#some hurt/comfort | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minimallyminnie · 10 months

Text

Brothers with reader who’s really good at baking!

Gn reader, fluff, fluffy, some hurt, happy!

Lucifer

He loves it when you bake

But that being said he also hates it

For the sheer reason that everyone keeps fighting over again and again

Hell, even Barbatos and Luke threw hands the other day for a macaron from you!

That was saying something if Diavolo’s right hand man and an incredibly short angel wanted to fight for a macaron

So, to see what all the fuss was about he tried one

He never went back at all.

If Simeon or Satan or anyone were to throw hands

He would throw them to the ground

No. Hesitation.

He would probably like desserts that surprise him

Throw in a punch of cayenne pepper or something sour or crunchy and you’ll have a pleasantly surprised Lucifer

He doesn’t mind things that are simple and sweet either

Kinda like you. A simple human who’s kind to them despite how awful they can be to you at times

He stands next to you as you stir the batter and holds your face with one of his hands

As he presses a kiss to your lips, you lean in his hand

“I want you to remain with me like this…won’t you?

Mammon

You bet your arse that he’s going to freaking splurge on baking supplies

Anything for his s/o right?

He loves things with sour flavors a lot

He will pay you if he asks for you to make something for him

You don’t really mind not getting paid as long as you see your boyfriend happy but he seems to be insistent

But it’s not like anything special! He’s just paying for labor after all!

Of course he would deny it completely

He found out when he saw Beel in his demon form holding about ten muffins in his hands while Belphie was trying to get one from him

He only wants you to bake for him!

When he got the last one on the table, it was like the celestial realm went back for him or something

It was better than any of the Devildom bakeries and that was saying something

While he loves your baking, he also loves you as he proved that one day while you were baking

He wrapped his arms around your waist and when you looked back, he kissed you

“Hey, don’t mind if ya always bake by my side will ya..?”

Leviathan

Poor boy is so nervous to tell you that he wants something so he just opts for grabbing 3 of whatever you made before decking it out of the kitchen

You should tell him you can see him…

He loves it when you make themed desserts

Even more when it’s of anime he knows!

That one time you made Ruri-Chan cookies and his heart went like one of those shoujou girls

He really likes anything that’s creative!

So bored by simple flavors! He wants crazy things!

He’ll try anything you need him to, flavors, textures, scents

He’ll try to be honest about it if they look like a mess but he’ll end up stuttering more than usual

Like Mammon, he’ll deny it completely but unlike him, he’ll say it later on

He feels bad that you do basically everything so he goes out to help you wash dishes

He doesn’t mind but his brothers sure were surprised when he went out

When you kiss him as a thanks, he startles you when he pulls you back

“Y-you’re really amazing…D-don’t leave me…ok?

Satan

He doesn’t like desserts very much

You offered him a piece of angel cake (which he was incredibly annoyed at, adding on to the list of bad things that happened to him today…) and he just pushed the plate away and continued to work

You were hurt, of course but this was normal so you set the plate down next to him and went back to the kitchen to make more after the entire plate went missing

He regretted letting his sin slip out for no reason when you were just trying to do something nice so he decided to take just one bite

One bite couldn’t hurt.

Right?

Good grief he blinked and the whole piece was gone

He fell for your baking pretty fast

For you? Pretty much dropped.

He takes it out to clean later on but that night, he goes out and buys a special something for you

The next morning while everyone is out and about, you decided to stay in and bake some more

You feel a flat item nudge you in your back before turning around and seeing Satan with a rectangle gift in his hands

He gives it to you and when you open the intricately wrapped paper, there’s a baking book!

He apologizes, saying it wasn’t his intention to hurt you but you shush him with a kiss

Leaving the book on the counter you hold your arms around him

In return, he comes back from his surprise and holds you as he kisses your head

“For all the times I’ve been quiet I want to tell you to stay with me forever.”

Asmodeus

The first time he sees your baking he’s like

Astonished

He has to post this on Devilgram!!!!

Asmodeus takes about a hundred pictures of the cupcake before he looks around and takes one back to his room

Like a lot of the bakeries he’s tried, it’ll probably only be good in the appearance part

The taste? Probably shit.

But doesn’t mean he won’t try!

…

Well, look who’s going to be asking you for baked goods every week now.

He doesn’t care if it’ll go to his thighs or not, it tastes heavenly!

He’ll squeal in delight after the last bite, craving for more.

When you decide to make them in front of everyone, flour on your apron and buttercream on the side of your cheek, everyone is watching carefully at the cakes.

You swirl the cream over the cakes, sprinkling some tiny lemon flavored sprinkles before carefully placing bigger lemon looking candies on top of each one intricately

You wipe your head with your sleeve and grin at your hard work, taking just one photo which he thinks is blasphemy! Just one photo of beautiful cupcakes?! Are you crazy?!

You then tell them to enjoy while walking off to wash the dishes and everyone makes a go at it

The 24 cupcakes are gone in seconds, he took only two though intentionally

While the brothers go to the living room to fight, he goes to you when you’re done drying the dishes and handing you one. He presses a kiss to your cheek, smiling at your happiness

“My my! These cupcakes are adorable but you still are way better than them! Would you make these for me until the very end dear~?”

