#i still kept them to at least be somewhat excusable though

[mushroomsie224]

My sister got ahold of my sketchbook and opened it RIGHT TO THE UNFINISHED CEDLOCK SPREAD. IN FRONT OF MY MOM.

Luckily I snatched it away before my mom saw it <3

[enviedear]

A request throught for billy the kid.

He goes to a bar where a barmaid owns and works there, and they sleep together, and when he comes back, she has a little boy running around that looks a whole lot like him....

girl from the north country — billy bonney

request

i got this ask and my brain immediately went 'bob dylan rendition of girl from north country' because this trope has that song written all over it.

tw— allusions to the deed, hidden baby trope, use of, 'momma' as a pet name.

less than three years ago, you made the grave decision to bed an outlaw. he was sweet and soft with you, sweet talking his way into your britches. it had been a fun night, but despite your delighted evening, a sinking feeling took hold of you the minute he caught your eye.

his name was billy. or at least, he went by billy. he was a mess of dark brown hair, kind blue eyes, and honest nature. it felt like fate when you saw him. he had been sitting at the bar, quiet and lonesome. you found it easy to talk to him.

he had given you a bright smile, engaging you in casual conversation as the night turned to morning. slipping out with you when you closed down the bar, only to follow you up the road to your small homestead.

you had never seen him before, but after he left town, you soon learned exactly who he was. wanted posters with his likeness followed his trail, leaving you tight-lipped about the entire situation.

it was about six months after his visit that your lips finally began to move, coming up with fruitless excuses for the townspeople. by then, your stomach had already started to round, bulging into something plain and inescapable. at first, you were terrified and even considered fleeing to another town and opting to try and pass as a widow. even now, despite yourself, the thought lingers in the back of your mind.

you've been lucky though, the town is nice enough to not ask you questions. just watchful stares and a few upturned noses. you kept your job at the gin mill, working through the night while your married friend watched the baby.

you've found yourself a quiet life—a growing meadow of life hidden in the hellish and desolate west.

with a sigh, you turn your attention back to the clothesline, grabbing at the last of the dry garments and flinging them in your basket. there's a storm brewing close in the distance, and a loud crack of thunder has the small child at your feet fretting.

you pick up your fussy toddler, his pink lips curled into a frown, "c'mon bubba, s'just a little storm."

you glance at the darkening sky, feeling the first droplets of rain on your skin. the wind picks up, causing the clothesline to sway with a creak. cradling your son in your arms, you hurry inside, leaving the clothes in your haste of trying to beat the approaching storm.

inside the cozy warmth of your small homestead, you try to soothe the worried toddler in your arms. the distant rumble of thunder grows louder, and you decide it's best to stay cooped up, work be damned. as you settle into a rocking chair, softly humming a lullaby to the sweet boy in your arms, the rain begins to patter against the window.

the hours pass slowly, the storm raging outside, when a sudden knock on the door startles you. with caution, you approach and peer through the small window and see a tall figure drenched in rain, barely recognizable underneath his sopping hat.

you open the door, and the man looks up. his eyes are kind, and eerily familiar. looking like a drowned man, standing at your door, is billy. he looks apologetic and somewhat sheepish. rainwater drips from the brim of his hat as he mumbles, "m'sorry for showing up like this, i wasn't even sure if you were still here."

you eye him cautiously, memories of your night shared with him resurfacing, but the storm outside softens your resolve, "what brings you here, billy?" you inquire, staring up at the rain-soaked outlaw before you, taking in his genuine expression.

his voice trembles as he confesses that he never meant to stay away for so long— but life on the run has its cruel complications. now, drenched and shivering in the midst of a raging storm, he pleads for refuge in your home, desperation etched onto every word as he begs for forgiveness and a safe haven from his pursuers.

hesitating for a moment, you look back at your toddler playing on the floor. with a sigh, you relent, "alright, billy, you can come in, but just until the storm passes."

as he steps inside, you notice the surprise in his eyes when he sees the boy. he's donned in a darling little linen onesie, your own hands had worked tirelessly over the garment. his bright eyes look between you and billy, the hue of your own eyes evident and the blue of billy's scattered throughout. a perfect blend.

a silence hangs in the air as realization slowly dawns on him. his gaze shifts between you and your little one, and in that moment, he connects the dots.

his voice softens, "is he... is he mine?"

the question sends a shiver down your spine and all of your carefully constructed defenses slowly crumble around you. there's no denying it now, the truth of what had happened was laid bare for both of you to see, innocent face staring up at the both of you. you stand in place, your feet rooted to the ground. you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you realize the confession you're about to make. taking a deep breath, you finally relent.

a nod is all you can manage, the weight of the unspoken truth lingering in the room. billy takes a step closer to the little boy and you start. but his intentions are gentle as he reaches out to touch the top of his child's head, "i never knew." he murmurs, a mix of regret and wonder in his eyes.

you watch as billy kneels down to meet your son at eye level. the child looks up at him with innocent curiosity, and you can't help but feel a twinge of anger mixed in with the guilt that had been festering inside of you for so long. you had carried the weight of this secret for years, the fear of the townsfolk finding out and ostracizing you and your child from the community. but looking down at billy's face, you know that it's time to come clean.

"he's almost three now, billy," you say softly, the regret in your own voice almost palpable, "i didn't know how to find you...i didn't even know your name back then."

billy's expression softens as he turns to look at you, his eyes full of sorrow, "i understand," he says, his voice gentle. "m'sorry i wasn't there for you. for both o'you."

you nod, knowing his words are earnest, "you couldn't have known." you say quietly.

billy stands up and walks towards you, his arms open. his eyes are sad, but they hold a fierce longing that you can feel despite any attempt to deny it. his body radiates with a warmth that you can't help but feel drawn to, despite all of the fear and regret that fills your heart. you close your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped by his embrace, feeling his arms wrap around your body and pull you close.

"i'm sorry," he whispers into your ear. "god, m'so sorry for everything."

you nod, unable to find your voice. the storm outside rages on, but inside, the atmosphere is one of acceptance and forgiveness. you have both been through so much, but now, with the truth out in the open, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. you look up into billy's eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

"i forgave you a long time ago," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "figure i can't keep hiding this little one away from his father. not now, wouldn't be right."

billy nods, his eyes now filled with hope, "i want to be a part of his life, if you'll let me," he says, his voice filled with a conviction that sends shivers down your spine.

you nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, "of course," you say, your voice filled with a mixture of relief and sadness. "he deserves to have his daddy."

billy smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, cupping your cheeks, "what about his momma? seems like she's been gettin' on fine without a man around."

you hum, trying to ignore how easy your heart skips for him, "i reckon she'll make him grovel 'fore she'll be his sweetheart again."

your outlaw lets out a soft chuckle, "then i best get to grovelin', momma."

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

[st0rmyskies]

What Your Favorite Link Says About You

A.k.a. The Links as tarot cards/your rising sign/your blood type.

Time

You're likely an older Zelda fan. Ibuprofen has become a food group for you. Anyone who thinks OoT isn't the greatest Zelda game has you clutching your pearls and tutting. Kids these days don't know how good they have it.

You are a person to whom young people come for advice, either in your career or in life in general. You're happy to give it, especially because you love to help, but on the inside you're silently screaming, What?? Why me???

You may have trouble sleeping through the night. Even if it's not every night, there are some where you just can't turn your brain off and worries or worst-case scenarios just keep playing and replaying ad nauseaum.

You enjoy time in solitude to appreciate the beauty of nature. I bet you know how to braid a mean daisy crown.

“The flow of time is always cruel...” - Some event in your life took your innocence from you, perhaps much too early. You grew up quickly because of it.

Legend

Either you had a crush on the emo kid in high school or you were the emo kid in high school.

You might be jaded by the world, but you still have a solid work ethic and a soft heart despite it all. Even if you hide it all beneath a healthy layer of sass.

You possess a multitude of skills, not all of which are related. Anytime a friend needs a piece of clothing mended or a picture frame hung on the wall or a leak in a faucet addressed, you have the tools and the willingness to help.

Either you have a history of moving frequently when you were young, or you have a restless spirit. You may never quite feel 'at home' in any given place.

"But, verily, it be the nature of dreams to end." - You’ve suffered a meaningful loss in your life and you have a hard time opening up again because of it. 

Hyrule

You root for the underdog, or perhaps you are the underdog. Any of those "against all odds" stories just hit you square in the chest.

Somewhat quiet by nature, you do vital work behind the scenes but you aren't the type to seek out a leadership position. Leave the limelight to somebody else, please.

You might sell yourself short when it comes to your skills and abilities, but you should believe in yourself, man! You can do it!!

You have a capricious streak in you that rears its head now and again. That smile can look sharp and devilish in the right light.

"It's dangerous to go alone!" - You either already have or are destined to find 'that one person' with whom you can open up and truly be yourself. 

Twilight

I'm willing to put money on the fact that Twilight Princess was your first Zelda game.

You have a strong sense of justice and get really bent out of shape when you encounter unfairness or flaw in the system, whatever that may be. You might be considered an outsider in some way because of this.

