#hair color waiver

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter ten

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. Mentions of drug use

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You kick yourself for leaving your room a mess. Your fluffy pajamas are strewn across the blue sheets of the bed, your makeup bag is scattered across the bathroom sink. The sheets are fluffed up from when you threw your luggage on them and the remote is nestled in your pillow-

But Aizawa doesn’t notice. 

He’s too busy kissing you like he can’t get close enough. On the greediest of movements, his teeth click against yours and he whimpers into the plush of your tongue, desperately pushing into you. His body follows suit, cornering you against the backside of the door, crowding you until your heart rate spikes-

Then his lips travel down, down, to the curve of your neck, the spot that makes your knees buckle a bit with his tongue drags across the skin. He must feel it too, because he does it again. Snd again. The sensation rips through your body the way fire rips through oil and you fear that you may combust before the fun’s even begun.

“Ah-hh-a-” Your body punches out without your permission. He growls in return and sucks at the same spot again- “Jesus, Shouta-”

“Say it again-” Aizawa demands.” Say my name again.”

And you do.

This time, he sucks you skin into his mouth until you whine for him to stop. He does and you can feel the blossoming pain of a bruise in his wake, throbbing for less and more concurrently.

You can feel how hard he is against you. It presses through the thick cloth of his pants, right into your lower stomach. It's thick. It's hard. He wants you-- unbelievably so. It takes every firing synapse in your skull to reach down and paw at his cock, to feel it beneath your fingertips.

 Heated desire flows through you, thrums, hot and totally overwhelming in every way. You barely notice how you’re sinking, down the smooth plane of the door, down until your knees hit the floor. He follows you the whole time, hunching over you as to not break the contact for even a moment. Tickles of hair and breath and simply him touch your cheeks. Somehow you end up supine, Aizawa slotted between your legs, carpet catching against your hair as he sinks lower, lower-

“We shouldn’t do this.” he whispers and you kiss him deeper, because no, you shouldn’t, but there’s something inside you that needs this, needs him. You press into his shoulder and off of the ground, flipping both of you around so he’s splayed on the floor. Gravity grinds you down against him and he groans - pained, wanted-

“We shouldn’t do this.” He’s firm this time, even with those dark, wet eyes that seem to be begging for it- “You’ve been-”

“I thought you wanted me.” You grip his shirt and you aren’t sure why. You aren’t going to disobey his wishes, but you wish you could, just to derive some pleasure from him, from tonight. “I thought we were past this hot and cold thing.”

“I do,” he says. “I am.”

Gently, he places a hand on your thigh. The cuts on your feet thrum in the silence, the pain sharp and demanding, just like the ache in your chest.

“But, not like this. You’ve been crying, drinking…”

Your grip loosens.

“Do…do you even want this?” he asks.

Do you? You let him sit up and you fall away and try to process it all. This whole drama between the two of you has you upside down; the fighting, the truce, the spark that's just lit between you- it all came together tonight. He waited for you, he was here- 

You want everything that Aizawa could be to you- but do you want him?

You barely know who he is. Even after all these years, Aizawa Shouta is basically a mystery to you. You don't know his favorite color or food or anything-- hell, you didn't know he owned cats until today! The emotional high you’ve been riding starts to waiver. You don’t think you’d regret sleeping with him, but…

“I don't know,” you say,  carefully, because you don't. Not really. You know you need someone new, but you aren’t sure if that’s Aizawa.

Aizawa nods, solemn, swallowing the news. He takes it better than you thought he would; he seems thankful to have a chance more than anything. 

“I don’t want you to almost want this.” He adjusts himself awkwardly, pants still tight at the front. It’s funny- you don’t even think you’ve seen a man use both heads at once. You don’t laugh, though, or even smirk; not while Aizawa looks so utterly defeated. “I want to be more than that.”

The two of you untangle from each other, you fixing your shirt, him fixing his pants. His hair is disheveled, wild from your touch and the carpet, and his lips are freshly kissed red. The hotel clock changes to the top of the hour, blinking its deep red pattern as you both sit there, silent. You find spaces against the door, side by side. Occasionally you can hear the elevator ding in the distance of the hall.

Fucking would be easier than this. Sex doesn’t need pretext or explanation, it just is what it is. You could just do it and move on, let tomorrow’s problems stay unaddressed, but instead you have to percolate it your emotions, decide exactly how you feel-

“It’s not that I don’t not like you.” You interrupt your own thoughts. “I do, I think. Like you.”

You shrug, still avoiding his gaze even as your shoulders slim each other. “At least, you make me do some stupid shit that no one else makes me do, other than--”

You don't want to talk about Touya. Luckily, he seems to understand. Aizawa just nods back to you, eyes lowered, expression tight.

“You also make me do some things that I regret,” He speaks so carefully.

“Like firing Denki?” You try to joke. “And moving the coffee machine?”

“I only fired Denki because he was abusing your good will and pushing his work off on to you.” Aizawa shifts a bit again with a sigh.  “I don’t regret that. I do regret making you so upset over it all.”

You guffaw. “You knew I did his work?” You thought you had been secretive about it!

“Of course I did.”  He shifts to turn your way, face so close to yours you can feel his breath against your cheek. You watch from the corner of your vision and try not to let that fluttering in your stomach take over. “No one else double staples like you do.”

You throw your hands up in frustration at the thought. “I never get the angle right the first time!”

And he smiles back at you with only his eyes, soft and sweet.

“I know.”

Since when did he start looking at you like that?  And since when did you start to like it?

Did Touya ever look at you like that? Maybe a long, long time ago, before the pills and heroin, back when you were both human and young. The attention is so sweet that it aches to bare, and yet you still do, maybe even smiling back. 

 You try not to shatter the moment.  “You really do like me, don’t you?”

He nods.

“Then why were you always so-?”

Aizawa opens his mouth, then closes it, Then, he does it again, seemingly finding no answer. His bad leg curls up to his chest and he loops an arm under his thigh to hold it in place. Silver peeks out from under the cuff, but he doesn’t seem to notice. The shape is very calf like, but utilitarian- no real design other than smooth curves. You try not to stare, especially when he speaks up again.

“I don’t know.” Shouta pulls himself tighter. “It’s like I’m still some stupid twenty year old when I’m around you.”

You remember the feeling of being twenty: the turbulence, the love, the fear. You think about your ink stained hands, the ones so desperate to hold and be held. Ones so young and yet so, so wounded. Against your better judgment, you reach out with those hands and grab Shouta’s free hand, giving it the lightest of squeezes.

“I feel that way too.”

And, when he squeezes back, you think, just for a moment, that maybe you do want this. 

The time he’s granting you is so appreciated and you almost want to try and fuck him again-

“Where do we go from here?” Aizawa asks.

“I think I’d like to try… whatever this is,” you say. A thrill and a fear thrills inside you. Something new, something unknown. The mystery of it all is terrifying. 

“It’ll be a lot of paperwork though.”  Aizawa, of course, brings you back to reality. That’s right, as coworker’s, it’s probably not the most smiled upon thing to date-- especially since Aizawa is so high up in the company. Bakugo and Izuku are together, but they had to disclose that fact before they were even hired. 

God, you’ll have to tell Yagi that you’re seeing Aizawa, won’t you? You can’t decide if he’ll be proud or alarmed. 

“We don’t have to jump right into dating,” you say, quickly. “We can just.. Go on dates.”

Aizawa’s scowl makes a return. “That’s dating.”

“No, it’s going on a date.” You stay firm. “Very different. Much less commitment. Nothing to tell the company about. Or Hizashi.”

“Hizashi can never know.” Aizawa groans. His hands fly to his head in mock pain. “He’d be insufferable about it.”

“The whole town would know if we told Hizashi!”

A giggle escapes you, then Aizawa follows suit. His laugh is crackling, low, rumbling, but it makes your hands vibrate with something you don’t recognize. Before you can stop it, you laugh harder too, then he follows, until you’re both nothing but laughter and tears, crumbling over almost nothing at all. Your head rolls onto his shoulder so you can feel how he bounces with joy, and it only fuels you more. It takes a full minute to pull yourself together again, core aching from the exertion.

“Okay,” There’s still a hint of levity to his voice. “Let’s move slow then. Figure out what you want on your own time.”

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

The fact that you’re so intertwined with him sets in. Your head is on his shoulder, leg popped over his, hands clasped so tightly you think you might never let go. It’s juvenile, like two kids behind the bleachers, savoring the moments before they get caught. You… like it. Dopamine receptors that haven’t been tickled in years are alight in your brain, giving you this tickling, quantifiable satisfaction. 

You stay there until the carpet burns your ass. 

“Do you want to sit on the bed?”  you say, peeling yourself from him and rising to your feet. Exhaustion is already aching under your eyes and in your joints. “It’ll be comfier.”

“I shouldn't stay too long.” He's already standing and walking towards the bed. “I have to present in the morning.”

You quickly throw your mess to the slide and then slide on top of the sheets.  Aizawa follows, stiffly flopping beside you. His bad leg kicks out a bit when he falls and you can’t help but wince at the thought. Another mystery about him that you haven’t been about to uncover: his leg is his business, but you can’t help but be curious, especially since it’s related to his speech tomorrow. Tensei or Hizashi could probably tell you, but that seems like a violation of Shouta’s privacy.

“I need to sleep,” he says, drifting along to your silent siren’s song.  He’s already slotting himself against you. “It’ll only be for a couple minutes.”

“Okay,” you say.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

For a  while in comfortable silence, you listen to the way he breathes; its rhythmic, tempo only hitching when you move at all-- especially when you drape an arm across his chest. His eyes are bloodshot from work and the late hour, but you almost like how it looks, how the red deepens the brown until it’s past inky, almost bottomless.

Aizawa suddenly sighs, expression downturned.

“Can I say something?” 

You nod.

“I don’t want you to watch the presentation tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You clear your throat to buy time. How are you supposed to react to that? You want to lash out with anger - after tonight, he turns you away? Again?- but you try to swallow that down. Jumping to conclusions hasn’t helped either of you.  “Did I do something?”

“No.” He’s quick to correct. “My leg will be on display and--”

Aizawa sucks in his peach slice lips. “It’s different when it’s strangers looking at me with a scientific eye. You-- you’re different.”

Oh.

“You feel vulnerable,” you guess.

“Perhaps,” he all but confirms. Now, he won’t meet your eye, his gaze stuck to the ceiling. You try and find where he’s looking, try to pick one dot out in the uneven ceiling that makes sense, like you’re watching stars instead of plaster. 

But there isn’t anywhere to look.

Maybe you’ll never see things completely from his perspective or see what he sees. Maybe that’s okay, as long as you’re here to listen. Your hand finds his once again, just as his started looking for yours.

“How did it-?” you try.

“Car accident.” Aizawa cuts you off.  “Head on collision with a drunk driver. I was twenty.”

So young. You wince as you remember your fight for the front of the car that morning; he probably does need it, both for his leg and his mental well being. You try to imagine him, twenty, unscarred, no little crescent scar on his cheek and no hitch in his gate-

“That must have been so scary.”

He hums an affirmative. “Not as scary as the recovery.”

You squeeze his hand in yours, as tight as you can muster. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Me too.”

You almost talk about Touya, how your twentieth was hard in a different way, but the words don’t come. As close as you two have allowed yourselves to become, there’s still a wall between you-- double sided. Behind yours is years of loving a man who is set on destroying himself, loving someone that’s forgotten how to love you back-

Behind his, his own traumas. 

“I’ll hang out with Hizashi tomorrow,” you say after a very long time. “We’ll go slow.”

“Thank you.”

His nose presses into your cheek, followed by the plush of lips. When it draws a giggle from you, he does it again, slighting closer to your lips. His hands are trying to loop around you, under you, through the warmth of blanket to grab handfuls of your waist and thigh. When he squeezes, he laughs too, something low and grumbling that gets caught in his throat. If he weren’t about to kiss you, you probably wouldn’t have caught it.

“You said we should move slow,” you curl your arms around his neck and drag your body closer, until you’re pressed right against him-

“I think-” He presses his lips to your temple. “A kiss-” He does the same to the other. “-or two-” There’s a pause before he hits your lips. “Is alright.”

You oblige.

You never imagined being here, with him, would be so incredibly gentle. Not that you ever thought you’d be here, having a slow, meticulous kiss with Aizawa Shouta. He just seems so rough, so uncaring from a distance; who could have guessed he had such a capacity for the saccharine? Who could have guessed that he’d hold you like he needs you, that he’d suck on your lip like he’d die without you? 

It slowly devolves. The heat between you burns brighter and brighter, a rolling core of embers right under the surface, but you start to drift. Maybe it’s the expensive bed and perfect pillows, maybe it’s the comfort of being held, but sleep starts to creep into your mind. He must feel it too; the pauses between yet peck grow longer and longer, each drag of skin against skin getting lighter, more fleeting-

The bed creaks as he rolls over. 

“Shouta?” you ask, unable to open your eyes. “Are you really okay with me not knowing what I want from this?”

There’s a pause. He shifts back to you, hand on your waist.

“Don’t sleep in your contacts.” Shouta mumbles into your temple, on the precipice of sleep himself. “You’ll be mad in the morning.”

You hum his worries away.

---

He’s gone in the morning. You awake to creased sheets, the peep of sunlight creeping through your blinds, and sticky, blurry eyes. He was right- you do regret sleeping in your contacts, but that doesn’t kill the butterflies that have hatched inside you, flitting about in sheer excitement. You (kind of) (sort of) (not really) have a boyfriend. At least, someone in the shape of a boyfriend, who holds you all night and kisses you deep and makes your pussy-

You shake that off.

As you prepare for the day - brushing your teeth, washing your face, stripping off your dirty clothes and replacing them with a fresh pair of undies- you keep thinking back to him, him, him. Aizawa’s right- you feel twenty again. Maybe even better. You have no qualms about walking around naked post shower, breasts out and pearled in the thrull of the AC.

You’re standing in the middle of the room, watching the news and googling ‘coffee near me’ when you hear the door. It beeps, then creeps open, Aizawa ducking back in. Gone is the outfit from yesterday, replaced with a nice top and… sweatpants. He’s also freshly bathed, raven hair barely damp against his shirt. His usually hooded eyes pop wide and he freezes when he sees you standing there, only your panties to save your decency.

“Hi!” you say, more surprised than anything else.

“Hi,” he says back, just as awkwardly. He’s trying not to stare at you; you quickly scurry back under the covers to hide yourself, shoving handfuls of sheets over your tits.

 “You look-- I didn’t think you’d be awake--- I brought breakfast,” he tries, holding a brown bag up for you in one hand and a cup in the other. “And a latte. Nice-- glasses.”

You look at him. Really, really look at him. Breakfast in bed? You didn’t even fuck him. Why would he--?

“Really?” you try not to sound skeptical.

He hums a yes. “I borrowed your key, hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s-” You’re less concerned about that than breakfast. After not having a real dinner, you’re starving; he must have been too. Taking the bag, you quickly look inside. It’s a little bagel sandwich, wrapped in tin foil and a heavenly smell. “You really brought me food?”

“Stop asking me that and take this.” He places the drink on the nightstand. “It all seemed like things you would like.”

You aren’t sure if you’re hungry or if the sandwich really is good. All you know is that you unpeel it from its wrapping and take a less than demure bite, followed very quickly by a second. Your eyes actually flutter back into your skull for a moment; fuck-- that’s a good fucking breakfast. The coffee smells fantastic too. All of this while sitting in high thread count sheets? You might be in heaven.

“Don’t look at my breasts if they fall out,” you mumble through your food. 

“I will be looking,” he says, completely serious. “Maybe even praying.”

With your free hand, you scooch the comforter down, exposing your tits to the cool hotel air. His expression grows hard and you glimmer under the attention. It’s new enough that it still feels elicit, dangerous, wrong, to be topless in front of the man.

“There is a God.” Aizawa sits on the edge of the bed. His eyes never leave your body. “Remind me to bring you breakfast in bed again some day.”

He leans on to his palms to duck over you, catching your cheek in a rather sloppy kiss. 

