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spotaus · 2 months ago

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New Age Au (Nighttime Worries)

Okay remember how I said I'd be back? Yeah. I'm unwell. This is a shorter one that I think could definitely be approved upon, but I live for posting drabbles so 🫡🫡 good luck soldiers <3

This is an Error pov set maybe a month or two after Night became small.

Also @ancha-aus and @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz ! Welcome back! :]

"Nightmare?" Error's voice broke through the blackness of the space outside his workshop. The inside wasn't much brighter, a few loose blue strings being the only thing giving the room a faint glow. "What're you doing up here so late?"

There was no point in titles right now. Error had always been pretty bad about using then, but especially now that the king was... younger than him. Now that Nightmare was smaller.

Besides, it was the middle of the night, up in the top room of a fairly tall tower. He was the only one who came up here, and he'd know if there was anyone aside from Nightmare around.

The King had come to his door, and now stood outside it. He had his cloak wrapped at his shoulders, but Error was pretty sure he could see the soft, thin, purple of his sleepwear. He didn't even see Night's mask. It was just that soft white eyelight peering up at him in the dark.

"I... I'm not sure." Nightmare replied quietly.

Error let a breath pass between them.

Silence.

"You're not sure?" Error repeated incredulously.

Surely Nightmare wasn't visiting for no reason. Surely the king hadn't just popped by far into the night for fun.

Nightmare seemed to clutch at his cloak a bit tighter.

"I was in my study reading over documents, and I mentioned being thirsty, so Dust left to go get Ccino up and have him make something." He explained, then. The words coming quickly. "They took longer than I expected, so I moved to go meet them, but-" His breath quickened.

Error was piecing it together now. The stiffness. The rapid way he'd grabbed for the strings which would alert Error to his presence.

"I swore someone was following me, and you were the nearest." He finished, his eyelight dragging away to gaze back at the stairs behind him.

They were cold, and unwelcoming, and curved shortly out of sight into a dark pit. Away from Error's guiding lights.

Error gazed at Nightmare as he gathered a few more strings from his sockets. The magic spooled and glowed between his fingers, growing bright enough to cast Nightmare's shadow. Long and tall. Like his old form.

He wasn't focusing much on that, though. More, the dark circles that seemed to be under Nightmare's sockets. They made him look so weary, and sad. Tired.

"Well, I can tell you no one followed you up here. I'd know." Error offered him the quick comfort, and watched as Nightmare gave a hesitant little nod. Though, he couldn't seem to draw his gaze away.

It was like he was straining to hear any little noise. See any hidden face in the darkness.

Error sighed to himself.

Internally, of course. He wasn't that comfortable around the king. If only because he doubted the jumpy ruler would appreciate a fond sigh in the midst of his worry.

He'd heard from Ccino that Nightmare tended to get worried, and seen it enough times now that he had been spending more time outside his workshop.

"We should go back to your study, your highness." Error suggested, his strings already flying behind him, clutching and wrapping at his current project. Pulling it towards him, slinging in a satchel to hold tight to his side.

Nightmare glanced back to him briefly. In worry.

"If Ccino and Dust are both up and they get back to find you missing?" He asked loosely, "They're going to turn the castle upside down."

Something in that seemed to register for Nightmare, because he seemed to jolt and look fully towards Error.

"You're accompanying me?"

Error really held in that fond sigh this time. He cursed himself for picking up on that habit from his brothers.

"Sure. I mean, who am I to deny a chance to work in the study again?" He joked, before changing his tone slightly. "Plus, I have my magic. Anyone following you would be dusted before they could try anything."

This seemed to finally reassure Nightmare enough.

Error didn't think about Night's past all that often. He certainly thought of the king, but never what led him to feel so vulnerable. He figured it wasn't just that loss of magic.

Error stepped out of his workshop and stood beside Nightmare on the small landing.

They were very close. Close enough that Error's bones fizzled with the ghost of pressure as Nightmare's robe fell into one of Error's arms.

He flinched away, and Nightmare did the same with a quick little 'apologies'.

They stood there a moment, collecting themselves, before Error started down.

The stairs were long, and cold, and Error regretted his choice to not slip on his sandals before exiting his workshop, but there was no way he was turning around and being a big baby about it.

He kept a sense on Nightmare. His shoes clicked quietly and diligently against the tone, Light little patters just behind him.

Error remembered a time when he used to move in complete silence. He preferred it like this.

The steps were illuminated in blue magic, a Cyan coating every crack and crevice, giving them a little bubble of sight coming directly from Error's hand where he held the wad of illuminating magic.

It wasn't a very long trip. Not at all. But the quite felt tense and nervous. Error figured it was just Nightmare's worries feeding into his own tired energy. He'd not slept yet either.

Soon enough they came to the break in the hall, where the arch to the stairway intercepted the main hallway between the Twin's wing (the one where Nightmare resided with the Knights) and the rest of the castle.

Error hadn't realized how true it was that Night must've panicked halfway to his destination and rushed up to Error.

The hall was quiet so far, and devoid of people, so he led the charge into the wide, cold space.

The floors here had nice rugs lining the center, and he hopped onto the island of comfort away from the ruthless stone. Nightmare followed him swiftly.

He tried to appear comfortable, because he could tell Nightmare was staring. He always did that when he was trying to figure something out.

Something about feeling emotions when he was big and goopy. He couldn't do it anymore.

"Still clear." Error reported, and Nightmare nodded again.

They moved towards Nightmare's wing.

Error hadn't been here long, but he knew that Nightmare's wing was where he had his room, one he's had since childhood, his study, and the rooms where his knights had all eventually ended up.

It wasn't separated by a physical barrier, but no one dared to go into it unless they were invited by Night or the Knights. Or Ccino.

Error has had permission since first arriving, Nightmare insisting if he needed anything he could come searching. Error had never taken the offer before all this.

Of course, now was different.

Now the king was small, and his age, and they were friends. Or, he hoped they were, at least.