Beelzebub

WNDKDKDKDKWKE

Oh this man would be so down bad

He’s the avatar of gluttony and either way, he liked to eat in the Celestial Realm too

So first thing of his day, normal average (as you can get) day at home

He sees a plate on the table, he eats

Simple as that.

He sees his brothers actually fighting him for the plate to which he just gives it to them

He has one after all, what’s the harm in giving the rest to his brothers?

Well, they all had cleaning duty from you for the whole week after he ate the eclair

He wanted more.

That was the most heavenly devilishly amazing dessert he’s tasted in devildom and the Celestial Realm

Beelzebub now sneaks inside the kitchen when you’re there and watches you bake from step 1 to the end

You don’t mind, he’s quiet, washes his hands, offers to help hold or mix something

Who doesn’t get tired when they’re hand mixing something?

You also like the company, talking to a bowl of flour is…kinda boring when it doesn’t talk back. Beel will tell you what he thinks if you ask him, taste testing (which he loves even more now) or appearances

Even just listening to you talk while he stands or sit next to you, it’s nice and peaceful

The brothers eventually do come down and fight for the desserts before rushing back into their rooms like wasps and you just wash the dishes with him

When you’re done, you hand a tray of hidden tarts to Beel expecting him to devour all of them

But he just takes one, break it in half and gives it to you

You don’t expect it since he’s usually not so forward but he presses a kiss to your lips and blushes after

“I like it when you bake. Could you…bake and stay by my side forever…?”

Belphegor

Now. Considering how iffy you and Belphie were after…ahem…that incident, it’s a bit safe to assume that he had to work really hard to gain back his brothers and yours trust again

And he did, regretting deeply what he did considering you two were now together

He’s sleeping most of the time but when he hears fighting noises from the kitchen he sits up from the couch and looks inside to see Solomon, Asmodeus, and Lucifer fighting fist and fist????

(He definitely took photos of that)

When he looks at you who’s just ignoring the three, you offer him a slice of tiramisu cake

He takes it, confused and then he goes back to the attic

When he slices a piece off with his fork and puts it in his mouth

His mind almost explodes

It tasted…soft and amazing. The coffee delicately blending in with the bitter cocoa on top and the soft cream between the layers.

He eats it slowly but when the fork scrapes the plate, he keeps on wanting for more.

The next time you bake, he’s watching from the kitchen table.

You move with grace and love while you make it and he doesn’t understand how you can after everything his brothers and especially him did to you

His thoughts move around until a clink in front of him snaps him out

Belphie looks at the flan, and then you.

He eats it with you, smart move to put the tray of it outside on the dinner table so they wouldn’t bother you

You both finish and you happily ask for his opinion

He realizes that he won’t be able to understand you. You’re a puzzle piece that wasn’t apart of his family’s set but you fit in regardless.

So he does give you his opinion

He pulls you in and presses his head against yours

“I don’t understand how you can love me and smile at me after what I’ve done. But…I’d like to see it for the rest of my life.”

Fun fact, I hate how they just brushed off Belphie’s actions in lesson 16 and how we acted too 🤠 Handsomeness doesn’t excuse the shit he did.

Hope you enjoyed nonetheless!

#mindlessclow #x reader #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #obey me x y/n #obey me fanfic #obmswd #obey me nightbringer #fluff #some hurt/comfort

640 notes · View notes

booksteaandtoomuchtv · 5 months

Text

Burn The Ships (3/?)

A HUGE THANK YOU TO @snowbellewells FOR THIS INCREDIBLE ART. I wish I knew how to best express how amazing it feels to have someone make art for something I wrote. It is just the best feeling in the world. <3

THIS IS/WILL BE MATURE.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ???

Tagging: @anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4, @pirateswhore, @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert (let me know if you want to be added or dropped)

Exhaustion did not lovingly pull Emma into a peaceful oblivion where she could rest and forget. Rather, it dragged her into a brutal storm - the howling winds tore at her, the thunder rumbled threateningly deep in her bones, and emotions best forgotten rained down on her. She was alone, abandoned on the edge of a forest. The cold rain seeped into her bones, having already soaked through her clothing, as she stumbled forward toward… nothing. She had no place to call home.

In the way of dreams, Emma blinked and was on a beach. Her body ached as if she’d been walking for days. She wasn’t sure where she was going but walked on as waves pummelled the shoreline. It seemed she wasn’t alone, apparently, the storm would accompany her through these strange dreams.

She turned toward the turbulent waters and her next step landed on a wooden board. Her stomach plummeted as the ship was thrown from the rolling sea. Emma desperately reached out, trying to find something to keep her on the deck as the ship leaned dangerously into the water. The boards were too wet, the sea too hungry for new souls… Emma was being sucked under the water, lungs screaming for air.

I’ve got you.

Cool, crisp air filled her lungs. She was back on the deck of a ship, once more. The angry onslaught of violent waves had given way to playful swells that lapped gently against the hull. No other soul was aboard the ship, but Emma felt contented rather than alone. A word, a feeling, that had never carried meaning to her wrapped itself around her heart followed by a consuming fear - panic - it would be taken away.

You’re safe, love.

The softly accented voice reached through her dreams again, wrapping around her as warm and comforting as a well-loved blanket. Emma yearned to snuggle into the melody of that low voice. In that strange way of dreams, she suddenly felt certain that the voice could protect her from the painful reality that waited to greet her upon waking. If she could just melt into it, maybe it would prevent her from losing that feeling she’d spent a lifetime chasing.