“You aren’t going to eat with me?” you ask.

"I'd rather spend the morning eating you.” His flirtation merely has you choking on your spit.  “But we agreed to go slow.”

He dots your other cheek with a kiss again. It’s funny how soft he has become in such a short time. Has this always been there, hiding under that stupid yellow sweatshirt? Or have you broken through him this weekend?

Then, you process what he said. Fuck, that sounds-- you’re still a little wet from last night, riding the high of being touched. It would only take a couple licks for you to-

“Don’t look at me like that.” Shouta shuts down your train of thought. “I really should be going to prepare.”

That’s right- there’s only a little time before he presents.

“Hm, okay. Another morning, then.” You take another bite. “Good luck with your speech. I won't be watching.”

You’re still a bit conflicted about not going, but you respect his choice. The accident seems to be a huge scar on his past; if he isn’t ready to debride it, you can’t force him. Besides, you haven’t discussed Touya with him-- that’s probably an equally big trauma in your life.

Especially because you may still be in love with Touya.

That thought cuts the wind from your sails.

[cogitory]

Plush Laughter (Coraline tickle fic)

Happy Halloween all. @toweroftickles requested that someone might follow up on a Coraline fanfic prompt that he got earlier this month. As a fan of his work, I attempted to heed the call. Takes place near the end of the movie. Entails the Other Mother employing one of Coraline's weaknesses with a voodoo variant of her usual dolls.

A sharp wind rustled the treetops overhead before going silent as the night sky faded to white. The ground beneath them fell away and color drained from everything as Coraline rushed past on her way back into the house. With a grunt she slammed the door behind her just as the world outside seemed to completely disappear.

She sighed in relief as the entrance clicked shut. Despite the chaos beyond it the interior of the house seemed normal. Not safe by any means, but not collapsing. Not yet.

As if sensing her trepidation, the cat leapt from her bag and disappeared around the corner up ahead without a word. Coraline sighed again and stood up. "Alright then. Let's keep moving..."

She was winning the challenge, and that meant the Other Mother's power was waning. Now her house was all that was left of this world. Despite the escape from the empty void outside (and the smell of something weirdly sweet wafting from the kitchen??), Coraline stayed on guard. The mask for this place had fallen, and now her freedom was hanging on the edge of another one of Other Mother's games. A finding things game...

She had been doing well so far, all things considered. The eyes of three ghosts (or the marbles representing them anyway) were safely packed away in her pocket. But another scavenger hunt across the entire house was easier said than done when she didn’t even know what exactly she was looking for. She was trying to find her stolen parents of course, but what did that mean in a fake little world where nothing was ever what it seemed?

“La da da daaa~”

Speaking of which… Coraline pursed her lips as she drew closer to the sound of the Other Mother’s voice humming down the hall. Coraline found her working alone in the kitchen, clearing a counter for the fresh gooseberry pie she withdrew from the oven.

My favorite… Coraline thought bitterly. She steadied herself and cleared her throat before moving into the doorway.

“Oh dear, did you tire of our little game so quickly?” The Other Mother glanced over her shoulder, still smiling warmly as a darker edge crept into her voice. She looked like Coraline's mother again, black button eyes aside. She was wearing a dark dress in all prim and proper smiles. The ghastly image of her true form already shelved behind another mask. “Ready to give up and rest?" she asked, gently closing the oven. "Just in time for dessert...”

“No,” Coraline answered quickly. She crossed her arms, determined not to show fear. “I’m doing just fine. Great in fact! Three things found, one thing to go…”

"Impressive!" The Other Mother’s smile twitched ever so slightly, but her cheerful tone didn’t waiver as she clapped her hands together. “Well then, if it’s too easy for you then perhaps we should mix things up! I’d hate for you to get bored...”

“Hang on!” Coraline stepped forward, hesitation forgotten in favor of anger. “You can’t just change the rules mid-game!”

“Who’s changing anything? This is more like, a bonus round!” The Other Mother chuckled, removing a doll from a small wooden box that had been placed near the wall. It looked near identical to the doll Coraline had been given before. That is to say, it looked like another miniature version of herself… Blue hair... Freckles… Only now the outfit it wore had been updated to resemble the one that she was currently wearing. Her dark vest atop orange pajamas and a pair of worn in sneakers. It even wore a little copy of the military cap she had lost outside.

“Another doll…?” Coraline raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“A special doll! I had to rush this one a little, but even so...” The Other Mother ran a hand over the top of the doll’s head, ruffling its yarny blue hair beneath its hat.

Coraline gasped, reflexively running her fingers through her own hair as she felt the top of her head being touched in tandem.

“It should be good for a laugh…” The Other Mother then booped the doll’s nose with her fingertip.

Coraline sputtered, stepping backward and furrowing her brow as she felt the tip of her own nose being prodded as well by some unseen force. “What is that?! What are you doing!?”

The Other Mother gave her an innocent grin. “You’ve been in suuuch a bad mood lately dear. I just wanted to find a way to make you happy again! So I thought maybe…” She ran a single finger along the curve of the doll’s waist.

“H-Hey!” Coraline flinched, jerking to the left as she felt that phantom touch trailing up her side.

“We could return to an old favorite of yours…” She trailed her finger up a little higher, swirling her nail just beneath the sleeve of the doll’s vest.

"Mmph!" Coraline hugged her sides, swallowing a giggle bubbling up in her throat. She forced her lips shut into a lopsided pout despite the hilarious sensation beginning to scrawl its way into her armpit. “Q-Quit-it!” she snarled.

“Aaw, what’s wrong??” The Other Mother rolled the doll over in her hand, this time poking the center of the doll’s midsection and giving her fingertip a wiggle. “Where’s that wonderful smile of yours…?”

“Mmmpppfffhhh!!” Coraline closed her eyes and clenched her teeth trying to ignore it. She really tried to play it off as her breath hitched. But it was a losing battle... A pair of invisible fingers were pressed gently into her belly, curling up and down and increasing in speed, teasing insistently as her defenses quickly crumbled beneath them. “PPFFFTT-HaaAhahAHAH!!” Coraline toppled over backwards as the dam burst with laughter, a goofy open-mouthed smile overtaking her whole face despite her best efforts.

“There it is!” Other Mother smiled sweetly as she began to quickly tiptoe the two fingers in a tiny path up and down the doll’s midriff.

“Stop-STAHHAHAAHP!” Coraline arched her back and flopped about on the floor. She scraped her hands down the front of her PJs trying to grasp at whatever ghostly force was there, but she grabbed at nothing but the rumpled hem of her shirt. “Nohooohohoo!!”

“What is it dear?” Other Mother cocked her head slightly, feigning a look of confusion over the sound of Coraline’s desperate giggling. “Oh does that…?” She turned her gaze back to the doll in mock surprise, her fingers still merrily dancing atop where the toy’s abs would be. “Does that tickle…?”

“Y-You!! Cheating Witch!! Hahahah!!” Coraline rolled over, trying to press her stomach to the ground and smother the sensations dancing across it, but it was no use. She could still feel a pair of slender fingers digging gently atop her skin, before one suddenly changed course and dipped into her belly button.

"EEAACK"! Coraline squealed, jerking up to see the Other Mother’s finger reflecting the action she felt. She saw a long teasing fingertip poking through the tiny gap between the buttons of the doll’s buttoned up shirt. Coraline shook her head. The Other Mother just gave a smug smile as her finger began corkscrewing back and forth against the plush felt beneath.

“NAhahAAHAHAH-Y-You Rotteahahann! Stuphaahpiad!!” Coraline’s cheeks flushed red as she slapped the ground, trying to spit out whatever half-baked threats or insults came to mind, her words losing meaning amidst her rising laughter. She rolled on her side, covering her middle with both hands as the finger continued to swirl against the ticklish rim of her navel, undeterred beneath her grasp.

“You know as fun as this is, I might be tempted to stop…” The Other Mother’s finger slowed to a crawl and began tapping in place, allowing Coraline’s hysterics to fade into breathless giggles. “If you’d just give up this messy little game of ours…”

“Haah… Are... Haahah… Are you kidding…?” Coraline used the chance to stumble to her feet, still trying to catch her breath and fight off a twitchy smile. “All that's happened, and you think I’m gonna give up? Haahah… Just like that...? You’re pathetic..!”

The Other Mother’s own smile fell. Twirling the doll like a baton, she suddenly flipped the miniature Coraline over in her grasp and popped off its tennis shoes with her thumb as if she were popping the lid off of a soda bottle. Coraline felt her heart sink as they fell to the floor with a light clatter.

The Other Mother furrowed her brow and began to raise her free hand. “The gloves are off… Coraline...”

Coraline looked down at the shoes and back up with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh you know what I mean!”

Her fingers dove for the bared soles of the doll. Dancing across the tiny appendage like a spider swarming a fly.

A shock went through Coraline's entire body as she barked with laughter once more, stumbling back and stamping her shoes as if they had suddenly become filled with feather-wielding ants.

"W-Wait!! NO! Not-There-Not-Therereereheahhaa!!"

The Other Mother merely smirked. "Oh yes there... I believe we've only just started."

Coraline was practically dancing in place now. Kicking out and jumping in the air, as if the movement would help her dodge any of the flurry of sensations. But unlike her, the doll's legs weren't moving an inch, leaving the simple pads that substituted for feet completely vulnerable to every gesture of the Other Mother's scurrying fingers.

Eyes beginning to blur with tears of mirth, Coraline could barely make out the Other Mother's fingers changing. The faster they moved, the longer and more needle-like they began to look. Their touch never hurt though. She felt them scrape and scurry and scrawl across the arches of her feet with the speed of a mouse and the pressure of a dull comb.

"HAhahaaahah!! MAke it Stahhahap!!" She was leaning against the wall now, hugging her ribs as her legs continued to bounce and twitch beneath her, threatening to buckle at any moment.

The Other Mother chuckled as she bent down and leaned in closer, her amusement barely heard over Coraline's hysterics. "As much as I love your choreography dear... Are you ready to surrend-AAARGH!!"

With a fresh burst of fury, the seemingly aimless swing of Coraline's foot rose up into a sudden kick, connecting with the side of the Other Mother's face with a heavy thud of her shoe.

The Other Mother jerked back, catching the side of her head against the fridge and nearly popping one of her button eyes loose with a rough tug of the string. "AAH! You Little Monster!!" She snarled. "Do you know what it takes to properly replace string of this quality?!"

Coraline didn't. And she didn't care. Still panting for breath, she began to run forward, trying to grab at the doll just as it was lifted once more out of her reach.

The Other Mother shoved Coraline back and held the doll up higher while she fixed her hair with her free hand. She was taking deep breaths and quickly calming down despite one button eye hanging loose on her left side. "It's fine..." she whispered. "It's fine! I can fix this... I can fix you...! But in the meantime!" She glowered down at Coraline with her good eye, and placed the doll next to a potted plant on top of the kitchen cabinet. "You'll need a sitter..."

"Coraline's eyes widened as she recognized the flower that had been potted there. It's orange petals twitching like a long open mouth as the doll was placed upside down alongside it.

"Wait-No-No-No-AhahaAHAHAA!!" Coraline dashed forward to scale the cabinet high above her, but she quickly lost grip and fell back as the dragon snapper began to playfully bite at the doll's feet.

"Not AGaaahiaiaiannn!!" Coraline fell back, kicking at the cabinet as her cheeks flushed pink from another barrage of tickles. " Stahp!! Stohahaahahppp!!" She cried out, but if the flower could understand her, it didn't seem to care.

"There. Now you play nice, while I freshen up! Be good now..." The Other Mother slunk out of the room, cradling her eye and leaving Coraline in a fit of giggles and guffaws without a second glance.

Coraline reverted focus to her new enemy, kicking at the cabinet while she still had the strength. "K-Knock it OoAahahahAHAHAFF!! Her words failed her as soon as the flower found proper grip of the tip of both doll's legs and began nibbling. If the Other Mother's claws reminded Coraline of the scraping teeth of a comb, then the dragon snapper was like having your toes eaten by feathers.

After what seemed like far too long to spend being tickled silly by a houseplant, Coraline made out a familiar shape moving atop the cabinet.

"H-Help! HAhaha!!" she cried. "P-Please!!"

Whether the cat was being helpful, or whether it was simply being a cat, it leaned the side of its body towards the pot and gave it a shove. Making a few last snaps at the open air between itself and the doll, the potted plant fell to the kitchen floor with a shatter.

As if a switch had been flipped off, Coraline's feet stopped tingling, and the stiff smile that had been glued to her cheeks finally relaxed. Coraline plopped backwards, closing her eyes and taking heavy breaths between a last few residual giggles as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

"Thank... Hahah... Thank you...."

The cat leapt to the floor, dragging the doll after it.

"Not the most dramatic monster for a hero to overcome..." the cat mused with a chuckle looking down at the scattered soil and leaves.

"Ah shuddup..." Coraline murmured, smirking a bit. Having caught her breath, Coraline suddenly remembered where she was and leapt to her feet. She bagged up the doll with the rest of her findings and crept out of the kitchen, the cat following behind.

"You're bringing the doll?" The cat asked, darting between her legs.

"I can't have her using it again!" Coraline whispered. "I have to keep moving. I'll just carry it for now..."

"And then what...?"

"I'll figure it out later!" Coraline clutched the bag tighter. The thought of taking such a doll home was embarrassing to say the least. But anything beat leaving it here to be weaponized again.

Weaponized... That was an embarrassing thought too... To think that something silly like tickling could have been the game-changer here.

But hey, everyone has their kryptonite...

[bluestar22x]

Maze Find

Summary: When your dog runs into a corn maze, you run into Frankie Morales

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Rating: General

Word Count: 900(ish)

Warnings: None, pure Hallmarky fluff

Author’s Note: This is my submission for jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge ( @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno ) - I picked Morales Mocha with corn maze mishap (more like meet cute).

xxx

"Biscuit, where are you?" you called out, eyes scanning your surroundings, trying not to panic.

There wasn't much to see beyond corn stalks, given you were in a corn maze, but you had to try.

Your new dog Biscuit, a rescue from the local animal shelter, had managed to wiggle his way out of, you could admit, his too loose collar to chase after a squirrel during your afternoon walk.

The last you'd seen of him, about three minutes ago, was his wire haired sandy colored body slipping into the corn field, which was unusually busy due to the time of year.

The owner was hosting a corn maze, open to anyone, for a small price. A price the farmer had waivered for you when you explained why you needed access to his field.

You hadn't seen the dog since his initial escape, and you were starting to worry that he was no longer even in the area. Hounds were well known for running off far.

You were nearing the end of the maze when you turned a corner and sagged with relief, finding Biscuit sitting in front of a tall man with a well trimmed beard and a Standard Heating Oil cap perched on top of his head. A nearly fully eaten ice cream cone was in his right hand, a paper shopping bag in the other.

"This wanderer yours?" he asked when he saw you appear, an amused expression on his face.

"Sorry, he got off the leash," you explained, "Saw a squirrel and it was too hard to resist."

He chuckled and you smiled at him as you approached and slipped Biscuit's collar back around his neck, tightening it in the process. You liked the sound of the stranger's laughter. It was warm, hearty. "Thanks for distracting him while I caught up."

"It was purely by accident," he told you, shrugging. "He was interested in what I'm eating."

You nodded. "Ice cream is a weakness of his."

The man's lips curved up. "Mine too."

"So what are you doing in the maze?" you inquired. "Got a lost dog of your own?"

He had to be either a farm hand or a parent, but you were curious. He was very easy on the eyes, and you were pretty sure you'd never seen him around before. The town wasn't so small that not knowing him was impossible, but still.

"No, just a lost kid," he said, "Except not actually lost. I can see from here where he's hiding." He glanced over your shoulder. "Nic come on out. It's time to head home."

A young boy, maybe four, shot out from between the stalks to your left. "Aww...already?"

"Yes, already," the man said in a tone you immediately recognized as fatherly stern. "Your mom will kill me if we're late."

You cocked an eyebrow at him and he laughed. "She won't actually kill me, but Nic's mother is planning to take him to see a movie tonight and she doesn't like being late to anything."