They moved quietly down the hall, passing rooms Error figured held Nightmare's resting elite guard. Or, maybe they were all off doing projects. He was pretty sure Cross was the only one with a decent sleep schedule among them.

Regardless, there wasn't any sign of movement, no other souls anywhere in the stretch of hall.

When they arrived to the study door, it was slightly ajar.

Error held out an arm, halting both himself and Nightmare just outside. A glance revealed Nightmare was surprised to see the door open.

Nightmare always closed doors behind him. It was a force of habit Error had seen plenty of times.

"Dust?" Nightmare tentatively called out.

Thank the gods Nightmare has faith in his knights. The thought that Dust might be inside hadn't even crossed is mind.

Error flinched slightly as the door swung inwards, revealing Dust.

He seemed to scan the hall, quickly taking in the scene. Error, standing partially between Night and the door. Night unharmed.

"My lord, you had me worried." Dust said quietly, that voice low and almost a mumble.

He moved out into the hall, past the two of them.

Dust was short. Nearly shorter than Nightmare. He'd apparently never been tall, if the joking he'd heard was to be believed.

Nightmare muttered an apology, quietly, and Error grumbled a bit to himself as Nightmare started around him, towards the study.

He followed, quickly moving from carpet to stone to carpet again.

He stayed on the ground just long enough for Nightmare to get comfortable on one of his sofas, where a few documents were strewn, before pulling himself and his project up into the air. To the small platform of strings he'd been constructing among the rafters of the high-ceiling.

"Nightmare, you alright?" Dust questioned more quietly once he shut the door, "Why'd you leave?"

Error watched from his perch as Nightmare sunk in on himself a bit. Though he didn't flinch away as Dust took up a spot on the nearest chair.

"I thought I heard something, so I came to find you." He said smally. "But I thought I heard it again in the hall, and I wasn't sure how far away you had gone to find Ccino, so- so I rushed up to Error's workshop instead of coming back."

Dust seemed to think about it for a second, before he nodded to himself. Error couldn't see his eyelights thanks to the angle.

"Alright, I understand." He said simply, "I apologize for leaving you alone like that."

Nightmare just nodded a bit to himself, turning back to his papers.

"It's alright. Error brought me back safely." He said, then.

Error was glad he was up in his perch, because Nightmare's voice was very nice when he was calm. And it felt really nice to have Nightmare speak highly of him. He tried not to react as he saw Dust lift his skull and squint up at his platform among the shadowy rafters.

He stuck a hand out, the one with the strings still glowing around it, and gave a thumbs up to the knight.

He was well aware the Knights weren't all that trusting of him. But, then again Error was the newest one, and seemingly someone Nightmare had decided to trust all on his own.

Though, Dust seemed different. He just nodded and focused again on Nightmare. He didn't chastise him for sticking around or bother him to come down.

In the ensuing silence, Error got to work unraveling his project from his satchel.

The glowing string moved about to light the dim space, as a few well-placed pulls allowed the pieces of his work to gently spread out onto the woven ground of his platform.

Several arrowheads were spread before him, a few shafts discarded to the side. Each arrow point was covered in different magical layers, some looser than others, some more obvious.

Error had been working for a bit now on an idea he'd had when he first got to the town where the wizards had been setting up for the King's arrival. To impress him, and hopefully be hired.

One of those people had been accompanied by an archer, and their showing had been of magic-tipped arrows that could harness blue magic once they were stuck inside, forcing an enemy to a full stop if they were hit.

It was a clever idea, but it was a one-trick show, and could only be used by the monster shooting them because they had a blue soul trait. Humans, non-patience monsters, they'd be out of luck.

Error wanted to try something like that, but better. Use pre-made arrows and find a way to easily coat them in his magic. His strings always stayed, and the potency always remained strong, no matter how far away he was. He'd not realized that back at school, when he was testing something at his house, and accidentally set a room on fire back at the academy with strings he'd left behind.

Though, progress had been slow. It was hard to work with materials he didn't make, but it made no sense to craft them from scratch himself, it'd be a waste of time to make enough for the entire guard, especially since arrows were a one-time use.

The ones he'd made technically worked, but the strings either dulled the point, or loosened on impact and were easy to pull out. He needed them to stay put.

Oh.

An idea rushed into his head, and he scooped up one of his unused arrowheads, spinning it between his fingers, before collecting more of his magic and getting to work on his idea.

It didn't take long, not at all, but it took just long enough that he hadn't noticed Ccino enter the room.

Error rolled to the edge of his platform, leaning over a bit, to spot that Ccino was now sat on the couch beside Nightmare, the king tucked into the older skeleton's side. Was he shivering?

Error figured that, just maybe, Nightmare wouldn't be in the mood to look at his deadly magical weapon right this second. He was fine with that, he'd just show him tomorrow. Or whenever he visited again.

Before he could commit to rolling back out of sight, he found his eyelights meeting Ccino's over Nightmare's skull.

"Oh, Error!" He greeted quietly. Ccino was always careful around him. Not unkind. "Would you like some tea? Dust's not having any, so I have an extra cup."

The offer was surprising, and Error debated.

Sure, why the hell not. He hadn't had tea in a while, and should probably drink something.

He wordlessly rolled off his platform, one hand ensuring strings dropped him gently to the carpet behind the couch that Nightmare and Ccino were sat on.

Ccino smiled at him, gently nudging Nightmare to sit up so that he could pour a new cup.

When Night straightened, he wiped at his sockets before turning around to face Error. One hand held his tea gently, the other was free and braced against the wooden couch back.

It seemed like he was going to say something, when he blinked and focused in on Error's hand.

"Oh! You were working on a project?" He asked quietly, and Error internally cursed his habits.

He still had the arrowhead loosely draped from strings in his other hand. He hadn't even realized it. It was just easier to not forget where he put things if he kept hold of them.

"Yeah. It's... not finished yet. This is just the best version I have right now." He said, lifting his hand up so that Nightmare could see it better.

By proxy, the other two could see it as well. Ccino returned with the cup, and held it out on its saucer to Error over the back of the couch.

