#and then when I lost frivolous things I actually want

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.2) NSFW

W/C: 3.2k #NSFW, THEY FUCKIN', bottom!reader, top!sukuna, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna ignores feelings through the force of sheer willpower, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, blood as lube (SORRY), Sukuna unhinged horknee, ABO elements

A/N: I wanted to make this include more parts, but I am so flabbergasted and in awe of the response to this fic that I feel the need to feed y'all feral creatures LMAO. JKJK but 👀 Thank you for all the feedback and support! It really gives me the motivation to continue writing and to interact with the JJK community. I'm having a lot of fun!

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

“What the fuck is this?” Sukuna drawled, an intense fury simmering through his being. His gaze couldn't tear free from you, not even to size up the blindfolded weirdo watching him intently. 

He shattered the coffin, freeing you from the makeshift cursed bath some freak had forced you into. He smoothed damp hair from your sickly face and searched for sparks of life somewhere in the cold stillness that'd overtaken you. And there was something. He found it, a little glimmer of vitality in the smallest, shakiest inhale. 

“Good,” he praised, brushing your hair back more and more to get a better look at your face. You looked like the frail little thing he saved all those decades ago.

“You know,” Gojo interrupted, but Sukuna paid him no mind, “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually cared about that kitsune.” 

“Then you don't know what this is,” Sukuna decided blandly. “Figures.” Kenjaku kept him off the record, huh? Guess that's a bonus.

“Oh? Do you wanna enlighten me before Yuuji comes back?” Gojo smiled, as if he really expected Sukuna to play nice and be honest with him. “Come on, come on, it's your chance to be vulnerable~” 

“Tch. Pretty damn sure the fox'll be the one to tell you.” His hand smoothed over your stomach and rubbed slow, gentle circles against your skin as reverse technique sought to bring you all back to him. “He yaps about as much as your insufferable ass does. Granted, he talks a lot nicer.” 

“Wow, rude.” Gojo sighed and clapped twice as if clapping on a light. “Okay! I've had enough bullying. Yuuji–” 

“Brat, don't you fucking dare–” 

Yuuji inhaled sharply. He blinked owlishly at your calmed expression, your eyes now closed and breathing now steadied thanks to Sukuna's aid. 

Aid. That wasn't something the king did. 

“Sensei,” Yuuji managed, voice quivering under the weight of memories’ emotion. “Can you fix this?”

Somehow, you were stuck in the throes of flirtation with the malevolent king of curses. 

“It may be courtship,” Uraume guessed, soft smile brightening their cold exterior. 

(They'd been smiling more recently, actually, ever since you completed that overcoat and presented it to them. Nary a day went by when they did not don the sentimental garb.)

But you weren't so sure; the event of courtship was serious business across all lucid creatures. Animals and creatures of primal existence sought out partners with favorable genes and strong constitution, whereas humans and the like yearned for merit or love in their coupling. You didn't quite grasp the way humans thought. Not yet. 

Well, save for flirting. You decided it was a sort of pre-courtship where nothing became serious and nothing was on the line, but frivolous touches and haughty words of praise ran rampant when those concerned crossed paths. 

Much like today.

(Much like the days before and after.)

You walked along the stone-paved path most mornings, lost in thoughts and mumbling to yourself bits and pieces of poems. Most were unfinished, but in their own time, verses would find one another and complete the incomplete. 

A groggy yawn hummed from the palace entrance. And moments later, Ryoumen Sukuna fell into step with you, grumbling and mumbling complaints about the nippy Spring morning while he tucked his arms away into his sleeves. 

He followed you, idly looking around the expansive space you'd helped curate and maintain when you weren't busying yourself with the girls or decorating clothing. The gardens weren't a mess before, not at all, but now they had a certain taste–trees and flowers were planted with specificity, stones were moved, paths reworked. You took the outside over completely. The king didn't mind. 

“Sukuna-sama,” you said, voice melting in kind with the morning frost. “I'll need to leave for a short while.” 

Sukuna quirked a brow and looked at you. You gazed upon the large, thick koi flashing their beautiful scales and ornate patterns of orange and white as they swam and followed you. Tch. How come even the fish were drawn to you? 

“And how do you think you'll accomplish that?” Sukuna tossed a rock into the koi pond, making the fish scatter. “Getting away from me isn't something you can do.”

You huffed and looked at him. “I understand. I simply seek your permission.” 

“Denied.”

“Ah.” You deadpanned. “Why?”

“You're mine; I decide where you go, how you breathe, if you eat. Or are you forgetting that?” 

You sighed and let your ears droop sadly with your tails. “Surely you jest.” 

“Are you laughing?”

You whined like a sad, sad street pup before cozying up to him, slipping your hands up his stomach and chest like you were supposed to. “Please?” 

“No.” 

You chittered and pressed your face against him, but didn't protest and complain much more. 

Sukuna’s thoughts whirled. The show was amusing, sure, but you didn't do anything without reason, especially when it had to do with breaking character and acting out like this out of–

Oh? 

Sukuna leaned down and sniffed you, searching for the intriguing coil of flowery citrus he nearly missed on the warming breeze. It was so, so faint, but decadent and alluring in a way that made the master of toxins cautious–most poisons tasted sweet, after all. 

You pulled your head back, shrinking down the slightest bit with your ears flattened against your skull. Your eyes, wide as a full moon, stared up at him, expectant. The touch of your hands on him never left, though.

“Brassavola nadosa.” Sukuna tilted his head. “You smell like it.” 

You blinked curiously, relaxing. “Is that so?” 

We don't have that orchid in the garden. Sukuna hummed and lifted a lock of your hair, catching another weak waft of the flower's faint scent. 

It's coming from him, then. Hm. 

“Tell me again why you want to leave the palace?” Sukuna asked on a hunch.

And that hunch doubled down when you fidgeted with the cloth of his haori and looked aside. 

“I wish to bear children," you admitted, shy and quiet. "To try, at the very least. Perhaps find a mate, too.” 

Children. You wanted children. After everything those sorcerers put you through for who knows how many years, you still wanted to mother a runt of your own. And you were willing to run off into the wild to, what, let some random man knock you up? Fill you with seed of unknown origin, unknown value, unknown potential?

Sukuna's ego flared. He leaned down to you, tilting your chin up to make you look him in the eyes regardless how small you felt in that moment. He deserved to witness you. You deserved to witness him. 

“You're not leaving,” he breathed, and he swore he could hear your heart break. “If you want a brat, you'll get a brat–only if you stay here 'n give up on those shitty thoughts of finding a sire out there.”

Your eyes scanned his face, tracing over serious lines and honest creases. Clearly, you searched for an answer–

“How?” 

–one that Sukuna didn’t have. Or maybe he did. Perhaps he just couldn't find the words for it. 

He scoffed and ruffled up your hair, unable to answer you. “You're not leaving. Not unless I say so.” 

The first time he let you go, he left scars. 

He found you in your chambers come early evening. Your tails swished and flicked as you sat amidst a nest of his robes and the missing linens from his chambers while you futzed over the embroidery of another haori, this time adorning the plain thing with the darkest scarlet one could find. Sukuna could already guess why. 

Your being burns as wildfires do. Lively. Emphatically. Devouring more and more so long as the earth lets you. Yet where you do not lay ruin, you grant warmth and light in a divine way. Wildfires are not such horrible things if one stays a respectable ways away. 

Your poetic nonsense irritated him to no end, but he fell enamored all the same; you spoke to honor him with every utterance of his name. You didn't try to kiss his feet nor did you bask him in compliments–you only spoke into existence that which hummed through your mind, unprovoked. It just so happened to be everything Sukuna liked to hear. 

So when he found you secluded away, beckoning so sweetly with intoxicating scents of citrus and gardenia, what choice did he have but to lay claim, to give you the brat you so sorely yearned for?  

You sensed him. Your gaze flicked to him, stoic and unmoved as ever, as the energy in the room built into suffocating silence, something like tectonic plates caught in deadlock, holding their disastrous energy, waiting for the right moment to devastate the world with a single, cataclysmic shift.

And of course, it was the impatient predator that moved first, setting a catastrophe into motion. 

The hours blurred together. 

Every minute of the chase was thrilling, invigorating, surprising–you were filled with tricks and traps, never slowing down for a second to think or doubt as the beast of a sorcerer pursued you through his palace, through the city below, and now into the looming forest in the mountains. 

Admittedly, he'd gotten carried away. He lost himself in the rush of it all, the adrenaline and pure, destructive desire pushed his self-control into unraveling just the slightest bit; honest attacks tore through space and time, hoping to maim and cripple you if they were to hit. And, honestly, the way you avoided his attempts to strike you down enthralled him as much as it enraged him–he was seconds away from unleashing his domain until a less-than-satisfying ripple of cursed energy tore across your thigh and put you down.

It was then, walking up to you, to his prey, that Sukuna remembered you weren't a sorcerer. Most would be able to stand and walk it off, maybe even heal with reverse technique, but you could only grasp at your weeping wound and grimace. Because you were not a sorcerer, you were a kitsune: a trickster, a creature full of mischief and void of cursed energy. 

Yokai. Not a human. Not a curse. Not like the rest of the boring souls wandering his earth. 

Sukuna pinned you the second you tried to make a break for it. Fangs and claws gnashed and tore into him while his hands strained to keep you down and rip those damn clothes free from your burning skin. 

Mating's never a pretty thing when it comes to nature. Humans like you made it something more.

Sukuna clasped a hand over your mouth and forced his weight onto you, ripping reedy yowls from your core as you twisted and turned, primal mind urging you to run, run, run, don't make this easy, make him prove his worth–

Rip.

Ribbons of what were once your robes fluttered to the ground, useless and unsalvageable. They were plain black, so unlike what you usually wore. You wouldn't miss them. 

“Make this as difficult as you want, pet,” Sukuna whispered as he loomed over you. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat when you stilled.  

“You know how this ends.” 

His pants were pulled down while another hand wiped slippery blood against your pliant entrance–and that was the only warning you got before he pushed into you. 

Where you should have screamed, you instead sighed. Your back arched off the ground like a work of art. Two hands gave up on holding you down in favour of gripping your waist and hips, pulling you closer to him, forcing you flush against his body. 

He noticed it then: a litany of old scars and discoloured marks shining against your skin. Marks left by those who did not deserve to taste such a delicacy. 

Unsightly.

Blood painted the grass. Cleaves and slashes ate away at those tainted scars, painting over the ugliness left hidden for too long–now, his marks would decorate you. Now, those hidden scars would mean something. They’d mean everything. 

Yet Sukuna's selfish maiming wasn't fitting the bill, and your antsy-ness was proof of it. You tried for the last time to pull from him, but his grip tightened around your throat. You gazed at him, then, eyes so wide and hungry, eager to fight or fuck–whichever came first. 

He braced over you and nearly winced as he dragged out of your suffocating heat. A sharp snap back inside loosened you, the glide of blood and slick aiding him. 

“I'll take you the way you need it,” he drawled as he built the pace quickly, already feeling his own obsession and excitement reverberating through his body, filling every fibre of muscle with electricity.

“Then,” he growled, leaning closer to your face. “I'll fuck you the way you want it.”

“More,” you sighed, digging your nails into the pillow you had your face buried in while the beast fucked you from behind. Sukuna groaned in compliance and lanced into your guts deeper, harder, faster than before–you were the only one that could handle the brutal way he let loose, and he was more than willing to indulge in that privilege. 

The hands all over you rose to the occasion, too; one had your tails fisted in his ruthless grasp, rudely holding you still and pulling you back against his hips; another rested on the curve of your ass, only moving to give a sharp slap or to knead your soft, perfect skin; the last two held your hips in a crushing force, his calloused fingers digging into your plush sides and sharp hip bones like you might disappear at any second. 

A sharp, sweet whine signaled the beginning of the end, as did the restless fidgeting and shifting in the king's grasp. Seeing you, a poised, powerful, mischievous being, come undone beneath him came to be one of Sukuna’s favourite sights, especially knowing it could only be because of him--only him. 

He leaned over you, his heavy chest pressing into your back as one hand released your waist in favour of fisting in your hair and tugging your head back and out of the futon you so desperately clung to. 

“Ah-ah,” he scolded breathily. “No hiding.” It was a familiar sentiment, one he had no problem reminding you of now and again. You had a horrible habit of trying to vanish when overwhelmed, after all. 

“Terrible beast,” you snapped back, scoffing indignantly when the deep bassy laugh of the man rolled through your body. “Horrible.” 

“You love it,” Sukuna growled back, grinning through every word. 

Something about it clearly struck a chord with you, judging by how fast you choked on your voice and came undone, legs trembling and body tightening around the too-big intrusion. The king groaned and bit at your neck, licking whatever blood beaded at the surface in between rushed, hushed words of praise for you and your efforts–most, if they heard the things he said, would call it out of character for the beast. Most didn't get to see beyond his raw power and crippling cruelty, however. 

Sukuna grunted and spilled inside you, pulling you back by your hair, hips and tail to ensure he forced every bit of his offerings deep into your core. Your body rocked and twitched against his, accepting all he had to offer you at the end of yet another coupling, before he let go of your locks and let you collapse face-first into the futon. 

He pulled out slowly, watching as every inch slipped from your abused hole before popping free and uncorking a dribble of whiteness from inside. He tutted and scooped it up with two fingers before stuffing it back in. 

“Oi, oi, are you even trying to keep it in?” He teased, smirking as you huffed. 

“You've exhausted me. I have no energy to attempt the impossible,” you lamented, nuzzling your nose further into the soft sheets smelling of cedar and fresh blooms–something so uniquely Sukuna. 

Your king sighed and gave your ass a firm few pats. “Guess I'll have to spoil you even more.” He settled onto his back and easily pulled you onto him, yanking you up to straddle his waist right where that second mouth laid open and eager to taste you. 

“This is uncouth,” you sighed. But you rocked back against the thick, heavy tongue pressing into your pliant heat, licking deep into you with a mind and hunger of its own. 

“Seems couth enough for you,” he commented, watching you ride his centre with rapt attention. “Little harlot's getting off on this, hey? Such a needy little brat.” 

His hands smoothed up and down your legs and sides as you shamelessly chased a second high. Your hands clasped over his as he took you into his hand and stroked you back to ample stiffness, the soreness of too many rounds of fucking making you far too sensitive to touch. 

“S-Sukuna-sama,” you stammered. “I can't–”

Sukuna's head tilted with a pleased smirk. “Ho? I thought you wanted to bear children? Are my offerings not enough for you?” 

You scrunched your face up into something of a prissy glare, but the shine clinging to your lashes and the shuddering of your body against his betrayed your crumbling demeanor. Of course, he was impressed with how his fox was fairing considering everything he put you through. 

He maneuvered you onto your back, grinning as you growled and weakly struggled against him. You looked perfect–stomach swollen, hair fanned out behind you, eyes teary but unable to tear away from the creature that’d tormented you for hours upon hours with no desire to give you a break. 

“Greedy god,” Sukuna lamented. One hand came to rest on your bruised neck again, fitting around so perfectly. “Nothing’s ever fucking good enough for you.” 