"Ah, Nic's mother," you repeated. That didn't sound like they were still together. You shouldn't care, but you did. Because he was handsome, especially in the green plaid shirt he was wearing, and seemed nice.

"Yeah, we divorced three years ago. On good terms. But she likes her schedules."

"Can I pet your dog?" Nic interrupted.

You grinned at his politeness, most kids didn't ask, even though they should with strange dogs. "Of course, Biscuit would love it."

Nic kneeled down and started petting him under the chin and the dog flipped over to expose his belly, making everyone laugh.

"Looks like you've made a new friend," you declared, grinning.

"He's so silly," Nic said, "What kind of dog is he?"

"A Basset Fauve de Bretagne," you answered.

The young boy blinked at you, confused. "A Basset what?"

You chuckled. "It's a French breed. You know France?"

The boy nodded. "Mrs. Bran is teaching us how to read maps."

"Oh...interesting."

"It's...okay."

You laughed again at his honesty. "Well, I promise the country is more interesting than its map."

Nic's father gave him a few moments more to stroke Biscuit then repeated that they had to go.

The boy pouted but did as told, heading out for their car at the end of the maze.

"Thanks again..." you trailed and the man took the hint.

"Frankie. Most people call me Frankie."

"Thanks again, Frankie."

"I didn't do much, but I'm glad to have helped..."

You gave him your name and smiled again. "Help is help."

You rummaged through your purse after and pulled out a pen and notepad.

"Those still exist?" Frankie joked as you put ink to the lined yellow paper. His dark eyes were curious as you jotted down something on it - your phone number.

You weren't usually so bold, but if he wasn't interested he just wouldn't call right? No big deal. But you'd regret not making an attempt at a date. You'd been single for far too long.

You passed him the note. "I'd like to thank you over coffee or something. My treat. Just call me when you're not busy sometime?"

He smiled and folded the paper up nicely. "I think I'll take you up on that offer. Let me drop off Nic, his mother's house isn't far, then I'll call."

"Sounds good."

You shared warm smiles and parted with your boys.

As promised, Frankie called a few hours later.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Main Masterlist

xxx

[destroymeinherz]

The Party

A little while back someone posted about a fantasy of being passed around a stethoscope party, with different people listening to their heart. I don’t remember who did so if it was you, I hope you like this. It sparked creativity,

I could continue if anyone wants another part. But I wanted to do the basic idea.

The Party

I’d just signed with a modeling agency. It wasn’t the most exclusive, sometimes the jobs weren’t exactly what I hoped but college was expensive, so I took what I could. How bad could it be? It’s not like I planned to run for office or something.

My agent called me after classes one afternoon asking if I’d be interested in a gig that was more unconventional. After a few basic questions for my safety, nothing seemed too offensive even if it was secretive, and a rep from the agency would be there in case of trouble, I decided to take it.

Friday night I arrived at a big mansion just outside the city. From the looks of it this was old money, probably descendants of oil barons and railway tycoons. Which meant the paycheck would be huge. They’d promised a large payout for anyone who stayed til midnight.

I was let into a large foyer and usher back to a small hallway to a butlers parlor. A woman checked my ID, checked my name off a list and then looked me over.

“You will be required to wear one of two outfits tonight,” She instructed, pulling two hangers off a rack of clothes. “Black is standard, you are willing to do anything that would be clothes on. Call it PG-13.”

She held up a black Herve Luger bandage dress for emphasis. Then in her other hand, she held up a red one nearly identical to the former.

“Red,” She continued. “You are open to sexual behavior, and by wearing red you are giving consent to sexual advance,”

Well, I was single and I was never a prude, so I took the red. Might as well have a bit of fun. Once I accepted my color choice, she handed me an iPad with a waiver basically stating that I would take proper precautions, assert myself and under no circumstances attempt to contact anyone I met here after the event. I would ask for aid if I felt unsafe and leave without a scene. If I did not make it to midnight, I’d be compensated $200 per hour worked.

I shrugged and signed. She then held back a curtain for me to change in a small closet. I slipped inside, squeezed into the dress and as I was ushered to a door she fit me with a bracelet.

“If you need out, press the red button. Security will extract you.” She informed. “Are you ready?”

I blinked. Extracted? My heart started to pound, suddenly feeling crushed by the tight dress. What did I get myself into. But… the money was clouding my judgement. So I nodded, and the door opened. Once I cleared the threshold, it closed behind me.

Just walk around. Be eye candy. That was my only instruction. So that is what I did.

The room was a parlor, antique and dimly lit. It was full of golds and deep rich red textiles, dark wood and gold finishes. Old leather bound editions of classic literature adorned the bookshelves. I felt like I’d gone back in time. Or I was in a vampire’s house. My heart thudded at the thought.

The room was also full of people, in fine clothes, expensive tuxes and dresses. All of them wore masks like a masquerade. As I started to work through the crowd they watched me, with hungry eyes. Maybe I was in a vampire’s den. I was about to be dinner. There were a few other girls dressed in the red or black, varying heights and hair colors and skin tones.

I swallowed and tried to will my poor heart to stop trying to escape my chest. Until finally, a man approached me.

“Well, aren’t you lovely,” He said, holding out his hand.

I took his hand, and he brought it to his lips. He then moved his fingers down my wrist, stopping to feel my pulse. He offered him a soft smile. Then, he nodded before he motioned a waiter over.

The waiter came with a silver cloche, removing the dome top and extending the tray to the man. But there wasn’t food. It was a line of various stethoscopes. His fingers danced along them as he made his selection, a red tube that matched my dress.

He waved the man off, then examined it before placing the buds in his ears.

“Now, deep breath for me. Like a doctor’s office.” He said as he placed the diaphragm on my chest,

I was surprised, but I did as he asked, breathing in deeply and feeling my heart kick in my chest. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

He must have enjoyed the sound of my heart because he moved the diaphragm around my chest, smiling to himself and eventually he stopped. He listened for a long time, and even behind a mask I could see his eyes were closed.

I blushed. Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

Finally, he opened his eyes and moved the diaphragm away. He took the ear pieces out and looked around. Then he must have seen who he needed, because he waved to someone.

“You have a perfect heart, my dear.” He said.

“Uh, thanks…” I replied.

Another man approached, he also had a stethoscope. He looked to the first man oblivious to me and waited for why he’d been called over.

“I think she’s the one. Take a listen.”

The new man finally looked at me. I smiled at him but he simply leaned in with his own stethoscope and listened to my heart. I took a deep breath like I had before.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump

“I think you’re right,” He replied. “Take her in, I’ll grab the others.”

The others? I blinked in surprise. Is this all it was? A bunch of cosplayers listening to my heart for a few hours? That didn’t seem so bad. Even if they wanted to listen to it during sex or something. That was actually, kinda hot.

“Come with me,” The first man said.

I nodded as he took my hand again. This time he lead me down another hallway to a different room. He opened the door and brought me in, then closed it behind me. It was more of a sitting room with a beautiful chaise in the center, raised up on a platform.

I recognized some medical equipment from various movies or doctors visits. Nothing seemed too concerning.

“Now, lay down on the chaise,” He instructed. “You may stay clothed for now. But do remove your shoes as to not damage the upholstery.”

I did as he asked. Once I was settled, he returned to my side. He brought the steth out again and gently placed it on my chest. He let out a content sigh as he listened to my heart pound.

As he listened, others started to fill the room. They lined up behind him. I had never expected anything like this. Just lay here and let them hear my heart beat.

“Before we continue, could I get you anything? Water, soda, wine?”

I smiled. “What would you like me to have?”

“Oh you are cheeky.” He grinned. “Perhaps a little caffeine, to stimulate you. What does everyone think?”

There was a nod of agreement from the group and some muttering of approval. The first man smiled and had one of the caterers being me a soda can on a platter with a straw beside it.

“Go ahead and open it, then use the straw to limit your movement to drink.” He instructed.

I did as he asked. Once the can was open and the straw was in, in leaned over to the table where it sat and drank a few gulps. As I did, the man placed the diaphragm on my chest again.

He closed his eyes, listening and seemingly very content with the sound. Finally he opened them, took my hand and kissed the back of it. He stepped aside and the next person in line stepped up.

There was no clock in the room but it felt like time slowed in this room. Each person took their turn stepping up to my seat and just listening to my heartbeat. Some had me drink the soda, some had me lay down, some had me sit and stand quickly. I’d stand there and pant through running in place and jumping jacks in a too tight dress, as they listened to my heart’s reaction and then recovery.

Ba-dumpba-dumpba-dumpba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I had to admit, this was fun.

The last person was a woman, she couldn’t have been much older than me. She seemed more keen then the men had. Her eyes were bright behind her mask. She took a deep breath as her gold and white stethoscope settled on my chest.

“My… your heart… it’s by far one of the loveliest I’ve heard.” She said to me, her voice was lustful. “May I rest my head on your chest? Hear it directly with my ear?”

“Sure. I don’t see why not.” I replied.

“Would you like to hear your heart while I do?” She removed the stethoscope and offered it.

The people in the room all watched, eager to see how I would respond. Well, why not? If it made them happy it was my job tonight. I don’t think I’d ever heard my heartbeat before, not like this anyway.

“Okay. Sure” I replied with a smile.

That was the right answer as she grinned with excitement and placed the ear pieces in my ears. Then she placed the diaphragm down on my skin and rested her ear next to it.

I inhaled as I had before and my head filled with the rhythmic thumping they’d all been indulging in for the last few hours.

Ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump

I closed my own eyes and lost myself in the sound. Maybe I should come to these parties more often. Hearing the steady beat, knowing it was mine… that was intoxicating.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“Yeah. I think I get the vibe.” I responded.

“Are you ready to try something a little more interesting?” The first man asked, approaching me slowly. “You can refuse any of the requests, we won’t take offense or change your compensation. These would be granting special requests.”

The stethoscope was removed from my ears and I almost whined about it. I liked hearing my heart, understanding what they were hearing. What they enjoyed that brought me here.

“Sure,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”

End?

[femoso-seben]

Blind Love

Medusa Soap x Hero Ghost

Don’t hate me for OOC! I tried my best…

————

Off the coasts of Sparta, in a small island once the shrine to Athena, broken and litter with the horrifically grandiose tender status of blissful hubris of mortal woes, was the lair of the only mortal Gorgon. For those Greek heroes who fall onto this island they would think this is a old shrine to Hecate, statues made from Daedalus’ own hands, details etched with perfect precision.

The marbles were well warn down to it’s white base hollow flat color only seen in the crevasse of the folds of marbles. A lone figure lives there abandoned by the gods, by all the gods, by the very goddess he worshipped, left to rot on a lifeless hideous island. The beach were rocky and new, filled with old rotting ships bobbed up and down some lossly drifting around the island, the locals call it The Fool’s Grave.

Sun-kissed and specialed with iridescent scales, and built like Achilles himself walked a lone figure, in robes of blue and gold, did he walk, past the Forrest of stone he made. Those statues of men were his only comfort for normality, if only they weren’t staring in fear, fear of him. He was cursed for a life of loneliness and isolation, waiting for a Heracles to slice his head off. He was curse to stay on the island, for no boats will move pass the shore, as even Poseidon does not wish to offend Athena.

A low rumble, scrapping of rocks and he knew their was another hubris hero coming for him. He turns around to find, a tall almost Harclean man standing there, impressive and broad, cover in dark leather armor, dark almost black cape, with a spartina helmet plums of black horse hair. A spartan is here to kill him. As this giant of a man, maybe a child of a god, maybe a son of Zeus was here to kill him.

He was No coward for every statue was a signs to the gods, a sign that he still live that all their heroes all their oracles and quest meant nothing to his hate and vengeance. He knew all these heroes that come were sent by the gods to die. These heroes full of pride and glory will all turn to fearful stone. The low hisses of his snakes were the only sound besides the dull beat of his heart in his chest. The man looms closer, foot steps sinking into the sandy soil.

He let out a familiar sign and his gaze rised, his cool almost white eyes meet, a void. Darkness except for the intense gaze of the Spartan.

He waited. And waited. But nothing arises.

The hero was inches away, a head taller, head bent staring down at him. It was almost embarrassing.

“You… You can stare at me?” The gorgon asks.

The hero drew his sword.

‘So this is how it ends?’ That was the only thought in Johnny’s head as the sword cleave through his neck. The world went sideways, but the gaze of that hero never blinked, never waiver. Maybe… If only.

—————

Inspired by @astheriiiart

@imakepapertrees @sparklingsprinkles @secretlyasalmon427

[senditcolton]

I Will Follow You into the Dark

Carding your fingers through your lover’s hair after a bad nightmare, not caring that it’s sweaty or matted, but just that they’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep, even if it’s at the sacrifice of your own.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon | word count: 0.8k | warnings: nightmares inspiration from "plastic palm trees" moodboard by @smileysvech

Who would expect that things labeled as ‘strictly business’ could lead to such heartache?

You certainly didn’t until almost three years ago when your boyfriend Mat started to feel that heartache brought on by ‘business.’

Being a hockey player meant instability – trades, short contracts, waivers, minor leagues. All of this was something that every professional player had to worry about for their entire career because the future was never guaranteed. But while Mat had mentally prepared himself for the chance that all those things happening to him, he wasn’t ready to watch them happen to his teammates.

He wasn’t ready for his friends to be claimed by other teams. He wasn’t ready to watch his friends get sent off to the other side of the continent. He wasn’t ready for his friends to choose to go somewhere else. He wasn’t ready to see his friends – players that he spent his entire Islander career with – dressed in a jersey of unfamiliar colors instead of the usual blue and orange.

Even though he never prepared for this, every time a new trade or signing came through, Mat always told you he was fine. It was a part of the business. But you knew it bothered him. And you knew that is he kept those emotions behind a wall, they would break through eventually.

Tonight, those emotions finally came forward with a vengeance.

You woke up in the middle of the night, unsure of what roused you from your slumber. Your body turns underneath the sheets, moving to face your boyfriend. As soon as your eyes find his frame in the dim moonlight, you understand why you were awake.

Mat was shaking, his body curled up into a tight ball. The way his face in pinched looks almost painful, as does the grip he has on the pillow. Your heart breaks as your hazy brain registers his motions and understands that he was in the middle of what was obviously a terrible nightmare.

Your hand creeps across the expanse of sheets between the two of you, your fingers sliding beneath his, gently coaxing him to release his grasp from the fabric of the pillowcase.

“Mat,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Mat, baby, wake up.” Your grip tightens as you gently shake him, urging him awake with the movement and a continual call of his name.

It takes a moment but his eyelids fly open, his breathing sharp and shallow as he looks around the darkness of your bedroom. You keep your eyes locked to him, although you feel your heart shatter when you see the haunted look swimming in his pupils before Mat’s gaze finally falls to you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. “You were just having a nightmare.”

You see a darkness pass over Mat’s expression, the images that were plaguing his unconscious clearly returning. You did the only thing you could think of: you scoot closer to him, your arms enveloping his body as you pull him into you.

Mat relaxes into your hold, his head coming to rest on your chest. Your fingers card through his hair, feeling the sweat-soaked strands slide against your skin. You force yourself to keep your breathing slow and steady – a gentle encouragement for Mat to copy you which he eventually does. The thudding of his heartbeat against you slows and you relax, waiting.

“Everyone keeps leaving me,” he whispers, his words breaking both the silence and your heart. You realize that that must have been the origin of his nightmare – that fear of being abandoned, of being left behind.

“They aren’t gone forever,” you reply, tightening your hold around him.

“I know,” he mutters. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

All you can give him in return is a small hum, hoping that the single tone is enough to convey your understanding and sympathy. You don’t let Mat go, your hands still brushing through his hair as he slowly drifts off to sleep again, this time curled in your arms, the sound of your heartbeat soothing him. When you are confident that he has fallen back into a deep sleep, you press a soft kiss onto the top of his head.

Carefully, as to not disturb your boyfriend, you reach towards your nightstand, fumbling around until your hand finds your cellphone. You angle the screen away from Mat so the brightness doesn’t wake him until you adjust the settings. You open your text messages, scrolling until you find the correct thread.

