight that you thought it just might snap. You didn't know at that moment what you were more, scared or aroused.
“Mihawk. What a pleasure.” The Captain said, looking at him with a grin that lacked any and all humor. He brought up his hands as if to surrender, perhaps hoping that would be enough to get Mihawk to drop his blade. He didn't. 
“It's just a misunderstanding.”
“ Oh..I think not.” Mihawk said, his voice now dripping with venom. “Shall I dispose of him for you, Milady?”
It took a second for you to realize that the man you now knew to be Mihawk was addressing you, so stunned you were that he had come to your defense.Not only had he done that, but he addressed you in such a way that made you swoon inside.
“If you would be so kind.” You said, your voice cracking just a touch as you addressed him. 
Keeping his blade to the Captains neck, Mihawk all but shoved him out the door, not wishing to make a mess inside. The crew quickly followed outside to assist their Captain, thinking that surely all of them could take down one man who only had a sword as his weapon. 
The rest of the patrons quickly got up. Some rushed to the windows, some rushed to the door and peeked out. Seconds later, you heard the sounds of men screaming and of items being broken. Some of the patrons watched with gleeful looks, others winced and looked away. 
Suddenly it was quiet outside. The patrons quickly went back to their tables and their drinks. For a second you worried that Mihawk was now gone. You started to head towards the door, but then,Mihawk then walked back in, his sword now on his back. Looking at him, you didn't see a single mark or a drop of blood on him. As he walked over to you, your knees began to feel a bit wobbly. You hoped you wouldn't faint in front of him.
“Are you alright Sir?”
“Never better.” Mihawk said, giving you a small, rare smile, his voice now much softer than before. It was soft enough that it felt like a gentle caress.
“Are they all gone?” You asked.
“Some ran. Others, will never run again.” 
“May I ask which of the two the Captain is?”
“The latter.”
You swallowed hard, processing the fact that this immensely handsome and dangerous man standing in front of you took down a pirate captain and his crew because he dared to insult you. And here you thought such men only existed in stories.
“Thank you Sir. Rest of the night, your drinks are on me.” You said, nodding back towards the bar. Mihawk followed you and took a seat. You quickly poured another goblet of his favorite red wine and as you handed it to him, you felt his fingers brush yours, which made you shiver a bit.
You then decided to pour a glass for yourself. You were so wound up you needed to take the edge off.  Taking a big drink, the wine warmed you up even more.
“So, Mihawk is it?”
“Dracule Mihawk.” He said, tilting his head to the side a bit. It was then that you got a good look at his eyes. To your shock, they were golden, much like a hawk’s. It made you wonder if his sight was as good as a hawks. You also felt as if Mihawk could see through you..
“Well, Dracule Mihawk, might I ask a favor of you?”
“Yes?”
“Would you mind staying until closing and perhaps after a bit...just in case the others come back?” You asked. Though that was a part of the reason, there was another, to find out more about the dashing gentleman now sitting at your bar.
“I’ll stay as long as you wish, Milady.”You smiled, relieved to hear that. 
Realizing that you needed to get back to work, you resumed your duties, with Mihawk keeping a close watch from the bar. Thankfully the other patrons were very well behaved the rest of the night. By then, with everything else going well and Mihawk keeping you company, you were in a much better mood. So much so that at closing time, you felt in a good enough mood to sing.
Upon announcing that it was time for some music, one of the patrons ran over to the piano and started playing a lively tune. Quickly you got up on the bar and started singing. Within seconds the patrons were clapping along, having a grand time. Once you were done, the applause and cheering from the crowd could clearly be heard outside.  In the mood for more, you nodded to the player, who quickly launched into another crowd pleaser of a tune.
As he watched you belt out another song, Mihawk kept his golden gaze on you and only you. Seeing you lose yourself in the music,he found himself smiling more than he had in a long time,your energy was so infectious. 
Though he hadn't told you yet, you were the sole reason he had been coming into the tavern. In years past, he might come in if he was in search of someone. Perhaps he might have had a drink while waiting for someone. But he hasn't been in for a while. Until one night, arriving late to the dock, he had left the ship in order to meet with someone, when walking along the dock, he heard singing coming out of the The Mermaid’s Tail tavern. 
Greatly curious, he had peeked in, and saw to his astonishment, a gorgeous barmaid, sitting on top of said bar, belting out what he surmised was a love song. To his shock, everyone in the tavern was enraptured by your performance. Despite it, he found himself unwilling to leave until the song was over. Even after he left later in search of his quarry, your angelic voice was still ringing in his ears. So much so that he even dreamt of you singing.
The first chance he got, he returned to the tavern, wondering if you would grace the patrons with your voice again. He was in luck for that night, you sang a handful of songs and had the patrons on their feet clapping and dancing. Watching you from afar, he found himself wanting to approach you. But strangely, he couldn't. 
Mihawk kept his distance, but as much as he fought it, he found himself coming back time and time again just for the chance to hear you sing again. Something about your voice stirred him inside. It was like your voice was a Siren’s call that he couldn't resist.
After a while, you had to close things up. The patrons were sad to have to leave but were thrilled to have been treated to another performance by you. True to his word, Mihawk stayed behind. Surprisingly, he even pitched in to help.
Once you finished locking up the take in the office, you returned to the bar itself. Mihawk was still there, still looking at you with those golden eyes of  his that you had become utterly enchanted by.
“Shall I escort you home?” He asked.
“I actually have a room upstairs.” You said, a bit nervously. “Benefits of working here and being friends with the owner. Thank you again for everything.”
“My pleasure.” He said, with a tip of his hat, his voice dropping even more. 
You then walked him to the door, you fought the urge to take him by the hand and ask him to stay, but something stopped you. As he stepped out, you asked hopefully “Will you be back tomorrow?”
“Would Milady like me to come back tomorrow?’ He turned to ask.
“Milady would, very much so.” You said, hoping you weren't being too forward.
“Then I will be here. Goodnight Milady.” Mihawk said, with another tip of his hat. As he walked off into the night, Mihawk smiled to himself, already looking forward to tomorrow evening.
Locking the door behind him, you walked upstairs to your room. After getting ready for bed, you laid down, your thoughts still firmly on Mihawk. The whole evening had been a surreal one, but even with a bit of drama with the Captain, it still ended on a wonderful note. 
You hummed happily to yourself as you wound down, already planning on what songs to sing tomorrow. You also planned to ask Mihawk what his favorite song was. If it was one you knew, you would be happy to sing it for him. If you didn't know it, you would be damn sure to learn it. You wanted to look straight into those hawk-like eyes of his as you sang just for him.
Back in his own room, Mihawk’s thoughts centered on just one thing: you. He still couldn't believe that he had been given the opportunity to finally approach you. Though having to dispose of the Captain and his crew had been a minor bit of drama, he had been more than happy to dispose of them in service to such a beautiful woman. What’s more, he was given the chance to hear you sing up close.
Your angelic voice was still in the back of his mind as he settled in. As he began to drift off, it remained. He hoped that even as he entered the world of dreams that your voice wouldn't leave him, you the Songbird.
“Goodnight Milady.” He whispered into the night. “I await your call.”
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tenaciousvoidcat · 5 months
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A Promise Made
A short post-coital POV one shot between you & Astarion that takes place during his graveyard date scene. It’s my first time posting anything on here that even remotely resembles smut— not even sure if it qualifies as that since it’s like 99% fluff lol but anyway please be kind! 🙏🏻 Enjoy!
Ever since Astarion and you had shared your feelings for each other while traversing the Shadowcursed lands, the two of you had been taking things slow. Something he was wholly unaccustomed to, but deeply grateful for.