He didn't seem offended when Error used strings to grip it and hold it. It was easier to keep from spilling, and free up his hands as he did other tasks. He had better awareness with his strings than he did his normal body.

"Mm. Magic arrows, like from the Wizard Tryouts?" Dust spoke up from his seat a bit further away.

Nightmare blinked in surprise as he seemed to be reminded of that showing. Then his brow furrowed. "Didn't you say that those were poorly designed?"

It was true, Error had given a full report on why he hadn't been impressed by anyone else at the showing once he was hired. He was surprised Nightmare's remembered it.

"Those ones had shit design, yes." He confirmed, flicking his wrist so the strings shortened and pulled the arrow closer to his palm. "These ones aren't custom-made. It's your regular everyday arrow with a sleeve that wraps tight to the arrowhead."

He couldn't help himself as he stepped a bit closer to the couch. "The ideal design would be something that stays on when entering the target, but remains in the wound after the arrow is removed." His strings shifted, he used his free hand to point to a band of bright blue wrapped around the center of it. "This version adds barbs to the edges, so as long as it stayed on until it hit the target, it would leave blue magic behind, dug into the wound"

He jostled his hand a bit so the string would allow it to spin a bit. "Of course, this sort of design would only work being made of my magic, but if I made enough tiny sleeves anyone in the guard could have some nasty archery shots."

He was grinning. He always got excited when he got to explain his creations. They were his pride and joy.

"Gods, that's... a little terrifying, kid." Dust said with a weary chuckle.

Error's offense, though, was quickly overridden by a motion from Night.

The King reached a hand out to gently cup under the arrow as it swung to a stop.

"I think it's very clever!" The King said slightly, eyelight plastered on the prototype weapon, "It's far more efficient than training our magic users in blue magic, and would certainly take enemies out with less arrow cost and man-power on our end."

That was exactly it. Error was always relieved when the two of them were on the same page.

"You were right Error, your design is far more impressive than that man's was." Error was less relieved when he recieved a compliment. It always felt jarring and undeserved.

And yet Nightmare always seemed to genuine.

"Of course it's better, my liege." He said, grinning as he retracted his hand. The arrow moving with it. "It hasn't been tested, though, so I'll need to continue working on it before we can be sure." He redirected, trying very hard to hope he hadn't blushed at the kind words.

Nightmare hummed, "Right. I'm sure we can arrange for a few archers to try them out once you're ready." He agreed gently. "Thank you for sharing your design early, Error. It's always a treat."

Ohh. Nightmare why infront of the others??

Error nodded, "I'll let you know when I think I have the perfect version to test." He agreed, before stepping away to let his strings tug him back up into the darkness, along with his newly acquired tea.

The others spoke for a bit longer below, but Error hardly listened. His cheekbones were surely flushed, and his hands shook a bit. He had to reply on pure stubbornness to continue improving on the design and not get caught up in the thoughts of how much he enjoyed Nightmare's company.

He just had to get this right.

#new age au #I like that I never take the time to tag this as anything besides the au name lmao-#anyways. yeah #Error is so funny to me. bro has self worth issues from being told to suppress his magic and make 'useful' things the 'right' way for so #long by adults that now that he has Nightmare who's very very invested in every weapon that would very much be considered a war crime that #he makes? he's learning to balance his pride and his anxiety.#also the others are... worried. often. but Error hasn't killed anyone or exploded the castle yet soooo. they don't have a place to judge #this goofy 15 y/o out here crushing on the king and being a recluse <3 #also I'm hoping I remembered everyone who wanted to be tagged? my memory is so so awful-#okay that's all. y'all have a lovely day! i'm off to go do things!#(Ancha's fic beamed this idea directly into my brain btw. no joke. like a brick thru my window as I'm peacefully trying to read -)

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elkaseltzer · 3 months ago

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"Was Jacques-Louis David in Hell? Could he be commissioned to paint 'The Death of the Radio Demon' in place of Marat?"

maybe he cant BUT I CAN!!!!!!!!!

jk this is a gift not a com

based off of part 8 of We Should've Been Enemies by @soot-and-salt

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reinedeslys-central · 3 months ago

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"I think you should totally get in the back of my truck, actually," Leo says, linking pinkies with Jason. "What's the line? 'I can show you the world'?"

Jason stares down at where their fingers are curled together, peach on olive. He can't stop looking. "You don't have a truck."

Leo groans. "That was one time. I promise this one's legal. See?" He gently untangles their hands and slips behind the blue Chevy, returning with a slip of wrinkled paper that he triumphantly shoves in Jason's face.

LEO, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU BREAK MY CAR WHILE I'M IN IOWA I WILL HAUNT YOU TO THE END OF TIME.

Your loving cousin, Nyssa (P.S. You can take your boy for a ride. I'll allow it. There's blankets in the back (and please help yourself to the glovebox). Don't tell me.)

Jason's eyes travel down the sparkly purple pen, catching on the note at the bottom before flickering back up. There's something that aches in his chest at the words 'your boy'.

He's not sure what expression takes over his face, but Leo, for his part, sees him and immediately ducks his head down so he can read the paper too, frowning. Jason follows his eyes down to the same line as they widen and Leo turns a raging, glorious red before hastily re-crumpling the note and sticking it into one of the many pockets of his cargo pants.

He clears his throat awkwardly while inspecting the dying grass at their feet. It looks like it could be good grass if it ever rains again this month, nice and long and thick.

..Yeah, nevermind.

He takes his glasses off and cleans them in an attempt to - what, exactly? It's not like he's got the object permanence of a toddler. It's not like looking away will stop him from thinking about red-hot blushes and bouncing curls and sharp smiles and -

Leo claps once, calling Jason's attention back up to him and the pretty blush staining his freckled nose. He looks just as awkward, laughing bashfully.

"Well, that's just Nyssa. Uh, she probably wouldn't actually haunt me, she doesn't believe in ghosts - not, I mean, if you do -" his words trip over each other, diverting the original innuendo that was definitely just meant to tease Leo since Jason's never even met her, not to mention he's not his, finally ending with - "but as you can see, it's clearly perfectly legal. So."