“You are.” 

That gave Sukuna pause. He stared down at you, all eyes looking over you with rapt attention as he tried to think. Tried to understand. Tried to parse those words and uncover what exactly you tried to convey. 

But it didn't click. 

“Tch. You're lucky I'm a generous god,” he scolded, releasing you from your torment in favour of collapsing down beside you for some much-needed rest. Not only did your beautiful body wear him out (not that he'd admit it), but your whimsical words wore his sanity thin. The worst part was you didn't even intend to damage him so. 

“I am truly honoured to merely be in your presence,” Your voice, light and dreamy as petals fluttering, laughed, and Sukuna's soul did something odd. 

He stared at the ceiling as you shuffled beside him, quickly returning to his side, donned in one of his haori and determined to make a comfortable nest of blankets and clothes around you both for the rest of the night–ah, morning? Huh. What an ordeal. 

You curled up next to him, shoving your back firmly against his side the way you often did when resting as a fox, and Sukuna huffed. 

“Turn to me,” he commanded, and you obeyed. 

He, too, turned to face you to envelope your lithe form with invincible arms and divine protection. Your soft purrs rolled through him, settling his wild spirit into a lazy tempo of an early morning stroll through a garden filled with one sort of white orchid: 

Brassavola nadosa. “Lady of the Night.” Your calling card. Your divine essence.

"Brassavola nodosa (Lady of the Night) is a medium-sized epiphytic or lithophytic orchid species boasting extremely fragrant flowers throughout the year. The blossoms, 4 in. across (10 cm), emit a citrus fragrance at night. Each flower features long, slender, pale green or creamy-white sepals and petals and a large, heart-shaped lip sometimes adorned with purple or dark red spotting." - gardenia.net

[puripurin]

— Dance Partner!Yan, who was the embodiment of child star when he was 9 with his flexibility and incredible dance skills at such a young age, made him a little— scratch that, a massive little shit from the numerous praises he was showered with. That was until you stepped foot into the studio he was practicing at with your parents.

You, back then as a 9 year old child, didn't come from a wealthy family, but that didn't stop your parents from saving up until they could afford 2 months of dance practice lessons. It wasn't cheap either as the dance studio became popular from just him alone, but it was worth it for your safety as a child.

Almost immediately, he was infatuated with you. Talking with you, helping you, and just being overly friendly towards you. There was no doubt he was never going to let you go, even as a 9 year old. That's why he volunteered (well closer to asking his parents to threaten his dance coach) to be your one and olny dance partner.

You were ecstatic until you realized that you only had a week left of your dance lessons. Of course, you were sad and kind of embarrassed, but you wanted your parents to spend the money on other things other than something so frivolous, so you never said anything.

That first day when he found out that you weren't coming back was a nightmare. He was screaming and crying for you to come back, and he even lost his voice, so he resorted to isolating himself.

When you eventually came back later that day because of the frantic calls that your parents had gotten, he held on to you tight for hours and was only babbling incoherent sentences. From that day onwards, his parents were paying for you to go to the dance studio so that something like that never happens. Which leads you to the current day him.

Dance Partner! Yan was heavily affected by that incident, so now you and him were together for almost everything. Sleeping, bathing, cooking, and, obviously, dance performances. He always knows where you are, and you always know where he is.

He thinks that you are his one and only and will die on that hill forever. He's even made sure that you and him lost your virginity to one another.

Along with never allowing anyone to be your dance partner. If there was a new person who hadn't been informed of your relationship with one another and insisted on talking to you, his touchiness blows through the roof. He'll start groping you and making you flushed more obviously to deter that person away.

"Now, now, stop getting feisty. You don't think I'm tired of making sure people know that you are mine?"

Awoop, art jumscare that is partly finished. Ofc its Cecil and Clear. Some parts look bad, but idc. Im not planning for art to be my main hobbie, and i rarely draw.

Also, here's some more images? Imagines?? Ummm, whichever one is the corect one.

Also another character added to my ever so slightly increasing roster of ocs. I was gonna write the the other charas but this was siting in my head rent free like, I let you come and live her for free and I don't even charge you rent?? The disrespect i just underwent.

Anyways, it was originally going to be a dance instructor slowly getting possessvie over you and only teaching you lewd dances then it actually became dance partner yan. So un yeah wwoop.

Noy preoofread

[writeyouin]

Lost light megatron trying to have fun with his s/o, but kinda failing cuz he thinks of all the ways it could go wrong? (Maybe they’re on a planet in a theme park?) and reader has to convince him to let loose?

Megatron X Reader – Let Loose

A/N – Slowly, whittling my list of requests down.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Megatron snatched the cotton candy from you, earning a startled look from the vendor and the surrounding people alike. You, on the other hand, merely smiled, knowing what he was like.

“Babe, it’s not poisonous,” You told him patiently, waiting for him to agree.

Megatron tore off a piece of the fluffy treat, scanning it with a device he had procured from Red Alert; that bot was equally paranoid about all the things that could poison you, or that could contaminate the ship’s supply of energon, or that could… Actually, the list of things that Red Alert was paranoid about was endless.

He hummed and passed it back to you begrudgingly. While it was true that the food wouldn’t kill you, it wasn’t very good for you either, which is exactly what he told you after you tore a piece off, popping it in your mouth gleefully.

“Would you lighten up?” You laughed, elbowing him playfully. “Today is supposed to be fun.”

Megatron followed you through the Carnival that Rodimus had insisted on making the Lost Light stop at. Frankly, he thought that he had been doing well by not complaining that it was a waste of time and energy to visit such a trashy attraction, especially when the crew had to make use of their holo-forms which increased their energon consumption by 3.7%. That might not have been a lot for one bot, but when used by the full crew, it would ensure they practically ate through their energy reserves.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), but how exactly would you have me ‘lighten up’?” Megatron used air quotes upon repeating you.

“Just cut loose. Have fun for the day, okay?”

Megatron scowled. His idea of fun was composing poetry to sum up his deepest thoughts and clear his processor, or to spend an evening with you, consuming some of the universe’s best literature, while you spent time on one of your hobbies.

Frankly, this was when another bot might comment on how odd your relationship was. You and Megatron were not alike. You were loud, carefree, and energetic. He was sombre and contemplative, and he preferred not to waste energy on frivolous activities.

Yet, Megatron found himself wanting to please you. Part of this stemmed from the idea that he didn’t believe that he deserved you, and partially because you asked very little of him, taking the relationship one day at a time while he learned how to navigate it with you.

“Very well,” Megatron sighed. “I shall…” He tripped over the words cut loose, finding the slang un-endearing, opting to finish by saying, “Try to relax somewhat.”

“That’s all I ask,” You chuckled, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the first game of the day.

It was a simple ring toss over some bottles, with various prizes hanging overhead. You spotted a plushie armadillo which was arguably the most hideous of the prizes, yet it held your attention, your pupils dilating at the sight of it.

“Oh yeah, that’s coming home with me.”

And so the game began. You tried again and again to win the creature, putting more and more credits on it, much to the vendor's satisfaction.

Megatron watched, bemused, until finally, he grabbed your shoulder, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“What’s wrong, babe? You want a go?”

You held out a ring to him. Megatron glowered first at the bottles, then at the vendor. “You should leave this game.” He told you matter-of-factly. Then in a whisper, he added, “My sensors show that it has been rigged. Winning is a statistical impossibility.”

“Oh,” You deflated. You had already guessed that the game was rigged, but it had been fun to try all the same. Half-heartedly, you threw the last ring before walking away. “Okay… something else then.”

Megatron silently cursed himself for upsetting you, but it was better you knew now rather than trying to win the impossible.

Your eyes lit up again when you saw what had to be the world’s most unstable rollercoaster.

“How about that?!” You pointed to it excitedly.

Megatron scanned the structure, messaging Ultra Magnus to see how many laws it broke. According to him, the ride had 36 structural weaknesses, broke 17 laws, and would only be legal on 3 planets.

You shook your head as Megatron’s face set into its default scowl.

“Oh, come on, please,” You begged, clasping your hands together.

“I won’t stop you, but I shan’t join you,” Megatron said drily, thinking about how he would be prepared to shed his holo-form and rescue you when the ride inevitably flew off the tracks or something equally terrible.

“Really? I can’t convince you?” You pouted.

“I should think not.”

You opened your mouth to argue until Rodimus ran into you, “Hey (Y/N). You here for the coaster?”

“Yeah, I was about to get in line. I’m just asking Meg-”

Rodimus rolled his eyes, “Megatron isn’t going to join you. It would mean having fun, something he’s completely allergic to, you know, alongside joy, laughter, puppies, flowers-”

“Shut up,” You punched Rodimus playfully in the arm.

Megatron watched as you and Rodimus played, eventually getting his approval to go on the ride together. It sometimes amazed him that you hadn’t chosen to enter a relationship with someone like Rodimus. The two of you were quite similar and had a good rapport.

Megatron sighed as he watched the two of you on the ride. He was somewhat you were relieved that you were with his co-captain. At least that way you would be safe with him should something happen. One person with you, and another on the ground in case something went wrong.

Yet, remarkably, nothing bad happened, except for Megatron putting yet another damper on the day, making him practically miserable.

Once you had come off the ride, Megatron made his excuses to go back to the ship, leaving you alone with Rodimus. He had much to think about when it came to the two of you, and frankly, he felt like he needed to find some reasons that the two of you were together, especially after such a disastrous excuse of a date, wherein he had only helped to sour your vibrant mood.

Megatron startled at the sound of the doorbell ringing.

He answered the door to find you, holding tightly onto the plushie armadillo that he had claimed was impossible to win.

“So, you somehow won the ring toss,” He stated, gesturing to the toy.

“Nah. Rodimus distracted the guy there and I took this,” You held out your prize, grinning victoriously.

“Stealing?” Megatron said doubtfully, thinking about what a terrible influence Rodimus could be.

“I’d like to think of it as liberating a plushie who needs a lot of love. Besides, you said it yourself. That guy was cheating, so it’s only fair he loses a prize or two every now and then.”

Megatron nodded stiffly, his optics following you as you entered the hab-suite.

“I’m sorry-” He started, surprised when you said “Thank you,” at the same time.

“What’re you-” “Why are you-”

You laughed as you both spoke simultaneously again, gesturing for him to start first.

“I- I’m sorry for leaving you at the fair,” Megatron sighed in his usual melancholy tone. “And you don’t have anything to thank me for. Believe me, I should know.”

You grinned, holding back a bout of laughter since you didn’t want Megatron to be offended.

“I’ll admit, I was sad that you left early, but… I wanted to thank you, for a really good night.”

Megatron didn’t respond. Frankly, he couldn’t see how you had a good time with him at all.

“I know the carnival isn’t your scene, but you went with me anyway, and… I love having someone who looks out for me all the time. I think it’s really sweet that you don’t want me to get conned out of my credits, or get hurt on the big rides, or, y’know, die from poison. I love you, Megatron.”

That wasn’t the first time that you had told Megatron you loved him, nor would it be the last, and yet, you always said it at the most unexpected times.

“I… Love you too,” Megatron said haltingly, scared as usual that his vulnerability would lead to a terrible end for the two of you. “Would you like to spend the night here?” He offered.

“Sounds good to me,” You beamed.

[jymwahuwu]

I have an idea. A self-aware au. What if Jing yuan/Blade is aware of darling's affection for him since they would log in the game and just see him and just admire them that is until Genshin drops 4.1 trailer and saw Arlecchino and Neuvillette and now they're envious of these two taking away their darling's attention.

It's just an interesting idea tho. But in actuality I'd think neuvillette and him would be friends or somewhat

Hello, this anon has similar thoughts!! Put them together to answer >_< I think they will be really jealous of the genshin impact characters who are stealing your attention lol. Jing Yuan's jealousy is more harmless (seemingly), while Blade's is more aggressive (?)

This is my first time writing a self-aware AU, hope you like it!!

CW: yandere, self-aware au

Jing Yuan and Blade have their own lives.

When you're not with them, when you're not in front of the screen or looking at them with a smile or wonder. They are handling the work/tasks of the Seat of Divine Foresight/Stellaron Hunters. Blade, Silver Wolf and Kafka were practicing the new "destiny" script and took away another Stellaron. Jing Yuan is managing Luofu and attending meetings. How strange. Once you click on the space screen to enter the game, they can see your face. You organize your team and do daily tasks with them.

At first, they thought it was some kind of prank or a conspiracy, but over time they got used to it. In Elio's words, "The world is like a video game. No one can prove whether the world is real or false. Feeling the current destiny is the most important thing."

For Jing Yuan, he just got familiar with your personality. He confirmed that your presence would not put Luofu in danger, and that you acted like a cute kitten playing with a ball of yarn. You can control Luofu's General and Stellaron Hunter, and all you do is wander around Xianzhou and buy snacks to feed them, break every poor object on the way, fight to get some rewards, take the books on the table, etc.

You didn't forget to "build" them either. They watch you search for "Jing Yuan", "Blade", "build", "guide" and other keywords on the Internet, and take them to fight again and again to get materials to upgrade. Although they have actually participated in some wars and have terrible strength, what you see here is "lv 1-80".

You really like them, otherwise you wouldn’t pull, right? You even take photos of them while wandering around the map. Jing Yuan snickered when you took Blade to take a selfie in front of his wanted poster. The general is not shy about giving you a smile either. They know your admiration because you always take more than one photo.

Until… recently, they noticed that you weren't online as often. At one point, you log in again, and then, as if you thought of something important, you search "genshin impact" on Youtube (they know the name of the site) and start watching trailers and special programs.

What's this?

You stared intently at those…those people. White curly bangs, long hair like a waterfall, and his gorgeous and decent attire. The other man has short black hair. He punches enemies in live. A woman with short gray and white hair smiles confidently.

Jing Yuan opened his eyes wide, not expecting you to be so "frivolous" - did you plan to be unfaithful to him? You found Jing Yuan pouting at you in the game, but you thought you were hallucinating, so you gave him immortal's delight and puffergoat milk to comfort him. Blade clicked his tongue, crossed his arms in boredom, and stopped observing what you were doing on the other side of the screen. Silver Wolf and Kafka teased him about whether he was separated from the little player? Jealous? You're surprised to notice that his damage has been doubled. While on a mission, Blade almost lost control and killed a person on the script. His eyes as red as candlelight flashed, and he almost swung down the sword in his hand.

They are all looking for opportunities to get close to you. That part of Xianzhou's large computer installation called "loom" is running, investigating and analyzing you.

