#J. writes: requests | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

surielstea · 8 months ago

Text

Tattoos older than you

Based off that Tik Tok trend: “I have tattoos older than you.” because age gap is everyone’s favorite trope, let’s be honest.

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Warnings: Age gap | suggestive | cute fluffiness

1.2k words

I peek my head through the door of a familiar Shadow Singers bedroom with a mischievous grin. "Love, not tonight," The male warns from his desk, giving me a pointed look. I enter anyway, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

He sighs in faux disappointment as I approach him, footsteps padding on his carpet as shadows swarm me, curling around my ankles, up my arms, into my hair. "They love me," I beam, looking at the dark tendrils.

“They do,” He nods in heavy agreement, as if they never shut up about that fact.

"And so do you," I redirect my attention to the winged male in front of me.

"Do I?" He tilts his head tauntingly and as my reply I straddle over his lap, mounting his hips with a knowing smile. "I think I'm too old, forgot how to love," He shrugs.

"Az you're not that old," I groan.

"I'm twenty-three times your age," He argues, and my amused grin returns.

"You did the math," I tease, leaning closer to him, and pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

"Of course I did, I can't get you out of my head," He grumbles as if it's my fault he's always thinking of me.

"Then why can't you admit that you're in love with me?" I cup his face in my hands, tilting his head and forcing him to look into my eyes.

"I do love you, and that's why I refuse to subject you to the judgment that us being together will bring you," He denies and my smile falters.

"I don't care about the judgment, I just want you," I confess, dragging a hand through his hair. "C'mon, Az," I huff, arching my back so my chest is pressed to his as I tease his lips with my own. His large hands come to my waist, his touch is tender and for a moment I think he'll give in, but instead, his grip tightens and he lifts me off his lap, placing my feet down onto the ground.

"No, the difference is too much," He rejects and I groan dramatically. The Illyrian stands, looking down at me with lowered brows. His height towers over me and his wings only add to the intimidating factor. Such an animalistic thing to do, making himself appear bigger than he truly is. He was trying to scare me off, and it wasn't going to work.

"You're fae, does age really matter as an immortal?" I take a daunting step forward and he mirrors it with a step back.

"When I'm old enough to be your great, great, great grandfather? Yes," He argues and I roll my eyes, such a stupid analogy.

"But you're not," I take another step forward.

"But I could be," He doesn't pace back.

"But, you're not," I repeat with another stride and suddenly I'm directly in front of him, chest to chest. He looks at me, his eyes swirling with both adoration and regret, adoration because he loves me, and regret because he allowed me to love him back. I stare with the most devoting and comforting gaze I can muster, I don't dare break eye contact, making it clear that my stance on the matter won't sway.

"I have tattoos older than you, love," He drags his hand through his hair, and I know in that movement that he's been defeated.

"Oh, I know," I bring my hand up to his neck, my nail tracing over dark ink that's lived there for centuries.

"You're like a friend to—" He tries but I cut him off, "That's bullshit, I could treat you better than all your previous lovers and you know it," I claim and he looks at me with those same hazel eyes I fell in love with.

He sighs, clearly upset because he's horribly losing this argument.

"Your five-hundred-year-old brothers are dating my twenty-year-old sisters. They can't judge and isn't it their opinion that matters most?" I point out and he slowly closes his eyes, needing a moment to think about the situation.

"They're mates," He attempts to explain but I don't buy it for a moment, I sling my arms around the nape of his neck with a troublesome smile.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't feel a connection between us?" I ask and he only stares down at me, knowing that if he spoke all of his truest intentions would come out.

"We're in love, let yourself be happy," I whisper, we're close enough so he can hear me. I lift onto my toes, our noses brushing and he doesn't have it in himself to back away. "Let me help you be happy," I murmur and his brows crease, in conflict with himself and everything else going against this, but I could tell by that look on his face that he wanted every part of this too.

"Do you know how helpless you make me feel?" He rasps and my smile widens.

"That's called love, Az," I explain.

"Is it always so consuming?" He asked, his voice tender and raw. My heart swells against my rib cage and I tilt my head, nose moving past his as I press a gentle kiss onto his lips then pull away as quick as I came.

“Yes,” I whisper, knowing the exact feeling he was describing. “And it’s not going to go away,” I smile softly. "Because you love me," I mumble, mostly to myself, the new confession will be at the front of my brain for the rest of the week.

"A little too much for my liking," He hums.

"Impossible," I shake my head with a grin and he leans in, pressing a hard kiss to my forehead, then one on the tip of my nose, and finally plants one to my lips. I pull him closer, my chest pressing to his as I smile onto his lips, my fingers twining into the back of his hair.

“I do love you,” He whispers against my skin as he begins to peck down the line of my jaw.

“I know,” I tease, dragging my hand from his hair and down the expanse of his tattooed neck. He pulls back only a fraction, narrowing his brows with a glare and I giggle.

“I love you too, Azzie,” I roll my eyes, pressing a tender kiss to his lips which he barely got the chance to reciprocate before I was pulling away.

“I hate it when you call me that,” He huffs.

“Would you rather I call you my great-grandfather?” I smirk and he playfully pushes me away, and I dramatically fall down onto his bed.

“I’m revoking sex tonight for that,” He warned and I smirked.

“Not even for the rest of the week? You must really love me,” I croon and he tosses me a glare before climbing into bed beside me.

“An unfortunate turn of events,” He sighed while slinging his arm around me and pulling me into him, as if it was torturous to be cuddling with me even though it was him pulling me closer.

I sling my leg over his waist and roll over, straddling his hips.

“I can’t believe you ever thought you could reject me,” I scoff and he looks up at me with a knowing expression.

“Shh, sleep now.” He pulls me down onto his chest, my chin propping up on his sternum to stare up at him. “You can tease me all you want in the morning,” He promises as I stretch out, my legs intertwining with his.

“Sounds like a perfect plan.”

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @secretlyhers @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @mahealanipunea @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @andreperez11 @nerdy4itall @whatsupbi8

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp @nyxbranwenn @dnfhascorruptedme @summerandsalt @annamariereads16

1K notes · View notes

mellohiizz · 4 months ago

Note

mel mellohiizz............ can i beg for uu!parrot and uu!clownpierce art

i love the parallels between them, it's so fun to think about

#☆ request .#☆ my art .#unstable universe #parrotx2 #clownpierce #also yes its lyrics from scylla from epic the musical #rewatched some parts of the episode recently #and i find the parallels and comparison very fun because i personally think they were both right #they are the same but they also aren't at the same time #it's a little complicated #parrot is just less unhinged and doesn't kill people #(yet /j)#i can do so much character study if someone kicks me to write again #would you guys think im insane if i start dropping character analysis posts?#idk if i will but that used to be another thing i really enjoyed doing #i used to write fanfiction too but i have not written anything in like two years i think #okay im done yapping

249 notes · View notes

joshfutturman · 1 year ago

Text

"you have me, you always have"

oneshot (request) - you and clapton have been in a 'will they won't they' type relationship for years, you're best friends - but is that all you want? (2.3k words) pairing - clapton davis (detention) + reader (gender neutral) tags: making out / kissing, moans (oops :3), feelings realisation, will they won't they, suggestive scenes, no use of y/n, vague alcohol mention, cursing

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

clapton. davis. what could you say about clapton davis? you had been best friends for as long as you could remember. it was always just easy with him. you never had to try too hard or try to be funny - he just got you, and you got him.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

notes: this was SO much fun!!! thank you so so much for the request @rhilove1234 ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵◌₎♡ - you're officially the first request of this account! i hope this was alright for you ٩( ´◡` )

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

it was actually kind of poetically perfect that you two had applied to the same college together and had been accepted, a miracle too. clapton had the lowest gpa you'd ever heard of, but with his interest in music and the passion he clearly had for the history behind it - the college took kindly to that. you wondered if he offered to create a mix-tape for the assessors. there must have been some sort of bribe involved.

there was a time when he'd told you of his fear of the future, how he'd rather stay in the present. you remember this moment vividly, the two of you sat on your front lawn, stars sprawling above you as the world grew quiet. clapton nervously fidgeted with a blade of grass and you watched on. "the present is good, what's so wrong with wanting to stay here?" he spoke quietly, as though he knew that he didn't really believe what he was saying.

"well, yeah, the present is pretty cool," you smiled, nudging his shoulder with yours - this earned a smile from him, "but. . . don't you wanna see what's out there? who's out there?"

his eyes perked up from the blade of grass and settled on you for a few moments before darting across the street. his smile turned softer, shyer. clapton had all he wanted, right here.

the journey towards the college would take a couple of hours and clapton offered to give you a ride. your hands shook as you packed your belongings into his trunk. he watched from the side, eyebrows furrowing as he bit the inside of his cheek. once you were both settled into the small red car, clapton set off. but not before he reached his hand over, giving yours a reassuring squeeze.

he didn't let go for the entire journey.

the dorm room was pretty much what you were expecting, cramped, but decent. your roommate, damon, offered a smile to both of you as clapton helped you inside with your luggage. with a warm, tight hug and a small cheeky kiss on the cheek that you laughed off and so did he, clapton left. not before he sheepishly eyed your roommate, though. they exchanged a look, and it made your eyebrow raise as you gingerly rubbed the skin where his lips had been.

as soon as that door closed, damon piped up. "your boyfriend?"

a laugh erupted from you. clapton? your boyfriend? you hadn't even kissed, how could you possibly be dating? was it the kiss on the cheek? that doesn't count. you were best friends. there were no feelings there. clapton davis? dating? never. that damn skateboard had his heart. yeah. it wasn't like you had feelings for him that were bubbling below the surface, threatening to escape after every interaction. it's not like you wanted to ask him if this was something more. and it definitely wasn't like you had thought about pushing him against the lockers every day and kissing him like time was running out, or that you imagined him taking his hand in yours, for real - nah.

best friends. that's all it was.

but that comment remained firmly in your mind. it had been a few weeks and you couldn't shake it. was this really something more? could it be, even?

clapton was the kind of guy who could win anyone around, practically everyone he had ever met had fallen in love with him in some capacity. sure, he could be an ass when it came to his music opinions and that adorable sting fixation could be grating - but not to you. it was exactly that, adorable. he was like this with everyone, right?

even in class, you found it hard to focus. he'd insist on sitting behind you or beside you so he could pester you. in this particular lecture, he was behind. clapton leans back, swinging in his chair as he eyes the back of your head, caught in a daydream.

he sighs, deeply. clapton often looked at you like this when you weren't looking. he would desperately try to think of something to say to make you laugh, to catch your attention, to have your eyes fall on him even just for a little while. he flips open his little black notebook and peers at the bullet-pointed contents. 'say something funny, say something witty, wear their favourite colour, tell them you like them.' he hastily shut the book.

leaning over, his fingers brush your hair behind your ear. you immediately felt goosebumps spread across your neck and a tingle ran down your spine like lightning. a blush burned deep in your cheeks. "do. . . you got a pen i could borrow?" clapton whispered, his breath hot on your skin.

with a hard swallow, you passed a pen backwards and offered him a quick smile before looking straight ahead again, gritting your teeth to firmly push those thoughts from your head.

best. friends. that's all it was.

these thoughts led to you avoiding him, avoiding one on one time. it was better to stay in a group when you were with him, or was it? damon wasn't the last person to ask if you guys were dating. and you saw clapton's face when he was asked, the laugh he gave people - clearly he thought it was a joke too.

it was fine, it was going to be fine. one of your classmates had invited you to a house party that night, this would surely take your mind off things. you'd get some space, more space from clapton and maybe you'd find someone new. maybe he'd find someone new.

your stomach churned at the thought.

walking inside, you relished the sound of conversation from all sides. there wasn't any space to listen to your thoughts in here and that's exactly the kind of escape you wanted. shoulders rising and falling with a sigh of relief, you find the kitchen. a drink in hand and you definitely feel more relaxed. yeah, things were going to work out. things were-

clapton.

your eyes fixate on him from across the room. he's on the sofa, surrounded by people. they're chatting to him like he's the most interesting guy in the world. you notice when he laughs, they do too. they're hanging on his every word and they love it. they're too far away for you to make out their conversation, but you can tell that clapton is enjoying telling the story. he always did like attention - and not in a conceited way, he just naturally attracted people.

and then, his eyes met yours.

eyes widening, you look away and down the rest of your drink. a few seconds later, you started to leave the kitchen area to retreat towards the cramped hallway. clapton called out to you, telling you to wait, to 'come join him'. you didn't listen, but if you'd stayed a few seconds longer, you might have heard that the story he had enjoyed telling so much was about you and him.

in the hallway, you gathered yourself and ran your fingers through your hair. it wasn't long before you heard clapton approaching too, though, and you let out a soft grunt of frustration. "trouble in paradise?" someone muttered and you shot them an icy glare. the door to the backyard ahead, you left and slammed it behind you.

the cold atmosphere hit you and your cheeks were hotter than you realised. it felt as though you could actually breathe in the night air. but when you heard the door handle turn and clapton exit, you felt just as tense again.

"what the hell is going on with you?" he speaks in a firm but confused tone, there was a hint of hurt in there. the brunette approached you from behind and stopped just shy of you. "you've been acting weird for weeks, ignoring me, rejecting every single offer to hang out - did i do something wrong?"

that last sentence hurts you, it hurt to think of him wondering if he'd upset you. "no." is all you manage to say.

night envelops you both, the quiet thumping of the music from inside fills the silence in between your words.

"then, what?" he asks and you can hear him almost stomp his feet.

"people keep asking me if we're. . . a thing and i thought. . . well i thought it would be better if we kept some distance, that's all." you said with a shrug, folding your arms firmly.

silence falls around you both for a few moments. you wondered if he could hear how loudly your heart was beating in your chest, as though it were threatening to escape.

and then you could feel his presence behind you, his head near your shoulder, lips close to your ear. ". . . is that what you want?" clapton asked, his breath shaking slightly.

the closeness was almost too much to handle. your stomach in knots, it trips over itself, desperately trying to untangle the anxious mess inside. of course distance wasn't what you wanted.

he mutters your name softly into your ear, placing a hand on your hip and you snap, turning quickly with clenched fists. you want to yell, you want to ask him what you both are, you want to tell him to piss off - you want him.

fuck, you want him.

clapton raises his hands slightly to give you space and looks rather defeated, those hazel puppy dog eyes veering to the left to avert your heated gaze. but he then stands still, slowly his eyes return to yours and he can see conflict behind your eyes. gaining a little more of his confidence back, he puffs out his chest and takes a step closer. you noticed how his hands still shook though, despite that secure stance.

you held his gaze as he approached, your own hands shaking in turn. he almost commanded your attention with those eyes. and you realise in that moment that clapton sees you. he really sees you. he always has. you crave him, like it's been years since you both touched, his soft skin against yours.

"is that. . . what you want?" he repeats, bringing you out of your thoughts and he's firmer this time. you are inches from one another.

his hand snakes towards your neck along your supple skin, cupping against your jaw, thumb resting on your cheek. you can't help but let out a small gasp in response as your hand comes up to rest on his wrist. your cheek nuzzles into his touch, warm, safe.

