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peachpitfics · 14 days

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Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding. In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

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cherrysnip · 29 days

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sincerely yours - choi seungcheol

pairing: seungcheol x afab!reader

content: married life, dad!seungcheol's reaction when your daughter received a love letter.

(spoiler alert: he freaked out😭)

word count: 1.5k

Tuesday nights have always been Seungcheol's turn to wash the dishes. In retrospect, no one can even make him do a single household chore when he was younger. He grew up surrounded by helpers who were paid to do the job so he didn't try as much to learn them.

However, that changed when he married you. Probably it was because of how you were raised differently from him but you’re not comfortable of having other people hovering around your house to "do things you can do on your own". And unwilling as he was at first, Seungcheol just obeyed what you wanted because well, that's how whipped he is. (He'd undoubtedly say yes had you even declared the sky green.)

So here he is, seven years later, a "master" on the craft of washing the dishes. It's silly how such a simple thing could make him so happy but really, it wasn't easy for him to reach this point. He broke plates after plates that he swore at one point he saw you gritting your teeth like you were one thread away from strangling him.

But he said that every time you would smile at him and utter a soft thank you, hell, everything's worth it.

"Why are you smiling like a fool?"

He turned to see you leaning on the counter watching him with suspicion. A sheepish smile escaped from Seungcheol's lips as he reached out for a dry towel to wipe his hands.

"You don't have to know," he teased.

Your brows furrowed, "You better not be thinking of another woman or else..."

Seungcheol chuckled and walked towards you. He leaned, placing his hands on your sides, caging you on the counter. The action was so sudden it caught you off guard.

"How would I do that when you're everything I think about every waking day of my life? Hmm?" He planted a kiss on your shoulder which made you gasp. Years into your marriage but this little things your husband does still makes you giddy like a teenager. And of course, the blush spreading all over your face didn't escape Seungcheol, causing him to grin wider. Your reaction to his touch will always be his favorite drug.

"Now, you're just flattering me..."

"I'm being sincere," Seungcheol insisted and met your eyes. "I still can't believe that after all these years, I'm actually married to you. How can I be so damn lucky?"

After he said that, your pouting lips turned into a wide smile. He is such a dork, you thought. You can't resist it anymore so you cupped his cheeks to kiss the tip of his nose. Being the competitive guy that he is, he did the same to you while chuckling.

"I'm luckier to have married you, Cheollie. You're everything I've dreamed of a husband."

"Are you sure? I remember six years ago, you said you'll divorce me because I forgot to clean our room."

"Well, you already learned your lesson, didn't you?"

Seungcheol nodded, "I most certainly did."

"Oh by the way, I have something to tell you," you said a little bit later. Your arms were already wrapped around Seungcheol's waist with your chin on his broad chest.

"Baby no. 3?" Seungcheol asked hopefully and he only received a pinch on his side. "Aw! I'm just kidding sweetheart!"

"Tss," You removed yourself from Seungcheol but you still didn't let go of his arm while you gently dragged him to your living room. You picked up something from your coffee table and even though he was basically towering over you, he still wasn't able to have a clear sight of what it was because you were quick to hide it on your back.

"What is it?” He curiously asked but instead of answering him immediately, you slightly squeezed his arm."Promise me you won't have a heart attack?"

"How can I promise that sweetheart? Come on."

"Well, okay. Just please don't pass out."

"You're just making me nervous."

You pursed your lips and handed him the familiar heart-shaped paper. The last time he got a hold of something similar to this was during Valentine's Day and he almost lashed out. Good thing, you were able to prevent him from doing so.

"W-what's the meaning of this?"

You clicked your tongue trying to supress your laughter. Knowing your husband, you kind of expected this reaction from him already.

"Found that in your daughter's workbook. I was helping her with her assignment and that fell."

"Damn it! Seriously?" Seungcheol dramatically gasped and stared at the piece of paper again. "Sweetheart, you've already read this haven't you?"

"I did."

"And you're not bothered?"

"No, I'm not. Actually, I find it cute," you replied.

"It isn't." Seungcheol almost shouted but tried hard not to make it too loud because he was well aware the twins were already sleeping. "Look here sweet, whoever this kid was, confessed he has a crush on Chaewon and even wrote I LOVE YOU! He wrote I LOVE YOU to our daughter!"

You finally burst into fits of laughter, "What's wrong with that?"

Seungcheol was starting to get annoyed now but it immediately dissipated when you touched his arm and guided him to sit on the couch.

"Calm down Cheollie. It's just a simple note. No need to fret so much about it," you tried to ease him and Seungcheol sighed. He reached for your hand and pressed it as if he's trying to summon his lost composure.

"I mean...that kid wrote those words for our daughter. To our princess. And he's only what? Six years old? Does he even know what it means?"

"Don't insult the feelings of that kid, Cheollie. You yourself even proposed to someone when you were just what? Three?"

Shock passed through Seungcheol's face. He was just going to defend himself when you waved your free hand. "Don't even try to deny it. It was your mom who told me about it."

"Fine. But that's beside the point...last time it was Jungwon. Our little prince received a similar letter with three red roses on Valentine's Day and now it's Chaewon...and an I love you? God! The moment we received the result of your pregnancy test even felt like it just happened yesterday and now, they're receiving these...things. It's too fast. They're growing up too fast."

"Cheollie. It's not as if they're already marrying--"

Seungcheol was quick to cut off what you were supposed to say. "God no sweetheart! They're just six-year olds!"

"Exactly my point," You calmly said and closed the gap between you by hugging him and burying your face on the crook of Seungcheol's neck. "So loosen up, okay?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that... I know that after several years they'll grow up and will meet a lot of people. And then eventually, both of our kids will each meet the person they will love...but right now, I really just want them to enjoy their childhood first...is that too much to ask?" Seungcheol immediately stopped talking when he heard you sniffing. "Are you crying?"

You lifted your head and hurriedly wiped your tears without looking at him. "This is your fault."

"What did I do?" Seungcheol asked teasingly and helped dry your cheeks. "Okay, I'll stop being irrational now so you should stop crying too."

You immediately shook your head, "You're not being irrational. You're just being a good, scratch that, the best father you have always been. You're loving and responsible."

"And?"

"Fine. Handsome too. Very," you both chuckled. "Jungwon and Chaewon are sure lucky to have you as a father."

“And you as their mother," Seungcheol kissed your forehead.

"Seriously though," You suddenly said and peeked at the paper your husband was holding. "The kid is undeniably sweet writing a letter like that."

"Sweetheart..." He groaned and his plump red lips automatically turning into a pout like that of a kid sulking.

"Sorry," you giggled. "I won't bring it up again."

You both just stayed on the couch for a long time hugging each other. And even with just that, everything felt perfect.

"Cheollie?" You called in a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"I just realized something after reading that kid's letter."

"Uhuh?" Seungcheol responded expectantly.

"That I don't say those words a lot to you," Your voice wavered. "Even if you very much deserved to hear it everyday."

Seungcheol can't help but smile because he is completely aware that you're not the most expressive when it comes to your feelings (which is a complete opposite of him) but he also knew that you have so much love to give and you just have a different way to express it.

"Even if you don't say it everyday sweetheart, I can always feel your love for me and for the twins. And that, " Seungcheol hugged you tighter, "...is more than enough.

"But still, I feel like you want to hear it."

"I do but--"

"I love you, Cheollie." You said rather abruptly and buried your face on Seungcheol's chest. He could only laugh at your cuteness.

"Are you seriously acting shy now?"

Shame was definitely already creeping on your system so you slapped his chest and whined in a low voice, "Stop teasing me!"

With a contented smile, he whispered too.

"I love you more sweetheart."

—♡—

#svt #seventeen #svt scenarios #svt au #svt imagines #seventeen drabbles #seungcheol drabble #seungcheol fluff #svt fluff #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n

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mionemymind · 2 months

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Lost in the Universe (Part 1)

Summary: Y/n is transported to a different universe and by chance, meets the Wanda that inhabits it.

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing, Slight Angst?

A/n: I know I haven't written in a while. But recently I've been on a surge to start writing again. I hope you all enjoy and please tell me honestly how you feel about it. Hopefully, I'm not too rusty.

Word Count: 1.6k

Masterlist

Part 2

Y/n dropped into a new universe, barely landing on her feet. She scrambled to find balance as the portal above her closed. “What the fuck?” Y/n wiped off her hands as she looked around the unfamiliar area.

“Are you lost dekta?” Y/n spun around at the sound of her voice. A smile plastered on Y/n’s face when she saw Wanda. She took a couple of steps when she felt something was different with the girl in front of her. “Wanda?”

The brunette chuckled at the obvious confusion. “It’s me dekta.” Y/n still grew apprehensive. She looked around the location she was in. They were on a simple farm surrounded by acres of grape trees. There was a barn and home in the distance and sheep and cows grazed the plain. “I don’t think you’re my Wanda though,” Y/n said as kindly as possible. It was scary to be in a new world without a clue as to how they operate. Even though Y/n knew that the woman in front of her wasn’t exactly her Wanda, it still gave her some type of peace knowing there was a version of her here.

“And you’re not my Y/n.” Y/n’s nerves eased with the comment as Wanda broke the distance between them. “So let’s get you back to my home and figure out how this happened.”

“Make yourself at home.” Wanda took off her dirty boots at the front and walked to the kitchen. She took the kettle out from the drawer and filled it with water. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate. Is that your favorite in your world?”

“It is!” Y/n yelled from the front of the house. She took off her shoes and jacket, hoping to not get the house dirty. The entrance of the house led them into a decent-sized living room filled with various decorations and plants.

Y/n didn’t mean to snoop but she couldn’t help but look at all the photos framed on the wall and tables. The first photo that caught her eye was a picture of young Wanda and Pietro back in what Y/n could guess was their hometown. She picked it up and analyzed it in detail.

“I miss him,” Y/n whispered to herself. Wanda noticed this as she walked in with two cups of hot chocolate. “We were only five in that photo. I think we went to the zoo that day. Probably one of our better pictures when we were younger. Everything else is either him or me or the both of us crying.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Wanda nodded for approval, “is your Pietro still alive?” Wanda could sense this was a sensitive subject and gave Y/n one of the cups while directing her to the couch.

“Yes, my Pietro is still alive. Currently, he’s away on work.” Y/n gave a small smile, the feeling of missing Pietro grew inside. “I’m happy to hear that.” Y/n took a small sip of her hot chocolate, making sure not to spill the hot drink on herself.

“So your Y/n likes hot chocolate?” Wanda smiled in agreement. “Yes, my Y/n does like hot chocolate. She’s the only reason I have some. I’m just glad that part of her is with you as well. I hope it finds you comfort though because it must be scary to be in a completely different universe.”

“Well,” Y/n thought maybe lying would help ease her anxiety, but the presence of Wanda, even though it wasn’t necessarily her Wanda, made her want to tell the truth, “it is scary. I’m just hoping they find me. But you have been pretty calm for this whole ‘I managed to drop on your farm out of all the locations in this universe’ thing.”

“Your humor appears to be the same no matter the universe,” Wanda playfully said. “But the reason I’m not freaking out is because in this universe, I’m aware of my other counterparts. Luckily enough, you dropped into a universe where I have my powers.” Wanda proceeded to show off her magic, covering Y/n in red swirls momentarily.

“Are you able to drop me back home?” Wanda politely smiled, setting her cup down on the table nearby. “I’m sorry dekta. I unfortunately don’t have that type of power as of yet.”

Y/n sighed in defeat, her anxiety coming back with worried thoughts. Wanda reached out and grabbed Y/n’s hand in a comforting manner. Even in different universes, Wanda Maximoff cared for Y/n Y/l/n. This was a simple fact that would not change. “However, your Wanda is currently on the hunt for you.”

“She is?” Y/n placed her cup down, her hand still interlaced with Wanda’s. “The rules of the universe don’t allow any conversation to happen between each other but we can still feel each other. So when you dropped into my world, I could feel the slight imbalance. But, you just happen to be dating one of the most powerful people in the universe.” Y/n blushed at the compliment, already knowing that she was lucky to even date Wanda in the first place.

“And the perk of dating powerful people is that we can feel other things in different universes. Right now, I can feel her dropping into other universes, trying her best to find you.”

“What if she can’t find me?” Y/n pouted. Wanda smiled even more. It was refreshing to see that their love expanded beyond her world. Wanda cupped Y/n’s cheek with her free hand, “This is something I will share only with you.” Listening intently, “You and your Wanda have a special connection. Think of it as a tether. Right now, she’s tugging on that tether hoping that if she continues to pull on it, it will lead back to you. No amount of magic, power, or science can cause this tether to break. It might be a little tangled with how many universes you might’ve accidentally gone through, but she will reach you in time.”

“So believe me when I say this dekta, Wanda will always find you.” Wanda kissed Y/n’s forehead and proceeded to get up. “In the meantime, my Y/n is away on a mission. You’re free to stay here with me until all of this gets sorted out.”

Wanda walked back to the front of the house, putting her shoes back on. “Is there anything I can do to help out while I wait?”

“Wanna help me with the goats?”

After a long day of work, Wanda and Y/n lay in the hammock near the campfire, admiring the stars that the night offered. “When I looked at your photos, I noticed none of them were of just you and I, how come?”

Wanda blushed at the directness and was thankful that it was nighttime. “You see, my Y/n and I aren’t dating yet.” Y/n faced Wanda with a ridiculous look. “Are you serious? How come I haven’t confessed? If there’s a world where there’s a you and an I, then we must be together.”