[cowboyfromh3ll]

I saw u say i do hcs so i thought i should ask for some hcs 'cause ur one shots r great so ur hcs will obviously be too. Anyways, can we get hcs about Javier having a crush on a girl who's nice and reserved, a bit shy too. Like, what he'd do to impress her? How will he talk to her? It's more fluff but u can add some nsfw because ur style in writing is just *chef's kiss*

HC for Javier crushing on a shy and reserved fem!reader (smut)

warnings: smut, some humiliation

Javier is absolutely smitten

Many people think he's some smooth talking romantic, but we saw the way he was acting around those two women at the bar in Valentine

The way he acts around women he wants is quite frivolous 

At first he think your shyness means you don’t want to talk to him or straight up don’t want anyone's company, and he’s very discouraged by it

Sometimes he’ll see you walking past and say “Why don’t you talk to me more often?” to which you laugh awkwardly to

Cries himself to sleep that night

Will very hesitantly try and talk you or ask for your opinion on things to strike conversation

When you ask what’s up he would have realized he didn’t think his bluff through so makes something up

Ends up asking what you think of his outfit

To which you say you think it's lovely and call him stylish

The compliment makes his year

He trips over his words and becomes excited, grasping at anything to get your attention and keep it

His excitement can be described as juvenile, as he finds any excuse to try and be around you

Will learn how to sew simply so he can sit there with you while you do your chores 

And so Miss Grimshaw doesn’t yell at him for distracting you while working, he’s working too he would argue

Notices you come round the campfire when he’s playing or singing, so he starts doing it almost every night

Sometimes he’ll sing love songs for you indirectly, even if people are around and nobody knows it’s meant for you, Javier will mean it in his head

Will ask you for song requests personally 

He’s pretty awkward at first when it comes to crushes but once he advances in them he’ll get more confident

For a while he sorta just stood around you and asked you mundane little questions, followed you around like a lost puppy

Your shyness would keep you from giving more fleshed out answers, but your brief responses would not discourage him

But once the two of you started talking more he makes sure he’s the one you talk to the most

Definitely the type of guy who keeps your attention by making you laugh. Anytime you two are together it's all giggles from you and it's SO obvious to anyone around you guys that y’all are flirting

Definitely the jealous type as well

If he sees you talking to another guy his anger will probably cause him to be more bold with you

Eventually starts dedicating songs to you

Once he starts getting real bold he’ll say more flirty stuff

“Can I stay in your tent with you tonight? It’s a bit cold.” 

Once you start dating he INSISTS you don’t lift a finger and will do your chores for you

His previously learned sewing skill comes in real handy

NSFW

Think your shyness is so so cute and sexy

Despite his own initial nerves, he tries to be audacious for the both of you during sex

Will lead many of your sessions together

Always starts nice and slow and takes things at your pace

Unwraps you like a present but very carefully as though your skin is made of paper and he might actually tear you

His nerves shine through as he undresses you with shaky hands

Will constantly ask you questions and cup your face so you can speak to him while looking him in the eyes

His confidence increases the longer you are together and become comfortable with one another

This man can fuck rough, starkly contrasts your own shy personality

Has so much stamina, but will slow it down if you ask

Loves making you blush by talking dirty, will whisper absolute filth in your ear if it means just getting you to blush

Will nip at your earlobe while whispering to you, sees just how wet he can get you from his words alone

Praises you so much during sex “My perfect girl, you’re doing so good.” “Yes, just like that preciosa, you’re so good at this.”

Loves the way the praise makes you blush just as much as his dirty talk

Is so lewd when you two are going at it, always encourages you to be just as bold

Enjoys your quiet personality in front of others just to see how loud he can make you scream in private

Puts you in embarrassing positions just to see how flustered you get 

Sometimes he'll secretly grope you in public to see the way you squeak

Absolutely tease, gets so much enjoyment from watching the way you squirm because of how shy you are 

[thefiery-phoenix]

how about yandere boyfriend h/c for Gun Park 🫶🏻

Sure

YANDERE PARK JONGGUN HEADCANONS

If you have this psychotic fighting obsessed lunatic after you as a yandere or as a significant other, I seriously pray for you and your mental health. He's the cause of people's trauma and gave at least half the lookism characters their own sob backstories. You'd meet him in middle school. He's the heir of the famous Japanese Yakuza organization of the Yamazaki clan. You didn't want anything to do with him at first. He was the poster boy for being a troublemaker and kept beating people up left and right. You hated his cruelty towards the other students and wanted to stay the heck away from him. One day however you accidentally bumped into him and you spilled some water over his shirt. His bodyguards simply glared at you menacingly as Gun stared at you with a cold stoic look on his face. However when you apologized profusely with a flustered embarrassed expression on his face, a small smirk formed on his lips as he watched you with an amused expression, trying to wipe his shirt with that cute little handkerchief of yours

You've managed to intrigue him now, congratulations because you have a stalker on your trail. He quietly observes you in the classes, how you're always quick to answer the questions asked by the teacher, how you're so eager to finish doing your homework...you were such a goody two shoes, the typical girl next door and he found your personality rather amusing. He felt like a predator watching his pretty little prey and he felt a surge of power rush through him. He found out everything about you within 10 minutes and during the lunch period he quietly left a bottle of your favorite drink and left

He promised himself he'd never have time for silly frivolous distractions like love and that nonsense. He was supposed to destroy everyone in his path to attain his great title of becoming the king of the second generation, so why couldn't he fight you when he was about to hit some random moron because they'd dared to challenge him. "Leave. This doesn't concern you" he said with his usual cold look on his face as a slight flash of irritation flashed in his eyes. Why on earth would you defend someone so weak and insignificant when you're supposed to be by his side? Do you not know you belong to him now? However when he sees you extending your arms out and looking at him with a slight angry determined pout and asking him to leave the student alone, for the first time, he actually listened to someone and it was you. An amused smirk formed on his face. "Aww...how cute, a little princess is trying to be a hero...just know things won't always work out your way and you'll need someone like me in the end to protect you...I'll wait for that day to come" said Gun with a slight hint of malice dancing manically in his eyes as he left

A few years later you've heard of his fearful and dangerous reputation around South Korea of how he's busy terrorizing the other gangs with another blonde pest named Goo. However you had no intention of getting involved in things like gang wars and such, your only objective was to just survive high school and get a decent job and make a life of your own. If you thought for a moment he's stopped watching you, you're absolutely wrong. He's always on the lookout for you and is always keeping an eye on you. The other day some random guy started hitting on you despite your repeated attempts of refusing him

"She said no you lousy insect..get lost before I murder you" said a familiar cold voice as he came out of the shadows in his long black suit and black glasses as he smoked a cigarette and glared at the man. "Who the hell are you to tell me what to-" said the man but couldn't finish his sentence as Gun ended up grabbing him by his neck with his hand and flung him to the nearby. He then put out his cigarette on top of the man's unconscious head as he smirked at you. "Well princess...it's been a while since we've met" he said as he strode closer to you. He surveyed your features, you didn't change since the last time he saw you. However what drew him towards you was your childlike naivety and innocence. Something he wanted for himself

"I'll be upfront with you...I don't play games. Go out with me. And don't you dare refuse, you know you don't have that option" he said as he leaned closer to you just to make you feel more flustered which he was getting a kick out of. You sighed and agreed to go out with him as he smiled evilly at you. But deep down, he could feel his heart melt slightly at your acceptance. What a good little doll you were, doing whatever he asked from you

As a yandere, he would be possessive, obsessive and manipulative as well. He's not above to using other people as mere chess pieces just to get whatever he wants from you. But the bright side is, he doesn't hurt you, physically or emotionally. Despite him not being too fond of the idea of romance, he has a pretty good idea of what to do with a partner. He likes taking you out to nice fancy restaurants where there's a private booth so you won't be able to squeal for help. This sadistic MF here loves and lives to see you squirm and get flustered. Don't get too surprised when this jerk here keeps running his hands down your thigh with a smirk on his face

He ALWAYS knows your location, despite you not even telling him. A certain purple haired brat keeps him informed as insufferable as he might be. If you've guessed it was Kouji then good job, you win a cookie. Another blonde psychopath who goes by the name Goo keeps him informed as well. You're not supposed to go anywhere without telling your man where you're going. He'll always be stalking you from the shadows, you're never really alone. He doesn't want you getting involved in gang fights and crew messes and stuff. When you asked him to fight you, he simply cracked a sadistic amused grin. A few seconds later you found yourself on the ground as he pet your head and chuckled softly. "Naive little princesses like you aren't supposed to be in gang fights..." he said as he softly caressed your cheek

He'd rather take this to the grave than admit this out loud but he loves it when you rake your fingers through his hair. He feels like all the walls in his heart are breaking down and he lets out a soft contended hum of approval. Had it been Goo doing that, his fingers would have been bent at an unnatural angle and would have to deal with his incessant whining. He also likes to hold you and have you on his lap. He likes the physical intimacy. Plus the view is great too, there's a reason he wears glasses you know...this shameless perv 💀

Don't underestimate his power. The second you try to leave him or get away from him, he'll end up kidnapping you. He has his own reasons, selfish reasons to be precise. Scream, cry and throw as many number of tantrums as you want, you won't be leaving him anytime soon. There's no way you'll be able to even fight him so the sooner you get that silly little thought from your pretty little head, the better it would be for everyone involved. He'll just think you might need some time to adjust and he'll give you your space. However when you try kicking and punching him, he'll just take them with an amused smirk on his face and coo at you describing your hits compared to that of a bratty little child trying to hit someone

He'd spoil the hell out of you though, whatever your little heart desires it's yours. Just say the word. He also likes it when he comes back from a fight and you patch him up and he can't help but lean in slightly into your touch as he looks at you with a soft affectionate look, reserved only for you, the special one in his heart. Of course, he might be a cocky little jerk to get deliberately injured in fights at times just to feel your touch and to see how adorable you look when you're all concerned and fussing over him. Goo will eventually call him out on his BS only for Gun to whack him across the head with a slight smirk but he wouldn't deny it

Now, as for the people who dare to steal you away from him or try to take you away from him...not even the gods would be able to save them. He will have no mercy when it comes to such people. Perhaps if he's feeling a tad bit merciful and he wants to get home to you quickly, he'll just beat them up till they're literally hospitalized for a month. Or else it's straight up death in the most gruesome and horrendous manner possible. He does not hold back and will go even feral than usual. Some lousy moron tried to take pictures of you while you were unaware of it a few days ago. Gun didn't even bother to hesitate to break the punk's hand and crush it in one go, silently vowing to murder the little pest later on in the night

Don't even bother trying to escape from him, you'll just be making him laugh at this point. He doesn't even need any help tracking you down, like I said before, he'll always know where you are. He can read you like an open book and knows what your thoughts are. He might be cold and aloof at times but he does like cuddling with you and petting your head affectionately. As much as you nag him to quit smoking, that's something he wouldn't give up on. But he finds it amusing and endearing how fussy you get about it and will pull you onto his lap and quickly capture your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss

Ultimately at the end of the day, no matter how ruthless he is he just wants to come back to you and have you in his arms, right where you belong...

[butterscotchpiesandguys]

Student Becomes the Teacher

It was a familiar experience to me, getting in my car, going to class early, doing homework. Felt nice. Of course what was also familiar was the bullying. You see I had recently gotten fired and had a wake up call. I needed to do something better with my life. So what did I do? i, as someone so smart would do, joined a technical institute. I went into a more financial side though. This did not make me popular with my classmates who had been there longer, were usually older, and most of which were more hands on.

They would call me a nerd, a loser, and a geek. Of course I didn't care all too much about this. Harassment was just that, and quite frankly it was some annoying dumb ass adults who couldn't even think straight enough to get a job that was actually needed. This attitude also made me very unpopular. So unpopular a teacher complained. Why? Cause he had heard some of the stuff me and my field would say about the welders.

It was just stuff like how they're stupid, all have at least one DUI, won't amount to anything. Stuff like that. He went so far to complain to the head administrator of the school. Now he used to be an electrician so he knew how it was to be hands on. He loved hearing about all of this and hatched a plan. The workload for the welders had been pretty overwhelming for just one instructor...

It was only a few days before I heard murmurs of a new instructor coming on campus, of course it was some welder... not like my section could get anything. But that same week I was called into an office at campus. I expected nothing much, maybe an odd thing I lost, although what it was I could not imagine... what I didn't expect was the head administrator.

"Hello [Y/N], we just wanted to talk to you today." Oh god what was it about, he could see how nervous I was. It was humiliating but also I needed to try and keep cool. "We had received some complaints about your attitude towards the welders and electricians, I just wanted to go through a few questions with you, that ok?"

Without knowing what to do I nodded, "Y-yes sir." I gulped a bit.

"Good, so first... is it true you had said to Taylor that he was a... no good stoner with no future? Is that true?" I tried to shake my head no but it went the opposite way. "Ah, glad you were honest with me. Well... you know here we like to give second chances to anyone right?" I shook my head in agreement. "In that case, any felonies you have?"

What felonies? What kind of- "Yeah, actually I've had a dui or two, got arrested for a fight or two... or more." What was I saying?! What the hell?!

"I appreciate your honesty... Tom was it?" What kind of name was that? It wasn't my name at all? Wait why did I nod?! "Yeah, well that's gonna be tough but your students generally would relate. The head administrator smiled at me. "We can wave those away since your track record for your work is pretty good."

"Glad to hear that." I said again in that weird voice. What the hell was happening... why did I suddenly remember welding and shit... What the hell...

"Yeah... I think you'll fit right in, Tom." Why was he being so devilish right now?!

"Thanks man, really need this." I chuckled as I stood up and walked out of the room. "Startin next thursday right?"

"Yup! Just wear somethin like that when you come in! We'll get a shirt in your size soon!" He laughed as I walked out, the window in the door showing a new reflection.

My face was more dashing, a bit older as well. My hair was messy but in an almost purposeful way. My body had grown quite a bit of muscle now... hair as well. Tattoos had been put on my body frivolously! I looked like some typical douche bag!

I walked through the halls, trying to see on my phone what had happened. My background was a picture of a motorcycle. Jessie... what? Who the hell was Jessie? My contacts had some girls in there and some guys I had no clue who they were. Going through the messages they were my drinking buddies and some hookups.

I continued until the electrician teacher stopped to talk. "Hey are you..." I wanted to say my actual name but that didn't pop out.

"Yeah, name's Thomas Wylder. You can just call me Tom though." I smiled at her... it was like my body moved on it's own. "New teacher here, welding." Wait...

We started to talk in the hall for a bit, just about staff in the school and how the welders were. She described them as younger than me and rowdy. I would make douchey comments or state shit about my life. Where I now lived, how many years I had been a welder and in the union. It was like I wasn't even me anymore. Eventually I cut it short, needing to go do some "tasks" at my home.

I went outside to find it... the same motorcycle from the picture. Jessie. I put on a leather jacket and no helmet... I could ride it with no issue though. I was still wondering how or why this happened. It was as if I was... no... the head administrator wouldn't do that would he?

I eventually got back to wherever my home was. Beaten up shithole kinda... not in a good neighborhood either. I waved to a neighbor and went in. Smelt like shit, I reached in my pocket and took out a cig and started smoking... no... I was the worst kind of person. The kind I hated. Dumb, arrogant, douchey, and toxic! It was awful!

2 MONTHS HAD GONE BY

I was now regularly teaching the class, about two weeks into this hellish experience I had started to regain full control of my life. While I tried to actually stop these worse traits, I couldn't. By that point they were ingrained into me. Now I acted like a douchey teacher, the kinds you hate. The ones that will just tease or make fun of nerdy kids. Of course I was well loved by the staff and my students.