Hey Emma, sorry for the late message. I was just wondering if you and Tito have anything planned for the summer? Sent February 7th at 3:18am 

No worries! We don’t have any plans. What are you thinking? Received February 7th at 7:41am

Maybe a surprise birthday vacation? Give the boys a chance to reunite? Sent February 7th at 8:01am

That sounds absolutely perfect. Received February 7th at 8:04am

[helpimqueer]

Y'all

Leah Sava Jefferies is THE PERFECT ANNABETH

"Not you sunshine, you're coming with me" stop. The way she said that??? Perfection. Her whole entire being is just perfection. The racists can say what they want this is the best casting job ever. Annabeth is about heart and mind, not skin or hair color. Uncle Rick and Aunt Becky did an amazing job in finding her, and I feel so terrible that the poor girl is only 14 and had to deal with all those racist pieces of shit but honestly she handled it like the queen she is. I hope her confidence in herself never waivers because she is amazing, and she totally deserves all the happiness and success that she hopefully gets from playing this role. I just hope that as she gets older people remember to treat her like an actual person. Yay Leah Sava Jefferies!!! Slay queen!!! 💕💕💕

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

I looked and looked and looked for who to credit this art for. Maybe I'm blind. Maybe I need to do alternative searches for art to use on my posts. Anyhow, I found both of these on Pinterest. If you or someone you know is the creator, please message me and I'll add the artist.

A/N = Lovely Rengoku. This man can fit into any situation and make it work ... well, maybe not ALL. But you know what I mean. This ~one-a-fucking-gain~ didn't pan out how I planned it. I was originally going to write a whole thing but it pretty much just ended itself. It worked out well, though, despite being kinda short.

C/W = I don't think there are any. Talk of nudity, a small group of nude people posing for artistic purposes. Other than that it's just a fluffy piece. Flirting between Rengoku and y/n (F!reader). Enjoy!

Sign Here X_____________

"Hey, this is beginning art, right?" You asked the man looking over the class syllabus on the wall. He looked to be close to your age, maybe a little younger. He was goddamn beautiful, too. Tall. Not an ounce of body fat in the wrong place. Muscular. Cool hair; blonde with red tips.

He looked at you. For a good 10 seconds before he said anything. Scanning over your face, stopping at your eyes and your lips. You found yourself feeling some way. Not uncomfortable, but like you were under a microscope. Being inspected.

"Yes, this is my class, beginning art."

You narrowed your eyes. "'Your class?' Oh, you mean you're in this class, too? Cool. Well, my name is y/n. I guess I'll see you around. Thanks."

"Heh, no, this is MY class. As in, I'm the instructor. I'm the everything ... actually." He said calmly and smiled at you as he put his hair back in a tight bun and you watched him walk to the oversized desk in the corner of the room.

"Hello, welcome to ...?" He rolled his hands out like as he was encouraging the classroom to interact.

"Arrrrtttt for beginnnnerssss!" Everyone participated. Even you. How could you not. This man could convince a perfectly healthy person to drink a vile of poison.

"Good job, kids," he laughed. Clearly noting the older people in the class. "In this course, we're going to learn how to draw animate and inanimate objects. Always be prepared because I will surprise you from time to time."

You looked around the class to see everyone was completely enthralled with this young man. The person to your left was a woman, maybe in her 40's. She looked nice. You leaned over and said, "I can't wait to see what kind of surprises he's talking about," and giggled. She put her hand over her mouth as she giggled back at your comment.

"Y/n, care to tell me what's so funny back there? I'm not here as a comedian. I'm here as an art teacher. So if comedy is more up your ... alley? Perhaps you would like to go to the room a few doors down and share your humor with everyone that isn't here to learn how to draw?"

You shut up real quick. "S-sorry ... uhhh, I-I don't know your name." You tilted your right ear toward him, waiting for his response.

"I was actually just getting to that before you flexed your humorous." He stared into your eyes for what seemed like an eternity. You don't think he blinked the entire time, either.

"My name is Kyojuro Rengoku. Yes. It's a mouthful. Yes, you have to call me by my full name or I will kick you out of this class."

Your body sunk as he laughed. "No, not really. You can call me Kyo. I'll write it on the board in such a way it'll be simple enough to pronounce." He grabbed the chalk and began to say out loud what he was writing. "Kee-yoh. Kyo. Simple enough, yes?" He looked at you. Again. What the hell was up with him. "See, y/n, I can be funny, too."

You nodded, feeling your cheeks pink up. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of you as your face transitioned back to its original color.

"Now, what exactly is going to be a surprise in this class, you're probably wondering. I presume you all read the waiver etc. that was included in your packet? I know I got most of them back all signed. If you didn't sign one, stay after and talk to me."

Shit, you thought, I never got anything like that.

└────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┘

Class was only 45 minutes tonight as it was just a basic introduction about what would be covered and when.

"Y/n, may I have a moment of your time?" He sounded so relaxed when he talked. You thought about asking him what his secret was. "Did you mail in your signed waiver? I sent it out with the syllabus about 3 weeks ago?"

You started to twist your bottom lip around with your teeth. "I ... I don't - ah, I mean I didn't ever get that. None of it, Kyo."

He was taken aback by your use of his name so casually. So effortlessly.

"Hm. Look over your information here and tell me if it's correct." He handed you a planner and had you find your name.

You pointed at it.

"Here's my name, phone # and addre-" You stopped and looked at him. "This is my old address. Where did you get this from?"

You'd moved 5 months ago to a little house. But you thought you'd changed everything over before you'd even moved out.

"I got it from here, from the school."

"Ohhh, oh no. I forgot to notify the school." You got a worried look on your face. "Does that mean I'm going to be kicked out of this class?" You didn't even try to disguise your concern.

"Nooo! No, nothing like that, y/n. But I will need you to fill one out, just to cover everything."

"Cover? Cover what? You doing blood sacrifices in here or something?" You laughed.

He didn't. "Among other things, yes."

You waited for him to tell you he was kidding.

A full minute must've gone by before he gave you a half-smile, the left side of his mouth turning upward.

"There will be no sacrifices of any kind in my class, little lamb. Do not worry." He chuckled, rather darkly for someone who was trying to be reassuring.

Little lamb. You're pretty sure you had a "little" orgasm when he called you that.

"Just initial on these and sign at the bottom?" You pointed at the paper.

He put his hand next to where you were pointing, almost resting it right on top of yours.

"Mmmm ... mm-hm. Did you read what it said, y/n?"

You shook your head, quickly at first but then you slowed to an almost complete still.

"It's just about ... about art, and ... other stuff. R-right?" You swallowed hard, it hurt.

"It's basically a declaration that you're ok with nudity in any capacity. You're ok with multiple bodies being nude and draped or sitting on one another. "Basically ..." he continued, "that you're not going to file a sexual harassment claim against myself or the school because you're uncomfortable. It states very obviously that there will be profound nudity in this course. If you're NOT ok with that, then you're free to change your mind, of course. You'll get a full refund, no questions asked."

He watched your face closely for any kind of a reaction.

"Who - who will be the nude model?" You asked, trying to use your big girl voice.

"Anyone who is willing to pose. Sometimes it's someone from class. Sometimes it's someone from a newspaper ad that needs some rainy day money." He paused, "And sometimes," he leaned back in his chair, "sometimes, it'll be me." A cocky look washed over his face. He knew what you were thinking. He was counting on it.

You almost lost your balance when he said that.

"Y-you pose?"

He nodded, looking a little proud of himself for having given you such a reaction.

"I - I think I'll stay in the class then."

"Fantastic. Sign ... right ... here."

Taglist: @callm3senpaii

[landosgirl97]

Not Too Sweet- Bradley Bradshaw

Warnings: Talk of diabetes, a little angst, worried Rooster, let me know if I missed anything!

——Reader’s POV

I walked into work late because I had so much difficulty waking up which means I didn’t get to see Bradley for very long before he was up in the air. I went to the locker room to lock my things in my locker and made my way out to talk to him briefly before I walked up to the control tower. Bradley saw me and jogged over before doing his checks on his jet. He leaned down to kiss my head and brushed my hair back behind my ear. His brows furrowed. “Baby, are you feeling okay? You’re sweating and clammy.” I shook my head. “I woke up and my blood sugar was really low so I’m still recovering.” He nods his head. “Tell Cyclone or Mav, baby, they’ll send you home. You have your medical waiver.” He was referring to the waiver I had to get to be in the Navy at all. Most people with Diabetes or hypoglycemia are not allowed in the military. I nodded my head as someone yelled for him. “I gotta go baby, let me know if you need anything.” Bradley said, giving me a quick kiss before going to do his pre-flight checks. I was mad at myself. I am usually really good at keeping my blood sugar under control. I fell asleep without eating last night and this is my penance.

I made my way slowly up the tower and found my spot at the window. Mav had either talked to Bradley or could tell something was off because he made his way over and knelt at my side. “You ok?” I nodded. “I’m okay Mav.” He looks at me questioningly but nods his head anyway and walks away. After they did their pre-flight checks, Bradley checked in. “Dagger Two to Tower, requesting permission to take off.” I cleared my throat before responding, “Dagger Two, the sky’s are clear. Have a safe flight.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking but I know he picked up on it. “ATC, are you okay?” I wanted to deny it but he knew. He knows everything. “I will be fine Lieutenant. You are cleared for take off.” I cut off the radio before Bradley could respond, noticing the way my hands were shaking. I wish I could get regulated but it almost seems impossible at this point. I didn’t realize I had zoned out until someone shook my shoulder.

“Hey,Y/N, your phone is beeping. It won’t stop.” I look up at Mav and put my hand out. He laid my phone in my hand and noticed the alert on the screen. “Y/N, why did you not tell me? I would’ve let you have some time off.” I shook my head. “I’m fine, Mav. I have a break soon.” He just shook his head and stood directly back from me. About 20 minutes later, I knew I needed to eat something or I’d hit the floor. I took my headset off, grabbing my phone and going to stand. After that, everything went dark.

——Bradley’s POV

I had only been in the air about 10 minutes when I heard a voice come in over my headset. “Dagger Two, this is Tower. Come in.” My heart dropped. It wasn’t Y/N, it was Maverick. “This is Dagger Two” “Listen, we have an ATC on the floor and need to know how to handle this.” My stomach dropped. “There are glucose gels and a granola bar in her bag. She always has it with her.” There is silence on the other line. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears as I wait for a response. “Found them. Now what.” “Prop her up and put the glucose gel in her mouth. Can I talk to another ATC and get permission to land?” I listened until I got permission to land, immediately circling back and landing. As soon as I finished everything that was needed, I ran up to the tower, seeing Mav on the floor with Y/N leaned onto his side, still knocked out. I bent down, grabbing Y/N off the floor and carrying her down the stairs, knowing she needed to go to the Infirmary. I laid her on the bed and sat with her until she finally came to. “Brad- you’re supposed to be in the air!” She said groggily. “Well, you’re supposed to be awake so, that makes two of us.” I heard her giggle slightly as color started to come back to her face. I breathed a sigh of relief and handed her the granola bar to start crunching on. “Just so you know, Mav gave us both the rest of the day off. You are to go home and rest. And I’m supposed to help take care of you and report back throughout the day. “But I-“ “Nope. It’s already done. Finish that and we are going home. I want to cuddle up with my girl.” I watched as she nodded and began to eat her granola bar quicker. I felt much more relieved knowing that she is okay and moving.

[chaoticbardlady99]

What about an astarion fic with a masc reader? I rarely see them, and I need it! He has me on my knees, honestly.

 One of Your Girls (Astarion x M! Reader) MDNI 18+

Title inspired by the song “One of Your Girls” by Troye Sivan

CW: Smut, fluff, dom! Reader, sub! Astarion, mentions of sexual trauma (really really wanna emphasis that I didn’t quite know what masc meant when I first began writing)

Author Note- I wasn’t able to find a video with Astarion’s proposition that wasn’t translated from Greek so I had to try to recreate the scene from memory (I don’t need my boyfriend asking to read my smut- he wants to, I’m not fond of the idea, ya know how it is). 

I have also noticed that there is not a lot of Masculine Reader x Astarion fics. I want to reiterate that I am a woman, so if you are a male and you read this fic, please let me know what you like about the content and maybe give me pointers on male behavior if you feel I’m off  (please remember to be kind, I just want to learn, not be crucified). 

    

Astarion stands at the entrance of his tent- impatiently tapping his foot against the ground as some pink-hair tiefling attempts to flirt with him. His instincts say stop being distracted. Focus on the very obviously interested woman in front of him, but he just can’t. 

  He had spent the last two weeks since he had met you trying to get you into his bed. However, he had never met someone more dense in his life. 

  He flirts with you constantly, he sees the blush color on your cheeks when he does. He sees how you try not to sneak glances at him when he decides to join you at the river to clean off. He sees your interest in him when you talk, in the way your eyes shine when he makes you laugh.

 While Astarion was almost certain that everyone in camp adored you and practically drooled everytime you walked by- he had really felt like he had secured his spot in your bed. Secured your protection.  

 Yet here he is- drinking shitty wine, being talked at by some girl, and watching you talk to everyone else, but him.

  He sneaks glances at you while pretending to be interested in whatever the woman is saying. He takes in all the details of your face- a soft smile pulls on his lip as he watches you erupt in laughter. The tiefling talking to him huffs and says something to him. She must have wisened up eventually because he suddenly doesn’t hear her incessant chattering in his ears.

  You wander around camp- all 6’2 and 230 lbs of you. Your body is chorded with strong muscles and littered in scars- the majority hidden away by your clothing. 

 You unceremoniously stomp around camp, talking and laughing with your other companions. You catch him staring and flash him one of your brilliant smiles. He watches as you take three massive gulps from your wine glass.

 For a Barbarian, you are quite charming in your own oblivious way. You are funny, brave, and morally gray. Your general disposition is magnetic- you could (and did) convince a Gnoll to eat itself. You are impulsive and quick to jump into battle which infuriates Astarion, but you always stand right next to his side- making sure that no harm will come to him. Sometimes, to your own detriment! How have you not asked to get into his bed!?

  You turn to who you are talking to, say something,  and begin walking towards Astarion. Astarion envies the way you walk- head held high, confident, but with a genuine smile on your face. You aren’t confident in a narcissistic, pompous way. You are confident in a humble way. You don’t let your ego lead your life. People like you and want to fight for you. He could never be anywhere close to the man you are, but that is why he needs you. You can convince the others to protect him when the time comes.

  You stop in front of him. He pours more wine in your glass as you hold it out to him. You take a sip and he watches as you look at him. He sees the confidence you have waiver slightly. 

   Strange.

 You step closer to him and take his hand in yours, running your thumb over his knuckles. Astarion exhales sharply and you go to jerk your hand back, an apology on your lips when Astarion grabs your hand. While the act of intimacy had surprised him, it certainly wasn’t uninvited. He would never admit it, but your touch lights him on fire in a way he has never experienced before. You look at your intertwined hands and blush. Astarion fights back a satisfied grin.

  So maybe I’m not wrong, maybe you are interested.

 Astarion smirks at you as he watches the pleased blush spread across your cheeks.

 “Sooooooo,” you say with a slight slur, “are you enjoying yourself tonight?”

   Astarion scowls and rolls his eyes, “you know I never pictured myself as a hero. Never thought I’d be the one they toast for saving so many lives and now that I’m here,” he pauses to take a drink, his tongue sticking out in disgust, “I hate it. This is awful.  I would have liked more for my troubles than a pat on the head and vinegar for wine.”

  It’s your turn to roll your eyes and a throaty chuckle comes out of your mouth. 

 “Well at least it’s a celebration,” you sigh, “I am grateful to have something to celebrate for- even though the wine is truly terrible.”

 “I was just hoping to be more…. Entertained.”

“True, the goblin’s probably would have thrown a much more wild party,” you quip.

 “Well, we could create our own entertainment…” Astarion says while watching your reaction.

  You stare at him quizzically, “Like play a game?”