Rest now.

And, at long last, with that voice and that feeling wrapped around her heart, Emma rested. §§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

The white wolf had been stunning, her fur seemed to shimmer with its own light source. But the woman who stormed out of his cabin the next morning was a sight to behold.

With her blonde waves flowing behind her and her emerald eyes wild, this wild woman charged onto the deck armed with only his letter opener and a lot of swagger. She acted as though she were a rival captain set on commandeering his ship rather than a damsel recently rescued from Pan’s clutches. She had taken the liberty of procuring clothing from his wardrobe before launching her assault, the deep plunging necklines of his shirts and the way his soft leather trousers wrapped around her curves distracting him long enough for her to strike out with her borrowed weapon.

Killian captured her wrist and forced her to release the letter opener in a quick motion. He’d offer to teach her how to properly wield any weapon of her choosing once they were better acquainted. Perhaps sometime after he was certain that he wasn’t in danger of finding the weapon buried somewhere in his flesh.

Sighing at her newest attempts to claw at his leather coat, he pulled her closer.

“I’m not your enemy,” he murmured to her as he wrapped his arms around her, pinning her arms to her side to prevent her from continuing her attack. He tried to focus on calming her and gaining control of the situation rather than the way she felt in his arms and the way her scent stirred something deep within him.

“You’re safe, love,” he soothed. The woman stilled.

Her frantic breathing slowed and the tension slipped from her limbs. The ocean lapping on the hull and their breathing were the only sounds for a few moments. It could have been romantic…if the situation were entirely different.

“If you promise to behave, I will let you go.”

She stared at him with frustration burning brightly behind her eyes. Her wildness and defiance stoked a desire in him - and his wolf - that he was becoming more difficult to ignore with every minute he spent in her presence.

After a moment, during which she held his gaze with hers as if trying to determine the trick in his offer, she nodded in agreement with his terms. He reluctantly released her.

The loss of contact left him desperate for any excuse to hold her again. He suppressed the whine his wolf let loose with a clearing of his throat. Then, with a bit of a flourish, he introduced himself to her.

“I am Captain Killian Jones and you’re aboard the Jolly Roger. You are welcome on my ship for as long as you wish.”

“HOOK?! You’re Captain Hook?” She wasn’t afraid of him, which seemed promising. Doesn’t mean she will love someone like you. Killian shoved away the taunting voice of his father and smiled at her as if she had said something particularly flattering.

“Ah, so you have heard of me.”

She looked at him flatly, clearly not impressed with his antics. “Is this ship enchanted?” The abrupt question was a bit unexpected. Of course, the Jolly Roger was enchanted - to keep a course he set, to alert him of guests aboard his ship, to hide treasures from unwelcome eyes - but the enchantments were subtle and not something that should be so easily detected.

He cocked an eyebrow to conceal his surprise. “I’m not giving secrets away to a lass who hasn’t given me her name.”

“Oh, so it is enchanted.” She looked around as if the spell work would reveal itself to her. She took a few deep breaths, frowned a bit, breathed in again, and turned back to look at him. “Emma Swan.”

“Why are you sniffing my ship,” he hesitated before deciding with certainty, “Swan?” He smiled, the name fit her perfectly - and felt so right leaving his lips.

“Better question. Why would you use magic to make it smell so… incredible?”

Killian scratched a spot behind his ear. What was the correct way to tell someone who woke up on a strange ship and wasn’t sure if you were another threat in the never-ending nightmare of Neverland or a possible ally that the scent they thought was part of a strange enchantment was a sign that they were in the presence of their mate? It seemed a lot to ask of anyone without adding that she had been Pan’s prisoner for some length of time before becoming the target of the most recent hunt.

“The incredible smell of salt and fish?” Smee grumbled. A few of the crew laughed. Emma looked thoroughly confused. Killian wasn’t sure if her confusion was at his comment or at the sudden realisation that they had an audience for this little episode.

Seeing as he’d completely forgotten his men still on the deck, he figured it was likely a bit of both. He did not want an audience for whatever was to follow.

“That’s enough from you, Mr Smee. There is a deck that needs to be swabbed.” Hook growled out. Grumbling, Smee stomped down the stairs to the main deck. The other crewmen fell into their own tasks and responsibilities understanding the example being made of the first mate.

Emma watched all of this with a small frown on her face.

Once they were alone on the quarterdeck, she focused her piercing emerald gaze at Killian. “Do you think he really doesn’t smell that…?”

Killian shook his head and answered softly, gently, “No, love, I don’t believe he smells anything but the sea.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “But…you, you smell it?” The words sounded as though she were begging him to confirm that she hadn’t taken leave of all of her senses.

“Aye.” He confirmed with a small smile.

Her eyes widened, panic flashing momentarily before several other emotions followed in quick succession. “Oh.”

Killian winced. “Aye.”

#a gift for kmomof4 #Emma x Killian #Emma Swan #Killian Jones #Captain Swan #killian x emma #ouat captain hook #cs fanfic #ouat #ouat fanfic #cs ff #fic by Jas #inspired by songs #inspired by Burn the Ships #werewolves #some horror elements #some hurt/comfort

36 notes · View notes

drama-glob · 6 months

Text

Always at the Worst of Times

Fizz strains himself while trying to help and now has to be taken care of by Ozzie.