"i want you." you finally admit, words trembling from your mouth, a short laugh following suit as if it was so silly to hear it out loud.

clapton's eyes sparkle and stare back into yours. you notice how his whole face lights up, unable to hide the smile pulling on his lips. "you have me, you always have." he admits with a soft chuckle like it was so obvious.

and then he kisses you, he kisses you like he's hungry, like he's starving. your lips collide, your eyes close and your knees threaten to buckle beneath you. you come undone. clapton wraps an arm around you to pull your body closer to his and you trail a hand up the back of his neck to grip that messy, adorable hair. his tongue slips into your mouth and you welcome it, feeling warmth rise in your belly.

you never wanted to let go, you never wanted to stop. his hand firmly on your neck and a strong hand on your back, he held you tightly. though you tried to suppress it, a little sigh of pleasure escapes and you can feel him smirk proudly through the kiss. it causes him to hold you tighter in response and your other hand grips his shirt for stability.

the cold air nips at your skin but it's a welcome sensation against the fervency of the kiss. his hand slides around your neck to the back of your head, his fingers lacing into the back of your hair causing ripples of tingles across your shoulders. you whisper his name into his mouth and it comes out in a pleading tone - but you're not sure what you're pleading for.

he gives you what you want, despite you yourself not knowing what that was. a gentle tug on your hair and his firm hand trailing down your side to tug at the bottom of your shirt cheekily. a giggle erupts from your lips as you pull away just enough to let it out, eyeing him with a smirk.

before you know it, your hand is in his and your eyes are drawn to watch your hands tangle together. it amazes you how perfectly they fit, his digits sneaking into yours with a thumb caressing your skin. it felt right. this was exactly what you wanted. it felt different from the other times, more tender, more meaningful. he gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you meet his gaze once more.

"so," he speaks up, breathless, "is our anniversary now or is it when i thought we were actually dating all those years ago?"

you can't help but laugh, breathless too. "oh my god," you roll your eyes, "shut up."

#my writing #clapton davis #clapton davis detention #clapton davis x reader #clapton davis x you #detention fanfiction #josh hutcherson #writing request #jhutch #j hutch #detention 2011 #clapton davis x y/n #clapton davis gif #clapton davis gifs #clapton davis fanfiction #clapton davis fanfic

417 notes · View notes

midnight-mourning · 1 month ago

Text

All Aboard

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 27❄️❄️

Once again, Pom, your brain is massive, this was a LOT of fun, i saw the words 'magic' and 'fae elements' and the pot started boiling over ashjadk, anywho, please enjoy!

Prompt: second request >:3c (but no pressure!!) I havent read all the other folks yet to see if there was a Polar Express/Train ride type oneshot. I feel like train conductor/surrealism vibes would be a delight, with holiday magic and spritely, fae elements sprinkled in. Maybe getting lost on to the destination--or the train getting stopped due to a snowstorm. (Very Nana, if you watched that anime haha) Perhaps, yn is in clear emotional distress bc of smth happening interpersonally leading up. Texting, phones, drama. Do they even want to go home…? … (Will they go back home? >:)) mweheh.)

Word Count: 2811

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

The train whistle blares loudly outside, starting to roll down the tracks. You watch out the window as the station begins to fade away, sighing as snow hits the pane every so often. You check you phone again when it buzzes, another message to add to the pile. Another half-hearted apology you're guessing.

You're about to look in detail when you stop, cursing yourself and shaking your head. You got on this train for that exact reason, to avoid having to speak to them. You weren't going to give in, you just, needed a break. To go somewhere, anywhere really.

Your ticket was for home, and the idea of being back in your apartment sounds better and better by the moment. You sink back in the seat again, already liking the sound of being back in your own bed with your own food and your own life. You never should have come here, should've listened to your friends, they'd been right all along.

You feel a headache coming on, either from the stress, or the exhaustion of crying so much. Or even, the nagging of your friends as they brag and say they told you so. Which, they did, but you didn't need to hear it again. At least you had a day or so. The trip back was long, requiring you to get a sleeper car, where most of your belongings resided currently, save for the book sitting beside you, along with your sketchbook.

You'd been wanting to do a bit of reading, or drawing, anything to take your mind off things, but after receiving that text you just didn't have the heart for it.

"Everything alright over here, friend?"

You glance up, seeing a well-dressed man standing to your right. He was tall, blond, and wore a sun-themed mask over his eyes, which are also covered with a white shade. His smile is warm, kind.

You straighten up a bit, feeling self-conscious all the sudden. "Oh, yeah. Just fine. Sorry, do you need my ticket?"

"Yes please!"

You hand it over to him, and he punches it, promptly handing it back to you. "There you go! Is there anything else I can get for you? Perhaps a snack, or a drink?"

"No, I'm good, but thank you... Sorry, what's your name?"

The man bows slightly. "You may call me Sun. And you, friend?"

"Oh, my friends call me Nick/N." You smile.

Sun tilts his head, his smile seems, strained for a moment. Then—"Welcome aboard, then, Nick/N. We hope you enjoy the ride!" For good measure, he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it for a moment before releasing you.

"T-thanks." You say, watching as he walks off, going over to where the other conductor stands.

You take note that he's wearing a moon mask, with red covering his eyes instead. They exchanged a few hushed words with each other, and when they look over to you, you avert your gaze again.

You didn't pay attention when you booked this train, just got on the first one you could, you wonder if it's themed in some way. It would make sense anyway, why else for the masks?

As you settle in for your ride, the conductors come by multiple times each to check on you. During this you find out the other is named 'Moon', which, pretty on the nose you'd say, but you have to guess it's all part of the act.

Regardless, you find them to be friendly, very chatty, almost too much so. They're constantly offering you something to eat or drink, and if you hadn't brought snacks you'd take them up on the offer. Even then, they try encouraging you to pick something from the train's menu.

"Surely you deserve something better than that, crumbling thing, Sunshine."

"Or something sweet to wash it down, maybe a glass of wine?"

You take another bite of your granola bar. "Nah, this is good enough for now. And I'm not much of a day drinker." You unscrew your water bottle lid, taking a sip. "Appreciate it though!"

"If you change your mind, simply let us know, Starlight."

That was another thing, the nicknames. At first, they used yours that you'd given, almost constantly addressing you in conversation. It was like they were waiting for something to happen. But when it didn't they'd switched to the celestial-themed ones instead.

It was all so, incredibly, interesting.

In the evening, you're sketching in your seat when your phone goes off again. You frown upon hearing it, looking out the window momentarily. It's dark, but you can make out that it's snowing incredibly hard now. You're surprised the train is still able to get through all this—

"What are you drawing, Sunbeam?"

You jump, finding the two of them are across from you. Sun leans over the back of the opposite seat, elbows resting on the top edge, while Moon lounges across the seat itself.

You feel embarrassed now. "Oh, nothing important." You don't want to admit that you're drawing them, that would be utterly humiliating.

You couldn't help it, despite their, overtly friendly behavior—to the point you'd grown slightly suspicious—you found the two to be alarmingly charming despite it all. There was an air about them that was enticing, drawing you in and making you ever curious.

Moon tsks. "Now, now. Don't leave us in suspense. I'm sure anything you create would be lovely."

"It's true, though maybe not as lovely as them, wouldn't you say?" Sun rests his head in his hand, small smirk on his lips.

Moon nods, waving his hand. "Not even a question, of course."

Your ears are burning at this point. And, compelled by their outward flirting you hold out your sketchbook, head ducked to maybe hide some of your awkwardness.

"Just take it already." You mumble. "And go easy on me, please. It's been awhile..."

Eager hands snatch up your book, and they bicker over who gets to hold it. You giggle at the exchange, and they finally settle on each holding one side as they flip through.

As they go, Sun whistles, and Moon hums in agreement, it only serves to fluster you more.

"You made all of these?" Moon asks.

You laugh. "Well yeah, most of those are from months ago. They're, okay, I guess."

"Okay? You have talent, Starshine!" Sun states, waving his hand to the page. "I've never seen a hu-anyone create like this. It's impressive."

You have to cover up your face then, it's on fire. "Please, stop. They're really not—"

"And you drew us?" Sun exclaims.

"They drew me better looking."

Sun huffs. "No, look how they got my jaw perfect!"

They delve into arguing again about who is sketched better and you just about can't take it anymore when your phone starts ringing.

All three of you snap your attention to the device.

When you see the caller ID, your heart fills with dread.

Instead of curling up from being flustered, you curl up with fear, groaning. "Why can't they take a hint..."

As the phone continues to ring, you get ready to pick it up from the seat, either to answer or to decline the call.

You don't get the chance, as Sun asks you a question. "Friend, is this your signature here?" He's pointing to a page of your sketchbook.

"I, yeah. It is." You don't know why you didn't hesitate with that answer, too stressed to think, currently.

You don't notice the shared look between the two, slight grins on their faces at this information.

Your phone is still ringing, so you finally grab it, debating on what to do.

"Do you want to talk to them?" Moon asks you.

You sigh, then laugh. "God no. Not at all. But..." You trail off, and shake your head. "Maybe I should hear them out. Even if I really don't want to deal with them right now."

Your thumb hovers over the answer button, ready to press it—

"Y/n. Don't answer the phone." Sun's words are firm, but there's still a softness to them, almost remorseful?

You don't know, because one moment your phone is in your hand, the next it's not. You... aren't sure why but, it's probably fine, right?

The rest of the evening proceeds like everything is normal. Neither of them calls you by your name again, sticking to their nicknames. You're not hungry, so you don't eat dinner despite their pestering about it not being good for you. And you retire to your bed after a late night filled with chatting. The two of them must have very little work to do as conductors, if they can spend so much time with a single passenger like you.

Speaking of, was the train always so empty, or had people just slowly been getting off without you noticing? You yawn, and as your head hits the pillow decide that you'll worry about it tomorrow. Besides, you should be home by the end of the morning anyhow.

When you wake up the next day, you notice that there's a distinct lack of movement happening. You must have stopped at a station. You stretch and hop out of bed, deciding that after the day you had yesterday, you deserve to walk around in your pajamas for a bit.

You go over to the dining car, incredibly hungry, and expecting people to be boarding. What you find is an empty car filled with piping hot food and—

"Is that a hot coco bar?" You ask to the open air, starting to salivate at the thought.

However, before you even consider food, you decide you need to figure out what's going on. Walking over to the window, you see that the snow is piled high all around the train, almost up to the window. You must have hit a drift in the night, meaning you're stuck until the can clear the tracks.

Normal people would be concerned about this information. But either because you don't care when you get home—as long as you're not there—or because you've developed a strange lack of care for most time related things, you don't mind in the slightest.

With a shrug, you go over and grab a plate and start piling it high, someone's got to eat it, right?

You also grab a large mug of hot chocolate, adding many marshmallows and tons of whipped cream. You sit down, ready to dig in, when you're spooked as you realize Moon is sitting across from you, chin resting in his hand with a smile.

"Good morning, Starlight. Sleep well?"

You nod. "Yeah. You sure know how to make an entrance, don't you?"

"We pride ourselves on it." Sun says with a chuckle, in the seat behind you, you realize.

Looking up, you see he's in a similar position to Moon, small smirk on his face as he observes you.

"Seems so. While you're both here, what's going on with the train?" You raise a piece of toast to your mouth. "Unless I'm wrong and you two aren't good at your job."

You take a bite, and have to sit up again, eyes wide. The bread is perfectly crispy, with just the right amount of butter. It tastes like heaven.

You're too caught up in taking another bite to catch what Sun says.

"Oh my god. This is the best toast I've ever had in my life." You finish devouring it, wiping your mouth and looking back up to him. "Sorry, can you repeat that?"

Sun chuckles, hands shifting to hold your face. "I said, we're snowed in. It will take some time for the tracks to be cleared. Potentially several days."

"Oh, really?" You reach down blindly for more food, and feel your plate be scooted closer to you. You thank Moon briefly and snatch up a piece of bacon, which also tastes divine. "Bummer."

This seems to surprise the masked man, eyebrows shooting up above the mask's edge. "You're not concerned?"

"Nah. To be honest, I don't have much of a place to go back to. A cold apartment in a shitty building on the wrong side of the city." You finish your bacon, grabbing another piece. "Not to mention how my friends are going to be getting on to me about how they were right and I was wrong and on and on and on and, man this food is delicious, like how do you guys have such a good cook for a train?"

Sun looks away from you, and sitting straight you see Moon's looking to him as well. You however, are too busy indulging your gluttony to care. Every single bite is amazing, like, the best breakfast you've ever had.

You're about to take a drink of your hot coco, when a hand grabs your wrist.

"Wait." Moon states, then sighs.

You raise an eyebrow, waiting.

He looks behind you to Sun, and glancing back you see he's frowning, but nods.

He comes around the seat, and sits across from you with Moon. After removing the coco from your hands, he clasps one of yours in both his own.

"We haven't been truthful with you, Sunshine. At least, I believe that's how your people say it." His grip tightens for a moment before relaxing. "It wasn't by accident that you boarded this train."

You furrow your brow. "Well, yeah, I bought the ticket."

"It wasn't the ticket you were supposed to. We, ensured you would board this train specifically." Moon states, sounding, ashamed.

Sun continues for him. "You see, we're not from your world. We come from somewhere else, somewhere long forgotten to most of your kind. Many of our own like to play tricks on you humans, for entertainment and such. We prefer to help."

"The train is designed to find those in need of it." Moon waves to the rest of the car. "The lost, the lonely, the hurting,"—he glances at you for a moment—"It gives them a place to heal, to learn, to change in some cases. Then, when they're ready, the return home, none the wiser to the time that's past or what's truly occurred."

You notice Sun's cheeks are tinged pink under the mask, up until now you don't think you've seen either of them be so bashful. "Though, we've been, 'keeping tabs' on you for some time. Besides the gloomy aura you had we found you to be—" He bites his cheek, and mutters his next words. "Very attractive."

"Getting you here became a bit of a game for us." Moon admits, also blushing now. "As was getting you to share your name, and eat our food. Most never stay on the train long enough to do so. Or at least, they don't think they do."

Sun finally looks back to you, hands still holding your own. "But we wanted to tell you before you took a drink, as that would, bind you to us. But not to the train! You can leave whenever you like, of course. But, you deserved to know our intentions, regardless of whether you would even consider feeling the same or not."

He releases you finally, folding his now fidgeting hands into his lap.

You take a moment to take everything in, reviewing in your head to make sure you understood everything they've told you.

Once you've determined that yes, this is actually happening, you speak.

"So if I drink this, I'll stay here... forever?" You point down to the cup, still steaming.

"You could still leave whenever you wish, but essentially yes—Oh my stars."

The two can only stare, mouths agape as you chug your hot coco in one go. When your finished you sigh, taking your napkin and dabbing your mouth.

"Man, that hit the spot. I'll be getting more of that later. Anywho,"—you start to dig in to the rest of your plate—"It might take me a bit, but which one of you wants dibs on first kiss? If that's your thing, that is."

"I-"

"Me." Moon blurts.

At this, Sun blusters, and you snicker to yourself as they begin to debate back and forth on the subject. You glance out the window at the snowy landscape, taking in how, enchanted it feels now that you fully understand the situation. It's certainly not what you expected to happen when you boarded this train, but you're certainly not complaining about the outcome.