   Astarion had to fight the urge to scream at the top of his lungs.

 Astarion pulls together his composure for a smile before he says, “No darling, I mean sex.”

 You stare at him wide eyed and Astarion is wondering if he read the situation wrong. Then you move forward, sliding your hand up his jaw, into his hair, gently pulling it. Astarion gasps as you press your mouth against his, your tongue gliding across his bottom lip before you pull it in with your teeth. You pull back, your grip on his hair loosening and you look into his eyes with a confident smirk.

  You put your mouth against his ear and whisper, “like that?”

 Astarion nods- if he needed air, it would have been knocked out of him. Your lips on his were electrifying. 

 “Let’s find each other when everyone goes to sleep,” he says while looking up at you with hooded eyes.

 Your grin gets even wider, “Gods, I thought you’d never ask.”

_________________________________________________________________________

   Astarion feels you lift him up and wrap him around your hips- his back colliding with the tree. Your lips are on his hungrily, needy, but with restraint as he feels your erection grow. Astarion makes quick work of your shirt and begins to move to the laces of your pants. 

  You palm him through his pants and he gasps against your lips. After your pants are off, you and Astarion work on his. When they are off, he throws them unceremoniously. You smile nervously at him.

 “I’m not very good at the whole, removing clothes thing,” you say with a breathy chuckle as you kiss down his neck, wrapping your hand around his hard cock. 

  Astarion moans and growls, putting his head into the crook of your neck. 

 “I’ve noticed. I’ve only been trying to seduce you for the last two weeks,” he manages to gasp out.

 “Well then,” you say with a lustful grin, “let me reward you for waiting so patiently.” 

    You set him down on his back and begin to kiss along his neck and down his body. One of your fingers glides into him and he stifles a moan. You put your mouth around the head of his cock as you pump your finger and then add another. Your mouth moves up and down- your rough tongue applying pressure in all the right places. He cums into your mouth while looking at you.

  It feels good, but Astarion is desperately trying not to dissociate. Yes, to an extent this feels significantly different and maybe even makes him feel happy? It just doesn’t erase two hundred years of being degraded and used. 

  He feels your mouth leave his cock and your fingers aren’t inside him anymore.  You don’t go to kiss him. He looks at you with confusion. You stare back in concern.

 “Astarion,” you start, “ if you aren’t into this… we don’t ne-”

 Astarion panics and grips your hair, pulling you towards him before crashing his lips against yours. You pull away to ask him again, but he beats you to it. He will not lose his protection- his only hope of freedom.

 “Of course I want this, “ he hisses against your lips, puncturing your lower lips with his fangs, “I just need you inside me already, darling.” 

  You still look unconvinced when he wraps his hand around your cock, stroking it. Your gasp sounds like music to his ears- the concern in your eyes fades and becomes replaced with lust. You kiss him hard on the mouth before you flip him on his stomach. Astarion gets up on all fours.

  Saved it. 

 You pump yourself- using the precum as lubricant. Astarion feels you press into his entrance slowly before slipping inside of him. He moans as he hears you release a quiet hiss.

  “Hells, “ you moan, tangling his hair in your fingers as you slowly rock your hips, “you feel so fucking good. Are you going to be good for me?”

  When he nods, you pull out and slam into him. Astarion cries out in pleasure as you hit that perfect spot inside of him.

 “I said, “ you growl, “are you going to be good for me?”

    “Yes,” he chokes out, tears pricking his eyes as you fill him up. You feel absolutely perfect inside of him.

 That was all you needed before you began to pound in and out of him- your hand snaking around his waist, jerking him off as you praise him for being so good for you. 

 Astarion is a moaning, screaming mess around and underneath you. He has never had anyone pay so much attention to his pleasure and as his second orgasm of the night rips through him, he feels you reach your release inside him. You collapse on top of him, using your arms to prop yourself up as you kiss his shoulders and his neck before rolling over, pulling him close to you. 

 ____________________________________________________________________________

   He feels you begin to relax into sleep with your arms around him. 

 “Will you stay?”

  He hears you say quietly- the confidence in your voice not there. He turns around in your arms and looks at your hopeful, nervous face. He smiles, the look on your face snapping him out of the trance he was in. Astarion nods and presses a chaste kiss on your mouth before turning around again.

  Once Astarion is sure you have fallen asleep, he fights back the urge to cry. He knows it’s different- being with you felt like nothing he has ever experienced before, but he still couldn’t shake the tainted feeling in his chest as you held him close. Not because he doesn’t want to stay here in your arms, but because the reminder that all he was created for was sex; suddenly became too heavy of a burden to bear.

[eyesthatroll]

wip catalogue ! ft. qh43, lh43, jh86, nm29, tz11, jc37, dm91

author's note; hey everyone, mari here, just wanted to say thank you for 1k followers!!!!!!!!1 that's crazy, and you guys are so so amazing and cool and swag. i thought about doing a celly, (fun fact, i've never done one of those!) but i've decided to save that for next time and attempt to do a draft clean out.

i have 117 drafts, really just pages upon pages of unfinished work that i'd like to get out at some point. so, if you enjoy my writing, under the cut will be excerpts from fics/oneshots/series' that i haven't finished. if any of them of them peak your interest, please let me know by either leaving a comment, or something in my inbox. i'll try and work on the ones that have the most interest first, and then finish the others. if this doesn't make sense, or you have any questions, you can let me know in the same fashion.

dad!jt compher x fem!reader

Eamon huffs out of frustration. “She’ll already marry Sammy B. by then.”

Laughter escapes JT’s lips, “and who is Sammy B.?”

He huffs again. “He has black hair, and he sits by her in reading. Why can’t I have hair like mommy?”

“I got my hair color from my dad, your papa, just like you got yours from daddy.” You explain.

“Well, I don’t want daddy’s stupid h-hair.” Eamon’s voice waivers, and the tears that he was holding in begin to free fall. He turns into your side, clutching your shirt.

This idea randomly came to me. Eamon would probably be in either first or second grade, and has a little crush like all kids have. Said crush doesn't like his hair color, and tells him that flat out because kids are menaces and very blunt. OR. Was floating around the idea of the same concept, but perhaps a teenage girl? tween girl, maybe middle school age, and the boy she likes only likes blondes, so she asks to dye her hair blonde? But obviously that conversation would be waaaay more mature. I don't know. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader (best friends brother/kinda enemies to lovers)

"You can put your drink on my tab." A voice says, coming up from behind you, a hand on the small of your back as he takes a seat at the barstool to your right. You smile to yourself, shaking your head before turning to him.

You quirk a brow at him, "I did that already."

He rolls his eyes at your answer, taking a sip of his own drink, some beer you'd never heard of until earlier tonight. You'd taken a sip of Luke's earlier, and about gagged at the taste. "Of course you did."

You shrug your shoulders, no shame in your game. You were at a bar with about a dozen NHL players, you'd be damned if you had to buy your own drinks. "I already told Lukey I'm not paying for anything this weekend."

The request: Hiii can I request something where reader and luke know each other from college and they’re at a party or bar and jack is visiting luke so they see each other and jack is interested in reader but she’s playing hard to get 🤭

I changed the request a bit, so it's set in this season when Luke is already with the Devils, and reader visits during that 5 game homestead. This would probably be a long one shot, and I like the idea of combining these tropes:

forbidden

best friends brother

enemies to lovers (but not insanely enemies)

(more below, but a different part than above)

He scoffs, his hand pushing into your shoulder, playfully of course. "I love this relationship that we have."

You quirk a brow, bringing your glass to your lips, finishing off the rest of your white russian. "And what relationship is that?"

"The one where you pretend you're not in love with your best friends older brother."

"I always did like Quinn." You respond, an innocent smile on your lips.

"No-"

You cut him off. "Plus, he has that whole Captain thing going on. Very sexy."

"He has a girlfriend!" He exclaims.

You shrug your shoulders, leaning in closer to face him. "That's too bad."

You're obviously joking, but Jack doesn't seem to catch on. "And, you're too young for him."

You shoot him a questioning look. "But not for you, huh?"

He slides his barstool closer to yours, the fabric of his jeans making contact with the bare skin of your knee. "Are you still dating that college fuck, what was his name.. Alan?"

Your tongue rolls over your bottom lip. "Aiden."

He nods, feigning a look of realization, while you both know that he knew his name. "Right, Aiden." He confirms. "The guy who leaves you on the side of the road at 3am."

You scoff, shaking your head. "That was one time."

Your eyes shoot to his palm, that has found a place on your thigh, his warm hand against your cold skin sending a chill throughout your body.

"I could never leave a pretty girl like you on the side of the road." He continues.

Probably going to have a lot of bickering throughout the fic, reader will be hardheaded and uncompromising on fucking up her friendship with Luke. I haven't fleshed out the personalities I want them to have yet so this is in a very rough stage. If you have any thoughts, feel free to let me know.

———

nathan mackinnon x fem!reader (5 year age gap)

“Today’s my 23rd birthday.” You say, before taking a sip of your drink, your attention to the right, where a man as struck up a conversation with you at the bar.

He takes a swig of his beer, his eyes roaming your body before they finally meet your gaze again. He looks conflicted, his brows tensed as if battling an internal war.

You weren’t stupid. You graduated college top of your class—with honors, and even if you hadn’t, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that you were speaking to an older man.

The only man, to even catch a sliver of your entire, in the entire bar. You’d caught eyes with him from across the room, back when you were pushed in a booth with your friends. He looked away immediately, but you could feel his eyes on you every now and again, before you finally excused yourself from the table and went up to the bar. You wore a black slip dress, your hair cascading down your back with silver glitter hair tinsel placed throughout. You didn't bother turning to see if he would follow you, you don't chase, you attract. If he sat in the chair next to you, then he was buying you a drink. And if he didn't, then you'd move on to the next.

“Happy Birthday.” He finally said.

"What happened to your nose?" You were over the birthday formalities-having received them all night. You had questions for the man sitting next to you, starting with his bruised nose, a prominent and formidable feature dominating his face that you couldn't take your eyes off of. With him looking straight at you, you could see that it curved slightly to your right. Nothing stopped the thoughts of feeling it against your skin.

"My nose?" He questions. There's surprise in his tone of voice, like he forgot about the bruise on his nose, or surprised that you'd asked about it.

"Quite the shiner you got there." You comment again, bringing your glass to your lips again, this time finishing off the rest.

"Uh-" he pauses. There it is again with those tensed eyebrows, you wished you could gauge what he was thinking about. "Work incident."

"Damn, where do you work?" You let out a chuckle. You hadn't meant to be blunt, but you couldn't imagine what line of work would create a bruise like that.

He finishes his beer, setting it back on the counter with a light thud. "I work in..sports."

"What are you like a gym teacher?"

He laughs, for the first time since he's sat down next to you. You could tell that he had a nice smile. "Something like that."

Another fic starting in a bar. Don't know how this started, but very self indulgent as I am 22 and suffer from nate mac brainrot daily ! I have no idea for plot at all, literally nothing. I'd probably want to include smut of some sort, that seems very much where the vibe is heading, but I am absolutely terrible at writing it, so I'll have to do some research and practice writing that (if you have any tips-please let me know!!)

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader (debating on making this an oc)

Quinn and Reader (debating on making reader an OC!) are getting married in a week, and reader is still struggling to write her vows. Will probably be a long fic and include the wedding. A bit angsty, but a lot of fluff to make up for it. I'd probably give reader/oc emotionally distant parents?? Or maybe her parents are divorced? Not sure. It'll mid offseason, so we'll probably see a lot of familiar faces (j. norris, b. tkachuk, etc.)

Your frustration mounted as you released an exasperated sigh, the eraser of your pencil frantically working overtime to correct yet another line that failed to capture the right essence. You flicked away the eraser remnants with a swift motion of your palm, straightening out your legs and allowing the spiral notebook to settle in your lap. Leaning back against the arm of the couch, you closed your eyes, simultaneously opening and closing your hand in an attempt to alleviate the cramping in your fingers. A burgeoning headache threatened to take hold, and you could feel a slight discomfort in your eyes after hours of writing without the aid of your glasses.

A week, you were getting married in a week, and you still hadn't finished writing your vows. Admittedly, you had procrastinated until the last minute, but you hadn't anticipated the challenge to be this daunting. Your love for Quinn surpassed anything you had ever experienced, so why was expressing it in words proving to be such a formidable task? Frustration morphed into annoyance, and you carelessly tossed the notebook onto the modest coffee table before rising from the couch and heading towards the bathroom.

You were grateful that no one was home at the moment. Everyone had gone out for lunch, and you chose to remain behind, citing a lack of sleep the previous night as the reason for your decision to take a nap. While that wasn't entirely false – your night had indeed been restless – your true intention wasn't to catch up on sleep while the others were away. Quinn, being the caring soul he was, insisted on staying with you, but you resisted his efforts and practically ushered him out the door. That was about an hour ago, and you were keenly aware that their return was imminent.

Delving into the medicine cabinet, your fingers located the bottle of aspirin. You poured two into your palm, easily popping them into your mouth and washing them down with water from the sink. Gazing into the mirror, you couldn't help but cringe at your reflection. The extent of your fatigue hit you with full force – the bags under your eyes were darker than you had ever seen them.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

This would probably just be a fluffy, short, domestic blurb, don't really have any other plot ideas for this.

Arriving home from work, all you wanted to do was take a shower and collapse into your bed. Tonight was an exception, with your shift extending later than usual, around 10:30, instead of your customary 9. Combine that with your regular hour-long commute, and it's almost midnight by the time you finally get home. Silently navigating through the dark and quiet house, it appears that your boyfriend is already asleep. However, as you step into your shared bedroom, you find him slumped against the headboard, eyes fixed on his iPad, headphones in.

The soft glow from the screen casts a muted ambiance in the room, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. Your initial fatigue gives way to a subtle pang of guilt, realizing he stayed up to wait for you, something he quite often did when he was home, even though you insisted he not.

He doesn't notice you, until you've crossed over to your dresser to grab your nightclothes before your shower, slightly jumping before dropping his iPad and taking out his headphones. "Hey, you're finally home." He comments, climbing out of his previous spot on the bed to sit at the edge of the bed, his legs hanging off the edge.

You yawn, turning around to face him. "Don't you have to be up early tomorrow?" You question. He pats his thighs, gesturing for you step over to him.

Leaving your clothes to rest on the dresser, you walk over to him. Quinn widens his legs so you can step in between them. Wordlessly, his fingers trail up your waist, to your chest, beginning to undo the buttons of your white lab coat. He slides the fabric off your shoulders, leaving only the black satin blouse you'd been wearing underneath.

He pulls gently at your collar, drawing your lips to his softly. His hands drop to your waist, gripping at your sides to guide you on top of him until you're straddling him.

"Are you okay, Quinn?" you ask, breaking apart from the kiss, just enough for your foreheads to remain pressed against each other.

"Just missed you." he mumbles, pulling you into a hug, his head finding a comfortable spot in the crook of your neck.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Toxicity, angst, angry sex, maybe second chance love, idk.

"Where have you been?" Jack's inquiry slices through the air, surprising you as you step quietly through the front door. Your boyfriend, still awake and perched on the couch, rises to his feet the moment the door closes, arms crossed at his chest, a sour expression gracing his features. Your brows furrow in confusion as you lift one foot behind you, placing your hand on the wall for balance while attempting to undo your heel.

"What?" His question catches you off guard, especially because you had left him multiple messages earlier, clearly communicating your plans for the night—messages that went unanswered, leaving you on read once again. He sighs, a mix of frustration and concern, and crosses over to you, bending down. Without a word, he grabs your knee, gently pulling your heel-clad foot to rest on your knee, his hands deftly moving to undo the straps. He repeats the same with the other foot, before releasing you of his hold.

"I don't like you being out this late," he says, the firmness in his voice evident as he pushes himself up from his feet. Suddenly, he's towering over you, and you angle your neck to look up at him, annoyance etching your face.