I worked as a welder and taught the trade now. I hated it... but it gave me money to pay the lifestyle I never wanted. I don't think I deserved this but... I'm slowly coming around to it. I feel more confident and hey, I even hang out with some of the douchebags I had teach me when I went here... god I sound so old now... I hope someday I can reverse this before it's way too late.

[aelius29]

The Rain

It's a one shot.

Pairings: Fem reader x Wednesday Addams

A/n: it's my first time to wrote it in here. I hope you guys like it. ✨💕

And my friend help me fixing my grammar.. 😭😂

Her name @phantomverse707 . She wrote a story a h.p. fan fiction as well. I hope you guys support her. ✨🖋️

Y/n P.O.V.

We stood together, sheltered under Wednesday’s black umbrella. The soft patter of rain droplets against the fabric filled the air as I gazed out at the rain, feeling a sense of calm wash over me.

Wednesday stood silently beside me, her expression stoic as always. I could sense her eyes on me, sharp and observant, aware of my appreciation for the rain.

“You seem to have an unhealthy obsession with rain,” Wednesday noted, her voice flat, with just a hint of curiosity beneath her monotone.

I nodded, my gaze still fixed on the falling raindrops. “Yeah, I like it. It’s soothing.”

Wednesday tilted her head slightly, considering my words. “There is something strangely satisfying about the rain’s capacity to drown out the noise of humanity."

I smiled at her, surprised by her insight. “Exactly. It’s like the world just… stops. For a moment, the rain washes away all the worries and stress of the world."

Wednesday’s eyes flickered with the slightest hint of agreement. “It does have a certain tranquility. Like the prelude to a funeral.”

Without warning, I sprinted out into the rain, laughing as I let the cold drops hit my face.

“Wednesday!” I called, grinning as I spun around. “Come on, join me!”

Wednesday’s expression remained stony, though there was a flicker of something akin to annoyance—or maybe intrigue—beneath her dark eyes.

“You want me to engage in this frivolous display of joy?” she asked, her tone laced with a heavy dose of skepticism.

I nodded, my hair already soaked. “Yeah! It’s fun, you know. Live a little.”

Wednesday stared at me, visibly torn between disdain and something less familiar. Finally, she let out a resigned sigh, setting the umbrella aside. “Very well. But don't expect me to enjoy this.”

I watched, delighted, as she stepped into the rain. Her dark hair quickly became wet, framing her pale face in sharp lines. She looked almost ethereal, like a gothic painting come to life.

“You’re actually doing it,” I said, still amazed she’d joined me.

“I’m merely proving a point,” she muttered, trying—and failing—to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upward.

We ran through the rain, hand in hand. Her grip was cold, firm, and oddly comforting. The rain poured down around us, soaking us to the bone. I glanced at Wednesday, her eyes glinting with something that almost resembled amusement.

“See? Isn’t this fun?” I laughed, feeling more alive than I had in ages.

Wednesday huffed, her attempt at a smile barely visible. “It’s… tolerable.” Her voice was quieter, almost lost in the sound of the rain.

I released her hand and spun around, letting the puddles splash up against my legs as I danced. I glanced back at Wednesday, half-expecting her to roll her eyes, but instead, she watched with something like fascination.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, but there was no venom in her words, just a dry observation.

I laughed, unbothered. “Yeah, but who says that’s a bad thing?”

For a moment, she stood there, just watching me, as if seeing me clearly for the first time. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, maybe even admiration, though she would never admit it.

Wednesday P.O.V.

Watching Y/N dance in the rain, utterly unrestrained and blissfully unaware of how foolish she looked, stirred something within me. It was an unfamiliar sensation, irritatingly close to… admiration.

She was always so composed, so confident. But here, she was raw, joyful, and unabashedly herself. It was maddening and captivating all at once. I couldn’t look away.

When she reached out to me, her hand dripping with rain, I hesitated. I was not one for touchy displays of affection, but there was something disarming about her expression.

Reluctantly, I took her hand again, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine, a stark contrast to the cold rain. She pulled me closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Dance with me.”

I scowled, resisting the pull. “I don’t dance,” I stated flatly.

“You don’t have to know how,” she replied, her tone annoyingly cheerful. “Just move.”

I let her lead me, feeling awkward and exposed. My limbs felt heavy, resistant to the idea of surrendering to something so… whimsical. But as we moved together, my body loosened, if only slightly. It was uncharted territory—dancing, in the rain, with someone who made me feel less like a shadow and more like a person.

And despite myself, I didn’t hate it. In fact, it was almost... enjoyable. I, Wednesday Addams, was enjoying myself. Absurd.

Y/N smiled at me, her laughter blending with the sound of the rain. “We’ll have to do this again. Same time, next storm.”

I gave her my best stoic glare, but I could feel the corners of my mouth betraying me with the faintest hint of a smile. “Don’t get any ideas,” I grumbled, though the words lacked their usual bite.

She chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, no ideas at all,” she said with feigned innocence, her tone dripping with false sincerity.

I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t help the flutter of anticipation that her words stirred. The idea of doing this again, of sharing these stolen moments, didn’t seem as intolerable as it should have.

The End ....

A/n: thank you for reading ✨🍂

Edit: I'm sorry if i-edit some of the scenes if u notice. 😭

[crushingcasanova]

I can’t stand those who are desperately looking for someone, anyone to obsess over to fix themselves, especially when they do not truly care for you. My general philosophy about this kind of thing is that no good thing comes so simply and quickly--you have to put in effort and get to know someone beyond initial attraction to what you believe they are like.

Get to know the real me. Leave behind all frivolous, superficial “flirting” and actually indulge yourself in learning about someone you find interesting. With time, I’ll tell you everything you need to know: what makes me tick, who I am, and so much more while I get to know you too. Don’t lead with the end goal of filling a hole in your heart, but lead with the hopes that we’ll work together as a pair.

We are not missing halves, we are two complimentary pieces. The moon and stars, the winter and summer, sweet and sour--each can exist without the other, but with one another they become something so much more beautiful. Don’t see me as yet another replacement for something you’ve lost, but rather as a new experience for you to love and cherish, and I’ll cherish you too.

But please: if you only want me because of what I can give you and not who I am, love yourself before trying to fill that space with something that won’t fit. A relationship started like that is only doomed to fail.

[rosesandashs-blog]

Pride(lost in limbo)/Reader !

As you followed Pride on his heels, you couldn’t help but notice the slump in his shoulders and the way his face seemed to avoid yours. It had been quiet the whole walk and it was beginning to make you antsy.

You didn’t mind the silence, especially when it came to peace with Pride who seemed to always have something on his mind or something to do, but this felt different.

The only way to find out the root of the issue was to ask.

“Pride, darling?”

You spoke it softly in the wind, a sound that could be carried away, but Pride was much too attentive for that to happen. His steps slowed to a stop and he turned to you. He had told you previously he found it rude to not look at someone while speaking.

“Yes, my dear?”

His gaze used to be much more intimidating but now, throughout everything you’ve experienced, you can understand when exhaustion is there. What looks like age-old wisdom is little more than the tiredness of someone stretched too thin.

“Let’s take a break. My legs hurt.”

It was your way of extending an olive branch to him. If you had suggested he may be the tired one, there definitely would be too much fuss. Too much of a gentleman to “ruin” your time together. For an age old god who was the father of all, he could be quite silly.

His eyes slid over your face and you didn’t flinch at his inspection. He hummed and sat down, gesturing for you to sit near him, which you did.

“I’m alright. You don’t have to worry over me.”

“I never suggested otherwise,” you hummed thoughtfully as your hand outstretched to his head, pushing him to lean against your shoulder. To your utter surprise (and soon delight), he followed easily and without protest, “it’s just nice to slow down for a minute.”

“Yes, I…well, it is nice.”

Your fingers were already carding through his hair, sinking easily into the silky feeling. You had once said you were surprised his hair never seemed to knot and he had asked you ‘what are knots?’

Based on the twinkle in his eye, you assumed it was a joke. Or maybe that’s what he wanted you to think.

As his shoulders slumped into a less formal stature and his body leaned into your own, submitting to the idea that he could be loved and safe in his own right, that is indeed when you pounced.

“Now, are you willing to be honest with me?”

“I… am alright. I was deep in thought and I didn’t wish to disturb you with anything frivolous,” he mumbled.

“Nothing you tell me is frivolous.”

“You’ll laugh at me, the old worry I am.”

“Please. Try me.”

Pride had this issue where he clamped up occasionally, either due to the separation that came from your age or your obvious mortality. Something. It was always an obstacle.

“I was simply thinking about how I didn’t want to return. That I could just walk with you, down an endless path, and I knew it was very selfish. I don’t want you to think I don’t care about others—“

“Hm, stop right there sir. It’s not selfish to crave a break from time to time, no?”

“It is for someone like me,” he said but not in a harsh tone. More like a carefully gift-wrapped neutrality.

“Well, I selfishly want you all to myself very often. Alone and trapped with me.”

“I would never view being with you as a trap. It’s a gift to be with you. It’s a gift to be loved by you,” Pride said in a serious tone that made your face feel warmer. It was amazing how he could just say things with no lilt in his voice nor a crack.

He just loved you.

“Well, we can stay here for a bit. My legs still hurt. Hm, my shoulders too. Actually, just about everything.”

You said in a fake thoughtful tone, side eyeing the man whose head rested on your shoulder and the way he contained a chuckle at your antics.

“I don’t see anything wrong with sitting for a few minutes. To stem the soreness, of course.”

You kissed the top of his forehead and smiled at how the affection seemed to shake him slightly.

“Of course.”

// aaaa I’m so excited for lost in limbo demo to become real and true please support them on kickstarter!!

[cinnamonroll-anon]

Hello! If its okay to request, Could you do fnaf?

With Springtrap, Scraptrap (and Glitchtrap/Burntrap ) react to Reader as William Afton's daughter. With the reaction of them with ghost of Afton (or Afton's fatherly love or any alike) to his adult daughter, who's working in Fnaf location(s) and also the only living/surviving family member

Lost to Time: Springtrap x Daughter!Reader (Platonic)

A/n: Of course I'd do fnaf! It's literally like my favorite! I know you asked for different versions of Springtrap and to keep things from being confusing I'll spilt them into a timeline order. Sorry if this isn't what you requested have a nice day anon!

Warnings: Platonic Paring, Angst, Gendered Reader but i still used GN pronouns

You were the youngest of the Afton family, being around 3 when the incident at Fredbears Family Diner hospitalized and killed Evan. You were treasured in the family, but you couldn't understand what was happening around you. At first, Evan was gone, then your mother left, soon Elizabeth disappeared and last but not least your father was presumed dead. The remaining family member at the time was Michael, but he was barely a teen, he couldn't take care of you.

He had learned about everything that had happened, from the divorce of his parents, the tragic accident that killed Elizabeth and the eventual madness of his father. Michael was glad that you were left out of all this and felt both happy and heartbroken by how young you were, you wouldn't remember this. He gave you up for adoption and requested that your last name would be changed, hoping to spare you the burden of your real family, and to correct the sins of his father.

You grew up into a normal family, you had never once doubted the legitimacy of your relation, but you had odd dreams. Times of different faces and colorful birthdays, patterned walls and floors. In the end it all drifted away like a fever dream, one that felt so close and real. You eventually came across Fazbear's Fright, a horror attraction based on a long urban legend of the town you recently moved to. You had much fun reading through the documentaries, yet the mystery of the man behind the slaughter was still unsolved. He was presumed dead, and you hoped it stayed that way. You didn't want to end up on the victim list.

You remember the first day you came to work, how the man on the phone was ecstatic to have actually found one of the old animatronics. You flicked the cameras to look at it, or as much as you could in the dimly illuminated space it sat in. It was horrible to look at, it was rotten and was practically on the verge of decay, which made it perfect for the attraction. The room that you were in was stuffy, the constant need to check on the ventilation was tiresome throughout the night. You would check the camera's and look at the rabbit suit, you swore it wasn't looking at the camera when you got here. You brushed it off as a lack of oxygen or the animatronic glitching and moving. Yeah, it probably could do that.

The next night you knew you weren't crazy or delirious, that thing moved on it's own. The most uncanny part of it was it's movement, it was too fluid for a rusting robot. Eventually you figured out a way between handling your hallucinations of paranoia and redirecting the animatronic throughout the attraction. It was a frivolous task, and you weren't sure how long you'd make it, until eventually it was looking at you through the glass in front of you.

He wasn't sure how long he was stuck in that closet but he was sure glad he wasn't trapped again, that was until he realized he was in another building, one that imitated the old locations. It was like this place was taunting him, reminding him of his past, of the horrible choices that had sealed his fate. As he tried roaming around the building at night he realized he wasn't alone, someone was watching through the cameras. A twisted idea came to Springtrap's mind, if he couldn't get out of the building by his own means, he could hunt down the guard here for sport.

He continued with this plan, promising himself that he was only killing whoever was there for their keys, yet he knew that deep inside of him he just wanted to quench a crazed desire. On some night's, when he didn't turn to follow the taunting noises of children's laughter he would make it to the glass that separated you two. He would observe you, quick glances to intense stares. The glass was obviously dirty, it was hard to make out your face, bit something deep down told him you were familiar. Were you one of the old guards? Or perhaps someone he was aquatinted with? No. You looked too familiar, almost as if he could put a name to your face. As these nights continued he not only grew more reckless but also more desperate to figure out who you were. Who were you to remind him of the time he was alive?

One night you were falling behind on your tasks finding yourself, having to decide between running the chance of that thing getting inside of the office or having clean air. You survival instinct kicked in and you chose to run the ventilation, gasping for breath as you hungrily breathed in, trying to get rid of the lightheadedness that fogged your brain. It was his chance, he swiftly moved into the office, acquaintance or not he was done being trapped inside the forsaken place. That was until he got a good look at you.

It was as if his very heart felt a sudden pain, a newfound sense of dread washing over him as he froze in place, looming over you too closely. You were terrified of this thing in front of you and you both entered a long and painful stare down. You couldn't be, but you were. His child, his youngest. What he used to find the most precious in his life. It was complicated, he was used to being this, being Springtrap, but right now he could only feel the presence of William. He couldn't hurt you, old memories flooding his mind as he inspected you. He ended up retreating back into the furthest room and you were panicking at the close call of your certain demise.

He sat and contemplated, he would remember how gently he held you when you first came into the world. How your laughter would light up his heart, he would've done anything to make you smile. You were so young and now you were so much older. He couldn't believe it, how he had practically forgotten you, so driven by his bloodthirst. He wondered what became of you, of Michael. Michael? Where was he? Was he with you? Did you grow up without them? Had you cried when everyone had left? As he sat he could almost cry, he had abandoned you, he had acted so reckless that he had carelessly thrown away all of his life. All of your life. The life of his entire family.

It drove him insane thinking and spiraling in that room. He would dig his hands into the moldy and matted fur of his so called body. He wasn't that man anymore, he was something else. He had made peace with that, but a part of him, this old spirit of William Afton would come to haunt him. It brought a new sense of terror to his situation, a headache to deal with who he was. He was Springtrap not William, but there would always he a sliver of William in him.