Maybe you'll change your mind, and one day depart from this place and the two fae you've somehow acquired. But as of this moment, spending your days with two magic beings vying for your attention, a warm bed, good food, and helping others?

That's a pretty good deal to you.

Best Christmas present you've ever gotten, by a long shot.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you @divinit3a for the request! As i said before, VERY big brained and I enjoyed it a good bit hehe ^-^

Thanks for reading!

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info, you can also dm me!):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8 @luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @milosmantis @robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva @juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml @divinit3a @amarynthian-chronicles @crystalfay

126 notes · View notes

x-reader-things · 29 days ago

Text

“I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Ekko x gn!reader [could be read as either romantic or platonic]

Summary ; In which you and Ekko help each other find your spark of creating again.

Requested? ; No. Self indulgent.

Warnings ; hurt / comfort, grief, a hint of survivors guilt but mostly just guilt in general, loss of a friend [unnamed uncanon character], not exactly a warning but hair is mentioned w / no specific hair type described.

Word count ; 2.3 k words

——————————————————————

You stare at the mural in front of you.

Tall and daunting. The tree grew around it like a shield, and the portraits were protected by the home built above in the branches.

Rain pattered on the ground. It had begun to soak through your clothes, dotted cold and unwelcoming on your cheeks. Slid off your head and yet caught into your hair at the same time. You were lucky it wasn’t pouring.

It smelled. A mix of petrichor and something putrid. No doubt from the smog that always left the sky over Zaun grey, and never clear enough for the sun to fully peak through. Such is the usual, for the undercity.

None of that mattered, though.

You were tasked - well, you took it upon yourself - to paint a portrait of another fallen Firelight. You were an artist like most of them were. You painted in your downtime for a while, up until recently.

The past year hadn’t been kind to you. Even with the Firelights being there, existing as a home. As a beacon of hope. For change. It wasn’t enough to fan the flames of the dimmed spark of creativity, that you longed to feel once again.

One failed mission after the next. An injury in your leg that had you benched for weeks. Chembarons were getting reckless, and enforcers were relentless - you feared when the other shoe would drop, when shit would hit the fan.

And then, the recent loss.

A close friend of yours.

The guilt was impudent. Almost impertinent. It seared into your bones like an angry flame that simmered and waited. Stars, you hated it so much. It never went away, no matter how much you tried to distract yourself by throwing yourself headfirst into work.

You took up more tasks despite the stinging twinge in your leg. You did more chores under the guise of letting fellow firelights take a break. Some meaningless and small, others bigger and more meaningful. Busying your mind so you didn’t have time to think too much.

And you took this task, especially, because you thought you could handle it.

You thought this would knock you out of your stupor, let you create again, out of respect for your fallen friend. Give yourself an outlet to let things be, let your mind be content, albeit in a melancholy way.

But the moment you stared into the blank space you were given to work with, all you could do was freeze.

One wrong move, and you’d fuck it up for good. One wrong stroke of a brush and a spray can would mess up the image of that friend.

And starting would ruin the blank space even more. It’d have marred the image you had in your mind, the one you needed to begin soon, lest you get sick from the rain. You didn’t want to mess it up.

You didn’t want to fuck it up.

You didn’t want to ruin the image of your friend.

The friend who you lost because the phantom pain in your leg grew too much to the point where it screwed up your footing on your hoverboard, made you swerve around an incoming bomb being thrown by a blue haired woman working for Silco, made you knock into your friend who lost their own balance and fell with a mind shattering scream, and then—

“Still haven’t started yet?”

Light thunder crackled in the distance, the rumbling amplified by your hyper vigilance.

Startled, you took in a sharp breath, and instantly turned to where you heard the voice from. You hadn’t even realized you were holding your breath in. Your lungs were grateful for the intake of air.

On the wooden balcony below you, you caught sight of the main firelight leader. Ekko.

Arms crossed, eyes tired, head tilted in the usual way he did while regarding something he needed to comprehend. The twisted locks of his hair moved with his head, vibrant against the greyed out colors surrounding you both. Usually, the grounds and the walls surrounding the firelight hideout were more colorful. Today, the rain made it more somber.

“I…”, you tried to form a viable excuse. Whatever your words were caught on the tip of your tongue, and refused to make themselves known. Your eyes flitted back to the blank part of the mural, and back to Ekko.

You wondered if he’d understand.

“I. Can’t.”

Your words were stilted. Hesitant. They cut through the rain like a knife. Unsettled in the air.

Ekko straightened up ever so slightly. He dipped his head the slightest bit lower, with a blink and a raise of his brows. His dark brown eyes urged you to continue.

“I-I can’t—“, you repeated, arms dropping to your sides in defeat. Your thoughts were buzzing in your mind and you couldn’t stop the words from flowing in time. They tumbled out in a jumble you swore on you could comprehend, and your arms gesticulated as you paced on the creaking wood below your feet.

“—every time I try, I just. Can’t. And I need to do this, I have to. I promised I would. And I can’t stop thinking about what happened but I need that to stop, I have to do this because they’re my friend and I can’t fuck this up, I can’t ruin the image of them. And I can’t fucking—“

You kicked a paint can at your feet. It soured over the ground below you, and felt to the grass well below the balconies.

“—bring myself to pick up a single one of these paint cans.”

Ekko’s eyes followed the paint can while it fell. It hit the dirt below, and the distant thump was drowned out by the rain. He clicked his tongue, and sighed with a shake of his head.

You were angry. You were grieving. It’s not like he could tell you to stop, nor would he ever. Any and every Firelight knew what it was like. Seeing you like this, though - abound with ideas, but with no spark, no drive anymore…

It reminded him too much of himself.

He was a leader. The leader of the Firelights. He focused his time on making their hideout a home. Bit by bit, he picked up the broken pieces of Zaun. Did his best to, at the very least. The chembarons, Silco and Shimmer proved difficult, along with Piltover.

With all that work, and all that responsibility, it left him restless. Left him exhausted. Even with the help of Scar, his second hand man, and many others within the community he created, it still weighed him down. Every time he opened that journal of his, without the need of making a blueprint for a new gadget to create, without the need for a map for a plan, the pages were blank.

When he tried, those pages were ripped. Those pages were full of jagged lines, or crinkled up and tossed to some corner of his messy room. He’d stare at those pages for hours, head in his hands, and wonder where the hell his spark went.

When did he lose it?

How?

Ekko took a few steps forward, and pulled himself up to the platform above. With a grunt, he heaved over the wooden railing as carefully as he could. The rain made everything they stood on wet, and prone to slip on. When he stood up, and dusted his hands off, he got a clear look at you.

You forced out a sound, a mix between a scoff and a wry laugh. Ran a hand over your head, and pushed water droplets flat onto your hair. Tore your eyes away from where the paint can used to be, and back to the mural. “Been stuck for months. And the one damn time I need to create, for them—“

You sharply gestured your arm out to the blank spot - an eerie crème colored sight compared to the rest of the wall, save for a few cracks - and your voice trembled. Water droplets fell from your hand as it flicked away from the top of your head.

“Hey—”, Ekko reached a hand out, and rested it against the opposite arm that stayed at your side. He grasped your elbow, and gave it a gentle tug. It tore your attention away from the wall, and back onto him. His voice was calm, almost somber. “— C’mon.”

He took in a breath, and his other hand made a breathe-in motion. You followed in suit, the smell of petrichor invading your nose, air filling your lungs. The tension in your shoulders went tighter.

After a few seconds, Ekko slowly breathed out. You followed him, and the tightness in your muscles faded ever so slightly.

Once Ekko was sure you were calm enough, he scoffed out a small breath, and the corners of his mouth twitched up in a wry sort of smile. It was small, but it was there.

“I… get what you mean”, he started. His voice was in a softer tone. One you didn’t hear as often, compared to his ‘Leader Voice’. It blended into the ambient noise of the rain, yet it was perfectly clear for you. Never broke the calm like the thunder did.

“When I got good enough, I started this—” Ekko looked at the wall behind you, an old ache settling into the small pinch between his brows. “—the mural. Thought that since i the skills, I could put this up. Thought that I could make something good, make something to remember them by, for...”

He sighed through his nose. You followed his gaze, and landed on the portraits you’ve known for years. Six portraits. The oldest ones. The same style, the same paint, the same process.

All were Ekko’s. The people he knew, before the Firelights had become The Firelights. Before he had to grow up as quick as he did.

“… your family?”, you asked tentatively, to complete the sentence for him. Ekko hummed in acknowledgment, and the smallest hint of a smile grew on his face.

“Yeah. My family.”, another sigh, and his shoulders dropped when he looked up at the rest of the mural. “Back then I created so much. Started this tradition, whenever we lost someone. Helped to create so many things for us. For the Firelights. A lot like you did, when you first started here, y’know? But now—”

Your eyes met again.

“—you can’t even look at a blank page anymore.”, you finished. He gently squeezed your elbow, and your hand had instinctively found its way to rest against his forearm.

“You get it”, he nods. “So…”

He let go of your arm to lean down and grab a paint can. Your hand lingered against the arm of his jacket, the outside of it already littered with dark spots from the rain. When Ekko stood up, he shook the spray can at his side. The mix bearing hit against tin of the can, and mixed the paint up enough to be properly used. After that, he took your hand off of his arm, and turned it so that your palm was facing up. He placed the paint can into your hand.

“—Let’s just… Take things slow. See how things go from there, alright?”

The cool metal of the can soaked into the skin of your hand. Your fingers curled over it, and tightened their grip.

“I don’t want to fuck this up.”, you whispered.

The very thought of starting the portrait you dreaded to creeped up from the back of your mind. The cold seeped back into your spine. You wouldn’t say it out loud but it terrified you to the very depths of your being.

“You won’t.” Ekko’s voice broke through the anxious haze that began to cloud your head again. His hand remained on the other side of the paint can in your hand. A promise that he wouldn’t leave you alone. “I got you. Besides—“

He gestured to your leg. A reference to the injury. “—standing up here alone for hours at a time won’t be good for that leg of yours. Figured you need someone to help when you need to rest it.”

You gave him a weak smile. A small thank you for the thought. He wasn’t wrong. Standing for that long would hurt. However…

“It’s gonna make it real, Ekko.”, the tremor in your voice returned. Warmth stung behind your eyes. Warm tears, against the cold air. “Losing them.”

The tremor in your voice this time had finally broken it into pieces.

“I know.”, Ekko murmured. He definitely knew. “It’s gonna hurt for a long time. But this—“

He waved his hand towards the mural. “—is the first step to healing. I’m gonna be right there with you.”

You nodded, and wiped a stray tear that fell from the corner of your eye.

“Alright.”

Ekko moved his hand away from the can, and you walked forward. You stepped on the creaking wood of the step stool in front of the mural. The intimidating blank stretch of the concrete felt way larger than it appeared. But when you took a deep breath, and caught the encouraging nod of Ekko when he went to your side a little ways away, the tension fell away.

The rain pattered calmly behind you.

The cold didn’t sting as deep. Neither did the guilt.

You shook the can at your side again, and raised it up to the wall. You sniffed once, and exhaled a shaky breath.

One spray after another.

One shape formed into an ear. Another, a nose. Soon the eyes.

And soon, a face. A little extra help from Ekko turned that face into a person. Your friend.

Nothing was marred, nothing was ruined.

And for once, the world seemed a little less cruel.

79 notes · View notes

cookiekissers · 4 months ago

Note

Genuinely and desperately ask for Crunchy Chip cookie x male reader! Crunchy Chip always puts up a front of not wanting/caring for sweet stuff but deep down loves it. Imagine him like that but with people, he acts tough around others but completely melts when he's around reader. Thank you for existing and doing the Lord's work 🙏 lmao

[Crunchy Chip x Male Reader]

I haven't written or posted that much yet, but thank you!! It's an honour <3

Crunchy Chip Cookie works diligently to keep up his image as a hardened warrior. But like the sweets he pretends to despise, he can barely hide his feelings around you, Y/N Cookie. If he had a tail, it would be wagging whenever he sees you! He can't help it!

Around others, he acts like his usual prideful self, but as soon as he spots you, he gets quiet and flustered. Crunchy Chip believes he's good at concealing his feelings for you, but it's apparent to everyone what's really going on. Even if you're the oblivious type, you'll eventually notice because it's so obvious. Crunchy Chip isn't exactly subtle. But this only makes him all the more charming!

If you pretend you haven't caught on to his feelings yet, and decide to start teasing him, it will make him melt. He tries hard to deny the intense feelings you "inflict" on him, how his heart pounds when you get a little too close to him and tease him, and how you have all but taken over his thoughts. He constantly scolds himself for how mushy he's acting! You have turned him into a lovestruck puppy and he hates it. Acting this way is unbecoming of a great Dark Cacao warrior! Yet… ask a favour of him or call for him and he will run to you without hesitation.

If you're waiting for Crunchy Chip Cookie to make the first move you will have to wait for a while, so you will probably have to take initiative on this one. But once you two do get together officially, expect to see his softer side much more often. He only does this in private and around you. No one else gets to see Crunchy Chip like this but you. <3

It's a little different in private. When you're alone with him, he relaxes a little bit, but not by much. His code of pride and rigorous discipline has been drilled into his head, so its a tough habit to break. If you gently remind him that he does deserve to relax a little and have care and softness, he will indulge somewhat guiltily. But he is still afraid of being "caught in the act," so his relaxation with you will be restrained. But afterwards, he will dream of it. Being in your arms, having you stroke his hair lovingly while he rests in your lap. Crunchy Chip will wake up in his tent amidst the snow on a frozen mountain and daydream about looking up at your handsome face and yearn to experience such tenderness and warmth again.

But don't try to bring up your affectionate sessions in public, Crunchy Chip will panic and try to play dumb and pretend that it didn't happen. It's not that he didn't enjoy being with you! Honestly, the guy is yearning and pining so hard he thinks he's physically ill.

96 notes · View notes

frakts1ya · 4 months ago

Text

"What perfume are you wearing?" Taehyun's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. The silence in the room was too much for the pair.

"Hm, it's one of my favorite scents, I just finally found it at the store I go to buy perfume," You explain. "Why?"

"I noticed you smelled different, sounds a bit weird saying it out loud, but you get it, right?" Taehyun responds. It's just you and him, your best friend, in the comfort of your bedroom.

You snatch one of your plushies from the sea on your bed, squeezing it in your arms. "Mhm, do you want a better smell?" You held your wrist up for him.

"Ah, sure..." one of Taehyun's gentle hands hold your wrist as he presses his nose against it. "Smells good, is it vanilla?"

"You know your scents." A small smile appears on your lips. Then, it feels almost as if time slowed down for the both of you as Taehyun slowly inches closer to you.

"I like you," He bluntly states. His cheeks are dusted pink and his hand is still holding onto your wrist.

"Do you really?" Your hand gently strokes his dark hair, trying to cover up your surprise.

"Do you want me to show you?" He suggests. He's closer to your face now, cupping your cheeks. You can only meekly nod before he presses his lips onto yours.