Even upon your arrival at Baldur’s Gate, a city where vice, sex and sin permeated every inch of its cobbled streets and weathered stone walls, the two of you had resisted its many temptations. A feat most would be unable to boast about. Simply put, you weren’t interested in such things. You only had eyes for one man. Astarion. But did he truly feel the same? The two of you had grown to share a surprisingly sweet and close bond in the short time you’d been traveling together. You’d been by his side through bloodlust, pain and misery. You were an inspiration, a light in the darkness, and he’d grown to trust you like no other. You were also the first person to break through that rakish facade of his and embrace the scarred, vulnerable man underneath. You saw him, the real him. And on that fateful night when he brought you to his grave, after wiping Cazador Szarr from the face of Faerun— your chaste romance ended. That night, the two of you made love— in every sense of the word. You’d pledged yourselves to each other that night, body and soul. It was— transcendent. Your naked body was delightfully sore, as the two of you lay entwined in each others arms, beneath a blanket of stars. Once you finally catch your breath and look over to meet his eyes again, you notice something— Astarion’s cheeks are streaked with silvery tear stains.
“Are you alright, my love?” You ask, reaching over to cup his cheek.
“That— that was… different.” He replies in a slightly shaky tone, gazing up at the moon.
“A good different though, yes?” You ask, searching his face, brows furrowed.
“It was— incredible.” He manages to choke out, as another silent tear streams down his cheek. But you gently catch it with your thumb, as he turns to you, glassy-eyed with emotion. “I always want it to be like this.” He gives a small smile that threatens to crack his face. You grin at him and kiss his forehead. “Meaning?” You ask with a gentle smile, shifting to your side to rest on your elbow. “I just want…”, he pauses, brows knitted and you swear that you see a flash of color form on his cheeks. Can vampires blush? The thought brings a smile to your face. He looks away for a moment, before returning your gaze.
“You. Just you.”
Your heart leaps in your chest. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, my love.” You entwine your fingers with his for a moment.
“Good.” He places a soft kiss on your knuckles, and rests on his side, mirroring your posture. “Because, as selfless as I may be,” he purrs, his hand gliding down your side to the cleft of your ass, “I’d be a damned fool to let someone as precious and lovely as you, slip away from me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” You reassure him, smiling softly. “I’m all yours, my love. I can promise you that.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.” He cups your cheek and kisses you tenderly before pulling you into his chest. He rests his chin on your forehead and lets out a dreamy sigh. “You know Darling, I could get used to this.” “Oh, you will my love.” You giggle, nuzzling into his chest. “You can trust me on that.”
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theevilpretty1 · 6 months
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Lucifer's Trust
Kinktober 2023 - Fluffy Edition Day Two - Wing Grooming (replaced Ear Cleaning) Lucifer & GN Reader 534 words
Lucifer’s bedroom was warm. The firelight cast Lucifer’s impressive silhouette on the wall. His wings flared wide. His naked torso exposed before you. Lucifer’s eyes were closed, and there was an expectant smile on his face.
The first time he had asked you to tend his wings, you had been afraid. Not of them. No, they were gorgeous. At first glance black, but upon closer inspections they shone iridescent. Royal blue. Deep violet. Shadowed emerald. You hadn’t been afraid of them or him, but afraid that you would ruin the perfection before your eyes. Now your fingers no longer trembled when you approached him, well, if they did, it wasn’t fear that made them shake.
Your touch was light as you buried your fingers in his damp wings. You always revelled at the trust he gave you. A little shiver traveled along his spine as you completed the rituals he had taught you. Stroking his feathers following their natural flow, adjusting them carefully and helping them dry. The precise trimming of any that were damaged always made you hold your breath. It was like being asked to deface a masterpiece. And yet you still did it, because he trusted you to do it. 
You knew it was hard for Lucifer to be like this, even when it was just you. Maybe it was worse because it was you. He always wanted to be strong in your eyes. Your rock. Your strength. You loved he was working through that and being vulnerable with you. His wings were the last remnant of the angel he had been, and though they were now tarnished black, it made them no less precious to him. 
Lucifer rarely talked while you groomed him but you didn’t need him to. You were starting to understand all his little sounds. It was almost a secret language that only the two of your knew. The soft grumble when your fingers brushed an itchy patch. The half groan he would make when you scratched with just the right amount of pressure. Best of all was the contented sigh that preceded him flaring his wings to their full span.
You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against his back. Inhaling his unique scent and holding it deep in your lungs, you clung to the intimacy of the moment. 
“Stand before me.”
Lucifer’s whisper held all the power of a louder command and you could not refuse him. You peppered the bare skin of his shoulder with kisses before reluctantly stepping back. You couldn’t help but stand there, staring the sheer breathtaking beauty in front of you.
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Red eyes captured your gaze over his shoulder.
You walked a slow wide circle around him, taking your time to obey so you could admire Lucifer from every angle. His smile was amused when you finally stopped in front of him. He raised his arm and extended his hand. You placed your hand in his, and his pulled you tight to his chest.
“Thank you,” He murmured against your cheek as he held you close. His wings rustled as they shifted, trapping you in a shadowy sanctuary that you never wanted to leave. 
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leighsartworks216 · 5 months
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The Rescue of Magistrate Ancunin
Astarion x gn!Tav (could be read as the beginning of a romance or a friendship)
I started this like weeks ago but I wasn't happy with it so I left it alone. And then I came back fully expecting to delete and re-write half of it, but nope! I like it now!
This should have been more angsty but it sure is not
Warnings: blood, injury, fear of death, descriptions of dying, swearing, descriptions of pain, angst
Word Count: 2,202 (fun!)
Main Masterlist
Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist
AO3
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Boots kick in his stomach, his face - anywhere they can reach - mixed with fists and nails. Astarion tries covering his head, but it’s in vain. The air is torn out of him over and over, until breathing becomes too difficult. Everything is excruciating. Pure, unbridled agony washes over him, replaced only by short bouts of numbness.
He can no longer feel his fingers or his toes. They’re just cold. So cold.
His nose breaks with a sickening crunch. He chokes around a gasp. Tears pour down his face, snot and blood dripping from his nose.
He’s going to die here.
They’re going to kill him.
And he’s terrified.
At the edge of his senses, he can hear the clicking of boots against cobblestone. The Gur hear it, too. With one last good hit each, some spitting on him as a further disgrace, they rush from the scene. He can’t move. The longer he lays there, the more the pain goes away. There’s a warm liquid beneath him, all around him - he can almost pretend it’s a warm bath.
The clicking gets faster as the boots run toward him. Soft hands turn him over to his back, but it hurts so fucking bad. He wants to curl up into a ball, let death wash over him and remove his fear and his pain. The hands don’t let him. They brush his hair, matted with blood, from his forehead.
It takes too much effort, but he tries to look anyway. His vision won’t focus. The person’s speaking, he thinks. Their mouth is moving insistently. He can’t even begin trying to read their lips.
They lean over him and press their hands to his chest. It hurts. He tries lifting his arms to push them away, but he can’t even feel his arms anymore. He tries mouthing the word “Stop”, hoping he can find enough air to speak. Alas, nothing comes out. And he’s so tired.
For one brief moment, his vision is clear. He can see their face. Their eyes are closed, but they glow beneath the lids. Another glow, the same pale blue, surrounds their hands. He tries to commit their face to memory: their hair, the shape of their nose, their brows. But before he can get a clear image, darkness crawls in from the edge of his vision. The last thing he is aware of before he slips away - into unconsciousness or death, he isn’t sure - is their voice, whispering spells under their breath.
