#a bedtime story

[angelsandemons]

@a-hell-of-a-time

Ever since Alfred began working for Stolas and Stella, his tasks had always been more focused on delivering things. Usually it was delivering things to one or both of the two Goetia. Sometimes it was something special, like rare plants for Stolas or extravagant ball invitations for Stella. Sometimes it was something more mundane, like a telephone with a call or a glass of water with ice. Once in a while, he'd be asked to deliver something from them to another party, but that was much more rare.

It became less so once Octavia was born.

Suddenly, he was hearing his name called by his masters more often—or 'Pringles' at any rate, it seemed like Stella had taken to that name as well—asking him to deliver things to the newest member of the family. Whether it was small pink mice or gentle pats on the back until one of the parents could get over to coo and fuss over her, it was always a very temporary thing. Stolas and Stella typically liked to be the ones feeding or cuddling her, particularly when she was just a hatchling. But as she grew, sometimes he was the sole delivery Imp for small things like food or toys. And of course, he helped take care of the less pleasant things, carious clean up that occurs when you have a young child in the house. But it was never anything of any real significance.

At least, until tonight.

When Stolas first asked him to read Octavia her bedtime story, all Alfred could do was stare back in confusion. He'd certainly delivered the book to Stolas often, but that was so he could read it to his daughter. Alfred had, admittedly, sometimes lingered by the door to listen when he could afford to, so he knew the story fairly well already. But to read it to the princess...

"Don't look at me like that" Stolas pleaded, returning Alfred's perplexed look with a pained one of his own. "I know she'll be disappointed. But Stella is out at one of her parties and I can't miss this." Tonight was apparently a particularly rare astronomical event that was frustratingly difficult to predict ahead of time, at least from what he understood. Alfred nodded and bowed, clutching the book to his chest. The prince let out a sigh of relief.

"Good. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Once Stolas was gone, Alfred hurried to Octavia's room, opening the door and closing it was habitually little noise, and walking over to see if the princess was already there waiting.

[oli-draw]

Time to play

A bedtime story

[greenbunny7]

A Bedtime Story, This, but it's the kids (and Soos) asking Grunkle Stan for a bedtime story

[theeroticlover]

Time to wake up hun !!

[chloesimaginationthings]

Abby could befriend any animatronic from FNAF..

[tankuare]

Ao3 just hit me with the error 503 idk how long I have

[valberryventi]

the morning after

summary: you want zayne to stay in bed with you for longer.

warnings: idk they're down bad for each other so it's implied sexytime. rated t if you squint

“Your eyes have specks of gold in them.”

“Oh, really?”

The sunlight streams through the curtains of Zayne’s room, falling softly on your entangled forms. Zayne runs his fingers through your hair slowly, deliberately, surely. His touch is gentle. You look up at him, fighting sleep in your mirth-filled eyes.

“Mhm.” You sigh, words falling out of your mouth before you could stop them. “Can’t tell if it’s gold and green… green and hazel, maybe jade…” You cup your lover’s cheek before pressing your thumb over his eyelids, and his breath hitches. “Just looks nice.”

He takes your wrist, presses his lips on your palm, and whispers, “How could you tell?”

Roses bloom on your cheeks. Flustered by the innocent gesture, you snuggle closer to his chest to cover your face. “Maybe I like your eyes, Zayne.”

You breathe in his scent. His cologne—cedarwood notes and a hint of leather, you think—hangs thick in the air. Your head spins, the scent reminding you of his discarded black button down, your lips on his neck, his hands holding down yours on the sheets…

Your heart thumps in your chest. You gulp, worried he’d notice your increased heartbeat through your skin.

Zayne chuckles, running his hand down your side and tracing circles on your hip. “Well, I like your eyes, too.”

You let out a breath, snaking your arm around his waist. You didn’t want to face him, not because your face felt hot, but because your control might slip from your fingers and never let him get out of the bed.

Not that you mind, really.

“Don’t hide from me.” You can almost hear him pout, his hand trailing up to your arm and purple-adorned neck before tucking your hair behind your ear. Your ear heats up from his fleeting touch. He then shifts his position to dip his head down to meet his lips with your forehead. “Will you show yourself to me?”