The next nights were odd for you, he wasn't moving around much, neither did he appear hostile. He would go up to the window and stare at you before walking away mindlessly. In a sense you were still his beloved daughter, even if you were the last of what remained from the past. Then one night, things became more creepier to you because he'd begin to do something that normal animatronics could do... He began to talk. And not preprogrammed daiolgue, this thing was talking on it's own. You wondered what would've been more unerving, this thing spouting out jumbled speech or showing signs of actual sentience.

It had started once again where the glass separated the two of you, his voice came out pained and raspy, truly worthy of his appearance. "Who are you?"

He already knew the answer in his heart, but he felt this strange need to connect with you. Either that or the sheer isolation of god knows how long, he wanted to get to know you better. That's how you would spend the night, talking to this animatronic. As you got a better look at him you began to notice something alarming, he had organs, decaying organs.

"What about family? Any lost members or accidents?" He wanted to know if you remembered, if there was any hope you knew about him.

"No, just a normal family in the suburbs, well as normal as we can be. I've seen my sibling chug down a whole litter of soda in one sitting, though." He was amused by you, but he was quickly losing hope in you, about you actually knowing who he was.

"Really? No divorce or family issue?" You've had to remember his split with his wife, these things are what children tend to remember... right?

"No, my parents love each other to bits, the only time I've seen them fight was over who ate thier ice cream before movie night." You were beyond weirded out by his specific questions, but that morbid curiosity kept you answering them. Maybe it's because you also would've interrogated this thing, had you not been felt like a cornered animal. You were lucky that the night was coming to an end but you needed to figure out what this thing was before you left.

"What even are you?"

"You could say I'm what little remains of the man I used to be." He answered as he looked over his own body in contemplation.

"And who would that be?"

"I was once known as William, William Afton." You felt the way your fists tightened and the sense of terror that struck you. You were now in very real danger. Stuck in a building with a murder. A child murderer.

"Why? Why haven't you killed me yet then?" Possibly the worst thing to ask a six foot animatronic with a serial killer for a resident.

"You remind me of someone, my youngest child, but I'm afraid they were too young at the time." He mused to himself before leaning closer to the window, making eye contact with you. It was chilling, those glossy and clouded silver eyes, eyes of a decaying corpse.

"What utter nonsense, I'd never be related to a monster like you!"

"Is that so? Then have you ever bothered to ask if you're related to your so called parents?"

"Don't you dare bring them into this!" You practically barked out to the now smug animatronic.

"Upset much? Not that it matters, I know my own when I see them. You look so identical from when you did before." He responded almost fondly as his gaze softened for a fraction of a second. As soon as the clock hit six you bolted out of the building and into your car in disbelief.

He had left you with more questions than answers. He was William Afton, the infamous killer and co-creator of the Fazbear company. That and how much he was digging into your own past, like he knew something was off. You didn't want to believe him, that atrocity, but you had decided to confront your parents that night.

You felt as though your world came crashing down. What do you mean you were adopted?!

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Why did you keep this away from me? I'm old enough to know. It wouldn't have changed how I viewed you, but this has to do with my biological family!" You were beyond distressed, you felt mortified by these new findings.

"Trust us we wouldn't have kept this away from you had it not been by his wishes."

"Who's wishes?" Who else's say in the matter could be more important than you knowing the truth.

"Your brothers wishes. Listen, you came from a... complicated background, he wanted to save you from that burden. He requested to have your name changed so that you'd have a better chance at life than him." You could tell by their look in their eyes that it came from a place of sincerity, this wasn't done to cause you any strife.

"Please, I just want to know the truth... How was my life before the adoption? Please." Eventually they sat you down, before explaining to you your foreign past.

They first explained the death of your two middle siblings, Evan and Elizabeth, how your mother had divorced your father. And lastly that your father had died tragically as well. This story wouldn't have been so disturbing had they not explained why this happened. Because you were an Afton, the daughter of William Afton. They tried to explain to you all the sickening details of your past and how eventually it was just Micheal and you. You felt tears in your eyes as your parents comforted you. You couldn't believe you were related to William Afton, and it felt worse knowing that he was still alive in that bunny suit.

You had understood why your past was considered better buried, it was the connections to a tragic family and evidence to the murders. Your parents told you how Micheal had told them everything, it felt like a secret they needed to hide from you to give you the semblance of a normal life. You wondered if Michael was still out there somewhere. Was he alright? You couldn't really bother asking those what if's, especially because you'd have to return to work tomorrow. Back with him.

It was an awkward meeting but he felt delighted to see you again. You talked with him cautiously, I mean he was now a rotting corpse and a killer. You ended up learning that as much as this was your father he had also changed, like his spirit lived on but not who he used to be. He talked about how he lamented not taking care of you, ignoring everything for his ultimate goal and eventually giving into his sinister desire. But in a bittersweet way he way glad you never got involved, unlike Michael, he still remembers how terrified Micheal was of him. You granted him some grace to get to know you, and deep down in his un-beating heart he was greatful, for a part of him still recognized you as his beloved child. He was not only more gentle towards you, but even caring about your life outside of this attraction. You'd end up telling him that it made sense why this attraction was so distant and familiar to you, it used to remind you of the old diner and birthday parties you had seen. Glimpses of your old life.

He found it odd how he cared for you even going as far as holding you close in his embrace. It brought small tears to his eyes when he did, when was the last time he held you or anyone in the past thirty years. He allowed his parental love for you to shine through and you allowed it to reciprocate, when you felt comfortable enough.

One day this little routine of yours changed, you were swapped with another night guard and given the day shift. It was odd, it's not like you saw him as your father, you knew he couldn't be that to you anymore, not after what he did, but still you wanted to know him. Like the small bit of your past you could talk to, the closest thing to your old family. As semi disappointed as you were you continued the week working, hoping to maybe sneak around to talk to springtrap, but to your horror the attraction was burned down. When you had arrived in the morning, there were police and firefighters. The attraction was burned to the ground only ashes and some old structure remained, charred and on the verge of collapse.

You went home with a sense of dread and grief in the pit of your stomach. The man you could've called your father could now be gone forever. You waited restlessly for any news, hoping that he was still alive somehow. You got an email letting you know that you were let off, nothing was salvageable, only small objects and that the original fazbear suit was gone, presumably burnt to nothing. You felt yourself swallow a lump at your throat, it wasn't fair, you had just found out the truth only to have it stripped from you again, your family stripped from you again.

Time would go on until you found another job at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza Place. You were honestly trying to cope with everything, the death of your father, the guilt of what he had done and not being able to find your brother Michael. You were hired as well as another man, he was a bit older than you and looked sickly, but you never commented on it. He would often wear a mask to hide his face, probably to hide whatever condition did that damage to him. You both would scavenge and build up the pizzeria, bringing old animatronics in. The one that caught your eye was a familiar bunny costume, a run down green one you never thought you were going to see again.

When you brought him in at first he wouldn't recognize you. It stung in your heart as he would become another one if the mindless animatronics thirsting for blood and vengeance. You stayed longer after your shift with your coworker, telling him that you just needed a couple of minutes before you left. You'd end up confronting him, or what he calls himself now, Scraptrap. It took some back and forth between you and this version of him.

"You can't just go ahead and ruin their lives, my life, and not possibly remember. Here I thought you actually changed, but you've showed me that the old William Afton didn't give up on his despicable goals!" That voice, he knew it, like a nagging feeling in his gut before he heard that name. William. William Afton. That's who he was. Nobody else knew, unless. He called you out by your name, too apologetically, stunned as he inspected you.

You turned and faced the estranged face of Scraptrap, he looked at you more softly, gently raising his hand before gently cupping your face. How could this be? Could fate really have been this cruel to merge your paths again? You couldn't help the tears, after all he's done he was still your father, and he wasn't dead.

You'd both would spend some time again with each other, making sure your coworker didn't catch the two of you talking. It would've been one really awkward conversation. You lamented Scraptrap, his mind was deteriorating, getting corrupted by his twisted impulses. You feared the little remnant of your father would fade into nothing and you'd be stuck with a deranged killer in his place. Scraptrap could feel that strange sense in his chest again, that desire to protect you, to show you compassion and care. Could he even be capable of that at this point? He felt like he was in too deep to back down now.

It was soon the end of the week, you were so proud of how far you and your coworker were able to get this place up and running. That was until the animatronics, or one of them began to talk, Scrap Baby. She carried an ominous and erie message, almost like the cards were in her favor until the communication cut off and another man began to talk, Henry. He had revealed in the message that Scrap Baby was Elizabeth, you swore you almost entered a breakdown again. Elizabeth? Elizabeth Afton? Your sister?

Both you and your coworker had collected all the possessed animatronics, with Henry wishing to set them free and to end William for once and for all. You could feel the way the building grew more hotter by the second and the escape route was mentioned and you began to panic. You tugged on the sleeve of your coworker, trying to get him to leave with you.

"We need to leave, now! I know this all seems crazy but we can still escape, come on!"

"I'm not going anywhere, I've made my peace with this."

"What are you even talking about?! We need to go now!" You could feel the way the fire was slowly approaching your office, you could hear the terrible noises those creatures made. It was agonizing, especially knowing that Scraptrap was one of them, but you couldn't afford to save him, not when you could barely save yourself.

"I want to stay here and let this whole tragedy end, I'm right where i need to be. There's nothing out there for me."

"You can't just say that!" You could practically taste the smoke, a sheer miracle you haven't started coughing.

"You don't understand! I'm William's son! I'm that monsters family, I've been working to undo the damage he's caused, to right his wrongs. I've been following his trail for all of my life and now... I just want to rest..." He said as he finally drew his face mask off. He looked horrible, his skin an unnatural color, down to his bones.

"Michael?" You felt the smoke begin to prick your eyes, this sudden revelation only adding fuel to your watering eyes. He looked at you in entire disbelief, he had used many different names, leaving this one behind, you couldn't have known.

"How? How do you know my name?" He asked hesitantly, looking you up and down, trying to see if he might recognize you from anywhere. Any hint to know how you knew his name.

"Micheal, I'm your sibling... An Afton." The way his eyes widened and tears began to spill from his eyes made your own cascade down your cheeks.

"No, no, this can't be you're not supposed to be here! You can't be here! You need to leave!" He urged as he looked around in fear, the fire was just outside the doors, illuminating the small room you were in.

"Hey! Wait! You need to get them out please! Show them the way out, please! I'm begging you!" Micheal cried out desperately, hugging you close, as he tried to protect you from the fire himself. There were too many emotions in this hug, from a ruinting hug to a comforting hug. He held you tightly, hand cradling the back of your head protectively. Guess big brother instincts always kick in.

"If you wish to get out... you need to get through the ventilation system, there will be a locked panel at the end of it, use the key in the desk to open it. Hurry, you don't have much time. I'm nearby." Henry's voice came in softly, and Micheal quickly rummage through the desk and handed you the key with shakey hands.

"You heard what he said, now go." He said through his tears, you couldn't help the sob that creeped through your throat.

"No please, Micheal I can't lose you too." He gently held your face in his hands, you could barely make him out through your watering eyes.

"Go now, I'll be okay... you were the only good thing that came out of all of this." He said with a somber smile, before leading you to a nearby vent. The fire had eaten up most of the building stability, you could hear the loud snapping and crashing throughout the building. You said your final goodbye to your brother before beginning to crawl through the tight space. It was too hot in here, the metal had heated up and the air was heavy. You were heaving as you made your way throughout the vents, you were on the verge of a coughing fit, being this high up where all the smoke was.

Your watery sight made it hard to distinguish turns, having to feel the burning metal to know where to go. Soon you were met with a vent that was locked, you could feel the cool night breeze from the outside and you fumbled with the keys and lock. You sighed desperately as you heard the lock click and fall before hastily shoving the damn thing open.

You fell down into some bushes, gasping heavily as clean air filtered through your lungs. Before you could process anything else you felt something pick you up by your arms, guiding you away from the blazing building. Henry walked you carefully until you reached a car and he sat you down inside the passenger seat. He did his best to comfort you through all of this, as you practically sobbed into his shoulder.

After a while sirens could be heard and as police arrived on the scene Henry began to talk to them. You were talked to by the police, looked at by paramedics and interviewed by a local news channel. It was obvious Henry was here only to put up a front that this was an accident and not planned. After a long while the police and emergency crew let you off by Henrys request. Now you were in your apartment looking at the interview that they did with Henry.

"This accident is an unfortunate one, everything in that building was reduced to nothing. I'm happy to say that one of our employees made it out safely and no other critical damage were sustained. Unfortunately, one employee remained stuck in that building. We have suffered a tragic loss at Fazbear Entertainment..." You watched apathetically having already been through your breakdown with Henry. You swore you told him everything yet it wouldn't be enough to calm that guilt and restlessness in your heart. He hopped that with everything gone, you'd eventually find peace and that the past could finally be put to rest.

It had been years, you just about made peace with what had happened. Yet like you always do, you always found yourself looking for things of the past. "Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex", your new job. You had worked here for a little over a year, having seen the development of animatronics. You were a security guard, you were quickly introduced to the animatronics, getting to know them. Their ai was convincing, they almost perfectly simulated being alive. This was a much better alternative than the horrible option of possession from the past.

You used to work the night shift, until she got more involved... Vanessa. She was the reason you were swapped from the night shift to the day shift. There were a handful of sketchy findings during the night shift and she had managed to pin the blame on you. Luckily you had the animatronics and fellow staff vouch for you, so instead your shift changed. Better than getting entirely fired, but your boss wanted to revoke your security acess. You had aready gotten a bad feeling about this place. The disapearances and strict security, you had managed to climb your way to the highest security access and you weren't about to let it go to waste. So instead of handing it over you made up an excuse, wether it was that you had accedienly left the card in your uniform as it was washing or having simply lost it, they seemed to have believed it, not prying anymore.

It was helpful to have it at hand, usually if you accidentally left something at work, you could always come back during the night shift to collect it. Vanessa hasn't caught you once, and the animatronics don't seem to question your access or the fact that you're there. You were grateful, until one night you had forgotten your storage keys while on your day shift. You had recently moved from your old apartment to your first house, had you been working the night shift you could easily get work out of the way while also having all day to unpacking. But seeing that this isn't how life was for you, you lost track of those keys to a rented storage unit. You had dressed up in you uniform before taking your security pass and shoving it into your pocket.

You slowly parked your car in the vacant parking lot of the Pizzaplex, god, it was so dark and eerie. The front doors had already been closed for a while, luckily there was always staff entries. You thank the heavens that they didn't confiscate your pass as the locked door unlocked with an audible click before you made your way inside the building. You could take a guess why Vanessa hasn't caught you, first off this place was huge, but you wondered if any staff actually looked over the security footage. You also had quite footsteps, years of experience from moving around your family home at night. What could you say, you needed those midnight snacks. It took a while before you had arrived at your office, sighing in relief as you aquired your keys, that was until you heard a noise approaching the office. You guessed it to be Moon, he'd always got a kick out of scaring you whenever you came in, even before the dayshift change.