The cybernetic demon didn’t say anything at first as he slowly breathed in and out in an effort to reduce the sudden pain spreading through his body, fighting the prickling of tears in his eyes. Ozzie stared anxiously as he knelt down and extended his hands in case Fizz possibly collapsed or just needed him for support. “I think I just overexerted myself that’s all,” Fizzarolli finally answered with a wince before he blinked a few times as he tried to clear up his vision. Sadly, his exercise to dull the pain had yet to work, but he refused to accept this as he still attempted to take a couple steps to now try and walk it off. The performing imp exhaled sharply as he legs wobbled slightly against his will. He then looked up at the other with a forced smile and said, “There. Just needed to-”

Suddenly, his left knee gave out and he found himself stumbling forward towards the floor, only to be saved by Ozzie’s large hands. Fizz tilted his head up to see the royal chimera’s trio of worried and knowing expressions, followed by the Deadly Sin gently telling him with a touch of admonishment, “You don’t have to put on a brave face for me baby.” He then gave a sad smile as he bestowed a brief kiss on Fizz’s lips and delicately picked him up bridle-style. “Come on. Let’s take care of you first.” Ozzie proceeded to stand back up, cradling the other and heading out of the kitchen to go back to their bedroom.

Here is the link on AO3:

@charsawdeath @enbydemirainbowbigfoot @pastaprincess @my-dark-lord You know Ozzie's always ready with the TLC. ^_^<3<3<3

38 notes · View notes

andromedavwrites · 3 months

Text

pov: i drop an album but it’s all ever after high fanfictions on AO3 and not music

#ever after high #eah #i will do it #i already have ideas #i might be working on one right now idk #they’re going to be inspired by songs i enjoy from specific artists #which is why i called them an album #anyway you’ll get some ships #some hurt/comfort #some all hurt no comfort #and some other stuff

15 notes · View notes

cherry-pop-elf · 29 days

Text

“Sometimes, when I look into her eyes, I see him. A flicker, like that of a fire work. He’s there. As fleeting as the sizzle of a spark. He’s there. As if he never even left…”

10 notes · View notes

autumn-solitude · 2 months

Text

Killer wants to sleep in Cross’ bed despite there being multiple rooms (bodyguard au)

It was late.

“So I said, nah, I’ll mustard up some energy.”

Very late.

“C’mon, Crossy. That’s where you’re supposed to laugh.”

Late enough that everyone in the house should have been asleep, and yet here Cross was, listening to Killer’s poor attempts to engage him in conversation.

“Hey? Hey Cross?” Killer was propped up on an elbow, having made himself comfy. “Crisscross. My client with the hot, hot bod and burly man tits aka padding aka just ecto under that tight, tight tank. My fit witness to protect. You awake?”

“Why are you in my bed?” Cross eventually grumped, sighing in aggravation as Killer eagerly perked up and sidled closer across the mattress.

“I’m cold.” Killer whispered conspiratorially, eye sockets scrunched up gleefully with a massive shit-eating grin firmly in place.

Cross didn’t fully believe the excuse; he could see through the mask by now.

Killer was acting as if several days ago he’d never being buried alive in mud. As if being frantically dug out by hand, carefully revived, and then painstakingly cleaned off hadn’t been a traumatizing experience on top of Killer believing that Cross had been successfully abducted; that Killer had failed his duty as Cross’ bodyguard.

“…you are aware that there is a fireplace in Dream’s living room?” Cross questioned seriously, struggling to banish the soul-wrenching sight of Killer’s bones being caked with mud, the worst of it solidified within parted teeth and sockets, as if Killer had been cruelly pinned face first into the wet muddy hound before being buried in it, alone and-

“Sure. I know.” Killer inched closer with a curious tilt of his skull. “But you know what?”

“Killer.” A warning. A plea to take it easy after such an experience. Cross bunched up slightly, an automatic response to someone encroaching on his personal space. The ex-soldier watched in trepidation as Killer’s grin hitched up, signaling he was about to lay his next words on thick and dramatic.

“I don’t want the fireplace.” Killer placed a hand to his brow. “You have ruined me by providing your toasty body to warm me up after that boat incident in the harbor.”

Cross was glad Killer was recovering well from the whole buried in mud ordeal, but was this really the best way to cope with the nightmares that followed? Not that Cross really had a say in how anyone else handled their trauma, considering Cross himself didn’t always have the best coping methods either.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you Crossy?” Killer invaded Cross’ space confidently as he experimently slid a hand along the other’s jaw, lightly running the tips of his phalange along. “You’re hotter than any fire.” The bones clicked along, before the phalange trace the underside of Cross’ jaw. “A beacon in the dark to a cold bastard like me to watch your fine, fine backside while I get all warm and fuzzy. A burning presence that-urk!” Killer was cut off as he was suddenly yanked forward right where he wanted to be, his face pressed directly into Cross’ chest. “Hell yeah.” Came a muffled whimper of surprise.

“I’m too tired for this bullshit of yours.” Cross maneuvered an eager Killer away from his summoned deep purple ecto beneath the tank top (Killer protested this by squirming and trying to turn back around). With a grumble, Cross flipped Killer over again, then dragged him backward into his body, sleepily thinking how perfectly Killer fit the line of his body from chest to thighs as he burned off excess magic. “Go to sleep.” Maybe he could help the other skeleton monster stave off any lingering nightmares, like this. Because Killer did have a point that Crosd had shared his body heat, when Killer had been shivering from icy cold water after being flung from their fishing boat.