One could say sparks were flying in your room that day, you and Taehyun were like neighboring pieces of a puzzle, lips fitting on his perfectly. Once he pulls off of you to get some air, he could only look at you with half-lidded eyes, clouded with admiration. "Yeah, I really do. I'm assuming you return the feelings?"

"Of course I do, Tyun," You tell him.

#sorry guys this is all I could musterright now. school is stressing me out and I've had some bad mental health #I'll try working on the requests Sunday since I'm busy Saturday❗ btw Terry if you hypothetically see this im free monday.. 😉 /j #hoshii writes #kang taehyun x reader #kang taehyun #txt x reader #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together x reader #hoshiis drabbles

89 notes · View notes

void-detective · 7 months ago

Text

Earned Place 💰

[[GIF NOT MINE! ALL DIVIDERS MADE BY CAFEKITSUNES]]

Author note: This is a request made by @eboni-napalm that continues as part to my Gunther series, check the other two parts here. My requests are currently open as of now 🖊️ Final part for the Gunther series as of right now! Sorry about lack of proof editing btw 🖤

Word count: 2,646

Warning: praise kink, 18+, sex, gentle sex, two way(?), and face fucking

Summary: After Gunther's king of the ring win the reader seeks a way to prove their spot within the Imperium. After winning the tournament the reader gets greeted by more than they had bargained for.

May 25, 2024 - Women's Queen of the Ring finals

After your previous encounters with Imperium you had sought out a way to prove you deserved a spot within the tag team. And what better way to do it then win the Queen of the Ring tournament just like how Gunther had won against Orton. It only seemed fair that you proved you could hold your own like Kaiser, believing you needed to earn your spot in their team.

So you worked your ass off towards the finals of the Queen of the Ring and ended up in one last match against Lyra who was an upcoming star like yourself but you had more to prove compared to her.

This was for Imperium.

You staggered backstage panting and skin glistening backstage as you smiled, feeling the adrenaline finally ebb away as you wiped down your face. You felt relieved with your win and secretly hoped it was possible that Gunther had seen how hard you worked to get the win on Lyra. You were still sore but felt happy with the results of your win as you brushed damp strands of your hair back with a satisfied look.

So you made it through backstage quietly walking down the corridor a bit lost in thought as you went with a small sigh letting the tension finally ease out your body. It felt nice to actually win a big match for once in your career and even more to prove you could hold your own as a singles competitor outside of NXT and the indies.

You were still buzzing from the match as you moved past other superstars till you made it towards the locker room. You exhaled a nervous breath and pushed open the door to the locker room. You peered around as you stepped further in being greeted by the ever smug and annoyed expression of Kaiser standing of course in the way of where Gunther was.

“Can I help you?” Ludwig narrowed his eyes as he folded his arms behind his back with a small frown, assessing you with a scrutinizing gaze. His brows drawn down in that glare and a bit of a sneer pulling at his lips as he stared you down.

You let out an exasperated huff and looked around the locker room for the General before you glanced back towards Ludwig. “Are you ever going to like me?” You questioned with a quirked brow giving him a half amused yet tired stare.

“Probably not.” Ludwig shrugged and chuckled in amusement at your frustration as he waved a hand. “I just believe he deserves better.” He muttered with a scoff and stepped out your way with his eyes narrowed and a bitter scowl present on his features.

You ignored his comment with a roll of your eyes as you moved further into the locker room with a sigh. You stopped coming across Gunther lounged on one of the couches with that nice navy suit that he wore when he wasn't scheduled to fight. You smiled shyly as you stepped towards him and he sat up straight to meet you with a friendly look.

“You did good y/n, always impressive.” Gunther chuckled warmly and smiled as he observed you carefully with a intrigued look. “You did well on your promise to earn your spot as a member and lucky for you, we have an opening.” The offering felt like the biggest luck and like your wish had been granted but you secretly felt bad for Giovanni who had been kicked out of Imperium not too long ago by Ludwig. It made sense because of the fact that he wasn't used much unlike Kaiser but it still stung regardless.

“Thank you, your praise means a lot to me.” You smiled warmly looking fond as you brushed your hair out your face. “Although I don't know if Ludwig will ever like me.” You added jokingly as you peered over towards Kaiser who was still standing nearby, listening in as always.

Gunther cracked a genuine laugh and patted his chest with a smile as he turned his gaze towards his tag team partner. “Ah well, he'll warm up eventually..if not I'll chop him for you.” He hummed back in a playful way but still in a serious tone that had the other man tense a bit noticeably.

Ludwig held his hands up in a placating gesture and chuckled as he looked off to the side as he cleared his throat. You couldn't help but laugh to yourself at the gesture and the way he looked at the response but you couldn't blame him either. Being on the receiving end of one of Gunther's chops sounded less than ideal.

“Anyway y/n, I had an idea to reward your hard work but I need to know if you're comfortable with..Ludwig too. If he gets out of hand I will straighten him out for you.” Gunther patted his lap leaning forward with his hands on his knees trying to ensure you saw he was serious as he gazed up at you intently.

“You mean like..as in sex?” You questioned as you scratched your cheek turning to gaze at the younger man with curiosity, feeling your cheeks warm up in embarrassment. Your heart beginning to race in your chest are the implications like it was the most dirty thing to do.

“No he means in the ring.” Kaiser muttered with an amused snort as he raised a brow in amusement over the situation. His lips turned up into a wide smirk as he eyed you in an almost condescending way. God you wanted to smack him.

The thought made your head reel but it wasn't an unsavory idea now that you thought about it. You weren't into Kaiser like you were Gunther but if it meant getting even more good favor within the group, you were in for it. Plus maybe he'd stop being such a dick about all of it.

“I'm good with it.” You whispered back fiddling with your ring gear as you smiled over at Gunther with a nod of reassurance. It made you feel a lot better knowing how considerate he could be even now in these situations.

Gunther nodded his head in approval and leaned back on the couch looking up at you with an appraising gaze almost like a proud mentor. “Well go ahead I'll let you choose whatever you want.” He chuckled, the Austrian accent still ever prominent and you couldn't help but internally melt.

You let out a small breath feeling your nerves rack but with his permission you told a lot more at ease as you walked toward him. You watched him relax and give you another nod before you slipped onto his lap, gently straddling him as you looked up at him with your thighs on each side of his legs as you looked up at him. You felt his hands slide up your thighs and stay there which you didn't mind anyway.

As you adjusted getting used to sitting on his lap you could just feel the warmth and difference in your sizes. He was a big guy in general with everything and you could never not marvel at it all. You knew a lot of the women in the locker room didn't find him attractive but to you he was and not just in looks but the style and passion for the business.

You hesitated and felt him gently squeeze your thighs in response, almost trying to silently soothe you and tell you it was okay. You took another deep breath through your nose and moved a hand over his arm and onto his shoulder. Your other free hand moving up to gently caress his face like he was fragile even though it would take a lot to even dent him at all. You saw the glimmer of amusement in those green eyes as he raised a brow in question at your gentle handling of him.

“..Sorry, uh just admiring.” You cleared your throat and felt your blush burn toward the tips on your ears in response and felt your heart flutter at the soft chuckle that left him.

“Really? You're an odd one y/n, I don't have many women say they're trying to admire me.” The Austrian mused with a shake of his head but didn't deter your touches, only looking amused by them.

Contemplating your next moves you leaned your head forward peering at him uncertainty before mentally saying ‘fuck it' and closed the distance between you both. You kissed him gently and sighed, relaxing as he reciprocated the kiss and you moved the hand to his shoulder.

Eventually you parted and avoided his gaze as you rubbed your neck looking down as you shifted in his lap. You had an idea for what you wanted so you shifted and rocked your hips forward against the erection you could feel hardening against your thigh. “This okay?” You whispered a bit breathless as squeezed his shoulders, getting a hum in response.

You lifted yourself up and helped undo the belt carefully with his help pulling the pants down enough so they wouldn't get stained. You shifted and felt your breathing hitch as he helped pull down your ring gear to help get better access. As you shifted he guided you to lean back a bit and ran his hand over your side gently.

“I'm going to have to prep you, I don't have any condoms on me either. Plus I need to ensure you stay quiet so..” He gently laid you down on the couch, shifting to lean over you as he ran his fingers over your folds gently. He chuckled feeling you shiver and whimper under him before he nodded to Ludwig who had been patiently waiting at the sidelines for que.

Kaiser smirked in amusement and dark enjoyment as he stepped forward as he pulled down his wrestling trunks. He coaxed you to look over by turning your head towards his now freed cock and stepped towards you. “I hope you remember last time.” He mused with a smirk as he guided you to take him slowly.

In time with Kaiser's thrusts you could feel Gunther's thick fingers scissoring the inside of your entrance as you whimpered around Ludwig. The feeling on both ends was overwhelming even as you trembled beneath both men who were assaulting your senses on each end.

“Breath princess, you're doing very good.” Gunther pulled his fingers free from you and he gently stroked your thigh as he watched Ludwig thrust into your mouth. One of his hands soothing your trembling thigh while his partner worked towards his release. “That's a good girl.” He whispered to you and rubbed the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You trembled, breathing through your nose as you hollowed your cheeks and gently reached to hold Ludwig's hip as the man steadied his ever shuttering thrusts. You felt his movement getting erratic as he grunted above you before grabbing a handful of your hair and pushing deep with a low groan. You internally grimaced as the salty taste went down your throat and grunted around him as you tapped his hip.

Ludwig pulled back from you and ruffled your hair with a chuckle as he stepped back. “She's all yours, Gunther.” He wiped himself clean and tucked himself back in his trunks as he turned walking across the locker room.

You coughed lightly and made a face as you huffed watching the other man leave with a small huff of breath. Your breathing slowly coming back to normal as you turned your gaze back towards the larger man above you.

The General smiled at you and brushed your hair out your face as he looked down at you from above. “Are you sure this is what you want, y/n?” He whispered and ran his thumb over your cheek in a gesture that was almost too sweet. Everything about him was so tough and dominant but it seemed he was showing you a softer side of himself.

As you nodded in confirmation and gently spread your legs, you could see him relax and his eyes flick up to your face as he moved over on top of you. One hand braced over the arm of the couch and the other soothing your side and coming down to rub your hip as if steading your nerves.

You breathed shaky and shifted, placing a hand on his shoulder and the other on his side, guiding him closer. You bit your bottom lip as you wrapped your legs around his waist and used your free hand to free his cock from the confines of his boxers. You felt his grip tighten on your hip as he lifted your body up towards him a bit and he positioned himself between your legs.

“Ready? I need you to breathe and tell me if you need me to stop okay? Alright..” The Austrian murmured gently soothing a hand over your stomach as he guided the tip into your entrance. “Easy love, easy..I got you.” He whispered, feeling you tense and whimper under him as he slowly pushed more of himself into you. “There, you're doing so good for me hm?” He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your jaw before he moved the hand off your hip to cover your mouth. “Tap me if you want me to stop okay? I can't risk being heard.”

You felt your heart racing in your chest both from anticipation and excitement as you slowly nodded in agreement to his words. You let yourself relax beneath him and jolted at the first experimental thrust he gave which made you feel just how much he filled you up. You trembled and exhaled through your nose as he set a steady yet gentle pace so you could adjust to the foreign sensation. The burning and discomfort slowly gave way to pleasure like sensation lightening your senses on fire.

Upon feeling you begin to relax and hear your soft muffled sounds against his hands he had begun to move a bit faster and with more force. The movements made you shake and jolt beneath him and you braced yourself by holding his shoulders as his hand clamped over your mouth more. He grunted softly with the effort and watched your reactions carefully for any signs of discomfort as you tilted your head back and arched your back into his movements.

It didn't take long for you to feel the familiar pooling in your stomach and increasing heat that was building towards your release. You trembled upon the intense feeling as you gasped softly against his hand and tightened your grip on his shoulder to try and anchor yourself as your mind began to blank.

“That's a good girl.” Gunther growled in your ear and thrusted deep making you lightly scratch his shoulder and tense up. “Let go for me.” He whispered and kissed your neck, keeping a hand over your mouth as he used the free one to rub the sensitive bud which sent you right over the edge. He grunted and scrunched his nose as you clamped around him as you moaned against his hand.

As your release slowly died down you could feel him pull out and rub your thigh. You watched as he sat back slightly and pumped himself a few times before he came with a low growl and panted softly. God you loved being underneath him. Even now boneless and spent you could feel your attraction and love for the man only increasing.

“You did so good for me, my queen.” He whispered and cupped your cheek giving you a soft kiss before he pulled back to watch you with a soft look. “You earned your spot.”

#this is my gift to Gunther fans alike #i do a good service/j #wwe #wwe gunther #gunther wwe #ludwig kaiser #the imperium #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfic request #x reader #gunther x reader #bunny writes #wwe imagine #wwe smut

121 notes · View notes

xchronicles · 6 months ago

Text

After watching the Screen Rant interview, I want Season 3 of Prodigy without Admiral Janeway or Chakotay appearing at all. Holo Janeway is more than enough. Kate is clearly against J/C for whatever reason, and she even went after Brett for wanting Gwyn/Dal. I'd rather enjoy Season 3 with the Protostar kids only and not get frustrated with the J/C stuff. Please, I'm begging. Brett, my beloved.

Media and art are escapism. We live in super messed up times, and I just want two imaginary, make-believe characters to kiss so my mind can escape into something positive and feel the love that the world is so clearly missing. People find comfort in art and can feel a bit of love through imaginary characters in this messed up world. The rest of Prodigy is about hope; J/C is about (romantic) love, and it's a positive path to take, especially in times where men are being taught to hate women by idiots like Tate. And here you have a character, a man (Chakotay), who gives zero fucks about power dynamics and gender roles. We want them together as a middle finger to the gender roles imposed by social norms. Janeway hates to cook and do house chores, Chakotay does not. Janeway likes to be in command, Chakotay is fine being her support. They are breaking the tiresome stereotypes, and dunking on the shippers for wanting them to be together is just playing into the 'a strong woman can only be strong if she is forever alone' trope. It's an outdated mindset.

That is why Kate. For every girl and woman who was told repeatedly she'll be alone and that no man would want her because she didn't fit the gender role. Because she wanted to be in power and be loved at the same time. For daring to want both. Women can have both. Women are allowed to have both. Being in a romantic relationship is not weak, and it's freaking weird to be saying that having two characters be in a romantic relationship who clearly love each other beyond words would do them a disservice. What does that teach the kids? That you have to choose? That having a powerful bond and a romantic relationship is mutually exclusive? It's weird, and I'm tired of pretending that it's not.