“I’m not sure. We bought this farm together to get away from the city and have some peace time before they spring our next mission on us. Even then, she doesn’t seem to have the courage to confess.” Wanda sighed, her patience was running thin but she knew it was worth the wait.

“Do you need me to get myself together?” Wanda laughed at the offer, clearly imagining two Y/n’s talking to each other. “I’ll probably be the one to have to confess first if she doesn’t do it soon.”

“Just to be sure, does the Y/n here like you like that?”

“Oh, I’m more than positive that my Y/n likes me back,” Wanda cockily states.

“What makes you so certain? Back then, it took me forever to confirm that my Wanda even liked me.”

“Cause within our tethers, I can feel her. I’ve only ever felt her. The universe wouldn’t be so cruel to tie me to her if she didn’t feel the same way.” There was more to the truth than Wanda could let on, because in every universe, Y/n and Wanda always fall in love with each other, no matter the circumstances, no matter the era, and no matter the time.

“I didn’t know the universe could be kind like that.”

They continued to star watch when a red portal in the sky opened up and out came two figures. One landed roughly as the other descended slowly onto the ground. Y/n and Wanda got up from their hammock and walked towards them.

“Wanda?” Y/n yelled out in the distance, hoping it was them and not an alien invasion. “Y/n?!” Wanda came rushing into Y/n’s arm, feeling her worries slip away as she finally was with her again. “I thought I lost you,” Wanda stated with worry. Today had been a long day for her and America Chavez. Hopping from universe to universe was hard, especially with a young teen that has no clue how to control her powers.

“You could never lose me,” Y/n stated confidently. Wanda pulled back from the hug and sealed a kiss, one that made both of their knees weak and minds numb with love. Pulling away slowly, pressing their foreheads against each other, Wanda said, “Let's go home dekta.”

Y/n nodded in agreement and intertwined their hands. They walked back to the portal but not before Y/n waved goodbye to this universe’s Wanda. “I hope she confesses soon!”

Wanda smiled back in return and waved. Telepathically, Wanda said, “Thank you for taking care of my Y/n.”

“Anytime, Wanda.”

Part 2

Taglist: @halobaby @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog @sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @shadowybailiffdreamer-donkey @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @second-try-stevie @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me @ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha @itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @isitallreallyworthit @coxmicbabygirl @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff @imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy @olsensnpm @psychadelichues @whitelotus00

A/n: I just used the same tag list from Fake Memories. If you didn't want to be tagged, I'm sorry.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #fluff #lost in the universe #marvel #wanda maximoff fluff

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megamett44-lover · 10 months

Note

can you do the reader seeing matt with a little kid (around 5 or 6) and getting some crazy baby fever? thank youu <3

UGH I LOVE THIS

Matt Sturniolo x Reader

Summary: In which Y/n brings Matt to her family reunion

Warnings/Notes: She/her pronouns

Requested? Yes!

Dress Up

Bringing Matt home with me for my annual family reunion was insisted upon by my parents. My whole family absolutely adored him, always asking me to bring him around more. Hence why now, here we were, about a ten minute drive away from my grandparents home, where everyone would be meeting.

Having never met my extended family before, it was understandable for Matt to be nervous. He held my hand as he drove, lightly brushing his thumb over my knuckles every few seconds.

“You okay?” I ask, squeezing his hand lightly.

He looks over at me, trying to hide his nervous expression. “All good.” He says.

I nod, turning my attention back to the road. “You don’t have to stress, everyone is gonna love you.”

He chuckles. “If I can win your dad over, I’m sure I can do anything.”

I roll my eyes. “Please.” I say. “You never had to win him over. He was practically calling you ‘son’ before he even met you.”

“Right.” Matt laughs.

Siri breaks our conversation, telling us to turn left and our destination would be on the right. As we pulled into my grandparents drive way, a wave of nostalgia hit me. The long gravel path leading to an old white plantation house surrounded by the most beautiful flowers. I had helped my grandmother plant different flowers in her garden for many Summers when I was younger. The neatly trimmed hedges wrapping around the edge of the porch that my grandfather always insisted on keeping up himself because “nobody else could do the job right.”

I noticed many other cars parked out front, indicating a lot of my family members were already here. As we parked, I kissed the back of Matt’s hand. “Ready!” I asked.

“For sure.” Matt smiled.

As we walked onto the porch, the sound of laughter could be heard from inside. We didn’t even have a chance to knock before my grandmother opened the door.

“My Y/n!” She said, embracing me. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Hi, Gran.” I say, returning her hug.

As we pulled away, she noticed Matt beside me.

“Now this must be the young man I’ve heard so much about.” She smiles at Matt.

“All good things, I hope.” Matt chuckles nervously.

I laugh. “Gran, this is my boyfriend, Matt.”

“Pleasure to meet you dear.” My grandmother says, embracing Matt as well. Pulling away, she smiles at us both. “Well come on, everyone has been asking for you.”

Walking instep with my grandmother and Matt slightly ahead, she leans in and whispers softly. “He’s handsome!”

“Oh, Gran!” I laugh.

“I’m serious!” She says. “If I was only 60 years younger, I’d give you a run for your money.”

As we walked into the crowded parlor, we were greeted by a chorus of “Hey” and “Welcome home”. A lot of family come up to me, since the last time I had seen most of them I was young. Most of them were eager to meet Matt, having heard I was dating a “famous Los Angeles boy”.

Excusing myself for a moment, I go grab a couple waters for Matt and I from the kitchen.

“Oh hey, Y/N.” My aunt says, seeing me enter. Her and a collection of other family members were working on tonight’s dinner, the smell immediately making me hungry.

“Smells great in here.” I compliment, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge.

“Thanks!” She beams at me. “Oh, your cousins are around here looking for you. They wouldn’t stop talking about how excited they were to see you.”

I laugh. “I’ll keep a look out for them.”

My aunt and uncle had two twin girls, Charlotte and Katherine. They had just turned six and they were adorable. I had spent a lot of my youth babysitting them, resulting in me having an older sister relationship with the girls.

Walking back to the parlor, I notice most of the family had gone to the back yard. Scanning the yard, I cannot seem to see Matt anywhere. I grab my phone to text him, but then I hear giggling coming from down the hall followed by a deeper laugh that I recognize to be Matt’s.

Walking down the hall, I notice the light in the playroom is on. I hear a few voices coming from inside.

“We’re going to make you look so pretty.” I hear a young voice that I recognize to be Katherine’s says.

“Oh, really?” Matt asks.

“Yes!” Charlotte assures. “Y/n is going to love it!”

I peek in the doorway to the playroom to see Matt sat on the floor, with my cousins braiding his hair. I notice he has a few hair bows in, along with a feather boa around his neck.

I giggle softly, watching my cousins give him a makeover.

“Can we paint your nails?” Charlotte eagerly asks.

Matt looks down at his nails, the old paint peeling off of them.

“I think I’m in need of a manicure, so sure!” Matt agrees.

“Kat, grab the princess stickers and pink polish!” Charlotte demands.

Hearing this, I accidentally laugh too loud, giving my position away. All three of their heads whip in my direction.

“Y/N!” Charlotte and Katherine say in unison, running up and hugging my legs.

“Hi, girls.” I say, bending down to hug them. “I see you’ve stolen my boyfriend.”

“Don’t you think he looks pretty?” Katherine asks, motioning towards Matt.

“I think he looks gorgeous.” I say, making eye contact with Matt, who chuckles softly.

“We were going to paint his nails, do you wanna help?” Charlotte asks.

“Of course!” I say, eagerly.

“Yay!” Both girls say in unison.

Sitting down, we begin painting Matt’s nails a bright shade of pink, complete with princess stickers on every other finger. When we were finished, we slowly walk Matt over to the mirror to check out his new look.

“I look awesome!” Matt says, bending down to the girls level. “Thank you, girls.” He opens his arms for a hug, as both girls practically tackle him.

I smile softly, my heart warming at the sight.

“I think next time, we should bring our princess dress for you to wear.” Katherine says.

Matt laughs. “I think that would be amazing.”

“Yeah, but we have to bring the Cinderella dress.” Charlotte says. Katherine raises a puzzled eyebrow. “To match his eyes, duh!”

“What do you think, Y/n?” Charlotte asks.

“I think he would make a beautiful Cinderella.” I smile, causing Matt and the girls to laugh.

A loud voice interrupts our laughter from the kitchen.

“Girls, dinner!” I hear my Uncle call.

“Our dad wants us!” Katherine tells Matt. “But we’ll finish this makeover another day.”

“I’ll be counting on it.” Matt winks, ruffling her hair.

The girls laugh as they run down the hall to the kitchen. I look at Matt, who’s covered in glitter from the feather boa.

“I’ll be their Cinderalla, as long as I’m your Prince Charming.” Matt says, pulling the boa off.

I laugh. “God, you’re cheesy.” I grab his hands, looking at the pink artwork on his fingernails. “I can’t wait to have this life with you one day.”

He pulls me into a hug, covering me in glitter. “I promise, one day, we’ll have all of this.” He says. “Every day.”

I lean back, grabbing one of the braided strands of hair. “I’m really digging these braids, though.”

“Yeah?” Matt laughs.

“Yeah.” I smile, pressing a small kiss on his lips.

“Now c’mon, I’m starving!” I say, leading him to the kitchen.

Matt stops on his tracks. “What, dressed like this?” He asks.

I smirk. “What, you embarrassed?”

“Never.” He replies, putting his boa back on before we exit the playroom.

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo imagine #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo edit

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1800titz · 5 days

Text

HI BESTIES. Trivia!Harry x Shy!Reader part 1 ((based on THIS post))

The one where Harry hosts trivia at a small town bar every Thursday and Y/N just can’t seem to shut up.

WC: 3.6K

This is part one of a patreon exclusive series — the rest will only be accessible through my patreon. You can already find part 2 up on my patreon (✿◠‿◠)

She takes a long drink. It tastes like kismet and carbonated nothingness.

“Alright, alright, alright.”

Smooth baritone into the bulbous head of a microphone, hovering millimeters from pink, plush borders of a mouth. It seeps through the meshed grill caging it like molasses slinking the gaps. The lively chatter dulls as heads turn, and then swells in eager increments.

“Alright,” he says, a set of green eyes flickering from the monitor he’s settled over a rejigged high top, and bounding sharply to whoever’s just given an overly enthusiastic cry of yes from the horde surrounding the portable four-by-eight platform.

A peal of sparse, scattered laughter. His mouth quirks.

“Very enthusiastic today. Hello to you, as well. I’m well. How are you?”

His cresting eyes bound from the glowy screen, casting light and carving shadow over the sultry features of his visage; an evenly straight slope of a nose, cheekbones feathered by long lashes, a bit of curl that traipses over his forehead.

His chin swivels to his left, somewhere closer to the platform where a woman leans over the high top — her designated team — the corners of his lips curling in response to whatever he’s said. Face alive, he nods. He tips his chin. Makes a creased face like something playful. Says something else, laughs softly, and turns back, shaking his head.

Y/N tucks the straw in and takes another slow sip.

He brings the mic back to the ruddy stain of his lips.

“Hope everyone’s having a lovely Thursday. M’Harry, I’ll be leading the trivia— as I do— so if you’re sitting there going, who is this obnoxious cock, talking into the mic the whole night? Hi, Hello. That’s me— I do trivia.”

Harry is fit.

At first, Y/N had been dubious to desert her romcom reruns and her cross-stitch project mid-way (despite the fact that her thumb now resembles a pin cushion) when her friends had swept her off into their regularly scheduled, mysteriously niche Thursday night schemes. Now, she gets it.

The destination — The Black Horse — is a fuggy little space that smells like spilt Michelob and fusty, weathered oak. There’s a no smoking sign pasted in a spare crevice of the backbar, but someone in the far right corner exhales a plume of vapor like they’ve hit their elfbar in the most clandestine manner imaginable. Shamelessly. It’s a small town — an islet in the heart of an archipelago — and she thinks she can make out her seventh grade swim team rival perched somewhere off in the front row.

The Black Horse is nothing special. It sells cheap draughts by the pitcher and parallels a barbershop in the crux of the town, two blocks off the boardwalk, which is arguably the chiseled, shiny musgravite of Treah’s core — a roaring green sea that eats away at the borders of the isle, shrouding vibrantly hued cays, glimmering under the beam of the sun. The majority of the holm’s economy is dependent on tourism (a simultaneous bane — said tourists enjoy uprooting foliage, building infrastructures, and partaking in chunks of housing buyouts), but Y/N can tell that The Black Horse has been …preserved to say the least. It’s four stone walls sewn into a plaza with three other natively owned businesses and looks like something straight out of a cinematic piece set in a rural village, planted into Treah long before Y/N had her first wiggly tooth.

The Black Horse isn’t what makes attendance worth it. It’s him—

“We’ve got a crowd tonight. If you haven’t played trivia with me here at The Black Horse before, welcome. S’a little different than your typical trivia, though, because it’s…”

The throng hollers back, as if scripted, “Dirty trivia!”

“Dirty Trivia,” Harry parrots, all cheeky dimples, “Right, Dirty Trivia. This one’s rated R, so if you’re not old enough to be here, I dunno how you got here, but this is going to be your cue to head out. Any— any children in here tonight? …No? Wonderful.”

He huffs into the mic, shaking his head and jostling his halo of curls. A jaundiced, warm beam catches on them. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but m’not even joking— a couple of weeks ago someone was sitting in here with, like, a little kid.”