"Sorry, Dad, didn't realize I had a curfew," you slur with a wry smile, a hint of laughter punctuating the absurdity of his concern. With a last dismissive glance, you shake your head and push past him, your shoulder bumping into his side as you ascend the stairs to the bedroom.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn shows the reader that she can enjoy her birthday when the two of them spend it together for the first time. Would be super fluffy, reader will be written to have two dads, though I might make it an OC instead.

Quinn's persistent nuzzling against your shoulder blade disrupts your peaceful slumber. With a groan, you bury your head deeper into the pillow, yearning to cling to a few more precious moments of sleep before the demands of the day pull you from its embrace. Gradually, he initiates a series of tender kisses, commencing at your collarbone and concluding at that delightful spot just beneath your neck. "Happy Birthday, Angel," Quinn murmurs, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

Gently parting your eyelids, you shift on your other side to meet his gaze. His eyes are already fixed on you, brimming with adoration, as his teeth graze at his bottom lip. The morning sunlight filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow that accentuates just how gorgeous he truly is. Even in the early hours, with disheveled hair and faint remnants of drool, he remains undeniably handsome in every retrospect.

"Thank you," you express your gratitude softly, a subtle shyness tinting your voice.

Birthdays, even as a child, never held much appeal for you. The discomfort of being the focal point, the recipient of attention, has remained a constant, and birthdays, with their inevitable spotlight, are something you've always actively avoided. Yet, here you are, facing a birthday that feels different, primarily because Quinn is here to share it with you. This marks the first birthday you're spending with him in the span of your three year relationship, and it's a welcomed departure from the usual routine. It's a rarity, considering his demanding schedule that seldom grants him time off, but you know it's because he'll be leaving for a four game road-trip on Monday.

Reaching over, his hand envelops yours, fingers applying deliberate pressure that prompts a satisfying crack from your knuckles. It's a peculiar habit he picked up from you, a subtle exchange of quirks that began when you surprised him with it initially. "I have a special day planned for you," he announces, punctuating his words with a tender kiss pressed into the center of your palm.

"You know I don't want a fuss, Quinn," you mumble, weariness etched across your features.

He senses your reluctance and responds swiftly, his touch gentle as he brushes a strand of hair away from your eyes. "Not too much," he reassures, his words soothing against your worries. "Just want to celebrate you, Angel, on your day." Drawing nearer, he shifts, propping himself up on his right arm as he hovers over you. "Will you let me?" He wets his bottom lip, anticipation palpable as he awaits your response.

A small, close-lipped smile graces your lips as you reach up, your fingers delicately tracing over the overgrown scruff that lines his face. "Of course I will." A wide grin spreads across his face in response to your words, and he leans in, morning breath be damned, as your lips meet in a soft, synchronized dance.

He breaks apart, planting a kiss on your nose, before carefully stepping over you to get out of bed. "You get ready, I'll make breakfast."

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader (but not really)

This is part two to Nobody's Love. I finished it, but I absolutely hate it, and will basically be starting over from square one. Below is where we would've left off, but when I finish this properly, it won't start with this dialogue, it will probably open within a flashback, and this part will be later in the story (if that makes sense).

"What's going on here?" Your blood runs cold at the sound of his voice, and you immediately break away from Jack, moving with an urgency as if you'd been caught doing something forbidden. Frantically, your hands move to wipe away the lingering traces of tears that you'd shed just moments ago. But your efforts to disguise your emotions prove futile as Luke's keen eyes detect the remnants of your sorrow, and his face contorts into a mix of confusion and well-intended concern.

"Why is she crying? What did you do to her?" Luke's voice brims with accusation, his words directed at his brother.. He takes a step forward, his intent to comfort you clear in his movement. You instinctively shuffle backwards, creating a protective distance, your arms loosely crossing over your chest.

Jack scoffs, disbelief etched across his features. "I didn't do anything," he retorts, his tone dripping with emphasis on the word 'I,' subtly implying that Luke is the source of your distress.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Luke's words slice through the air, laced with an unmistakable edge. His face tinges with a reddish hue as his gaze drills into Jack.

Again, would love to give you a bigger excerpt, but I hate everything else of what I've written LMAO. Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

quinn hughes x darcy sorokin (black fem!oc)

Basically a quinn x single mom au. May rewrite this entire thing. Also, started this months ago and loved the name Sunny for the kid (Sunny Sorokin) (no relation to the hockey player) but now I kind of hate it :)

Quinn became utterly enamored with her the moment his gaze met hers in the diner. She was a delightful surprise, replacing his usual waiter, Johnny, to collect his order. Her dark skin seemed to radiate a subtle glow under the dim diner lights, and her curly hair was artfully gathered in a loose bun resting at the back of her neck, adorned with a floral bandana draped over it. When she smiled, her dimples and the slight gap between her front teeth only added to her charm, leaving Quinn captivated and unable to shake thoughts of her for days.

Quinn stumbled upon Alma’s, the quaint diner, during his rookie year in Vancouver. Its unassuming atmosphere, a hidden gem tucked away, immediately resonated with him, providing a sense of ease. Combine that with the staff’s familial treatment, and he easily became a regular patron. Now, however, his visits weren’t just about unwinding and savoring a meal; he hoped to encounter the beautiful waitress he had learned was named Darcy (not through inquiry, but thanks to her name tag — he was too anxious to ask). Quinn relished any excuse to come to the diner, whether to be served by Darcy or simply steal glances at her when she wasn’t looking.

Quinn’s attempts to discreetly observe Darcy didn’t go unnoticed. She could sense the weight of his gaze, subtly tracking her movements around the diner. Intrigued and slightly puzzled by his behavior, Darcy decided to approach her co-worker, Johnny, to inquire about this regular customer. Johnny, with his wealth of experience at the diner, shared that Quinn was a nice guy who had been a faithful patron for years. He detailed Quinn’s routine of ordering the same breakfast every morning—soft scrambled eggs on wheat—followed by prolonged disappearances, especially during the summer months. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Darcy’s curiosity about the handsome and somewhat mysterious customer deepened. 

Darcy couldn’t deny the undeniable attractiveness of the man. His chestnut brown hair, steadily growing out since their first encounter, months ago, often required his attention as he habitually moved it out of his line of sight. His eyes, a deep brown that occasionally hinted at hazel in the early morning light. The way his teeth grazed over his bottom lip during conversation, though she was unsure if it was born out of nervousness or mere habit. Following the tumultuous chapter with her ex-boyfriend, after nearly five years, another man had finally found a place in her thoughts.

She harbored these thoughts secretly, keeping them locked away from anyone but herself. With her son, Sunny, now five years old, she couldn’t afford to be hasty. Sunny, more aware of his surroundings, comprehended things with greater clarity. She had already delicately explained the departure of his father, her ex-boyfriend, wanting to shield him from the unnecessary pain of the wondering, not knowing. And despite yearnings for companionship, she held the burden of guilt for Sunny’s lack of a father figure, and understood the importance of not rushing into a relationship that wasn’t genuine. Both she and Sunny deserved better, and she was determined to prioritize their well-being.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

quinn hughes x fem!reader

Quinn and Reader go to their favorite diner late after a game. Probably lots of fluff, reminiscing. Possibly out of character Quinn, not too sure if he'd be into pda in front of the wags LOL.

Hovering in the distant corner, your fingers nervously toyed with the security pass draped around your neck, its edge resting just above the waistline of your jeans. A cluster of other wives and girlfriends lingered in the same vicinity, engaged in casual banter among themselves. You offered polite smiles, but there was no effort on their part to include you, nor did you make any overtures to join their conversation.

At last, you caught sight of a familiar mop of brown hair making its way down the hallway. The impulse to sprint towards him, leap into his arms, and plant an immediate kiss on his lips surged within you. However, with watchful eyes fixed on you, you opted for a more restrained approach, contenting yourself with a gentle caress of your hand against his right bicep. "Great game, Quinn."

A puzzled expression settles on his face, seemingly oblivious to the attention directed your way, or perhaps indifferent to it. His calloused hands find their place on your waist, guiding you closer as he dips his head low to meet your lips. Your fingers intertwine around his neck, and as his towering figure elevates you slightly off the ground, he murmurs, "Thank you, baby."

An orchestra of 'awws' surrounds you, a symphony of approval that bathes your cheeks in warmth. Quinn, charmed by your bashful response, lets out a chuckle, drawing you back into the protective embrace of his side. As he ushers both of you towards the back door, he bids the women farewell with a casual, "Goodnight, ladies," leaving the echo of their admiration suspended in the air.

"Goodbye, Quinn!" Their voices lingered with a touch of wistful admiration. You couldn't help but notice the collective enchantment Quinn seemed to cast on them. It wasn't entirely surprising—your boyfriend possessed a magnetic blend of boyish charm and dorky allure that had a way of rendering anyone weak in the knees. Since being crowned captain and amassing a string of victories, his newfound confidence only added to his undeniable sex appeal.

The night air nips at the exposed skin, coaxing you to cling closer to Quinn's comforting frame. As you approach the car, the two of you reluctantly break apart. "Do you want me to drive?" Quinn shakes his head with an easy smile, planting a tender kiss on your forehead before courteously opening the passenger side door for you.

You smoothly slide into the car, and Quinn secures the door behind you. With a jog to the driver's side, he swiftly settles into the seat, key in the ignition. Your hand instinctively reaches for the heat controls, but Quinn, ever attentive, beats you to it. After ensuring your seatbelt is on, he rests his hand on your thigh, the warmth of his touch contrasting the cool night air as he skillfully navigates out of the once bustling parking garage.

"Eddie's?" His voice dances just above the soft melody of the radio in the background. Tilting your head to the left, you catch his gaze for a fleeting moment before his focus returns to the road.

"Okay" You nod absentmindedly, a yawn escaping your lips as you lean your head against the window of the car.

He peers at you once more, skepticism lingering in his gaze. "Are you sure? We can just call it a night and head home if you're tired."

Your hand descends onto his, offering a reassuring squeeze. Fatigue clings to you, but the knowledge that he's hungry and wouldn't eat if you went home propels you forward. "I want to go out with you, Quinn."

A grin overtakes his lips, and he brings your hand up to his mouth, peppering a kiss against your palm.

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

dawson mercer x juniper hughes (fem!oc) (luke's twin)

Remember last halloween when I floated around the idea of dawson x hughes sister. I started it, barely a sliver into the universe. I also know very little about dawson other than I think he's an absolute cutie pie, so I'll have to do some research for this series for sure. Will deal with heavy topics such as alcoholism, addiction, etc, so if that is triggering for you, this may not be the series for you, please take care of yourself, love you.

Juniper Hughes was no stranger to the judgmental eyes. They seemed to trail her everywhere she went, the invisible weight of societal expectations bearing down on her, reminding her both of who her family was and who she wasn't. While her brothers excelled as perfect, professional athletes, following in her parents' footsteps, she had been on a different journey—one of recovery from alcoholism after her expulsion from school due to underage drinking.

Twelve long years of arduous study, relentless commitment to extracurricular activities, unending string of tests, and the suffocating pressure of expectations—Juniper endured it all. Only one fateful night was enough to strip away everything she'd worked for. In the blink of an eye, her scholarship to Brown University was lost, her only friend torn from her, and her dignity shattered into pieces. The ruthless media, once her cheerleaders, rapidly transformed into her tormentors, subjecting her to a public shaming campaign for her mistakes, constantly drawing odious comparisons with her accomplished brothers. The intrusive question hung heavily in the air, echoing endlessly: where had her parents gone wrong with her?

Why was she so deeply flawed while her brothers seemed to glide through life unburdened? Why couldn't she manage a regular relationship-whether it was with alcohol, food, or people, but they could? Juniper's life had always been marked by relentless effort, a result of sheer necessity. Unlike her brothers, nothing seemed to come naturally to her—school, sports, it all required double the hard work just to lag two steps behind them. Alcohol served as her escape, a means to shed the heavy cloak of perfectionism that enveloped her. It provided release, a fleeting respite from her self-imposed pressures. Juniper enjoyed the person she became when she drank, but the mornings after, the ensuing guilt and repercussions, they ruined her.

"Cleaned out the guest bedroom for you, Twinny," Luke's voice is gentle as he opens the bedroom door, ushering you inside. Juniper offers him a nod, accompanied by a faint smile, and steps into the room. It's devoid of any distinctive character, featuring only four white walls, a simple bed, and a closet. As she walks around, she can't help but grimace, the stark emptiness of the room triggering memories of your time in the rehab center.

Juniper gracefully lowers herself onto the edge of the bed, her fingers delicately tracing the intricate designs on the black and white duvet. Luke and Jack linger in the doorway, observing her with wordless, almost reverent gazes, as if any sound might shatter the fragile stillness of the room. She clears her throat, then turns her gaze toward her brothers. "Thanks."

While this fic will deal with heavy topics, I don't want this entire series to be super depressing, so I'll try and add equal amounts fluff!!

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Part of the Bless the Broken Road series. Jack gets the kids up and takes them to school for the first time without readers help. Super fluffy. Might completely rewrite it, though.

"Hey, wake up." Y/N shakes Jack awake, her hand pressing into his shoulder as she takes a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.

Jack groans, stirring in his sleep, his eyes squinting open to meet her chocolate brown gaze.

"Remember, school starts at 8, kids need to be up by 7, and you need to be out the door no later than 7:45."

Y/N leaned down to plant a tender kiss on his forehead before straightening up. With grace, she retrieved her phone from the dresser and picked up her coat hanging from the back of the door. "Yeah, I know, I got it, baby," he dismissed, though when Y/N glanced back at him, his eyelids had drooped shut once more.

She flicks his cheek. "Don't fall back asleep!"

She was well aware of Jack's exhaustion, considering he had a late game last night that went into overtime. However, she had a scheduled meeting with a contractor at the bakery early in the morning, which meant Jack had to shoulder the responsibility of taking the twins to school.

Smacking her finger away, he forced his eyes open once more and sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I'm up." He rasps, "now go before you're late."

She gives him a knowing look, shaking her head. "Call me if you need anything."

"We'll be fine." He assures.

Things were definitely not fine. Jack couldn't pinpoint when or how it happened, but at some indeterminate moment, he'd drifted back into sleep, only to be roused by a gentle poking on his forehead and a soft voice by his side. He blinked his eyes open, finding his youngest son, Adler, right in front of him, his lips curved into a pout.

"Where's mommy?" Adler asks.

Jack's eyes shoot wide open, and he promptly sits up, his gaze fixed on the alarm clock perched atop the dresser, which displayed the time as 7:36. With a swift hand running through his tousled brown hair, he mutters a curse under his breath. Adler instinctively takes a step back as Jack moves abruptly, his tiny hands fidgeting nervously, forming knots of unease in front of him.

Exhaling a deep breath, Jack pushed off the covers, swinging his feet to the right side of the bed. He gently grasps Adler's shoulders, using one hand to push stray curls out of his eye line, his voice soft and reassuring. "Mommy had to go to work early today,"

Adler nods. "So no school today?"

Jack shakes his head. "I'm gonna take you. Will you wake up your brother for me, please?"

He nods, and Jack breaks into a grin, pulling Adler into a tight hug. With a gentle lift, Jack stands up, eliciting gleeful giggles from Adler as he spins them around in a circle. The sound of the child's laughter fills the quiet stillness of the house, prompting laughter of Jack's own. Setting Adler back down, the boy immediately dashes off, sprinting back to his bedroom.

———

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

jack hughes x fem!reader (ex-situationship to lovers??)

Months ago, when Jack had insisted that you attend your first hockey game when the season started, he had presented you with one of his jerseys. It had ended up tucked away in the back of your closet, gathering dust and fading into oblivion. In fact, you'd nearly forgotten about it altogether. However, the morning after your conversation with Luke, a sudden thought about what to wear to the game had crossed your mind. You were certain of one thing: you had no intention of donning Jack's jersey. You did briefly consider asking Luke for one, but that would have been counterproductive since he shared the same last name as him. Instead, you were determined to indulge in a little pettiness.

On that particular day, you impulsively ordered a Red Wings jersey from eBay. It happened to be Moritz Seider's jersey, though you didn't really know much about him, or whether he was still actively playing or not. Frankly, you didn't care. You had no intention of cheering for the Red Wings, you simply saw the purchase as a final "fuck you" to Jack Hughes.