You're the friend who scoops spiders up in a cup and sets them outside. Live and let live.

You were the 'wolf kid' in middle school. Come on, those amazing tie dye shirts? Wolf Woman? Julie of the Wolves?? Even if you kept it inside, it was there in some way.

"Your current power would disgrace the proud green of the hero's tunic you wear." - You put a lot of stock in the opinions of others and hold yourself to a higher standard because of it. Sometimes that standard isn't achievable, though, so try to be kind to yourself. 

Sky

You, my friend, have a soft heart. You're generally a happy-go-lucky sort of person. You're likely to make excuses for those who've been mean to you in the past and come out as friends on the other side.

You're crafty, or at the very least good with your hands. You're the type to give someone a handmade gift rather than go buy something for them for their birthday, a holiday, etc.

You have a strong affinity for your friends. If anything bad were to happen to them, you'd turn violent at the drop of a hat.

You may have some level of chronic illness that affects you. Although you might do things in a different way or at your own pace, though, you still come out on top.

"You fight like no man or demon I have ever known." - You have the capability for great things. World-changing sorts of things. Don't give up!

Wild

You're some flavor of neurodivergent, if I had to guess I'd say ADHD. You have 42 tabs open in your brain at any given time and you have no idea which one the music is coming from.

You're an incredibly creative person, although you might have trouble finishing tasks/works-in-progress. Doesn't mean you didn't learn something along the way!

Rigid guidelines or deadlines stress you out. You'd rather be given a goal and decide for yourself when and how to get there. When you do have a deadline, you're a bit of a procrastinator.

Sometimes you don’t get the 'right' way to do things, but you carve your own path--although sometimes it's unorthodox--and get there in your own time.

"Courage need not be remembered, for it is never forgotten." - In spite of how your life changes you, for better or for worse, you have a driving inspiration or ethic or vocation that moves you forward at all costs.

Warriors

Those who don't know you well tend to boil you down to one or two trite traits. In reality, you contain multitudes. Most people couldn't handle all of you, not that they deserve to know even part of you.

You tend to lay it on thick--be that your charm, attitude, or whatever else your social shield might be--because you're hiding some deeper secret or insecurity at your core.

You're the mom friend or the planner in your group, or perhaps you're the oldest child. You’ll pass on an authority role if and when you can, but likely you’re still involved in some supervisory capacity in a given situation. 

You kill spiders with fire. Show NO mercy.

"You dare raise the blade of evil's bane to me? So be it. Hyrule's blood will be on your hands." - You have strong convictions and you aren't afraid to take risks, major risks, to do what you know to be right.

Four

Babe, if you ain't short, you've got short person energy. You scare me a little bit tbh.

You were praised for not being a problem child growing up, or for being very responsible at a young age.

You have a vivid imagination! You may have had an imaginary friend as a child or lived in your own little world altogether. I bet your notebook pages were strewn with little doodles in school.

You're a lover of information. If you could choose between an afternoon at the library or a movie matinee, it would be the former.

"Hanging around with you fools is dangerous for my health." - You're the snark friend, aren't you.  

Wind

You are extroverted to a fault. You need the company of others to recharge that social battery. The quintessential golden retriever friend.

You had active involvement in the music and theatre department. I'd be surprised if you weren't in at least one show in high school.

Having adventures is where it's at! You're a big fan of travel, either cross-country road trips or international flights. You could happily live out of a suitcase.

You tend to make friends easily wherever you go. If everyone in this classroom/workplace/bar doesn't know your name already, they will pretty quick.

"I have been waiting for you, boy... Do not betray my expectations.” - Against all odds, you've proven yourself to be worthy of great things. Screw what fate has in store! You're the type to take your own destiny by the 'nads.

[wish-i-were-heather]

A FOOL FOR YOU PT 3⤵ GRAYSON HAWTHORNE X READER

ABOUT: 1077 words, no use of y/n (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5)

STORY: you consult avery about what happened with grayson and then receive an... unexpected text?

WARNINGS: none!!

TAGS: @littlemissmentallyunstable @gretag13 @lanterns-and-daydreams - lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist!!

A/N: sorry guys grayson doesn't make much of an appearance here it's more moving the plot forward... but i finally figured out what's gonna happen so the next one will be pretty long

“Hey Avery, can we talk for a sec?”

You stood nervously outside of her door and waited for a response.

There was the sound of shuffling from inside and then the door opened. 

She was dressed casually today, which you supposed made sense if she was helping Jameson get over his hangover. Just jeans and a sage green knit sweater. Her hair was down, falling past her shoulders. She was good at hiding it, but you could see the slight look of exhaustion in her eyes. You understood why.

Jameson in general was a lot more to handle than Grayson, let alone drunk. 

“Yeah,” Avery said. “Of course we can talk. Is everything alright?” She motioned for you to enter the room and you did, taking a seat at the end of her bed. She took a seat next to you. 

“Yeah, no, don’t worry. I’m fine. I just… wanted to talk to you about something.” It was clear that she knew this was more than a ‘girl problem.’ That’s what you, Avery, and Max called it, at least. They were never really problems that were specific to girls, but it kept Jameson and Xander especially out of your business. 

“What, don’t tell me you got stuck with a drunk Hawthorne last night too.”

“I wish I could,” you laughed. 

Avery grinned. “Wait, so what happened? Jamie didn’t tell me much. He was too out of it. Was still even this morning. Was it the four of them or…?”

“No, just him and Grayson, apparently,” you explained. “He told me they went out to drink, obviously came back drunk, and then for some reason decided it was a good idea to go for a swim as they were. Y’know, getting their clothes all wet.” “Okay, okay, that last part I knew,” Avery nodded along. “That was the one thing Jameson was able to tell me. And it was kinda obvious that he was all wet. Damn though, I can’t believe Grayson got drunk. What was that like?”

You laughed with her. Both of you knew the absurdity of the situation. 

“It was… different,” you answered truthfully. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you, actually, about Grayson.”

She leaned closer. “Oh?”

You told her everything. 

When the story was finished, including the details from what had happened earlier that morning in the kitchen, Avery was grinning wildly. 

You frowned.  “You’re laughing at me.”

“I am not laughing at you.”

“Then what’s on your face?”

“I’m smiling because what you told me was funny. Not laughing. That’s different.”

You gave her a face. 

“Okay, okay,” Avery said, wiping the smile off her face. Somewhat. “So, Grayson was basically flirting with you-”

“But I don’t think he meant it!” You interrupted quickly. 

“Why not?”

That got you to pause. 

You hadn’t asked yourself why you didn’t think he’d meant it. You just dismissed it. You didn’t know how Grayson was drunk- no one did. So you had no idea if he had a tendency to say things he didn’t mean or a tendency to say truths he normally wouldn’t. Or… something else. 

“Because he was drunk.” 

Avery wasn’t satisfied. “And?” “And when you’re drunk, you say things you don’t mean.” 

“Or you say things you do mean, but don’t want to admit to.”

What if- no. You shouldn’t think like that. Grayson was drunk and said those stupid things that he didn’t mean, those drunken lies. That’s all, nothing more. Avery was just saying that because her boyfriend was drunk about 55% of the time. Grayson wasn’t like that. 

“You’re not helping, Avery,” you told her. “I don’t want  to think he meant it.”

“Oh, but I think you do.”

You stared at her with mock offense. “Excuse me?”

“Are you kidding?” Avery asked, raising an eyebrow at you. She spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The way you were talking about what happened last night. You didn't just tell me. You, like, told me.”

“You make no sense.”

“And you’re in denial. Grayson said, while he was sober this morning, that he still wanted you.”

A small part of you knew she was right, maybe you should just admit that Grayson maybe did mean some of what he said. And even if you weren’t ready to admit it yourself, you secretly hoped he did mean it. But another part of you wanted to prove Avery wrong. And that part prevailed. 

“He was still hungover when he said that. He didn’t mean it.”

“Right, right. Grayson doesn’t want you and I didn’t inherit 46.2 billion dollars.” She rolled her eyes, and you couldn’t quite tell if it was playful or if she was genuinely annoyed. But then she smiled, and your unease dissipated. 

“You’re impossible,” she teased, nudging you gently. “Keep living in whatever delusion you want, I know Grayson’s in love with you.”

You audibly gasped. “Avery-!”

“Shh, the guy talk is over. C’mon, let me show you the stupidest article I read about myself online.”

~~

Days passed. Days.

And you still hadn’t spoken to Grayson.

Well, technically you had. If you saw each other in the hall, you’d exchange hellos. If you saw him in the kitchen during breakfast, which you learned always included cherries for some reason, you would have idle conversation about your mornings. But a real conversation discussing what happened when he was drunk and hungover? 

Never. 

It wasn’t that you were trying to avoid him, not intentionally at least. The two of you simply didn’t bring it up. You didn’t want to make things awkward between you- or any more awkward than it had already become. There was always that elephant in the room that neither of you wanted to bring up. The way his eyes lingered on you for just a moment longer, yet you could barely manage to meet his. 