#star trek prodigy #janeway x chakotay #j/c #the pinging and tension was already done in the X-Files with Mulder and Scully #It isn't novel or empowering #It's a worn out trope used as a plot device to try and keep the audience engaged #if you don't know how to write characters in a relationship and make it interesting then you need to rethink how you approach writing #also acknowledging that the shippers saved S2 and then laugh at them for wanting the relationship to be canon is a dick move #sorry Kate but I have my empowering female character who I don't need to be in a romantic relationship and it most definitely isn't Janeway #cause Janeway was never written as an asexual loner by her default state #and trying to make her as such now is forcing something onto a character that feels unnatural and done purely as a request by the actor #rather than the natural progression of the character #Boxes are nice but they were never meant to contain a human heart Kate

59 notes · View notes

waterfallofspace · 2 months ago

Note

Hello! Just wanted to say that reading your fics has reawakened the t/m/a hyperfixation in me. I am loving it so I must thank you for that XD

Since you asked for prompts, would you consider writing J/on trying to push through a massive dust allergy in the archives? Maybe he forgot to take his meds and is still trying to quietly tackle the monumental task of organizing G/ertrude's hellscape of an office by himself. Unfortunately for him, it doesn't go to plan ^v^"

Have a good day/night! 🧡

I'm glad!! it's such a hyperfixation for me too haha~ thank you for the prompt, I hope I managed to do it some form of justice!~ this is early days though, so do be warned that Martin and Jon will not have the uh, more friendly vibes we know of them from later!~ <3 which did actually hurt a little to write ;-;

Malfunctions

The one in which Jon experiences some... bodily malfunctions.

Word Count: 3.5k Characters: Jon, Tim, Martin

“Boss?”

Jon waves a hand for Tim to enter, barely glancing up from the paper he’s scouring. If he’d have known what kind of state the archives was in when he was offered the position… well he’d still have taken it, but he might have negotiated a better pay.

“-about it, right?” Tim says, seemingly the end of a sentence, not the beginning.

Wearily, Jon looks up, groaning softly as he realizes Tim has definitely been talking this whole time. “Apologies, I was… a bit preoccupied. Would you mind repeating that?”

Tim simply shrugs, giving Jon a winning smile. “It can wait till later. What’s got you so distracted? Another case not workin’ on the laptop?”

“Quite. It’s frankly unbelievable, the state Gertrude left these archives in.” Jon starts, clenching the paper slightly in his hands. “Boxes and boxes of files and paperwork, all scattered and randomized and don’t make any sort of sense- You’d think someone with such a meticulous system of numbers would bother making it a usable one!”

There’s a slight chuckle from Tim, but Jon hardly even registers it.

“And then the fact some won’t even record- Not to mention the fact they’re mostly just rubbish fiction, it’s starting to feel like her entire existence was aimed at making my job as difficult as possible,” Jon finally trails off, slightly out of breath.

Tim chuckles at this, giving Jon a playful smirk. “Much as Gertrude may have been a bit of a waste of an archivist by the end, I don’t really think you can blame her for your laptop not recording properly.”

“I can blame her for whatever I damn well please…” Jon finds himself muttering under his breath. Tim’s raised eyebrow proves he heard it, but neither of them acknowledge this. Instead Jon simply nods, letting out a long sigh.

“Anyways,” Tim continues, gesturing to the file that- Jon didn’t even notice he was holding. “Found another one fallen behind a shelf, figured you’d want to know about it.”

Another weary sigh, followed by Jon nodding for Tim to leave it on the nearest pile of boxes. What Jon meant was for Tim to set it on top of the boxes so he could go check it out once he was finished here. What Tim did, however, was drop it on top without a care in the world.

A plume of dust rises from where the file hits the box, drifting around into the office air. Tim immediately coughs a few times, waving a hand in front of his face in an attempt to clear a bit of it. Jon, on the other hand, winces visibly, fighting the urge to pull his shirt over his face. He settles for running a knuckle under his already twitching nose. The slight itch that he’d been fighting since this morning spreads into a burning tickle, and it takes everything he has not to sneeze.

“Woah,” Tim exclaims, still coughing slightly. “Bloody hell there’s a lot of dust around here.”

“Seems cleanliness was hardly one of Gertrude’s strengths either,” Jon replies, each word bringing him one step closer to the brink.

Mind over body, he does not have to sneeze. He’s not allergic to dust, and his eyes are not beginning to water. He’s a professional, damn it. And professional archivists, head archivists, are not taken down by something as simple, and common, as dust.

“I mean I knew it was bad in storage,” Tim continues, seemingly oblivious to the struggle Jon finds himself fighting through. “But I figured at least in your office it would be a bit cleaner.”

“I haven’t had a chance to get a deep clean done,” Jon retorts, feeling annoyance start to creep into his tone. “I’ve been quite busy, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Tim holds up his hands in mock surrender, “Right, right, wasn’t making a comment on your work ethic or anything. Honestly I just figured Elias would have sent someone to do it for you or something.”

“I know,” Jon offers, softening his tone. “I’m sorry. I’m just a bit…”

“Yeah,” Tim replies. His smile is back, but it seems a touch more genuine this time. “We’re all pretty stressed. Gertrude left us a hell of a mess to clean.”

“Quite literally,” Jon says, giving a small smile of his own. “And yes, Elias did offer, but there’s hardly been a reasonable hour that I haven’t been here cleaning up hehh– her mess.”

It’s only for a second, but Jon feels his entire body go slack as the sneeze begs to be released, teasing up the edge of his nose. He manages to turn away from Tim enough to pinch his nose for a minute. It does nothing against the deep itch that’s beginning to creep up into his ears and eyes, but at least for now it stalls the sneeze enough for him to turn back.

Tim, for his part, doesn’t seem to be paying attention. Instead, he’s standing in the doorway, holding up one hand with the other hovering in front of his face. At first, Jon can’t for the life of him figure out what the hell Tim’s doing. Is this some form of practical joke?

It takes him right up until Tim gasps, with Jon nearly jumping to his feet at the sudden noise, before he realizes.

“hiehh– hiH’YIESHh’ooo!”

Jon finds himself damn near envious of Tim. He always seems so carefree and unashamed. Those were never qualities Jon shared, even with something as trivial as this. His own nose throbs fiercely in response.

“Wheew,” Tim sighs, lowering his hand with a dramatic sniff. “Sorry ‘bout that, not normally that affected by dust, but I guess if there’s enough it’ll get to anyone!”

There’s a beat of silence, Jon finding himself physically incapable of response. The tickle’s damn near unbearable. His entire being is aching for the release. He knows there’s no point in fighting, it’ll just make it worse when it finally breaks free, but still. A boss should be able to control themselves. The Head Archivist should be able to control their own body.

“What, no blessing?” Tim mocks playfully after a moment of silence passes. He pauses slightly when Jon still shows no sign of response. Finally, Tim seems to get bored, waving a hand in front of Jon’s face as he chuckles out, “Boss? You still in there?”

It’s barely a breeze, but the movement is enough to stir the dust in the air around Jon’s face again. Imperceptible to anyone else, but Jon sees the particles begin to swirl. It’s just enough to break his focus, and he hardly has time to pinch his nose before the sneezes begin to break free.

“hh’nGT–! ah’gNDt–!”

“B-less you boss! See, that’s how you respond when someone sneezes-” Tim begins, trailing off slightly as Jon shows no signs of stopping.

“ah’gNT–! gNNT’ch-! hh’gNDTchh-! Good lord... h-hehh– ah’dNGT–iuh!”

“Bless you some more, wow you really-”

“hH’NNGT-iuh! ah’knDGT-dhh!”

By this point Tim has the decency to look concerned, reaching across Jon’s desk and pulling the tissues closer. Jon blearily grabs a handful, pausing for a series of desperate sounding hitches before ducking into the pile for a few more tight stifles.

“Damn, boss,” Tim says, seemingly a bit lost for words. If Jon’s misery wasn’t the sole cause, he might even find that a bit entertaining. It’s hardly a common occurrence for Tim to be speechless.

“‘Scuse mbe. I’b fide-” Jon begins, noticing Tim wince at the congestion in his voice. Can’t really blame him for that.

“You certainly sound ‘fide’,” Tim mocks gently, moving the tissues closer again. Jon blushes slightly at this, taking a few and turning away politely to blow his nose. Tim, for his part, seems unfazed by this, simply waiting until Jon finishes to resume his taunting.

“That was a hell of an attack, never knew you were so allergic to dust!”

“I’m not,” Jon starts, almost by instinct. Tim’s immediate raised eyebrow confirms there’s really no way out of it this time. “Alright, maybe a little, but it’s usually not nearly this bad. I juhh… hehh– eh’GNDt–iuh! Excuse me. Just forgot to take my medication this mor- enGT-uhh! Excuse me. This morning.”

Tim looks a touch taken aback, staring at Jon with a face Jon can’t quite place. Almost… concern, but with a bit of respect?

“How do you function like this?”

“It’s not normally like this,” Jon replies, massaging the brink of his nose gently. “That’s the point of the medication. I simply was in a rush this morning, and it slipped my mind to take.. t- take… hH’ENGT-dhh! ah’kNDt-iuhh! Excuse me. To take some. Then with your little file incident-”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Tim interrupts, giving a bit of a smile. It’s equal parts sheepish and mocking. “If I’d known you were so allergic, I’d have been a lot more careful.”

Jon fights back his lecture about ‘carelessness in the archives’, and instead settles for a deep sigh. “It’s alright. No way you could have. Like I said, it’s usually quite manageable.”

“Well,” Tim continues, “It’s still quite early. You could run home and grab some medication, I’m sure the archives can survive without you for a quick hour or so-”

“I appreciate the suggestion,” Jon cuts him off, “but I’m fine. I am perfectly capable of running my archives.”

Tim simply shrugs. This is obviously a battle he doesn’t feel like fighting. Jon gives his nose another rub, shivering slightly at the lingering tickle that’s steadily only growing worse.

“Ihh.. If there’s nothing else?”

“Nope! That was all. I’ll leave you to it,” Tim replies, starting to exit the room. Just before he leaves though, he turns on his heel and gives Jon another winning smile. “Oh, and I’ll be sure to tell Martin to pick up some more tissues.”

Jon just grimaces, half certain Tim’s simply trying to get a reaction out of him. But knowing the man, he’ll do it just to get some entertainment. Still, telling him not to would just be ensuring it happens. There’s really no winning here.

Thankfully, Tim closes the door as he leaves, and Jon finally has at least enough privacy to let out another small fit without prying eyes.

“hH– enGdt-iuh! eh’gNT-uhh! ah’ngxT–! eiH’ZSHhhuh! Good lord…”

The last one breaks free, and Jon silently hopes Tim was far enough to not hear it. It’s mortifying enough that Tim’s witnessed what he has, he certainly doesn’t need to see or hear anything further.

Sheer power of will carries Jon through the next two statements relatively uneventfully. Sure, the recording has to be rapidly paused once or twice, but that’s simply a slight malfunction that he quickly corrects. On audio you should hardly be able to tell.

One such… malfunction, however, does manage to slip onto a tape. Of course it had to be one that would only record on the damn tapes. Jon internally (and perhaps externally) curses the statements for refusing the digital plane. A slight hint of editing could remove this error in mere moments, as he perhaps did with a few others. Instead, he sighs deeply, ignoring how damn itchy that sigh was, and rewinds the tape.

“Statement of Elyse Williams regarding unusual activity in her attic. Original statement given March 21st, 2011. Audio recording by Johh…”

Jon pauses for a second, collecting himself and stalling off the impending interruption.

“Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Mahh… hH- h’nDGxt–dhh! Christ.”

The tape clicks off again, and the whirring sound of it rewinding sets Jon’s teeth on edge. Head archivist of the damn Magnus Institute! What kind of archivist, head archivist, can’t even control themselves long enough to record a statement.

With the next go he manages to make it almost halfway through before another interruption.

“It was then that I saw them, crawling all… all around my… hihh– eh’knDgt! ek’nGDt–dhh! Good lord.”

This time he doesn’t even bother rewinding, settling instead for grabbing a new tape entirely. He’ll record over this tape later, but with so much to rewind… it would simply be a waste of time to do it now.

“Statement of Elyse Willaims regarding unusual actihh… activity in her attic. Original statement gi- hh’nXGt! given March 21st, 2011. Audio reco- eh’ngDT–dhh! Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head… hhh– Head Ar… Archivistofthe- hk’ZSHHieuhh! Goddamn it!”

There’s a timid knock at the door, and it takes everything Jon has not to throw something at it. Letting out a low groan, Jon clicks the tape off and calls out, “Come in, Martin.”

As expected, the door swings open to reveal Martin with a collection of boxes stacked in his arms. He seems to hesitate slightly in the doorway, futilely attempting to control the concern and worry lacing his features.

“S-sorry to bother you, I was just looking over some of these files and had a few questions about the research you asked me to do- oh, but you’re recording and I should have checked and I’m-”

Jon sighs loudly, cutting off Martin’s rambling. “It’s fine. I was… taking a break. What are the questions?”

Martin starts off on them, most of which are fairly trivial and Jon finds his headache beginning to grow. He manages to sneak a couple of silent stifles, passing them off with a light cough or simply timing them when Martin’s preoccupied.

“Martin-” Jon finally interrupts, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. He can pass it off as the headache that he does have, but he can’t help but admit it might have more to do with the blooming tickle. After a pause he continues, “make a list of the questions. Tim and Sasha can handle most of them, and the ones they can’t I’ll answer or pass on for Elias to answer.”

“Oh, r-right!” Martin stutters, gathering up the boxes into his arms again and heading for the door. He pauses, once again lingering at the entrance.

“Is there somethh… something else?” Jon asks, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. The tickle is growing unmanageable, and he has mere minutes to get Martin out of his office.

Martin’s still standing, fidgeting with the boxes as he seemingly builds up the courage for something. Irritating at the best of times, of which these are decidedly not. Jon can’t help but sigh, though he does notice a slight shudder run through Martin at the sound.

He can’t linger on this however, as the sigh pushes his nose over the edge and he finds himself ducking into his wrist for a tightly contained- “hk’nGDT!”

“Oh, bless you Jon!” Martin says. Apparently able to form words now. Perfect timing.

“Thank you, do excuse me. Now, are you just planning to wait in my office for the remainder of the workday?”

The tone is harsh, and he knows it. There’s a pang in his chest as Martin’s face falls for a moment, but Jon quickly crushes it. He’s wasting time, and lord knows they don’t have enough of that to spare. They should both be working. The tone is warranted.

Despite this, Jon finds himself softening slightly when he speaks again. “Is there anything further I can help you with, Martin?”

“N-no, not really, just the questions, I’ll make the list like you said,” Martin rambles, still not moving towards the hall. Jon raises an eyebrow, not missing the way Martin blushes slightly.

“O-okay… well… yes, there is… well-”

“hk’gNDt–dhh! Excuse me.”

“Bless you, that’s actually- that’s uh, that’s actually what I wanted to…” Martin trails off, setting the boxes on the ground and rummaging through one of them. He produces a box of tissues along with a handful of travel packs, and Jon curses Tim under his breath.

“So I take it Tim told you to… t-to… hk’nGT–dh! Excuse me. Tim told you to bring those?”

Martin mumbles a blessing, but lets Jon finish his sentence otherwise uninterrupted. There’s another awkward silence as Martin stands frozen, eyes wide as he seems to be running through a million possible answers in his head.

“He- he did mention something, yeah,” The answer finally comes, Martin blushing slightly again as he places the box on Jon’s desk. “But um… well, you’ve also been- it’s uh, it’s not exactly been… subtle?”