It’s Harry, with the divots burrowing into his cheeks, the croon into the mic, lighting the crowd alive on an introduction.

Y/N crosses her legs. Her friend raises her eyebrows from across the teak table top and says it with her eyes. Told you so; Trivia Man is a cream dream.

“Yeah,” Harry confirms over the scattered, appalled eruption of laughter, nodding down at someone seated at a table closer to the stage, “I was, like, …shit,” he blinks back up and motions out, a slow sweep with his free hand, “Friendly reminder, this is not a form of sex ed.”

Pausing, mouth twitchy over the sown mirth, he brings the microphone back with a newfound seriousness and tacks on, nodding slowly, “…That kid won it for the whole team.”

The seam of his mouth lopsidedly spalls, “No, m’joking,” and he clears his throat. “M’gonna pass out a sheet and some little note pads for your answers,” Harry explains, “You’re gonna use one of those little notes to jot down a clever team name, do the same in that team name spot of the sheet, and then pass the note up to me.”

Pussy Posse. A pre-established moniker Y/N has had no jurisdiction over, merely perched as an addition to a settled cadre. Still, she gnaws into her cheek when she watches a friend beside her scribble in the title with a ballpoint.

“I’ll be coming around between questions to pick those answers up, have a chat, whatever. We’re all here to have fun, yes?”

She swears he sweeps her with his eyes, like a passing tide gliding the sea. Probably just the way the green in his sockets meets everyone else in the throng, but the moment it happens her molars chew in harder.

“On the topic of fun, let’s keep it nice and fair, yeah? Phones put away— no cheating— you’ll have plenty of time to check those when we have our break midway.”

It feels ignoble to eye-fuck him from behind the sheathes of her empty irises as he paces the stage — after all, this is just a wholesomely clad, virtuously upstanding guy leading trivia, but. The gears behind her skull are mottled with cerebrospinal fluid and sticky in a goop of thoughtless ogling that renders her head empty. Even when he makes his way to the bar-height table her team curls around, when his eyes linger on her — “A new face.” — Y/N just mindlessly stares.

Dirty trivia, she learns, is dirty.

It hits her when Harry quips (dare she note, mischievously), “Hoo-hoo-hoo. Starting off strong with the first one.”

He states, talc flickering from the LED display ahead to the bevy of trivia-players, “What country,” and pauses for emphasis, “has—“ pits grub at the smooth of his cheeks beside the upturned corners of a pink-bordered mouth splintering, “the highest average, in the world, for penis size?”

There’s no source of entertainment like that of trivia held, on a Thursday, on a remote islet, in a poky bar that smells like stale beer and dust-coated, chipping leather. Evidently.

“I actually don’t know this one,” Harry chimes, raising a wry shoulder, “So it’s trivia for me, as well.”

“England,” Marina stamps a blow that the teak hasn’t warranted, whisper-shouting over the staggering peals of guffaw and chatter, “He’s hung, I bet you.”

“He’s not going to fuck you for writing in England,” Beth’s chortles clash with Y/N’s scorned, “Marina.”

“That’s not even an answer,” Bee waves towards the flatscreen framed over the man’s head

Senegal, Haiti, Ecuador, and Gambia.

“Where the fuck is Gambia—”

They settle on Gambia.

Y/N watches Beth scribble it in and dot the i with an open sphere whose edges don’t meet. When Harry winds the rows of tables, plucking answer cards and making small-talk, Y/N stares into her mug ruddy-faced, brain-rotted with the insinuation of him being …hung.

“Lots of Haiti, lots of Senegal,” Harry states, mouth twitchy once he’s smoothed the cards out with his colossal, ringed paws, and looked them over.

She stares at the bob of his throat as he swallows, directing the mic back to his lips.

“Big reveal?” He pauses, as if for cataclysmic emphasis, riling the crowd enough for Y/N to note restive shoulders and juddering feet.

“Patience,” Harry says softly into the microphone, raising his eyebrows.

Y/N squishes the plush of her thighs together.

Then, with paltry warning, he reveals, “Ecuador! At,” squinting at the blue-toned LED, “—a whopping 6-point-nine-three. Solid for the average. Do we have any Ecuadorian men in the audience tonight? Anybody who’s added to that average? Congratulations. You beat us. You beat everyone.”

There’s an amalgamation of responses, some ripostes flung amongst tables, some bouts of clapping, hollering over the rows, sloshing mugs raised in triumph.

Harry’s deltoids climb in a shrug, and his head wags from side to side, “Some valiant contenders, those Ecuadorians.”

“I told you it wasn’t Gambia—“

Y/N ogles the way Harry tilts over the platform towards a table, brows kinked as if trying to pick up something audible he’d missed. In her peripherals, Marina prods into Beth’s direction with a palmful of something claret in a pellucid martini glass.

“What was that?” Harry coaxes into the microphone.

The corners of his mouth have caved up, and by the time the majority of the trivia-players sink into a piqued lull, he’s slanted over toward the table. A brunette with long, shiny hair arches up out of her seat into her directions, braced to the teak high-top with planted, elbow-locked arms.

“Where do you fall?” is undeniable the second time.

Harry blinks. His mouth paints over with a smile.

“Where do I fall?”

He blatantly bridles a sputter when he winds toward the laptop he’s set up, culls his glass of a golden, pale straw beer that’s lost its layer of foam, and takes a long drink.

Harry clears his throat. “Wouldn’t you like to know. Very forward. Take me out to dinner first.”

Y/N discovers that, despite the ubiquitously crude sexualizing, Harry is sort of like a bird. Pavo cristatus, preening with its neatly arranged plume — he likes it. The flattery. His tongue peeks out and swipes over his lips as he stares down at the screen. Little dimples pit when it tucks back in — ones he blatantly can’t contain.

He chuckles and states into the microphone, “…Below. Don’t worry about it.”

Somehow, Y/N doubts it.

Y/N plaits herself into the Thursday Fawn Sessions as a regular attendee, curling up at the same high top to ogle the same man pace a platform with a microphone to make jesting comments and ask things like, “Axillism is the act of using what strange body part during sex?”

She finds herself learning a thing or two from each session, and she finds that the emeralds seated in his sockets linger on this absolute clam shell taking up a spot in the bar and chugging fizzy water (that ogles his frame in lull every time he approaches her table), too. Pussy Posse is no good at the trivia, more often than not wheedling in second-to-last, but they find themselves much too entertained to mind.

Franks is a rather self-explanatory hot dog cart. It stands midway on the boardwalk and operates through sunny mizzles and borderline hurricane cloudbursts, when the green salt chuck is choppy. High tiding. Those are the days Y/N stands out in her jaundiced poncho, salty rain spittle beating at her cheeks, and watches the waves eat at the ipe in a nasty, wet hunger, no customers in sight.

Midsummer afternoons, though, are good. Busy. When Treah morphs industrious and bustling — tourists like Franks on the boardwalk.

It’s a slow coda for June. The sea is planate, swaying over steel supports mantled by barnacles. Gulls chortle, gliding low in the ether — it oozes yellow and something balmy like the goo of an egg yolk. She’s sold two hot dogs, tallied three joggers (one eager speedwalker), and noted one couple pushing a baby in a stroller, who offered tight-lipped smiles and veganism. She doesn’t entirely mind a slow day, because setting shop on the boardwalk means spending the day on the boardwalk. Breathing the sea until her lungs are full of salt and her eardrums reverberate the crash of the water behind her skull. She tastes it at the back of her throat — something like home as home could get.

There’s another jogger loping — a moving blip of skin color in chiaroscuro against wood paneling. In the distance. Drawing closer. She imagines him passing the cart, the soles of his trainers padding over the row of planks until he’s just another form of lines and shading, faced away. She checks her phone.

The jogger is still a good bit away. Y/N swipes open Wordle. She’s on her third attempt of elucidating something that goes blank, I, blank, E, blank (with a P that doesn’t quite fit where she’s slotted it)—

“Hi.”

Her eyes crest.

Treah is a really small town. Not in a prudishly, bible-bashing form of a pastoral village, sheathed in a bosky, wooded moat of thicket and then plains of nothingness for hundreds of miles. But it is an island enveloped by the sea from all sides, sequestered without a boat or a little plane, whose wheels bumpily kiss the asphalt of anearly comically small airport. Even the tourists lodging up in their summer homes, all the same months like annual clockwork, make reappearances. The faces are, nearly always, the same, and she sees the same faces often. It was only a (limited) matter of time before they coalesced beyond the borders skirting The Black Horse. In hindsight, Y/N didn’t envisage that she’d be wearing a baseball cap emblematized with a weenie when it happened. Or that his tits would be out and about.

“Have you got water?”

He’s panting. Casually slippery; coated in sweat that glimmers in the sun and carves the well-toned sinews of his torso, with sunglasses tucked up over his curls like a makeshift headband. He ogles expectantly with a set of jade that puts the hues of the lapping, green sea behind him to shame. A parted mouth, sculpted and cushiony, sucks in breaths from the liminal space divvying their atoms while her own become clogged, somewhere midway an esophageal prison, in limbo toward her lungs. A shaded lepidoptera scored over his tummy flutters, batting its wings in the swell and sink of his diaphragm expanding.

His shorts are teeny. Tiny, little things. Cobalt. Mirroring laurels carving alongside his V-line peek from the waistband, and a happy trail climbs to kiss his navel.

Y/N blinks. “Yes. Yeah. We do. Yes. …Is bottled okay?”

“Bottled is perfect.”

He sticks a hand into his pocket, the emeralds in his sockets flickering to her face, and away, and back. Slow-like. She traces the wisps in the sky with her eyes, heat searing up her neck and pooling in the flesh of her face. It’s a sudden, unforeseen stuffiness sweltering for such a beautiful day. Y/N recognizes her horrid blunder in his next words.

“Do I know you from somewhere?”

She should have ducked her chin, tucked the visor lower, and hoped for the best. Instead, now, she blinks, dazed and wide-eyed like a Red brocket saturated by blinding headlights.

“Oh. I’m not sure. Um. Small …town— maybe?”

“You come to, uh—“ a nudge with his chin in her direction as Y/N arduously regulates the stuttery pace of her respiration. The jitter in her digits, like a lovesick school girl. She caches them behind the cart and lets them judder. “—trivia nights. At The Black Horse, yeah? I couldn’t forget a face like yours.”

Harry grins, the way he does. Lopsided, so the left corner turns up a little higher — dimpled with a long flash of teeth. Except now, he’s slippery and half-naked.

Folie. Miscalculated gaffe in a weenie cap. She smiles all tight.

“Oh—“ again, “…Yeah.”

“Right,” Harry nods. Smiley. Lingering, looking her over. He buries an enormous hand back into his pocket then, brows creasing like he’s remembered something, and pulls out a little rectangle in cardboard paper. “Hey, actually. I’ve got this coupon here. S’what I do all the other days of the week, ah—“

He extends it out.

Harve-y a free drink, on us!

“M’a bartender over at Harvey’s. S’close to The Black Horse, if you’re in that area. Monday and Saturday mornings. Wednesday and Friday nights. If you come by, I’ll fix you up with a drink.”

It feels impolite to leave him hanging, so she swipes out at the offering, cradling it with slow fingertips.

“We can do some one on one trivia. Train you up,” Harry tacks on.

Y/N swallows. Harry is an attractive man. His allure is apodictic — a sort of conventional, objective quality that leaves her throat parched when it becomes paired with his unfaltering eye contact. She’s not a virgin, and she’s an adept swimmer, but his presence feels like viridian saltwater that’s waiting to swallow her whole. The nerves that bubble, a fizz of chagrin, remind her why exactly she enjoys fawning from a distance. Because he makes her feel nervous, and when she’s nervous, the dialogue spumes like miasmic word vomit.

He’s got a thin sheathe of sweat that glimmers in the seat of his cupid’s bow, but it’s not in a gross way. In fact, it reminds her that the rest of him, his denuded skin, is slick, because he’s been jogging along the boardwalk. It reminds her how hard it is not to openly ogle the tattoos he’s got on show. She should have called out from her weenie gig, and she should have refilled her alprazolam prescription weeks ago.

“Oh,” she tells him, slowly, face creasing, “I don’t— I don’t drink.”

Harry blinks. It’s a weird confession considering she’s a Thursday night regular at a bar that’s really only good for anything that has enough alcohol to shroud the stale taste. Still, nothing beyond open expectancy erupts along his features, and that’s worse. She feels them crawling up her throat, clambering up the back of her tongue like the words have knobby joints. They meet the backs of her teeth, waiting to spew.

“—Not because I’m a recovering alcoholic or anything, I just don’t like the way it makes me feel. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Or drinking. I actually think it’s so admirable. You know? Like, to be brave… and… and a lot of times those people will attend support groups—“

Harry blinks again.

“—And they talk about it. I can’t imagine sharing something like that— not that there’s anything wrong with it! But. Um. I always get virgin cocktails at The Black Horse. Or club soda. Or juice.”

Her lips seal over. She entraps the rest behind her traitorous teeth — a drawbridge that never should’ve sunk open. Despite her overly candid, overstated explanation, Y/N doesn’t stick the coupon back out in his direction. She harbors it in her hand, blinking slowly and gnawing into her cheek.

“…S’okay. We do orange juice, too,” Harry tells her, entirely casual despite her discomfited speech, raising his brows.