Reader and Jack "breakup" and so she wears a different jersey to a game to spite him. Jack gets jealous, yada yada you can probably guess the vibes.

———

trevor zegras x fem!reader (bookstore owner)

Trevor comes into readers bookshop a couple times a week, begging to take her out on a date. Might turn into a 3 times he asked and the 1 time she said yes type thing. Not sure!

"Go on a date with me." Your gaze transitions from the non-fiction books that you were presently shelving to the tall blonde on your right. He regards you with eager anticipation, awaiting your response, although it seems to be no different from all the previous rejections you've given him.

"Don't you have anything more productive to do than pester me while I'm trying to work?" Your voice carries a tinge of irritation as you descend from the small stepladder.

He offers a nonchalant shrug, feigning innocence with an expression of mock sincerity. "Just one date."

You push your way past him, making contact with his side as you stride back toward the front desk. He tails you, mirroring your movements like a lost puppy, eventually leaning his elbows casually on the tall counter, opposite to where you take a seat behind it.

"Why must you deny this obvious chemistry?" He's teasing, his face leaning on his hand as he looks intently at you. You let out a huff of laughter, settling into the spinny chair.

"Does rejection get you off or something?"

Let me know your thoughts if you have any.

———

luke hughes x fem!reader

Reader broke up with Luke months ago, and doesn't expect to see him again, but she does, and he wants answers. Angsty, but will probably have a happy ending.

You tried your best to move on from him, putting in every ounce of effort you could to try and forget him. You threw yourself into your work, deliberately steered clear of the songs that held his memory, and even canceled your ESPN Plus subscription to shield yourself from the overpowering sadness that welled up whenever you saw him on the ice.

You weren't angry with him; anger had no place in your heart. After all, you were the one who had made the difficult decision to end things with him. You had asked him to leave your apartment as he struggled through sobs, his voice filled with desperation, seeking answers about what had led to the dissolution of your relationship. And despite the tears brimming in your own eyes, you didn't break down, standing your ground as he tried to challenge your conclusion.

Your sadness clung to you like a relentless shadow, casting a long and persistent gloom over your life for months. The vibrant and extroverted girl you once were seemed like a distant memory as you found solace in the confines of your home. Days passed in mechanical, robotic-like motions, each one blending into the next in a monotonous blur. Even the cheerful banter and laughter of your co-workers, which once provided a semblance of happiness, now felt like distant echoes in the cavernous emptiness of your heart. And nights were spent curled up on the couch, lost in the embrace of comforting films from your childhood, each frame a desperate attempt to escape the crushing loneliness that had become your all-encompassing reality.

You were aware it wasn't healthy, and though that knowledge weighed on you like a heavy anchor, you made no effort to climb up to the surface for air. The relentless ache in your chest, filled with sorrow and regret over losing the boy you had loved so deeply, was like a suffocating fog, clouding your vision at every turn. You couldn't go anywhere without being haunted by phantom images of him, his presence lingering like a stubborn ghost in the back of your mind.

It only got worse in the weeks leading up to the Devils vs. Red Wings game. You were aware that he would be in town, and that knowledge sent you spiraling into self-pity and uncertainty. You had deliberately steered clear of any rumors about his dating life, but your mind couldn't help but obsessively wonder whether he still missed you. Whether he mourned the loss of your relationship, or had moved on to someone better – a fear that had haunted you ever since he moved to Jersey even before the breakup.

It's a rainy Tuesday night, and you impassively make your way to Walmart with one single purpose in mind: to purchase alcohol and junk food. Your plan was simple – to watch the game and numb your sorrows with alcohol. You were fully aware of how pathetic it might seem, but at that moment, you simply don't care.

You stretch up onto your tiptoes, straining to reach a tall bottle of merlot perched on the top shelf, your shopping basket hanging from the crook of your elbow. In your haste to secure your wine, a sudden, sharp pain pierces your sternum. Your grip falters, and the basket slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor with an ear-splitting thud. One hand flies to your chest, your fingers resting on your heartbeat that pounded wildly against the thin fabric of your shirt. Disoriented, you stumble backward, the voice of a concerned stranger echoing in the distance as your vision blurs and darkness encroaches.

Let me know if you have any thoughts.

———

jack hughes x fem!reader

Jack spends the night at Readers apartment for the first time, and asks her to move in with him. Probably would be a short blurb, maybe 1k-1.5k words and under.

"You live in this building?" Jack inquires, his gaze sweeping over the aging building, a typical five-story apartment complex in dire need of renovation. You nod at him, shutting the passenger-side door as you step out.

"Is this area safe?" He inquires, his eyes lingering hesitantly on the parking lot.

You were roughly forty minutes from Jack's neighborhood, and while this area was a bit rundown and perhaps less safe, you thankfully had never encountered any issues.

"Uh, yeah," you respond, taking Jack's hand and leading him toward the entrance. After a moment of rummaging in your bag, you locate the key to the building, insert it into the lock, and swing the door open. Jack grabs the door, gesturing for you to enter first.

Your building lacked an elevator, so you faced a long climb to the fifth floor, where apartment 48B awaited.

As you unlocked the door, you visually cringed at the chaotic scene that greeted you. Clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor, dishes forming a precarious tower in the sink. You hadn't had a chance to tidy up before Jack insisted on spending the weekend in your modest abode. And although you hesitated, knowing your apartment was far from perfect, you couldn't resist any longer. You two had been dating for about a month, and he had yet to see where you lived. He'd casually mentioned it a few times, so you knew it was time to swallow your pride and invite him over.

"Sorry bout' the mess." You apologize, nearly tripping over yourself to grab a pile of clothes off the floor.

Jack runs his hand across the wall to his right, his fingers tracing the scattered nail gun holes. "What the hell happened to the wall?" he asks, furrowing his brows in concern.

You pause in your cleaning, turning to face him. "Oh, the neighbors like to get drunk and play with their nail gun. Don't stand too close." you warn, shaking your head.

———

quinn hughes x pharmacist!femreader

Nothing started for this, but my time working in a retail pharmacy has me obsessed with writing this pairing. Might make her an OC, though. I love the idea of a badass working woman who doesn't put her life on hold just because she's married to a hockey player.

———

If you're wondering about the status of Never Have I Ever, I'm gonna be honest, I may discontinue that 🫣. Sorry! I just have no motivation to write out that storyline now, but maybe sometime in the future I will.

author's note part two: Obviously this isn't all of my wips, only some, and most haven't been edited at all and a very rough drafts, but I wanted to give you a glimpse of what I have sitting in my drafts. I also have a lot of things in my inbox that I want to get written, but I have been slacking (clearly). I also wanna do some song fics because I've never done one and think that could be cool. Again, if you have any thoughts, don't hesitate to let me know.

[gamie99]

Hey, Skibidi Tumblr! Let's do another writing exercise!

I posted the first of these a few months ago on Christmas Day, and I absolutely loved all the responses you guys made! I had so much fun reading your additions, that I just had to do another one! In fact, I've had this exact prompt brewing in the back of my mind for forever! I think y'all will really like it!

(I wanted to add concept doodles to this prompt too, but I'm tired rn and can't be bothered lmao. Maybe I'll add them later ^^;)

In case you missed it, here's the gist!:

Under the cut, I've written a little scene with dialogue involving some of my OCs (in this case, Skip and Solo!). Anyone that wants to participate can reblog this post with their own characters, reacting and responding to the provided scenario!

If you aren't all that good at writing but still want to participate, then that's alright. Bullet points describing your character's thoughts or actions, or even drawing your OC's response are perfectly fine as well!

Happy writing, everybody! Can't wait to see what you'll make this time! :D

They had them cornered now.

In a dark and tiny alleyway in the heart of an old-world city, two traitors stood against the world. The first of them, a lanky Speakerman, dressed in a gray suit and a rather bold and colorful tie. The second, a scrawny Skibidi, with disheveled dark hair and old scars running down his cheek. The pair huddled together, backs pressed against old brick and mortar. The Skibidi tried his best to ignore the pounding pain in the side of his head, as fresh blood ran down the side of his face and dripped below into his slightly cracked bowl. The Speakerman stood in front of him, attempting to put on a brave face. He couldn't do it very well, unfortunately. Who wouldn't, if practically their entire faction was staring them down?

Blocking the entrance to the alley was a large squadron of Alliance agents - cameras, speakers, TVs and all. Speakermen gave the defector betrayed looks of shame, and Cameramen stood at attention with their guns ready - a few of them were broadcasting, the Speakerman noticed. A few TV Men stood amongst them, their arms crossed and their screens displaying disapproving stares. Their lone large unit stood furthest back with with his sub-screens outstretched, shining blinding spotlights down on the little runaways.

Police sirens suddenly sounded off, and the toilet looked up to see the law enforcement of his kind hovering in the air overhead. Mutants and striders stood on the rooftops, glaring down at him with sharpened fangs and glowing eyes that pierced through the dark. This was it. It was over. They were surrounded on all sides. They well and truly had no chance of escape, they were completely and utterly trapped.

Standing defensively in front of the injured Skibidi, the Speakerman reached into his pocket and shakily pulled out a combat knife, rusted and chipped from months of under-use. Holding it in front of him so amateurishly made him look almost freshly built, like he had just begun basic training.

"P-please!" the Speakerman pleaded, his voice waivering with his confidence . "Don't... don't hurt us! D-don't hurt him!"

[scuttling-comfuddlement]

Welcome to my shop!

We have a lot of trinkets, tools, and pets! We can also have some things custom-made for you, if you'd like. Our door is always open, and we welcome anyone. Even if you don't buy anything.

The currency is coins, but we are willing to negotiate. We will often take items needed for crafting and such as payment.

Items:

We have cloaks of camouflage, which shift color to blend in to your surroundings.

We've got the lighthearted potions. A powder to make a person rhyme for a few hours, a candy that gives them a high voice for a day or two, and the kaleidoscope glasses cleaner. Makes em see everything like a kaleidoscope, obviously.

We've got the ones that alter emotions. Buy 2, get one free! Or you can mix and match to your heart's desire.

How about the soaps? One makes it so you never have to bathe again, it'll keep you clean. Another one makes mosquitoes terrified of you. Permanently.

Or there's the arm-band that gives you an outfit that morphs into whatever you deem fitting for the occasion.

As for the armband, I recommend wearing clothes underneath, just in case it malfunctions. Just leggings and a t-shirt. I've had angry customers wanting refunds and they were a pain in the knuckles.

Also, a pill that makes you not a loser. I take it daily. I don't think it's too effective.

There's the leaf crown that gives you the ability to photosynthesize... but your eyes will turn green while you're wearing it. Which isn't the worst of things. Green eyes are pretty.

There's a thermometer, it measures figurative warmth and cold.

We've got the magnet from the Shaggy Man in the Wizard of Oz. Makes people love you. Honestly, I think all the love potions are overrated.

We've also got bracelets with attachable charms including but not limited to: charisma, intelligence, stamina, strength, speed, stealth, wit, etc.

There is also a pocketknife that can never be lost, a notepad that takes notes for you, and a book that changes its story every time you finish it.

A pair of hair-pieces. You exchange it with a person, and it allows controlled, consensual telepathic communication. The simple ones are a button apeice. The multi-dimensional ones cost a seashell for a pair, but if you get the multiple dimension ones, I can offer you a discount.

We have nail polish that can turn your fingernails into claws that can cut through metal.

We've also got earrings that give you controlled selective hearing. And yes, we also carry the magnetic kind.

Pets:

Some new items!

Bags, that when you put something into it, it does not have any weight. Great for traveling.

Little metal beetles that can be programmed to detect almost anything you'd like; such as water, warmth, certain types of plants, or even tracking animals.

Mirrors that show not physical appearance, but personality.

Hourglasses that measure the time until your next sneeze.

Candles. You can put a memory you want to forget into them, and then when it burns out, the memory will be gone.

Fish eggs. They're for fish about the size of a minnow, but you can use them to relay messages. They whisper in your ear. And all of the species have a hive mind, so you could use them to spy.

Well, the fish, we've also got birds. The parakeets will pretty much do what you tell them to. They're smarter than most. We've got the axolotls, they basically just look cute and question everything you do. Our crabs are crabby, our frogs can make it rain, toads will selectively eat the bugs you don't like, and turtles are pretty wise. The squirrels are excellent trackers, and can find almost anything. But they'll never shut up.

We're not supposed to sell the hawks because they have an extremely keen sense of justice, and have injured their owners for being prejudiced or unjust. If I made an exception, you'd have to raise it from a fledgling, to raise it loyal to you.

We are currently working on getting larger animals. Ferrets coming soon!

You'd have to sigh a waiver for that though.

Some new pets!

Monkeys! They're pretty awesome. No magical abilities, but quite well behaved and very fun to spend time with. But they need a lot of enrichment.

Glow worms that can read books to you.

Caribou. Very friendly and great emotional support.

Hummingbirds. They bring better luck.

Sloths. They sleep so you don't have to. This is literal. If you let them sleep, you will not need sleep.

Employees:

If you're interested in buying something from my shop, feel welcome to come in! Speak to one of these people if you want to buy something, or have something custom made.

Firefly: Troubled past, silly, easy to please, cares deeply about people and is a fierce fighter. Gone most of the time on quests and such.

Ohtacaro: Quiet, smart, stereotypical ninja, has a cat named Randir. He and Otsi'stia have a sign language that they came up with for private conversations.

Otsi'stia: She is clever, practical, and the twin sister of Ohtacaro. She is less withdrawn than he is, but usually won't start a conversation for no reason. Hates small talk. Will get straight to the point.

Hotaru: Cheerful, hyper, enthusiastic. She's innocent and loves everyone. She just wants to help people. She is easily fascinated by little things. Especially koi fish.

Jon: Has a sense of humor, charming, and loves books. He is good at planning and dealing with people. He won't take abuse, and won't let you abuse his friends, either. He hates it when things get awkward.

Rena: A little bit bossy. She can be a grouch. You do NOT want to get on her bad side. But the number one way to get on her bad side is to be mean to Hotaru. She goes on runs to clear her head, and is currently taking anger management courses, because Jon and Lilian made her do it.

Lilian: The comforting, motherly one. She'll probably invite you in for a cup of tea, or babysit your pets or children or irresponsible friends. She wants you to be okay. She usually has calming music playing in the background, and she can be really poetic when she wants to be.

Soraya: The mechanic/scientist/inventor. Not a great fan of eye contact. Shy, as in, almost never speaks to anyone. Has her own space to work in, and stays there most of the time, but often goes to the library, or to the abandoned lot to test things out. She is extremely intelligent and a problem solver.

[killuwumi]

a blazing past - diluc (small angst blurb)

a/n: suddenly im a writer of blurbs...queen of blurbville...idk what has come over me. anyway more prompts from pinterest...

warnings: angsty, curse word, mentions of diluc’s past, (beating up fatui so maybe violence but only if you really, really squint. nothing graphic.) not proof read, all lowercase (lazy)

"we all fucking burn in the end."

his brow furrowed as you watched him, looking from a distance as he walked to the dragonspine camp of fatui..is this what he always did when he was angry? isn't that, a bit much? 

his figure got smaller and smaller as you waited by the campfire he had lit for you, right on the outskirts of the sheer cold. you have to wonder what made the man that you see ravaging a camp of strong fatui agents, screams and grunts can be heard even where you are sitting. 

bright red and orange streaks in the sky, a bright contrast to the otherwise hazy and white blanket that covers dragonspine. one last dawn breaks forth before everything stops. the noise, the colors, the thoughts in your head all come to a stand still. 

diluc is walking back, claymore dragging as he wipes it off in the snow, red follows in his path as he pushes his claymore into the soft dirt next to where you sit before sitting down and leaning against it. 

"who taught you that, diluc?" your voice is soft, a calm soothing sound, strangely unafraid of the man who sits next to you. 