The cleric casts spell after spell - anything they can think of. If they try moving him in this state, he won’t live past the end of the street. One incantation after another spills from their lips, desperate. In the back of their mind, they pray to their goddess to spare this man from this fate. Too many people have died on these cobblestones with no one to help - they will not let him continue that cycle.
By the time they’ve spent all their spells and opened their eyes, a ring of flowers and grass grow around him, risen from the blood as though it was fresh dirt, climbing through cracked stones. Shaky hands carefully examine him.
His ribs are no longer cracked, and blood no longer fills his lungs. When they lean down to listen, his breaths are slow, but constant. He was by no means fully recovered - he was injured too much for that - but he’s stable enough to move.
They brush away some flowers that tangled in his hair and wrap his arm around their shoulders. Once they had him sitting up, they wrapped their arm around his waist and did the monumental task of carrying his dead weight to his feet. They weren’t weak by any standards, but they also weren’t in the habit of carrying full-grown people. Not to mention how weak they were now they’d cast everything available to them.
His feet dragged as they supported him down the road. They could continue to treat him at their house, where he’d be safe from another attack.
The flowers were the only witnesses to a figure in the shadows that scoffed and disappeared into the night.
-
Astarion’s eyes slowly opened. The afterlife looked much different than he expected. The room was a bit shabby… Maybe this was one of the Hells? His head sluggishly flops to the side when the door opens with a creak. Is this… a god? He expected something a bit more… spectacular.
They didn’t seem to notice him as they went around the room. They peeked underneath anything with space below it, muttering frustratedly under their breath. With a huff, they opened closet doors, shutting them quietly despite their exasperation.
He would have spoken, but his mouth was so gods-damned dry. So instead, he cleared his throat. It barely made a sound - a small grunt if anything - but they jumped out of their skin and looked at him.
“Oh! You’re awake!” They shook off the jitters as they rushed to the nightstand next to the bed he lay on, pouring him a glass of water from a pitcher. They carefully supported the back of his head off the pillow and held the glass to his lips. “Here, drink this.”
He did as they asked without much thought. All he could really think to do is stare up at them, even as the blessedly cool liquid soothed his throat. Surely, this couldn’t be a god. He’d never been one to believe, but he’d never heard any stories that had gods take care of visitors. Certainly not those that discussed gods of death.
After letting him drink for a moment, they took the glass away and set it back down, easing his head back on the pillow. They smiled at him, warm and welcoming. Where in the Hells was he?
They chuckled. Oh, had he said that out loud? “You’re at my house. You’ve been asleep for a few days now.”
He blinked slowly and cleared his throat again. “Why?”
“You don’t remember?” They tilt their head at him, watching, as though they’d seen this before.
“I remember… heading home. And…” He scowled. “The Gur.”
“Is that who attacked you?”
Right. He was attacked. He grunts and forces himself to sit up. Their hands hover over him, ready to catch him if it’s too much, but they don’t touch him. He looks down at his body. Other than some nasty bruises, he’s perfectly fine. He feels nauseous just remembering how he couldn’t breathe - yet here he was, breathing perfectly fine.
“How did you…?” He touches his nose, surprised it isn’t broken. He looks at them again. They almost laugh at the bewildered look on his face. “I thought I was dead.”
They wince slightly. “No, fortunately I found you just in time. A moment later and you would be. I can alert the officials about the attack, but they probably won’t catch those responsible.”
He groaned. The thought of his own predicament becoming a court case gave him a headache. “Great. They’re free to roam without consequence.”
“Hm. I’m sure their luck will run out.” He looks at them from the corner of his eye. “Oh, do you believe in karma?”
“No, not really.”
They smile despite this. “For your sake then, I hope they get some repercussions for their actions.”
“If you really believe, then you’d think this was karma getting back at me.”
“Why? What did you do?”
He sneers as he says it. “I handed down a sentence they didn’t really like.”
They look at him for a moment. He can’t tell if they’re assessing him or just formulating an opinion. They choose their next words carefully. “It’s against my faith to believe that a violent action against another is just.”
“And what do you think? Outside of your faith’s rules.”
They frowned as they thought. “I think… I don’t have enough information to form an opinion.”
He hummed. “Fair enough.”
They offered him a polite smile and turned to search the room once more. They peered under the bed, squinting into the darkness, before huffing and looking somewhere else.
“What are you looking for?”
“Hm? Oh, my cat, Pumpkin. She loves to sneak into the guest rooms, and for some reason, she loves sneaking in here, specifically.” They paused, realizing something. “Actually, she only started coming in here so often once you showed up. She may just like you.”
He hummed noncommittally. Cats did seem to like him, but he did his best to avoid them. It wasn’t professional to have fur all over his clothes, especially during court.
“You said you passed down a sentence,” they said as they rifled through a pile of blankets with no luck. “Are you a judge?”
“Magistrate,” he corrects, haughtily. “Magistrate Ancunin.”
They stand straight and turn to him. “Oh! I never introduced myself.” They smiled sweetly. “My name’s Tav. A pleasure to finally meet you,” they teased lightly. “I didn’t really know what to call you while you healed. It’s nice to put a name to a face.” Their smile dropped as they sighed sharply, turning with their hands on their hips to look around the room. “Now, where is that damn cat?”
He almost chuckles as he watches them re-check the wardrobe, lean down to peer under furniture they already looked under, and pick up each blanket in the stack with such vigor they nearly came unfolded.
A slight movement caught his ears. As they opened drawers and shuffled spare clothes within, he looked at the pile of pillows beside him. At a glance, they seemed perfectly normal. It was a large bed - the pillows on the side he wasn’t sleeping on were set up just as they ought to be. But, as he continued to look, something shifted the pillow. A minute motion. He carefully pulled it back.
“This cat you’re looking for…”
They hum, not looking at him. “Pumpkin.”
“Yes, Pumpkin, what does she look like?”
“Oh, um, orange. White belly. Her tail was bit off by a stray dog when she was little, so it’s rather short now.”
“White paws?”
“Mhm.”
“Blue eyes, sort of brown in the center?”
“Exactly.”
The only sound in the room was the creak of wood as they tried peering on top of the bookshelf. Then silence. They slowly turned around as their mind finally caught up.
Astarion, still holding the pillow back, watched with a slight grin as the aforementioned cat rolled on her back, stretching out with paws reaching toward the sky. Even from across the room, they could hear the loud purrs she emitted.
They let out a long suffering sigh as they stepped off the bottom-most shelf and made their way to the cat’s side of the bed. Bright blue eyes looked up at them, mouth curled in the cutest way. They sighed again. “You’re terrible, you know that?”
With a sweet mreow, Pumpkin rolled back over and, before he could react, jumped into his lap.
“Ah, I don’t- Hey! Wh-What are you doing?!”
Tav laughed as he floundered, hands raised like he had no idea where to put them. Pumpkin brushed up against his chest, her short tail just brushing his shoulder, before she began kneading into his lap. Her claws pulled at the handmade quilt, and he was all-too-relieved he had the protection. Before she could curl up, Tav rounded the bed and swooped her up by her middle, tucking her into their arm like a baby. The cat mrowled in displeasure.
“Like I said, she really likes you.”
He frowned, brushing his shirt of fur on habit, even though the pajamas he wore were not his own. “Delightful,” he droned. “If you don’t mind, when can I leave this place?”
They took the rudeness in stride - they’d been asked the same question in far meaner ways before. It was part of the job, they supposed. “You’re welcome to leave today, if you feel well enough. I’d warn against going out at night, until it’s safer, at least. I’d be happy to lend you some clothes.”