There’s the curbed efforts of a bemusedly mirthy grin at the corners of his mouth, and his nonchalant bearing only makes her face hotter. She feels like she’s broiling under the shade of the awning.

“And club soda.”

“…Cool,” Y/N settles on, tightly.

“Sick.”

“…It’s, uh… two dollars,” she tells him, after a moment.

Y/N is going to go home and ram her head through a window.

“Oh,” Harry casts his gaze to the water (it has the average, entirely typical proportions of a water bottle, but in his hand, it’s nearly miniature), as if he’s forgotten the chilly source of condensation coating his palm. That he’s in arrears. He sticks his free hand into the same pocket that’d procured the coupon, “Right. I think I’ve got two dollars in here, somewhere.”

Instead, when he stretches a bill out towards her, it’s worth ten. Circumventing eye contact, Y/N reaches for the cash box tucked below and pries the lid up to delegate his change.

“Oh,” Harry echoes, raising his enormous hand in effort of halting her, “S’alright. S’yours.”

“Oh. I… can’t take tips. It’s, like. Against the code of conduct.”

“Code of conduct at a …hot dog stand?”

As if she needed to be reminded that she’s donning a silly cap with an animated frank, standing on a boardwalk that’s practically empty of prospective patrons. The ignominy scores in her tummy and surfaces in the set line of her mouth.

“…Yes.”

Harry pauses, brows kinked like he’s ruminating, and then he inhales and decides, “Well. It’s not a tip, yeah? It’s just… you break it up, put two in the box, and then put the rest in your pocket.”

“Oh. No. You— you’ve already given me the coupon—“ she argues, frenziedly waving out a mismatched wad of cash.

He raises his hands and ambles in one suavely lengthy step back. “I’m going now.”

“No!”

He’s three away that would fit five or six of her own gait when he declares, “Yes! I hope to see you for that orange juice. On the house. Have a good one.”

This is a patreon exclusive series. If you'd like to read more, part 2 is already up on my patreon! <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #dom harry styles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles fluff #patreon exclusive #harry styles fic #trivia!harry #trivia au #shy!reader #harry styles x shy!reader

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readychilledwine · 4 months

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Hello lovely! Can I please request more cassian x reader as parents? 🥹

Keep Going

Summary - When your daughter's little wings begin to flutter, Cassian realizes it is time for her to learn to fly

Warnings - children (I've been told I need to make that a warning), Azriel being a menace.

A/N - Some short Cassian fluff to break up the smut. I think most of us have probably watched the tiktoks of Cassian teaching his daughter to fly. This is based on that ❤️

"Come on, baby! Keep going!"

Cassian's praise and shouts could be heard as you approached the training rings of the House of Wind. They had drawn you from reading, along with a little thud that had come earlier as well.

"Don't stop! Come on, baby! You're so close!"

"I can't do it, daddy." You could hear your daughter's strain and instantly began to walk faster, tugging the bond only to be ignored as your mate kept his sole focus on her.

"Yes, you can. Come on, princess. Just keep going. I know it hurts, I know you're getting sore. But keep going, baby."

Had you not been helplessly, truly, and madly in love with Cassian, the sight when you got to the top of the House would have sealed his place in your heart forever. Cassian held your daughter's hands in his. He was planted on the ground as her wings beat erratically, lifting her off slightly before she took a little break panting.

"You are so close, baby," Cassian kneeled down to her, holding her round face in his hands. "Do you want me to fly and hold you by your hands while I'm flying? Maybe getting some wind under your wings will help."

You stepped forward, going to your daughter to rub her back. "You're afraid."

She nodded, fat tears rolling down her face. "What if I get up there and my wings stop and I fall and daddy isn't there to save me?"

You shook your head, wiping the tears from her face. "You're so worried about falling that you have not even thought about the possibility of what happens when you fly." She snuggled into you, listening as you comforted her. "There isn't a single world where daddy isn't here to catch you when you fall."

Cassian joined you two on the ground, his large palm in between her wings. "Flying is one of the hardest things you will ever have to learn to do, princess." He tightened her little white ribbon, her little piece of Auntie Nesta, and grabbed her as she switched to being in his arms.

He continued. "We have to get those wings going, though. Think of how fun it will be to go somewhere with daddy, Uncle Rhys, and Uncle Az without someone carrying you. Or flying with Nyx." She hummed and buried herself into his neck, breathing deeply to surround herself with that scent of fire and freshly fallen snow that had been her comfort for years now.

You looked at Cassian, silent communication passing between the two of you. "You know baby, the sooner you fly, the sooner you get to go to Velaris behind mommy's back and get ice cream with daddy."

They both stiffened, Cassian's eyes comically wide as you cocked your head at him. Your daughter started a bell like giggle. She looked up at your mate, those brown eyes sparkling. "See? Mommy knows everything."

You nodded before mouthing, "everything," to Cassian.

"Maybe you should hold her up supporting her stomach and run with her," a smooth, deep voice came from behind you three. "That's how Nyx learned." Azriel patted your daughter on the head as he walked by, grabbing a few things for a mission and sighed. "Otherwise, I can teach you the way I taught Auntie Fey." The smirk on his face said it all. You thought back to Feyre, bruised and crying from soreness.

"Absolutely not."

"Fuck off, Azriel."

"I wanna learn like Feyfey!"

The three answers all came at the same time, making the shadowsinger smile. "When I get home then."

Cassian glared as he walked off. "You will not be getting taught by Azriel. This is my job."

He picked her up in one smooth motion, following the first advice from the shadowsinger. "Flap those little wings, princess."

A look of determination set across her face, one so similar to Cassian's, as she focused and made her wings move. "Let's do this, daddy."

General taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

@mariahoedt @rinalouu

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #cassian x reader #cassian x yn #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian #cassian acotar #girldad!cassian x reader #girldad!cassian

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infernalwitxhcraft · 1 year

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All About: House Spirits

Well, it's about time I brought them up once again, in their own post. This guide may be on the lengthy side, but it's here to explain what they are and how to begin working with them.

What the hell is a house spirit?

House spirits come from all different cultures and folklore. Known as, you guessed it, guardians of the home. They protect the house itself, the land around it (they get along with the land spirit(s) most of the time), and they also protect the family if treated right. A home certainly doesn't feel like one without these presiding spirits helping. In fact it gives the home a life of it's own.

What do they look like? Are there types?

Across many cultures, there are these spirits and the folklore varies for each. In my tribe, we consider them to usually be little dwarves or goblins that must be appeased, otherwise they will cause bad luck or even resort to curses. Regular offerings are required. Then there are the land spirits, which is a whole other topic. If given regular offerings and respect, we believe that they will not only generate good luck and events for us, but protect us and help with our daily lives. For the witches of the tribe, they will often assist in rituals and spells. That all being said, this has carried over into my personal beliefs. Many cultures describe house spirits assisting with the same things and if they are displeased, bad occurrences following. As far as looks go, it depends on the folklore surrounding your area and your cultural background(s). You may believe in one or two types or an entire spectrum of house spirits from the realm of the fair folk. You could have one house spirit or twelve. It's entirely up to your home. In some cultures, there are door spirits (yes, that guard the doors) and ones that work in the kitchen, among others for different functions of the home.

Okay so, I live in an apartment building. Can I still work with them?

Yes. When I used to live in apartments, I found it was an either/or situation regarding how many were there. Some buildings have only a few that roam around, sometimes only one that protects the entire building, or there may be multiple hanging out in one apartment. Most complexes have multiple however. And then for the lucky buildings that have one for each apartment...those are nice. I've included a short offering ritual at the end of this post, which you can use to ask questions about whatever you wish to know, including how many there are in the building.

What kind of offerings do they like?

Milk, honey, bread, and herbs are a safe bet. They especially like bread baked by you, as they see it as a labor of love and that your energy is in there. Taking time to tend to the garden and taking care of your property & home in general are things they like to see. Don't leave the house a huge mess, as many prefer a tidy atmosphere. Not an offering per say, but important to mention nonetheless.

What should I put on their altar?

I keep my altar for them in the kitchen, as it is in a place that is undisturbed and can't be torn up by my land shark (aka, my dog). I also feel that most of the house spirits I have worked with in my life enjoy hanging out in this area of the home. They seem to like assisting in kitchen magic and cooking in general and the warmth of the stove. You may also want to include a small area near the front door if you believe that there are separate spirits for there. I'd recommend a shelf, as it won't take up as much space in the entryway.

Okay, back on track. Plants (if the space gets enough light), a cauldron, candles, offering bowls, a chalice, glass, or mug of some sort. A special spoon to stir the drinks or potions with. Decorative pieces from nature. Things you craft by hand.

How can I begin working with them?

Anytime, in reality. However, you do have to develop an actual relationship with them. This can take time and the more you speak to them, give offerings, and invite them in as you cook or clean, the more they will be willing to help with your spellwork, wards, and healing. Try the introduction ritual I've included. See what happens. Document it. Try again another time the following week. And just...keep going. Make sure that they know you haven't forgotten about them by leaving a small nightly glass of milk out before you head to bed. It doesn't have to be filled to the rim (hey, cost of living is ridiculous right now). It can be a splash with a squirt of honey added. Or a sprinkle of herbs on their bowl. Or maybe a small helping of what you whipped up for dinner. Point is to show them that you acknowledge and respect their presence. That will be the biggest component. Do the ritual once a week until you start seeing signs of contact. Once you do, make your own ritual with them. Incorporate them into your daily life. Ask them to help with blessing your cooking. Ask them to make sure your wards are in tact. Ask the door spirit to purify the energy of anyone that walks in & make bad people resist coming by. Start seeing if they'd like to sit in on a ritual, if you feel comfortable with that idea. Ask for a blessing when you clean the house & to assist you in removing all the bad energy.

Brief introductory ritual

To introduce yourself to your house spirits, I recommend sitting in your kitchen. If you consider your hearth to be the living room, you can choose to do it there. Make sure to bring offerings with that you feel will be applicable. Freshly baked bread (from your own hands) and some milk with honey stirred in would make a wonderful first treat. I usually introduce myself in a new home by bringing these treats to the location of choice, and start by speaking my intention aloud which goes something like:

"Spirits of the home,

Guardians and Protectors of this dwelling,

Please come sit with me and enjoy these offerings.

I wish to have a working relationship where we can honor, respect, and help each other."

I usually spend about ten-twenty minutes meditating after this is spoken aloud. Sometimes you will feel a strong presence. This is the time I take to set up my kitchen altar as well. If there is a place that I am able to create a mini-altar by the front door, I do so there for the door spirits. The land spirits get their own little thing out in the backyard. I've found in the many places I've lived, they almost always work together and some house spirits spend quite some time out there too!

From here on out, you'll develop your relationship with regular offerings and take it from there!

#witchcraft #witch #witchblr #green witch #house spirits #hearth witch #kitchen witch #faery folk #beginner witch #witchy guide

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lowtaperfeyd · 2 months

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Hi 🥰 can i request scenario where reader is paul’s sister and feyd’s wife who is all about honor and one day after feyd’s fight she tells him that he’s not all that because he doesn’t fight fare and is coward 😏

Rats Vs. Mice

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

author's note: Feyd is so fine. That's all.

warnings: death, blood, house harkonnen, knives.

wc: 940

(Y/N) Atreides’ father, the Duke Leto Atreides, had a saying, “Respect for truth is the basis for all morality. Something cannot emerge from nothing.” This has always been something both him and his daughter lived by. Because there is no honor in a man who isn’t truthful. Most of the time she didn’t think of this saying often, since she had been surrounded by truthful men. But when she married Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen she realized just how much the Harkonnens lie. She realized the truth did also die with her father.

“Does he always fight this way?’ She interrogated her uncle-in-law as they were watching Feyd fight in the black and white light of the Harkonnen homeworld’s sun.

“Yes of course he does!” He quickly responded, feeling a little offended because of the criticism of his heir from his own wife, “What other way is he supposed to?!”

“I didn't mean to offend, my Baron,” she replied, realizing it was a bad idea to bad mouth Feyd in front of his uncle, “I’m sorry.”

“Silly girl,” the only thing that came out of the baron’s mouth after that was, “That boy killed his own mother.” (Y/N) continued to watch Feyd fight.

The way his arm moved through the air in a teasing motion. Like a cat drawing out the death of a mouse. It was complete cowardice disguised by an overconfident nature from many fights against drugged opponents. Drugged opponents who may just stand a chance against Feyd-Rautha. Of course, she did not think he was a bad fighter, just that he was a big baby.

The fight, of course, ended with all of Feyd’s opponents on the ground lying still and Feyd’s knife rising to the air to show the blood of his kills. Pathetic from a man who won’t even fight a sober man, (Y/N) thought.

As Feyd went back through the tunnel he came out of, (Y/N) turned toward the baron and asked him,

“Would Feyd ever fight against a man who wasn’t drugged?”

“Why do you ask this?” The baron asked suspiciously.

“I mean, isn't his birthday coming up? A good present for him would be fighting someone of equal machinery in a sense. You also need to test whether or not he would be good for Arrakis. I know you aren’t happy with Rabban.”

The baron just mumbled incoherently.

“Anyway, I must leave,” She said as she got up, “I have to see my husband.”

(Y/N) began walking through the tall halls of the fortress. Passing grotesque portraits and seeing the black and white fireworks coming from outside of the castle. The fireworks in celebration of Feyd’s victory. Even though it was dark inside the castle the fireworks did light it just enough to where you did not need a glow globe to transverse through the corridors. The air got more frigid as she continued to walk deeper and deeper to her husband’s room. Like walking into the belly of the beast. She got to her husband’s bedroom door and saw two guards outside of it.

