#him and his inability to be normal is so charming to me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starlightandfairies · 7 months ago

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Ok ok I really love you! That's the last request hahaha I don't wanna annoy you ❤️ I had this somehow cute idea where you've fallen in love with him but he doesn't know and one time you get a little drunk with the girls, later deciding to grab a taxi to the Mikaelson house. Klaus is the one letting you in but Elijah already felt your presence and tries to keep you safe around Klaus, or as you start playing with their swords and stuff. Klaus watches with amusement at his brother taking care of a human girl and makes a comment like "better keep her before I do", and that wakes something in Elijah that he takes you to his room, just to keep you safe. You end up cuddled on top of him, admitting your love to him before falling asleep. He also realizes that he has feelings for you, but he decides to tell you properly in the morning when you wake up 😊😙

Description: A drunken reader leads to playful chaos between the Mikaelson brothers and feelings being revealed.

Warnings: she/her pronouns, drunkness, fluff, swearing

*Requests are open, please send through as many requests as you want, check my character list and requesting rules.*

Thank you so again for requesting! No! You're not annoying me! I'm really enjoying getting requests so don't feel bad! I hope you also enjoy this one!

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view

Word Count: 1,156

First Person's POV

Girls' night out was amazing, I haven't had a night like this in ages, away from all the drama and finally able to just relax with the girls and just be us. I knew I was getting tipsy, I could feel my giggles becoming more and more prominent than normal. The girls were going home, so I decided to head towards the Mikaelson house, I stood on the street hailing a taxi and stumbled into the vehicle once it arrived. I asked to be taken to the address, the walk to the porch of the Mikaelson resident seemed like an incredible challenge, I'm sure that to an outsider I just looked like a fawn learning to walk but I felt as if I was climbing Mount Everest.

I giggled to myself as I fell against the door, I sucked in a breath, trying to pull myself together as I knocked waiting for someone to answer. I was surprised when it was Niklaus, I waved almost childishly, smiling brightly at the Hybrid who clearly seemed amused by my current state.

In all honesty, I have no clue how I ended up sword-fighting with Niklaus, however, somehow this is where we ended up. Sword fighting in the parlour. I highly recommend it, however, do take care. I grinned brightly seeing Elijah walking forward with his usual look of concern plastered on his face, however, once he was at my side he smiled.

"Good evening, Y/n, I didn't realise you'd be joining us."

"Spur of the moment type thing." I turned my attention back to Niklaus, continuing our little sword fight, I jumped as Elijah used his speed to appear in front of me, I grinned excitedly but quickly pouted as he took the sword off of me.

"How about instead you sit with me, and tell me all about your night?" The pout faded away, I nodded in agreement, sitting on the sofa with him and instantly began rambling on about every little detail that went on tonight. I'm sure I shared details I wouldn't typically share in normal conversation, my filter was non-existent and oh, how I know that if I could watch myself right I would wish for it badly.

"Am I okay to take my shoes off?" I questioned glancing down to the hells that were now becoming painful and unwanted. Elijah nodded, though, after watching my struggle he lightly took my hands and proceeded to continue to charm me with his gorgeous smile that drew me in the first time I saw him.

"May I help you?" I nodded, frustrated with my inability to undo the damn straps on my shoes, Elijah kindly took my shoes off for me and rested them to the side. The vampire stared at me for a good minute, assessing my needs and whatever else that was needed to be assessed.

"I'll be right back, I'll get you some water." I threw my arms around him, giggling happily, thanking him and plopped back into the couch. I waited patiently for both vampires to return, I fiddled with my hands, staring at everything in the room and running my finger over my lips making odd sounds just for the sake of it.

Elijah's POV

I began pouring some water, and getting some things prepared for Y/n knowing that in the morning the hangover would come, I wanted her to be okay and wanted her to be safe. So I was quite glad that Niklaus chose to follow instead of causing more havoc with Y/n.

"You know, brother, you better sweep her up before I do." His smirk and words struck a chord. He knew of my feelings, Niklaus knew that I would do anything for her and knew that he would follow through on his words. I made my way back to the living room, stopping in my tracks seeing her laying upside down on the couch, he head on the floor and her legs dangling over the backrest of the sofa.

I bit back the smile dying to show, I sat beside her, smiling as she waved happily and awkwardly twisted and turned trying to get back into an upright position. I took her hands, smiling as she rested her head on my shoulder and that gorgeous smile just permanetly stuck on her lips.

"Come with me, will you, please?" Y/n nodded, taking my hand and following me to my room. I handed her the glass of water, watching as she plopped onto my bed finishing the glass of water within a gulp and began curling up underneath the blankets.

'Would you lay with me, please? I couldn't refuse, I nodded and kicked off my shoes and rested besides her. I wrapped my arms around her as she began to lay upon me, her eyes were fluttering open and shut her words escaping in a mumble.

"I love you, Elijah. I really love you. Like a lot. Super a lot." Before I could even deny anything, I could feel her swiftly fall asleep, I didn't want to disturb her, I didn't want this moment to end. I knew that in this moment I wanted to confess my feelings for her, so I thought it would be best to do so in the morning.

First Person's POV

As the light shined into the room, I knew my headache would be a bitch to deal with, I pushed myself up into a sitting positon in the boat. I stretched briefly, jumping slightly to see Elijah walking into the room with a glass of water and a packet of painkillers.

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you." I whispered, sipping the water and taling the painkillers. Elijah sat on the bed besides me, I rested my head on his shoulder and began sharing my apology.

"I'm so sorry, was I a complete mess?"

"No, not at all."

"You're a liar." I whispered.

"You were just really giggly and silly. You told me you loved me- I don't know how much of that was true..."

"That was true, I meant that." I confirmed, seeing there was no point in denying the fact that I loved him. Elijah sat in silence for a good moment, I could feeel my heart halt for a second fearing that his reaction cold be poor and that he would react in a way that ruin our friendship.

"I love you too." He whispered, his eyes focused on me, I glanced to him surprised and shocked about the outcome of the confession. I smiled pushing myself up and grabbed ahold of his face. Looking to see if the noble vampire was lying to me, he grabbed my hands, his look gentle and comforting. I knew just then that it wasn't a lie and that this was all true.

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frankingsteinery · 29 days ago

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victor is one of the most psychotic characters i have ever read in literature and it all feels both surprisingly accurate and relatable given the time period; i have been meaning to make a proper analysis on victor's psychotic symptoms for awhile now, but have, ironically, been delayed due to my own psychotic symptoms, so here's more of an informal list--

i'll be breaking down victor's: 1. negative symptoms (loss of functioning)

2. positive symptoms (hallucinations)

3. disorganized thinking and speech/behavior

victor's psychotic symptoms, as well as his initial psychotic break during the creation of the OG creature, are brought upon by the stressors of creating the creature(s), both before, during and after the creation process. the first of these symptoms were negative symptoms.

negative symptoms of psychosis are a loss (thus--"negative") or reduction of normal functioning, and can include restricted emotional expression, lack of speech or monotone speech, difficulty thinking, reduced motivation and/or desire to initiate activities, reduced socialization and social withdrawal, and an inability or decreased ability to experience pleasure. they most commonly occur in the prodromal (initial) phase before the acute phase (characterized by hallucinations, delusions, and confused thinking) and in the recovery phase, which is true of victor's case.

andehonia (lack of pleasure):

"...but I did not watch the blossom or the expanding leaves—sights which before always yielded me supreme delight, so deeply was I engrossed in my occupation... But my enthusiasm was checked by my anxiety... I became nervous to a most painful degree" (paranoia, too) -- Vol I, Chapter III

"It was a most beautiful season; never did the fields bestow a more plentiful harvest, or the vines yield a more luxuriant vintage: but my eyes were insensible to the charms of nature" -- Vol I, Chapter III (1818)

"By very slow degrees, and with frequent relapses, that alarmed and grieved my friend, I recovered. I remember the first time I became capable of observing outward objects with any kind of pleasure..." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

asociality (social withdrawal) & alogia (impoverished speech):

"And the same feelings which made me neglect the scenes around me caused me also to forget those friends who were so many miles absent, and whom I had not seen for so long a time. I knew my silence disquieted them..." Vol I, Chapter III (1818)

"Study had before secluded me from the intercourse of my fellow-creatures, and rendered me unsocial..." -- Vol I, Chapter V (1818)

"This state of mind preyed upon my health, which had entirely recovered from the first shock it had sustained. I shunned the face of man; all sound of joy or complacency was torture to me; solitude was my only consolation—deep, dark, death-like solitude." -- Vol II, Chapter I (1818)

additionally, and in general, victor becomes incapable of initiating activities (avolition) while being cared for by henry at ingolstadt.

victor hallucinates several times throughout the novel. these hallucinations are almost exclusively visual, and primarily of the creature:

“'Do not ask me,” cried I, putting my hands before my eyes, for I thought I saw the dreaded spectre glide into the room; “he can tell.—Oh, save me! save me!” I imagined that the monster seized me; I struggled furiously, and fell down in a fit." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"The form of the monster on whom I had bestowed existence was for ever before my eyes, and I raved incessantly concerning him..." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"I saw around me nothing but a dense and frightful darkness, penetrated by no light but the glimmer of two eyes that glared upon me. Sometimes they were the expressive eyes of Henry, languishing in death, the dark orbs nearly covered by the lids, and the long black lashes that fringed them; sometimes it was the watery clouded eyes of the monster, as I first saw them in my chamber at Ingolstadt..." -- Vol II, Chapter IV (1818)

"All pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that thought only had to me the reality of life. Can you wonder, that sometimes a kind of insanity possessed me, or that I saw continually about me a multitude of filthy animals inflicting on me incessant torture, that often extorted screams and bitter groans?" -- Vol II, Chapter IX (1818)

"Sometimes I entreated my attendants to assist me in the destruction of the fiend by whom I was tormented; and, at others, I felt the fingers of the monster already grasping my neck, and screamed aloud with agony and terror." -- Vol III, Chapter IV (1818)

beyond that, victor's positive symptoms also include delusions of guilt, grandeur and persecution. however, this is complex enough that it warrants its own separate post. for another time... (edit: find it here)

victor also experiences disorganized behavior, behaviors that are inconsistent, contradictory, or don't fit the situation; for victor, the most obvious of which is catatonia, a symptom of psychosis characterized by abnormal movements, behaviors, and withdrawal. he demonstrates both akinetic (staying still, appearing unresponsive, staring blankly, lack of speech) and excited/hyperkinetic (moving in a pointless/repetitive way, appearing agitated or delirious, pacing, etc) catatonia.