"Okay okay, look I heard you from a mile away. So why don't you put your hands in the air mister?" You called out into the hallway seeing a figure... but that didn't look like moon. And correct you were, it was Roxy, but she was torn down. You were in such a state of shock as you saw her, that you almost didn't duck out of the way as she dashed at you. She sounded furious as she chased you, until you were able to baricade one of the doors. Taking in desperate breaths as you jogged away from the door, the sounds of her banging and crying muffleing with the noises of the Pizzaplex. The animatronics weren't supposed to be roaming around at all. What the hell was actually going on tonight?

This is how you'd spend the night, ducking away from the animatronics as you ran into them. They kept calling out for a kid, was there a boy stuck here? You had to get out, but more than anything, you wanted to figure out what was exactly going on. That was until you heard quick footsteps approach you, heavy ones. As you turned to look at the incoming animatronic, you gasped as Freddy came to a hault in front of you. He didn't look any better but he wasn't acting strange like the others.

"Officer! I didn't think I'd run into you tonight!"

"God! You scared me! And trust me when i say this wasn't planned at all. Anyway, can you mind explaining what the hell is going on? No ones supposed to be out of thier rooms, and whats all this I'm hearing about some kid?" You aksed as you looked up at the animatronic, hands on your hips as if you were interrogating a child.

"Officer, I'd love to tell you but... you're not working with Vanessa, are you?" He ased almost nervously before you heard what you believed was tapping in his chest. You brushed it off as something broken or any other logical explanation.

"No Freddy, I'm not. I don't like her, not since she got me booted off of the night shift, that and I'm not exactly supposed to be here either."

He seemed to be relaxed by your words before he had a sense of urgency. "Come with me to parts and service and I'll explain everything", he spoke as he already began to walk away, before starting to run.

You quickly followed after, making your way with him to the stage before descending to part's and service. As you both arrived there you looked over at him while catching your breath.

"So, why did we need to come down here for?"

"Just promise me you won't freak out..." You only blinked up at him before nodding hesitantly before his chest cavity opened, AND WAS THAT A CHILD IN THERE?! You've seen Freddy fit all kinds of cakes in there, but not a full kid. It took some coaching from Freddy for the kid to talk.

"Gregory, it's alright. You can trust this guard, I've known them for quiet some time. They'll help us!"

The kid introduced himself as Gregory, before he explained his situation and everything that's been happening throughout the night. How he was evading Vanessa and some strange white rabbit lady, that and that he's been upgrading Freddy. Oh, that explains the state of the others... and Freddy's purple hands....

You'd end up tagging along with the both of them until finally 6AM. God you were ready to just run out and get Gregory as far as you could from this place until he realized, Freddy couldn't come with. So you both stayed inside the Pizzaplex, trying to solve any other hidden mystery hidden in this place. After giving Freddy his final upgrade and much exploring you were all able to find an old elevator, with only one trip left in it. As you all descended, deeper down, with the music distorting, you couldn't help but feel that similar sense of dread building at the pit of your stomach.

You weren't sure what you'd run into while down there, but you most certainly didn't expect a wastland of inferstucture. As you and Gregory worked around trashed endos, you were finally able to get the generators up and running again, making your way over to what seemed to be a room with tables and a stage. Like a private showroom of shorts. Not only that but there was a gaping whole in the floor, that led to god knows where. Soon Gregory hopped inside of Freddy, a sight you were sure you'd never get used to, and began climbing your way down into this unknown. Freddy soon recalled that this place was familar to him, that she had brought him here, Vanessa. The more you heard of her, the more she left a horrible taste in your mouth.

The worst part was yet to come, you swore you could hear gushes of wind, but as you made your way down to the bottom, it wasn't just a broken vent. It was breathing. Large and monstrous inhales and exhales. Almost like a low rumble, on the verge of a growl. Like that thing was dormant. You weren't even sure what you were looking up at, it was nothing short of an atrocity. A mess of metal and wires, with the occasional Freddy Mask littered over its meshed body. And whatever Freddy was saying was definitely not helping. Soon the wooden planks underneath you began to tremble and crack, giving in to the additional weight as you all tumbled down into a different floor. As you got up from your rough landing, your ears ringing from the sudden noise and adrenaline, you shook yourself up and looked around... Another security office?

As you all apprached the desk, you say something moving throgh the cameras. Something getting out of a recharge station. As you took in its withered shape and remaining organs you gasped in horror at the sight before you. No, it couldn't be... He couldn't have survived. But he did, and the proof of that was his jagged movements on the cameras. William Afton had lived. You weren't wrong with your initial guess of his ever deteriorating mind, slowly slipping into madness. You could barely even recognize him as springtrap, less your father. No, this thing that stood before you wasn't your father, it was the furthest thing from him.

As you were frozen in place, just watching that thing move, Gregory made quick work of the other animatronics, shutting the doors on them or hiding from them. You noticed how Burntrap was rummaging through different rooms and different buttons were near their respective cameras. You preseed the button, and flames soon enveloped the room. You swore it was just out of curiosity the first time, but now you knew what you needed to do. You kept at it for as long as you could, that horrible creature from before slowly making its way into the room. Eventually the fires that were set off didn't go out, instead setting the Pizzaplex on fire. As Freddy and Gregory began to dash out of the Pizzaplex you couldn't help but look back one last time, seeing Burntrap reach out uselessly before getting taken away by that thing.

You could strangely still pitty him, before you turned on your heel and began to catch up to Freddy and Gregory, escaping the collapsing Pizzaplex. You had all made it out safely, albeit dirty. You managed to fit them both in your car, before speeding away from the location. The sky was slowly illuminating, signs that it was clearly morning.

"Hey... is it okay if we can stop to watch the sunrise?" Gregory asked after much of the drive being in silence. You looked over at him, after all you've been through, this was all he wanted? It was simple but endearing, you nodded before driving off to a park, it was huge, so there would be no problem bringing Freddy out woth you. Speaking of Freddy, he was beyond excited to see the world outside the Pizzaplex.

After a while of walking your little group made it to a hill with a single tree. You didn't realize how tired you were until you finally sat down on the grass. You heaved out a tried sigh, letting your hands feel the dewy grass. You looked over next to you, seeing Freddy and Gregory talking happily before they both quickly hushed as the first beams of the sun began to rise from the horizon.

It was breathtaking. It truly had been to long since you've appreciated such a small yet meaningful thing in your life. You finally allowed your mind to process what had happened, and you began to cry... had it been out of relief, happiness or grief was a mystery to you, but you felt odly at peace... maybe this could all finally be put to rest. Maybe this would be the end. You knew you'd still have to take care of Gregory and Freddy, that and look for a new job, but it all felt like it would be alright in the end.

back

[eastwindmlk]

Okay! So, for day 30 of @jilytoberfest I had someone explain what the song was about. No promises on my interpretation being correct. Anyway I wrote 933 words about prompt: 🎶"where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me"🎶 - The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

Losing a Quidditch match always wore on James, who took it as a personal failure whenever his team did not come out on top. That had been true while they’d been at Hogwarts, where she supposed he had the excuse of being the team captain. It felt only natural for him to take it as a personal loss.

Now though? He was just a rookie player for the Tutshill Tornados. He was not responsible for anything but doing his best and showing up on time. And he had, at least, Lily thought he had. The other team had simply been better.

Still, she recognized the pained smile and the way his feet dragged across the threshold of their cottage all too well. She'd seen it plenty before.

“James,” she started trying to catch his attention but he didn’t look at her, toeing off his boots before pushing past her to mope on the windowsill.

She supposed some things never changed. He'd done the same thing back at Hogwarts. They all knew not to bother him when he sat in the window. Normally she would give him the space but today was supposed to be different.

“You played well,” she tried again in the hopes of cheering him up a little.

He sucked his teeth, the sound sharp and irritated. “Not well enough,” James muttered under his breath, his head leaned against the cold window while his gaze found something miles away. “If I’d just-”

Lily didn’t want to listen to it, he’d go on and on about all the things he thought he could do better when it hadn’t even been his fault they lost in the first place. So, she chose to stop him before he gained momentum. “I have a present for you.”

James’ eyes snapped to hers, the reflection on his glasses flashing at her. “I don’t think a present is in order, Evans. In case you missed it, we lost,” he snapped and for a moment Lily considered agreeing with him.

If she could have agreed with him, she would have. Lily was about ready to stomp away to make them tea, postponing the surprise. However, the way her stomach roiled, bile rising in her throat, reminded her of why she should be pushing it.

She’d planned this all out and her first opportunity was snatched away when James was injured out of the last game. Lily refused to wait any longer just because they did not celebrate a victory.

“It is now Potter, actually,” she corrected him smugly and watched the tightness in his jaw subside slowly. The corners of his lips drawing up subtly. “I know that you’d hoped for a win, we all were, but I know you will want this gift regardless.”

She could see the sureness of her tone pique his interest and watched him, finally, shift his full attention to her. “Alright, go on then,” he relented, his hand extending impatiently in her direction.

From her bag, Lily produced a soft rectangular package, the paper printed with snitches whose wings fluttered and shimmered. Normally she would not give into something so frivolous, she preferred the non-moving muggle wrapping paper.

But this was a special occasion.

James inspected the gift thoroughly, turning it around in his hands, and giving it a gentle squeeze while his eyebrows pinched together curiously. She wanted to enjoy his curiosity, give him the time but her Gryffindor courage faltered. She needed him to open it. “James, please can you just… Please,” she pressed, her hands folding together in front of her to stop herself from fidgeting.

An amused look crossed James’ features, the smile tugging at his lips more than a little mischievous. He mercifully obliged nonetheless and tore off the paper to reveal a tiny version of his jersey. The blue and orange somehow looked bolder in this size.

“I hate to break it to you, love. I am not sure whether this will fit,” he admitted, and if Lily had been less nervous she might have snorted at that.

Now, she could do nothing but offer a tight smile. She stood there frozen in place and waiting for him to get it.

James turned it over and she could see the realisation hit when the bold letters read ‘Potter Jr.’. His fingers gripped tighter onto the soft fabric of the onesie, eyes lifting slowly to meet hers, asking. Then the scramble across the room when she beamed at him, a nearly imperceptible nod.

Before she could blink his arms crushed around her, lifting her off her feet. Her stomach lurched when he spun her around and she willed herself not to ruin this moment with a bout of morning sickness.

Lily was very grateful when he placed her back on her feet. She wrapped her arms around James’ neck partly for balance, partly to keep him close. She only allowed him far enough away from her to look her in the face.

“You’re?” he asked, she nodded.

“Seven weeks,” she answered and watched the hallway light dance in his teary eyes. James nodded, uncharacteristically speechless and slack jawed. His eyes searched her face and she wondered what he was looking for. “I hope this cheers you up a little," she said, uncertainty creeping into her voice.

his eyes stopped searching, lips cracking into a smile as rushed forward to answer her. His lips warm and firm against hers. “I don't need a trophy, I don't think it'll ever measure up to this,” he spoke against her lips before taking them once more, swallowing her sigh of relief.

[songfell-ut]

Okay ONE more genderbend

No, I have not embarked upon assembling gay Songfell piece by piece instead of writing Songfell, I just had another brain rot that's actually been incredibly helpful: in addition to moving and my arm possibly needing surgical intervention (ortho is not being super helpful), I've been focused so much on Songfell's plot that what I've got just doesn't look right.

Well, making my teeny AU made me realize that I've been so busy plotting, I forgot the luv. This has reminded me of why I wrote the dang story in the first place: we all want to see a giant monster simping over a determined, musically inclined human. I will be fixing up chapter 35 and hopefully getting 'er up this month.

...but yes with the help of @skyartworkzzz I did dictate and sort of type this huge drabble, almost a one-shot, and you can't stop me it's too late ah ha ha ha

“Yer doin’ it again.”

Frisk was so lost in thought that it took him a moment to realize Sans had said something, and another to properly hear it. “Doing what again?” the priest inquired, sitting up from his half-slouch over the table.

The giant skeleton sauntered over and tapped the wood surface. Frisk thought at first that he meant the plates from dinner they hadn’t cleaned up yet, but no: Sans was looking at Frisk’s hands. “That thing with yer fingers. Ya wiggle ‘em sometimes when you’re really out of it.” Sans demonstrated with a waggle of his own phalanges, seating himself not far away. “Are ya mad about somethin’? If you wanna wring somebody’s neck, I can do it for ya,” he added generously.

Frisk snorted, scratching his ribs through the shirt he wore under his robe, noticing how Sans’ gaze instantly followed the motion. Better stay on topic; he wasn’t eager for more questions about why human males only sort of had boobs or whether there was as much hair on his chest as his head. “I think I’ve made my stance on murder clear, Sans,” said the High Priest, trying very hard to sound stern.

“Nope, doesn’t wring a bell,” the skeleton said cheerfully, and was rewarded with a snrrk that made him grin about a mile wide. “Ha! I win. Now ya hafta tell me what you’re doin’.”

“That was a good one,” Frisk admitted, rubbing his nose. “All right, then.” He looked at his hand, sobering a little, tapping the thumb and forefinger together. “Here.” With no further warning, he snapped his fingers so hard that Sans flinched. “Sorry,” said the priest, offering a rueful smile that made Sans scowl back. “I just took the barrier off the closet in the corner of my office. Would you please go and open it for me, and bring me what’s inside?”

Nonplussed, the boss monster obediently vanished. A few long moments later, he reappeared with something that looked like a toy in his massive hands. “Ta-da,” he said gravely, trying to hold it properly.

Frisk laughed and took the guitar from the skeleton’s loose grasp. “Thank you,” he said, tilting it onto its side. Something rattled, and he turned the instrument over to shake out a small tortoiseshell pick. “This, sir, is the answer you seek. Sometimes when I’m tired, I’ll think about playing it.” He slid off the chair to retrieve the pick and find a patch of floor to sit cross-legged. “I haven’t touched this in months,” he murmured, stroking the long neck.

He missed Sans’ swift glance at his lap, and how the skeleton’s cheekbones flickered with a few shades of red before he said, “Weird. I get bein’ too busy, but why’s it locked up? Habit?”

“Sort of. When I first moved up here, I thought the servants might take it.” Sans made a disbelieving sound, and Frisk clarified, “I don’t mean they’d steal it. I was afraid that if His Holiness knew it was here, he’d have them remove it.”

The skeleton disbelieved louder. “The hell? Does the Church think they’re evil or somethin’?” He settled on the floor a few feet away.

“Not evil, no,” said Frisk, still examining the guitar, “just…frivolous. If I had a piano or a cello up here, that would be one thing, but this is considered uncouth.” The young man plucked gingerly at the top string, and winced. “Now that’s bad. Positively E-vil.” He plucked again, then fiddled with a knob.

Sans had a good chuckle at that, and didn’t hide his further amusement at how the sound wobbled up and down, but he stayed quiet while Frisk hummed under his breath and turned another knob, wibb-wobbling the string’s pitch till it was as accurate as the young man could get by ear. Then Frisk tried the next string, humming, adjusting till it was in tune with the E; when the next string proved accurate almost immediately, though, he caught Sans’ disappointment and very, very gently turned the knob the wrong way to make it go wooooaaaaooo.