“What happened to mine?”
They gave him a soft look, like a mother afraid to tell her child disappointing news. “I’m afraid they were too soaked in blood to be salvaged. I saved what personal effects I could, but…”
He blinked. How did he forget he was there because he was nearly beaten to death? Funny how one forgets something so major when looking for a cat and having idle conversation. He cleared his throat. “Of course.”
Pumpkin wriggling in their arms, they pull the door open and turn back to him. “I’ll bring some clothes right up, Magistrate Ancunin, and your belongings.”
“Astarion.” He looks away, chin up, trying to keep some modicum of professionalism. “You can call me Astarion.”
He can hear the smile in their voice. “You’re welcome to stay for supper, if you’d like, Astarion.” They pull the door closed behind them as they say, “Though Pumpkin may try for your lap again.”
After a pause, he lets himself relax in the silence of the now-still room. A dumb grin slides across his face. Surely the court could await his return a while longer?
---
Tag List:
@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnloveslokiredacted @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog
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lots-of-pockets · 1 year
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Everything’s gonna be okay (part 2)
Pairing: Scarlett x you
Words: 1429
Warnings: some swearing I think
Summary: after Scarlett’s sickness, you both sit down and talk about your relationship status.
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Three days pass before Scarlett had finally begun to get over her cold. You'd taken care of the entire time, just as you had promised, and other than the sniffles and the occasional itch in the back of her throat, she was somewhat back to her normal self.
You say somewhat, because despite the fact she was feeling better, she still wasn't quite acting like the Scarlett you knew. That reason was pretty self explanatory considering the circumstances, but you couldn't quite find it in yourself to call her out on it because that would be pretty hypocritical of you.
You were treading almost cautious circles around one another, neither one of you wanting to be the one to bring it up first. You knew you'd said you would, but it was easier said than done.
Scarlett was curled up on the couch, bundled up in a thick blanket whilst she watches whatever movie was on the tv. You had taken residence on the opposite side, your phone in your hand as you scroll aimlessly through your social media. It was obvious that neither one of you could find the words you wanted to say, and were using your chosen distractions as a suit of armour.
Your eyes, however, would often flicker over to her, just to be sure she was doing okay. And you would sometimes feel her eyes on you too, telling you your silent implication was reciprocated and that she was feeling the awkwardness too.
It was only as the movie finishes and a commercial begins do you finally find it in you to talk.
"Why'd you do it?" You murmur, locking your phone and setting it down onto your thigh. You hated how meek your voice sounded. It was almost as though you feared her yelling at you all over again.
Scarlett looks over to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It takes only moments for her facial expression to change into one of understanding, and you watch as she hesitates for only a second before sitting herself up and muting the tv, shifting her body around to face you and letting out a quiet sigh.
"I..." she swallows away the tightness in her throat as her hands absentmindedly twist a loose thread of the blanket around her finger. "I was angry." She could barely bring herself to look at you.
You nod, knowing this. You hadn't been able to forget the look of pure hatred on her face as she'd told you to get the fuck out. It was permanently engraved in your brain, and you were sure it would be for the rest of your life.
On that day, Scarlett had been in a bad mood from the second she'd woken up. You didn't know why, and no matter how many times you'd asked, she'd adamantly refused to tell you. It had left you walking on thin ice around her, keeping to yourself and not saying a word in fear you'd say something to make her snap.
Things weren't exactly picture perfect before this day though. For a month prior, her busy schedule had left you little to no time with each other. You went days without seeing her face, kissing her, touching her, and you guess that was the cherry on the cake that made you reach your breaking point.
"Why?" You ask, unsure eyes flickering up to meet her own. "Why'd you get so...mad at me?" You try to keep your voice as unaccusing as possible.
Scarlett bites her bottom lip softly as she lets out a heavy breath through her nose. "I wasn't mad at you," she shakes her head. It was almost as though she was trying to convince herself her as much as she was trying to convince you.
“I was never mad at you. I was mad at everything else. My job. My lack of schedule and personal life. I was mad at the world and I just needed someone to blame. You were just...there, in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was a shitty thing to do and I regretted it the second it happened. I'm so, so sorry."
You stare at her for a second before letting out a quiet sigh, your eyes flickering down to your lap. You didn't know what to say. You weren’t mad at her, at least not anymore. You’d forgiven her almost the second it had happened because deep down you knew she hadn’t meant it. She’d just been stressed and overwhelmed and you’d been the closest target.
"I went out in the rain, after you," she continues unsurely when you don't say anything. The trembling voice, however, does not go amiss, and you feel the tears swimming in your own eyes.  "I looked for you, for over an hour, but you were gone. I called too, but..."
"...but I didn't answer." You finish for her, and Scarlett lets out a quiet breath as she nods her head.
"Yeah." She murmurs hoarsely as she sniffles and clears her throat. "I'm so, so, sorry Y/n."
You knowingly nod your head. It takes you a few seconds for you to find your words.
"What we had together in those last few weeks was not at all healthy,” you start, trying your best to ignore the way you see Scarlett's bottom lip beginning to quiver in your peripheral vision. You hated seeing her upset, especially when it was you who had caused it.
"You took all of your frustrations out on me, even when it wasn't my fault and I tolerated that for a while because I knew you were upset and I didn't want to add to that. But what you should have done is talk to me, or ask me to give you space. I would gladly have done so without hesitation. We were partners, Scarlett, but you didn’t treat me like one.”
A single tear streams down her cheek, and as she wipes it away, more fall in its place, "I know. I'm sorry."
"I don't want you to cry," you murmur, scooting closer and cupping her cheek with your hand. You tenderly wipe away the tears with the pad of your thumb, "and I don't want you to be sorry. You've apologised before, and I forgave you. I just wanted to know why."
Scarlett nods as another tear steams down her cheeks. You press a soft kiss to her hairline before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. Her body was warm against your own, and you hear yer let out a soft sniffle as her head comes to rest on your chest just beneath your chin. You cup the back your your head, the pad of your thumb grazing over the shell of her ear as her own hand tightly clutches the material or your shirt.
"In the future," you start as you lay your cheek against the top of her head, "in the future, you need to communicate with me. You need to tell me what's going on when you’re upset because I can't read your mind."
"Does that mean..." she tightens her arms around your midsection, and you nod as you press your lips against the top of her head. Before the break up, your relationship had pretty much been picture perfect. You rarely argued, communication was healthy and though you didn't get a lot of time together, it meant the time you did get was both cherished and special.
It was only in the last few weeks did that change, so you didn't see why you couldn't try again. You didn't want to waste the two amazing years together over an argument that could very much have been prevented.
That would be a stupid move on your part.
Scarlett buries her face into your neck, the tip of her nose cold against your skin. You instinctively tighten your grasp around her body, hand slipping beneath her shirt to rest against the bare skin of her back.
"I love you," you hear her murmur, and you smile tenderly. You didn't think you'd ever hear those words again.
"I love you."
**
Thank you guys so much for reading! ✨
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enchanting-evan · 1 year
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Kyle Spencer - skin care
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(post-death) Kyle Spencer x gn!reader one shot
Word Count: 683
WARNINGS/ NOTES: he gets "aggressive" for a second but not at you, zoe doesn't exist in this AU, but kyle still was revived the same way and healed with the mud and all that :]
*****
     You'd had another long and stressful day of living under the same roof as both Kyle and Madison. She was still extremely bitter he'd chosen you over her, and did all she could to torment the two of you whenever you were unlucky enough to cross paths. You blew out a long breath and braced your hands on either side of the cold marble sink, then took a long look in the mirror at the ever-darkening bags below your eyes.