“Holy shit.” Killer wheezed out as Cross’ arms wrapped around his waist, one under his lower back and one below his wavering target soul over his waist. Killer’s breath hitched when Cross snuggled in closer and tucked the bodyguard’s skull beneath his jaw. Killer lie stunned, hands gripping the sheets before unlatching to go to Cross’ in a death grip of disbelief. Cross was spooning him! Damn, he really was warm and toasty. “You sure know how to treat a guy right, Cross.”

An actual honest answer.

Amazing.

Cross was too exhausted and emotionally compromised to think about that honestly.

“You’re blushing, aren’t you?” Killer teased, but without the usual sass. “I have that effect on people.” Tacked on, as if to cover himself from having an emotion over being so close to Cross.

“Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.” The ex-soldier mumbled irritably (he was blushing, dammit) as he squeezed Killer tighter to him, in an effort to stop the excited squirming. Cross relaxed incrementally once Killer finally settled, albeit oddly letting out little wheezes of breath and twitches until Cross realized he’d been holding Killer too tightly and loosened his grip, horrified if the action and hoping he didn’t make Killer feel trapped like he had in that mud pit.

“Hngh.” Killer issued out unintelligibly before suddenly turning over in Cross’ arms to plant his face straight back into Cross’ chest, voice coming out dazed and muffled, hands drifting lower as the bodyguard cupped the back of Cross’ shorts experimentally. Killer sighed wistfully at what he found, tone shifting to cover unease as it became light and salicious. “Oh yeah, that’s the shit.”

“Killer…” Cross moved his arms, tenderly placing his hand to the back of Killer’s skull and cervical vertebrae, drawing out a delighted gleeful gasp. The ex-soldier proceeded to smother his bodyguard by shoving the Killer’s face harder into the tank covered ecto, prepared to let go the moment Killer showed any signs of discomfort. However, being crushed to solid ecto warmth apparently was a-okay to the other monster and Cross let out a patient sigh but a firm “Hands off!”

“Noooo your summoned ass feels great in my hands.” Killer protested, face smothered by ecto and not at all put out by this as his hands moved.

Cross let out a surprised yelp.

“And would you look at that? It slaps nicely under my hands too, soldier boy.”

Dream, peering into the room, shook his skull in bemusement over the sight of the ensuing wrestling match. He didn’t believe he was ever going to understand what kind of relationship was forming between Killer and Cross. But at the very least the two could find comfort in one another after what had happened. But Dream and Swap still had the culprits to deal with, even though the little group was no longer a threat. The would-be abductors could possibly have information to help piece together how Nightmare was getting instructions to others outside of his prison cell.

Killer suddenly let out a delighted whoop over being pinned onto his back on the bed by a fond of exasperated Cross, soul an inverted heart as a pale white eye light gazed up.

With a resigned sigh over the continued overtime, but happy both monsters were okay, Dream finally withdrew from the cracked open door to return to his own room. Dream idly wondered if Killer could still be employed as a bodyguard after this was all over with, when it was clear that not only was Killer interested in Cross’ well being despite being an ass, he also was very attracted to Cross, even if Killer would deny it was more than the ex-soldier’s body he was interested in. But that pale eye light fondly watching Cross with a soft smile was different than Dream had ever seen Killer direct to anyone since he’d know the bodyguard.

#undertale au #bodyguard au #cross sans #killer sans #cross x killer #snippet #a lil suggestive #Some hurt/comfort #left unspoken #kross ship #Some feels unaddressed b/c yes emotionally constipated skeleton monsters

13 notes · View notes

masterjedilenawrites · 2 years

Note

Just Hux would be interesting. I’m convinced there’s more to him defecting from the First Order than “I hate Kylo.”But reader fics are 😍 How about some grumpy/sunshine? “Why do you stick around with a miseryguts like me?” meets “we’re two sides of the same coin, right?”Or there’s the ridiculous thing my brain did with another one of the grumpy prompts: “Don’t make a big deal out of this. You like hugs, right? so... here's a Hux.” 🤣 Whatever you do with be read happily. 💕

Okay okay... I have a multi-chapter fic in the works for Hux (still haven't decided if I'll do x reader or x OC yet). But I love the grumpy/sunshine prompts so imma whip up a one-shot in the meantime 😁

Hux x Reader | 1.6k words

It had been such a long, tiring, stupid week for Hux. You could tell by the way he held his shoulders tensely, the way his eyes zoned out when walking down long hallways. He answered questions with a sigh instead of a scoff. He hadn't been seen anywhere near the mess hall for quite some time. And you'd caught at least a dozen errors in the reports he filed for your department. What a long week, indeed.

And it was only Monday.

Such times were not infrequent for the General, unfortunately, but he always sought solace from you. Without fail, he'd show up on the other side of your door later in the evening, hair disheveled and coat buttons undone, eyes searching yours for some kind of reassurance. You'd invite him in and pop open a bottle of wine, usually one he'd given you as a gift since you knew nothing about how to pick out a good one.

You'd let him rant and ramble, gripe and groan, until he wore himself out. Sometimes he'd leave with an awkward thank-you dancing on his tongue but never making it further into the open. Other times he'd fall asleep on your couch and you'd leave him cozied up under a spare blanket to go retire yourself. He'd be gone by the time you woke, but the next time you saw him he'd have that same look of shy gratitude.