And things stayed that way for almost a week. 

Until you received a text from him.

You had Grayson’s contact saved, of course, but you two never really texted. There was just… never a need to. So you were rightfully surprised when you received a notification from his number.

911

You stared down at it. You knew Grayson and his brothers had some sort of code for that, but you didn’t think that he’d send it to you.

What?

You know what it means Come to the pool

Then another message you didn’t expect.

Please

the writing above belongs to me. please do not copy, modify, repost on other sites or claim as your own. © 2024 wish-i-were-heather

[zqmbiescorpse]

CLEANING YOUR BLOODY WOUNDS

lottie matthews x female reader

a/n: episode seven absolutely destroyed me, i'm pretty sure i spent half of it crying. i cannot handle having to wait a week to see if lottie's alright, i am stressinnnngggg. anyways, here's me pretending that she is! (i'm extremely delusional.)

summary: established relationship, lottie gets the shit beaten out of her, fluffy ig, its kinda short

warnings: mentions of violence, a lot of injury, lottie is totally okay with the fact that she was almost beaten to the death

word count: 1.3k

(masterlist)

She hadn't woken up yet. 

Your knees grew sore, the flesh pressing into the hard wooden floor beneath you, but no matter the severity of the ache, you were not leaving her side. That was a fact. You didn't care about the pain jolting your joints or about chores that needed for filling or whether you would be eating tonight, the only significance to your life, at that moment, was Lottie.

The concept of time was a genuine mystery that you didn't bother to solve, it could've been minutes or hours since you last saw Shauna, the girl had fled the cabin after pummeling Lottie's face into a grotesque mush. You would remain in the exact position, knelt at the bed, all night if needed - without even snatching a wink of sleep for yourself if that's what it came down to.

At least she wasn't dead. Though her soft, usually pale skin dotted with rosey pink specs had been corrupted by a brutal crimson swelling in vicious lumps, there was still a rise and a fall present in her chest. Each unconscious twitch and shake your girlfriend expressed signalled that she was alive, regardless, the distressed movements caused the pit in your stomach to expand, and you wondered if the battered brunette was reliving the agony of the incident in her dreams. 

The urge to reach out and caress her bruised body was a strong however stupid one, instead, you opted to run the freezing, soggy rag over her cheeks once more to help the swollen areas recover. Whilst you freshened her up, you whispered positive reassurances, telling her that she was going to be okay, somewhat simultaneously relaxing yourself, reducing your own stress levels as a bonus.

It was impossible to fathom how you'd managed to do absolutely nothing to stop the savagery. Stood there, watching horrified and devastated to see Lottie offer herself up like that, happily receiving a beating for the sake of Shauna's emotions. The lack of noise during it intensely disturbed you, even with all the continuous punches and kicks, you didn't recall a single scream. In fact, no one said anything. 

You understood that not everyone appreciated her odd chants and offerings, hell, you didn't even understand it properly either. To be brought so close to death because of that was obviously undeserved. Something could've been done to have prevented things from getting wildly out of control. The blame you kept shovelling onto yourself was suffocating, burying you. What sort of girlfriend simply observes as her lover gets knocked to the floor and attacked barbarically by a crazy girl bearing an overwhelming amount of anger? You felt bad for Shauna, but you couldn't excuse this. 

"You're thinking so… loud," the injured girl stuttered and coughed between the broken words, a slight delight in her voice. 

Lottie stirred, her eyes slowly opening - adjusting to the swells preventing them from working how they usually would. She had been laid on her side, toward you, thus you didn't neglect a single thing, panic immediately kicking now that she was awake. 

"No no, don't try to move or get up, or anything," You commanded, shakily. 

Underneath the wounds, Lottie's features were calm and gentle, a small smile grew on her lips despite the pain such a minor action caused. 

"Is Shauna, is she, okay?" Lottie mumbled earnestly, never losing the melancholy grin. 

You stared at her in utter shock; bewildered that Shauna was who she was most concerned about. 

"Lottie, do you not remember what she did to you?" You whispered, loudly, mimicking a frustrated shout without actually raising your voice. 

"She needed… it, we both know… that." 

"But you nearly died! I don't care what she needs, we all need some kind of release." You spat, maybe too selfishly, "You didn't even fight back."

"Trust me… everything's okay, I'm happy about what Shauna did, please don't worry," She soothed, her calm tone juxtaposing your desperate one perfectly. "My wounds will heal and I have you, by my side, taking care of me, and that's a wonderful thing."

Lottie raised a trembling hand, ignoring your wide-eyed pleas to stay still and comfortable, cupping your face tenderly. Consequently, you broke out in a flush and tears began to prick, threatening to spill, something that you couldn't permit. 

"I'm so sorry, Lottie." You sniffled, heartbroken at the affection you were receiving from someone who needed it more than you, "You shouldn't be putting any sort of strain on yourself in a critical condition."

A simple laughter blessed your ears, though confusing, it was the first time in months you'd heard such authentic cheeriness. You felt it was inappropriate considering the dreadful scenario, yet, your endearing girlfriend's content joy was contagious - your own wobbling lips contorted upwards, smiling through the tears. 

"Although I am in a lot of pain…it's only temporary, who knows what could've happened… if Shauna's intense feelings were left to manifest any longer," Lottie explained, stroking away any wet drops that spilled over the edge of your eyes. It was a miracle that she could even spot them. 

"I get why - you did it but, my god Lottie I hate seeing you hurt, can we just agree that it will never happen again, please." 

The brunette sensed a newfound comprehension present in you, alongside a more relaxed approach to the conversation, which she appreciated. She didn't want you upset, it was the last thing she wanted, however, she had needed you to see where she was coming from. 

"I love you a lot," You sighed, running your hands through her tangled hair, then leaning over to kiss her atop her head. 

"I can't… promise anything but I assure you that I will be more careful in the future," She admitted wholeheartedly, her honesty charmed you, hence why you placed another gentle kiss, this time, on her aforementioned palm that was cupping your skin; apparently it was stuck to you since Lottie hadn't moved it once. 

"I love you too," she added cheesily, the muscles in her mouth pushing the limit now as she beamed brightly. 

There was a lot of relief radiating off of you, the tremor in your hardworking hands settled, a detail that your girlfriend noticed, prompting her to squirm into a new position on one of the few man-made beds that the old cabin possessed. Her back carefully pressed into the feather mattress and the nested blankets surrounding her. 

You assumed that Lottie was ready to drift back to sleep, believing that this was your cue to leave, you prepared yourself to face the rest of the girls lingering around the cabin. Due to the sheer amount of time you'd spent absent from the group tending to Lottie, you hadn't experienced any confrontation from Shauna after what she did, sparking anxiety. You'd have to see her eventually. 

"Don't," Lottie spoke up, "You need to rest just as much as I do."

The compassion compelled you to obey her recommendation. She was right, you were exhausted. 

"Okay, I'm not going anywhere. I'm not getting in there with you either. You need the space," You compromised, regarding the bed's limited width, you weren't about to force her out of it for your own sake. 

"You're always welcome," Lottie chuckled, her eyes shutting, "Lay your head on my chest if that's what you'd like."

Actually, you were quite fond of the idea, your arms were set on the edge of the mattress and your head snuggled into her chest, not with too much force as you'd rather she wasn't hurt extra. Although your knees never got a break from digging into the rough floor, you were satisfied enough to let the desire for slumber overcome you - entwined with Lottie, your body heats mixed together to create a warm, loving haze that clouded around just the two of you, a suitable protection guiding you both into a deep, safe sleep.

[stirthewaters]

Twenty Dollars

SUMMARY: Dared to make Wednesday flustered by Enid, you try your best to flirt with her, unaware of the fact that she knows far better how to break you instead.

WARNINGS: None, this is pretty much fluff.

______________________________________________________________

Nevermore in the afternoon is probably the favorite part of your day. Once school is over, you can hang out with your girlfriend and your friends, and typically even though you don't really do anything other than chat, it's pretty fun.

Unfortunately, your girlfriend, the Wednesday Addams, prefers to stay inside and maybe watch a movie or discuss philosophy rather than chat with your friend group.

So instead of hanging out with Enid and your friends in the quad, you're with Wednesday in Ophelia Hall, trying to get her flustered as part of a secret bet.

Earlier, Enid had bet twenty dollars that you couldn't make Wednesday flustered or blushy at all. Confident in your amazing skills as a girlfriend, you accepted, and now you're hanging around the raven haired girl as she types at her novel.

Clearly physical touch isn't her soft spot, since whenever you try to hold her hand, her expression doesn't change in the least. She hasn't blushed once in your relationship, so the bet you've accepted has started to become a personal goal.

"If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?"

"Are you a triangle? Cause you're acute!"

"Excuse me, but I think I dropped something. My JAW!"

The cheesy pickup lines you're currently smothering her with seem to do little to no damage as she frowns.

"If you say another nauseatingly cliche pickup line one more time, I'll tear my ears off as well as yours," Wednesday deadpans, not taking her eyes off of her typewriter.