"Unable to endure the aspect of the being I had created, I rushed out of the room, and continued a long time traversing my bed-chamber, unable to compose my mind to sleep...I took refuge in the court-yard belonging to the house which I inhabited; where I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life." -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

"...my spirits became unequal; I grew restless and nervous. Every moment I feared to meet my persecutor. Sometimes I sat with my eyes fixed on the ground, fearing to raise them lest they should encounter the object which I so much dreaded to behold." -- Vol II, Chapter II (1818)

"Then the appearance of death was distant, although the wish was ever present to my thoughts; and I often sat for hours motionless and speechless, wishing for some mighty revolution that might bury me and my destroyer in its ruins." -- Chapter 21 (1831)

he also displays inappropriate/unusual reactions, another example of disorganized behavior:

"I was unable to contain myself. It was not joy only that possessed me; I felt my flesh tingle with excess of sensitiveness, and my pulse beat rapidly. I was unable to remain for a single instant in the same place; I jumped over the chairs, clapped my hands, and laughed aloud... my loud, unrestrained, heartless laughter, frightened and astonished [Clerval]" -- Vol I, Chapter IV (1818)

victor shows disorganized speech through his "ravings" several times and there's quite a few examples of this but i can't be bothered to pull more quotes. here's just one:

"A fever succeeded this. I lay for two months on the point of death: my ravings, as I afterwards heard, were frightful; I called myself the murderer of William, of Justine, and of Clerval." -- Vol III, Chapter IV (1818)

as a side-note, in the 1800s, the term "fever" was used loosely in comparison to its modern definition, and the health of the mind and body was often viewed as interconnected--thus victor's "fevers" after periods of high stress that triggered psychosis—while being nursed back to health by henry, during his time in prison, etc.—could easily be viewed as mental illness rather than an actual physical sickness, or some combination thereof.

lastly, victor experiences disorganized thinking, which includes racing thoughts, flight of ideas, confusion, trouble keeping track of thoughts, difficulty concentrating, time processing disturbances, etc.

in general, victor experiences dream-like perceptions that leads to difficulty being present, concentrating, and processing reality, what he himself refers to as “strange thoughts” (Vol II, Chapter IX, 1818). for example:

“All pleasures of earth and sky passed before me like a dream, and that thought only had to me the reality of life.” – Vol II, Chapter IX (1818)

additionally, victor is known to lose time and “awaken to understanding” weeks or months later several times:

“What then became of me? I know not; I lost sensation, and chains and darkness were the only objects that pressed upon me…by degrees I gained a clear conception of my miseries and situation, and was then released from my prison. For they had called me mad; and during many months, as I understood, a solitary cell had been my habitation.” – Vol II, Chapter VI (1818)

“But I was doomed to live; and, in two months, found myself as awaking from a dream, in a prison…It was morning, I remember, when I thus awoke to understanding: I had forgotten the particulars of what had happened, and only felt as if some great misfortune had suddenly overwhelmed me.” — Vol II, Chapter IV (1818)

“I seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit. It was indeed but a passing trance, that only made me feel with renewed acuteness so soon as, the unnatural stimulus ceasing to operate, I had returned to my old habits.” — Vol I, Chapter III

he also demonstrates flight of ideas, a thought disorder that involves rapid shifting of thoughts that are expressed in language. people with flight of ideas may speak quickly and jump between ideas that are not connected in a way that is difficult to follow, illogical, or nonsensical. this occurs just before alphonse visits him in prison:

“I know not by what chain of thought the idea presented itself, but it instantly darted into my mind that the murderer had come to mock at my misery, and taunt me with the death of Clerval, as a new incitement for me to comply with his hellish desires… “Oh! take him away! I cannot see him; for God’s sake, do not let him enter!’” — Vol III, Chapter IV

to which mr. kirwin “regards [victor] with a troubled countenance” in response.

aaand that's a wrap.

there's no real point to all this i just wanted to outline most of his symptoms so i could have it all in one place. i'll probably expand on this sometime with more actual thoughts and ideas of substance as well as building on the implications of a reading of frankenstein where victor experiences psychosis (and how actually acknowledging victor's mental illness forces a much more sympathetic interpretation of victor... which is why people tend to talk around it). do with this what you will!

#rob.txt #frankenstein #victor frankenstein #gothic lit #tw psychosis #analysis #this doesnt touch on all i wnated to #and its nowhere near the depth i wanted it to be. just shallow ramblings #but god ive already been at it for 3 hours #good enough. for now.

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ohtobeleah · 2 years ago

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Strictly Scandalous…

You first meet Hangman when he accidentally spills his drink on you at the Hard Deck turning your pretty white dress see through. Conscious of eyes on your chest he offers up his shirt to you and begins trying to learn more about you. Reader, turned on by his protective nature and sexy physical appearance, takes him outside with the intent of showing him how much she appreciated his kind gesture and charming personality only to end up receiving the best sex of her life…and possibly a date.

Listen this concept gave me literal life. I did however make a slight change and instead of sex, we went with the reader give Hangman head because that’s what my brain went to. ✌️

Warnings: This is strictly scandalous, smut ahead.

“I really am so unbelievably sorry—“ Jakes leaning over the booth to get closer to you on his elbows, his T-shirt slung over your now very see-through dress. “I just didn’t for the life of me see you standing there.”

“It’s alright, really.” You mule as you take a sip of the Canadian Club Jake had brought you as a sorry for spilling not one, not two, but three draft beers all over your pretty little ensemble. “Besides, the view ain’t that bad from where I’m sitting, so I guess you can say we’re even Stevens.”

Jake had ripped his own shirt off without a second thought, covering your exposed chest to the prying eyes of bar patrons who watched the dirty blonde, usually stable aviator stumble into you haphazardly as he momentarily lost his footing on the way over to the pool table.

It left him exposed from the waist up, which he’d normally be okay with. But Penny had a strict no nips policy and Jake hated the fact Bradley Bradshaw's Hawaiian throw over had now become his saving grace. He’d never live it down, the shirt or the fact he’d dragged you down in the depths of embarrassment with him. Jake Seresin was on a roll tonight, clearly.

“If it’s Hawaiian shirts you’re into you should be talking to Rooster—“ Jake mumbles under his breath as he watches you from across the booth twirl the little plastic straw around the vessel holding your drink of choice.

“It's not the shirt.” You simply shake your head. “And I don't do mustaches.”

“What is it that you do then?” Jake feels himself gaining some confidence back, he’s sending you one of his signature smirks and he knows just by the way you finish your drink and lean into the booth a little more to close the gap as much as you can that lingers between the two of you.

“Dirty blondes who spill beer on unassuming contacts.”

It's that comment that led you to know, with the copious amounts of alcohol flooding your systems and inability to think all that rationally, not that you didn't want to be grown on your knees in the carpark of the Hard deck. Not that you didn't want Jake's hands wrapped in your hair, helping to guide you up and down his length.

It's just that an all important question had been missed in the meet and greet part of your x-raked rendezvous. Why was Jake at a naval bar in the first place? And he certainly hadn't asked you that question either. But, it was far too late to ask now, consequences be damned you thought.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck–” Like a mantra, Jakes looking up into the heavens above as he bucks his hisp against your face, his cock disapearing and re-appearing moments after having being shoved down your warm tight throat. “Yess–ah fuck!” You've got his shirt on the ground, stopping the rocks from digging into your knees too deep as you work to work him over.

It's damn near organsmic to hear Jake, the man who'd spilt three drinks on you earlier, moan the way he was. Needy, lustful, one hand twisted in your hair while the other cups your cheek. Guiding you as you take every inch he's willing to give you. You hadnt gone into this thinking youd end up sucking Jake off, but fuck it had been one of your better ideas of the night so far.

“Fuugghh–!” Jakes flushed a red hume, it had started to creep its way up his neck from below the hawaiian button up, flushing his cheeks a pretty pink as his breathing laboured and got a little heavier with every passing second he relished in. “Feels so fucking good.”

If Jake had known that all it would take to get such a pretty girl like you down on your knees before him, sucking him senseless in the car park of the Hard Deck, was to spill a few amber beverages across your chest he would have tapped the whole damn keg months ago.

“Mmmhmm–” You simply aren't shy, moaning around Jake's cock as you look up through watery eyelashes to see him looking down at you with an open slack jaw. He has his back pressed against the side of his black F-150 and his jeans pulled down just past his hips, down enough that you could reach in and free him from the confines of his boxer briefs when you had pushed him up against the truck initially to make out.

It had been a feverish, intense hook-up. So feverish and needy that when your hand grazed against Jake's clothed cock he was already hard and standing to attention, hoping that the situation unfolding would lead to something more.

“Ah fuck, darlin, if you don’t sucking me off like that I’m gonna cum down that pretty little throat of yours.” Jakes close, he can feel his orgasm pooling at the base of his shaft. He can feel the all to familiar sensation of his balls tightening, his heart rate spiking, the need to just fuck deep into your throat overwhelming him as he let out groans and frustrated sighs, because he keeps forgetting how to fuckign breathe.

Popping your lips, you pull back and take Jake's sloppy length in your hand, pumping him as you chuckle and smile up at him.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing?” Jakes taking that as the go ahead to rail your throat. Waiting till your lips are once again wrapped around his tip before he's taking over the pace, groaning as your nose hits his manscaped pubic hair. Holding you down as he twitches and leans over you.

“OOhhhhhh fucking christ–” Tapping at his thigh, Jakes pulls your head back just to watch the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you gasp for air, only to do the same thing over and over again because it feels far too good to stop now when hes so close to cumming down your windpipe. “Baby, ahh Fuck I’m there, I’m there ohhhhh ffuugghhh–”

It's an overwhelming sensation, to have Jake buried at the hilt down your throat as he's withering away above you. His vision blurred for a minute as he felt himself releasing into your warm, tight throat. The mixture of saliva and opake cum dripping down your tongue before you swallow. Neat and tidy. “Ahhhh oh my god–”

Despite his inhibitions, Jake Seresin is a southern gentleman at heart. So when he comes down from the high you gave him, he's unlocking his truck, pulling you into it and down onto his lap. Kissing you just to taste himself on your tongue as he cups your cheeks, hot to the touch.

There's no secret just by looks alone that you are by far much younger than Jake. He knows it's not a question you ask a lady either, so he goes about it rather strategically while he's sucking against the pulse point of your neck as you grind yourself down into his lap.

“What do you do, pretty girl?” Jake's mumbling. “You know, when you aren't riding thighs in the backs of Ford trucks in car parks of bars?” And it's your answer that has Jake's voice hitching in the back of his throat. He's just gotten a new gig, as had most of the daggers–they were instructors, TopGun instructors. The newest class were starting Monday…..

“Im a naval aviator–” You moaned, pulling back just so you could rip your dress up over your head, exposing yourself to the drunk in trouble man under you. “Start at Miramar on Monday, Lieutenant Y/n Mitchell at your service.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman Seresin

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Strictly Scandalous Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

#ohtobeleah 3k celebration #strictly scandalous jake ‘hangman’ seresin #jake seresin x f!reader #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake hangman x reader

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writeslikeanaria · 1 year ago

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what a conscience can do

sebastian sallow x reader (requested by @sugarbubbleslove)

summary: your friend is taken by poachers and you aren’t too happy about it

word count: 1.6k+

warnings: mild descriptions of torture, dialogue that could be perceived as misogynistic, some suggestiveness at the end, angst, little bit of fluff

Poachers camps were the worst. You knew for a fact that the worst enemy was no magical creature, but a vicious man with no conscience. Evil eyed men with a hunger for power and a nature for abuse.

You had a conscience though. Unfortunately so, with your inability to back down from any fight, and your moral compass that always seemed to point you into the direction of trouble. You couldn’t help but stumble into poachers camp after poachers camp, incinerating everything to ashes, leaving nothing but the empty cries of mercy and bruised egos.

So, here you were again, pulled to the outer edges of a nearby forest, hidden amongst the overgrown flora, disillusionment charm shielding you from view. The moonlight high in the sky casted whimsical shadows, mixing with the gruel light of the poacher’s fire. There was an unsettling hum across the camp, joined with the rustling of the nearby wildlife—the wildlife they were here to capture.

There was something different about tonight. Instead of crouching in the mud alone, you were joined by your best friend, Sebastian, who had insisted on tailing tonight. At first, you were more hesitant than ever to let him join, unsure if you could safely protect him from the danger’s of the angered men waiting behind the fences, but eventually you gave in to his begging, unable to say no when he asked so nicely.

“You have to be quiet, alright? For some reason, they’re always listening out, so keep the noise down while I petrify the ones close by.” You whispered your instructions to Sebastian, who nodded excitedly.

“What can I do?” Sebastian all but beamed at you.

You sighed. “Stay out of sight until I give you the all clear, and then you can help me destroy some cages, okay?”

Defeated, Sebastian backed away from the fences, while you headed forward into the deepness of the camps, head down, concealed in the dark of the night. It wasn’t long before you had found the first two poachers, uttering a simple incantation under your breath, and watching their immobile bodies fall to the ground.