The tone pitches up towards the end, and Jon feels the heat begin spreading over his own face in return. He wants to say something, make some form of denial, but… he’s not an idiot. And at this point, denial might be a bit out of reach.

Case in point, Jon finds his breath catching again, his mouth falling open slightly. Martin takes notice of this, and timidly holds out a travel pack, offering a warm smile that Jon merely glimpses as his eyes begin to flutter closed. He accepts them, weighing the embarrassment of accepting help with the mortification of letting this fit out into his hands.

“Thankyou-” Jon manages, breathy and high, before he ducks into his stapled hands, tissues pressed in them.

“hH’nDGt–dhh! hk’gnDXt–uhh! Excuse me. Oh god… I’m gon- gonna… hH’DZSHHhuhh! eh’zzZSHhhh’oo! hH’DZSHhhuh!”

The last of the fit breaks free, and Jon finds himself blushing behind his hands.

“Bless you a lot, Jon, Christ. Are you alright?”

“I’b fide-” Jon starts, still from behind his wall of tissues. There’s no point in attempting any discretion now, and he gives Martin an apologetic glance before swivelling in his chair and blowing his nose. It barely helps the itch, but it does help reduce some of the congestion before he speaks again.

“I’m fine. Please do excuse me, that was-”

“Quite the show!” Martin interrupts, laughter beginning to seep into his tone. It doesn’t feel cruel, nor does it even carry the tone of mocking Jon had grown so accustomed to from Tim. This laughter feels… almost light. As if he’s included in the joke, instead of being the subject of it. Despite himself, Jon feels the hint of a smile ghost his face.

No. It’s unprofessional, and… he has to be mocking him… just, he’s better at hiding it. That's worse than Tim's blatant lack of respect. At least he doesn't pretend to... to care.

“I suppose. Now, back to work,” Jon says, letting the ice dip into his voice.

Martin blushes a bit, beginning to stammer again, “R-right, of course, well I just- I mean, I didn’t mean- I’m just- I don’t want to pry but… I wasn’t- uh, are you sure you’re fit to work right now…?”

The question is almost whispered, Martin’s voice dropping off in what might be… concern? Jon finds himself biting down the urge to reply. To tell Martin that no, he’s not fit to work, he needs to go home, and that he just feels… miserable, to put it frankly. But no, it isn’t concern. It’s… pity. It has to be pity.

“I am fine,” Jon begins, standing from his chair. “I am more than fit to continue my work, and more than that I am capable of continuing to act as your boss. This is nothing I can’t hahh– hH’NdXGt–dhh! Nothing I can’t handle.”

Martin whispers a blessing, but goes a bit pale while doing so. Jon feels that familiar pang start in his chest, the one that says… maybe you went too far. Honestly, he’s not even sure why Martin brings that out of him. Tim mocks him all the time, Sasha even can cast a glance and throw a joke but… somehow when it’s Martin it just…

“S-sorry, you’re right, I’m sorry-” Martin’s rambling cuts through Jon’s thoughts just in time for him to see Martin beginning to walk into the hall.

“No, I’m sorry Marti-” Jon starts, but finds it comes out merely a whisper. The door closes, and he hears Martin’s footsteps retreating down the hall.

Well, that’s that. Jon grabs a handful of tissues, choosing the box Martin had brought for… well because it’s closer. That’s why. That’s the only reason why.

He blows his nose a few times, letting out another stray “hH–dnGt’uh!” into the soft folds. After a few rounds of this, he clears his throat, and finds the quality satisfactory. He still sounds a bit rough around the edges, but on such an old device you should hardly be able to tell.

Clicking on the tape again, Jon starts the statement over from the beginning. Again. He pointedly ignores the guilt beginning to fester in his chest, devoting himself entirely to the recording. He was merely being the boss, doing what he needed to do. Martin was speaking out of turn, and had to be reminded of such.

Still… he makes a mental note to thank Martin for the tissues next time he sees him. Suppose maybe he’s not entirely useless after all.

“Right, now then,” Jon says, grabbing his papers and placing the recorder in front of him.

“Statement of Elyse Willams regarding unusual activity in her attic. Original statement given March 21st, 2011. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London. Statement begins.”

#waterfallasks #waterfallwrites #thank you for the request!! i dont think this is exaaactly the same as what you asked for #but i had the ideas and wanted to write this so i hope i still managed to get enough of what you were looking for!!#dust allergy j/on is such a beloved of mine like AUGH!! he absolutely WOULD wouldnt he~ insert dreamy sigh here~#snz #snzfic #snz fic #snzkink #snzblr #the m/agnus a/rchives

25 notes · View notes

enoughyi · 8 months ago

Text

#1: Double Shot Morning Kiss

Ship: Imelda Reyes x f!MC (Julia Wright) x Poppy Sweeting

Summary: Some mornings are easier to figure than others but some mornings are better be figured out sooner than later, Julia thought and said to Poppy after catching a nasty cold from Imelda. Poppy sneezed but agreed, yet not a hint of regret on her raspy voice.

Prompt Number: 1. "Good morning" kiss. [>>>link to the list]

Word count: 416. Rating: G.

A/N: It's brainrot-powered. Characters are in their 20's.

What will I not do to procrastinate a little before yanking backwards to the uni project. Even if it's morning and I barely woke up. Hee hee.

Tags: @espressoristretto-patronum @thriftstorebabayaga

Sometimes Julia was a little stuck thinking, figuring out the morning exchange when it was just her and Poppy was a lot more easier. Peck on the lips, cuddles, and later, a coffee-smeared chin after they would forget for a hot minute, they had any responsibility after breakfast.

After Imelda, homely and inceasingly lovely, came to their lives, the change in exchange she had brought began to leave Julia wondering how is one person able to turn every morning an unforgettable, nearly conversational, demanding routine.

Cuddle with Poppy, chirpy and giggly, under the covers to later feel slight movements around the waist and slowly raise the upper hand to meet Imelda's cheek and quietly invite her to kiss them both? hear and feel her smile on the skin? hug her, until it's her teeth for the lips?

After an early wake, sit in the kitchen and ready up the breakfast to have them both a hearty meal and a smooch? Poppy will return it, then asking to sit beside her so she can sillily intertwine their fingers under the table? Imelda will grab by hand and show how it's done properly, smirking across the table, "Gulp before I get to you, Pops"?

Lightly hum and press on Imelda's grapply hand, asking for her less-than-sleepy head to finally up from the pillow and say, "Morning"? and when she growls, cling to her and notice Poppy doing the same? until Imelda, tired of these women silly antic before the clock would tick with day's long hours, grabs them in an embrace and leaves no space free of kisses on their foreheads?

Three mornings from tenfolds, from hundredfolds of accumulated days they spent together -- from thousandfolds of those they will live.

Of that, Julia was sure and certain, preparing coffee and hearing the two sets of light and heavy footsteps from behind; the one being Imelda's cue slippers (they almost glided on the wooden floors), the other were Poppy's garden boots, clicking on the planks as she went.

You'd think, should be different, their choices. Julia noticed it, too, and suspected Imelda's footwear will change soon, because the only things keeping her from wearing her usual attire of strictly practical clothes were a rare hint of laziness on a dour day and -- an illness.

There was little to wonder when the next day Julia felt incredibly weak and looked at the thermometer, realised they all wished each other a long week of influenza with that Double Shot Morning Kiss.

#J. writes: requests #J. writes: a short form / drabbles #imelda reyes x f!mc x poppy sweeting #imelda x poppy #imelda reyes x poppy sweeting #imelda reyes x f!mc #poppy sweeting x f!mc #hogwarts legacy #wlw #J. writes: Kissy Throuple Stuff series

18 notes · View notes

surielstea · 5 months ago

Text

“Forgive me, Darling.”

Based on this request.

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Rhys undermines Reader in front of the Hewn City, Reader makes him grovel before she accepts his apologies.

A. Note: This was really an excuse for me to write some Rhys smut… RhysandWeek got to me I fear, half of it is smut so enjoy 😼🙏

4.7k words

It was an effort to sit next to the High Lord tonight. Even with Winter Solstice so steadily approaching we couldn't stop being at each other's throats for the past week. The others in the Inner Circle were sick of our tedious bickering by now, and the rest of the Court might as well be too.

It was clear to the citizens of the Hewn City that we weren't getting along the best when we sat in our own separate thrones, while I typically opted to sit in Rhys' lap or he on the armrest while I took the main throne.

But it was the citizens of the Hewn City themselves that had cleaved our relationship right in two. While I was a natural sympathizer for these people, Rhys seemed to have half a thought about their well-being.

It drove me mad how easily he could cherish and love something, then turn around and loathe something else with the same fierceness. It was manipulative and vexing.

"Your grace," Keir drawled with a low bow and Rhys lifted a brow at Morrigan's poor excuse of a father.

"What is it?" The High Lord mused, the perfect mask of bored coldness in his violet eyes.

"The court was wondering if you'd be donating to the gift drive this season, all funds would go directly to the orphaned children of course," Keir said with a tone that sent shivers down my spine.

Rhys opened his mouth to say no, but I spoke first. "Of course Keir. We're not monsters," I say, tossing my mate a lethal glare.

"Are you mad? No," He looked to Keir. "I will not be donating, but you can tell them their queen will have a heavy chunk coming from her paycheck," Rhys bit back and the verbal assault immediately bruised her, tearing her down for speaking over him in a place like this was one thing but, in front of Keir? Using him as a device to get under my skin? It was a new level of low.

I bit back a snarl. "You're both insufferable," I stand. "And you bore me," I step down the dais with a careful queenlike elegance that came with only decades of practice. "I'm going home, perhaps finish some last-minute gift shopping," I shrug, my black gown shimmering like the stars in the sky with each move I made.

"I'll join you momentarily," Rhys said with a hand up as if to pause me. I didn't wait for him to finish before I winnowed back to Velaris, alone.

I was born in the Hewn City, and though I knew it was best if Rhys put on a mask in front of that court, it was hard to watch my mate who had one of the biggest hearts I'd ever seen be so cruel, be exactly what those citizens had expected him to be. A monster. A shiver went down my spine at the thought. It was a part of my role as High Lady to back whatever Rhys decided, but it was a part of his role to do the same with me. And when it came to the children of the Hewn City I drew the line, they had done no wrong, and half of them were too young to even realize that their king was a halfbreed, much less why that meant he was seen as lesser. They were innocent, doomed for failure since the beginning because of who their parents were. I sympathized with the orphans and knew exactly how much a donation would've mean to me because I used to be one of them.

Rhys winnowed into the sitting room, writhing shadows feathering off of his dark tunic as he whirled towards me, brows drawn.

"What'd you do that for?" He frowns at me and I mirror it.

"Children Rhys? Should I even dare ask when it might end?" I prop my hands up on his hips and he sighs, rubbing at his eyes.

"You know how I handle those things, I tell Keir no and then donate anonymously," He explained, annunciating every word like I was hard of hearing. The tone set me off. He was right, that's how we did it every year for solstice since Rhys became High Lord.

But tonight was my breaking point after weeks of needless arguments. "Yes, Rhysand. I know." I grit my teeth and his frown deepens as he hears me use his full name, something I always did unconsciously when I wanted him out of my face.

"Then why did you say we'd donate?" He lifts a brow and my shoulders are practically up to my ears with the tension building.

"Because, Rhysand, I'm so sick of you pretending to be someone that you're not," Again, the name makes him flinch. "I know how much you're capable of loving, and I understand you trying to protect us but I can't bear seeing you so ruthless to those people," I explain and he lets out a long sigh.

"You don't seem to understand the impossible situation I'm in." He closes his eyes, needing to rest them if only for a moment.

"What don't I understand?" I grab his jacket, gently gripping it as I stare up at him. "I've been beside you every step of the way, talk to me Rhysand. Or this isn't going to work," I gesture between us and his back shoots ramrod straight, at the underlying threat of taking a break from each other. He loathed the idea, and would rather argue for the rest of his life with me than not have me in his life at all.

"Don't say stuff like that," He murmured, his voice clipped like he couldn't quite breathe right.

"Then think twice before undermining me in front of a male like Keir," I scowl. "Hewn City or not, you're not allowed to silence me." I brush past him, my shoulder ramming into his bicep as I stalk down the hall to our bedroom, shutting the door with a resounding thud, but Rhys remains pinned in the same spot, cursing himself over and over again for his foolish behavior.

Over the next few days, Rhys had done everything in his power to apologize. Giving me countless gifts, and heartfelt monologues about how sorry he was, he even donated a good portion of his gold to the Hewn City orphanage. But I didn't forgive him, because I was certain he had yet to understand how much this truly meant to me. Besides, a small part of me liked watching him grovel.

At dinner with the rest of the inner circle later that evening, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Rhys had reached for my hand beneath my table twice now and I shook him off both times. We had both silently agreed on pretending everything was normal between us in front of the others, not wanting to worry them about the health of their high lady and lord relationship. So I put on a mask, as he often did, and pretended everything was fine.

"I'll see you in a few days for solstice eve," I hum as Morrigan gives me a hug while standing halfway out the door in the cold.

"I got you an amazing gift!" She beamed while backing away and I gave her an incredulous look. There was no arguing that Morrigans gifts weren't unique and personalized, but they were far from amazing.

"I'm sure you did," I hum. "Goodnight, Mor," I lean against the archway of the foyer and she gives me a wave before slipping out the door. Once everyone was officially gone I turned back to the sitting room where Rhys was sitting, staring at me curiously like I was a thing to be analyzed. "What?" I bark, my smile dropping.

"You keep calling me Rhysand," He stands from his seat, looking at me with furrowed brows, his wings drooping slightly, nearly dragging on the floor as he strides towards me but stops an arm's length away.

"That's your name, is it not? Or would you like to argue about that as well?" I arch a brow and his frown deepens.

"No, I just— It's Rhys. It's always been Rhys between us, in fact, you're the reason everyone calls me Rhys." He claims and I cross my arms over my chest, narrowing my gaze on him.

"This is what has been bothering you? This? Out of everything that has been going on, me saying your full name has gotten under your skin the most?" I scowl, unbelieving of his childish behavior.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, defeated.

"I know," I state.

"Then why?" His voice wavers. "Why can't I be forgiven?" He takes another step forward, nearly closing the distance between us if it weren't for his height.

"Because I don't think you've learned your lesson yet." I snarl and his brows crease, his familiar violet eyes glazing over.

"No please, I have darling," He cups my cheeks in his hands. "I have. I'm sorry." His hands were so gentle when holding my face as if I might break if he was any rougher.

I debated giving in for a moment, if only because my desire to feel his lips on mine again would be comparable to heaven— but I stayed strong, my own pride willing me to break away from his touch. "I know," I repeat, before walking down the hall and into our bedroom, closing the door behind me loud enough for him to get the hint that I didn't want to see him again that night.

A few days had passed and it was solstice eve, I was in the midst of getting ready for bed when there was a soft knock on my door. I didn't turn when the door opened, I knew who it was before he was even down the hall.

Rhys doesn't say anything, just stares as I take out my earrings and unlace my dress. I didn't mind him looking as I stripped down and changed into a soft, midnight blue nightgown, perhaps I was rubbing in the fact that he couldn't have me. Once I was finished I walked over to my vanity and began to comb through my hair.