Jason raises an eyebrow. "Somehow I doubt that." Leo groans. "Oh, come on, dude, live a little, why dontcha?" He sidles up to him again, draping a warm arm over his shoulders and drawing him over to the car doors. "I know, you know, your dad's in California, your mom's in Paris, and your sister's at a party."

Jason opens his mouth to protest again and -

"- and before you say that you have homework," Leo scoffs, "allow me to remind you that we did our homework together yesterday, and you're already done your math homework for tomorrow, because you're a nerd."

Jason closes his mouth. "It's a school night," he offers weakly.

"Yeah, and every minute you have us waste out here is another minute we're not in the car, ergo another minute we're wasting, on a school night." Leo steps around him and holds his hands out again, eventually latching on to Jason's wrists and tugging him closer so he can peer into his eyes.

Jason may or may not forget how to breathe.

"Are you tired? You don't look tired," Leo frowns. "If you really don't want to go, I won't force you, y'know."

Jason forces his lungs to expand, contract, expand, so he can blurt out, "No, I mean, you got me. I'll go."

Leo grins as bright as the setting sun and twists around, whooping. He not-so-gently pushes Jason towards the car door before jogging over to hop into the driver's seat.

It takes a while, once they're actually on the road and leaving their neighbourhoods behind, that Jason finally goes, "You know, I'm just as concerned with how legal this is as I am with the fact that you still haven't told me where we're going."

Leo glares at him through the mirror. "Hey, if I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise, now would it?"

Jason hates surprises. "For all I know, you just kidnapped me for a surprise road trip to Toronto, and I didn't even pack my toothbrush."

Laughter bubbles out of the boy sitting at the wheel, quickly escalating into a full guffaw. "You're funny," Leo gasps, wiping away tears at a red light. "How did I not notice that you're funny?"

Jason's definitely never been told that he's funny. He might joke, sure, but being 'funny' is reserved for people like Percy, people like Leo or Cecil, who carry humour on them like sugar on a pastry, baked into their laughs and sprinkled over top with how clever they are.

No matter how hard Jason's tried, he's never been very clever.

Leo's still laughing, now more of a soft giggle as he pulls into the left lane to make a turn. He tries not to let it affect him.

"You should joke more often, dude. Bet all the girls would love that."

Jason looks outside at the trees and farms they're passing. Judging by the position of the sun, they're heading pretty much due south. There's nothing down south for them to be doing, though, especially not this late at night.

Skinny dipping, maybe. He wouldn't put it past Leo to suggest something like that and actually go through with it. But dragging him along? They barely know each other. What's a couple months on all the other people he knows?

"You wanna turn the radio on?" Leo says. Jason looks over to see him watching him with an odd smile. "Shotgun's choice, right? Don't worry, I won't judge. Even though I bet you listen to those 24-hour 'nature recordings' for fun and don't know what real music sounds like."

Jason rolls his eyes and plays with the dial until the 106.1 comes on. Leo groans. "Seriously? They keep playing, like, the same six artists over and over. Sure, Top 40's fine, but show a little variety, you know?"

He shrugs. It's like Leo said - he doesn't really know radio stations. His dad - when he deigns to drive the family places - is much more of a silence-of-doom, or failing that, an ominous-car-conversations person. "You put something on, then, if you're so set on it." He replies.

The warm light from the street plays over Leo's knuckles as he switches the wheel to one hand, blindly flailing the other one towards Jason until he hits the box behind the gear shift. "Pick a CD from here, whatever's fine. Eh, maybe not the Chopin or Metallica though. Might shift the vibe a bit too much."

Obligingly, Jason tugs at the black, faux-leather box until it comes open with a muffled thunk. Inside is a stack of CDs, spanning everything from Katy Perry to Vivaldi to Iron Maiden to Monsta X.

"Your cousin's got quite the music taste," he tosses out, rifling through the stack while giving periodic glances out the window to make sure they're not, like, five seconds away from a crash or something.

If there was anything Beryl Grace taught her kids, it was how to be a responsible passenger.

Almost on autopilot, Jason digs the pink-purple Teenage Dream CD out of the pile and then has to hastily shove the polaroids that spill out from underneath it back between the surrounding paper disc-sleeves (Mamma Mia!, he sees, and ..Heng:garæ? Whatever that means). That can't be safe for the discs, especially in a moving card, but then again who is he to judge. He doesn't even own any CDs.

They've fully left the town behind now, sailing down the open road with nothing but trees, farms, and the occasional streetlight in sight. He leans over and pops the disc into the CD drive, wondering again for the hundredth time where Leo's taking him.

Leo rolls to a stop at a four-way and watches him skip over the first two songs. "Whadya choose?"

Jason smiles. "Is now a good time to tell you I was born in Pasadena?"

The open bars of 'California Gurls' start to play, and Leo's warm, penny-brown eyes widen before he laughs, bright and a touch wild, incredulous.

It's weird. It's so weird. Maybe this is what his father meant when he said not to get any weird ideas in his head so close to finally reaching the decade-long goal of an Ivy League school. Maybe this is what his mother meant when she'd chastised him, saying hormonal teenagers got more impulsive with puberty and he should take care to keep listening to his parents, lest he lose everything he's worked so hard for.

If anyone else had tried this, he thinks, he wouldn't have said yes. He would have stayed at home, studied ahead for bond enthalpy and subjunctive Spanish, made tomorrow's lunch and cleaned his room. Adhering to routine. Acting - being normal.

You have to be normal, Jason. That's how they love you.

I will not tolerate an abnormal son.

Oh, Jason, it's like you just don't understand. What will people say? About you? About our family?

Leo isn't normal. Or maybe he is. Normal doesn't exist, when he's with Leo. He likes that about him.

He takes a risk and rolls the window down halfway so he can lean his head out and watch the sky, crisp wind tousling his hair. Leo smirks at him and switches the wheel to his right hand so he can roll his window down to match.