Dragging the bodies away from the eyeliner of other poachers, you looked back out into the camp, disgruntled to find a mass gathering of men surrounding a tent at the back. This would lead to a more difficult attack on the camp. Cursing under your breath, you moved to a different angle, trying to figure out a way to ambush the camp and gain back an advantage.

It wasn’t until you reached higher ground when you realised that what the poachers were gathered around was actually a hostage. Gasping under your breath, you leaned forward, attempting to get a better look at whoever was down there, tied up in intricate knots, muffled at the mouth by a dirty, linen rag.

You needed help from Sebastian, and quickly. Crawling in the darkness of the night, you whispered out to Sebastian, searching for him amongst the trees, but was unable to find the ruffles of brunet locks against the greenery. Anxious, you bit your lip, leaning up against a nearby log, as your brain ticked over to what this means.

With your proficiency for the disillusionment charm, you crept as close to the crowded tent as possible, without being caught, hoping that your worst fears weren’t reality, but it was unfortunately not the case. Sebastian, perched up against a tree stump, looked positively terrified, eyes ablaze with worry. With the firelight reflecting on his irises, you could almost see the moistness of tears, threatening to spill over onto his cheek. Your normally cool, calm, and collected friend was the most frightened you’d ever seen, and you couldn’t help but feel your heartstrings tug in pain.

Then you realised that the beasts of the men were actually talking, and talking about you nonetheless. “Reckon that nosy lass will face us now? Coward, I say, can’t even take us on all together. This will draw her out of her hiding, and then she’ll see just what we do to people who get in our way.”

Your mouth dropped at their words, and stayed agape as you watched what those horrible poachers were doing. They didn’t even have a wand in hand, but a sharp carving knife, scraping at the side of Sebastian’s face, teasing his skin, drawing red marks across his cheeks. Below, on his neck, small nicks and cuts had already been made, dribbles of blood trickling and pooling at his collarbone.

As well as an array of lacerations, Sebastian also seemed to be littered with red marks, slowly fading into purple bruises, painting his skin a deep violet. His hair was messed up, sweat and blood caking in his hairline. Shirt torn, his chest was exposed, revealing the tufts of chest hair, mixed with dirt, mud, and other various earthy elements.

Anger boiled inside of you as you were forced to listen to your friend cry and moan, pain taking over his body. The torture that he was enduring was your fault, and none of your friends deserved to be encapsulated by pain, just because of your actions. A healthy dose of revenge needed to be dealt out.

It started with a basic cast, hitting just over the trees, a warning shot, some may say. Then, clouds, out of nowhere, crowding the top of the camp, it’s moisture enough to put the fire out. The men faltered, but it wasn’t enough, not yet.

You see, if these poachers had to guts to not only torture the poor animals of the land, but your friend too, then you were allowed to torture them back. You could already see how their hands became shaky, their voices creeping out of their lower octaves.

Then, to make Sebastian proud, confringo, fire all around the edges of the camp, blazing into the sky, heat from the flames fluttering underneath your shirt, and leaving sweat in its trail. Now you could step out of the shadows.

You cocked your head, charm falling from your body. “Hand him over.” Your voice was gruff and demanding.

“How dare you think you can just command us? You brat, I’ll show you.” One of the poachers stepped forward, wand in hand, casting a harmful spell your way. Luckily, you were able to dodge it, moving behind a gathering of boxes. Unfortunately, that moved you opposite of Sebastian, who now sat exposed to the world. You hissed as a poacher approached him, knife at his throat menacingly.

The poacher smirked. “Make one more move and pretty boy gets cut.”

You stilled, unsure of your next move, until the electricity in your veins began rumbling. You couldn’t tell if it was your ancient magic drumming upside inside of you, or whether it was your conscience urging you to do something, but there was nothing left to say as you let loose of your power.

From the very tips of your fingers, bolts of ancient magic went firing into the chests of every poacher, announcing every one of those ghastly men unconscious. Their cries of pain were a symphony to your ears as the only thing you worried about was still shaking like a baby lamb, tied to a tree stump.

Your legs moved before you could even register what was happening. As soon as Sebastian was in your vicinity, your arms wrapped around him, and your head nuzzled into the crook of his neck. Sobs released from your throat, as the adrenaline from everything dissipated and left nothing but the fear of losing someone close to you washed over.

You placed a long kiss at Sebastian's temple. “I was so scared. I’m so sorry. I should never have left you alone.”

Somehow, Sebastian responded, but his voice was muffled jargon against his muzzle, which you quickly removed, allowing fresh air to reach his lungs. It was audibly how his greedy throat gulped in oxygen. You let out another sob.

“Are you okay? Tell me what hurts.” You coddled over your friend, as you untied his limbs. A pained expression reached your face as your busied body reached around him, searching his skin for any signs of pain. Unfortunately, you found more nicks and marks than before.

Still, Sebastian wasn’t making any more noises other than his incoherent hums, so you allowed him to drape his arms over your shoulders, and helped him out of the camp. When you reached a safe distance away, you laid him down in a field of grass and daisies, ripping the coat of your body, and covering him in his makeshift blanket.

The shock was still washing over him, so you curled up next to his shaking body, embracing him in a tight hug. You knew the lines between your platonic friendship was blurring, but you couldn’t help it. You needed to be as close to him as possible.

Eventually, you calmed down a bit more, your conscience settling in your head, and you got to the point where you could comfortably cast a healing spell without the anxiety of messing it up clouding your vision. Sitting the dozing Sebastian upwards, you started muttering spells under your breath, watching as the small cuts slowly dispersed into the plains of his skin.

Sebastian began mumbling. “Mmfph–”

You cocked an eyebrow, incredulous. “Are you doing okay, love?”

“Hot.”

Oh right. You thought, peeling the coat off of his body, but was stopped by Sebastian’s own hands, pressed over yours. His skin was icy.

“No.” He mumbled. “That was hot. You were hot.”

Your eyes widened as you watched the bold Sebastian place his hands on your thighs, rubbing them gently underneath his calloused hand. Eyes wide, you watched as his hands traveled upwards, journeying towards your womanhood, but you stopped him, aware of his own eyes that were slowly dropping off into oblivion.

“Let’s talk tomorrow.” You whispered against his hair, as Sebastian fell deep into a slumber.

It’s what a conscience can do.

——

might start a tag list. comment under this post or send me an ask and i’ll add you to my taglist for future fics :)

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow smut #hogwarts legacy #fanfic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you

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ashyyslashy · 2 years ago

Text

Call Me: Renfield x GN!Reader

You work at a hotline for people suffering with codependence. You find yourself attracted to an odd guy who frequents the line, and one night, you both let down your guards.

word count: 2,039

warnings: sexual content (orgasm denial, phone sex, praise kink, m! masturbation), language

tags: @kpopgirlbtssvt @karmakaoskk-blog @wrldsapart

You were deeply intrigued the first time you heard his voice. Unmistakably kind yet nervous. Soft, subdued, as if he was making himself smaller even over the phone. You surmised that he was used to being unseen, to shrinking away from others' gaze.

He introduced himself as Robert Montague Renfield, in a British accent permeating with gentle formality. He was instinctively charming, yet there was a certain sorrow you caught lurking in his voice.

He was tight-lipped about his codependent situation for the first few calls, only telling you vague details about his boss' narcissism. Whenever you brought up the subject of what exactly he did for work, however, he was decidedly evasive in his responses. The most you could glean was that he was some sort of assistant, but you couldn't say what for.

You could say that his life revolved around his job. Every time he called you - after the first time you talked he'd always ask to speak to you whenever he called the hotline - he seemed fearful he could be pulled away at any moment. Guilty about taking time to himself.

You tried not to pressure him, allowed him time to become more comfortable. After several calls, he was still secretive about his work, but he slowly started confiding in you. He struggled to develop his own identity under the shadow of his boss. He felt deeply alone, unable to connect with others. He often felt controlled by feelings of hatred and discontent towards himself.

When your shift ended one night, you acted on impulse - you gave him your personal number, telling him to call you any time. You wouldn't normally do something that forward, but you were drawn to him. Your conversations at work never felt long enough. He was hesitant at first, anxious about taking up your free time. But you assured him it was what you wanted.

The two of you exchanged photos, and your attraction multiplied. The selfies he had sent you were hilariously awkward, the angle unflattering and the lighting reminding you of the harsh fluorescents of a hospital room.

But you didn't care. Despite his inability to work a cell phone camera, he was otherworldly. Piercing blue eyes, dark hair against pale skin; exactly how you'd imagine the love interest in a gothic novel. Something inside you craved him with a fervor that you believed had been long dulled by monotony and routine.

This night, you'd brought up the topic of romance. You couldn't let the curiosity eat away at you any longer of whether or not you had any chance with him. He had laughed nervously, before telling you he hadn't pursued someone in years. You knew you shouldn't, but you pressed the subject.

"Well, any short-term relationships, flings?"

"No, no one."

"Not even a one-night stand?" You paused. "I'm not passing any judgement, by the way. Romance in the 21st-century is so shitty, if you can even call it that sometimes."

He laughed again, the uncomfortable edge in his voice increasing.

"Yeah, it's.. strange. But to answer your question, no. Um, I haven't done anything like that in a while."

"I mean, I think hook-up culture is kind of fucked. You're better off."

"No, I didn't mean it like that. Uh, I haven't done anything sexual."

You hesitated. "Like.. ever?"

"No, no, no, I've done it. Just not for a long time. I- I kind of have a mental block."

"What do you mean?"

"You know how I said it kind of feels like my boss is always in my head?"

"Yeah, I remember. Do you want to talk about it more now?"

"No, no, I just don't know how to explain what I'm trying to say. I feel like.. I can't do anything.. like that. Like, uh, sexual. Even if it's just alone. I don't know. I feel like he's there watching me or something, and then that kind of just makes me want to.. you know, stop."

You took a beat, processing his words.

"Are you referring to, uh, pleasuring yourself?"

He swallowed audibly. "Yeah. Sorry, that was.. I shouldn't have brought that up."

"No, that's okay. If this unhealthy relationship with your boss is an issue that's affecting your sense of privacy, and interrupting personal rituals such as, um, masturbation, I think we need to discuss it."

This conversation had certainly not gone where you expected it to, but you attempted to remain somewhat professional as you felt the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Your work is only part of you," you steamrolled on, taking advantage of his embarrassed silence. "We've talked about this - how it, how he, doesn't define your entire identity. This is an example of something in your life that has been deterred by your codependence: your inability to fulfill your own sexual needs."

"Oh. I didn't even think of it that way, but you're completely right. Shit."

"I usually am."

"So, uh, what do you think I should do about it?" he said.

You were completely unable to read his tone. He sounded so utterly earnest despite the fact that he was asking you how he should comfortably fulfill his sexual needs. You decided to test the waters.

"Um, where are you right now?"

"I'm in the apartment I rent. I was scared my boss would overhear our calls if I stayed there."

Your eyebrows shot up involuntarily. "...So you went and rented an apartment?"

"Uh, he has a lot of money."

"Yeah, I guess he does." You cleared your throat. You were trying desperately not to lose your nerve. "You're alone, right?"

"Yes."

"And you trust me?"

"Of course I do."

"I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to only say yes if it's what you want. Okay?"

Fuck, you were really doing this.

"Okay," he replied.

"Um, well... How would you feel if you.. did it? On call with me? I could guide you, make sure you feel comfortable." You held your breath as you heard only silence from the other end.

"Er.. do what, exactly?"

"Um. Touch.. yourself. Shit. I'm sorry. I realize I should not be asking this-"

"Yes. I want to," he cut you off, his words so rapid they blurred together.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. I really like you. And like I said, I trust you. I'm also, uh, very, very attracted to you."

"I feel the same about you," you said softly.

"Tell me what to do," he responded breathlessly. You could hear him shifting around on the other end of the line.

"I've never done this, before, uh.. are you hard?" You cringed. "I really hated how that sounded. Fuck."

He laughed, quiet and musical. "Yes. I was almost as soon as you brought this up."