You glanced over your shoulder to the room that you and Kyle stayed in, and from where you stood could only see his feet on the end of the bed. When you didn't detect any noise or movement, you assumed he was asleep and went on with getting your skincare supplies from under the sink. It wasn't some huge secret you kept from him, you only hoped to keep him from seeing you with a strange colored face mask on to avoid confusing or scaring him.
Halfway through covering your face with a grey, pasty exfoliator, the sound of approaching feet quickly caught your attention. Seconds later, Kyle was shuffling through the door in pursuit of you, but upon seeing your face, stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened and he tilted his head to the side as his brows knit in confusion.
  "It's me Kyle," you held your hands up, palms facing him. "It's just a mask. It's good for your skin."
He didn't seem alarmed anymore after hearing your voice, but still he proceeded with caution. He reached you with his index finger outstretched toward your face, and poked at the textured blend on your cheek.
  You smiled and placed your hand gently on the back of his, "See? It's good."
  He pressed his lips into a line and they trembled as he tried to form words. You watched him patiently, and eventually he pointed to his own face and asked, "Me... too?"
The idea of you two doing this together amused you, and you obliged happily. You told him what each thing was before reaching for the same tube you'd used for yourself, kneading a dab of its contents on two of your fingers, then swiping it on his scarred cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut and jerked back a bit, taking you by surprise.
He turned to look at himself in the mirror, wearing a new, vexed expression. He shook his head a couple times in a twitchy, unnatural way, and you knew this was the beginning of one of his meltdowns. It hit you at once that the cold, strange mix on face must remind him of Misty's mud, and being stuck out in the swamp with her; that meant being away from you. He hated that.
  "Kyle, hey," you spoke gently, a soothing hand running down his back. "You're here with me, okay? Neither of us are going anywhere."
He blinked rapidly at you, his face losing irritation and settling into relief. He looked back at himself, and touched the grey streak on his face before turning back to you.
  "S-Staying?" he murmured breathlessly. "With Y/N?"
  "Yes, of course you're staying," you assured him. "We'll always be together."
He overestimated your strength and stability then by hugging you and nearly letting himself go limp, expecting you to hold him up. He squeezed you just a tad too hard, but you handled it and smiled approvingly when he pulled back. He let you cover a bit more of his cheeks, and you stopped the moment he seemed uncomfortable. The two of you kissed the small bare spots of each other's faces, and after a few minutes finally washed the paste off.
  "Clean," Kyle smiled at his reflection, then turned to run a single finger down your now smoother and softer cheek.
His mouth formed a tiny o, and you giggled at his adorable expression. Once you got into your pajamas, not without Kyle repeatedly reaching to touch you while you changed, the two of you snuggled down into your shared bed, both smelling of floral face mask.
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rainbowrelyea · 6 months
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This my first time writing fanfiction, so please be gentle! I also decided to try a different writing style than my usual, so I hope it’s still enjoyable! Anyways, here we goooo….
Oh look I’m on AO3 now too
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Supercorptober Day 3: “Kara”
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When she first meets Kara, she remembers thinking “what a beautiful name”.
And then Lena remembers how her breath caught in her throat when she looked into the most beautiful blue eyes she had ever seen, and she knew in that moment Kara was not anyone she was going to forget anytime soon.
At first, Kara was just interviews and polite conversation over tea and coffee. But she was also a very attractive woman and easy on the eyes, so who could blame Lena if she secretly looked forward to their occasional interactions?
Lena soon came to find that Kara was unlike anyone she had ever met. Kara was genuine in a disarming way, in that way that almost seemed too good to be true - but time and time again she proved that she truly had no ulterior motives - she quite simply just wanted to be Lena’s friend. Lena, self deprecating as ever, couldn’t understand why Kara was so determined to nurture the tiny seedling of their fledgling friendship, but she found herself helpless to resist Kara’s radiant smile and the joy that it brought to her life (or the way her heart beat just a tiny bit faster every time she looked at her).
Before long Kara was weekly lunches, and kombucha dates and spin classes, and text messages with silly stories and pictures that sometimes made Lena laugh until her sides hurt. And then there were the hugs - so many hugs. Lena didn’t think she had ever been hugged so much in her life, but suddenly she couldn’t imagine her life without them, without getting to feel the way she felt when Kara’s arms were wrapped around her.
Kara was warmth and comfort personified, like snuggling up in a soft blanket in front of a fire on a cold day.
Kara was shy smiles and playful smirks and cheek splitting grins. She was long rambling sentences and clumsy stumbles and the endearingly awkward way she always fidgeted with her glasses. She was pizza and ice cream and movie nights, silliness and laughter and bad puns that Lena loved even though she pretended not to.
Kara was a cardigan-clad wrecking ball who unexpectedly smashed down every wall Lena had painstakingly erected around her scarred and wounded heart, walls she put up long ago to keep herself safe… but somewhere along the way Kara had become her safe place, her sanctuary. She felt protected and cared for… and for once, truly loved. Perhaps not in the same way she ever so slowly found herself falling for the charming blonde, but loved nonetheless.
(Because Kara was also the butterflies in Lena’s stomach, and she was stolen glances and sweaty palms and Lena’s nervous habit of biting her lower lip. She was the rapid beating of Lena’s traitorous heart, and affectionate smiles that tried to say what Lena could never find the courage to put into words).
Kara was sunshine, pouring light into all of Lena’s darkest places, banishing the shadows lurking in her soul with gentle but confident assurances of better days ahead. Kara was hope and perseverance and finding the silver lining in every cloud. She was everything good and true in Lena’s life.
Until she wasn’t.
In the blink of an eye, Lena found herself struggling to stay afloat in a raging sea of doubt and confusion, suddenly questioning everything she thought she had ever known. And the one person who could possibly save Lena was the one pushing her head under the water, drowning her in lies and betrayal.
So Kara was Supergirl. She was a goddamn fucking superhero. A so-called symbol of goodness, a supposed paragon of virtue.
Supergirl was “hope, help and compassion for all”.
How ironic.
All Lena felt was hopeless and helpless, all other emotions gone numb aside from the simmering hatred and rage threatening to consume her.
Kara was now nothing more than secrecy and deception. She was cowardice and regret and misplaced trust. Kara was the dull knife blade twisting in Lena’s back. She was the proverbial wolf in sheep’s clothing, an imposter hiding behind a carefully crafted mask.
Kara was Lena’s heart fractured into a million jagged little pieces, ripping her insides apart and leaving her raw, exposed, vulnerable. Broken and bleeding.
Alone.
Kara became silence. The aching hole in Lena’s chest, an emptiness that nothing could fill.
Kara became endless nights finding the bottom of a bottle of expensive scotch, and crystal tumblers shattered against walls when the pain became too much to bear.
Lena wanted so desperately for Kara to become a distant memory, nothing more than a warning to her future self, packed away in a tiny box in Lena’s mind. But no matter what Lena did, Kara was still there, like a stubborn stain on a white shirt.
As time went on, Lena began to liken the feeling to the experience of getting a tattoo. Her emotional tattoo of Kara was a swirling design of pastels mixed with bold and vivid colors, rife with personal significance and symbolic of so many deep and indescribable emotions, both good and bad. And even though it was initially inscribed on her soul with gentle hands and a delicate touch, it still left her heart red and raw, covered in angry scabs that were so easy to pick at even though she knew it would only cause her more pain. But it would heal eventually, as long as Lena allowed it to. The pain would slowly fade away, leaving behind a permanent manifestation of memories both beautiful and bittersweet.