“You can leave” (Y/N) said to the guards.

The guards just looked at her and nodded. Afraid of what she would or her husband would do if they didn’t listen.

(Y/N) opened the huge door to see her husband sitting hunched over on his bed. His feet firmly planted on the ground. His knife, still bloody, in his hands.

“I watched you fight today.” She said cooly to him.

“I know,” He said equally, “I saw you from the ground”

“Well congratulations-” She tried to get out before being interrupted by Feyd,

“What were you talking about with my uncle?” He bit out in a mix of anger and annoyance.

“I don’t know what youre talking about.” (Y/N) deflected.

“Don’t play coy!” He shouted and moved to stand menacingly in front of his wife, “I saw you two talking and then looking back at me. What was it!”

“You would be right, Feyd,” She responded, standing her ground, “We were talking about you.”

(Y/N) declared, “How much of a coward you are,” After saying this she could see the anger lighting up in the cold, black eyes of Feyd-Rautha, “How his youngest nephew only fought people who weren’t able to beat him. And how pathetic it is.” She spat at him.

“And would you know something, he actually agreed with me.” (Y/N) lied through her teeth, hoping that Feyd would not go and ask his uncle about it later,

“He agreed that it would be more entertaining if you actually fought people who stab you as easily as you stab them. Have a form of equal bloodshed.”

Even though his wife was still berating him, Feyd continued to look at his wife, the woman who was not afraid to question him or go against when it came down to speaking, and thought about how pretty she would be with her head on a spike. Red lipstick smeared on her lips and hair all messed up from the blade going across her throat.

“And do you want to know the worst thing about you Feyd,” (Y/N) continued to push his buttons, “any honor you have earned is false. The only animal one could compare you to is a lazy, house cat; who can only find entertainment in tiny mice, and can’t defeat the rats which actually pose a threat.”

“You lost all your honor the day you killed your mother.”

"What makes you think you know anything about honor? " Feyd retorted, "Your family is dead and mine is thriving."

#house harkonnen #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x reader #dune pt 2 #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen

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lululandd · 1 year

Text

being könig’s significant other would include:

ngl this one made me kinda emotional

♡ hiking.

könig’s true home that he loves going back to is the one by the mountains. yes he has a large apartment in germany for convenience but his heart is always in that old house in austria where he grew up. the one in the mountains where not even google maps reach, where the road to his house is half hidden by a large bush. if he comes home during summer he will wake you up before dawn and hurry you up the mountain to watch the sunrise together. sometimes if you’re too sleepy he will carry you on his back on in his arms so you two can make it. summer sunrises are his favourite and you almost always spend the summers and autumns in his childhood home.

♡ his grandmother.

the file in the nursing home says she’s ninety five but from the dates in the pictures könig has shown you shes way above a hundred. and you can see why people believe her words. she is indeed old but she has way more life than the other people staying there. you asked him one day why does she stay in the nursing home instead of his house and he said thats where she wants to to because all her friends are there. könig asks for time off work every autumn to spend time with her. (youd think hed be way more lenient with catching sunrise during hikes because shes there but lmao the old woman nudges you with her cane so youd wake up faster. he gets the hiking gene from her apparently.)

♡ hunting.

because kortac doesnt let him be a sniper, he picks up hunting to scratch the itch. still very bitter because he knows he’s at least a sharpshooter, and expert with more training. mans has more knives in his basement than you have in the kitchen and can skin any animal with scary efficiency. he would share some game with the neighbours and come home with whatever they have. honey, fruits, or other types of game that they caught.

♡ handholding.

he is extremely clingy, and would just hold your hand no matter the occassion. sometimes pouts when you need both hands to do something. one day you squeezed his hand to show extra love and he squeezed back. so you squeeze his hand harder to show more love. so he squeezed even harder and you would end up in tears at the end from all the laughing. he would love to just do more than handholding out in public but he doesnt want bad rumours to surround you so he keeps the PDA to a minimum. the old couples around town secretly waits for you two to get married.

♡ so many plants.

he has so many plant babies that he babytalks when he gets home. when you wanted to prank him with the “creating a harsh and traumatising environment so my plant can grow big and strong just like my parents did for me” he gasped so loudly because he didnt think you know about plants!! and how this is good for them!!

♡ der tatortreiniger (the crimescene cleaner)

he cringes at the awkwardness, gets secondhand embarrassment from the interactions, and groans at how schotty’s unprofessionalism mirrors his own sometimes but loves the conversation happening throughout the series and the friendships he built along the way. mans comfort show tbh, knows lots of trivias about the show. watched it so many times he recognises the extras if they appear in another show.

♡ knitted sweaters.

just like ghost, he chooses comfort over everything else but prefers knitted sweaters over hoodies. buys local or from small businesses. he knows they use better quality yarn and takes extra care of them in the making. if you can knit? better. if you start learning knitting???? for him????? he’ll cry you a sweater of tears.

♡ bunnies.

gigantic bunnies. those flemish giant rabbits that can be as big as a sheltie. one of his uncles saw his growth spurt and just gave him one when he was young. two peas in a pod immediately. inseparable. he was heartbroken when he had to leave the little thing to join the military. even more heartbroken when he came home one day and his bunny wasn’t there anymore. he picked up a giant bunny again when he sees you cooing at some normal sized rabbits at the fair, and now you are three peas in a pod. the bunny would run towards the front door and then flop on its side the moment könig comes home.

♡ ointments.

mans old. come on now. he might be your little meow meow but dudes aging. bones not crackalackin yet because of all the excercise he gets. but he old. at least one joint has to be fucked up because hes always the first one to come into a contested room. on bad days, usually when its cold or when it’s raining you can see the discomfort on his face and you get the ointment for his broken joint. sometimes you sing a little while doing it to lift his spirits and boy it does. would pick you up and spin you around immediately after you set the ointment down. you’re his light, and he loves to see that light shine.

#konig x reader #könig x reader #konig x you #könig x you #call of duty imagines #call of duty #might be the last one of these i make #thanks for reblogging them!#scuffed writing

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just-your-average-cryptid · 1 year

Text

most of us have heard of the red car game. you’re on a road trip, you’re bored, you start looking for red cars to do something.

and then they’re everywhere. you notice them nearly every few minutes.

there aren’t suddenly more red cars now, of course. you were seeing them already, but you weren’t noticing. you weren’t looking.

I am noticing things.

there is a plant I notice everywhere now, a small bushy plant in suburbs, along streets, by shops on the highways. dwarf umbrella bush is what the internet tells me when I look for it’s name. I did this because I wanted to know why,

every time I ever saw it, every place,

it was always dying. always the leaves turning yellow, the branches small and scraggly. inside out - nitrogen deficiency. their soil drained.

I am noticing how many of these landscaping plants are yellowing, how small and sickly they look in just a few years. I am noticing how often the grass outside the house is replaced when it once again turns brown and dry, how the type never changes and the cycle starts again. I am noticing how the unmowed, unkempt spaces on lakesides and roadsides look more alive than this. how the preserve I grew up next to was miles of “messy” unmanicured nature and the ground was covered in leaves instead of grass and there was life.

I am noticing the birds that come by the lake. there was a flash of blue wings and red chest - eastern bluebird, male, relatively common. I had never seen one before. there is a family of ducks that appear every spring; i cannot say if it’s successive generations or different ducks, but I can always look forward to ducklings. there are little brown birds with white heads whose names I do not know - are they some kind of piper? why don’t I already know?

why is it so hard to learn about my native plants (accurately, that is)? why are so many gardening sites littered with people who think a plants value is based on how pretty or useful it is to them, who think a tree shedding leaves is “messy”?

why is knowing about the world we live in so… odd? why is it a hobby and not vital knowledge? I learned about polar equations. I taught myself about mycorrhizal networks and species of insects.

(did you know there are shiny green bees? a special species of wasp pollinating figs? that white flowers bloom at night for moths? do you know? have you looked?)

I cannot look at a lawn and see life anymore. it is a wasteland, devoid of life, dying slowly itself. everywhere is grass, grass, doused in water that runs over into storm drains, soaked in fertilizer and pesticides and a hundred other poisons and sending one clear message:

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

I do not think I could live in a city. too loud, yes, too busy, yes, too many people, yes, but the plants would bother me. a tree allotted only a convenient square, surrounded by dead stone and metal.

a forest cleared for this, for burning asphalt streets and racing cars and shops whose bathrooms are “for paying customers only”.

this is a place of death. life is not welcome here.

and now I am noticing.

#it speaks #idk man this is stream of consciousness and it’s midnight lol #I’m having thoughts about plants and people and how much I hate lawns #anti lawn #firmly believe that nature knowledge should be taught in school #yeah there’s biology but biology won’t teach you what plants are edible or deadly #or what birds live/migrate in your area and what they depend on #they teach civics bc even if you’re not politically active you should know how the government works #if you live in a world you should know how it works #bc even if it feels like it doesn’t matter. it does. it will. and if you notice it now you can do something about it

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blue-devil-of-the-lord · 22 days

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Hey there~ If you are still taking requests for Kurt Wagner imagines/scenarios, can I suggest one with a mutant who has plant powers? Plant manipulation is my go to power. Nothing specific, I just really want more Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler content 😊

Mother Nature

Kurt Wagner x reader Words: 1,6K A/N: Alright, first of my requests is done! I made some kind of mix between headcanons and oneshot because it just fit well in my opinion. Also, the gender wasn't stated so I tried to keep it neutral. Hope you like it :)

Let's start with some basics, shall we? In my opinion, Kurt would adore a partner with plant manipulation powers.

Yes, flying and teleporting are all well and good, but plant manipulation? He's absolutely fascinated and will watch you every time you use your powers. And don't you dare stop him watching...

You are, even if it's not immediately obvious, an incredibly powerful mutant. Control over plants means control over almost everything, trees, flowers, grass, even the earth if you try hard enough (through roots, of course). Kurt is a gentleman, of course, and it doesn't always sit right with him if you want to do certain things on your own that he could help with, but oh boy... If he doesn't get weak in the knees when you go into full mutant mode.

The first time he met you was in the old garden shed, which was pretty run-down. He hadn't really wanted to end up there himself, but in retrospect he is very grateful that he did. The professor had never really had time to look after the garden house, which is why you took on the task. And let me put it this way: the first time he saw your powers? The man was smitten from day one.

Plant nicknames. You won't escape them. Neither in German nor in English. “My flower”, “My lucky clover”, “My rose” but also references, especially to mythological creatures “Little garden fairy”, “Persephone”, .... The full program.

When he gives you plants - which he loves to do - he makes sure that they are planted so that you can enjoy them for a very long time. Kurt brings you plants from different cultures and countries, keen to give you as much diversity as possible. However, if he is forced to give you a bouquet of flowers, that's no problem either. You may prefer living plants, but hey - what can you manipulate plants for if you can't bring them back to life?

One disadvantage of your power is that you don't feel very comfortable in an environment without plants. It's fine in the institute, as it's mostly made of wood (dead, but still plant-based), but Kurt makes sure that there are always at least four living plants in your classroom as well as in his room.

Also loves listening to you. You teach a kind of mixture of theoretical biology and practical manual work in the gardens and there's almost nothing better for him than listening to you talk passionately about the plants. Or kneeling down in the garden bed, your eyes gleaming in the sunlight...

Should you move in together later? Be prepared for this man to go all out and fulfill your every request. Nothing is too good for you. Big garden? No problem. Plants all over the house? Already done. House in the country, surrounded by nothing but nature? Your wish is his command.

You have also quickly become his favorite training partner. And that's not just because Kurt can't keep his eyes and hands (and tail) off his partner. For one thing, it helps him to avoid moving objects, because he has learned the hard way how painful it can be to get an ivy tendril in the face. On the other hand, the two of you are simply perfectly attuned to each other. Kurt teleports a little too far to the left? Don't worry, the branch likes to stretch out a bit to catch him. The vine was a bit too short and not quite enough to catch you? Kurt is there to pick you up with ease. In other words, you don't want to compete against the two of you.

Kurt loves it when you make him flower necklaces or flower crowns. They last forever thanks to your power and as soon as you put them on his head? Don't expect him to take them off any time soon. He wears them with pride.

Kurt has always liked nature as he has traveled a lot in his life, but since he's been with you? He's become a huge fan of garden or nature dates. Whether it's a picnic outdoors, a walk in the woods or an afternoon in the greenhouse, he'll take it all. And if you do some magic with your power? He's in paradise.

Speaking of the greenhouse? Although it was initially your project, over time, especially after the relationship began, it has become your and Kurt's project. He doesn't know much about gardening, but he's willing to learn as long as that means continuing to listen and watch you.

Kurt materialized in the middle of the greenhouse and immediately the scent of the different types of flowers, of which he did not know the names, wafted towards him, but he knew that they made you happy and that was all that mattered to him. His eyes wandered around the open room, looking for you, and he realized again how much you had already done.

Yes, he had helped too, but it was you who had done the main work. Kurt still remembered the dead beds, the dried up earth and the broken sidewalks.

The glass panes were dirty and partly broken and the rain had caused mold to grow on some things. None of the garden utensils, the few that were at least there, were usable and pretty much everyone would have labeled this greenhouse a lost cause.

Not you.