"Okay, we should probably, um, establish some ground rules. If you want to tap out, just tell me you're done. We can never speak of it again. And tell me if anything I tell you to do makes you uncomfortable. But, uh, there is one thing I want to do, if you're okay with everything else."

"Yes?"

"I want to be the one who controls when you cum."

"I'm at your service," he breathed.

Your heart skipped a beat. "Don't make me sound like your boss."

"I'm not gonna be hard for much longer now that you brought him up."

"Shit. I'm really bad at this, Renfield," you laughed.

"No, no. Just give me your instructions, please."

It was hard to ignore your own arousal pooling in your stomach, the wetness that was rubbing against you when you moved. "Okay. Uh, remove your clothes."

You heard shuffling for a minute as he complied. "Done."

You braced yourself for the next sentence. "Alright. I want you to start stroking yourself, gently."

"Am I allowed to use some kind of lubricant?" he asked.

You tried to stifle a laugh. "Yes, whatever works. You don't have to ask permission for that."

You heard squelching sounds on the other line, and then the unmistakable sound of him slowly stroking his cock.

"Hey, uh, I have something to ask you," he said softly, stopping.

"What is it?"

"Could you, um.. praise me? You know, tell me I'm doing a good job, and everything? Comfort me, I guess." His voice swelled with hope and maybe something like shame.

You hated that he probably never heard anything like this, that he was looked down upon and berated daily. You desired so strongly to be there with him, to show him how perfect he was with your touch and not simply your words.

"Yeah, of course." You waited a moment until you heard him resume.

"You're so eager to please me, huh? I bet you look so fucking hot right now, stroking yourself to the sound of my voice. You're so good for me, aren't you?" you drawled.

"Yes," he murmured. "I think I should let you pick up the pace, since you're doing so well. What do you think?"

"Yes, please."

"Okay. Faster."

You heard him comply on the other line, the sounds of slapping against skin increasing in intensity and his stifled groans amplified.

"Do you have a TV?"

"What? Oh- u-uh, yeah."

"Stop for a moment. Turn it on and turn up the volume loud enough that anyone walking by can hear."

"Al-alright."

You waited.

"Okay, I did. Can I keep going now, please?"

"Yes, but I don't want you to muffle yourself. I want you to be loud for me. I wanna hear you."

"O- okay." He allowed the moans and grunts to leave his mouth freely, the droning of some news program playing in the background.

"Shit, you sound so beautiful. Don't stop, okay?"

"Mhm," he murmured through the noises of pleasure. You shut your eyes and allowed his exclamations to fill your ears.

"I-I'm close. Can I cum?" His voice was pleading, desperate.

"Not yet. Keep going. Just a little longer, okay, keep being good. You can do that, right? And then I'll let you cum."

"Y-yes," he sputtered, a hungry edge in his voice.

"So fucking good for me. Do you wish it was me getting you off instead of your hand?"

"Yes, s-so badly," he forced out through sighs of pleasure. "I think about you all the time. I-I'm so glad I met you. I didn't think you'd- like me too."

"Of course I do. How could I not?" you whispered affectionately.

He hummed in appreciation. "Fuck, you're so gorgeous."

He grew louder, his noises more strained. You continued your soft words of encouragement, turned on by the effect they had on him.

"Can I cum now? P-please?" He begged.

"Do you think you deserve it?"

"Y-yes, I think so. But only if you do too."

"Okay. I think you do. Cum for me."

He let out a loud moan, pumping in rapid succession until he slowed and stopped, breathing heavy. The two of you sat in silence for a few seconds as he came down from his high, his panting slowing.

"You did so well, Robert. It felt good, didn't it?" you prompted.

"So good. And you- you were perfect."

"I wish I could see you right now."

"I want to see you too. I don't want this to only happen once. I loved it, doing this for you. Thank you." His voice was full of adoration.

"It was for yourself, too. But I can't pretend I wouldn't enjoy if you thought about me every time you jerked off."

"Who else would I want to think about? It's you, always."

You flushed, smiling at his words. You wanted to talk longer, but there was an urgent problem that you didn't think you could delay any further. "Hey, I'm really glad we did this. Are you good for the night? Do you need me to stay on the line while you clean yourself up?"

"No, it's alright. We'll talk soon, beautiful. I appreciate you so much. Good night."

"Good night, Robert. Sleep well."

You hung up the phone, finally free to attend to your own situation. You laid back on your bed with your hand working its way beneath your unzipped pants, Renfield's noises of pleasure playing over again in your head.

author's note: renfield is so baby girl <3 and thank you for the continued support my #1 fan (you know who you are)

#renfield movie #renfield 2023 #renfield x reader #nicholas hoult #rm renfield #renfield smut #renfield x reader smut #smut

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kekaki-cupcakes · 6 months ago

Note

Hey !

Hope ure doing good

I like AU and I wondered if u could please do a leo valdez x reader fic

Like...They live in the same apartment at the same floor and they see each other frequently in the corridors, and with the time they create an affinity

I have emerged from my cave. hello world. <3.

Leo Valdez x Reader--- Mortal/Apartment AU

»»————-　★　————-««

“...Hi?” You said, hitching your tote bag, the Kiki’s delivery service-patterned one, back onto your shoulder. It always fell down when you were walking down the front steps, past the skinny stray cat who slept underneath the mailboxes. Everyone in the building had named her Stick Insect.

It was in a loving way. You hoped.

Leo made an odd wheezing sound that sounded a lot like a beached whale taking its last breath as he dragged one of those old-fashioned red waggons behind him. He wiped his hands on his green army jacket, the one with all the jangly badges you could hear coming from a mile off.

Your favourite was the Minecraft TNT one, underneath the trans flag pin, and one that just simply said ‘BBS’. You didn’t quite know what that meant.

He grinned at you brightly, despite his shaky arms, and lugged the wagon of cardboard boxes and what seemed to be an entire chunk of golden sheet metal along the pavement.

»»————-　★　————-««

“Hi,” you said, holding the door open a second longer than necessary so that Leo could lug his giant cardboard box through. You still hadn’t figured out what he kept in all those boxes and bags.

“Hey!” he said, and bumped straight into a doorway with a red face. Then he scurried up the stairs and left you in the liminal space that was the empty apartment complex hallway after ten p.m.

You stood there for a moment, and then realised you were still smiling.

»»————-　★　————-««

Shit. Shit.

You were running so late. I mean, technically, it wasn’t your fault you were going to miss the start of your favourite classes ever. Your alarm clock, one of those old-fashioned red ones [it was also missing one of the bubble things on top and only rang on one side until it vibrated itself off your bedside table], hadn’t gone off in time this morning and began ringing loudly at nine thirty instead of seven thirty.

You tossed your apple core into the little waste paper basket by the big hallway windows, and searched your pockets for your keys. Shit.

“Hey,” Leo said, from where he was unlocking his door. He was room 7. He also had massive bags under his eyes, you noticed. You also noticed that his eyes were the prettiest glowing brown when the morning sun shone through the windows.

You blinked, forgetting why your hands were in your pockets. You probably looked like an idiot. “Uh, hi.”

He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Sorry… if your power went out at some point last night…? That might’ve been me.”

“Can you, like, control electricity or something?” You asked with a laugh.

This was the first time you’d exchanged more than a few words since you’d asked for his name when you watched a very loud girl dressed solely in Olivia Rodrigo merch yell at a confused white guy to ‘pivot’, as he carried a complicated looking egg chair up the stairs.

Leo shook his head. “Nah, I wish. ‘Was just... working on a project... And I may have blown up my power sockets. And the street lamp.”

“What are you building in there?” You asked, “A moving castle?”

»»————-　★　————-««

Your friend burped in your ear—in quite a disgusting way, may you add—and stumbled forward, arm slung over your shoulders. You roll your eyes at their inability to walk like a normal person after only three shots and pull your phone out of your pocket. After a few tries at putting your password in, 1989, you manage to unlock it. You’ve got charms hanging off the clear case—little soot sprites that swirl in your vision as you blink forcefully.

The Uber’s on the street now, so you heaved your door shut behind you, room 4, and began to trudge down the staircase. There’s a new scorch mark on the third from the bottom step, and you picture a dragon stomping up after his 9-5.

You tried to hold in a laugh, only to fail. Your friend giggled loudly, the laughter contagious, and faceplanted.

“Fuck, dude,” you heard, and then turned to see Leo standing by his door, three raspberry slushies in his arms. It was the first time he hadn’t been lugging canvas bags or wooden crates in a while.

He nodded. “Metal.”

“Shut up!” you chuckle, wiping your brow. You reach down and pick up your friends floppy arms as they begin to snooze diagonally. The taste of vodka and pineapples rose in your throat. “Come on, get up!”

Leo peeked over the stair bannister.

Nosy little bugger. Cute, nosy little bugger, you corrected yourself. Then you frowned, watching him blink owlishly and blush from the roots. You didn’t say that out loud, right?

“Uh, yes,” Leo squeaked, “you did.”

»»————-　★　————-««

You carried the coffee cups as you walked up the stairs, eyes on your phone while you texted your friend to stop watching reruns of Brooklyn Nine Nine and get onto the word doc.

The group project was due tonight, and the lazy bugger was stress-obsessing over Gina Lenetti, the human form of the one hundred emoji.

You slid your phone into the back pocket of your jeans, soot sprites catching on the denim, and fished out your keys once you reached your door. Another one banged shut further down the hall. You stuck your keys into the lock. “Hi.”

“Hey!” Leo panted, still in his pyjamas, and raced out of the building.

You rolled your eyes and grinned.

»»————-　★　————-««

“You’re gonna have to tell me what you’re doing with all of this junk,” you said cheerfully, moving your eyes in sync with the black and white cat clock hanging on the wall.

You turned away when you got dizzy, taking in the piles of things balanced precariously around you like a steampunk library. Vintage machines like typewriters, telephones with the spinning number circles, and record players—the ones that have that big tuba shape sticking out the top—.

Drills and hammers were scattered on the layers of cute little rugs, posters from animes you hadn’t seen yet stuck to the walls, and a lot of Polaroid pictures. You picked one up.

The two people you’d seen helping Leo move in a few months ago were grinning at the camera with Mickey Mouse hats on.

“It’s not junk!” Leo looked up from the pile of jackets—black and white chequered ones, a giant purple hoodie, and one with flames up the sleeves—that he was hastily shoving off a mustard-coloured armchair.

“Sorry,” you apologised with a laugh. “You’ll have to tell me what you’re doing with all those bits and bobs.”

He ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. “Okay, okay, but you can’t dob me into the landlord.”

“I would never,” you said, completely serious. Leo stared at you for a moment, his eyes all weird-looking. They made your chest feel like Ponyo, floating around and grinning.

Then he looked away nervously. You smile and look away too. Leo’s kitchen, in the same spot as yours, with the same apartment layout, could not look any more different from yours.

There were coloured magnets moved into swear words on the fridge and golden, oily instant coffee machines in parts on the bench.

Your kitchen had jam jars of little flowers and chocolate-covered almonds scattered around the collection of salt and pepper shakers you’d inherited from some badass old aunt. You had matching sets of penguins, mushrooms, and creepy baby dolls, all filled with salt and pepper.

“Sure…” Leo shoved some empty take-out boxes into his bin.

He looked at you with a wide smirk. He led you through to what you’d made into a spare room for your friends, and opened the door triumphantly. “Come on through... to Leo Land!”

You stepped around the door, even though you could’ve looked through the wide hole in it if you really wanted to. A hulking metal form was hanging from a wooden stand in the centre of the room, with wires and coils hanging out of it.

More collections of scrap metal folded up into shapes that could be claws or grabber machines, maybe, were sitting on benches between spray cans of gold paint.

Welding material, or at least that’s what they looked like, took up a corner, sparks flying.

You narrowed your eyes at Leo, finally realising why he had so many tears in his cargo pants and paper clips in his jacket sleeves. “Leo…”

“Yah?”