You supposed that's why you continued to let him in. He wasn't exactly your superior, but you were sure there was a level of scandal involved with having the General of the Army drinking wine on the couch of the Chief Ordnance Supervisor every other night. You knew from his respectful attitude that he would not take advantage. He really just wanted an outlet after a long day. But you often wondered if he might be looking for something else by going to you. And it was only ever you. Maybe one of these times you'd get more from him than a reserved smile and a stammered good-night.

So it was quite surprising, and concerning, when later that night his knock never came. You paced about your quarters, unsure what else to do with yourself for the evening, wondering if he may still come and not wanting to get yourself caught up in a different task only to be interrupted from it. When the hour got too late for it to be likely that he would show, you debated what to do. Your bed looked so warm and inviting; you'd had quite the day yourself, to be fair.

But in the back of your mind, you couldn't stop seeing his terse expressions and dragging feet. You knew he'd had a rough day. You knew he needed relief. Comfort. And that nagging need to be the one to provide it for him was one you knew you wouldn't be able to quiet no matter how tired you yourself were.

So you slipped your coat back on, shoved your feet into your boots, and grabbed the bottle of wine you hadn't yet finished from his last visit. Time to find the General.

You figured of all the places he could be other than your room, it would be his office. That's presumably where he'd holed himself up in the past, before having met you. He wasn't the type to give up on a day and go to bed. No, he'd be toiling away over a stack of paperwork, pretending his problems would go away if only he thumbed through enough reports.

You only knocked once before letting yourself into his relatively small office. Your guess had been correct; Hux was there, hunched over his desk, one hand lazily swirling a glass with some kind of brown liquid and the other holding up a piece of paper. It was a sight you'd probably come across a hundred times before. But this time, knowing what you were walking into, there were some notable differences. Stray strands of ginger hair falling into his face. Eyes bloodshot and unfocused. The lamp light dimmed low and unwelcoming.

Hux glanced up as you silently entered and took a seat across from him. His gaze continued to follow your movements as you uncorked the wine bottle you'd brought and poured it into an unused glass from the mini-bar by his desk. After settling into your seat and taking a few gulps, you finally met his gaze with a little smirk.

"Rough day?"

That's how you usually started these conversations, albeit, you were usually in the comfort of your own room, tucking your feet under you as you curled up in the corner of your couch, getting ready to take whatever burdens Hux needed to dump out.

Hux sighed, finishing off his own drink and abandoning his stack of papers as he leaned backward. He grasped his empty glass in his lap, peered down into it for a second. "You don't have to be here."

"I know," you said immediately.

His eyes flicked back up to yours. "Then why are you here?"

You considered for a moment. You knew why, you just weren't sure if you should admit it. "I guess I couldn't fall asleep knowing you were out here feeling miserable all by yourself."

He scoffed a bit at that, looking back down at his glass as if considering whether he should refill it yet. "I'm not miserable, it's just... I just...."

"Had a bad day," you stated plainly, nodding at him for emphasis. "I know. I've become quite familiar with your bad days."

"Yes," he scoffed again. He seemed more annoyed at himself than anything. "Too familiar. I came to that realization when riding the lift to your floor earlier. I had only ever meant to go to you that one time, because it'd been a bad day for you, too, and I knew you'd understand. But then one time turned into... Lord, I couldn't even put a number on it. I'm afraid I've created a rather unfair arrangement for you. I didn't want to keep imposing."

He seemed to have decided while talking that he would refill his glass, so when he finished he kicked forward and began preparing another drink. You sat silent, pondering his words. You supposed it was considerate of him, to give you a break from hearing his woes. But you'd never really seen it like that. You'd never felt like you were being used or imposed upon. You'd thought... well, you'd thought you were simply being his friend.

"You aren't an imposition, Hux," you eventually said. He paused with his fingers hovering over the ice bucket. "If I didn't care about your problems, I wouldn't have even opened the door for you. And I wouldn't have come all the way down here tonight."

"But why?" he turned, exasperated, drink left forgotten on the sideboard. "Why do you stick around with a misery-guts like me? Why do you care at all?"

He was getting worked up, as he tended to with things he didn't understand, situations that he could predict or control. Breaths coming out shorter and heavier, hands clenching at his sides. You stood, instinctually reaching out to him even though you'd never shared such a touch before. Your hands rested on his arms, just above his elbows, and you squeezed just enough to hopefully ground him.

"Hux..." You faltered, unsure what to say as the awareness of your close proximity started to sink in. You'd never gone to him like this, no matter how upset he'd been in the past. What were you to say now?

"Look..." you started slowly, trusting, praying, you'd figure out the right thing to say along the way. "We're two sides of the same coin, right? We're both leaders, both under an immense amount of pressure, both with pasts we wish we could forget. You... you have to talk about it. The more you can put your problems into words, the better you understand them, the more in-control you feel over them. Me, I just work my shit out in the training gym. If I can push myself to run faster or punch harder or spar quicker... then I feel like I can handle anything outside that room. I'm okay sitting on a couch and listening to you vent. In fact, sometimes I look forward to it. Not that I like seeing you upset, I just... I want to be there for you."

"Why?"