You set to work yourself and improved everything yourself without using much of your powers. Kurt had caught you at the beginning of your project, so he was able to assess the improvement pretty well. You had cleaned and partially replaced the glass of the greenhouse - the latter admittedly with his help, as it was easier for him to reach the panes above - knocked out the path and replaced it with a loose, albeit well-kept, gravel path. The old borders of the beds were torn out and replaced with a large partition to the gravel path, allowing the plants greater freedom to grow.

One day you had grabbed Logan and Scott, Kurt had come along voluntarily, and had taken them to a gardening store to buy the necessary equipment and seeds. Logan and Scott had both grumbled while carrying them, Logan a little more than Scott, but your results were impressive.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of different plant species were growing neatly in every direction and it no longer resembled a greenhouse, but a rainforest that rivaled even the true jungle in diversity. Kurt smiled slightly and ran the tip of his tail over the soft petals of a red hibiscus flower.

You had made it possible for many plants to grow here, even if the conditions were not ideal, but they thrived under your guidance.

However, just as he was about to bend down to smell a new, previously unknown flower, a frustrated groan sounded, which seemed all too familiar. Kurt could already guess where you would be. He disappeared into a dark cloud and emerged not two meters behind you.

For a few moments he gazed at you lovingly as you knelt in front of the lily patch, but he quickly stepped towards you when he realized you were about to snap with anger (last time it had taken a week and a lot of affection from Kurt to remove the rampant thorny vines from the school grounds).

Kurt couldn't help but find your behavior endearing and pulled you closer to him, even though you tried to fight it. You might be better with plants, but he was the stronger of the two of you, whether you liked it or not. "My love," he murmured in your ear and you gave up your fight, just snuggled up against him, pouting.

„Liebling," he knelt down next to you and tilted his head. "What's the problem?" You glared angrily at the beds in front of you and began to poke around in them with the shovel. "Snails. Snails are the problem. What's the point of being able to manipulate and grow plants if those blasted bastards eat all my lilies?"

Despite your frustration, Kurt had to smile. "You still haven't given up the fight."

"No," you replied, throwing another slug into the bucket next to you with a disgusted look on your face. "That's my greenhouse. Let them find their own."

"You can't possibly remove all the slugs, the greenhouse is too big for that. Besides, it's late. Let's go back to the institute. I'll make us some hot chocolate, we'll snuggle up on the sofa and watch that movie you've been wanting to show me for weeks."

You hesitated but his tail wrapped around your middle and the tip slowly traveled up and down your side and Kurt knew he had won.

You groaned in defeat and grabbed the bucket, which you promptly emptied out of one of the windows and closed it. You cast one last angry look at the beds. "You may have won the battle, but I will be the victor of the war."

Kurt laughed softly, wrapping you in his arms again as his tail wrapped boldly around your waist. "You will." With a sweeping motion, he picked you up bridal style and pressed you tightly against him, making you squeal and then laugh. He pressed a soft kiss against your temple.

"Tonight, though, you're mine." You disappeared in a cloud of black and blue mist and let it be said, you didn't think about the creatures that had declared war on you for the rest of the evening.

#kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #xmen #x men #x men comics #x men the animated series #x men 97 #x men evolution #x men x reader #marvel #marvel x readre

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kiragghar · 29 days

Text

My Baby Don't Cry

Pairing: -

Kir's notes: he's my adopted son the moment I saw his backstory :( pls take away all his pain, double it and give it to his parents :(

Tags: spoilers from chapter 260, Kaiser's backstory, 12 y.o Kaiser, mentioned child abu$3, fostering, the reader is gender neutral, the author is bad at comforting

word count: 1507

It was a bit late and you were walking home to your apartment, until you saw a figure in a hoodie curling up like a ball in an alleyway with a football in his arms. You approached the little kid, thinking that he was lost.

"Hi there little guy, why are you out here?" You squat down and ask the kid. He looked at you, his right eye bruised and his face a bit dirty. "A-are you okay?" You asked. He looked away for a while, hesitation in his eyes then shook his head.

~•~•~

Kaiser looked away from the stranger, if he says yes they'll probably leave him or take him back to that nightmare of a house. So he shook his head without making eye contact. "Oh, do you want me to take you home to your p-" Kaiser cut that question off with a hard shake of his head. "How about my place? Well, until you're a bit better," they ask, his heart was moved, and they asked him in a soft tone, the tone that he never heard, no one had treated him like that before. He nods, he wants to go far from that house. And this person seems nice, purely having good intentions.

~•~•~

"Okay then, let's go" You stood up and reached your hand down to him, hoping that he trusted you, aside from all the answers you got from him. He grabbed your hand and stood up himself.

You both walked along the now-closed shops, you let loose of your grip a bit thinking he would too, but instead, he gripped your hand a bit tighter. "So, what's your name?" you asked, trying to start a conversation. "Michael… Kaiser" he answered with a tired voice. "Michael Kaiser... That's a pretty name," you said. "Thank you..." He replied. It ended there, your walk was awkwardly silent until you arrived at your apartment.

~•~•~

The second they turned on the light switch, Kaiser felt weird. He never saw a house this bright and homey. Their apartment is filled with generally cute things, shelves with organized books sitting there, and a balcony with plants.

“You sit there okay, I'll get something for you to eat,” they say, pointing to the sofa and then disappearing into the kitchen. He sat on the sofa, ball in hand, and looked around, it's his first time sitting on a sofa, and it was comfy. He laid his back on the sofa, he felt more comfortable, the feeling he never got in ‘that’ house. The coffee table in front of him is neat with a succulent in the middle. A marveled at the foreign surroundings for a few minutes until they called him into the kitchen.

~•~•~

“Wash your hands first okay,” you ordered him. He nodded and walked to the next where you're standing. You turn the tap on and he reaches to the flowing water. When he finishes you turn off the tap (ofc) and dry his hands with a tea towel. “Wait,” you said to him as you dampened one corner of the tea towel. When you reached his face, he flinched back. “I won't hurt you, promise,” you assure him. With that, he permitted you to wipe the dirt off his face clean. When you're done cleaning his face you ask him to sit down at the dining table.

~•~•~

Kaiser sat down, grabbed a spoonful of food, and put it in his mouth. It's warm… And tasty… another weird feeling. He chewed and savored the food. This will probably be his first and last night here before going back to that miserable house.

They sat across him, eyes focusing on him. “I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself… I'm (y/n),” they introduce themselves. “Oh… N-nice to meet you…” he replies. They hummed in acknowledgment.

~•~•~

After he finished his meal you guided him to your bedroom. “You'll be sleeping here tonight, I'll be on the sofa if you need me,” you informed him, he looked at you and nodded unsurely. He walked to your bed and sat on the side of the bed for a bit. Then he lay down on your bed. “Good night Michael, sweet dreams,” you said as you slightly closed the door, leaving it ajar. You walk to the couch and lie on it. Your eyelids getting heavier and heavier and closed, finally asleep.

A few hours later you woke up to hear sniffling sounds from your bedroom. You walk and open your door slowly to see Michael lying facing away from the door. You slowly approach your bed and turn on the lamp on the bedside table. “Michael, are you okay?” you asked, you're worried something is wrong with him. He only shook his head in response, still facing away from you. “Do you want to tell me ab-” he shook his head. “Alright, I'll be here if you need me okay,” you inform him, he nods in response. After that, you walked to your desk and stayed there, finishing paperwork due in a few days. While you're finishing it, you think of something, he looks familiar, but you can't recall.

“(Y-y/n),” you heard a soft voice calling you. “Hm? What is it, Michael?” you asked. “You'll put me in the police station… right?” He asked, worried. What kind of question is that? You've heard about lost children being turned in to the police station when they're lost. But you don't think that's his case. “Do you want to?” You asked. He shook his head, hard. “I… I don't want to go back there…” he says, voice breaking, on the verge of crying. “Michael…” you said as you sat beside him and hugged him, comforting him. “I… I don't want to go back… My father, he… he hates me…” he uttered, and you feel his tears soaking into your shirt. “A-and he… he likes to… beat me up…” he continued. You're shocked when he said that. His father is insane, no guy would beat a child this bad. “There there… You're safe now, no one will beat you up here,” you assure him hoping that you don't hurt him. He only nods, you can understand how hard it is to talk while crying. “How about you stay with me here for a while,” you said. “Y-yeah,” he replied in agreement.

~•~•~

Bonus: in the end, Kaiser's father goes in jail for child abu$e, reader adopts Kaiser, they grow a parent-child bond, reader supports Kaiser knowing little about soccer and lives happily ever after ✧⁺⸜(●˙▾˙●)⸝⁺✧

#michael kaiser #bllk #blue lock #Kaiser is my son #kaiser michael #blue lock michael kaiser #bllk michael kaiser #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk x gender neutral reader

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hiraya-rawr · 1 year

Text

everywhere, everything – alhaitham

synopsis !! somehow, you find yourself stuck in a broom closet with your academic rival, alhaitham— and oh? is that a mistletoe?

contains !! 2.4k wc , gn reader, enemies to lovers? fluffy drama! dialogue-centric post, some intimacy (obviously)— lots of fluffy love. flustered things, alhaitham can't hold back okay- FOR SOME REASON IM NERVOUS ABOUT POSTING THIS IDK the outline was way longer than I thought, hence the late Christmas post

note !! i joined my first christmas collab event by @dustofthedailylife ! aaaaah and im also practicing scenario events where the setting is restricted (like a broom closet heheh)

11:46 PM, Christmas Eve

You shouldn't have listened to Kaveh. It's his party, in his (shared) house, yet you nodded along when he told you to grab a broom from the closet. It sounded simple enough—

Walking over to the broom closet at the end of the hall, away from the bustling party in the livingroom. Grabbing the handle, pulling it open, almost shrieking when you spotted the actual homeowner standing with the most irked expression on his face, then—

There are hands on your back, shoving you in as the closet door slams, the bang muffled by loud music. Your breath catches in surprise. Your face plants firmly on the forbidden chest. There are clicking noises outside the door handle.

In front of you, Alhaitham scowls and you can practically feel the anger radiating off of him.

"Did- did Kaveh just—" You stutter, still confused from the whirlwind of events that happened within seconds.

"Yes. He did. That bastard, I swear I'll-"

You drown out the insults and threats spewing from his mouth as you turn to look around. The closet is small, very small, the type that shouldn't have people in it in the first place.

The door is firmly on your back and you can feel that Alhaitham's own back is up against the shelves. Next to you stand a broom and mop, taking up the remaining space in the room. It's dark and you could barely tell what's in front of you (this firm thing. . . it is his chest, right?).

"How long have you been here?" You wonder out loud.

"5 wasted minutes. After he knocked over a bowl of chips and told me to get a broom. Honestly, that imbecile–"

"He told me to get a broom for the chips too! What the heck. This was premeditated!"

"Doesn't take a genius to figure that one out."

Your eyes narrow at his comment, glaring at what you suppose was his face.

"If you're so genius, you could have escaped the second he opened up that door."

"Ha, I could have if it weren't for a certain someone getting shoved into me."

"I'm not a wrecking ball, Scribe Haitham." You scoff, shifting to face him better. Of all the people to get pranked with, it just had to be your academic rival —from the day you received second place in the akademiya entrance exams to the day you both proposed the exact same thesis topic— he was always a step ahead and that infuriated you.

5 years ago, Entrance Exam Results Day

Of course, it wasn’t that he’s a smidge better than you that you hate him; rather, it’s because he acts like he’s so much better than anyone else that you hated him — from staring you down the day you tried to congratulate him on getting first place, to refusing to cooperate together despite having the same thesis topic — you believe your reasons for hating him are quite valid.

“You’re Alhaitham, right? Congratulations on receiving first place on the exams!” You greet cheerfully, a hand extended for him to shake. It was the first day commemorating the start of your academic life and you figured you might as well surround yourself with the right crowd.

Yet, he stays frozen, an odd squint in his eyes and you wonder if you should keep your hand out longer.

“It was to be expected.” He states simply, lightly shrugging, before returning to the book he was reading.

To be expected? First place? In Teyvat’s most prestigious academic institution? The one you toiled day and night in, consuming mountain loads of information, just to deserve your rank? Internally, you decided that you didn’t like him and that he’s an arrogant piece of sh– no, good thoughts (Name), you should befriend your schoolmates.

“Hahaha is that so? I guess you really must be smart,” You force a laugh, retrieving your hand, “If you don’t know yet, I’m–“

“I know you. You’re the one who received second on the exams.”

Okay. It’s official. He’s an arrogant piece of shit.

You grit your teeth, smiling, “. . . It was nice meeting you, Alhaitham. See you when lectures start.”

11:53 PM, Christmas Eve

". . . Stop moving." He tells you.

"What?"

"I said stop moving."

"I'm literally just breathing here, do you want me to stop that too?"

"You're squirming like a worm. Do you want to knock over chemicals off their shelves?”

Oh yeah, this was a broom closet.

"I can't help it when you're taking up all the space!" You huff in his direction, trying to get a clearer view of him with squinted eyes in the dark.

"Unless you want to kiss me, I suggest you stop trying to shove your face into mine as well."

You feel your face heat up, a stutter evident in your voice, "W-what? Why on Teyvat would I ever want that!"

"It's a statement, I never said you wanted it." He scoffs. It was getting warmer in the room, the inescapable warmth of him spreading to you and you wonder if your heartbeat was always this loud. You shuffle uncomfortably, how could he even insinuate that? This arrogant guy!