"i learned how to fight in my youth, if that is what you are asking." he brushed some of his hair out of his face, as he pulls down his hair and it sits like red waves on his back. the hair tie in his mouth as he re adjusts his ponytail.

you watch him, your hands holding a stick and poking at the fire, it feels a lot like what you're doing right now..poking at a fire. "no, diluc. i mean who taught you to think like that?" 

his hands rested at his sides as he raised his eyebrow, a small look of shock on his face. he can't recall the last person that asked him such a bold question aside from kaeya. 

"i'm not sure, i must've picked it up along the way somewhere. perhaps coping with my past in the only way i know how." his voice is dull, no longer holding the anger from before, but he isn't sad either. he speaks like he is telling you about the weather, and it almost hurts you. to hear a man so revered in mondstadt talk about his past in a monotone, unwavering voice.

a silence falls between you, diluc only looking down at his hand as it rests on the ground beside him, near to yours.

"i apologize for speaking so boldly earlier." your voice waivers as you speak, giving away the guilt you are feeling. as diluc looks up from his hands and to your face, his deep red eyes meeting yours. "it should be me who apologizes, it appears i have worried you and put on quite an animalistic display today. i am deeply sorry." 

diluc watches your actions carefully as he apologizes, you grasp the dirt beneath your fingertips and your brows furrow, it looks almost like you're holding back tears. "please do not worry. i am fine." diluc tries to reassure you, softening his voice. 

you feel so stupid, you shouldn't be crying, why are you the one getting emotional. you weren't even supposed to come on this commission. 

"it is okay to worry people diluc.." is all you can muster to say before curling up into your knees, burying your face. diluc just watches and reassuringly hums an "i know." 

[saintrocklee]

🌸 flower shop AU part four 🌸

itachi x reader 🌸 masterlist

sasuke is somehow exactly what you pictured but not at all what you had in mind. he was, in some ways, a carbon copy of itachi. the short and to the point texts and emails you traded reminded you of his older brother, but there was a lack of humor in the dialogue. and now that he’s in front of you the resemblance is as plain as day, but there are obvious differences that you pick up on immediately.

unruly black hair matches equally unruly black eyes, the color identical to itachi’s. there’s a sort of defiance about him that has you fighting a smile as you let them in, welcoming both of the brothers warmly. itachi’s eye dance in recognition and sasuke makes a noise you assume is some sort of greeting. your station is already prepped and the shop is quiet and empty, save for the low sound of the radio and the three of you.

you’d offered to come in early for sasuke’s appointment, wanting to give him something special for his birthday. when you came up with the idea it had surprised you initially, along with the urgent need to leave a good impression.

you’d never done something like this before, not even for one of your original clients — but having them come in before you opened offered privacy, something you think they both appreciated. you play with the idea of introducing yourself formally to the younger man but after taking in his almost bored disposition you decide to skip the awkward formalities.

“alright sasuke, you’ll just need to sign this waiver.”

you slide the paper to him from behind the counter and watch as he plucks a pen from the holder on the desk, hunching his shoulders to initial and sign where needed. itachi stands behind, eyes averted to the many designs pinned to the wall next to him, hands in his pant pockets. you’re immediately drawn to the curve of his jaw and the way his mouth rests, stern and stoic. his upper lip curves over his lower lip, just so, and you wonder if he knows just how pretty he really is. men like him were either fully aware and used it to their advantage or remained comically oblivious, but you think itachi drifted somewhere in between. there was more to him than just being unfairly pretty and it made you want to pull at his proverbial thread — to see if he’d untangle for you or knot up before you could reach the end.

that thought alone both thrilled and terrified you.

when sasuke finishes you gesture toward the chair you had set up for him. he’d chosen a rather simple design and wanted it on the inside of his arm. you can see evidence of other tattoos, peeking out from under his sleeves on his shoulders, and fight back the urge to ask where he’d gotten them done. he’d mentioned having gone through the process of getting a tattoo before when you’d sent him your “welcome to the world of tattoos!” email you reserve for all of your clients who book with you for the first time. it was a step by step guide on what to expect when coming to the shop, the do’s and don’ts commonly associated with getting tattooed, and a couple of puns you and another artist came up with one night after staying late working on designs. it was meant to put your clients at ease and make them feel comfortable requesting whatever they needed, as well as prepare them for their visit.

it takes a couple of tries to position the outline how and where he wanted. sasuke is surprisingly talkative, letting you know that he wanted the whole thing a little bit bigger and a tad higher up on his forearm, and maybe a little to the left. you have him stand in front of the floor length mirror against the far wall of the shop and relax his arms, just to make sure it’s perfect. he nods his approval after the third attempt and you begin prepping the ink.

soon the buzzing of your tattoo gun fills the small shop and you’re hardly surprised when sasuke barely flinches at the pressure. it’s quiet, save for the radio and the sound of your machine, until sasuke breaks it with a question.

“how long have you been tattooing?”

it’s a question you get often and you don’t bother looking up to answer him, not wanting to loose focus.

“give or take ten years.”

sasuke says nothing in response but him breaking the silence first makes you bold.

“when did you get your first tattoo?”

there’s a snort from behind you and you’re glad you had turned to grab more ink. you’d completely forgotten about itachi, having drifted straight into work mode and tuning everything else out around you, and the sudden noise startled you. sasuke makes an indignant sound next to you.

“if my mom asks — two years ago.”

this pulls a chuckle out of you.

“got it. the next time her and i hang out i’ll be sure to corroborate your story.”

out of the corner of your eye you watch sasuke’s lips quirk. it feels like a victory and you answer with a smile of your own.

time passes by. sasuke continues his line of questioning and you continue to answer while ignoring the flutter of your pulse every time itachi snorts or hums behind you. he barely speaks otherwise and after you’ve wiped sasuke’s new tattoo clean and covered it in a clear wrap, you stand and remove your gloves. sasuke murmurs a curt thank you and ducks into the single stall bathroom tucked away in the corner. you watch him with a fond smile before turning to itachi.

“you think he likes it?”

itachi stands and pulls out a black leather wallet, thumbing through it before looking up at you.

“sasuke is not one to mince words. you would know if he didn’t.”

“an admirable quality.”

“sometimes.”

you laugh lightly and walk over to the point of sale station, itachi following closely behind. you ring up the price for the tattoo, add his discount, and flip the screen towards him. drumming your fingers against the desk while he inserts his card, you open your mouth before thinking better of it.

“do you have any tattoos?”

slender fingers pause before taking the card out of the machine.

“no.”

you hum and tilt your head. it somehow made sense that he didn’t. you couldn’t imagine how devastating he’d look with a half sleeve, or worse, a hand tattoo. there was something elegant about itachi, something poised and planned that made him untouchable. a blank canvas.

your fingers twitch at the thought.

“do you?” he inquires as he pockets his wallet. you nod, and watch as his eyes flicker over your bare arms. he wouldn’t find them so easily and you shrug, mouth quirking into a smile.

“they’re not typically visible, but i have them.”

bottomless black eyes meet yours as itachi pins you with a look. your pulse responds by nearly jumping out of your skin and the butterflies you’ve kept at bay are back in full force. he looks like he’s considering something and your body betrays you by slowly shutting down, nothing but the hammering of your heart in your ears.

you’re a bit breathless at the undivided attention. itachi seems content to stay as he is, and you’re scrambling for a way to gain some sort of composure. luckily, or maybe not, sasuke exits the bathroom and makes his way to the front. you break eye contact first and busy yourself with organizing the pens in their holder, praying that neither men can visibly see the way your chest was stuttering. itachi asks sasuke if he’s ready and sasuke makes a noise of confirmation. you meet sasuke’s eyes and nod, a smile crinkling your face when he nods back. itachi thanks you, to which you murmur a soft “you’re welcome,” and taps the desk as he leaves. taking a deep breath once you’re alone, you give yourself a moment to chuckle at your own awkwardness. the crush you had on itachi was supposed to be silly and kind of fun, but just now it felt heavy. serious.

it felt a little bit real.

in the midst of your self reflection you notice something poking out from under the point of sale machine and your mouth parts in surprise when you pull out a wad of cash. your mouth continues to widen in shock when you count it, realizing that itachi left it for you. in your hands was a twenty percent tip as well as the discounted difference you’d added to his bill. exasperated fondness hits you hard as a delighted laugh loosens from your chest. he’d pulled a fast one on you and you pocket the cash, already scheming to come up with a way to get back at him.

if anything, it gave you an excuse to continue with the game you two seemed to be playing. flowers, the drawing, a tattoo, now this. you know he more than likely didn’t mean to continue the little give and take between you, but you were more than happy to keep it going.

at the very least, you’d maybe make a friend.

[dinthoqaf]

( Story I posted for my guild some time ago. Wouldn't call it super recent, maybe about 6 months old by now. Hope y'all enjoy and apologies for any odd formatting, just copy/pasted it over from Google Docs. )

===================

A Trap Ensared

The castle roof of Caer Darrow explodes outwards and upwards as a singular person arches out through the debris towards the tiered courtyard below. A brightly armored thing decorated in colors of alabaster, crimson red, and polished gold with a near twinkling aura as it, meteored into the ground. The ground heaves, pushing upwards so cobblestone walkways separate before the exhale comes, causing the ground to sink once more. Paladins and Priests, men and women alike, whisper between one another in concern for whatever was going on.

The manor above them all, covered in a cloud of dust and dirt, becomes apparent as a silhouette with the sun to its back. A beautiful sight if that were all it was, but within something stirs great in its size as it was not simply a thing, but many things, moving quietly beyond what should have been comprehendible. It’s from this that Dinthoqaf comes from the smoke, theatric in his exposure at first, it’d look as if he were floating out towards them but that was far from the truth. Tendrils of Shadow, Flesh, Blood, and Void intermingle amongst the ruined walls and debris as they bring him forth from the confines of greater Scholomance.

A stirring occurs in the ranks below and a few of the younger Priests and Paladins, their faith not yet tested, waivers ever so slightly as they take a step backward and whispering begins to move amongst them. What had they gotten themselves into? He was only one man. He was only one man. They hadn’t listened or perhaps were so sure of themselves with their numbers and Faith that a man calling himself the Defiler was some overhyped cultist wanna-be.

What they got were spoon-fed lies in the hope numbers would prevail.

The ground heaved again as *something* below them stirred. A guttural groan rumbles up from the earth as a putrid grey arm lifts up into the air, bending at the elbow just to plant a huge hand onto the ground before another did much the same followed by several other smaller variants and not one seeming to match the other. It pushes hard against stone and soil and a nearby priest was the first to see his face. Sockets hollowed out, black oil like ichor dribbling from its dirty sockets, nostrils, and lips. In its effort to appear human, the uncanny valley effect would make hairs stand up on his neck looking at it. This… this was not human… was it? The answer comes quickly as the being pushes free, its mouth opening to an impossibly human degree only for it to keep going to reveal a massive monstrosity that looked to be a child’s drawing-made nightmare as it was a mix of muscles, limbs, and nearly all mouth when fully opened.

Dennis.

Hand crafted by The Sanctum’s followers with their sacrifice of time, effort, and one extremely stupid acolyte now turned horrific weapon.

A scream occurred as Dennis’s mouth opened, showing off curling appendages holding the priest within who was reaching out for someone, anyone, to help, just for them to see the poor man begin to get digested by the black, semi-clear saliva that was covering his body and dribbling from the sides of Dennis’s maw to the ground below. His jaws snap shut and for a moment, flesh can be seen bulging down from the soft tissue under his jawline before it goes still. Death.

”What the fuck is that?!”

A voice rings out amongst the shining mass of bodies. Faith wavers and one of them turns to run. Untested. If the situation wasn’t more dire Dinthoqaf would have been loving this, watching them break at the sight of a single death and creation that hadn’t truthfully been put to use yet. It was only a shift of the hand, a flick of the wrist as Din’s hand went horizontal in its gesture, and like a signal flare, Dennis stretched upwards in his massive capacity, head splitting just to emit something that could only be related to an alligator’s bellow. The air reverberates in a hateful fashion, causing people's breath to catch in their chests before Dennis begins to charge forward into the group of them. Armored bodies, clothed priests, staves and swords, shields too. Nothing was spared the rampage as the monstrosity began to swat, swing, and devour those unlucky enough to get caught in his assault.

He wasn’t alone though as the walls of Caer Darrow’s stonework began to crumble and fall apart. Tendrils and roots began to seep from her crevices, ensnaring those who pushed back to far to keep their distance from the grey flesh monster before them. Dinthoqaf had not come here unprepared. This was not the first time someone had attacked him or his Sanctum in this place and whether they all died here today or not, this would be the last time he’d make use of it. No trap, no snare, would go unused to make sure Ammaelin and his Allies paid for their flawed transgression.

Screams of anger, violence, and pain came from the courtyard as everyone fought to keep from being torn in half or even a few amongst one another as fear led to treachery in the face of potential death.

It was so different when someone thought victory was assured.

Guided down, Dinthoqaf stepped from his tendril hovering to the ground where Ammaelin had fallen. He'd wait, his brother looking about, screaming out orders in an effort to bring about an end to the chaos but that too stopped when Dinthoqaf came directly to stand before him. There was no talk, there was no need. Ammaelin or Dinthoqaf would walk away from this, but only one of them if he had anything to say about it. He charged; sword uplifted and at the ready as his assault against The Defiler truly began.

Brain versus Brain, Magic versus Might, the two men went at it with one another in an exchange of physical blows, magical outbursts, and tentacular arm-to-sword swaps with each taking their licks and hits. Sweat and blood ran from the bodies and faces of each, their hair disheveled and matted with blood, dirt, and sweat to boot. The paladins and priests in the courtyard were beginning to rally, what wasn’t being eaten or torn apart by the Manor's defenses or by Dennis himself. This place was meant to stand an assault, but it was also meant to have the Sanctum within its walls to help, not just The Defiler alone against a small army made specifically to counter him.

He knew a losing battle when he saw one and as much as it angered him, as much as it was tearing his ego apart, this was not a fight he intended on falling to. His attention and anger catch his attention enough that time seems to freeze as an ice-cold pain runs from his left shoulder to his neck and straight into his torso. His eyes shift as he pulls away and his right arm goes to his side.

Something was wrong.

He didn’t feel anything and that’s when he looked over. He felt nothing because there *was* nothing. His left arm missing and his tendrils moved to the socket of his shoulder where black blood poured out of him with the arm lying on the ground. It’d quickly rot and dissolve, seeping into the ground now that it was off of him, but this didn’t stop Dinthoqaf from yelling out in pain. This shocked pain was not just from the fact Ammaelin had severed his arm, an elf who was looking mighty proud about said fact now, but from the fact, this put him well out of the range of being able to continue this fight now.

“XIODELOW EJATHUNG!!!”

The Island heaved in distress as the bowels of Scholomance came alive. Black dust and mist came bellowing out from her core and into the air, sweeping over the entirety of the place obscuring view from everyone and everything that wasn’t an arm’s length away. A Swarm host, similar to the Silithid or Qiraji bugs, these small insects began to devour and eat flesh the moment they came into contact only to begin swelling as part of their magical nature quickly. Blood, it was all it’d take before they swelled and began to explode violently, sending men and women flying into one another with missing body parts.

It was all Ammaelin could do to keep a barrier of Light about himself as he tried to push through to Dinthoqaf, to end this before the barrier fell and he’d become nothing more than food for the Swarm. The air crackled as bug after bug hit the Light Barrier around the island, exploding violently just to send ripples across its surface.

Another crack, another series of splinters, and then the loud shatter occurred, breaking it entirely before the swarm itself began to either scatter across the landscape to escape as well or before it started to fall to the ground dead. It was not intended to last long but as the bugs fell and the last tentacles were dealt with or went inert, one thing was apparent.

Dinthoqaf was gone and with him the massive multi-limbed monstrosity he had called.

“Light be damned!” Ammaelin screams out in anger. “I’ll find you, you bastard! I’m coming for you and your Sanctum!” He’d skewer his sword into the ground, cursing as he’d spit blood to the ground. His trap had worked, but not to the degree he’d hoped. Dinthoqaf was wounded and now that he was gone, he knew he was mobilizing against him…