You hadn't actually answered that question yet, had you? You'd been rambling, trying to reassure him without having to actually come out and confess why you cared. You were intensely aware of how his arms felt in your hands, the stiffness of his coat sleeves, the shape of his muscles and tendons. Why were you still holding him? You should let go. But you couldn't. You were afraid you might fall if you did.

"I... I..." you mumbled, unable to look him in the eyes any longer. Your throat suddenly felt dry. You forced down a swallow. "I don't know why. I know I care, but I don't know why. I just do."

Your hands were sliding down his arms, trying to break free but unable to pull completely away. Or maybe he was the one moving his arms, bringing his hands up to yours to clasp gently as he tried to ground himself.

"I don't know, either," he said, causing you to finally look back up at him. "Why I care, that is. But I know I do, too."

He offered a smile, easing your discomfort into a smile of your own.

"I still don't wish to impose," he continued. "Perhaps... Well, perhaps we should spend other times with each other, not just on the bad days?"

There was an uncharacteristic warmth in his eyes, one you suspected you were the only one fortunate enough to have ever seen. If you played your cards right, perhaps you'd always be the only one.

"I think that's a good idea."

Baddies Tag List: @damerondala, @dangerousstrawberrypie, @fallingforthem, @harleyevanstan, @imabeautifulbutterfly, @justanothersadperson93, @misogirl828, @itsagrimm, @call-me-a-fool, @error6gendernotfound, @theclonesdeservebetter, @salaminus, @Techie-bear

(Join my tag list here)

#star wars #armitage hux #general hux #hux x reader #some hurt/comfort #grumpy sunshine prompts #soft side of the force

81 notes · View notes

how-about-gay · 2 years

Text

How the everloving fuck am i supposed to do anything vaguely responsible while BILLY BUTCHER is right there !!!!

#watching s2 ep 5 #its killing me #all i wanna do is an aftermath fic #some hurt/comfort #butcher is gonna be covered in bruises #im not great at writing #but i can draw the cunts #karl urban #billy butcher #the boys #william butcher #hughie #hughie campbell #butchie #im dying

31 notes · View notes

dylan-o-yumm · 9 months

Note

hi <33!! so now that your requests are open…

I’ve been always thinking about husband!Leon (maybe infinite darkness or death island Leon, I will leave that to you) just coming home after a long mission, so reader runs a bath and help him relieve his stress in many ways… y’know 👀.

hope you have a great day!! (i’m sorry i am not good at explaining scenarios😭)

I gotchu, sweet anon. I already had something similar in my notes of what I’ve been dying to write, so you just gave me even more reason to 🤭

Might not add smut, just cause it takes me way too long. Plus we need some more Leon Fluff and Angst. There is a shit load of Leon smut out there (which is all amazing I read so much of it lol) I just wanna give some variety! Hope that’s alright with you Anon!

#some hurt/comfort #my favourite #ask #request #send in more if you’d like

3 notes · View notes

hellcheerficdatabase · 10 months

Text

wish i loved you in the 90s

Author: @lafillesversion

Rating/Warning: Explicit

Chapter Count: 9/9 (part 1 of invisible string series)

Description: 10 years after Hawkins (and hundreds of miles away) Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson find themselves thrust back together when their daughters share a dance class.

Tags: Alternate Universe- no vecna, future fic, girl dad!Eddie, girl mom!Chrissy, tooth-rotting fluff, eventual smut, smut, one big happy family, some hurt/comfort, alternating POV, multiple chapters, part of a series, status: completed

2 notes · View notes

mild-incompetence · 8 months

Text

I like how we don’t see Fizz completely until he has his horns covered and how Fizz also doesn’t wake up Ozzie until he has his horns covered.

That whilst he’s lying on Ozzie he is still almost completely under the cover. You can barely see the tip of his face and his arm.

But then the alarm goes off and he has hidden himself entirely under the sheet.

#helluva boss #helluva boss season 2 #youtube #vivziepop #helluva boss fizzarolli #helluva boss ozzie #helluva Boss - OOPS #I need a fic about this immediately #some emotional hurt/comfort #if it gets written u have to send me a link

4K notes · View notes

booksteaandtoomuchtv · 7 months

Text

Burn The Ships (1/5)

THIS IS/WILL BE MATURE.

NOW WITH BEAUTIFUL COVER ART BY @snowbellewells

AO3 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

Summary: Pan and his pack of gruesome werewolves torment and put an end to individuals who find themselves unlucky enough to be a guest of Neverland. After being betrayed by her ex, Emma finds herself the game in this month’s hunt.

Captain Hook has never found the sport particularly alluring, preferring to spend his change far from Pan’s cruel crew. When he catches the scent of his mate, he is forced to join in the hunt to find her before the others can.

Saving her will mean betraying Pan and no one betrays Peter Pan and lives to tell about it.

@anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @pirateswhore, @stahlopp, @teamhook, @tiganasummertreee, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert

Author Note: This little fic is a birthday gift for the always encouraging and absolutely wonderful @kmomof4. I was initially drawn to Moonlight Sonata because it is also one of my favourites and the story behind the song felt like Killian meeting Emma for the first time. (I also love Für Elise but it doesn’t make me think of CS as much as Snowing and I cannot really explain that.) Then, I thought “oooh, CS PHANTOM OF THE OPERA?!” for about thirty seconds before realising that maybe I did not want to take that on while I was trying to finish up Witchy Woman and plotting the CS Miraculous Fic and that one Bridgerton-based CS Fic. But, then, I listened to Burn the Ships and read about the inspiration behind those lyrics and absolutely knew that was the one. What is more Captain Swain than battling demons (internal and external) and enduring together? Anywhoosies, HAPPY BIRTHDAY (this month)!! Thank you so much for all the flails, the sanity checking, the gifs, the cheerleading, and for just generally being one of the brightest lights in all of our lives. (Edit: atge birthday is on the 15th, I know. This whole thing happened where this was a two-parter and now it is a whole long thing and the posting schedule SHOULD work out so the whole thing is done by the 15th.)