"Ten minutes," he says. "Look alive, buddy."

"There must be something in the water", Katy Perry croons.

also from 'burning like a glowing star', this valgrace fic I'm writing.

more stuff: Writing Directory

#so here's the thing: Jason is an UNRELIABLE NARRATOR #welcome to my subpar writing everyone #yeah no I don't like this either #gah it's really true what they say about stagnant writing backflow isn't it #writing #my writing #valgrace fic #valgrace #burning like a glowing star #sooo for anyone ACTUALLY reading the tags #this is a senior year first-meeting fic that kinda has right-person-wrong-time vibes to it #I'm still not sure of the plotline and where it'll go so if there's smth you really want to see lmk!#heads up: there will be no jealousy arcs or unrequited love plotlines. this isn't that kind of right-person-wrong-time lol #leo's in a band and jason plays varsity soccer #....piper quits the cheer team she's been discovering herself (she's gonna join model UN and own everyone)#cut line: Not that Jason's a misogynist (comma) but he also sincerely doesn't give a shit about what girls think of him right now.#I need tp reuse that at some point so I'm leaving it there for now #oh hey this is pretty long #i got carried away #get you a ship that makes you smile while writing it #leo valdez #jason grace #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus fanfic

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zerimagi · 9 months ago

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'"Mist." The calming, rumbling voice belongs to Mordecai — Mist turns her head and finds him sitting not far away, watching the match. He pats the ground next to him. "Will you sit and watch?"'

my piece for @telliusbigbang! please check out rk's fic its an absolute delight for the mist/jillmist enthusiasts :3

#my art #jillmist #tellius #radiant dawn #fe10 #everyone go read rk's fic RIGHT NOW

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spoonsbutbetter · 6 months ago

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Chapters: 2/6 Fandom: Bridgerton (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Eloise Bridgerton/Cressida Cowper Characters: Cressida Cowper, Eloise Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Bridgerton Family (Bridgerton) Additional Tags: WOMEN!!, i love when girl best friends kiss and love each other, Girls Kissing, women love women and that's all i'll say on the matter, this might become plotless, 5+1 Things, Lesbian Cressida Cowper, demisexual eloise bridgerton, biromantic eloise bridgerton Summary:

Eloise loves calling on Cressida as a friendly joke, but there is always some sort of honesty in every joke, and sometimes it takes a little bit to realize where the truth lies.

(Or Five Times Eloise Calls on Cressida and They Realize Something New About Each Other + 1 Time Eloise Calls On Her For Real)

I was absolutely in a chokehold over Eloise and Cressida using courting language for each other and I created this

Disclaimer: this will definitely NOT follow canon, I just want these guys to kiss a bunch lol (I want them to kiss a bunch because I am projecting me and my girlfriend onto them lowkey)

#bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #eloise x cressida #cressida cowper #lesbian #wlw #sapphic #sapphic ship #I LOVE WOMEN #i love when women kiss #god's greatest gift is this queer ship right now #queer #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #sorry for being annoying with this #im just going insane and i want everyone and their mom to read my gay little fic

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idealess-at-this · 2 months ago

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I have just read @hearteye-emoji ‘s fic tripping into trouble, and y’all.. The way I am so invested and it single-handedly made Papercut my favourite duo. Ty for feeding my obsession tenfold 🙏

If you have already caught up with that one, might I suggest you check out Tulsa’s (Not So Super) Hero by way_too_many_fandoms on Ao3!! It’s sorta the opposite scenario, Ponyboy is Spiderman but still has to hide it from the gang! (25.6k words, PB&J)

#i am foaming at the mouth #genuinely everyone go read it right now #fic rec #the outsiders #purly #ponycakes

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samspenandsword · 1 year ago

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Midnight: Boba Fett/Reader (fem)

Summary: You decide to be a brat. Boba decides to handle you a little differently than normal. Pairing: Boba Fett/Reader; fem!reader with no mentions of her appearance (reader has hair long enough to grab). Rating: Explicit, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE!) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut; unprotected PIV sex (PRACTICE SAFE SEX), fingering, dom/sub dynamics (brat tamer!Boba, brat!reader), implied age gap, Boba's a bit of a meanie, also he's slightly possessive and toxic, mentions of oral sex, hint of anal play, overstimulation, forced orgasms, cum play, degradation kink, praise kink, bit of a pain kink, hickies, icky mushy-gushiness at the very end, language. Word Count: 4.0k

I had to open my big, bratty mouth, you thought.

Or, at least, you would've thought had you actually been capable of any thought beyond the thick fingers currently buried in that greedy little hole you called a pussy.

He'd been tormenting you for what felt like hours now, massaging your walls with warmth and tenderness belying the dirty words coming from his mouth. He'd called this a punishment. A lesson. One he was going to make sure you never forgot. You hadn't believed him, firing back with a bratty little snip that had simply made him smile. A smile of amusement, coupled with a casual, rumbling chuckle. It had made you a little unsure, but not to the point of backing down. You never backed down unless he made you.

And oh, he was good at making you.

He loved wrestling the submission out of you. Bringing forth the needy, whining, begging mess of a woman you became when he got his hands on you. There were nights he didn't need to fight for it. Nights where the two of you simply enjoyed each other's company and the warmth of your relationship.

But some nights, like tonight, got you in a certain type of mood. A demanding, defiant mood that got his blood racing as much as it did yours. A mood that conveyed the need to play, to fight, to be taught and forced to learn your place.

He was happy to remind you.

Happy to remind you why he was the only one you trusted to bring you this sort of pleasure. Usually, it came in the form of edging you until you were literally crying for release. In the form of you bent double over his throne, his cock buried in your pussy and pounding away with little regard for your own pleasure. In the form of pushing your head down on his length until it was pulsing in your throat and spit spilled past your lips and your jaw ached. In the form of leaving bruises that matched the plates of his armor. In the form of wrecking you, ruining you for anyone but him.

And you loved it. Reveled in it.