“Are you perhaps building a bomb?”

“No!” Leo scoffed, literally hugging a giant metal boot to his chest like it was his baby. Except the boot had green eyes. “This is Festus!”

“A foetus?” you asked, wondering how deranged this pretty boy was, despite his cool old-fashioned toys, big jackets, and need for multiple slushies at a time. “Are you feeling okay?”

Leo rolled his brown eyes at you. “Festus is a dragon! Well, he's not a dragon yet; he’s just a torso, a half-done head, and a bunch of feet. He’s got nine feet right now, cause I haven’t been able to replicate a working one more than once.”

“You’re building a giant metal dragon in your spare room?”

“Well, it sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

“You’re so cool.”

»»————-　★　————-««

“Hey querida,” Leo said, kissing you on the cheek before you grabbed your mail from the boxes outside the building, waved to Stick Insect the skinny cat, and ran to your car.

Stupid broken alarm clock.

“...Heyyy.”

»»————-　★　————-««

“Mi amor!”

You turned around on the couch, putting down your takeout box of noodles [from the good place near the park where the old dude who plays chess against anyone who walks past lives]. “Yah?”

Leo came trudging into the lounge, slash kitchen, with your bright red alarm clock in his arms, all parts attached. “Fixed!”

He plopped down on the couch next to you, squashing the lion squishmellow that had been ripped open in the back, and showed you the now shiny metal and matching bits on the top, with that stupid little grin of his.

You kissed the top of his nose and took the clock from his greasy, scarred [incredibly nice-looking] hands. “Thank you.”

The TV crackled in front of you both, balancing on the stack of old record players Leo was repairing for the second-hand store full of goths and old ladies down the street. You put the little alarm clock down near your feet and pulled out the strawberry-patterned blanket Piper’s girlfriend crocheted you both for Christmas.

Leo leant over and curled his arm around your waist, laying half across you like a cat in the sun. You sat up a little, as he fiddled with the remote he’d added far too many buttons to for no reason at all. "Here, stick insect, kitty! Stick insect, here, kitty!”

Little padding sounds came from the hallway, and then the chubby, spotted cat launched herself over the back of the couch and onto Leo’s shoulder.

He shreiked and headbutted you as Stick Insect hopped over and sat between you both, plopped down in loaf position, fluffy feet hidden. Leo sniffed haughtily and sank into the hug you gave him. Stick Insect began chewing on the necklace around your neck, the blue teardrop one Leo had made you a while ago. You kissed his forehead, stroking the cat's soft forehead gently.

He turned the TV on, looking up at you with sparkling eyes. “Howl, or Kiki?”

»»————-　★　————-««

I HAVE A PJO EVENT GOING ON RIGHT PLEASE GO INTERACT YOU CAN REQUEST ANYTHING JUST CHECK THE POST <3 <3

#pjo fandom #Leo valdez x reader #Leo valdez x you #leovaldez #leo valdez fanfic #Leo valdez pjo #pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #percy jackon and the olympians #leo valdez #leo valdez x y/n #hoo

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agoodroughandtumble · 5 months ago

Text

Vienna - Sanji x Reader

Status: Part 1 of 2 [Part 2 is Zoro x Reader] Summary: Inspired by the Ultravox song - Reader is going through a break up. Sanji offers some words of comfort Warning: 18+, Language, angst

It had been fairly obvious that your last romantic relationship had not exactly a hit with the rest of the crew. Thankfully, for Sanji at least, your now ex had never been offered a place amongst the crew so any interaction was few and far between. Still, when Nami had told him why you had been a bit distant the past few days he couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Even though your choice in men was questionable at times, downright awful at worse, there was nothing he liked seeing less than you being upset – especially over some arsehole that had never been worthy of your attention in the first place. Not that Sanji cared about who you were dating – at least, no more than was a normal amount for a crew mate. And it was purely coincidental that he had spent all morning making your favourite dessert and then the next half hour trying to find you – annoyingly, he found you back where he had started in the kitchen.

“Cheer up, love.”

You lifted your head up from the table, quickly wiping your eyes at the sound of Sanji’s voice and eyeing him a little suspiciously as he walked over to you – a tray full of your favourite cakes in one hand.

The cook gracefully set the plate down in front of you and slid onto the bench. “It is positively criminal for someone as beautiful as you so look so sad.

You rolled your eyes, though despite your best efforts you could feel a small smile tugging at your lips. Still, no one walks in on someone sat with their forehead against a table and assumed what they want is chit-chat. “What are you after?”

His eyebrows creased in confusion, a look of hurt across his face and one hand clutching at his chest. “(Y/N)! Is that how lowly you think of me?” He tilted his head suddenly, a thought occurring to him. “Although… perhaps a kiss from lips as sweet as yours could soften the blow a little…?”

“Sanji-”

“Alright,” the blond pushed the plate of dessert further towards you as a peace offering. “Nami told me what happened.”

“Great. That’s just… fucking great.” You sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall and trying to retain some of your dignity. Being dumped was bad enough, embarrassing enough without the entire crew gossiping about you love life. “Look, I don’t want any of this,” you gestured towards both the food and the cook. “I want to wallow for a while. Contemplate my complete inability to be loved.”

A silence fell over you for a moment or two. Sanji had an unreadable expression on his face, although at present you couldn’t bring yourself to wonder what he was thinking. Obviously he wasn’t taking the hint as he shuffled further into him – so much so that you could smell his cologne mingled with smoke. It wasn’t the worst scent in the world, comforting, almost. You could feel your eyes starting to water again, and took a deep inhale to try and steady yourself.

Crying at all was bad enough – crying in front of a crew mate was unacceptable. Especially since Nami was apparently far more loose lipped than you had previously thought. The idea of everyone else knowing, of them fucking pitying you was almost as bad as having your heart ripped out in the first place.

“You don’t have an inability to be loved.”

It was the softness of his voice that caught your attention. Sanji was never soft. He was charming, and a flirt and usually more often than not a complete pervert but he was never soft. You shuffled uncomfortably under such an earnest gaze, biting your lip as though such an action could prevent the inevitable tears from spilling. “Well, he certainly doesn’t. Not any more.” You sniffed a little. This was pathetic. You were pathetic. No wonder he’d finally decided to get rid of you.

“I do. I mean, we all do. The crew. We love you.” Sanji inwardly cringed. Of all the times he could have accidentally blurted that out, of all the ways he could have told you, whilst you were trying not to cry over some completely arsehole was certainly not one of them. Hopefully you didn’t think anything of it – and he could simply explain it away as a way of cheering you up – reassuring you that the crew would always have your back. Hopefully you wouldn’t think anything more of it and he could go back to loving you from a distance, the periphery.

He cleared his throat, trying keep such thoughts at bay. You were upset, you were crying over another man for fuck’s sake. There was so many ways in which this situation could go horribly wrong. He started to stand up, “I should go. You can’t wallow with company.” He tried sound light-hearted, obviously he failed as your face dropped further.

You caught him off guard, almost instinctively clutching onto his sleeve. “Wait – I…” you trailed off, struggling to work out exactly what you were trying to say. “Can we… can you…”

He sat back down, watching you curiously. If he didn’t know any better he would think there was a look of pleading in your eyes. This was the first time he had had a chance to properly take you in, his heart sank at the redness of your eyes, delicately framed by bleeding mascara and your chapped lips – no doubt from chewing on them in an attempt to fight back any more tears. “Can I what, love?”

“Can you just. Just stay? For a little bit?” You let go of his sleeve and started fidgeting with your nails instead, eyes downcast. “If you want.”

Sanji’s heart shouldn’t swell at the thought of you wanting him, needing him. And he wasn’t so delusional to think you would be asking anything different if it was Luffy, or, God forbid, Zoro that had been the one to walk into the kitchen. But right now, right there, it was him that you wanted – and how could he possibly refuse?

He could pretend it was just because it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and yes, of course he would do the same for Nami but his breath wouldn’t hitch the way it did if she leant in against him. His heart wouldn’t be racing at a thousand miles an hour if Nami was wrapping an arm around his waist, using him to anchor herself and finally allowing herself to be vulnerable. Against all of his wishes, this would always just be for you. He kissed your forehead – he could have that one little indulgence. “Of course I will, darling. Whatever you want.”

#this is my first time properly writing sanji so please be nice :P #as always self indulgent fic whilst getting drunk and listening to synth #opla #one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n

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capnsaveahoe · 5 months ago

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KLAUS & HIS FAKE REDEMPTION 🤡

So, I’m finally towards the end of TO and I really don’t get why everyone is so surprised that Klaus is out here committing murder. Like, that’s who he is? Wdym? Let’s be real: Klaus made subtle changes throughout TO, but he never truly transformed. His so-called “growth” was always conditional—do something good, get a pat on the back, keep being good. But the moment he felt ignored, he went straight back to his murderous tendencies. 🐶🔪 So, it’s funny to me that people say Elijah/Camille/Hayley/Hope changed him, when in fact they never did. They tried like a motherfucker, but it never went 100%. They always had to hold his hand and tell him what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. They were glorified babysitters, and nothing else. 🙄

** Even my girl Caroline was unsurprised when she tracks him down. She knew that was just Klaus being Klaus.

His actions brought so much fuckery to everyone around him, making it damn near impossible for them to ever have normal lives. Redemption arc my ass 🤡 His “ultimate sacrifice” was a dramatic, self-aware, and selfish move to “protect” his kid from his violent legacy. He never changed and he knew it too. He was aware that his homicidal impulses would never go away and would always haunt his daughter. Which was later confirmed in Legacies where she was constantly criticized by everyone for who her father was. 💀

**Here’s this little gem. Alaric was a dick 😒

Honestly, Klaus didn’t need to change—they should have just left him alone, and he would have been better for it. They literally cornered him and tried to make him into this lovesick puppy, but we all know that Klaus is far from that. His way of loving is a whole chaotic mess—intense, possessive, and downright destructive. He’s fiercely protective of his family and those he cares about, going to insane lengths to keep them safe. But let’s be honest, his love is toxic AF and manipulative; he keeps people close by using fear/control. 🙄 His love is all about brutal honesty and raw emotion, but it often ends up tearing apart the people he’s trying to protect. Sure, he has his moments of genuine charm and affection, but his inability to trust or shake off his violent nature causes destruction for those around him. That’s what makes Klaus such an iconic and tragic character—he tries to be good, but at his core, he knows he’s not. In the end his love is a double-edged sword that’s as captivating as it is damaging. 🫠

#klaus mikaelson #the vampire diaries #the originals #elijah mikaelson #hope mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #freya mikaelson #finn mikaelson #mikaelson family #caroline forbes #alaric saltzman #niklaus mikaelson

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fraugwinska · 5 months ago

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Chapter 17 - Moxie

Moxie (noun) 1. a courageous spirit and determination/perseverance 2. vigor / verve / pep. 3. an outstanding skill; know-how

Tags & Warnings: None The song mentioned ist "Perhaps" by Oscar D'León, if you want to listen along to it!

“My feathery fellow, are you quite sure that you don't want to find something more entertaining to do?”

He gripped his cane, tightly, restraining himself from whipping it over the birds head. The boy, Dante, had followed him everywhere like a lost puppy, chatting away and talking his ears off the whole morning. A lastor had always hated dogs. Charlie had, to his great misfortune, whipped his dear assistant away - again – for dealing with whatever trifle with the upcoming event that needed her utmost assistance, and stuck him with the delightful task of dealing with the newest addition to the hotel.

What unnerved him the most was the demons inability to recognize his blatant dislike for him. Sure, as usual Alastor weaved his snark remarks and snide comments into a overly cordial demeanor, but really - one should have assumed the threatening glares or the rising intensity of his aggravated static would constitute as obvious warning signs, making the bird realize his intentions weren't warm and welcoming. But this dunce, seemingly blind to all those very clear anti-social clues, only smiled through it all, ignoring every jab he aimed, and Alastor wished he could strangle some sense of self-preservation into him.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't go over well with the girls - Charlie and Vaggie grew quickly attached to Dante - not to forget about his kitten, who would doubtlessly at least frown upon her best friends second demise. In conclusion: Murder was forbidden. And therefore, so was strangling. For now.