Emma woke to the harsh sunlight infiltrating the discoloured curtains hanging limply over the large window her lumpy mattress had been pushed against. This was the worst part of her day - these moments in which the lie of her dreams, even the worst of them, gave way to the nightmarish truth of her reality. She fought against the dread seeping into her heart and tried to hold on to the last remnants of her dream, but it faded away as the scarred wardrobe came into clearer focus before her.

Despair, however, was less easily shaken. That endless emptiness accompanied her as she started toward the water basin to splash cold water on her face. Her gaze lifted to meet the empty emerald eyes she knew would stare back at her. She had watched helplessly as the hope drained from them, over the last several months, taking with it the anger and defiance that once glimmered behind them.

Fantasies, like hope, were for those with people or a pack, who cared. Lone wolves, orphaned at birth and betrayed to the monster who ruled this island by their shitty ex-fiancées, weren’t missed. And without any to notice your absence, who would know to rescue you?

“Cheer up,” a cheerful boyish voice chirped from behind her. She jumped and spun around - having your back to the demon was never a good idea. Pan was there, in the middle of the dreary room, looking at her with a dark sort of crazed humour dancing behind his eyes. That look meant he had a new twisted game to play. Her stomach fell and icy fear gripped her heart - losing came at a high price in Neverland and she always lost.

“As you doubtlessly know, the moon will be full tonight.” Pan paused and waited for her to respond. As if any wolf would be oblivious to the phases of the moon, she buried her annoyance at the patronising question and nodded for him to continue. “Tonight, I am letting you out of the garden. You’ll get to run the length of the island.”

Emma knew there was a catch, but after spending several transformations pacing the tiny gated garden, the prospect of running had her heart racing with excitement.

“As you lead us in tonight’s hunt.”

Her blood turned to ice in her veins. She was going to die tonight.

§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§

“OOOHHHH, CAPTAIN!” A sing-song voice called from somewhere high on the main mast.

“Pan, to what do we owe this unexpected visit?” Hook called back genially. He swept his arms out wide, in a welcoming gesture, discretely sliding the small vial into a hidden pocket of his coat.

Pan flew lower, hovering just above head height, forcing Killian to look up at him. A sweet scent filled the air between, something soft and warm. Killian couldn’t hear Pan's next words as the wolf within tried to locate the source of the scent. With the change coming so soon, Killian knew he would struggle to fight the impulses of the wolf. He had to get away from this enchanting distraction before Pan noticed his attention was elsewhere.

“Let’s discuss whatever business you have away from listening ears.” Hook gestured toward the ladder leading to his quarters, hoping the breeze would not penetrate the boards.

“As you well know, the hunt will be tonight. I do hope you and your crew will attend.” Pan started, as Killian filled a glass with rum in an effort to steady himself. The room around him was saturated with the warm - Vanilla? No, not quite. What is the point of being a bloody wolf if I can’t determine a bleeding smell? - scent. Could a scent be alluring and inviting? Because Killian felt an inexplicable sense of contentedness, something cosy he was drawn to like the heat of a fire, that seemed directly related to the sudden arrival of the scent. Was this possibly a new torture device derived from this cruel realm?

"What do you say, Captain?" Pan sneered, the last word sounding as an insult rather than a well-earned title.

"I'll not be joining your pack of savage, cruel beasts as they set out to torment an innocent you have captured for a barbaric ritual of bloodlust and cruelty."

"We're all wolves, Hook," Pan responded. "You can keep to your ridiculous code, acting as though you are a gentleman despite the tasks you perform in your service to me. But, you cannot deny that the same blood-thirsty animal lives under your skin. One day, you'll relish letting the darkness play alongside my pack. We're the same at the heart of it."

"I am nothi…"

"Ah, ah, Captain, you wouldn't want to say anything regretful, now, would you?" Pan smiled his cruelest smile and Killian swallowed down his annoyance. The last time Killian had crossed Pan still hurt as fresh as the night Pan’s pack had stolen Milah’s pup from his ship. Killian heard Bae’s weak howls from the depths of the Mermaid Lagoon and raced toward his ship as quickly as possible in the dense jungle. When his paws landed with heavy thuds on the wooden gangway, the overly sweet, coppery smell of blood filled the air - air that was notably barren of any of the sounds or scents that had made the Jolly Roger home. Without even a single survivor to share the burden of grief and burial, laying his sailors to rest had taken days - purging the Jolly of all evidence of the massacre had taken much longer.

“Aye,” Killian growled out.

“Good, lad.” Pan evaporated, leaving him alone in his cabin. The sweet scent that had entranced him moments before faded away. Realisation dawning, Killian swore but did nothing to soothe the sudden rage burning hot through him.

The bloody demon had his mate.

31 notes · View notes