The boss monster cackled in appreciation. “Do it again,” he urged Frisk, reclining on his side and scooting closer for a better look.

“I can’t do it too much,” Frisk replied. Far from minding an audience literally looming over him, he found himself rather pleased to show Sans how the knobs worked. “This works by tightening or loosening the strings, see?” He demonstrated again, letting the skeleton lean in close enough to almost bump heads. “I haven’t replaced these in a while, but I don’t have any spares. I should probably take care of that before I play anything.”

Sans cocked his enormous head. There was a long moment of Frisk conspicuously not stopping and in fact continuing to tune the thing, and the boss monster nodded in understanding that guitar strings were probably not okay, either; however, the truth was that he was watching with such interest that Frisk was too flattered to stop. It was stupid to toodle around with a poorly maintained instrument just to show off, but all.he could think was that he should’ve known Sans wouldn’t care whether this was a waste of time or not, or that he could barely play anything.

The skeleton was evidently thinking the same thing. “So your boss wouldn’t want you doin’ this?” he asked. “The hell does he care as long as yer work’s gettin’ done? He’s not your friggin’ dad. …Is he?”

Frisk played a few mildly amused notes. “No. But I was only nineteen when they made me High Priest, and he thought I was going to be easy to manipulate.” Sans snorted in such derision that Frisk felt a little tingle of pride. “It was exactly the sort of thing he would have done to keep me in my place,” the latter continued. “He’d also tattle to my actual father, and he would have said something. But I’m of age now, so…” He tried another chord, and let it trail off.

“Why’d they teach you ta play it if it’s that bad?” the boss monster persisted. “Ya know all yer music stuff from school, right?”

Frisk tapped the pick absently on the guitar’s belly. “Yes, but not from the monks. I learned it when we were all working in the kitchen.”

Sans lifted a browbone. “Was that a normal thing? Learnin’ discipline or humility or somethin’?”

“Well, yes, and no.” The young man tried a short scale, correcting the last note. “Everyone in our dormitory was being punished. We had to go down after dinner and clean up after the entire monastery.” He couldn’t help wincing. “I hadn’t done anything wrong, so they let me sit with a lay worker who played guitar to entertain everyone. I sang with him and watched how it was done, and nobody told on me for a few months.”

“‘Lay’ worker?” Sans’ tone was much too innocent, and he answered Frisk’s don’t you dare squint with a cheerful “I didn’t know gettin’ laid was a church job.”

The High Priest snorted so hard that he almost dropped the pick. “That’s not what that means,” he informed his apprentice, barely fighting down his amusement before he resumed, “It just means someone employed by the church who hasn’t taken any vows.” But his smile faded to a grimace. “You’re actually not far off. That’s…” Frisk played a few more notes at random. “I think I was seventeen. There was a bad cold going around the monastery. Most of the acolytes got over it in a few days, but everyone in charge – the abbot, the higher deacons, et cetera – all caught it at once.” He strummed an overly dramatic chord. “I’m still impressed how bad things got. It was chaos for a solid month. Anyone who wanted to really misbehave had a good time.”

“Yeah?” To Frisk’s disappointment, the skeleton moved away and turned to lie flat on his spine, stretching his huge limbs across the workroom floor. “So who got laid? Thought humans don’t count it if you’re both guys.”

Frisk was now glad that Sans wasn’t watching: his entire head felt beet-red. “No, it was women working in the outbuildings,” he said with decent composure, trying another chord. “They were supposed to stay out of the monastery, but someone bribed the guards into letting them ‘visit’ back and forth. When the abbot found out, he sent off every female in a five-mile radius and had us take over their work. But then they started writing letters claiming paternity—I think there were over thirty acknowledged pregnancies after the dust settled.”

It was Sans’ turn to snort. “Holy shit. That fast?”

“That fast,” Frisk said shortly.

The boss monster scrunched up his nasal bone, obviously remembering what Frisk had told him about humans’ treatment of unwed mothers. “Well, that was a shitty thing to do. Not like any of those guys could marry ‘em, right?”

Frisk hesitated. How to put this? “Yes, but the ladies knew that. For a lot of them, it was a…we’ll call it a different opportunity,” he said, much more rueful than judgmental. “Noble families want their sons educated at the monastery, but it’s also to keep them from having their own children.” He flipped the pick over the backs of his fingers, a trick he was inordinately pleased to still do. “I will say this. If someone does leave a girl in difficulty, he’s expected to provide at least something for her and the child. Their families had a lot of questions.” He sighed in exasperation. “Word got all the way back to His Majesty. It was a huge mess. You could say the ‘lay’ worker was the only one who shouldn’t be called that.”

He expected Sans to laugh, but when Frisk peeked at him, the boss monster seemed more pensive than amused; his sockets were fixed on the basket of letters. It took Frisk a second to guess what he might be thinking, and when Sans finally shifted back onto his side to look at him, he found the priest glaring at him, daring him to even ask about his own participation. “Glad nobody was a hardass about you gettin’ blamed,” the skeleton said amiably, and Frisk relaxed a little. “Ya know what? Never mind all that crap.” Sans shifted and settled onto his side again. “Knock yerself out on that thing, I don’t care. I’m not gonna tell on ya.”

The young man sat for a moment, tapping the pick against the strings one after another. Sans was right: no need to get into how he had had to literally hide from his peers trying to drag him along to meet some of their new “friends,” or how his father – a prolific creator of children – had publicly commended Frisk for behaving like a true man of the Church, but hinted privately that he would understand if his son started sowing some oats in the very near future. It wasn’t just normal for a gentleman of his rank, but more or less expected to prove his manhood and create more magically gifted progeny of his own, whether or not he was married. Being a busy clergyman had saved Frisk from direct pressure thus far, but— “Here’s a good one,” he said to the skeleton, who obligingly scooted closer. “Don’t laugh, if you please.”

“Not unless it’s funny,” Sans said lazily.

Fair enough. Frisk shut his eyes for a moment, letting his fingers arrange themselves the way they had whenever he could sneak in some practice back when he was just a priest, a former student who could have a damn second to himself that he didn’t have to account for. People had popped their heads in to check if he really was just playing a borrowed guitar, but he was regarded as such a goody-goody that nobody gave him a hard time. He had stumbled across a few young men taking private moments for themselves or with each other, but he never told…

Well, no point getting angry now. It was too nice to sit near-ish the fire and do nothing useful, just empty his mind of everything but what to do to make the sounds he wanted to play. He wasn’t alone, either; the massive skeleton looming over his shoulder was a warm, solid presence that made the High Priest feel less like he was being monitored and more protected, accepted for whatever he wanted to do—just the pleasure of his company. That was what he’d told Sans back when he gave him his new clothes, wasn’t it?

Now there was an idea, so interesting that Frisk barely noticed himself picking out the bare bones – ha – of a favorite old song. He should really get Sans another set of clothing, something he could change into that wasn’t ragged canvas or just nothing at all. Not that Sans was particularly modest: he hadn’t been bothered by the notion of Frisk forcibly removing him from the bathroom, reminding the human that they were both male and he didn’t have anything private to see. Was that why he kept asking Frisk questions about humans that he could find in any of his textbooks? The notion of fleshy bits that changed consistency and produced weird fluids at inconsistent intervals couldn’t be an appealing one, not to a being made of solid bone.

…

Why did that thought suddenly bother him?

…Dirt, he’d just played a very bad note. The priest mumbled an apology and adjusted his grip, chagrined at ruining a peaceful moment with more of that nonsense. Not for the first time, he reminded himself that it was not all right to let his imagination charge off after someone who was not just under his care, but in his power; it was immoral at best to use Sans to investigate whether his libido – always plenty strong, simply refusing to attach itself to anyone, no matter how attractive they were – might just be resistant to humans. He’d keep relaxing and enjoying his apprentice’s literal support—Sans was close enough that Frisk caught himself about to lean back against his gigantic lower ribs. That was what most top scholars called a “no-no.”

…Was it, though? When Frisk glanced up, he saw Sans closing his sockets, and the skeleton’s expression and body language were so peaceful that Frisk had to smile again. Never mind thoughts of fleshy bits and bones, just enjoy having him here. No more recurring thoughts of how monsters didn’t care about gender or how fond of him Sans might be. No wondering what bone felt like on fleshy bi—on totally normal skin, or whether Sans would let him poke the gaps in his metacarpals…or what bone might feel like on his hands, maybe running along his—

And something happened that Frisk had never experienced before, at least contextually. He was a healthy young man, and he had had his body act out at complete random just as often as anyone else; what had not happened was specifically thinking of one person who was right here and then having a specific reaction to that specific person. And it wasn’t—stopping at all, it was getting worse and he had to focus harder (ha!) on distracting himself. Maybe if he played louder?

There was a sharp sound and a burst of pain, and Frisk dropped the guitar, Sans jerking upright as the priest clutched his hand. “Frisk! What happened?! You okay?”

“I’m fine. The string snapped,” Frisk said tersely, holding it up for the skeleton to see the near-bleeding welt on the back of his hand. At least it was the ideal excuse to rise to his knees and lean forward enough for his nightshirt to hang forward, because the burst of adrenaline had not quieted anything down. “It’s my fault, I even said I shouldn’t play the damn thing—”

And of course, that was Sans’ cue to scowl and give Frisk another jolt by seizing his wrist between his thumb and forefinger, holding him utterly still in a huge, inescapable, but gentle grasp. It was for the best that Frisk froze in place, heat flooding his senses as the boss monster summoned a wisp of green magic. “There we go,” he said after a moment. “All better?” And it might have been okay if he hadn’t absently rubbed Frisk’s forearm with his thumb.

Neither of them would ever be sure exactly how Frisk did it, but the next second, he was somehow on his feet and turning away in a blur of “Thankyouvermch”; before Sans could get a solid look at him, the human was already disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door.

~

Sans knelt in silence long enough for the blankness to recede and confusion to step into its place. What the fuck was that? Was Frisk really that upset over one crappy judgment call?

…Or…Sans had been watching very close – almost got caught that one time – and he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t seen something. He had read that human males just kind of did that sometimes without meaning to and it was considered hugely embarrassing, which would explain why Frisk had run off like that. Funny, he had never had that problem before in all the time Sans had spent around him, though the boss monster had admittedly tried to avoid looking.

Humans were weird. Sans picked up the guitar very delicately, examining the broken string. Stupid damn thing, he had half a mind to throw it in the fireplace—but that would probably not help. Besides, Frisk had been really happy whenever he wasn’t talking about other humans being stupid. Sans had never seen him so relaxed; it was almost a given that the only people who could boss Frisk around didn’t want him to.

At least Frisk had felt comfortable enough to play with it in front of him. …The guitar. Comfortable enough to play the guitar. Yep. It kind of suck—it was kind of shitty that the dumb thing was unusable now, and fucking stupid that someone this rich and powerful couldn’t get something so simple without…hmmm. Sans daintily retrieved the pick, and got up.

~

Frisk was debating how to leave the bathroom in the most face-saving way when a sound made him nearly fall over: the workroom’s double doors were open and Sans was talking, presumably to the guards. What the—the priest grabbed a towel, speed-dabbed the rest of the cold water away, adjusted his garments, and…hesitated, milliseconds before striding into view wearing his nightclothes. Instead he listened, and thus heard a guard saying, “…you mean…er…sir?”

“Is there some other meanin’ of ‘Gimme some new strings for this thing’?” Sans’ voice was so exaggeratedly polite that Frisk didn’t know whether to laugh or bang his head on the doorframe. “His Eminence has graciously allowed me t’learn about human stuff, and all I can learn from this thing is that guitars need all the strings or they sound like crap. So the next time somebody delivers stuff up here, they can bring ‘em. Right?”

Frisk could almost hear the guards giving each other uncertain looks. “Er…”

“Right. Thank you!” With obscene cheer, the giant skeleton slammed the doors shut. Then he opened them again. “Oh. Wait. Here.” The dirty dishes flew from the table to the trolley, which was shoved out, and the doors slammed again. “There we go, boss,” Sans said over his shoulder. “You good now?”

“…I am. Thank you.” The human took a deep breath, and let it out. “I’m going to take a bath. Read the chapter on topical analgesics, please, and we’ll discuss it before bed. …Sleep. Before we sleep.” And he shut the door again before Sans could respond. He had a lot to think about.

[novelizt]

THE COMPLICATIONS OF A FAKE ENGAGEMENT ☁︎ ANTHONY LOCKWOOD

⚜ PART TWO

GENRE ➺ fluff + hoax engagement

SYNOPSIS ➺ you shouldn't be that beautiful in a bridal gown for a wedding that's fictitious to begin with

WARNING ➺ fem reader

DISCLAIMER ➺ I haven't read the books so the characterization/alignment in the books may not line up and it's been a while since i've written anything. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

NOTES ➺ inspired by the try-on wedding gown scene in “extraordinary attorney woo”

   When a 17-year-old signs up to be a ghost hunter, the last thing she expects is to wind up in a bridal boutique. Especially not with her employer improvising the role of her fiancé.

   Lost between fabrics of silk and satin is the story of how you ended up here. You're on the brink of insanity when Lockwood finally does his job as your make-believe fiancé. Chipping in with a compliment, blowing kisses, and raining applause. On a normal day, you could act as if all this was fine and that the flurry of frivolous women weren't tiring. But the dresses were heavy and the lights were blinding. You had his ring, and the look on his face was convincing—but twelve dresses in, and you were ready to crumple into a heap.

   "Why the rush to marry?" Kelly—you think her name was—asks. She was the ringleader for the entire dress-fitting business.

She tightened the corset around you and clipped the fabric around your bust tighter. You couldn't even speak! Luckily enough, Lockwood took note of your lack of oxygen and answered for you. "We're trained agents."

   Kelly pulled the cinches tighter. You wheezed your last wisp of air, gripping the fabric for release. "As in the paranormal kind?"

   Lockwood's eyes shone with pride. "Exactly that! You never know what could happen on a case. Might as well marry while we're breathing, no? Oh- please let my girl breathe, she's turning blue."

   The corset loosened and you sagged in visible relief. Nodding in acknowledgement, you said, "Many thanks."

   "No worries, darling. Wouldn't want you dying before the flower picking." He smiled at you, and you withheld the urge to glare at him. "Have you found what you're looking for, love?"

   You look at the rack and consider just lying... but there was a reason you were here. Judging by his still jumping knee, he hasn't found evidence at all.

   Signing yourself to your fate, you sighed. "No..."

   Kelly jumps with glee. Dragging you behind the curtains before Lockwood could get another word in. The last thing you see of him is a grateful grin. He disregards the simper you throw his way.

   When he's sure you're distracting Kelly, he slips back to the file rooms. Shuffling through documents whilst keeping his ears open. It's not that hard to guess whether Kelly got you into another gown or not. The woman is exorbitant and loud.

   He's got his hands on an incriminating sheet of evidence as he hears it. Kelly's compliments and your terrible attempts at buying him more time. Lockwood stuffs the sheet into his coat pocket and breaks for the lounge. In time for the velvet curtains to draw.