Alastor's ears twitched involuntarily at the mental image of her expression of disappointment. He was so engrossed in trying to tune out the idiot that talked his ears off, his memory reminded him, rather intrusively, how beautiful he thought her lips were when she bit them in anger, and how she did it - oh so, temptingly - in situations he wished to be alone with her. And her body. Oh, this soft and enticingly supple body, flushing in the most charming hues of pink when she became flustered, angered, annoyed, aroused. How warm had it felt under him, so willing to react to his touch, welcoming him with a feverish yearning that lit his mind ablaze... His well-concealed tail started wagging, bordering on making noise, and he willed himself back to calmness.

Lately, his mind often wandered off like this, Alastor noted. Since their night in his bayou he felt... restless, in a sense that he craved to be close to her again. It was odd, for him - normally he would have taken the chance to enjoy some distance, his own personal space being a very important part of him. Especially after the revelation that his – let's call it: small fit - had been proven to have been slightly unnecessary. Yet, he started to feel uneasy and annoyed when she wasn't by his side, feelings that only intensified the longer they were separated.

"Oh no, Mr. Alastor, I don't mind helping you!" The demon pulled him harshly back into the here and now, his cheerfulness unceasing and infuriating. He clenched his fists, ready to kill, but he only took in a long, calming breath.

"And what a tremendous help you are.", he smiled at Dante, with such fake courtesy, that someone less dull should've felt the underlined message - but no. This moron went on, babbling his head off, asking questions he answered shortly, or commented on every little thing - making it ever so difficult to focus on actual matters of business, like the rebuilding of the collapsed west wing he was currently working on. While he observed his created minions removing rubble and debris, the nightingale just looked at this painting or that bust, completely useless.

"...and munchkin offered to help me, without her, I would've never made it through the dancing finals."

Wait, what did he say? Alastor looked over to him, raising an eyebrow.

"Pardon?"

Dante, standing in front of a bust of the goetian duchess Gremory, turned and smiled at him. "Oh, we had a contemporary dance workshop, the final grade was a big performance in front of an audience." He laughed softly, fondness in his eyes. "I have two left feet, and was sure I'd fail the class. But (Y/n) is a beast on the dance floor, and she offered to be my partner, helped me practice after school and all."

"I see.", Alastor replied, keeping his eyes on his work. So, his little kitten could dance, hm?

"She taught me a lot, actually.", the bird continued, and the deer didn't miss the fondness in his tone. "About dance and music, but also about life, what it means to have a real friend..." The demon stilled for a moment. "She always seemed sad, even when she was putting up a cheerful face. Like she was searching for something, and didn't find what she was looking for. But here, I mean... when she's with you, she seems... different. Really happy."

Alastor turned to look at him, and found a knowing smile looking up in... was that admiration? Maybe this little sinner wasn't as daft as he thought he was. The birds feathers ruffled a bit nervously under his stare, probably a subconscious reflex, and he spoke again, in an earnest, earnest voice.

"I'm, just saying... she, well, she deserves to be happy, truly happy, so... Whatever you're doing, or saying, or giving to her, Mr. Alastor, keep doing that, please."

Alastor stopped for a moment, eyes slightly wider than usual. Then, his mouth opened in a short laugh, eyes closing in amused astonishment.

"Is this... meant to be some kind of approval, dear boy, by any chance?"

Dante hesitated for a short moment. "Um, in a way, I guess."

He contemplated a few seconds longer, tilting his head with an indulgent smile. The simpleton had no idea what he had done in the bayou. Still, there was this irritating genuineness to his tone, an earnest request from someone who cared deeply for his gem, and for a moment, his honest efforts and dedication showed through the cracks of Alastor's deep dislike of him.

"I will take your word for it then, featherling."

The bird nodded slowly and smiled in the direction of a painting, as if it was an indication of what his mind dwelled on.

You went over the third list Charlie handed you with a deep sigh. You barely finished your breakfast when she and Vaggie took you with them into the office, to “get your input about a few things”. 'A few things', as you quickly learned, had been elaborate (and mostly impossible) plans for decorations, dinner menues, guest lists and other things Charlie was too indecisive about to decide on her own. Normally you wouldn't have minded helping her, working alongside Vaggie to tune down Charlies enthusiastic endeavors and manage logistics around the event, but the thought of Dante alone with Alastor for a prolonged amount of time like 'all morning' made you worried, unfocused and frankly – impatient.

“So, you see, Al will provide the music, aside from our program, but I don't know how formal we should be...”, Charlie rattled, shuffling through countless papers. “We are sending invites to practically every name in hell, wealthy sinners, overlords, even some of the goetian royalties, and dad will come – I think, maybe – so, maybe we need to plan for that. But I don't know what they'll expect, we don't know that.” She looked stressed and worried, which would normally be compensated by Vaggie. But she too looked tired and unsure, scratching her arms every now and again, with a lost look on her face. You put the paper aside and took Charlie's shoulders. She shut up instantly and gave you an apologetic smile.

“Breathe, both of you. We're going to figure it out, I promise.”

"Thank you for all your help.”, Vaggie suddenly said, looking away as if she was embarrassed. “I... we have never planned something big like this before, and without you... well, we probably would've given up by now, if it wasn't for you. I know I gave you a hard time, but... yeah. Thanks.”

It was the first genuine praise you heard her giving you and you felt not only surprise, but content. Slowly but surely, the mistrust and defensiveness of her towards you had changed, and although you felt a bit guilty about not being honest to them, you still genuinely wanted to be seen as an ally, not an enemy.

"I'm glad to be of help, really. Now, come on, let's tackle this. Charlie, I'm sure you, as princess of hell, know something about the in's and out's of formal events down here.", you said encouragingly, sensing Vaggie's discomfort at this admission of emotional vulnerability and deciding not to drag it out. Charlie sniffled tears away, but smiled nonetheless.

"Okay, yes, let's tackle this.", she took a deep breath. "Well, let me think... When I was a teen, mom and dad often held big concerts or balls, maybe.... maybe we could have Al's band play some songs to dance to? Formal and classy in the beginning, and maybe something more modern for the informal part, like an after party?"

You folded your arms and gave her a nod. "There's the royal intuition, princess." The corners of your lips twitched. "But maybe don't count on Alastor for modern songs. I am sure Angel can happily provide us with a DJ or a good - halfway modest - playlist at least."

Charlie giggled, the excitement back in her eyes. Her girlfriend however, looked not as convinced.

"That's a good idea and all, hon',", she hesitantly said, "but I don't think the others know how to dance, except for maybe Husk and the radio idiot. I sure can't."

"Oh yeah, you're right..." Charlie's mood seemed to dampen for just a moment, until she locked eyes with you. Her eyes widened into big, round, sparkling orbs.

Oh for fucks sake.

"I wonder if we could find a trained dancer among the hotel staff who would be willing to help us out?", she chirped with pleading, sweet-looking eyes and an innocent, beaming smile. “Pleeeeeease?”

„Alright guys,“, you sighed as you put your hair into a ponytail. Charlie, in her untameable enthusiasm, had rounded everyone up in the foyer for their first 'totally spontaneous and super-fun dance lesson/bonding activity'.

In the short time it took her to find, instruct and bribe everyone to participate, you - in wise foresight - had run back to your room and changed into more comfortable clothes, discarding the belt entirely, exchanged your blouse for a flowy boat-neckline lounge shirt and threw on your black leather heels. It kind of excited you to dance, really dance, again - it was what you had become the best at at the Academy, this particular talent landing you most of the meager few roles after graduation.

But looking at the rag-tag-group before you, your ardor quickly receded. Husk was looking doubtful and annoyed, Angel distracted and with much too much silliness and mischief in his demeanor, Vaggie looked nervous and tense while Dante was Dante, you knew him well enough to know that even through he didn't lack eagerness he was a left-footed disaster waiting to happen. And Niffy... well, you doubted she was there to learn to dance at all, manically polishing the floor underneath her as the group waited to begin.

Your gaze fell to Alastor, who watched you with amused pity. His grin was much too smug as he sat a bit aside in one of the armchairs, his midday cup of coffee before him and his hands rhythmically tapping on the coffee table. You felt him examining you, eyes landing on the shoes he gifted you, and his smile widened a bit. You quickly turned your face before it could flush at this simple gesture.

“So, umm. Does anyone except Dante have any experience at dancing?” Angel raised his hands with a smirk - you sighed. “Ballroom dances.” Angel flipped you off and laughed, taking his hand down again. Charlie nodded with a shy smile, her hand remained up. “A bit, I'm no good at all. But we're here to learn, and I'm sure it will be fun, right, guys?”

You crossed your arms and thought for a moment. “Alright. We don't have a lot of time and I don't think any of you have the patience to get really detailed. So let's just stick to two or three basic dances, easy ones that are versatile enough, yeah?” “Waltzes are fun, and pretty standard, too.”, Dante smiled. “My Mom and Dad always loved to dance foxtrot, can we do that, (Y/n)?”, Charlie chirped, bopping on her feet.

Angel huffed. “Okay, if we're just learnin' the boring frigid dances, I'm out. I don't have these hips to not shake 'em, Rocks.” “Don't you already shake them enough at work?”, Vaggie mumbled unnerved, earning a mocking grin from the spider. “'What, Vagina? Jealous that I know how to use 'em better than 'ya?”

"OKAY .”, you interjected, slightly annoyed as you massaged your temples, feeling Alastor's suppressed laugh in the back of your neck. “So, the waltz and the foxtrot are good, easy dances to learn, we'll do that. And Angel, I'll throw in the Cha Cha, to busy your hips instead of your mouth, sounds fair?” "Oh sugar tits, 'ya know I'm a professional, I can do both at the same..." he grinned at Dante with a wink, but you cut him off quickly, seeing Dante backing off with a nervous smile.

"GREAT, awesome, let's pair you guys up."

With an apologetic smile to the cat, you pulled Angel to Husk in the hopes he would be able to manage the... vigor of your lewd friend. Charlie and Vaggie were a given pair, already getting in position, which left Niffty and Dante. The nightingale looked at the still cleaning and scrubbing maid, then to you, with a helpless shrug. Dreading the pain your feet will be in as, from experience, Dante would definitely step on them relentlessly, you take a deep breath.

"Alright, Dante, I guess you will..."

"Be just a perfect partner for our dear Niffty. The little darling is quite the enthusiastic learner, very fitting for a beginner such as you, would you not say, sweetheart?"

Alastor's 'question' wasn't aimed at you, but Niffty, voice vibrating overly cheery in a quiet threat, cutting you off once more. Niffty, already putting the polishing cloth away in her pocket, gave him a quick curtsy, and skitted over to Dante, smiling manically. He chuckled, looking a bit worriedly to her, but kept a cheerful smile as she enthusiastically grabbed his hands and pulled herself onto his feet.

With all of them paired up, you were left with...

"Looks like I am at your service for a change." Alastor's grin widened. He appeared next to the record player and adjusted his suit jacket, folding his hands behind his back and gesturing with his head a tiny bit to the side of him. A sign. He wanted you to join him by his side, to come to him, a little, subtle power play. Your body reacted naturally by walking to him, without further need to think about it. His eyes stayed with yours as he slowly nodded approvingly, stepping towards you.

With you standing only inches apart from his broad frame and a curious blush creeping on your cheeks as your memories served up the recent moments the both of you had shared together - It took great effort on your part to ignore the intense, very unbecoming thoughts that flooded your head, but you cleared your throat and clapped your hands.

"So. Let's start with the Cha Cha."