"Hey, it's not my fault that you're so pretty," you shrug, smirking a bit. "Come over here so I can compliment you to your face."

Wednesday rolls her eyes.

"Your frivolous attempt at flirting is as transparent as the glass I'm considering cutting you with. If you're trying to fluster me, it won't work."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you scoff, wrapping your arms around her neck gently. "Come on, admit it. My flirting skills are actually pretty decent."

"If by finding somewhat nauseatingly overused lines on the internet, then yes, you're somewhat above average," she turns to glare at you, which is clearly an awkward position since you're arms are wrapped around her neck. "Now take your arms away from me or I'll dislocate them."

Somewhat hurt, you pull away.

"Whatever," you sniff, folding your arms. "If you think that my flirting skills are trash then I'd like to see what you've got. From the way you're dismissing mine you must have some pretty nice ones, hmm?"

"Is that so?" she deadpans, eyes still fixed on the typewriter. "Or are you sure you're just not disappointed you can't ruffle my feathers?"

"No, I'm serious," you say, leaning against the desk so you can look her in the eye. "Surely the great Wednesday Addams isn't being a chicken?"

Wednesday pauses to look at you, her gaze challenging with only a hint of murderous intent. "Are you sure you want to go down that road, Y/N? Because if I make half the effort you do in flirting, you'll be wishing that you will physically incapable of blushing ever again."

You shrug. "I'm not seeing any effort, actually."

Wednesday stands, walking over to you. Even though she hasn't been your girlfriend for very long, she knows almost everything that can fluster you, from the slightest bit of physical touch to the right words that will make you blush. The observant Addams has carefully kept count of every single time that your cheeks have gone red or you've fidgeted with your shirt, without fail, and with a smirk, she knows that you'll be a mess after this is over.

"Is that so?" She murmurs, standing opposite you. She wraps a hand around your waist to pull you closer to her, staring you down.

Your breath hitches. It's as if she's been planning this. Realizing that this isn't a battle you're going to win, you curse under your breath, as she begins pressing all the right buttons.

"Because I think that in reality you're weak," she says, takin the other hand to tilt your chin upwards, forcing you to look her in the eye as her powerful gaze holds you captive. "And I know perfectly well how to break you."

Unable to speak, your breathing accelerates as she pulls you even closer, stroking your hair as she begins to smirk.

"And it's clear here that you've picked a fight you can't win." She whispers in your ear. Her hand on your jaw is sending goosebumps down your spine and it feels like you can feel everything there is to feel. You sputter a protest, but she shushes you with that same smirk she continues to wear; fully knowing of how much this is affecting you. Unable to pull away, she closes the small gap as she kisses you, eyes fluttering closed as she kisses you softly but firmly.

Heart pounding, your eyes widen as you hesitantly kiss her back until she pulls away. You're blushing now. Obviously. Your face is one whole shade of red.

"There it is. Now admit that I was right, and maybe I'll kiss you again," Wednesday says, a bit mischievously. Stammering and caught in her arms, you realize that clearly you've lost the bet at this point. With a small sigh of defeat, you lower your head.

"Y-you were right."

"Mhm. And don't ever forget it," she smirks again, cupping your face in her hand as she goes in for another kiss, using the other hand to accept the twenty dollars that Thing sneakily delivers from Enid.

[dummie-writes]

the party walkers

self insert ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* school bus graveyard

words: 4.08k

previous part: a demon inside of my skin

next part: over the horizon, somewhere

note: woah hey I'm back so soon whattt, anyway. sorry that chapter was kinda more scene setting, we only got to interact with the group at the very end 😭 also, I'd like to say this is gonna be pretty self indulgent for the time being bc idk where I want the story to go 🧍‍♀️keep in mind that while I'm trying to keep it gender neutral, at times y/n may lean more feminine,and this is because I am more feminine. please enjoy :3

ii. a rescue mission

again, there's a tension. there has been for the past minute you've been sitting here. after telling them your name and settling down cross legged on the classroom floor, you kinda expected some questions or something. that blonde kid and ashlyn are still having that weird little staring contest. it's as if everyone wants to start, but no one knows how. like you've passed a test, but they aren't sure if you'll actually pass their little assignment or whatever. you were having nightmares, and eerily, the blonde knew to ask you about them even when you hadn't said you'd been having them. so, they were also having nightmares. at least, from what you could infer. 

“um, okay,” a sandy brunette boy with glasses begins. he's not looking directly at you, but instead at your bag beside you in a spaced out manner, his thumbs tapping the wooden pencil in his hand. “nightmares, monsters, right? what kind of monsters?”

     “like, gray ones? they're kinda big? sharp hands?” you say, still somewhat confused. a robotic voice comes from next to you, and as you turn your head, the tallest of the group has his phone held up, the screen facing you. on it, in black lettering, it asks “humanish?”. you blink, and then nod at it. not much of a talker, apparently. the girl who originally spoke to you, sitting next to Tyler and who you've quickly remembered is his twin sister, though you don't remember her name from the beginning of the year, opens her mouth to speak, but then ashlyn cuts her off. 

     “well, that's weird. what notes do you have on savannah?”

     a second of slight whiplash from the subject change, everyone (except for tyler) gives the freckled girl a weird look. they hadn't expected it either, but they aren't going to interfere. she has a colder tone - not entirely mean, but like she knows how to stick to decisions that she makes. actually, you'd seen her before - this town wasn't where you grew up, but you'd been here since middle school. ashlyn always kept to herself, for what rare times you did see her. the only words that you'd really ever heard from her were “excuse me” “thanks” or just glowering. you didn't know when she got all these friends. 

     you also had friends - unfortunately, they weren't really happy with you at the moment. with the whole “several hours or so in hell” situation, you hadn't really been the greatest companion. one too many times had you had to stay home from a group putting, or just slept straight through. they had a right to be upset with you, especially when you wouldn't communicate and were crabby. 

     “again, not really my fault! what am I supposed to tell them? that I'm bleeding out in the bathroom all night?” but, you know, whatever. 

     you pulled out your notebook, reading through the few notes you had written down since the start of the group project. you wouldn't argue right now. maybe they were just weird, maybe they were all in the same boiling pot you were. either way, the six of them didn't seem open to talking about it, which means another lonely night in the bathroom for you. 

     not for them, though. as you tried to be as quiet as possible on the cold, tiled floor, and then moving to the shower so the blood from your back would trickle down the drain instead, they would have a rather rambunctious evening. 

     “tyler, seriously. if they're here too, we need to get them!”

     “that isn't a risk we should be taking!”

     ash cringed just slightly at the volume of tyler's voice, and picked at the peeling fabric of the bus seat she was in. this argument had been going on for about an hour, stopping them from any sort of progress in terms of supplies, information, or anything, really. aiden was seated in the seat across from herself, foot dangling as he rhythmically tapped the seat, smiling as he usually did. his red eyes swung back and forth between the aggressors, not saying much except for the offhand comment or joke. 

     “guys, what if it was one of us? what if it was taylor?”

     “fields, don't even think about using that kind of an argument. it's cheap, and that's my sister. not a random classmate - who, by the way, might not actually even be here! they could just be having bad dreams! but, no, i’m the crazy one, right?”

    ben shifted uncomfortably, tensing and releasing his fists. tyler was defensive, that much was for sure. truth be told, he in fact did not actually like the idea of possibility leaving you stranded somewhere. it wasn't moral. but he was right, he knew he was right. they didn't have the actual information needed, the possibile required resources, and he wouldn't put taylor in any sort of unnecessary danger like that. not when you lived almost four blocks away from where they already were. despite not saying so, ashlyn agreed almost entirely. she wouldn't lose her entire team saving one person. at the very least, not until they were positive you were actually I'm this other dimension. 

     “remind me again why we didn't just ask them if they were here?” aiden questions, his cheeks rising a little as he stared at tyler in an almost dare to reply. 

     “we won't even tell our parents what's going on. if they're just having nightmares, they'll think we're crazy or on drugs. and in that case, who knows what they'll tell the school, or the police,” ash replies in an even tone, raising an eyebrow as her eyes meet aiden's, and then to taylor as she speaks again. 

     “but it isn't right. you know it's not right. and there was that unexplained scream you heard at the hotel, ash,” taylor points out, throwing her arms out as she paces back and forth. her hair was starting to tangle from all the moment, and a stern look in her eyes told everyone this isn't something she would let go of. at least not thus far. 

     ashlyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and looking down. a quiet pooled in the bus as the ginger thought through the possibilities and risks. taylor was right. they couldn't just leave you wherever you were to rot, possibly die. even if she wasn't a people person, she wasn't a monster. she couldn't let any phantoms hurt you or anyone else in good spirits, that would just be horrible and wrong. she knew tyler wouldn't mind getting you either, if it wasn't such a huge risk, and a major liability if you actually weren't there. 