"I can feel you staring, Rhysand." I finally spoke and I swore he growled at the name. I ignore it. He pushes off the doorframe and enters the room.

"What can I do it make it better?" I turn towards him to find him directly behind me, looking down at me with beseeching eyes. "I'm begging you," He whispers, our proximity so close that his nose was brushing against mine.

"You're begging me?" I raise a brow.

"Gods, yes darling. Do you want me to get on my knees and plead?" He suggests and I just stare at him as a reply, waiting.

His brows raise a fraction when he realizes I'm serious, and I cross my arms impatiently. It takes him a moment, but eventually, he drops down onto his knees.

His hands come to my hips and he looks up at me, his chin propped up on my stomach as he lets out a soft, "Please."

"Please what?" I place my hands on his shoulders, one of them finding its way into his dark, midnight-black hair.

"Please, forgive me." He murmurs. "Please, don't make us take a break." He continues, his hands on my hips tightening slightly. "And please, let me love you the way you deserve."

He had once told me he'd only ever fall to his knees for his crown, yet here he was, bending for me with only sincere affection in his eyes and regret forever making me feel like he deserved this.

I grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him up, crashing his lips onto mine. I kiss him, deeply, with the passion and desire that had been building up for the past week. I had forgotten how addictive he was and didn't realize how badly I needed him until he leaned into the kiss and filled the gaping void inside of me with warmth.

"I missed you so damned much, darling," He sighs and I smirk against his lips.

"Yeah?" I slip from his grasp and take a seat on the bed. "Why don't you come over here and show me?" I purr, letting my legs fall open as he prowls towards me and again, gets down onto his knees.

I smile devilishly at him as he begins kissing and nipping at my thighs, beginning to make amends with his mouth rather than words.

His covetous hands slip beneath my short nightgown, gripping my hips and pulling me to the edge of the bed. I lay back onto my elbows, propped up enough to watch him as he made his way up my thighs.

Ever so gently, he pulls at my undergarments and I lift my hips for access so he can further slip the panties down my legs. With reverence his eyes flick down to my glistening core, then back up to my eyes, his gaze holding a certain emotion I don't think I've ever seen the High Lord hone before.

I nod my head and he wastes no time before placing an open mouth kiss to my folds, then dragging it through my slit in a slow, savoring lap. I let out a soft moan at the feeling of his warm tongue finding my clit with a languid stroke. My fingers weave into his hair as he begins to suck on the bundle of nerves, sending me into a spiral.

I looked down at him but he was already staring up at me. But once he sees my lustful expression he can't seem to control himself before he dips down and spears his tongue into me. I release a breathy moan at the intense feeling. How could I have ever robbed myself of this for so long? Gods it was evil the things he could do with that mouth.

His fingers dug into the flesh of my hips as he devoured me like a man starved, his tongue-twisting and curling against a sensitive spot that sent me closer to the edge. I was unable to stop myself from grinding up onto his face, and he let out a guttural groan as I did so, because he knew then that I wanted him, that he was making me feel this good.

I maintained eye contact with him as he continued to drive me wild, violet irises filled with both apologies as well as desire. He draws one of my legs over his shoulder to deepen his access and I pull at his hair.

"That's it, gods yes," I gripe as his tongue toys with the sensitive area nestled deep inside of me.

My head falls back to look up at the ceiling as he brings one of his hands down and his thumb begins to roll over my clit. I whimper at the stimulation, my toes curling as he begins rubbing tight circles. I buck my hips at the intense feeling and he groans against the feeling of me tugging on his hair, the sound reverberating up my spine. "That's my girl," He purrs as my release steadily approaches. "Come on my face, fall apart for me my darling," He says, his voice tender as he coaxes your climax to draw closer.

I couldn't deny his demand, my pleasure too high to even debate it. My peak reaches and with a cry, my body convulses and an intense wave of pleasure crashes through me. He supports me, his arms around my thighs grounding me, his eyes never leaving mine as he removes his tongue from my entrance and softly laps up my dripping folds, his mouth shimmering in my essence. But it was only pride in his eyes as I came down from my high that I recognized, pride and, something far more primal than human.

"I forgot how good you taste," He whispers against my core, cleaning every lost drop from me with his mouth.

Slowly, he backed away, licking his lips that were glistening in my arousal.

"I want to ride you," I confess and his brows shoot up with carnal desire. Yes, that was exactly what I wanted.

I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down onto the bed, his head falling into the pillows as I flipped over him and began working at the buttons of his shirt.

His hands joined mine, helping me by thrashing it off. I smile and attach my lips to his tanned skin, my tongue running over the lines of his tattoo while he frees himself from the confines of his pants. My mouth waters at the sight of his hard cock already leaking with need. I bite at my lower lip as I grip his length, spreading his pre and using it as a natural lubricant. I pumped him once, then twice. My grip was rough and tight, his head fell back into the pillows as he groaned in pleasure.

"Oh, my darling," He sighs out as I press my thumb to his sensitive tip.

His hands come to my thighs as I lift onto my knees and begin dragging his cock through my folds, prepping him for an easy entrance. I swore he got harder the moment my arousal met his.

He looked back at me, his eyes low-lidded. "You look like a goddess," He breathes, his voice husky with restraint. I knew he wanted to push me down onto him, to take dominance and flip me onto my back. But he reigned in his control and kept himself at bay for now.

I smile devilishly at him as I aligned his throbbing cock with my entrance. His eyes flicked down to the view and I froze. "Look at me," I direct and his violet eyes flick back up to my gaze, and I watch his expression as I sink myself down to him so very slowly, inch by inch.

His face contorts into a mix of pleasure and agony. "This is torture," He hisses, his fingers digging into my thighs in an effort to keep restraint. "Please, darling," He whispered the plea and I couldn't help but fold under his yearning gaze.

"Please what?" I say through a soft moan, the stretch of him painful at first yet turned into pure pleasure moments later.

"Please, take all of me and move, now baby," He pants out and I smirk.

"I'm barely halfway down and I've got you this worked up?" I tilt my head demeaningly and he lets out a low, guttural growl.

"You know exactly what you're doing to me, so please, you can take it," He begs and I smile.

"I know I can, but can you?" I murmur, tracing lines along his torso, following his dark tattoo.

"Oh I can," He sighs, his eyes glinting with amusement and I realize he wasn't strained from needing more, he was in agony because his control was thinning. "But if you don't take all of me right now, I'm going to flip us over and fuck you until we both forget our own names." He warns and I smirk, leaning forward— in doing so making him slip deeper inside of me, the new angle eliciting a soft moan from me.

"Is that right?" I purr, my nails trailing down the side of his neck.

"Last chance, baby." His jaw feathers. "Sit down or I'm taking over," He snarls, gripping my hips tighter, prepared to make true of his threat. I smile, leaning closer and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

I do as he says anyway, not wanting to take any chances. I let gravity make my last movement and allow myself to take all of his length, every last inch until he was fully sheathed inside of me and I was seated on him fully.

He lets out a long, deep moan, his head falling back into the pillows. "Gods, such a good girl," He praises, taking a few deep breaths and regaining his control.

Slowly I begin to rock my hips back and forth over him and he jerks at the movement, his hands tightening on my thighs as he begins to guide me over him, showing me exactly how fast he wanted me to go.

He lets out a string of curses as I set a pace, rolling and grinding over him, my thighs already burning with the movements. "Keep your eyes on me, yeah?" he says and I nod, as he slowly lifts me up on him, then pushes me back down, sending me into a rhythm. I began to bounce up and down on him, his thick length burrowing deep inside of me with each descent.

I keep eye contact with him, tears welling in mine as he lifts me faster, my breasts bouncing with the movement, and his captivating eyes don't miss it. "So beautiful," He whispers softly, his voice hoarse and strained as a string of moans escapes me.

"You like that baby?" He purrs, his gaze only sultry. I reply with a moan and a wicked smile forms over his lips as he pushes me to go faster, slamming me down into his hips, his tip brushing over my cervix.

He was enjoying this far too much, he was savoring the way I sounded, the way my body reacted. So desperate for a second release. I lean down, changing the angle and allowing him to hit my most sensitive point with the thick head of his cock.

"Gods, you feel so good wrapped around me like this," He purrs, his breath hot against my neck as his canines scrape against it.

I continue to fuck myself on him, my vision blurring as he abuses that sacred spot inside of me. "I'm close," I grunt, clenching my hands into fists as he spears into me, lifting his hips to help me reach that high.

"Yeah? Going to come, love?" He purrs into the shell of my ear and I nod, tears now slipping down my cheeks despite all my efforts to be in control.

"Yes, I can't control it much longer," I mewl, burying my nose into the crook of his neck.

He smiles, wrapping his arms around me. "That's okay, come for me darling," He allows and I find release, I finally meet my second orgasm.

"Rhys," I moan loud enough for the next room over to hear. Not Rhysand, but Rhys. The male's length twitches at the sound he so desperately had been needing to hear for the past week.

He didn't let me come down from my high for even a moment as he flipped me over onto my back, taking full control as he guided my legs up to my sides, folding me into a mating press.

"I'm not done with you yet, darling," He drawls huskily and my heart pounds against my ribs hard.

He pulls out to his tip and for a moment I'm gifted a kernel of relief, but it quickly ended when he pushed into me, spearing hilt deep as his heavy balls slapped into my ass. Arousal dripped down my thighs as he continued the movement and I turned into a moaning mess.

"You're so tight," He grunted out between thrusts. "Say my name again," He orders and I open my teary eyes to see him above me, his dark wings spread over us. Gods, he looked like a fucking devil like this. "Rhys," I plea and he smiles wolfishly.

"That's my girl, taking me so well," He praises, continuing to piston inside my puffy, overstimulated cunt.

He reaches down and I swear my heart stops as he makes contact with my pink clit. I whimper, my bottom lip wobbling as he pushes me towards yet another orgasm. "Come on baby, squeeze my cock," He demands and I writhe beneath him, clenching every inch of his length as he brushes my cervix repeatedly. His words and groans are a constant stream of encouragement as I hurtle toward my third orgasm.

I let out a loud, broken cry as my climax rips through me, each one more intense than the last. "Please, please tell me you're close," I beg as he lets out a choked groan, his movements becoming more and more erratic as control slips from his grasp. "Fuck, I am baby, I'm close," He pants out and I mewl his name desperately.

"Rhys, Rhys," I murmur like a chant, my mind too fucked out to think of anything else, just him.

"Look at me, I want you to watch while I come inside of you." He purred and my stomach twisted at his filthy words. My hands come around to his shoulders and I dig my nails into the muscle, clawing them down his back at the intense, unrelenting thrusting.

With a feral, desperate groan he buries his nose into my neck and finds his release, his warm seed spilling inside of me. He shakes and trembles at the weight of his climax, he collapses down onto me, his body heavy and spent. His face was still buried in my neck as he regained his breath. "Fuck, I love you so much," He confesses as the sounds of our breathing fill the room.

"I love you, too," I whisper hoarsely, my voice shot from screaming his name. He nuzzles into my neck, placing gentle kisses along my collarbone slowly guiding my legs down and pulling from my entrance. "I'm sorry baby, I know you wanted to be in control but I— I can't help myself around you," He murmurs and I smile, pulling him into me for a loving kiss.

"Don't apologize, felt so good," I murmur tiredly. "Maybe we should argue more often," I add and he frowns at the idea and I giggle. "I missed you."

His eyes light up with pure adoration. "I missed you too," He hums, easing into the bed beside me and gathering me into his arms. "Now let's get you cleaned up."

The rush of solstice has passed and everything has returned to normal— well, almost everything.

The Court of Nightmares was teeming with its usual negative energy, the air thick with it. I had been seated in my own throne again, not quite ready to take up Rhysand’s lap in front of all the subjects again.

“My Lord,” Keir bowed low before the dais, then turned to me and gave me a simple bow of his head. Rhys gripped the arms of his throne at the action but remained calm all the same.

“What?” The high lord snarled.

“The price of the renovations of the homes in the slums are steadily increasing, to something far greater than what we can afford with the money you’ve so graciously given.” He hums and I sit up. I grew up in the slums, I would’ve taken a man’s life for the opportunity to proceed with the renovation plans I had given Rhys a few days ago, would’ve taken a lot more than a life to give to that community, actually.

“Then we’ll triple the funds,” I state and Keir casts me a glance, then looks back to Rhys. I wanted to rip his face off. I was seated on a throne before his people, I had the power to tear this entire court down and yet he treats me with such disrespect and contempt.

“Why are you still here?” Rhys asked the steward. “My High Lady has just answered your issue, did she not?” Rhys tilts his head with creased brows.

“Of course, my lord,” Keir bows to the male, and something in his spine locks and I know, know that Rhys’s talons had captured Keirs mind and was prepared to shatter it, until Keir turned to me and bowed at the waist, then lower, nearly falling to his knees.

“Dismissed.” Rhys hummed, waving his hand and releasing the males mind.

I smile as I watch him leave, and settled a little deeper into my throne. Oh, I liked this a little too much.

A flicker of Rhysand’s darkness curled caressed up my neck, to trace the contours of my jaw. I turn to look at him and give him a wicked smile, he mirrors it and we turn back to the Nightmare of a court we ruled over, together.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @hufflepuff-pa55 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks @cumuluscranium @adharanotfound @azrielsmate3 @aelincaddel @hiddlestonspassionsackx @dee-writes-smut @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @pit-and-the-pen @mybestfriendmademe @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @circe143 @bubybubsters @joshysloshy @username199945 @ivy-34 @notsarareallynot @vixenshiftsvrs @aurorab99 @pey2618 @loving-and-dreaming @mmg777 @andreperez11 @thatacotargirl @123345566 @one-big-fangirl @moonslitluna @imyherondale @salvawhxres @bookishbabyyyy @anuttellaa @breadsticks2004 @azriels-human @mamita-vera @demetercabingreen-thumb

Comment a “💙” to be added to the general taglist!

Comment a “🖤” to be added to the Azriel taglist!

555 notes · View notes

lemonflavoreddishsoap · 2 years ago

Note

Hello there!! Idk if I have already sent something in, but if I haven’t, I would love to request! May I please have the LS members’ (separate) reactions to a new member with “soulless” or “dead” eyes (basically like the anime eyes that have no shine in them), who always seems rather closed off, but at some point the members do something nice to them, and the reader blushes and their eyes just light up like the brightest stars? Sorry if this request is a lot! If it is you can ignore! But thank you so much! (I loved the housewife s/o HCs you wrote btw, they were lovely!) ❤️❤️

Ghiaccio pfp twinsies...woag- also i like this idea a lot!! this reader sounds absolutely wonderful <33 fair warning I wrote most of these while incredibly sleepy so if they're ooc that's probably why im so sorry-

------------------------------------------------------------

La Squadra with a reader who has soulless eyes (that light up when they're happy/flustered)

Formaggio

When he first saw you, he wasn't sure exactly how alive you were.

I mean, those empty eyes and the way you barely talked to anyone definitely had him raising an eyebrow at first.

But he quickly got used to it. Nothing was wrong with responding to a joke with a tiny smile instead of a hearty laugh.