"Alright, Angel, for the tenth time, stay in box form, your hips can only sway AFTER the forward steps, so move...", you sighed exasperated. You had given them the basic steps, how to count and what the man and the women's posture should look like, having Alastor waiting (and slightly brooding) at the side lines. You patted an annoyed looking Husk on the back, and gave a side glance to Niffty and Dante. As chaotic as they were, they were already in a weird, hilarious looking sync, both counting their steps and mowing down furniture (and the other dancers) as they tumbled across the foyer in vague looking Cha Cha moves. Charlie was giving a rather frustrated and grumbling Vaggie a much needed pep talk, but from her embarrassed giggling and the exhausted look on Vaggie's face you guessed it wasn't going well.

"Goddammit, you can't give me this much shit, Husky!", Angel groaned and grabbed Husk's shoulder and paw - despite the cat's disgruntled protests - and tried again to lead his reluctant partner in an overly dramatic fashion, mumbling loudly 'da-da cha-cha-cha'.

"Actually, no - I totally can, if I want to.", he hissed back, pulling the spider back roughly by his upper arm in the opposite direction.

"Uuuuh, getting rough with me now, baby? You know I like it like that."

"Will you two fucking stop bitching at each other for once and dance?", Vaggie shouted over her shoulder, stepping on Charlies toes – again.

"Hey, language!", the princess yelped, hopping on one foot while holding the other.

"Well, isn't this a productive lesson." Alastor grinned, his eyes following Niffty who spun a helpless Dante into a bookshelf. You stared at him, your expression unamused, and he chuckled.

"It is quite literally not.", you groaned, gesturing towards the couples. "Please, help me."

He leaned in, close enough for you to feel his hot breath on your cheek, and spoke in a hushed tone.

"Are you asking me for a dance, dear?"

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestive, flirty tone of his voice, and you swallowed. God, cool your head, at least try to have a backbone.

"Might be more effective to show than tell."

The deer straightened himself again, eyes glinting at you mischievously, while you took out a vinyl from the sleeve, smiling at the title – you knew that song well. The music started playing from the gramophone, a latin jazz song with a catchy rhythm. Alastor stepped back, his smile widened and he made a short, elegant bow, offering you his hand.

"Let us see if we can salvage the situation, then." He pulled you close to him, positioning his hands perfectly, as if he'd trained it thousands of times. It took your breath away, the instant feeling of a dance partner who actually knew what he was doing making you feel queezy and excited at the same time. "Dante, Niffty, would you please get out of the way, thank you."

The bird and the maid, less in mid-step and more in mid-stumble, jumped aside, the latter still counting out loud. The other pairs stopped their feeble attempts too, watching in stunned silence what was happening. He started to move, and you followed his movements perfectly.

"Now, I assume the problem lays with the fact that not one of these simpletons are familiar with the art of dance, or has at least the basic ability to count?", Alastor cooed, just barely loud enough for you to hear it over the music.

"If you're not used to it, it can be hard in the beginning." You felt a little proud when he twirled you, and you came back smoothly. He hummed in approval.

"Not that difficult, after all. It is easy enough to count, if one is able to hear, and follow a few simple steps, if one is able to walk."

"You make it sound like it's child's play.", you chuckled, and he smiled wider, letting you take the lead briefly.

"Quite. But if there's no other solution than to teach them, why not make an actual game out of it next time?"

"...how so?"

"Simple, really. Make it into a competition. That always works for me." He leaned back, twirling you out again. "Give the winner a reward."

"What reward?", you asked, and he leaned in, closer than before, and lowered his voice as his hand moved from your hip to your thigh, pulling it up into a borderline scandalous pose.

"I can think of a few ideas."

Your face flushed instantly, and he laughed his staticy laughter, his claws digging into your skin ever so slightly as he held you tight, leading the both of you with such elegance that your heart beat faster, the butterflies in your stomach erupting in an unruly flurry.

"I think we have their attention now, darling."

Indeed, you felt the many eyes on you, and your dance. Alastor's hold tightened, his movements became sharper, the pace faster and his grip harder, pushing you, challenging you. You kept up easily, the tension between the two of you rising. You heard Angel whistling through his teeth, and in a moment of Alastor pulling you into another pose, you had the clarity of mind to give the gawking group a stern, aggravated look.

"What are you guys doing, gawking like that? Stop staring, start dancing."

Vaggie and Charlie exchanged a brief, flustered look, and started their attempts again, albeit a bit more successful. Angel had a smug, knowing smirk on his face as he turned back to Husk, and the cat sighed, rolling his eyes and adjusting his bow tie, muttering something along the lines of 'this is not gonna end well'.

The Radio Demon's grip tightened around you even more, his hand moving dangerously high on your thigh, the other one gripping your waist almost possessively. He leaned his head towards your neck, his lips brushing against the soft, sensitive skin as he whispered.

"Look at them, little kitten. Look at how they try and fail, compared to us."

His teeth grazed the soft, vulnerable spot right under your jaw, and the sensation sent a shiver through your spine. He grinned, and pulled back.

"I don't know... they seem to make at least some progress."

"Such a gracious teacher." He mused, twirling you once more and catching you again, pressing his chest against yours. You were starting to breathe heavily, the strain of keeping up with him taking its toll, or was it the tension of his suggestive words? "It is no wonder my lovely assistant was able to earn her place in a prestigious school of cultural arts. If she's able to teach these dunderheads how to move their bodies, I wonder what she might be able to teach others, given the right incentive."

Your face burned with a red heat, the implications of his words hitting hard. Alastor, in his usual teasing and unusual suggestive manner, was always saying such things, always dancing around the topic (pun not intended). Never going straight into it. Yet, somehow, in a weird and roundabout way, his words lately carried a meaning with them, a promise - a silent, secret wish - and it excited you, thrilled you even. You realized why he and you seemed to dance so perfectly well together: Leading a dance commanded to take full control and having a plan, following a dance meant to give it up and let your partner make the decisions for you, reacting to even the most subtle hints.

"I guess there are no awards for doing a teachers job?", you asked, trying to keep up with his quick steps, feeling his gaze piercing into yours.

"Oh, I'm sure a well deserved one will present itself soon enough."

The song was about to end, and he lifted his hand, signaling you to go under his arm, and you did, twirling into the final position, his hand on the small of your back, holding you against his chest, and your arms wrapped around his neck, face turned away. He must've done that on purpose, right? Keeping this last moment to himself, to pull you so close, so intimate you closed your eyes in certain expectancy of an impending kiss. When the song ended without it, the rest of the world seemed to come back abruptly, and you blinked, realizing you weren't alone with Alastor but in a room full with people. People with eyes. And ears. And most of them with functional brains. Shit.

"Well, that was some hot fuckin' shit."

Angel's voice pulled you back completely, and you stepped back a bit, out of the Radio Demon's embrace, and felt the eyes of the rest of the group on you again, especially Vaggies.

"Language, Angel!", Charlie squealed, her cheeks red, but she was smiling.

"But in a way Angel is right.", Dante said, giving you an approving thumbs up. "You still got it, munchkin. And Mr. Alastor, that was..."

"A goddamn performance, yeah.", Husk mumbled, crossing his arms, and Vaggie hummed, her one eye flitting back and forth between you and the tall, red demon.

"Well, that's a word for it."

"As I always say, my friends - the world is a stage. Sometimes even one worth sharing, given the right talent." He took your hand, bowed elegantly and planted a small, tender kiss on it, his red eyes looking up and never leaving yours. You were still blushing, a little breathless, a little speechless, and nodded, turning your eyes away to find a way to ground yourself again.

"Ummm, that was a good start. Yeah. Cool. Let's take a small break, drink something, and we'll continue in five."

Alastor sat back, content, watching his kitten hurry off to the kitchen to grab some water for everyone. He saw her tail all fluffed up and swishing upright, which only made him grin wider as he returned to his armchair. The rest of the group broke into excited, albeit not exactly dance related conversations.

Husker came up to him and put down a glass of whiskey next to his emptied mug, which Alastor took and drank in one swing. He looked over the cat, whose face was contorted in a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

"That was a nice little stunt you pulled there."

"Stunt, dear Husker? I am not sure I know what you mean."

"Cut the crap, Boss. I have a nose for that kind of stuff, and it reeked of bullshit."

"Oh-ho! Language, Husker!", Alastor said with mock indignation, grinning widely.

Husk looked him over, and frowned, tilting his head. "Fuck. Yo' actually look pleased."

"Mh... Do I?"

"Yeah. Kinda. And not in the goddamn smug way yo' usually do... if your psychotic asshole attitude would allow the feeling, that is." Husk raised one of his furry eyebrows. "Do yo'... Am I getting something right here?"

"I'm afraid you will have to specify, because I don't have the faintest idea about what you are blabbering."

The cat pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Holy shit, you fuckin'... Does this... You and her, do you-" He gestured vaguely into the direction of the hallway.

Alastor stayed silent and lifted his glass for another fill, and Husk grabbed the bottle with a snarl and opened it up, pouring it for him with shaking paws.

"Yo' know what, forget I even tried to ask that stupid question."

"Best if you do. You know very well, dear friend, what happens to curious beings putting their noses too far in my business."

"Asshole.", he growled and filled his own glass with whiskey, knocking back half the bottle in a swing, grimacing when the burning liquid traveled down his throat, and putting the now significantly lighter bottle down with a huff. The cat demon looked over his shoulder, watching as his pet returned with a tray full of various drinks, handing one to Niffty who looked both disheveled and exhilarated. "M'tellin' yo', it's not gonna end well."

"So are a lot of things down here. No point to fear a day that hasn't even begun." The cat demon gripped his glass tighter, obviously biting his tongue. But the expression on his longtime companions face was something Alastor hasn't seen in quite some time - genuine worry. For what, Alastor didn't care enough to think about, although he suspected it to be about her rather than himself. In her efforts, it seemed his little gem really weaved some pretty impactful bonds to the residents, first Angel Dust, then Niffty and Charlie, now even Husk.

"You would be surprised, Husker my friend, the number of things I am able to... work out." Alastor laughed darkly, not exactly oblivious of the double meaning he offered, but in a rather malicious and ill humored tone. He eyed the little, scarlet cyclops as she threw herself around his kittens neck, babbling on about the 'memories she'll cherish forever', and that she learned 'an excellent dance that required a partner with excellent feathers for them to have fun with', and then he watched his kitten trying to appease her by patting her head. Somehow, Nifftys hair entangled in her hand, and he watched with keen eyes as she slowly and carefully pulled magenta hair from the red thread on her finger, easing the little demon into holding still as to not rip it from her digit.

Somewhere, deep inside, this unfamiliar sting appeared again, and he had no other choice but to attribute it to his strange fondness of the scarred beauty he acquired not too long ago, and which steadily increased every moment they spent together. A soft smile curled over her lips as she threw a glace back to him, still listening to the small maid, but with a freed hand, thread safely in place and intact. H usk was talking still, Alastor wasn't sure if he was aware or not. It didn't matter to him at the moment. Another conversation caught his attention, a hushed discussion happening over with Vaggie and the little princess.

It looked serious. And serious talk made him want to frown, even with his tight smile sewn into place.

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #fraugwinskawrites #ao3 fanfic #method to madness #angel dust #charlie morningstar #habin hotel vaggie #hazbin niffty #hazbin husk #hazbin oc #metoma #radiogem

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bloodykora · 7 months ago

Note

Ik you're probably sick of the ABA playlist suggestions, but if you're not here's a few;

Stockholm Syndrome - Charming Disaster

A Hex - Go Hang Music

Love! Or The Beast That Looks Like it - Honorary Astronaut

Mi Capitán - Kiltro

Fight for Me - AlicebanD

I'm a little obsessed with them

Also tried to go for songs with low listen-counts so hopefully they're new suggestions.

Hii! Apologies for the later reply, I've been taking care of my sick partner but thank you for the recommendations. And I'm nowhere near sick of song suggestions, I love finding new music so thank you for letting me expand.