Simply put, as Lena had come to discover, Kara was unforgettable. No matter how much Lena tried to hate her, the truth was she loved her too much to ever let her go. And once Lena finally came to terms with that truth, she decided it was time to stop fighting what was clearly a losing battle.
Lena was finally ready to heal.
Lucky for her, Kara was ready to heal too.
And like dipping her toes cautiously in the edge of the water before diving in, little by little Lena let Kara back into her life.
Kara was different, and yet the same. Kara was layers for Lena to peel back one by one, finding her old friend still there alongside another Kara she had yet to meet.
Kara was forgiveness and second chances. She was the return of weekly lunch dates, and getting to know each other all over again. She was hope renewed, both of them learning to trust again and learning to be honest with each other.
Kara was previously untold stories of Krypton, and Lena’s realization of how the burden of Kara’s trauma weighed so heavily on her broad shoulders. Kara was deep sorrow, and fierce protectiveness, and a deep-seated sense of duty and determination to never let Earth or her loved ones befall the same fate as her former home. Kara was vulnerability, opening up to Lena about her past regrets and deepest fears. Lena learned to recognize the distant pain in Kara’s eyes, how well she hid so much of herself from everyone. And Lena learned to comfort the real Kara, in the same way she realized Kara had always been there to comfort her in her own darkest hours, even when Lena had taken it for granted.
Kara was the overwhelming urge Lena had to learn to speak and read Kryptonian just so that Kara would feel less alone. To be someone she could proudly share her culture and heritage with.
Kara was once again the destruction of the walls around Lena’s heart - but unlike before, the walls come down slowly, brick by careful brick. And this time, Kara’s walls came down too. When they finally had no more walls between them, together they took the bricks and built a bridge between their souls.
“El Mayarah,” as Kara would say. Stronger together.
Kara was once again light and laughter and the one person who could always make Lena smile. She was cuddles on Kara’s couch and spontaneous adventures and Lena finally overcoming her fear of flying. Kara was the confidence Lena needed to start a new business and make her own mark on the world.
Kara was all the affection and longing in Lena’s heart that never truly went away, and only grew stronger the deeper Lena dove into the surprising complexity that comprised all of Kara’s personas.
Kara was still butterflies and blushing cheeks, but now she was also the internal battle between Lena’s overwhelming desire to know if her love for Kara could ever be reciprocated, and Lena’s desperate need to never lose Kara as a friend again.
Kara was the impossible dream Lena finally dared to dream. She was a leap of faith, a trust fall, a plea to the heavens for a blonde haired angel to be the one waiting to catch her.
And now.
Now Kara is the first name Lena says in the morning and the last name on her lips at night. She is the shoulder Lena cries on, the strong arms that hold her close and keep her safe. She is promises and candlelit dinners and sweet whispers in her ear.
And now, as they lace their fingers together, and Lena stares lovingly into those beautiful blue eyes before pressing a gentle kiss to Kara’s impossibly soft lips, Lena can say she knows without a doubt who Kara is.
She is the missing puzzle piece that completes her, the glue holding all of Lena’s broken pieces together. She is the daily warmth and affection that fills Lena’s mended heart to overflowing.
Above all else, Kara is and always will be home. Just like she will always be Lena’s perfect partner at game night, and she will always be the person who takes Lena’s breath away, who makes her feel like the luckiest woman alive. And if there is one thing she knows for certain, it’s that Kara will always be the love of Lena’s life.
Kara really is a beautiful name.
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Fight Me (1/1) (jegulus)
Regulus was mad. He was so mad in fact he was at a loss for words. And if Regulus was mad and he wasn't lecturing you, you knew you messed up big time.
Yet here they were, Regulus angry beyond speech, and James mischievously stubborn. Neither made a sound.
They sat across from each other as the world moved around them. The scene was beautiful really, so the pair of them staring at each other, equally matched in this challenge was rather obvious in the romantic and soft ambiance.
They were at a fancy restaurant, one of those where you had be on a wait list just for a reservation. There were deep velvet hangings and crystal chandeliers. Candles lined the walls in carved out nooks in the intricate stonework. Each table was oak and every chair ornate with engravings and armrests. The scotch was older then both of them, and really the food was impeccable.
If you looked at their faces you'd think they both hated everything about it. But no, they were just arguing and neither was ready to concede.
The only time they spoke was when the waiter came around, James and Regulus taking turns responding kindly to them; it was not the waitstaffs fault that they were locked into a clear battle of wills and wits. When the cheque came, they paid and silently exited the establishment, silently drove in the car, and silently walked up to their flat. The energy and tension was palpable.
Regulus entered the flat first, and began to walk up to settle for the night, however James stopped him by gently grabbing his wrist. Regulus turned, head held high thinking he had won, but James didn't speak. No, James just reeled him in, so they were nearly nose to nose. His golden brown eyes meeting the silvery storm of Regulus'.
And they will fight about who kissed who first, and whose hand was in whose hair first, and if it was Regulus who stepped back into the wall or if James pushed him up against it, but somehow they ended up in bed together.
All they had left was a path through the flat of clothes that were ripped off and thrown carelessly away as wandering hands begged to touch. Bite marks and love bites, bruises and red scratches from nails that dug into the skin as they trailed down the other's back. A mess of the sheets and of themselves.
And somewhere in it all, they lost what they were even fighting about in the first place.
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missmahgenta · 4 months
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(Fnaf movie) Christmas headcannons because why not
-Mike dislikes celebrating Christmas ever since his brother got kidnapped, and nowadays only celebrates it because of Abby
-That said, he feels bad that he can’t give her what he thinks the ideal Christmas would be. Their parents had sold most of the Christmas decorations by the third celebration without Garret, so the house looks barebones
-Still, he always makes sure to get a tree, even when he can’t afford a nice one (which has been the case for most of holidays where there was only the two of them).
-Abby LOVES making ornaments to put on the tree, and she’s very dedicated at making them. She loves when Mikes tags along, even though they look ugly
-Mike is not the best at cooking nor baking, and somehow even when following a simple cookie recipe word by word, something always goes wrong. It’s kind of amazing really
-After waking up from her coma, Vanessa kinda just starts tagging along the Schmidts at Abby’s insistence, not that Mike would oppose or anything, but he felt that if he was the one inviting her over, she would refuse because things are still a bit awkward between them (girlie just doesn’t understand why they still want to see her after everything, and doesn’t understand why they didn’t leave her to die like she feels she deserves). And her presence is pretty much demanded now during the holidays
-Christmas with her father was always weird. He loved keeping up a good image, and he would go all out, specifically at Freddy’s. He and Vanessa would decorate the entire place from top to bottom, and hell, he would even get his employees some gifts (they were barebones and cheap, yes, but hey, a gift is a gift)
-At their home, things would be more subtle, similar to a beige mom decor, but like, with subtle shades of yellow and purple. Christmas themed songs were not allowed inside that household, but if Vanessa behaved well, he would get some dumb Christmas movies for her to watch, occasionally tagging along just because.
-William would go all out on her gifts tho. Piles of toys and clothes and whatever she showed interest during the year, everything for his little girl
-And he would, at the same pace, destroy one of them every time she mildly displeased him, and he would make sure she was watching.
-After Freddy’s closed, Vanessa would make a point to get the animatronic little gifts. They were still children after all, and all children love receiving gifts
-Nowadays, Vanessa feels extremely weird getting any sort of gift, and just like Mike, wouldn’t celebrate Christmas if it weren’t for Abby. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t enjoy celebrating with them tho, in fact, she makes a point to make it as magical and as Christmas-zy as possible
-She made sure to get ugly sweaters with scarfs to combine. Like, absolutely hideous ones. The kind you wouldn’t wear outside of the occasion.