In fact, with enough time, he grows rather comfortable around that blank stare of yours. He gives you your space, but whenever you do talk to him, he's more than happy to get the chance to hear your voice and chat.

One day, before you went out for a mission, Formaggio noticed you nearly forgot to bring something vital. He managed to catch up to you and give you the item before you left, but before he could say anything, he noticed your expression.

The color spread across your cheeks, and your eyes -Oh god, your EYES. It was like someone finally flipped on a light switch in them. They were full of life for once, and the sight had him speechless.

But- shit, right, you had to leave. With an absent-minded nod and pat on the shoulder, he began to walk away.

"No need to thank me," he shouted to you before he was out of sight - and it was true. The look on your face had been thanks enough.

Illuso

Definitely made fun of your empty eyes often. Like Formaggio he probably compares you to a zombie, but he is willing to say it out loud.

He tries to guess what your thinking and feeling all the time if you tend to not show emotion. Like he'd say things like "I bet you're pissed about that too, you just don't wanna show it."

But like. In an annoying way if that makes sense.

I'll be honest I can't think of what kind of nice thing he would do for you. This dude's section has haunted me for days, y'all.

But in the event of him doing nice for you, he notices your expression right away. boy is he surprised by it. and boy is he LOUD about it.

"Holy SHIT! You're actually alive! I managed to break that moody façade of yours?"

You might wanna walk away or hide your face before he calls the rest of the gang over to look.

Afterwards he's weirdly a bit nicer to you? He obviously wants to see your adorable expression again, but his exact intentions are unknown...

Prosciutto

Doesn't care in much of a usual way. If anything I think he would comment on how your hard to read expressions and closed off nature makes you good for the job.

So he never really bothers to think you may be any other way.

The two of you were set to go on a mission together, and he insisted you work on a concrete plan beforehand. It turns out his idea for the plan relies VERY heavily on your abilities/stand.

When you ask about it, he begins to talk about how strong your abilities are, and how perfect you would be for the job, how he has faith that you can pull it all off.

Your heart flutters at his words and with every compliment you feel heat rush to your face.

When he stops talking and notices how your eyes lit up, he's....genuinely unsure what to think.

It was all true, you were strong and the right person for the job, but we all know how he gets when he's working with someone he feels is a bit too vulnerable cough cough pesci

He doesn't worry about it for the time being - it's a one time thing after all - but he keeps an eye out for if it happens again.

Pesci

I think he is used to people thinking he looks strange/creepy, so even it might creep him out a bit, he tries to be nice about your soulless face.

Gives you your space, but this boy is sweet, it won't take long for him to do something that makes the darkness in your eyes fade away.

idk why my first thought for the moment is him baking something new and asking you to try it. You have a taste and quickly nod in approval, it's delicious.

Relieved, Pesci proceeds to let you know he made it because he remembered you mentioning [insert flavor here] was your favorite flavor. Yep, that'll do it.

He's incredibly caught off guard, seeing your eyes twinkle with appreciation - for a second he thinks you're about to cry! He stands there, unsure what to do, until either the interaction ends or you say something to him.

Is so overwhelmed afterwards no matter what happens - was that really the real you? That sweet face was really yours?

Melone

It literally doesn't matter to him - he can see right through your dead look. It's uncanny.

You could be completely stone-faced and he would find some way to be able to tell exactly how you feel about something. He'll tell you his predictions too to see if their right.

I imagine it's one of these moments that actually leads to him seeing that cute expression of yours.

It started with "you found that hilarious, didn't you?"

He was playing his guessing game again, and like every time before, he was right. You didn't even have to answer.

"You know, you're so interesting to read. You have all these little tells for every small thought, and I think you subconsciously change them a bit every time I take notice of them!" He suddenly began explaining to you.

But it didn't stop there, he began to tell you all about how he picked apart your body language, how he noticed changes in your emotions over the entire time he's known you. "You're.... fascinating to watch."

It's not until he finishes talking that you both realize you've been staring at him with a completely uncharacteristically bright look of wonder. Then it's his turn for his face to light up, pointing at the blush on your cheeks.

"So you do like how I watch you! I knew it."

Ghiaccio

"The hell are you giving me that look for!?"

Of COURSE he takes it personally a lot - especially if you're supposed to be listening to his rambling. He isn't exactly thinking straight, so he just thinks your blank stare is some kind of insult.

But beyond that, it's rare he'll get on your ass about it.

Over time, I think he might even find you a reliable person to spew all his ranting at, if you don't complain at him or cause a fuss.

Maybe even at some point, perhaps if you've been getting picked on especially hard by Illuso, he'll ask if you have any ranting to do.

"What!? That prick has got to be getting on your nerves, doesn't that make you- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GIVING ME THAT FACE FOR!?"

You're gonna have to end up explaining yourself or else he won't stop asking you. When you do, he'll scoff, saying he barely did anything. At least you won't have him blabbing about it to the others, you both know it would get real annoying real quick.

If you specifically ask him to keep it secret, he'll nod, and you swear you see him smile at you.

Risotto

This man also looks pretty damn unapproachable (love him tho <3). He has the least amount of problems with how you are.

Like Prosciutto, he thinks your closed off nature is good for the job. But he never brings up that sometimes he wishes you were a little more open.

One day you return from a mission. It went smoothly. Enough. Okay, you had managed to get the deed done, but you had gotten injured in the process. In order to not endure lecturing from any of your teammates, you quickly dismissed everyone's questions about the mission and looked for things to treat your wound with, hiding it from everyone else.

In the middle of hastily wrapping up the bloody injury, you felt a hand on your shoulder, and soon after you head Risotto's voice. He warned you that you weren't treating the wound carefully enough.

He didn't scold you- a scolding wasn't going to help the sting and the crimson staining your skin. No, he asked if he could take care of the wound for you.

You felt your face heat up as he helped you, but although you were sure he noticed the look on your face, he made no mention of it. Just tended to your wound, and told you to tell him about any issues with a mission next time.

Afterwards you two agreed you would give him specifics later. You thanked him and that was that.

Walking away from you, Risotto replayed your expression in his mind....how cute.

#i am being serious about the illuso bit btw.#main reason this request took me so much longer than I had hoped #it was driving me insane. i was seeing him everywhere. if i have to write for him again ill go insane /j #im fine im fine keep sending in requests including illuso as much as you like #just be aware i may get haunted for several days /j #also i wrote several of those at like 11 pm gahh #the grind...never stops...zzz...#formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #ghiaccio x reader #risotto x reader #jjba x reader #la squadra #la squadra x reader

266 notes · View notes

joshfutturman · 4 months ago

Text

ੈ♡˳ imagine clapton davis is your boyfriend

♡ he offers you riding lessons, taking you out to the skatepark when the sun is high in the sky. he's packed snacks and created a playlist specifically for your hangout. clapton is gentle with you, making sure you're comfortable and he only makes fun of the way you wobble on the board half of the time.

♡ every year on your anniversary he makes you a mixtape with brand new songs, each one with a special meaning. he wants to be there when you listen to it so he can explain the meaning to you, rambling on endearingly about memories he has of you both over the songs.

♡ clapton davis isn't shy, but when it comes to his sketchbook? he's tried to hide it from you so many times. little do you know he sketches you when you're too preoccupied with college work to notice. one day he sits you down and hands you his sketchbook in silence, his cheeks flushed beetroot red.

♡ if you need him? he'll be there. it's late at night, one of those nights where you know you need comfort. clapton is over in a heartbeat, skating as fast as he can until he climbs in awkwardly through your window with his backpack filled with essentials. music, snacks and earphones for you to share.

♡ he's carved your initials onto the deck of his favourite board so that you can be there with him on every ride.

♡ when he first tells you he loves you, you're on the front of his board as he pushes you both along. he's too shy to say it to your face, this is as close as he can get with his breath against your neck. you can feel his flush, the heat emanating from him. you think it's the sweetest thing in the world. you stop the board with one foot and turn to him, telling him you love him as you stare into those stupid big hazel puppy dog eyes.

jhutch promptober day 3 - skateboard

108 notes · View notes

midnight-mourning · 2 months ago

Text

What's This?

❄️❄️Midnight's DCA December Day 4❄️❄️

Sorry for the lateness! Busy few days and then realized I needed to take some time for myself and make something I enjoy, so finished this finally.

Prompt: Maybe someone teaching Moon what christmas is? My moon just recently became 'sentient' and so doesn't understand alot of things yet! So he'd have no idea what christmas is! I think it'd be cute. Doesn't have to be my Moon, of course. Just the idea that Sun hasn't told him for some reason, so someone else has to!

Word Count: 1239

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"And put the tinsel here, here, and here!" Sun directs, point to various locations around the Daycare.

You chuckle, but follow his orders.

The two of you were decorating for the holidays, and having found a box of decorations in the back of the Daycare's supply closet, Sun had gotten to work immediately. And had put you to work as well. Additionally, he had asked for you to order more supplies, wanting to spiff the place up as much as possible for the kids. He also mentioned wanting crafting materials for Christmas and holiday themed projects, so that was piled on to this order.

You think his request for 30 boxes of candy canes was a little excessive, but the rest had all been reasonable and within budget. So, using what you had, and what you now had, to really go all out.

You cut into another box, opening it to find fake holly and mistletoe, as well as a couple of wreaths.

"So, any particular reason for this excess cheer this year?" You ask, taking the supplies out and setting them in a pile on a nearby table.

At this, he clamps up for a moment, but then shakes his head. "Nothing specifically, it just seemed like a good opportunity! I needed ideas for the next few weeks for activities, why not do something to lift the holiday cheer!"

You think the answer was odd in its wording, but can't think of anything to say in response beyond, "Fair enough."

You're mid-decorating when the lights cut, as is usual for this time in the day.

Without looking up from organizing colored paper and pipe cleaners, you wave in Moon's direction, "Hey, bud. You also in the Christmas spirit?"

No answer.

You look up, and find Moon is entirely motionless. You would think he was powered off if not for the muted clicks and whirls you hear still emitting from him.

You frown. "Moon, you alright?"

"I, what..." He tilts his head, and looks around. "What is all of this? Is something happening? Is there some, odd, birthday party occurring today?"

Your brows furrow, "Well, no. This is, these are Christmas decorations. I mean, holidays overall, but mainly for Christmas."

He takes a step over to where tinsel is hung, picking it up between two fingers. His faceplate twists to the left, then the right. Then, he turns to you.

"...Christmas?"

Now you're the one who's confused.

"I, you mean, how do you—" You stop. "Moon, you don't know what Christmas is?"

He shakes his head slow.

You clasp your hands in front of your mouth, eyes wide at the news.

When you don't say anything, Moon seems to become apprehensive, chuckling awkwardly, "Should, should I?"

Realizing yourself, you shake your head slightly. Taking a deep breath, you break out into a grin, clapping your hands.

"Oh, this is so fun! I can show you so many things and all the traditions. We can put up decorations together, watch movies, do some crafts, oh! We can bake cookies too! Though maybe that's not a good idea to do in the dark and—" You pause, noticing he's just staring at you completely lost. You clear your throat, speaking more slowly now. "Sorry, to answer your question, no not at all. I know you don't get a lot of exposure to everything, so it makes sense, though I don't know why Sun wouldn't—but ah, I'm so excited to tell you! If, if that's alright of course."

Moon tilts his head, and you're afraid you may have just overwhelmed him. You're about to apologize again when he laughs softly.

"I think I would like that, Star." There's a fondness to his words you can't place, it's gone when he seems to notice it himself. "If, you don't mind, that is."

You nod, eager, and can't help yourself as you rush over and take his hand, "I would be honored."

As you turn and lead him towards your grand pile of boxes and decorations, you don't know how fast his faceplate spins the moment after your hands make contact.

You sit down and pat the spot next to you with your free hand, Moon following your lead after a moment.

You shift so that you're sitting cross-legged across from him, and he does the same.

"Okay so..."

You start by explaining the origins of the holiday, what it means for different people, and how people celebrate depending on where they're from and such. You tell him all about every tradition you can think of, including the ones you personally do.

Along the way, you notice Moon's body language shift from apprehensive and confused, to curious, to invested in what you say. It in turn fuels your own excitement as he asks you polite questions every so often, and you deliver every answer with as much detail as you can.

You worry that you may be doing too much again though, so you mention such. "Sorry, I know this is a lot and I'm going super fast, I just, the holidays are really important to me you know?" Your voice grows soft and you look away, laughing shyly. "I um, I don't really get to spend them with many people anymore so I guess I just got super excited since we're friends and all. I'm probably boring you at this point aren't I? I can stop if this is a bit too much."

You start to feel embarrassment creep in. You'd been talking for ages now without stop, save for when he interjected every so often. For all you know Moon could be actually exhausted by how much you've had to say, it's kind of impossible to tell with that immobile faceplate of his.

Color you surprised you feel a hand under your chin, turning your face back up to look at his.

His eyes are narrowed gleefully, and his tone is soft as he gazes down at you.

"You could never bore me, Star." He tilts his head. "You know that, right?"

Your eyes dart to the side, "I, um, I guess not, but still you must be—"

You suddenly find his face taking up your entire field of vision. And, after a moment's hesitation, he quickly plants his grin to your lips, then pulls back. "Whatever you may be thinking, it's quite the opposite. Seeing you so passionate it, it's contagious, and if I could I would ask you to never stop."

Then, he looks away and folding his hands into his lap, making a sound similar to a cough. "Apologies I, I suppose I didn't know a better way to tell you then that. If you that was a step too far please, forgive me."

You however, are too busy trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck onto your face.

You clear your throat. "Moon?"

"Hm?"

"If that's your way of explaining things, I wish you'd have started it sooner." Before you can think on it further, you reach up and grab his collar, pulling him back down to kiss him again.

After a—much longer this time—kiss, you pull away, breathless.

For a moment, Moon doesn't say anything.

Then, "Perhaps now would be the time to ask you about hanging mistletoe around the Daycare?"

"I can think of a few good spots for it."

He chuckles, leaning in once more, "So can I."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thank you to @zenkaiankoku for the request! I thought it was super adorable ^_^ Tried to do a mix of your AU with it (which is real cool btw, was reading through it like this 👀👀 the entire time lol) as well :) also had to make Moon a bit lovesick, I feel like suddenly becoming aware of yourself but having someone so willing to guide you would make anyone just fall in love hehe

If you're interested in requesting, you have until 12/13 OR until I recieve 31 requests, currently only have 13 total so plenty of space for more! See here for more details, thanks for reading!

Masterpost link

Tag list (if you would like added, see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

@juukai @crystalmagpie447 @mothgutz236 @lizyxml

#moon being unaware of Christmas is such a cute concept actually like #as you can see #I enjoyed it :)#i hope people get the reference in the title #thought it was a fun riff hehe #fnaf dca #dca fandom #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf sun #fnaf moon #sundrop #moondrop #dca fic #x reader #MM dca december #writing requests #also i'm going out in like twenty minutes so I'll post day 5 day 6 and day 7 tomorrow lmaooo #nothing like writing fnaf fic and then IMMEDIATELY getting sloshed /j #this is a JOKE pls drink responsibility

77 notes · View notes