Stockholm Syndrome had such straight to the point lyrics which most of the time I'm not a fan of in song writing but it very much reminded me of Stalkers Tango by Autoheart or Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer. Cause right at the beginning it does talk about hostage situation but the lyrics. "How can you take whats been given? There is no one who's been stolen." Very much Para being like "yeah you did take me however, I'm cool with it. I don't wanna leave." (And like a little kick of Guns + Ammunition by July Talk but idk why)

You really said "I'm gonna give this hoe a run for her money" I cannot find any lyrics for A Hex so I had to listen very carefully to it. This song is reminiscent of ABA's trailer to me. "A consuming flame of jealousy" I can very much see it as her inner mantra, wanting to be positive and healthy yet "feelings of inability clash inside of me" aka still having those pesky envious and rageful thoughts. "Violent and hateful, I'm jealous and spiteful. A feign of cruelty runs through my core."

When I read this title, I missed old PATD so fast. However, unlike PATD the title actually correlates to the song. This is Testament in the embodiment of song form in ABA's character arcade. Couples therapy song.

Okay Gomez Addams. If I had a character playlist for him, this would definitely go on it. Which leads me to now realize. Honestly, when/if Para does become human. ABA and him would be a very much toned Morticia and Gomez couple. This is a Para song to me. Because ABA is very much the leader in the relationship (cause he's a key) and the song very much encapsulates the singer as the follower. Doing as his lover wishes, and even the scars or other hearts don't matter. "My heart, my liege, my second birth." Ties into how Para speaks about how before he met ABA he was very blood hungry and manipulate and as we see. He seems very different from that, he changed since being with ABA.

If this was on my playlist. I would definitely put it near the top. Before the couple went through their changes as people and as partners. Because it's very unhealthy. "Make you fight for me and pray I pay the bills. Make you die for me and watch your body spill." In all honesty though, this is absolutely how their partnership started when ABA found Para.

Anon, Saber. You very much have a taste of music that I kinda avoid. Not cause I think its bad or anything, I just don't normally click with it. I kinda call it banjo music, where its whimsical yet serious toned. And it was kinda fun to think of ABA that way.

#guilty gear strive #aba guilty gear #guilty gear #aba guilty gear strive

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frangipanilove · 1 year ago

Text

Got some grit in the gearbox, Daryl?

Kudos to Sylvie for cutting through the crap and getting straight to the important stuff:

Back in TWD 6x14 Twice As Far, we were all baffled to learn that Daryl, our favorite southern redneck, for some inexplicable reason didn’t know how to drive a manual car. Yeah. Super weird.

In fact, it was so utterly incomprehensible, that the only possible logic behind including that bizarre scene in the episode would be for symbolism purposes.

Because in fact, in TWDDD 1x6 Coming Home, Daryl's response to Sylvie’s question “have you ever been in love”….

...was to change gears. Very demonstratively.

So clearly the man knows how to do it. Why did tptb so badly need us to know that Daryl didn’t know how to drive a manual car back in 6x14 Twice As Far?

This was Denise’s death episode, and she spent a considerable amount of her last minutes on the show explaining to Daryl how to change gears. It all seemed a bit odd. Why?

I’ve answered that question already. They did it for symbolism reasons.

When Denise joined the show in season six, TD immediately recognized her as a Beth proxy. She was also ultimately killed off by taking an arrow through the eye (Sirius symbolism). Daryl was very distraught from her death.

It’s not for nothing that she, the Beth proxy, was the one who (for symbolism reasons) had to teach Daryl Dixon how to change gears properly. Because not only would Daryl on a normal day obviously be perfectly able to drive stick (he literally built a motorcycle from spare parts! Come on! The man clearly knows his way around gears), he was also the one who fixed the music box back in 5x11 Them (yes the one that totally symbolizes Beth).

His diagnosis? Grit in the gearbox.

(I wish I could remember who first made me aware of the link between Daryl’s inability to properly change gears and the grit in the gearbox. It was likely @wdway or @angelthefirst1, as they’re both experts on catching parallels like these)

I want to take some time here to remind everyone about the meaning of the numbers 11, or “one one”. I’ve written extensively about it, both in the past and more recently. 5x11 “Them” was the eleventh episode of season 5. Remember this post about the connection between the words “record” and “heart”? A music box is part of the “recording studio” symbolism. A record player is a music box, illustrated below by the record player Daryl got for Judith in season 11, a record player in a box, a literal music box. The music box from “Them” is part of the “one one recording studio” symbolism I’ve talked about so much recently.

And the music box that symbolized Beth had “some grit in the gearbox” according to Daryl.

Let’s move on to the clock for a minute. After escaping from Madame Genet’s Maison Mere, they find a police car (Police = blue). Before they start driving, Laurent gives Daryl the clock, and Daryl attaches it to the rear view mirror. Remember there are strong navigational themes around the clock.

Remember Morgan’s rabbit’s foot from 5x8 Coda? It was literally one of the first things we saw on the show after Beth had "died".

We later learned in a flashback (in 6x4 Here’s Not Here) that it originally belonged to Eastman, who in turn had gotten it from his daughter. He told the story of how it gave him hope and a will to survive, it was truly a good luck charm.

We also saw in in 5x16 Conquer, hanging from the rear view mirror of a car, much like we saw Laurent's clock hanging from the rear view mirror in 1x6 “Coming Home”.

I talked about the symbolism around the rabbit's foot and rear view mirrors in my Sirius/North Star master post. Back then I interpreted it as something that was about "looking back", like "back in time", plus the obvious "back" = "coming back" = "return". In fact, we also saw a walker that appeared to have her head twisted around so that she was facing backwards, something which in my opinion further indicated a theme of "looking back". Again, this was directly after Beth had "died", and symbolically speaking, looking back would mean looking back at Beth's "death". Like, "Reverse! Everything is not quite what it seems".

The link between Sylvie's question about Daryl's love life, the clock and the music box from 5x11 Them is the grit in the gearbox. The gears. Immediately after Sylvie has asked her question, and Daryl has successfully changed gears, the car starts malfunctioning. Could it be grit in the gearbox perhaps?

The music box had grit in the gearbox, but he fixed it...

#bethyl #daryl dixon #beth greene #team delusional #team defiance #beth x daryl #the walking dead #twd #twddd #grit in the gearbox #music box

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integra1127grimmreaper · 1 year ago

Text

The One That Got Away - Part eleven

Negan Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 10

Warning: swearing, mention of cheating, implied sexual content.

Did you feel guilty about what happened between Negan and you? Yes, you did.

Did that guilt make it easier to avoid falling back into bed with Negan again? No, it didn’t.

No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself it was wrong, you couldn’t resist his charms. Each time afterward, you would be adamant with yourself that it be the last time you gave in to Negan, and yet each time you would fail to keep that promise when he would pitch up at your front-door.

It wasn’t only the sex that was causing your inability to put a stop to the relationship between Negan and you. It was the little things he would do for you, sending you good morning and goodnight text messages every day, as well as checking-in on you throughout the day. If you had a crappy day, it was a guarantee that when you got home, Negan would be waiting for you in the driveway; ready to take care of you. Sending you off to take a shower and unwind while he went about in the kitchen cooking dinner, sometimes the two of you would just cuddle in front of the tv and nothing else.

It had become such a regular thing that eventually you had given him a set of keys to enter the house while he waited for you to return home from work.

It was during those moments that you could almost believe that what the two of you had was a true relationship and not what it truly was, an affair.

Whenever reality would kick-in, you always pondered on whether his wife didn’t suspect anything. Negan spent his evenings at your home almost every second day. Surely, she must have questioned his whereabouts? It was something that always sat on the tip of your tongue to ask him, but then you would think better of it, keeping those thoughts to yourself instead.

The entire day had been exhausting; multiple callouts and tons of paperwork that had to be seen to thereafter. Only thing made the day bearable was that today was Friday, and it was your weekend off from work, on top of that; Negan was spending the entire weekend with you as well.

“Hey...” you exhale tiredly as you entered through the front-door.

“Hey, Sweetheart” Negan gets up from the couch to greet you, pressing a kiss to your lips as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Busy day?”

“Excruciatingly busy...” you sigh out, resting your head against his chest.

“Dinners done, why don’t you go take a shower, then we can eat.”

You step out of the embrace with a head shake.

“We should eat while it’s still warm, besides not sure whether I'll have the energy to eat after a shower.”

“Ok, you sit and relax while I set everything out” Negan replies, grabbing hold of your hand to lead you to the kitchen.

“You’re spoiling me too much...” you moan out at the first bite of the dinner Negan had prepared.

“Gotta take care of my lady” Negan flashes you a broad smile.

“So, how was your day?”

“I really don’t wanna talk about how many arrests I’ve made today” you respond.

“I’d rather hear how yours went, how many kids did you curse at today?”

“Not many, there’s this one kid though...” Negan shakes his head in annoyance at the thought of the kid.

“Always testing my fuckin’ patience... thinks his the fuckin’ shit. Wish I could wring the lil shithead’s neck.”

“Negan, I don’t wanna hear a callout coming through that you had assaulted a kid” you scold at him in warning.

“Don’t worry, wouldn’t want to have my girlfriend arresting me for that” Negan smirks in response, causing your heart to flatter rapidly at his remark.

Did he really see this as an actual real relationship?

There were moments, especially like these ones that felt like what the two of you had was a normal relationship, that made you forget the reality of what it truly was. All that mattered were these precious moments where it was just the two of you; lost deep in your own little world.

You were confident about what and how you felt about him, his feelings about it all you were never quite sure about.

You were busy at the bathroom mirror with your morning fascial routine, as you spread the product down to your neck, a faint smirk tugged at your lips when seeing the marks Negan had left on it not long ago in the shower.

The weekend had kicked off with an exhausting start, but what made it all better was falling asleep in Negan’s arms and getting to wake up in them this morning.

At first you were a bit worried with Negan getting into to trouble with his wife for not being at home, but he had assured you that it truly wasn’t a problem.

“You sure this ain’t going to get you into trouble?” you asked snuggled up against Negan as you watched TV.

“Nuh, she thinks I'm having a boys-weekend away...” Negan shrugs, muttering under his breath then.

“Not like she would even care.”

And it was with that statement that you knew that things between Negan and his wife weren’t that good. Question was though; were you the reason behind it? Or had it been coming on before you came back into the picture?

Not wanting to sour the good vibes of this weekend, you decide to brush it to one side.

Negan was lounging on his side when you entered the bedroom, a mischievous smirk on his face while hiding one hand behind his back.

“Why do you have that look on your face?” you eyed him suspiciously.

“What look...?” Negan innocently remarks, smirk broadening by the second.

“Like you found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow” you remark with a drawl, eyes squinting even more in suspicion.

“What are you hiding behind your back?”

“Oh, I definitely found something...” Negan remark cheerfully, finally revealing what he had been hiding.

“Care to tell me what this is for...?”

“It’s for checking temperatures...” you answer sarcastically, placing your hand on your hip with an arched brow.

“You know damn well what it’s for.”

Negan places a hand against his chest in pretend hurt.

“Ain’t I fucking ya good enough Sweetheart?”

“You fuck me well enough” you respond, reaching out to pick your dildo off the bed but Negan grabs it back.

“So, why do ya need this for then?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t used it since we’ve been together” you answer.

“Now put it back where you found it.”

“Nuh-uh...” Negan smirks shaking his head.

“Wanna try this sucker out.”

“On yourself?” you snicker.

“Fuck no” Negan scoffs, a mischievous smirk spreading across his lips then.

“Wanna see if ya take this fella as well as you take my cock.”

Part 12

Tags: @neganswoman @especially @thecupcakevigilante @nt-multi-fandom @tonysterco @stoneyggirl2

#twd negan #twdfanfic #twdlovestory #coach-negan #negan smith #negan x reader #negan x y/n #The Walking Dead #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #negan #JDM

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