 

   a small glow emitted from a couple feet away from her, looking up to Ben's phone screen as her hand slid to hold up her head. “we need more info”.

     logan tapped his foot tentatively, his face soft but unagreeable. he had been making a more logical argument, but was emotion driven nonetheless in his words. having another person would be an advantage. it would come with its own challenges, yes - explaining why they had another person hanging out with them to ashlyn's already suspicious parents, keeping track of an entire other human being, the extra general supplies - but having another person who wasn't a phantom on their side was also a benefit. another pair of eyes, hands, ears. more supplies could be carried. 

     not to mention, you are not just a video game character. you're an actual human being, with a life, with sentience. in the end, that's the defining factor. they can't abandon you. but they won't come looking for you without being sure you'll be there when they search. 

     “this is a stupid argument because we aren't actually arguing about saving them, but about when.” 

     taylor looks up to ash, lightening from how upset she was previously, and her shoulders beginning to drop. an unspoken understanding passes through them as everyone else mumbles something of agreement. 

     “and how the hell are we supposed to pull that off? do any of you even have their phone number? we didn't add them to any group chats because we were still in our own world when class ended,” tyler huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back into his chair, a sour expression in the creases of his face and eyebrows. 

     “I could run over there,” 

     everyone stared at Aiden for a second as he smiles in excitement before tyler thwacks him in the back of the head. not hard, but audibly. aiden’s mouth opens slightly, his smile unwavering but now wider as he scoffs in hubris.. “that's not happening, you moron.”

     that next morning is a hard one for you. for one, trying to clean that horrible slash with isopropyl alcohol isn't working. it's making things worse, in fact; the flesh around it is red and dry, it throbs when you move too much, and every so often, it'll crack further down your back because you moved too quickly. not to mention, it hurts like a bitch when you do so. not cleaning it runs the risk of infection, but honestly, you're too exhausted to care anymore. your mind is messed up, clearly. talking to a psychologist isn't an option, you'd get put in an asylum before you could finish your sentence. this was just your life now. and you would properly clean it later. 

     walking into class, you felt the jab of a finger at your back. jumping, you turn around to give a dirty look at whoever was giving you a difficult time, before realizing that it was aiden, from your group project. you take a breath and smile. “hey, how are you?”

     despite it being a very normal question that usually results in a “im fine”, aiden clark is not a normal person (to be fair, you aren't at this point either), and answers with a much more winded explanation. 

     “oh! I'm doing pretty great, haha. last night's homework wasn't all too difficult or anything, and since you're having trouble with your work, you can copy off mine if you'd like. speaking of last night, how'd you sleep? you know, with sleeping issues and everything? sorry about my friends yesterday, they can be a bit argumentative. it think it's funny lol.”

     at this point, ben, who you remember now as being introduced as aiden's cousin and is walking behind, looks at you, nodding and giving a small wave. you, in return, smile widely at him. 

     “well, aren't you just a ray of fucking sunshine or something,” you hear an irritated, grumpy voice from next to you, and then a yelp, followed by “ow! don't pinch me!” and a “then be nice!”

     turning to taylor and tyler, the long haired of the two smiles in a nervous apology. “sorry, he's always kinda cranky in the morning. he didn't mean that, I swear.” as taylor tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and chuckles softly, you notice she has a soft sparkle in her eye. that, and the fact that she has been nothing but kind to you in the entirety of the while you've interacted with th pushes her to be your favorite for the time being. 

     “it's okay, i'm not all too great for the first couple hours too. coffee helps, would you like some? do you have a cup or something?” you're being a little over-nice on purpose, mainly to make him feel bad for being a bit of an ass- but it's a genuine offer. he wasn't downright cruel, just a little mean. and the eye bags on top of his cheeks tell you that taylor wasn't lying about him not being a morning person. 

     tyler scowls, wrinkling his nose and glancing at the thermos you have on your desk. it's your favorite color, and the metal is warm with the creamy, light brown coffee inside. for a second, his face drops a little, and he looks like he's genuinely considering your offer, before rolling his eyes scoffing. “I'm good.”

     rough start for a group that hasn't entirely accepted you as part of their project, but he didn't cuss you out a throw a shoe at you, so you'll count it as a win! you don't have much time to process, because you turn your head again and jump at the bright write paper, half an inch from your face. holding it is a pale hand, and connected to that hand is aiden, wide eyed. actually, that might just be his face. you're starting to think he looks like that more than he doesn't. oh, yeah, actually, that's the homework he was talking about. you had only gotten a couple questions done last night before giving up, and trying to comfort yourself with hot chocolate before midnight arrived. 

     aiden was still looking at you expectantly, so you gingerly pinched the paper, smiling at him again as you took out your own unfinished work, and compared them side by side so you could at least not down most of them before mr. thomas got to class. as you did so, a bright yellow post-it note caught your attention, and in messy handwriting, it reads:

     “what are your nightmares about????”

     your eyebrows knit themselves, and glancing up at aiden, he's already looking at you. he turned away to talk to ben about something almost immediately, but it makes you wonder if he knows something you don't. you peel it off, filling out a few of the questions before glancing at the note again, and flipping it over to scrawl down your response of “why do you want to know so badly”. instead of a blank back, you find a phone number, which you can only theorize belongs to aiden. snatching up your phone, you pat the number in, and then hurry to finish what of the homework you can. after filling out what you think will get you a passing grade, you roll up the work and tap the blond on the shoulder with it. 

     he stops mid sentence to turn toward you, smile widely, take his homework back, and then continues talking to ben. all just as mr. thomas walks through the classroom door.

     actually, the fact that he gave you that post it note makes you giggle a little. it looks like an ad for a psychic. you nonchalantly doodle and scribble on your paper during the lecture, nearly falling asleep a couple times before you're all dismissed to sit in groups. you pause for a moment, glancing to your old group. brandy looks in your direction, smiling and standing up to walk over. oh wait what no don't -

     “hey! listen, so, about yesterday,” she whispered speedily, a note book in her right hand, tapping her pen on the cover with her left. you purse your mouth, nodding. awkward. “I'm sorry if I was being mean. I failed this class last year, and I can't repeat it again. I know that's harsh, but I'm not taking any chances.”

     a silent, uncomfortable nod and pause later, she continues. “I copied down a bunch of my notes for you, because I hope you can still pass. I'm sorry if I made you mad. I'll just, go, um, yeah.”

     a second later, you're holding a few pieces of lined paper to your chest and watching her run off and back to her group. a sinkhole opens in your chest, and you bite the inside of your cheek. would ashlyn's group be expecting you? would they talk to the teacher about getting you removed too, since they might not have wanted to fail as terribly as they already were? your eyes find their circle, where three pairs of eyes are looking to yourself, and there's a large enough gap by taylor's seat for your own. 

a soft grin presses onto your cheeks, relief emanating from you when you sigh, grabbing your chair to haul it over. at least you had a solid group for your project now, even if it was going to fall apart. and, even if your group members were a tad, let's say, bold in how long they stared at you for. not in an entirely creepy way, but in a puzzled way, like you were something to be figured out. 

     “um, he gave you his phone number, right?” logan confirmed, pushing his glasses up his nose with his index finger while he spoke. after the glint from the ceiling light left his glasses, you realized his eyes weren't entirely blue, but had a twinge of turquoise to them. or aqua. something like that, either way, they weren't a strict blue. you acknowledge his question by pulling your phone from out of your jean pocket, shaking it a little. “yep, it's all right here.”

     “good! be-”

     “we have something we should really talk about with you. a few questions.”

     “oh my fucking - you're making it sound like we're a cult.”

     “aren't we kinda?? at this point lmao??”

     “aiden, you're not helping.”

     “excuse me?” your features are slightly scrunched in both confusion and amusement - you're assuming this has something to do with the whole weird “what's in your nightmares” note, and on its own this exchange might actually kinda freak you out. but the way tyler looks like he's about to pop a vein has you beaming and nearly laughing. not to mention, aiden is just kinda, weird. a bit creepy too, but mostly weird. 

     “hey idiots, shut up! it was your guys’ decision to do it this way, and now you won't even talk with them about it properly!” tyler gives everyone a dirty look, noticeably glancing at ben and then not glaring at him. ben has a flat expression, and just glances at aiden, who is already chuckling to himself and looking back at him. 

     “ahem,” ashlyn clears her throat, pointing her eyes at you. as you turn to face her back, tyler huffs, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat, glaring daggers at you even though you. haven't actually done anything. “so, these nightmares.”

     it's interesting that she's the one to bring this all to a head, after specifically dodging the subject yesterday in class. 

     “tell me about them.”

     when she puts it like that, it feels a lot more individual. you haven't really talked a whole bunch to ashlyn banner, even when you guys have been paired together. she was sorta… floaty. 

     “well, uh, what do you want to know?” you feel stupid for asking, but they were the ones who put you on the spot. and who are also glaring down at you, mostly in a friendly way. you think, at least. it's starting to get a bit stuffy. 

     “what color are the skies?” 

     “kinda, red. typically. but I feel like that's sort of normal. for nightmares.”

     this was weird. this was so entirely strange, actually. maybe you were too sleep deprived to actually notice, but the fact that they're dissecting you like a bug isn't normal. especially when they keep sharing glances like that! 