So when Boba had responded to your brattiness with a simple smile and chuckle, it threw you. You recovered quickly, however. You refused to let your sudden nerves show. Instead, you'd lifted your chin, eyebrows raised into a challenge, and arms crossed under your breasts, pushing them up ever-so-slightly. Just enough to tease him.

It had simply earned you another chuckle, him seeing right through you.

You'd scoffed in response.

"Might as well get myself off, the pace you're going."

Boba had raised his eyebrows, eyes shining with humor.

"Princess, don't give me any ideas."

You'd scoffed again.

"Yeah, well, let me know when you decide. I'll have gotten myself off three times by that time, I'm sure. The time you're taking, you might be ready by midnight, old man."

There it was. His eyes lit up and took on a certain light. A twinkle that indicated Boba had taken something you'd said as a personal challenge. A twinkle that was accompanied by a dangerous cock of his eyebrow and a smirk on his lips.

The look set fire to your veins.

"Only three times?"

Your heart and pussy had jumped. It took all you had to not clench your thighs. Instead, you had yawned, making a show of checking the chrono on your bedside table.

Boba had chuckled again.

"You really haven't shown me you deserve to get off tonight, princess. I'm feeling inclined to punish you. But I think this is a good time to reteach you something. Something you've evidently forgotten. So consider this a punishment, and a lesson. And I expect you to tell me what you learned when we're through."

His hand had gone to your thigh, and he'd chuckled more darkly than before at the way you jumped at his touch. Your entire body was lit alight with it, just as always. Just like it always would. No one had ever ignited you with a single, small touch alone the way Boba could. But his hand on your thigh was also your last warning. A chance to call this off before it got started.

Anything beyond this, you knew the safeword.

There was a pause, his hand resting on your thigh, calloused fingers softly stroking the skin there. You'd met his eyes, and gave a third scoff.

Now, here you were. And though you'd originally scoffed at the idea of Boba's so-called "punishment," especially because it hadn't been in the style of his usual punishments, you now found yourself prone on your bed, your fourth orgasm rippling out of you, making your entire body shake and tremble, and you were starting to think you'd maybe bitten off more than you could chew.

Maybe.

The sheets beneath you were soaked, and your skin was tacky with sweat and cum. Your toes were beginning to cramp from how hard they'd curled with this last climax, and it wasn't even on your radar. There was nothing on your radar other than Boba's fingers in your cunt, making you feel both stuffed to the brim, and empty because fuck, it wasn't his cock!

Nothing was like his cock.

"Good job," Boba said, practically whispered. He had you reclined back against his broad, warm chest, letting you tuck your face and sob into his neck each time you came. You felt Boba's breath wash over your skin. and his lips brush against your crown. "There you go, princess."

You gasped, chest heaving as you came down, body trembling still. You whimpered a little as Boba continued to massage your walls, his fingers no longer pumping, but now crooking inside you.

"Just had to provoke me," he continued, breath warm against your cheek. He leaned down to kiss it. "Bratty little princess just wanted some attention. Wanted to get a reaction out of me. Wanted me to fuck you like the greedy little whore you are."

"M'not greedy!" you mustered, raising your head up to scowl petulantly at him.

Boba laughed a little at this, his free hand reaching up to smooth back the hair sweat-slicked to your forehead.

"Oh, really? Then why have you just cum on my fingers four times?"

Your scowl morphed into a pout, the expression promptly ruined as he rubbed the most sensitive spot inside you, a place he had yet to touch you tonight. It was both a mindless and intentional move and you involuntarily clenched and gushed around him. It made his smug grin broaden. He looked younger when he smiled like that.

"Not my — my fault! You have 'em t'me!"

Boba's expression fell into a wicked smirk. "There it is," he rasped. His fingers began to pump again, slowly. "Now, tell me what you learned, princess."

You knew the answer he was looking for. You decided not to give it to him.

"T-to provoke you when I w-want a series of m-mediocre orgasms."

Boba's fingers paused for just a second with genuine shock, then started up again, harsher than before.

"Mmm." The way he looked down at you now was positively dangerous. The set of his brows with concentration coupled with the serious line of his mouth. Boba pressed his forehead to yours as he abruptly shoved a third finger into your cunt, making you squeal and arch. The press of his forehead to yours however was unforgiving, and with it and his dark gaze pinning you in place, you found yourself helpless to do anything but lie there and take it as he shoved his fingers into your cunt at a brutal pace.

"And I'm going to give you another one," Boba said. Your body shivered with overstimulation as much as it did at the dark tone in his voice. It promised something. Promised you weren't ever going to forget this. "You know why, princess?"

You weren't able to answer anymore, your voice reduced to a pathetic whine as his thick fingers jerked harshly in and out of you, rubbing over your g-spot with every furious pass. The sound of his fingers in your cunt was positively obscene, and honestly you couldn't tell where your mewls began and the high-pitched squelching of your pussy ended.

Boba smiled darkly down at you, his little fucked out princess, and chuckled darkly to accompany the grin. He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours again, forcing your gaze to his unforgivingly. He could see you trying so hard to maintain eye contact, like you knew he liked. But you could barely keep your eyes open as he shoved his fingers in you and simultaneously shoved you toward another orgasm. You were so cute when you got like this, with tears of overstimulation pricking in your eyes, your hair messy from his hands and your sweat, your body heaving with every touch he gave you, your nipples so pert they were just begging to be bitten, your thighs trembling and toes curled, his hand literally soaked with your juices.

Boba wanted to see you like this every single day. And Maker knew this sight was for him only.

Anyone else came near you, he'd kill them.

"You know why, princess," he repeated. This time, it wasn't phrased as a question, but as a dark little reassurance. Because he knew, and so did you, that he was the only one capable of giving you this sort of pleasure. Of reducing you to this whining, mewling mess. Of wrangling you into submission in the way you loved. In the way he loved to.

It was him. Only him.

And Maker, he knew it.