Maybe it was the small space getting to you, or the tension of being so close to someone you clearly feel contempt for, but you couldn’t stop the next words you say.

“Maybe you’re the one who wants to kiss me! How would I know you didn’t plan this with your roommate?” You jibe back, “Honestly, what kind of homeowner gets trapped in their own broom closet!”

“First of all, we both know -as Kaveh’s mutual friend- that he’s a bastard with his mind in the gutters. This is all his mastermind plan. Secondly, if you want to kiss me that badly, you don't even have to provoke me. by starting a fight.” Before you could even respond to that (or manage to comprehend it), you feel him shuffling back, his muscular torso moving to the whims of his arm as it presses against your own chest.

You unknowingly hold your own breath. Thump, thump, thump– is that his heart or yours?

A sound of a chain, metal clinking, reaches your ears.

“H-hold on, what are you doing?!” You panic, flustered.

“I’m trying to grab the pull-switch for a light, what do you think I’m doing?” He all but hisses back, “Now hold still—”

Light floods the room at the clicking sound, blinding you temporarily.

"—Oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us. Now here's your chance to kiss me." You hear him say and you freeze, quickly glancing up at the bright bulb to see the unmistakable mistletoe hanging next to it. Your jaw drops slightly.

"I— I am not kissing you! I told you that!" You exclaim, hands trying to shove him away for what little space you could muster. Kaveh is dead once you get out of here, you think to yourself.

You hear him scoff, "Again, I was only teasing you-"

"Then I suggest you stop!"

"-but I'd rather not reject tradition."

"W-what?"

5 years ago, Entrance Exam Results Day

Alhaitham believes in love. He understands everything about it– from the chemical compositions to the process. He understands the build up of love.

Naturally, it began when he saw your name only second to his first rank. It wasn't anything particularly special, you were a few points below the prodigy and he found it curious how someone managed to keep up with his wits.

“You’re Alhaitham, right? Congratulations on receiving first place on the exams!”

He's frozen. He knows he's staring. There's a hand outstretched for him yet he hasn't willed his own to take it. It's only for a second but internally, he recognizes the lapse in his act. Say something, Alhaitham, say it now–

“It was to be expected.” He states simply, lightly shrugging, before returning to the book he was reading. It lays flat on his hand and he rereads the same sentence, conscious of your presence next to him. He tries to rationalize– he finds you attractive, you seem to be his type, and it's natural for a man such as himself to eventually feel such things and react this way. Not even he, as logical as he is, could be an independent variable for love.

“Hahaha is that so? I guess you really must be smart,” You laugh and he finds the sound pleasant but forced as you retrieve your hand. “If you don’t know yet, I’m–“

He knows you. He saw your name and looked up the basic credentials already, it's natural as the soon-to-be-top student of your batch.

“I know you. You’re the one who received second on the exams.”

“. . . It was nice meeting you, Alhaitham. See you when lectures start.”

It seems he didn't make a good first impression; but that's fine, logically, he has no plans to act on his feelings anyway. As the elders would say– studies first before lovers.

5 years ago, Thesis Proposal Day

Logic was harder to act on when love was the opponent –as Alhaitham later realized– because, Archons, were you difficult to get rid of.

He notices you– everywhere. This shouldn't be surprising considering your similar academic strands and ranks, but that was exactly the issue! He was hyperaware of everything you did and what you would next do.

Alhaitham believes in love. He knows of all the ridiculous tropes, unable to escape the concept of it as it floats around even in one of the most highly rational spaces in Teyvat. He had no plans of pursuing love, it isn't something he wanted to fit into his intricate schedule,

Yet, he feels pulled by it.

He sees you in class, the seat next to you empty, and he wants to take it but he doesn't.

He bumps into you in the halls, your hands carrying stacks of research materials, but you could handle yourself as he glances the other way.

You ask him, almost hesitantly, shyly, if he would like to pair up for one of the most important thesis projects in your lives and– he flat out refuses, because -archons forbid- the remnants of his discipline and self-control be lost over sleepless nights with you next to him, working on something you both proposed.

No, he would not have that. It's not a part of his life plan (you aren't part of his life plan).

Yet, as he passes out papers in class, people's hands brushing against his, he can't help but compare yours– your hand, your fingers brushing on his, skin on skin, he feels it in his nerve receptors, electric despite not electrifying– yours is felt so much more than how he felt the others and he can't describe how.

12:00 AM, Christmas Day

And he feels it again now. The hyperawareness of you on him, like the day your fingers brushed– this illogical, subtle, uncontrollable feeling.

It must be love, he tells himself. He understands love and everything about it and it infuriates him.

But the closet is too small, you're much too close, he wants to do something. Then– he remembers. A mistletoe. Kaveh hung a mistletoe in the broom closet. Mentally, he knew this all along, but now it was becoming increasingly obvious that a mistletoe existed above him (Above you. Above you and him).

Thump, thump, thump– it's his heart beating. He shuffles to reach a chain, he needs to see it to believe it (that a mistletoe is there) but what good would that do? Is it to simply show you? To see how you'd react? A chance for him to act on these frantic feelings?

Love is illogical, it's breaking the bottle he so carefully closed.

“H-hold on, what are you doing?!” You panic, flustered.

“I’m trying to grab the pull-switch for a light, what do you think I’m doing?” He replies and he hopes he doesn't sound too rushed, “Now hold still—”

Light floods the room at the clicking sound, and it blinds him temporarily, but he feels everything– you being there, your clothes brushing against his and your skin on his, everything and everything–

–and the mistletoe, there.

"Oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us. Now here's your chance to kiss me." He says and time unmistakably slows for him. His heart is steady, as if acting on his feelings were the only way to calm his fight with himself.

You look up at him frantically, "I— I am not kissing you! I told you that!" You exclaim, hands trying to shove him away for what little space you could muster.

He scoffs, "Again, I was only teasing you-"

"Then I suggest you stop!"

"-but I'd rather not reject tradition."

"W-what?"

You freeze as he tests the waters. He understands love, he understands all the tropes, the build-up, the chemicals, but -holy dendro archon- is he taking risks.

"I'm asking if I could kiss you."

"Wha-what!"

"You're repeating your words now. Would you like me to ask again or should I give you time to clear your ears?"

Under the warm light, he sees you visibly gulp. He can't help the way he leans in closer, an arm resting on the door beside your head.

"I don't need to clear my ears! I just- I thought you, well, hated me," You hurriedly reply, looking away from his own gaze. The floor is way more interesting, it seems.

"Hated you? Whoever said that?"

"W-well, you acted as though you did. Always avoiding me, always pulling away–"

"I'm not pulling away now, am I?" As if to prove his point, he leans closer, slipping his fingers under your chin to face him directly, "But it seems like you're the one shying away."

You're sure you stopped breathing at some point.

"To be fair, I was trying to avoid you back then. But not in the way that you think." His thumb brushes over your lower lip, "It was never because I hated you. In fact, it's quite the opposite."

Silence lingers in the air at his subtle confession. At the lack of a reply, Alhaitham sighs, "If I'm making you uncomfortable, we can break this door down and yo-"

"I'm not uncomfortable!" You blurt out, "I- I just didn't think you- you felt this way."

"Then may I?"

"May you?" You repeat questioningly.

"Mistletoe." He states and stiffly, he feels the slightest nod of your head on his fingers and–

The door swings open.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS, LOVEBIRDS! How are we doing? Is my dear housemate finally getting some action in his bleak life?"

"KAVEH!!!"

prompt !! "oh, how convenient, there's a mistletoe above us."

ko-fi !! commissions !! best m.list

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @stygianoir14 @shizunxie @bluriie @aestellia @abyislan08 @scooterscoob @lordbugs

#dust winter wonderland #yaepublishinghouse #al haitam x reader #al haitham #genshin al haitham #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin fic #kaveh #genshin kaveh #genshin impact imagines

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theglamorousferal · 11 months

Text

The Cryptid of Smallville

I am posting the first couple chapters of the fic that I am currently working on juuuust in case AO3 goes down again. In the next couple days I’ll start posting some of my wips that I don’t think I’ll finish. If any of them inspire people to write more then I’ll be happy.

I had the thought a while ago about what if Danny was raised alongside Clark Kent and the hijinks that would result in Danny being near the liminal space that is cornfields. These are basically a series of connected one-shots because I am not that great at trying to do a real plot lol

Without further ado, here’s the first chapter of the Cryptid of Smallville! (Small edit: here’s the link to AO3 the first two chapters are there)

______________________________________________________________ The night sky was clear and open above the cornfields as a gentle breeze caused the plants to stir. It was a calm night on the Kent family farm. A streak of neon green broke across the sky and landed in the middle of the fields, purple tinged smoke wafting from the crash site. A boy of about six rolled over in his sleep, glowing green eyes glancing at the stars above framed by smoke. The gentle breeze is still blowing, returning the night to calm.

*****

Danny was gonna put Clockwork in soup time whenever he got back into the Zone.

He was laying there, staring at the clouds in the sky, surrounded by corn, and only about three and a half feet tall, wondering where in the Realms he was. Clockwork had said something about sending him off somewhere with people who could handle a child with powers growing up before tossing him through a portal by the ankle. He had ended up in low orbit and was lulled to sleep by staring at the stars he is so fond of.

Crawling out of the hole he was in, he examined the surrounding area and just found a bunch of burnt and slightly smoldering corn and kicked up dirt. The gentle breeze brought the smell of bacon to his nose and he floated to look just above the tall plants around him. He spots a house in the distance and starts heading there, making sure to walk the last few yards just in case this isn’t where CW intended him to go. He finds himself stumbling from the field just to make eye contact with a man pulling on his work boots for the day on the porch steps, the man freezes.

“Hey Martha?” The man yells into the house.

“Yes Jon?” a voice muffled from the door yells back.

“Do we have a spare room done up?” the man, Jon, asks, not taking his eyes off Danny.

“Why? Are you expecting someone and forgot to tell me?” the voice sounds like it’s getting closer to the door.

“No honey, I think we may have a repeat situation of Clark though.” He briefly glances from Danny up to the last bits of smoke wafting from the field. A quiet “What?” comes from the house. He gentles his voice, full attention on Danny. “Hey son, did you have a bit of an accidental landing in the corn? Is your head okay? Are your parents around?”

Danny stays still for a moment thinking about what’s going on. The man seems to at least suspect that he crash landed on his property and mentioned something about something like this happening before. Have these people dealt with a random child appearing at their house before? Specifically one that crashed from the sky? He has many questions, but he should probably answer Jon first.

“Yeah, I got sent away until I was better, my head doesn’t hurt at all and my parents are not exactly from around here, and don’t know where I am.” He pauses thinking about it. “Does the children-crashing-onto-your-farm-thing happen a lot to you?”

Jon chuckled as he finished tying his boots up and walked down the stairs just as the door opens and a woman in an apron is standing there looking surprised to see an unknown child standing in her yard. The man crouches down in front of Danny, giving him a once-over.

“You’d be surprised, now what’s your name son?.”

“It’s Danny Fenton, what’s yours?”

“Jon Kent, my wife over there is Martha. Now you look like you could use a good meal and a washup, how’s that sound?” Jon grins at Danny and musses up his hair before standing and offering a hand to walk into the house. He smiles over at Martha who blinks and then gives Danny a warm smile, standing aside to let them enter the house.

“Good thing I made some extra breakfast then, let’s get some food in you young man, you’re as skinny as a post!” She smiles and heads towards the kitchen. “Be sure to wash up your hands first hun, can’t eat with dirty hands! And Jon! What have I told you about your muck boots being in the house! I’m sure Danny can find his way and wash his own hands; second door on the right hun; and git outta my house with those things on, I’ll have more coffee ready for you once you feed the animals!” Jon pouted and trudged his way out of the house.

Danny smiled a little to himself as he looked for the door Martha was talking about, noting the wallpaper and decor that looked like every midwest farmer’s house he’d seen in any piece of media ever. After washing his hands he made his way to where he could hear soft humming and dishes being washed. He saw a plate of pancakes and bacon on the table next to a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk, and a container of syrup and headed to the spot.

“Thank you Mrs. Kent.” he said from his seat and she smiled back at him, going back to the dishes. Danny realized he’d probably have to start explaining what he could to them soon, but decided to focus on the breakfast in front of him. The breakfast that wasn’t alive and currently trying to kill him. He nearly cried.

“So Danny,” Martha began as she wiped her hands off with a dish rag. “Do you remember how it is you got here?” She joined him at the table with a cup of coffee after setting a mug, a spoon and the sugar bowl next to the machine for her husband when he came in.

“I do, it’s a really weird story though, I’m not sure you’ll believe me.” He was hesitant, he still wasn’t sure these were the people that Clockwork meant to send him to. Though they’ve taken the whole crash-landed-child-thing pretty well… Screw it, he’ll see if he can wait until Jon comes back and explain to both of them. “Can we wait for Mr. Kent too? I don’t really want to say it twice.”

She smiled at him, taking a sip of her coffee and then nodded. “That’s fine hun, he shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes unless the rooster decided to pick a fight again.” she chuckled to herself, looking out of the window while drinking her coffee. She sees the faint trail of smoke rising in the sky outside and her eyebrows pinch in worry. “You didn’t happen to see anythin’ burning when you got up, did you?”

Danny glances out the window and sees the smoke. “Oh no, there was just a little bit still smoldering in the hole, but there wasn’t anything actively burning. I can show you both when I finish explaining what I can.” The slapping of a screen door startles him and Jon walks in, heading straight for the coffee maker and making himself a cup, then joining them at the table.