   His eyes are adjusting to the brightened lights again. Yet, all is right when you're unveiled. Sheets of ivory silk rolling down in waves curl around your figure like it's made for you. It's less extravagant than the previous choices but it highlights you the best.

   Whatever fake reaction dies in his throat and his jaw hangs open. Eyes leading up to your giggling face as Kelly pushes a row of spray roses into your hands to "complete the look." He knows all this is pretend. He can't help but wonder how different it would be if ghosts and ghouls didn't invade the world. If the pair of you were a normal boy and a normal girl. If you two weren't 17 and only here for another case. If you were actually dressed in that ivory gown, coming down an aisle as red as the curtains. In an alternate world, would it be reality?

   He's considering the probability of it when you drop the roses to your midsection. Allowing his mother's old ring to gleam in the light before he pulls his eyes right back to you. He reads, "Have you found what you're looking for?" from your lips, and like a puppet on a string, he nods yes, and he's sure he mutters the word, too. But he's not thinking about the evidence in his pocket. He's thinking about you in ivory, and how much better it would be if you were his real bride instead of his fake one.

• i've been wanting to write for the lockwood & co. fandom for a while now hehe

⌠ @novelizt 2023 ⌡

[broadwayfangirl222]

I don't usually comment on this stuff, like at most I'll just find post I agree with and reblog it but I wanted to share my own thoughts on this:

In light of the leaks and all the spoilers and people commenting on the first two episodes. I'll just say, the anti/critical crowd has lost any and all credibility to me. I don't even mean this in a disparaging or negative way, I just legitimately can not trust their takes anymore. This isn't because I'm a stan who can't stand anyone not liking something they like. I don't care if you like vivziepop's shows or not. Like or don't like whatever you want The reason why I can't can't trust anti/critical takes anymore is because I've seen the most bad faith criticism and takes. I've seen it for the episodes I've seen so since I can't/won't watch the two hazbin episodes yet I'm gonna guess it'll be about the same for those. Like just off the top of my head i've seen takes from ciritics that are like: Somehow it's bad writing for Ozzie to make a whole point about consent, that it's somehow bad for the angels to be similar to the demons (which is the whole point, the point is they're not so different from the demons and the angels are massive hypocrites), Stella never physically abused Stolas 'cause he caught her hand before she could hit him, that somehow this scene between two disabled characters is somehow bad:

not even "it was bad representation because (x,y,z reasons)" Just...it was somehow bad to have this in the episode at all and how the writing for this would've apparently been better if the kid dealt with ableism or was mistreated before this.

And these are from people who at least watch the show/know the basic info about the show since I could be here all day if we go into the misinformation and flat out lies that muddy up the water. Not to mention the harassment being flung at both fans and people working on the shows. I've seen antis/criticals start attacking the people behind prehistoric planet and how the show is now ruined because Vivziepop made a post simply saying she was a fan of it. I've also seen people admitting to lying about working for Spindlehorse so they can lie about how bad the working conditions were. I would genuinely be willing to hear criticism of both the shows and crew if so much of it wasn't obviously done purely in bad faith and there were way less people willing to literally lie and fabricate things to make the shows and crews seem worse than they actually are.

Again I don't care if anyone likes the shows and crew or not. Like I said earlier everyone's entitled to their opinion and nothing/no one is perfect. I just get frustrated about (the lack of) media literacy and care about the very real world consequences that can come from some of the stuff being said/posted. For there to be any kind of actual conversation about this, and not just two camps of people yelling at each other, first, the harassment just needs to stop all together. No one deserves harassment, especially over something as frivolous as a tv show. Next, we need to get rid of misinformation especially when it relates to real people. Actually look into the info you're spreading or see being talked about, make corrections and admit if something ended up being wrong/misinformed.

[miss-tc-nova]

With Reckless Choices - Leona Kingscholar x Reader Pt 3

I personally love this one for the vibes I got when writing. I freaking love this song. And yes, I've used it before for inspiration.

Premise: Another date, but someone ends up showing their hand.

Words: 2,272

Music Inspirations: Hurricane - Panic! At the Disco

~~~Gambits Lost~~~

               Music and merriment fill the bustling city. Joy permeates every street as the citizens celebrate Topsy-Turvy Fest. Hopeful entrepreneurs show off wares to excited tourists while the mouth-watering scent of signature food calls to anyone in the area. Most intriguing, however, are the shows scattered across the town to entertain. Thus far I’ve been witness to magicless magic shows, a story told by eccentric puppets, unusual juggling, and even a contest for the ugliest mask. The music sings like sirens though, an amassing crowd drawing me by my curiosity.

               A troupe of performers have taken over the street, gathering more on-lookers as the tune continues. Some members of the ensemble coax passers-by to join in the frivolity regardless of their dancing prowess.

               Then a hand takes mine. That sweet, pure smile behind the mask lures me in, hoping to add me to the fun. Apprehension fills my chest but as she integrates me into the mass, I find myself compliant. It doesn’t take long to lose myself in the music and just be part of the crowd.

               A pair of hands finds my waist, instantly matching my rhythm. Citrus spice immediately invades my lungs like a drug and I can’t fight the smile biting at my lips.

               “Imagine if you picked the wrong fool in the crowd,” I muse.

           ��   His voice, low enough for only me, sends a buzz through my brain. “Oh I would never mistake anyone else for my fool.” A twirl brings my full attention to him. Gold glitters in the light, unable to mute those unmistakable eyes. “I could pick you out of a crowd with any one of my senses.”

               Goosebumps trace my spine. “You say as if you’ve actually tasted me.”

               His teeth gleam. “Wanna test that theory?”

               “You want to taste a crowd of people?”

               “I wanna taste you.” Across his lip slips his tongue to make his point.

               It’s been just over six months since this little affair began and he’s still vying for that kiss. Tales of the prince’s unrivaled laziness have certainly reached my ears, so I’m very impressed he’s still putting in the effort. And he really is. Not every date has been unique or magical, but each of them has been truly enjoyable. I’m always amazed by the little things he incorporates into each meeting, be it a flavor I mentioned liking or something I hadn’t tried before. I can’t say I’m entirely convinced his motives have changed, but he’s certainly doing his best to run away with my heart.

               I tap a finger against his lower lip. “Nice try.”

               Harlequin eyes roll, having long since learned it’s not that easy.

               Together, we sway. “I have to say, you may have outdone yourself. How did you come up with this one?”

               “Ruggie gloated about attending the festival when he came last year. Said it was one of the most exciting events of his life. Very impressed by the cuisine.”

               “Is he the food-motivated hyena? Blonde. Sneaky. Kind of cute?”

               An ear flickers. “Wanna try that again?”

               “No. He is cute,” I scoff. My eyes narrow with my grin. “Don’t tell me you’re insecure now? Someone so handsome and charming as you? Surely not my clever kitty.”

               “Yeah right.”

               “Then what? I’m not allowed to compliment others?”

               “No. Those eyes are for me.” Pulling me flush against him, Leona leans in so I see nothing but the striking green depth of his greed. “Everything you do I want to be about me. I want every dream to be about me, for every thought to be filled with me.” He pulls back, wearing another smirk. “For every smile to be because I made you happy.”

               Those last words steal the breath from my lungs, though he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, Leona continues indulging in the music with me in this moment.

               Another turn guides me towards the edge of the crowd and, when the song ends, Leona and I slip away into the beautiful streets of Fluer City at the height of its celebrated Topsy-Turvy festival. No other event could be this perfect for us; there are no stares, no gossip, no cameras—no fears when no one knows who’s behind the mask.

               Together, we enjoy the festival, taking in the music and sights. Before long, an amazing mix of red, blue, and purple paint the sky, encouraging the golden lanterns to light the streets. Though some people have only just begun to celebrate, many are beginning to pack up and turn in.

               Then the most alluring smell ensnares me as we walk by. Warm sweets have been tempting all day and, while I’ve done well resisting thus far, those cinnamon rolls are taunting me. Beginning to pack away her little stand, a woman is busy boxing up what treats she didn’t manage to sell.

               A deep chuckle burns in my ears and, a moment later, my date approaches the woman.

               “Mind if I take a few more off yer hands before you go?”

               “Oh of course. Less for me to take back if you do,” she hums.

               Leona takes a box in exchange for a bill. “Thanks.”

               Her eyes widen as she digs through her till. “Oh, just let me—”

               “Don’t worry about it.” His hand dismisses her action. “I hate carrying the small stuff.”

               He leaves her stunned, so full of himself as he returns to me. Even so, I can’t stop smiling.

               “How very kind of you,” I say, full of sarcasm.

               “What? I didn’t lie. Carrying change around gets annoying.” Our path leads towards the city outskirts.

               “Well I also meant the cinnamon rolls.”

               “What, you think I got these for you?” The box is suddenly out of reach. “Nah, these are for me.”

               “Oh really.”

               “I paid for them.”

               “Fine. Keep your cinnamon rolls. I’ll just go—”

               Before I can walk back, he snags my arm. “Alright alright. Don’t be stupid. You can have one.”

               “Well if you insist.”

               Just as I reach for the box, again it’s whisked away. “For a kiss.”

               That devious grin of his isn’t serious, but I’m not surprised by his choice of collateral.

               “Is that all?”

               “I mean—”

               Quickly, I lean in, pressing a chaste peck against his cheek. Caught off guard, Leona goes rigid and is too distracted to notice my hands sneak around the box. And then I bolt, sweets in my sweet possession.

               “Hey!”

               Just outside the city, I veer off the path towards the trees. This is when my lion catches up, arms thrown around me. But rather than pull me to a stop, we both end up going down. At least the box makes it out intact, having fallen from my hands alongside his mask. I, on the other hand, am squished even as I laugh.

               “Get off of me!”

               His strong grip rolls me onto my back, pinning my hands above my head as he holds me down. The mask on my face is taken away by his free hand, exposing me to the full effect of that handsome, smarmy face.

               “A smart mage would’ve used their portal magic.”

               “What fun would that be?”

               “Well then, what punishment should we give thieves tonight?” A finger traces my face.

               “You mean being tackled to the ground wasn’t retribution enough?”

               “No, that was your punishment for running.” Heat bleeds across my face—clawing at my spine—at his nose brushing against mine. "So what am I gonna do with you?"

               In a rather childish moment, I stick my tongue out. It only makes my situation worse.

               His grin comes with malice. “Don’t stick it out unless you wanna share it.”

               My lips purse, not willing to test him.

               Triumphant, Leona frees his captive and sits, reaching for the box. One of the sweets loses a bite, but he looks pleased with himself.

               Even as I sit up, I’m still waiting. “That’s it? You’re not going to punish me?”

               “Oh I am.” He takes another bite. “These are mine.”

               My jaw drops, despite the smile sneaking up on me. “You are such a child.”

               Past his mouthful of food, Leona exposes his tongue. It’s a test. Instead, I scrunch my nose at him and look away from my tormentor. The sulking doesn’t last; warm arms pull me against him with a laugh. Even I emit a little giggle, leaning against him. Comfort has never come so easy before.

               “So did I win any points today?” he hums.

               “Perhaps. The city is beautiful and the festival certainly has been enjoyable.” My mask turns in my grasp. “It’s a relief not to have to worry about being seen for once.”

               “Mm, I thought you might like that.”

               “Even if we weren’t doing things we shouldn’t, it’s nice not being gawked at and skirted at every opportunity.”

               “Would you rather screaming fans rush to mob you?”

               “I’d rather be ignored.”

               “Fair.”

               “A bit like we were, dancing in the crowd.” I set the mask aside, turning my gaze to the new born stars in the twilight sky. “Overall, I’d say this is my favorite date so far. But admittedly, I’m getting a little peckish.”

               A new pastry in hand, Leona makes a show of taking another bite. “Oh? What a shame.”

               I huff, but laughter rumbles against my back while his head bumps against mine. Ultimately, a taste of that sweet treat is offered by his hand, of which I happily indulge. Embarrassment floods into my ears when he drags a thumb across my cheek, licking the frosting from his finger. It’s such a silly, simple gesture, yet it has me enamored, all the while I bask in his embrace.

               I’ve always clung to this ridiculous notion that Leona hasn’t won yet—that I still had an out. It doesn’t matter that he managed to get me to do this in the first place or that we’re still doing it, I kept telling myself no line had been crossed. But right now, as I stare at this haughty cat, beneath the sunset, sharing treats, and goofing around, I think it’s time to admit it. He’s the highlight of my life. I’m always looking forward to our conversations. Then moments like this, he shows me that he’s really paying attention and that he’s willing to take the time to do something for me, despite his lazy reputation. There’s no denying that he’s got his claws deep into my heart.

               He’s won.

               “Hey, Leo,” I murmur, voice soft and brittle.

               With a questioning glance, he looks to me.

               And I close the gap.

               Fear floods my veins. This is the thing he’s wanted from the beginning. It was my trump card and the one that assured he stuck around. There’s no telling what will happen once this is over.

               That fear quickly gives way to greed. His lips are warm and soft, the remnant taste of cinnamon fresh and encouraging. Fingers dive into that wild mane, desperate to eliminate the space that doesn’t exist between us. It’s like tasting water after years of drought and I may never be satiated again.

               This new craving only intensifies once those rough hands pull me closer, clinging to my body as if I might evaporate in his grasp. His hunger nearly consumes my own, his mouth eager to take everything he can get. At this point, I might just give everything I have. No one has ever wanted me the way Leona does. His attention and desire are all for me. I am the only thing he sees and I would do everything a thousand times over just to drown in his lust. Sure, it might all be for some petty points, but for the first time in a long time, I feel something other than emptiness.

               A little lightheaded and a little overwhelmed, my lips drop from his. This does not deter him in the slightest. Instead, the man presses his ravenous mouth against my neck. That tongue utterly frazzles my mind, causing my shoulder to reactively jump and force him off.

               His apology comes in a breathy baritone. “Sorry.”

               Finally, he pulls back enough to show me those eyes I admire. Between us, heavy breath mingles. The thumping against my chest fuels the thrill, though I’m not sure whether it belongs to my heart or his.

               Adrenaline begins to subside, giving way to bitter thoughts. Even so, I smile, brushing the bangs from his face.

               “I never had a chance.”

               His elations purrs in his voice. “Glad you finally understand.”

               “So should I expect a warning before you expose me?” I stand, brushing down my clothes. “Or would it be better if I take a head start and disappear now?”

               Brunette brows furrow as he joins me on his feet. “What are you talking about?”

               Thorny words scrape my throat. “You got what you wanted, so this is the end, right?”

               He appears insulted at my insinuation. “You kiss me like that and you think we’re done?” It’s my turn to be confused, our foreheads meeting by the grace of his hand. “Not a chance. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

               That simple statement shatters everything. I so quickly built a shoddy barrier to prepare for the break and he tore it down, not to leave me in ruins, but to hold on.

               Heart fit to burst, I lunge. His laugh fills my ears like a hymn. Even just the way he holds me, as if I’m precious yet fleeting, is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

               Loneliness will have to wait for my company a while longer.

~~~~~

Part 4

Nova’s Twisted Wonderland Masterlist