-One thing she can’t do to save her life is cooking, just like Mike. She is not allowed at the stove.
-And since no one knows how to make a good Christmas supper, they just decided to eat at Sparky’s, which is surprisingly empty during that day, save for that one talkative waiter that Abby finds funny
-They make a point of continuing Vanessa’s little tradition to give gifts to the animatronics, and she feels happy that she doesn’t have to do it alone anymore
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muns0nslov3r · 5 months
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joseph quinn loves how cute you are with his cousins. during christmas just cuddling with them while you all watch a movie, or talking all sweet with them when they show you something, or playing dress up or games with them. it drives joseph insane, seeing how sweet you are with them. it drives him so insane, he’s driving your poor pussy insane with little whispers that make your baby fever run wild. him pounding your pussy each night, growling that it’ll stick. that he’ll make it stick no matter what. after fucking, keeping his cock deep in you cuddling you while you calmed down in his arms. night after night, he tried and tried. one day, you texted him while he was out with some friends.
“my period is late.”
you texted him, joseph’s insisting thought was that you were pregnant. when he came home, and bought you a pregnancy test, he saw you in the bathroom. sobbing while you sat on the toilet, he looked down to see bloody panties of yours as he felt his excitement melt away. “oh baby.” he said as he held you close, after that.. you both had a nice warm bath. being in his arms as you felt tired from crying.. your eyes heavy and droopy as you stared up at him, soon shutting. once your period was done, he was on you like a hungry animal. the endless pounding each night, yeah some nights you didn’t. to have your poor cunt heal from his wild thrusts, once again. he got the text.
“my period is late again”
joseph prayed and prayed that you were actually pregnant, but once again. came home to you crying while bloody panties sat on the ground, joseph didn’t want to give up. but you both took a break from it for a while, four weeks later. you ended up roughly fucking again, drunkenly. you woke up the next day, a hangover like normal.. that slight sickness.. but it was more overwhelming. you found yourself vomiting into the toilet, joe was out at work again. you had been laying on the couch while watching tv, eating this snack you were weirdly craving. you didn’t think about it, sense you now just finally thought that you just couldn’t get pregnant. out of boredom you decided to take a test, seeing it was positive. staring at it in disbelief as you sobbed, taking two more. all positive, taking a photo of them and sending them to joseph. who soon an hour later got home, rushing to you as he looked at the tests. that day you both celebrated and sobbed, everyday you both cuddled anytime you guys got to. the baby shower was amazing, the gender reveal party was fun. you were so close to popping, it was now anyday. your little baby girl was so close to being here, during one of the ultrasounds.. your little baby didn’t show up on the screen. soon found out you had a miscarriage.
you and joseph were both shattered, seeing joseph miserable made you miserable, and joseph seeing you miserable made him miserable. it felt like a piece of you both was just ripped away, because it was. you both stopped trying for a baby, until around 5 months later.. you both shamelessly tried again. after a date joseph took you out to, you found out you were pregnant after a while. you both were scared, worried that it’ll end up being a miscarriage again. the baby shower was fun, same with the gender reveal. until it came up to the birthing process, it was stressful and painful for you. joe was worried sick for you, as you ended up having to have a c- section so you wouldn’t hurt you nor your baby. once joseph was finally able to see you and his baby, he cried. holding his sweet baby girl in his arms as she cooed, she had a lot of hair.. just like joseph’s hair. you joked that was why you were getting a lot of heart burn during your pregnancy.
joseph and you were blessed with the sweetest little thing, your guys little miracle baby. her name, was mary. she had the sweetest eyes, the cutest little gummy smile, and the most adorable curls.
she was you and joseph’s beautiful little girl.
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blehcupidd · 8 months
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Hello Gorgeous
Agent Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Wife!reader
Summary: Your husband, Jack, has been out on the field recently. He was constantly travelling around the globe, leaving you and your four year old daughter on the ranch.
Warnings: fluff, angst but not really, no use of y/n, hottie cowboy is your husband, grammar and spelling mistakes (I'm dyslexic), you have a 4 year old daughter called Sophia, after the events of Kingsman Golden Circle, Jack isn't meat ;), slight sexual innuendo, reader is a housewife (don't we all want to be Jacks housewife???), Reader is referred to more “feminine” terms such as mom, mommy, wife that sort of stuff
A/N: Short little one shot. I wanted Jack to be happy. Also writing this I got distracted by roblox colour or die, and I won so :). Then I got distracted by work at a pizza place; this is probably what people mean by me having adhd. But I'm in denial, so I wrote this the day after :)
WC-1014
Masterlist
Pedro & Characters Masterlist
During the four months, your husband was away, you and your four year old had done multiple things to distract each other. In the beginning, you were just distracting Sophia with her dad not being home. This shortly changed when you started to miss him, meaning you had started hugging your little girl more often. Sophia had no objections to this. If her daddy wasn’t there to hug her, then she would have her mommy.
With the summer heat coming down onto your ranch, you made sure to spend every moment outside or have the curtain open. The driveway was filled with the multicoloured drawings of chalk Sophia had drew, accompanied by your handwriting for the “Sophia, Mommy, Daddy and the horses’ names”.  Along the edges of the driveway, there used to be plain old boring grey rocks. The vast majority of the rocks were now coloured in many different mixes of paint.
Since Sophia was born, she was constantly being creative. This had carried on through to her being almost five. You and your husband learnt that to distract or make Sophia happy was to get the paints out. It's what you had been attempting to do throughout the four months. There hadn’t been any tears, not even when your clumsy girl had bumped into something, only the amazement of a purple bruise forming. Whilst your mothering skills were going overdrive being alone with some animals being bigger than you, and a small inquisitive child. Keeping the latter away from being unsupervised was hard with a massive land going so far out.
Today, you were brought with a surprise. Sophia was down in the dumps.
You had tried countless times to find what the problem was, but your mother's intuition only went so far. You started the morning with Sophia’s favourite; french toast, with extra sugar. This was enough to get a small smile and what the two of you were doing today. With Sophia always wanting to be creative and messy, she chose fingerpainting.
Setting up a blanket with a mat for the activities, Sophia brought the paints and paper. When Sophia was pressing her adorable small hands onto her ‘masterpiece’ it slowly clicked what the issue had been. Sophia had made a drawing of her dad riding on a horse with her or attempted it. Nevertheless, she was showing how she felt instead of telling you. Wiping your hands down, you shuffled towards your daughter.
“Is this what the problem is?” You quietly asked as you wrapped your arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple, much like what her father does to the two of you. “Are you missing Daddy?” Knowing that she had been caught she pouted her bottom lip and nodded.
After wiping the paint off of her fingers you lifted her into your lap, practically surrounding her with your body. “It's okay to cry, baby.” You comforted her, giving her more kisses. “I miss Daddy too, and when he comes back you can go out on the horsies again.” Giving her another kiss you started to see the smile that could light up a dark night sky. “There's that gorgeous smile!” As the smile got brighter, you came up with a solution to the horse problem. With being married to a cowboy, you had never learnt how to ride a horse. This was harsh for your little girl who wanted to do nothing more but ride them, even with her dad away, but the thought of you falling even with Jack there terrified you.
“How about we have our horsie fun?” You asked, seeing the confusion written across Sophia.
“Mama, you can’t ride the horsies. Silly!” Sophia was trying to figure out what you were thinking.