     “okay, hold on. what's going on? I think I should get to know why you guys are trying to scoop my soul apart with your eyes or something,” you stab a dirty look at tyler, who rolls his eyes and looks away. the rest kinda lose their gaze, sights now wandering the classroom- of course, this is excepting aiden, who's still staring at you. oh well. you kinda expected that at this point. 

     ashlyn gives a low sigh, clenching her teeth together and crossing her arms. her fingers tap on her jacket, and aiden leans over to smoosh himself into her shoulder- which she seems irritated by, but doesn't do anything to push him off because he starts speaking. 

     “I don't think we're getting anywhere with guessing games guys.” his eyelids are low, and he puts his hands behind his head, crossing his legs to put them on ben's lap like he's relaxing. that's when ash gives him a hard shove with her other arm, and he lands swiftly on the floor, drawing a giggle out of taylor. “hey! I'm right! don't push me :(.”

     “I hate to say it, but we might need to be just straightforward here,” tyler interjected, glancing at ash. “that's not a good idea, wh-”

     “hello! hi! I'm still here!” you interrupt, your palms facing upward out you wave your arms around. disbelief crosses your face, and you're about to laugh because, what the fuck? what do they know, and what are they not telling you - and why are they being so rude about it! “I would appreciate someone being straightforward with me! actually! if my opinion matters at all here!”

     “of course it matters!” taylor responds almost immediately, her shoulders dropping and her eyes becoming soft. ben stops for a second, signing “yes” in consensus. for the first time, logan speaks up, his words muddled together too quickly for you to understand for a second. 

     “yeah okay so theresthislike alternative dimensions thingandwedontactuallyknow what'sgoingonbutwould youhappentoknowhatwe're talkingabou-”

     “dude, breathe, what the fuck,” you answer, eyebrows tilted in more concern than anything else. while logan wasn't the type to talk so quickly he didn't enunciate his sentences, he didn't want to be stopped by any of the group - specifically tyler, who, surprise, you'll never guess, was glaring at him. 

    

     “... did you say alternate dimension?”

     “yeah lol.”

     “and what exactly does he mean by that?”

     “exactly what i, um, said. there's a shift, it starts at midnight, and we're there for seven hours. only seven minutes actually pass, but, uh, no one actually gets any sleep at that point.”

     that is… exactly what your little nightmare issue sounds like. 

     “the red skies, the phantoms-” who you're assuming are those demon things. “-they all match with our little, uh, nightly problem. the only thing that doesn't match up is how on earth you're there too. we know what caused us falling through - but why are you there?” logan asks, and the more he talks, especially about something he knows, the more he seems less shy. tentative, sure, but more confident in his words. it makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach. 

     if he's serious about this, maybe they aren't playing some joke on you- which was already unlikely, but you've gotta cope somehow. if there are who knows how many other people in that little hell hole of an evening, then it isn't only you that you need to worry about, and you can't just hole up in the bathroom if there are others too. 

     “when did you start going?” aiden asks, poking you in the back again so you turn to him. 

     “that night at the hotel after the field trip.”

     “hmmm. anything weird happen?”

     “i mean, I went with my group. and I was kinda lagging behind and got tossed up with another group who was touring some haunted house because the lady thought I was with them.”

     “... what house?”

     “ummmm, seed house? something weird like that? ‘s’ somethi-”

     “the sorrel weed house. “

     that time, ashlyn didn't ask, but stated. it was a ghost of her usual, stronger tone. 

    

     “you must have gotten tossed up with our group.”

     the cold bathroom tile that you sat on was uncomfortable when you awoke that night, but the air was chilled with excitement. you were getting busted out. you'd have to do the more difficult part of maneuvering out of the house with what ashlyn and her group called “phantoms”, as well as trying to grab some stuff on your way out. blankets, first aid supplies, food, bags- anything you could really get your hands on. but escape was everyone's first priority. which is why your ear is pressed so hard to the cheap wooden door, and your breathing is as quiet as you can force it to be. you're listening for footsteps. or tapping. or whatever other noises might hint to otherworldly existence. 

     you hadn't been out of this bathroom in your entire time here. had you been hungry? yeah. but… what else were you supposed to do? you didn't exactly have a group to watch your back while you grabbed a lunchable from the kitchen. 

     nothing. nothing for the past ten minutes. the others should be here in about twenty. that's how long you have. so, with that in mind, you focus on your first location: your bedroom, where your phone, backpack, and blankets were. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

that's right, get part 1'd. hope you enjoyed

next part: over the horizon, somewhere

[thousand-winters]

I like to think Hunter and Eber had a pretty okay relationship when Hunter was younger and before Belos put the indoctrination in overdrive. Like young Hunter loved to hold Eber and touch his fur because he’s soft and the texture was nice, Eber also liked to show off beast keeping tricks to him but then Eber noticed how uncomfortable Hunter made Darius and decided even though Hunter was an alright kid, he cares more about his best friend than some toddler he doesn’t really know. So he started ignoring Hunter and eventually growling at him which as you can imagine confuses and hurts Hunter and unfortunately as Eber later sadly concludes when everything is over with, pushes Hunter deeper into Belos’s arms

Ow.

I usually figure that Belos kept Hunter pretty isolated and it didn't matter much when Hunter was a kid because he was being trained as a scout along with everyone else, so there are chances people didn't even know he was Belos' nephew, even if it was quite unusual for a powerless kid to be in there.

The possibility that he did interact with them is painful tho... I could imagine Eber being good with kids because they know how to be patient and they're also used to beasts here and there being somewhat rowdy so a little kid? Is nothing compared to that. All the other Coven Heads were NOT interested in entertaining a little kid or they were probably kinda creepy and Hunter didn't want to get close to them (looking at you, Terra), so he probably would have started approaching Eber more than anybody else, and unfortunately for him, that means Darius as well.

I can't imagine Darius did anything different than what he did later on, aka, simply ignore him and not give him the time of day, which he could excuse very well because he's a Coven Head, he has his responsibilities and he can't just spend his time entertaining a kid that isn't even his, least of all the Emperor's nephew who presumably should be well taken care of. Technically he's royalty.

But of course, Eber of all people wouldn't buy the "oh, I'm just not paid to be a babysitter" and would notice something else is up with Darius' reactions and as bubbly as the kid is, it's not like he knows him personally so between his friend/sibling and a random kid... well. Eber keeps his loyalties.

I'm thinking he might not have even intended to be that hostile initially but say, maybe when Hunter officially became the Golden Guard, Darius was particularly tense for obvious reasons and Hunter approached which made Eber react out of instinct and... well. It worked, Hunter backed off and Darius looked a little calmer and Eber kinda didn't think about it further than that.

I know the technical reason why Hunter points out Darius and Eber in his palismen logs and none of the others probably has to do with them being the only Coven Heads that had been properly introduced at that point, plus the rebels, but it's sad to think too he always noticed them in particular even then because they were the nicest anyway even if they were avoiding him like the plague. He knows they don't want him around, but they're still the closest thing he had to a friendly presence around, which is just depressing but what about his life isn't anyway...

[rollinouttahere-writes]

@stuff6969fuckyou Also idk if two is too much but maybe (Dululu) Kuro Dark chocolate 12 & 6 for chronic illness reader maybe he kidnaps them and a bit of time passes idk or u could just do 6

Hey, so I only did the second one because I actually only write Luffy platonically. I hope you don't mind and that you enjoy this one at least!

Yandere Captain Kuro x GN!Reader

952 words

Prompts:

I know the timing isn’t ideal, but if I don’t do this now I feel like I’ll die.

I thought that going somewhere nice would have been the best thing to do today, but being at home with you has been better than any fancy dinner could have hoped to be.

With another day of tutoring Miss Kaya completed, you leisurely made your way to the foyer so you could leave. Even with how sweet and mild-mannered the girl was, you always felt exhausted by the end of the day. An unsurprising side effect of your poor health. Just being on your feet for too long was enough to leave you longing for a hot bath and your bed.

Even though you’ve been ill for most of your life, your condition seemed to be worsening as of late. There have been a handful of instances where you were forced to spend the night at the manor because of how faint you became before you could so much as make it to the front door. It was more than a little embarrassing for you, but Kaya insisted that it wasn’t a problem.

Not to mention the fact that Klahadore would consistently go out of his way to make your stay as comfortable as possible. He would run you a bath without needing to be asked, fetch clean clothes for you, and check in frequently to assess your health status.

His doting on you was a touching gesture.

“Excuse me, (Y/N)?”

Before you could leave, the soft voice of Klahadore rang out behind you. You look over your shoulder and spot him approaching you from a nearby hallway. You offer a small smile and nod, “Yes, Klahadore? Did you need something?”

���If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to speak with you in private for a moment.” His professional smile did nothing to indicate what this private matter could be about.

“Of course. Is something wrong?” The fact that he wanted to keep whatever this was away from any prying eyes made you anxious. What could be so serious that it could only be shared between you two?