You shake your head, pressing yourself into him further. It isn’t that you haven’t shared moments like these before, no. You’ve slept together, multiple times, and yet you couldn’t resist feeling weak at the knees.

Last night wasn’t at all special. You ended work without any scratches on you. Zayne finished his shift too, and was able to pick you up afterwards. You had dinner together. You cuddled on the couch after your night routines. Two kisses turned into more, before making your way into the bedroom.

Normal, domestic, and yet he made you quiver.

“I don’t want to, I’m shy.” You mumble, lips dangerously near his collarbone. You feel his heart skip a beat. He’s remembering how you’ve made sure to place love bites right where you’re nuzzled.

“You’re shy?” He asks calmly, grazing his finger along your cheekbone and softly touching your lower lip. You stiffen, feeling your senses heighten at his icy—yet fiery—touch. “How could you be shy now? You weren’t shy at all when you moaned my name last night–”

“Hey!” You pout, smacking his back and looking up at him. He smiles down at you with eyes so lovestruck, you forget any semblance of a comeback on your tongue.

Finally showing your face to him again, he places another kiss on your forehead. “There you are, my aurora.”

You feel your face tingle as he peppers kisses on you. “Zayne,” you giggle, flailing your arms a bit, “that tickles.”

He continues through it, your laughter filling the room. He rolls you both over as he presses you against the bed with more of his love. You squeal when his lips finally meet yours in a soft kiss, his arms caging you under him.

After a while, you gasp for breath when his tongue darts out to graze your bottom lip. “Wait, Zayne…”

He pauses as he takes a breath too, jade green eyes scanning your face. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, no.” You shake your head, averting your gaze. You don’t realize you’ve been tracing the scars on his back. "I don't think you could ever hurt me."

The clock on your bedside reads 6:00AM—you should be out of bed already. You almost shrink when you ask the inevitable: “It's just... aren’t you going to work?” 

You almost wanted to plead, but with his nature of work and yours, you couldn’t be glued together all the time. It’s just been a while since you shared an intimate moment like this with him, and if you could freeze time, you would.

“Work?” He runs his thumb over your cheek, “I am working. I have a patient to take care of at home.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I’m not in pain.”

“You have hickeys, which are bruises, on your neck. You also said you can’t feel your legs when we washed up last night.”

“Whose fault is that, then?”

“Apologies.” He looks away, embarrassed. “Let me take care of you.”

You chuckle, cupping his cheek. He looks back at you with those gold-speckled eyes of his, and he immediately nuzzles his face into your palm. “I love you,” you sigh.

Like a blizzard of emotions slowing into falling snow, Zayne brings you into a mind-melting kiss. His hands linger here and there as both your hearts beat in unison. There is no sign of stopping now, not when he whispers "I love you," back into your skin.

Normal.

Perhaps mornings like these constitute what normal should look like. No one watching your movements, no responsibilities. Just you and your lover spending time together without a care in the world—and it’s all that you could ask for.

🪐: hope you enjoyed! i finally got to finish this after whatever the fuck happened in my final semester. jesus

[jonnywaistcoat]

I have several friends who’ve fallen asleep listening to you read statements in Magnus. And I mocked them until I also fell asleep listening to the Magnus archives (on my re-listen though not the first time round).

Have you encountered people using the archives as bedtime stories before?

And have you ever considered reading other things (e.g the original fairytales) purely for that purpose?

I'm sorry to have to break it to you, but falling asleep to podcasts, audiobooks, etc. is extremely normal and a very common way to listen. I'm told I have a good voice for it (which I choose to take as a compliment) and while I don't have anything deliberately designed to be soporfhic, I have recorded a couple of small collections of old ghost stories that I'm told are very good for the purpose.

[zushwood]

[compaculaaa]

When stories aren’t enough✨

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[dragengyrr]

Goodnight, everyone.

[weirdlookindog]

From Bedtime Stories Vol.5 #12, October 1937

source

[sophsun1]

Interview With The Vampire – 2.05: Don't Be Afraid, Just Start the Tape

[2-rustywings-2]

Sleep

Might do more, but for now have these 🤲

I tried to capture that feeling of being a little kid huddled up to your parent as you fall asleep