So did you. And while part of you wanted to hold out longer, continue to shake your head and stomp your feet and pout your bitten lips, you could barely take it anymore. Your mind felt as fucked out as your body. Your pussy lips were swollen around Boba's fingers, and your thighs felt like jelly. The tightening in your gut was near-painful, and the brutal pumping of his fingers was hurtling you towards another edge. You fell off of it faster than you expected. You hadn't even realized how close you were, but you felt your body suddenly seize and arch as Boba unceremoniously tossed you off a fifth cliff.

You were crying, tears falling down your flushed cheeks as your body shook. And right as your pussy began to clamp down like a vice, Boba ripped his fingers from you, leaving your pussy agonizingly empty and fluttering around nothing.

And for someone who'd cum five times, you were singularly frustrated with that.

But your mind could hardly string together two words that weren't "Boba" and "more," let alone the ability to convey that. But nevertheless, Boba seemed to know, cooing down at you as you came down. Stroking your skin soothingly with soaked fingers, trailing your own arousal from your naval to your nipples.

You whined more when he pressed down on one just enough for you to notice.

"You know why, princess." It was said a third time, a smug reassurance this time.

You nodded almost mindlessly, and Boba's hand came up to cradle your throat. There was no pressure in his grip, but it still made your breath hitch. He chuckled again. Five orgasms and his little brat still couldn't get enough.

Maker, you were perfect.

Boba leaned down and kissed your cheek, sweetly.

You were doing so well. And despite your bratty attitude, you were spoiling him rotten, giving him five beautiful climaxes. Trusting him in this way. Letting him give you more.

And he would. He knew you. You would take whatever he gave you.

You always did.

"What have we learned, princess?" Boba rumbled, kissing your ear as his voice made you shiver.

He could see you struggling to string words together, your fucked out little mind scrambling to obey him. It humored him, seeing you try, cause he knew just how much he affected you.

"Use your words," he murmured, half-encouragingly, half-demeaningly.

You didn't even pout you were so focused on obeying him. Boba quietly hummed with amusement, seeing your mouth open. You didn't say anything right away, and the sight of you with your mouth open like that brought forth images of his cock on your tongue.

Boba shook the images away. Later, if you started behaving.

"Boba," you managed to get out, gasping around his name like it was the only word you knew. And indeed, right now, you felt as if his name were just dominating your every thought. Boba always just dominated your mind, your senses, your everything. He was everything.

"Yes, princess?" He wasn't budging, forcing you to continue scrambling for words in your post-orgasmic and overstimulated haze. His lips were curled with amusement as he watched you struggle. You would've scowled petulantly at him if you had the energy for it.

As it were, the only thing you wanted to do at that moment, was ask for more.

So you did.

You reached up, arm hooking over his shoulder and face turning back into his neck. He let you, the hand cupping your throat now stroking along your collar. His fingers were sticky still with your cum.

"Boba, more."

"More?" He chuckled out. "You've cum five times and it's still not enough for you?"

Your breath was still heavy as you came down from said five orgasms. And your entire body was tingling and numb and exhausted, and yet, it wasn't enough. Because —

"Never enough," you mumbled into his skin. "N'ver enough with you, Boba."

Inside him, Boba felt his heart warm at your fucked-out, but achingly honest words. And the sentiment was wholeheartedly returned. But on the outside, all he did was smirk down at you, gently fisting his hand in the hair at your nape and forcing your face from his neck. He looked down at you, stare pinning you in place.

"And why is that, little one?"

Your mind worked to find a way around this. But honestly, you couldn't. With his heavy stare and just-as-heavy hand keeping you in place, eyes locked on his, there was nowhere left to hide. No bratty little quip your mind could conjure. Nothing but Boba.

And well, he was everything.

"Cause... cause no one makes me feel like you, Boba. Makes me cum like you."

And there it was. The lesson Boba had been trying to finger into you for the last... however long it had been. You weren't sure. But as soon as the words had left your mouth, Boba smiled at you, condescendingly proud.

"That's right," he said, smug. You'd be mad about it if you had the wherewithal to be anything but unspeakably fucked out. "No one can fuck you like this, princess. No one. No one can make your legs shake when he eats you. No one else can stuff that bratty little mouth the way I can. No one else has claimed this ass." Boba's free hand suddenly snaked past your puffy and sticky pussy lips, touching firmly to the ringed muscle of your second hole. It made you jerk in his grasp, and he chuckled darkly once more. "No one else can make you cum from simply sucking cock. No one else has fucked this little pussy and molded it to their cock. Just me, princess. You're ruined. Ruined for anyone else. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

As if you could. You knew you were ruined. And Maker, you were so happy about it. Boba was all you wanted. All you would ever want.

And his filthy words, and the knowledge that he wanted you too was almost enough to make you cum again.

"Think you're ready for my cock now, princess," Boba rumbled flippantly. As if you weren't always ready for his cock. He slipped out from beside you, making you wine at the loss of contact. But Boba hushed you amusedly, hand trailing down your side to your thigh. He hooked his hand behind it, spreading you as he kneeled over you.

His cock, girthy and big enough to make you gasp even with prep, looked painfully hard. Boba had been ignoring it as best he could, but even he was reaching his limit. Precum beaded at the tip, and he smeared it onto your clit teasingly. You mewled cutely beneath him.

"Doing so well for me," Boba murmured. His eyes lightened with genuine affection. A light you rarely saw anywhere but during your time together. It made your own haze clear, and you knew he was checking in with you. He said your name. "Ready for me?"

You smiled, wiggling your hips against his cock and hooking your thigh over his hip.

"Ready," you confirmed. Boba smiled, big and bright. It made him look so much younger when he smiled that way. He dipped down, and just as he kissed you, he thrust forward, impaling you on his cock.

Boba swallowed your gasp with a small laugh, kissing you breathless. He wanted a moment, letting your body adjust. But Boba needed a minute, too. As much as he said he'd ruined you for anyone else, you'd ruined him just as thoroughly. He was dangerously close to the edge even without the preceding scene. You always made him lose his composure, made him feel like a young man again. Like he'd blow in his pants just by watching your hips sway as you walked away.