“Not at all. Rest assured, everything is fine.” Klahadore’s words helped to ease your worries, but still lacked any real explanation for the subject of the coming conversation. He stationed himself at your side and held out his arm for you to hold onto, “Now, if you will come with me, I would prefer to discuss this urgently.”

Urgently? Worry bubbled in your chest, but you kept it to yourself this time. Gratefully, you latched onto his arm to steady yourself. The steps he took were slow and precise, making it easier for you to keep up with him.

The room he wished to have this discussion in wasn’t far away, lucky for you. Even still, you were beginning to feel lightheaded and clung onto Klahadore tighter to keep yourself balanced. He led you to a sofa in the sitting room and carefully eased you onto it. As concerned as you were, you couldn’t help but be somewhat soothed by how gentle he was being with you. Certainly if this was something bad he wouldn’t be so kind to you.

Klahadore readjusted his glasses with his palm before lowering himself onto one knee before you. Now that he was more at eye level with you, he took your hands into his own. The intimacy of the action made your face feel hot.

“I know the timing isn’t ideal, but if I don’t do this now I feel like I’ll die.” His thumbs lightly stroked your knuckles, and you could only stare in shock and anticipation of what was about to be said. “I must confess that I’ve grown quite fond of you since you began tutoring Miss Kaya. You’re such an intelligent and insightful individual, and I heavily admire those traits in a person. It’s because of that that I brought you here to ask: Would you allow me to court you?”

Your jaw dropped and it felt like your heart was going to pound out of your chest. Admittedly, your own fondness towards him was more than platonic, but you never could have guessed that those feelings were mutual. You averted your eyes and squeezed his hands as your mind scrambled to form proper sentences.

Of course you were going to accept, you would have to be insane not to. Klahadore was such a kind hearted and helpful man. Not to mention handsome and a perfect gentleman. Only good things could come from this.

“Yes, I would love that,” your response was simple and to the point to avoid potentially embarrassing yourself from tripping over your words.

“Excellent, I’m relieved to hear that.” Klahadore smiled at you before pressing a kiss to one of your wrists. 

You giggled and were forced to look away yet again. Yes, you’re sure that you made the right choice. Someone like him would most certainly treat you well.

—

How naive you were.

As the man that you now knew to be Kuro cradled your sickly form in his lap and forced more blue tea past your lips, you could only sit there and resign yourself to your fate. 

Kuro didn’t pull the tea cup away until it was empty. After setting it aside, he gently gripped your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye as he spoke, “I thought that going somewhere nice would have been the best thing to do today, but being at home with you has been better than any fancy dinner could have hoped to be.”

The sentence was punctuated with a kiss, one that you returned because you learned quickly that not doing so would always end poorly. 

There must have been signs before that could have told you who this man really was, but you were too blinded by how charming you thought Kuro was to see them. Now you would spend the rest of your life paying for that mistake.

[goldsainz]

POPSTAR!Y/N — series.

pairing: harry styles x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: in which you spend (for the first time) harry’s birthday together.

warnings: a very brief mention of liam hemsworth

NOTE: i have not written an actual piece for harry in sooo long… it’s been too long actually, so excuse me if i’m rusty. this also includes some social media so it is truly packed with everything. HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY HARRY!!! ❤️

[ word count: 966 ]

It was the first time Y/N would spend Harry’s birthday as a couple. It was as exciting as it was nerve wracking. 

She loved surprises, but Liam, her ex, didn't, so everytime it was his birthday it resulted in a somewhat plain party and gift, and while Y/N was mindful of his choices it was clear he didn't share the same joy on the occasion. Now, she had a boyfriend who matched her excitement and loved a good surprise.

It took time, some compromise was needed on her part with her manager, but still you both made it work. Because she lived in New York and Harry in Los Angeles, it meant he thought he would spend his 29th birthday without his girlfriend, and that just simply wouldn't do. Especially since he had booked the Palm Spring shows on a bit of a late notice, at least for her schedule that with an upcoming album was filling by the second.

This all leads to having to hide in his dressing room behind a couch, all cramped up against the wall, making a great effort not to make it noticeable that there was someone there. Y/N was grateful that Jeff, Harry’s manager, took care of her bags, it would surely ruin the surprise if out of nowhere there were some random bags in the dressing room.

The wait for Harry wasn't long, thankfully her legs didn't suffer from any cramps. She was suddenly thankful for all those breathing lessons she had to have, since now her breathing could be low, preventing the surprise from being ruined. All of his gifts would have to be given later or else he would become suspicious of them appearing in his dressing room, so for now, the only surprise he would be able to have was her presence.

She had to contain herself when the sound of a door opening made its way through the room, more so when it was Harry and his stylist, Harry Lambert, who was surely in on the surprise.

“I’ll be back in a bit with the outfits,” Harry Lambert tells Harry, and even though Y/N couldn't see them, she knew Harry was furrowing his brows since this was not the standard procedure, according to Jeff. 

“Sure.” His words came out in a suspicious tone, but if he had any worries he didn’t voice them. She heard Lambert close the door, and waited for the moment Harry sat on the couch.

When he flopped ungracefully on it, a couple of seconds went by with nothing happening. His head was thrown over the back of the couch, though his eyes were closed, which made it perfect for Y/N to place her hands over them. He jerked under her touch, which made her quickly whisper to his ear, “Guess who?”

Harry immediately turned around at her voice, a huge smile now plastered on his face. She walked around the couch making him stand up and wrap his arms around her waist, lifting his girlfriend and spinning them around, his face buried in her neck. 

Her laugh was a melody to his ears, he kept his tight hold on her, refusing to let go now that she was here. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, still holding onto her with her legs wrapped around his torso.

“It’s your birthday!” Y/N says, “You didn't think I would really miss it, did you?” 

Harry’s face is priceless, and she wished she had placed a secret camera so this moment could remain frozen in time. 

“I thought you weren't able to come.” He exhaled, still in shock by the fact that she was truly there with him.

“It took a bit of convincing, SNL will have to wait, tough.” She confessed, making Harry laugh in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you.”

“Well, believe me.” 

Harry shakes his head once more, gripping her tighter when he remembers something, “You know, I still haven’t gotten my birthday kiss.”

“Oh, excuse me Mr. Styles, that is just unacceptable.” Harry can’t even respond because she just grabs his face and kisses him.

Their kiss is full of yearning, the weeks they spent apart getting to them. Y/N’s hands make their way to his newly cut hair, which makes him groan into the kiss. They only break apart to stare at the other, their breaths mingling together. 

“I should give you 29 kisses,” She says, making her boyfriend frown.

“Only 29?” He pouts, his voice holding a slight whine.

“As many as the birthday boy would like.” She whispers extremely close to his lips.

A sharp knock breaks them out of their lovey-dovey bubble, which only makes Harry groan.

“Hate to separate the lovebirds, but he needs to be prepped!” Lambert exclaims, and after a beat of silence he speaks again, “You still have a show tonight Harry.”

“You don’t say!” He shouts back, finally opening the door to let his stylist and staff in. 

Y/N just throws herself on the couch, making herself comfortable. 

“Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just here to enjoy the show.” She says teasingly to some staff, they just laugh. 

Harry turns to her at the sound of her voice, “Will you now?” 

“Of course, just act like I’m not here.”

“Sorry, can’t do, love.” He just shoots her a wink, as he dramatically starts taking off his sweater. She throws her head back in laughter, propping herself to be more comfortable on the couch. 

Harry smiles, feeling himself relax merely by her presence. Though he is sure she has various gifts awaiting for him, Y/N being there with him is the greatest present he could have. Especially knowing she was just as excited to be there with him, as he was.

yourfinsta via insta stories!

liked by ynfan1, ynfan2 and 102,957 others

ynupdates y/n was seen leaving harry style’s concert in palm springs!

view all 1,544 comments

ynfan3 SHE LOOKS SO GOOD

harryfan1 i saw her there! she was with a couple of friends, in the pit but separated from the crowd

↳ ynupdates YOU’RE SO LUCKY!!

↳ harryfan1 IK!!! she’s even more gorgeous irl

ynfan4 i need confirmation they’re together, i can’t live in delusion

user1 Y/N has the best fits! 🤩

harryfan2 i would die if i saw her

↳ ynfan5 same here 😭

[shootinwebs]

Song Inspiration: "Past Tense" by Walt Disco (POV: both, interchanging)

( Spoilers: Hazbin Hotel S1:E2 )

( Content Notes: Valentino behavior / sexual harassment )

Vox's side of the story:

Alastor broke his heart.

Alastor gave a false impression that he liked Vox romantically and/or sexually -- and never made it clear that he didn't.

Alastor didn't communicate his needs or feelings.

Alastor never gave Valentino a chance, was rude to him, and made awful accusations.

Alastor just disappeared one day and never allowed any chance for reconciliation.

Alastor's side of the story:

Vox gaslit him.

Vox respected his boundaries less and less as time went on.

Vox started to change for the worst when he wanted a bigger company / more money -- but especially when he teamed up with Valentino.