“Who said I was riding?” You got a shriek of enthusiasm from Sophia as you bounced your legs up and down. You carried on until the only thing you could hear from your baby was laughing her head off. “Let's finish our paintings and give them to Daddy when he comes home, how does that sound, sweetheart?”
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Pulling up to the drive, Jack could see the pretty drawings he knew his little girl had spent time drawing. The sight of the rocks had also changed, there were pretty colours. He felt happy that his girls had kept themselves occupied in his absence. Walking through the ranch, no one was in. Checking in all of the rooms, and he couldn't find his girls. 
Walking outside he could hear the laughter of what could be compared to angels singing. Looking out he saw the most beautiful sight known to man, his girls laughing and enjoying themselves. He was pulled out of his daze by himself and his inner voice, telling him to go see them. 
“Hello, gorgeous.”
A familiar southern drawl spoke, alerting you and Sophia. His eye contact with you was broken by his little cowgirl running full speed at him. “Daddy!”
“Hiya, what’s my cowgirl been doin’?” He asked repositioning her onto his hip, still walking towards you.
“Me and Mommy drew you pictures!” Only this is when Jack noticed the paint on his clothes, as well as his princess's clothes and face.
“Oh, that's wonderful,” the mess didn't stop him, Sophia was happy and that's all that mattered. Taking a seat next to you, he instantly received a bundle of kisses. “I missed you baby.”
“I missed you more.”
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Making dinner that night was the best feeling in the world for you and Jack. Sophia had her chicken nuggets whilst you and Jack had spaghetti bolognese. Stirring the bolognese, you felt a presence come up behind you. Sliding his hands along the sides of your waist, you were pulled into him.
“I really did miss you, Sugar,” Jack muttered into your ear. That's when you felt something growing against your ass. “Really missed you.”
“You can show me how much you missed me when Sophia is in bed.” You spoke into his neck, gazing your eyes up at your cowboy.
“Don't tempt me with a fun time, mama.”
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Alone Without You (Satoru Gojo x Reader)
TW: A tiny bit of angst? Not really? Otherwise no TW <3
Word Count: 526 Sorry it's so short once again!
This was the late night cuddle/rambles with Gojo that won the poll and I had to write it the same day the poll ended cause I got excited, lol! Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it and lmk if maybe there should be a continuation?
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You were accustomed to this. Laying in bed alone while your boyfriend worked late. You weren’t ever mad about it, just a little lonely. Tonight was no different than the rest. 
”I’ll be home for dinner tonight!”
He had promised you that before he left. You knew that he wouldn’t actually be home for dinner. Regardless, you had gone through the trouble of making his favorite food in the small hope that he might actually make it. Of course, you ended up eating alone, again. After that, you had showered and gotten changed into your favorite set of pajamas. So now here you were, laying on your side of your shared king sized bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was completely silent and yet you had completely missed the sound of familiar footsteps walking across the floor. You were so focused on the ceiling that you even failed to notice the bed dip.
“Y/n… I’m sorry I didn’t make it for dinner” The familiar voice snapped you out of your daze and you turned your head to face two beautiful blue eyes and messy white hair.
“It’s alright… I saved left overs for you…”
You offer Gojo a tired smile and he swears he can feel his breath catch in his throat. He had never managed to make it home until after you were asleep up until now. However, seeing you now with that tired smile glued to your face, he vows to make it home to this as much as possible from now on.
“Thank you, I really appreciate the effort you put into me, even when you know I won’t make it home in time…” Gojo means it. He had postponed dating for so long. Not just because he was prioritizing training, exorcizing curses, and his strength, but because he knew that because of his position, he would struggle to be there consistently for a future lover. And yet here you were, being so patient with him… what did he do to deserve you?
“S’nothing… m’glad you’re here…” Your words begin to mush together as your exhaustion starts to get the better of you and Gojo notices. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him, tracing his fingers softly up and down your back.
“I’m glad I’m here too… did you miss me?” You meet him with a tired giggle and tilt your head up to look at him.
“I always miss you…”
You press a careful kiss to his collarbone and close your eyes. You were ready to sleep now. You lifted your leg and wrapped it around Gojo as well as your arms. It was like you were trying to melt into him. He found it adorable and kissed the top of your head.
“Good night beautiful…” He was met with silence. For the first time in forever, you had been able to fall asleep in his arms. It gave you comfort. Therefore, you had passed out faster than you ever had before. When he noticed this, he let out a soft chuckle and closed his own eyes. 
You know… he could get used to this…
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Dionysus, Ariadne, and Hermes' friendship headcanons.
Ariadne knew that Dionysus and Hermes were a BFF package deal when she married Dionysus. At first she had no idea how she and Hermes would get along. Would he be annoying? Then when she realized that the other god was into toys like she was; she was so excited. They would go and put on puppet and magic shows for her husband's amusement. Racing toy boats and playing various games (with Dionysus often joining in). The other god was so playful; it was hard for her not to have fun.
Then there were the days her husband Dionysus suffered from random bouts of madness. Those days were the hardest. Ariadne wasn't scared of him, but he'd go away for her protection. Dionysus would request that Hermes alone would take care of his wife if she needed anything while Dionysus was gone. The messenger god would make sure that she and Dionysus could communicate while he was away and gave her updates on him. That way she knew he was safe and sound.
Dionysus and Ariadne entertain a lot given how many parties they'd host. Knowing how much Hermes likes to eat; they'd have him be their official food and drink taster. Nothing ever went to waste because Hermes always gave the extras to those who worked with him. They knew this because Persephone would send the couple thank you letters for the wine that Hermes dropped off in the underworld for her and Hades to have.
Dionysus, Ariadne, and Hermes love to go mini golfing, bowling, to arcades, and often watch silly comedies together. A guilty pleasure of theirs is Big Fat Liar.
Hermes suffers from migraines when the newest I-Phone or Android update rolls in. So much new messages and content to keep up with he admits. Dionysus knowing how important mental health is especially when it comes to his workaholic brother makes sure that the god has downtime to recuperate. Ariadne making him some baked whoopee pie treats. While Dionysus lets him sleep across their laps with a blanket over him. Ariadne and Dionysus have some quiet conversation while Hermes naps.
Sometimes Dionysus would struggle with an old trauma or mourn an old friend or child lost, then both Ariadne and Hermes would step in to help. Ariadne providing support, love, and caretaking as his wife. Hermes coming in as a friend and brother to help with healing. They all like to laugh and be merry so sometimes a good laugh is all that they really need to smile a bit again.
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leapdayowo · 11 months
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Goop!wally au
Joke book (1/3)
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After Barnaby had a good spook from their first encounter, he realized Wally was pretty harmless and curious. Maybe he found a new person to test his jokes on!
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neilanuruodo · 24 days
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An Aberration's Guide to Surviving in Baldur's Gate
Omeluum, weary of the struggle of existence as a lone illithid in the Underdark, decides to try its luck in the city. It arrives in Baldur's Gate with nothing more than its host's memories of and passion for tea, a few possessions, and enough money to (hopefully) start up a small shop. That, and a diamond-hard core of determination. It isn't looking to become fabulously wealthy, merely make enough to get by and fund its attempts to develop a supplement to replace the brains its biology requires it to eat.
It certainly doesn't expect to make any friends. After all, who would be so foolish as to trust an illithid?
The companion story to "On the Properties of Tea," this story explores the events through Omeluum's perspective. While there is a good deal of overlap, there are things it experiences, or notices, which are somewhat different than Blurg's perspective. Like the other, there are currently three chapters out, and more to come!
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