Boba grasped those hips, yanking you down the rest of the way onto his cock when he felt you relax. It made you squeal and giggle, and he chuckled into the skin of your collar before taking it between his teeth.

You gasped and clenched around him.

"Boba," you moaned.

"Patience, princess."

You were trying, honest, but you didn't exactly have much patience when it came to him.

But if you hadn't forced yourself to still, Boba's hands would. But you tried to relax your hips and core, letting yourself sink a little further into the mattress and sheets.

As soon as you did, Boba began to move, punching the breath right out of you with every thrust. The mattress was the only thing keeping you grounded as Boba, in the way only he could, fucked you within an inch of your life.

Boba's lips curled and teeth clenched with the effort of keeping himself from exploding right then and there. Your expression was going to be the end of him if your cunt wasn't. With those hooded, glazed eyes and half-open mouth, flushed cheeks, just-had-mind-blowing-sex hair, arched neck leading all the way down to a pair of glorious, heaving tits. There was a bead of sweat rolling down in the valley between them, and Boba couldn't help but lean over and lick it up.

You scrabbled for purchase of his broad shoulders as Boba leaned down and began to bite and suck on your nipples. Boba was a self-declared ass and thighs man, but Maker when he paid attention to your tits he could be just as thorough and appreciative. You couldn't help but arch up into him, pressing your breasts further into his mouth. He chuckled around your nipple before switching to the other. And all the while, he never stopped thrusting, cock practically molding your pussy to its shape.

After a few more thrusts, you could barely string a thought together anymore, and all that came out of you were little moans and whines as Boba fucked you. Your thigh fell from his hip as your body was wracked with overstimulated bliss, your body hardly able to keep up with all it had endured. Your hands gripped at his back, nails digging in and making Boba grunt with pleasure. He loved when you left your mark on him.

Almost as much as he loved leaving his mark on you.

Boba's mouth shifted to your collar, where his teeth and lips left red marks that would bloom purple by morning. You gasped with each new one. You grew closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling to keep up.

"B-Boba..." you breathed as your core tightened, painfully.

"Come on, princess. Give me one more."

You weren't sure you could, tears pricking in your eyes as your raw cunt fluttered and pulled.

Boba suddenly ripped out of you and before you realized it, you were flipped onto your front and Boba was back inside you, pumping so hard and fast you could feel him in your throat.

"Go on," he said, voice tight with his own restraint. You managed to clench around him, making him hiss. "One more. Give me one more."

Your cries of pleasure, pain, and overstimulation were surely bouncing off the walls, but all you could hear was Boba, and the way his cock forced your juices out to make room for itself. It was positively obscene.

And only helped bring you closer and closer.

Boba leaned forward, chest touching your back, the new angle devastating your cunt. You cried out, it turning into a strangled gasp as his hand came around once more to cup your throat.

"Cum."

You did.

Your orgasm ripped through you so hard your vision went white. You would register your sore throat later, sore from screaming out with pleasure. Your entire body seized with your climax, shaking and pussy fluttering so hard it was practically vibrating around Boba's cock, squeezing and squeezing down until Boba could barely move anymore. And with a yell, he came too.

You didn't realize you'd nearly passed out until you registered Boba saying your name, a soft, warm, damp towel being pressed to your skin.

"You did so well, princess." Boba dropped a kiss to your temple before climbing back into bed with you. You rolled into him, soaking up the warmth of him and appreciating the warmth of his release inside you. It began to glob out, smearing and combining with your own release, all over your thighs.

You pressed them together as you cuddled into him, reaching up to stroke your hand down Boba's neck.

"Tell me how you're feeling," Boba requested.

"Tired," came your automatic answer. Your voice was heavy and slightly hoarse with it. "Boneless. Fucked out."

The last two worked a quiet laugh from Boba.

"But good," you finished. You smiled up at him. "So good."

Boba smiled, achingly soft, and kissed you. "Ready for a bath?"

"Yes, please. And you better carry me, mister, I'm not going to be able to walk for days."

He smirked down at you. "You asked for it."

You giggled.

Boba helped you sit up. His eyes flicked over to the nightstand and his smirk widened.

"What?" you asked.

"It's midnight."

You slowly looked at the chrono, the red numbers indeed reading exactly midnight. And your earlier words rang in your mind.

Yeah, well, let me know when you decide. I'll have gotten myself off three times by that time, I'm sure. The time you're taking, you might be ready by midnight, old man.

"Three times by midnight, I believe you said." Boba carefully scooped you up, smiling way too smugly for comfort. "Pathetic."

You scowled playfully at him, cheeks flushing hot.

Seven. He'd made you cum seven fucking times.

"Don't let this go to your head, old man." You settled into his chest. "Your helmet won't fit."

He pinched you lightly as he set you down on the edge of the tub. You giggled as he began to run the bath, and his stern look might've been effective had his eyes not been twinkling.

"Spoiled little brat," he said, with nothing but fondness.

You preened and gave him a little tongue-in-teeth smile.

"You love it."

Boba laughed, and again, you couldn't help but admire his smile. How it instantly made him look younger. Not as burdened. Happier.

Boba helped ease you into the warm water before climbing in behind you. As he leaned you back on his chest, he whispered in your ear.

"I love you."

You sighed, happily.

"I love you, too, Boba."

And it was only because you loved him so much that you didn't punch him the next morning when you found that you were, indeed, having trouble walking.

Taglist and some known Boba hoes (just lmk if you want me to remove you): @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @thefact0rygirl @daimyosprincess @wild-karrde @ulchabhangorm @baba-fett @starstofillmydream @theroguesully @redheadgirl @nekotaetae @liadamerondjarin @urmomsmattress @ttzamara @cdblake1565 @blueink-bluesoul @marierg @banthasworld @sunshinesdaydream @kimiheartblade

Join my taglist here or just let me know!

#star wars #the book of boba fett #tbobf #boba fett #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett x y/n #also this piece is vvvv inspired by Ex Libris everyone go read it right now #fem reader #fem!reader #f!reader #reader pairing #reader fic #nsft

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