“So Danny-boy, what can you tell us?” Jon gives his full attention to Danny.

Danny shifts in his seat, looking every part the six year old he appeared to be, uncertain at the attention of two adults. “Well, it’s a long story and kinda out there? I’m not sure how much you’ll believe?” He looks uncertain at the pair across from him who share a look. Martha reaches across the table to take Danny’s hand.

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe the stuff we’re used to, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Danny only hesitated a moment longer and then sighed looking far older than his apparent six years. “So to start off with, wherever this is, I’m not from around here. I’m assuming since you both speak English that this is still Earth, but maybe not MY Earth, I’m still a bit confused on the whole ‘multiverse’ thing, but either way, I got sent here until some stuff got sorted out and so I’ll be here until it does.” He was rambling, he knew, but he’s kind of anxious about stuff. “I kinda got put in my childhood body and now I have to get back to my actual age and my Guardian said something about time here running differently than in my dimension before he just chucked me through a portal. He did say he was sending me to people who could handle my weirdness as I age, so I’m assuming you are them and maybe have some experience with kids with freaky weird stuff happening to them?”

The Kents once more shared a look, this one a little longer than the last, then turned back to Danny. “Oh son, I think you’ll fit in just fine. So, how long can we expect you for? I can tell you’re probably a lot older than six judging by how you talk?”

Danny blinked at him, trying to process the fact that they didn’t seem phased and rather seemed like they believed him. “Uh, I was sixteen, so I guess a decade? I’m sorry to impose on you for a while, really I can figure out stuff on my own, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Jon chuckled “Oh trust me son, it wouldn’t be an issue, I’m sure Clark would love a younger brother, or at the very least a friend who understands him. We have plenty of room here, and though we’d probably ask you for help with chores, we’d be glad to have you for however long you need.”

Danny blinks again at them. They weren’t serious, right? They just seem fine taking in a random child and having him live with them for however long. And who was this Clark? What did he mean by younger brother?

“Clark?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh right, our son, you’ll meet him when he gets home from school, I’m sure you’ll get along just fine! Now Danny, let me show you to a room and we can get you settled, we’ll probably have to head on over to the thrift shop to get you something to wear besides these charred and muddy pj’s, but we should have something from Clark that’s too small that’ll fit you for now.” Martha took his hand and led him upstairs to where he’d be in apparently his new home.

*****

Clark had had a pretty boring day at school. The classes were boring. He had to hold back in gym class again and when studying the skeletal system in biology, he started studying the teacher’s bones instead of the display skeleton or the worksheet. He was really looking forward to getting home and maybe going for a fly around the fields where no one could see him or maybe catching the latest episode of Rescue Rangers.

He could spot his house in the distance and after looking around to make sure no one would see him, he sped down the driveway as fast as he could, knocking up a lot of dirt in the process. He really liked going fast, whether running or flying. He just loved the wind in his hair.

“Ma, Pa, I’m home.” he kicked his sneakers off and rushed upstairs into his room to drop off his bag. He listened around for heartbeats and realized that Pa was out on the tractor and Ma was out with the chickens. He froze as he heard a much closer sound though. It was very slow and faint, but he could hear another heartbeat in the house. Even more, he could hear someone muttering to themselves in the guest room and the flipping of pages.

Clark slowly made his way down the hall towards the sound and peaked in the room with his x-ray vision. There, sitting on the ceiling, was a child about half his age reading a ratty old book about space. Clark stood in the doorway, now able to see him in regular vision and just stared at him. He took a moment until he decided to just join him up there and sat across from him.

“So who are you?” Clark asked while the kid was still focused on his book. He didn’t even look up from the book.

“Name’s Danny.” The kid paused for a second before he looked up and stared at Clark. Danny looked from Clark to the ceiling, to the floor, and then back to Clark. “Oh, so that’s why they said I’d fit right in here. I guess we are pretty similar! I’m guessing you’re Clark then?” The child beamed at him, putting out his hand to shake. Clark took it gently, not wanting to hurt the kid. Then the kid gripped his hand tight and Clark realized that they have more in common than he thought and gripped his hand tighter in response.

“So where are you from?” Clark asked, very curious as to how this kid who could fly and had his strength, but also had almost no heartbeat ended up at his house. Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m not from this Earth and I kinda got put here to recover for a long while and my Guardian decided your parents are the best equipped to handle a kid growing up with powers, so he sent me here. I’m guessing because of you?”

“Yeah, mine started manifesting around your age. What powers do you have? How long do you plan to be here? Where are you from? You said this wasn’t your Earth, I’m guessing you’re from a different dimension then? That’s so cool!” Clark, ever curious, shot off many questions rapid fire and Danny laughed while answering them all as best he could.

Part 2

#Danny Phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #superman #clark kent #danny fenton #danny is a cryptid #cryptids #de-aged danny #ma kent #pa kent

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mamamangaka · 4 months

Text

(No one has posted this and I need it so I shall cook for myself)

- Yandere!Alastor with a g/n reader who likes toys and art stuff -

Okay so here’s the thing I kinda see about Alastor:

Hes a fucking looney who will do anything and everything to keep you if he happens to fall in love.

But lemme tell you if you break past those walls and manage to ameliorate his aceness to the point that he’s yandere about you then baby you done.

You might as well have signed over your soul to him.

I like to think only one thing in particular would peak his interest at first.

Maybe your drawing outside a coffee shop -

Or reading tarot cards at the park?

Perhaps even reading under a tree, who knows?

But whatever it is, Alastor saw you and he froze.

He never once expected to fall so deeply in love (especially not at first sight) and I feel that when he did finally succumb after a bit of denial, it would be a quick realization and he’d make a decision to seek you out immediately.

He’d closely stalk you for some time but when he gets you, he’d keep you in his radio tower, where no one else goes and where his world really is.

He’d probably kidnap you mere weeks after realizing he’s enamored, it wouldn’t take long before he came up behind you out of nowhere.

He was someone you’d only seen once or twice in passing but found attractive each time, though you weren’t exactly thinking about a partnership.

He wouldn’t be asking you, he’d simply take you.

(You didn’t need to know he’d been admiring you anyway.)

You weren’t someone of great power or who was well known. You simply met a tragic fate and unfortunately ended up here by mistake due to being involved in “black magic”.

It was unfair, in your opinion, to be cast down simply due to your divination talents and history.

Never once did you misuse your gifts yet here you were.

When you come around, you’re in Alastor room in the hotel.

He explains the situation and gives you options.

You ask to go, not interested in whatever he’s offering and he explains that’s not an option so you need to pick another one.

After demanding to leave, trying to open the door, banging and calling for help and eventually pleading and sobbing with him, you realize you aren’t going anywhere.

You wheep and hoarsely beg as he carries you into the wooded area that seems to pocket into another place.

You realize later that it was a path to the radio tower.

There’s a wooden door that leads to his own personal “home” in that tower.

And inside, I’d expect it’s quite nice.

Greenery everywhere, plants and/or herbs hanging from the ceiling and a cozy woodstove. Lovely flowers and pretty trees surrounding the outside, blocking the view of the horrors that hell had naturally.

A earthy, modest but very comfortable and exquisite environment and cottage style house with at least one library on hand.

But he can take all this beauty away quite easily, so don’t forget or step out of line. The view is a luxury he gives based on your behavior; do not tread lightly.

Now, he’s very commanding and strict with his darling, often times dictating what they eat and wear, bossing them around and physically moving them to where he wants.

• “My little doe, you were simply taking too much time to get to me, I was just helping you along.”

• “Oh darling, don’t you know I’m doing this for your own good? Don’t cry, come here: give me a kiss.”

• “No no, little doe. It’s best if you rest right now. Ah, yes, I can see you don’t want to sleep. How about I read to you or turn the radio on, hm?”

But he’s also super old timey and you would immediately be considered his spouse, and he would pamper and treat you with such respect (at least as much as he could)

If he found out you liked dolls or soft toys, well he’d be all over that and try to use it to his advantage.

I feel like it would be a rag doll copy of himself or a porcelain/ball jointed doll (dressed in 1920-1950 attire) as a Victorian styled Queen or what not.

• “You seem so lonely honey bun, so I picked you up something nice. Hopefully it will warm you a little when you think of me.”

• “I can see you fiddle with your hands a lot, mi amor. Here, have a doll to dress and play with for when your pretty hands need a break from the books.”

• “Oh my, it seems a nap is in order for your crankiness. Where is your toy? It’s better for you to have something to sleep with while I’m doing the broadcast.”

But he wouldn’t have bought it for you, oh no, because the only thing he buys you is the most pristine art supplies and most flattering jewelry and clothes —

— he’d have made this himself for you, from his own power.

And he’d use it to keep an eye on you no matter where you happened to be.

Needed a moment alone? Not without the doll he gave you.

Was hiding from punishment? Not without the doll.

If you left it somewhere in a vain attempt for distance, you’d find it on your person the second you reached in your bag or turned around.

And when Alastor found out you left it? He’d be livid.

But you wouldn’t know he was mad by his face, only his voice and the static crackle in the background.

• “Don’t you ever leave that doll again sweetheart. Do you understand me?”

• “This is how I protect you, darling. It’s best for everyone if you follow direction.”

• “Now honey, you don’t want to lose your privilege to wander around the hotel and mingle with the others, do you? Then you best keep that doll close, hm?”

If you possibly took a liking to the doll he gave you, well..

His heart might soar, he won’t lie

How cute and innocent you were, so completely unaware of the horrors he possesses — the doll possesses — if you step out of line

It’s something he really loves about you; you trust him (mostly bc you have to)

And if you took up sewing to make outfits for the doll?? He’d be so over the moon and even conjure up a little wardrobe for them if enough clothes are made.

And your drawings??? Oh don’t even get me started

too late I did it myself here I go

He would parade you around like you were the messiah of the demonic art world

It didn’t matter if you or anyone else thought you were good

You like doing it? Hes gonna over indulge you.

You drew something just for him???

Then it’s getting a golden frame and you’re getting the radio host fame.

He wouldn’t let anyone touch your sketchbook. He’d actually kill anyone who destroys any piece of your work.

He always coos over you, he’s literally obsessed with you.

Admires you while your drawing like you are the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

Always begs to see your drawings.

Does everything in his power to help you with inspiration or getting out of art block.

Hangs up his favorite pieces you’ve done around the hotel and talks you up to everyone.

• “My my, who would have guessed my little doe was so full of talent? Ah-ha, well me, of course!”

• “Oh yes, they’re nothing short of extraordinary and excel in everything they attempt. It’s absolutely magnificent.”

• “Quite the looker, aren’t they? It’s no wonder I fell so hard, they made this old withering heart beat once more.”

NOW LETS ADDRESS THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM:

What if you broke a rule? Either accidental or on purpose?

*rubs palms together deviously*

I mean it’s hell, so it’s not like you could actually die and he’d permanently lose you, but I could see him considering killing, traumatizing and horrifying you to make a point for when you came back. If you broke the rule on purpose or left the hotel without a damn good reason or asking him, I definitely think he’d ponder on it.

But I honestly don’t know if he’d be able to go that far if he’s to the point that he’s fallen for you.

I definitely think he’d be the kind to chain you away for a bit and ignore you for a while after really scaring you though, having only come in when you cry out for him or need to be attended.

He’d be condescending and emotionally manipulating for sure.

• “Well dear, we wouldn’t be in this predicament if you would have just listened and been good, hm?”

• “No no, you can’t come downstairs. I told you this time out is for two weeks. It’s been only two days darling.”

•“Now that’s not the way one of such class as ourselves behave. Shush your crying, my sweet.”

He wouldn’t tolerate a darling openly defying him, he’d put you over his knee and bruise your behind so quick and wouldn’t think twice.

And getting off punishments easy? Nah.

Good behavior or not, you’re gonna be going through the whole thing every single time. He won’t let you have even an ounce of wiggle room on that.

Your bottom stings after only thirty spanks? He isn’t stopping. He said 50 and he meant it, so buckle up buttercup, this is gonna be a long ride.

You don’t want to finish your plate? Well that’s a nice opinion, quite cute! .. but he doesn’t recall asking you what you wanted, so eat up ~

You aren’t tired? Well, allow him the pleasure of wearing you out and soothing you to slumber.

I think he’d allow the darling to cling to him though, that’s the kind of yandere I see him as. He’d maybe mock you a little at first and seem patronizing but all in all, he finds the need to touch him endearing and he does become fond of it.

I think he’d make you dependent on it, really. He’d always encourage you to cuddle up to him, always making sure you sit or stand directly next to him and that’s he’s always got his arm around you or you hanging onto his own.

He’d be tolerant of your crying. I think he’d find you cute while in distress, so that would be his favorite time to hold you tight. He’d caress your tearstreaks and kiss away the droplets.

•“Sweet sugar plum, you’ve been so emotional lately.”

• “Pretty crybaby, what can I do to make you feel better? Come now, there must be something your husband can whip up for you.”

“Oh, my poor, darling y/n..” he’d tsk, stroking the side of your face and nuzzling noses, “don’t cry, hush now, it’s alright, your faithful and devoted protector is here.”

#yandere #yandere!Alastor #Hazbin Hotel improper headcannons #my brainrot #the radio demon #yandere alastor x reader #I’m tired #gender neutral reader #unhealthy relationships #I do not condone this behavior IRL #Hazbin hotel #Alastor #trigger warning

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