Val was a piece of shit who made Alastor uncomfortable, and Vox just brushed that off and made excuses.

Alastor was falling apart at the seams (emotionally, mentally) because of something unrelated to Vox, and it wasn't just Vox who influenced his disappearance.

Vox never really cared about Alastor to begin with.

Alastor feels he is better off never interacting with him again, although the loss of friendship still hurts deeply.

The truth:

Vox did become greedy, but didn't exactly know what he was getting into with Valentino. At least, not at first.

Alastor wasn't great at communicating his boundaries or anything. He instead kept his feelings to himself, until it festered and built up and he blew up at Vox in a non-constructive way.

Vox did indeed gaslight him, when things between them started getting particularly bad.

Alastor never showed any signs that he was interested in Vox in any way outside of friendship.

Val is indeed a piece of shit and made Alastor extremely uncomfortable right off the bat (literally their first interaction, Val made a series of lewd comments about Alastor -- Alastor did actually talk to Vox about this in confidence but Vox brushed it off as Val being "quirky" and that "that's just how he compliments people"... when it was blatant sexual harassment). Vox didn't want to believe it, so by his own guilt over Alastor's dislike of Val and by his own greed, it was easier for Vox to go through the mental gymnastics (and external gaslighting) of believing Alastor was just exaggerating about Val's behavior.

Alastor's disappearance may have been somewhat influenced by the heartbreak he felt to lose Vox as a friend, but it certainly was far from the reason.

Vox loved Alastor. They both loved each other. To the point where they saw each other in their human forms and not as demons. (Though, eventually, Vox may have wanted it to be romantic instead of platonic). Vox cared about him a lot, and this was mutual. They even lived together for years, and Alastor told him "I love you" more than once. The separation was painful for both of them, although Alastor considered their friendship irreparable.

[moodymisty]

Headcanins for Samael's lover being attacked one night? Thankfully Sam is close by when it happens and can react fast, but still.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3]

Author's Note: Gods help the person who decides to attack the lover of who is effectively a prince of hell... I hope these HCs (and a little tiny drabble at the end) are acceptable, anon :3

Relationships: Samael/Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of kidnapping, Canon typical violence, Minor injury, Is fluff including a demon still called fluff? lol

Samael had been aware for quite awhile that you could be used as a potential point of weakness for him, had any demon with the gusto and power wished to irritate, or even attempt to overtake him.

The main denominator that kept them at bay however, was simply that there wasn't many demons out there that could even consider trying to do such a thing, unless they had a death wish. They might accomplish more by simply throwing themselves at him with a rusty sword.

Though perhaps that borderline cockiness is what makes Samael all the more surprised when one does. He wouldn’t say he underestimated his fellow demons of hell, but more so not expecting such a blatantly suicidal act.

He doesn't tolerate when people steal from him.

Normally, this would've served little more than to annoy him; Had they not decided to use you as bait.

When Samael caught sight of you with your wrinkled, torn clothes- bruises and cuts marring your skin, he heard blood pump in his ears.

If only past him could look at him now; So up in arms over a tiny little human. He's willing to kill and maim, for a member of a species he once scoffed at.

For the moment he doesn't necessarily care if you see him like this, all roars and sharp claws.

You, rightfully so, are skiddish for a good while afterwards. Samael uses it as an excuse to unleash a part of him that has always been exceedingly overprotective, but he’s held back. You rarely leave his wingspan. He's always been been irritated whenever you return to your realm and out of his sight, and this only serves to compound those complaints.

This is also the time you learn that demons, or at the very least Samael, do this weird sort of- you'd call it nesting, but it isn't exactly that. But it's oddly similar.

All your things are in one room that you rarely leave, and Samael is content to keep you all bundled up. Figuratively, though with the amount of silks it could be somewhat taken literal as well.

Long after any sort of minor injuries as healed Samael still hovers, and you actually have to try and push back a bit in order to get some breathing room.

You try to do so gently, as much as you enjoy him being so, overtly affectionate in his own odd way, you'd like if you didn't have a massive demon attached to you 24/7.

And you mean attached. He likes to play with your hair, his massive clawed fingers toying with it while you are almost totally obscured by his wingspan.

He seems almost, disappointed however when you want to move away a tad. You feel a little bad and let him hold onto you tightly for just a bit longer.

It maybe be a bit out of character for him, but you can't say it's bad, that's for sure.

"Samael," You groan, attempting to reach for the edge of the bed. Your fingers just can't reach, unable to get purchase and slipping away when you're pulled deeper into the demon's warm grip.

"Let me go, I need to get up."

You don't know what the sound is actually called, but it's this odd mix between a rumble and a purr, that Samael lets out when his chin brushes against your head.

"Last I checked, you have no where you need to leave to." His wings stretch outward for a moment, rolling his shoulders before they return to folding close to his body. As much as you might've enjoyed it at first, your skin is boiling; Samael radiates so much heat it's almost stifling. It doesn't help that his general disposition right now is stifling as well.

You feel his one finger brush over a healing cut against your cheek. He's quite gentle considering everything, even when your cheek shifts as you purse your lips.

"Samael, I am fine. That was days ago. Can I please at least get some fresh air?"

You can hear a grumble in his throat, far less pleased than whatever sound he'd made earlier. But you're looking up at him pleading, trying to wiggle away to get just a smidge of breathing room. He begrudgingly lets you sit upright, loosening his grip. You repay him by cupping his massive face in your hands and giving him a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

"I'm fine, promise. I wouldn't lie if I wasn't." You wouldn't be able to lie to him, but he finds a pleasantry in your uniquely human honesty.

"You are remarkably persuasive," He jokes, loosening his grip more. You shift just far enough away to stretch your arms upward and yawn.

"What a compliment, coming from you~"

[randomwriteronline]

I care if an au or not, Sidorak/Roodaka where the duo are like an evil couple but Roodaka actually likes that dumbass.

The plan was very, very simple.

At the right time: get rid of the fool.

That was it.

Couldn't have been any easier. Truly, it was kind of embarrassing - for him of course, because he was so insignificant in the grand scheme of things that the end of his life was little more than a footnote in her plans, but also for her, because for a Vortixx of her cunning this lack of strategy was frankly laughable.

But she didn't want to expend her energies on coming up with something more complex when she was already so many steps ahead of him; and so she had endured the stupid arrogance with which he tried (failing) to hide his fearful respect of her and his yakking about having played such an important part in her schemes, and she had pretended to enjoy his talks of joining his side much closer as queen of the Visorak like she hadn't been unofficially covering that role ever since the Makuta had first assigned the horde to the two of them, and had faked the slightest interest and deference just so that silly little infatuation he couldn't disguise from her keen eyes would keep on blinding him to her machinations even just a little more.

At the very least, despite being a disastrous egocentric attention hog, he did have enough sense in him to recognize her as the one superior in brawn and brain between the two of them.

And yes, it was... Pleasant, to know he was attracted to her.

It made her sound so disgustingly shallow - like the specter of a lagoon half drained by toxic waste. But it wasn't as though Vortixx were very keen on paying attention to something as trivial as their bodies, with how similar they all looked! It was just not a detail one ever expected to draw any attention!

But that idiot had met plenty of her kind already and would very much keep seeing plenty more, and still continued to stammer specifically when she traced the edge of her chin with a finger when deep in thought, staring intently while holding his breath like he was being subjected to some new kind of torture. And it would have been a lie to say that it didn't make her feel... A little pleased. Mayeb even a little proud.

A little flustered.

Bah. No way. How perfectly foolish.

If she went down this line of thinking she'd risk turning too soft to get him out of the picture.

Which was never going to happen, of course.

Because she was the Visorak queen.

And Sidorak's.

Technically.

Not yet.

Formalities and whatnot.

She always kept that nonsensical notion at a distance, but there was no harm in indulging in the absurd picture it painted - giving her access to whatever chambers the Steltian had previously had all to himself without arousing any suspicion, permitting so many new and exciting ways to get him out of her path to total control... She had no need to disguise it either, since she would have inherited the power from him anyways, but what lousy excuse for an assassination doesn't have a subterfuge or two?

And while she indulged in these silly thoughts, Sidorak presented her plans as proudly as if he'd made them himself (which he always did), but slowly forgot to put his name in front of hers to get as much of the merit as possible.

Oh, he still included himself in her schemings of course. He had to look good, as a king and all.

He was still arrogant, and egocentric, and pompous, and a perfect imbecile; but Roodaka found him a little less eager to throw her under the Ussal crab, and ever more infatuated.

His offers for her to occupy a throne by his own were getting less formal, almost hopeful. He'd started to heat up when she grasped his snout in her hands (why'd she start to do that, by the way? Because seeing his eyes widen and a dopey grin spread lopsidedly on his face was somewhat endearing?) and she'd started to enjoy his renewed attentions and more vocal appreciation of her cunning brilliance.

By now she had him twisted around her claw. She was still planning to get rid of him, of course, but new possibilities had opened up: smitten as he was she could have easily puppeted him around to do her bidding without her needing to lift a finger, and she could have used him as bait or perhaps a distraction in case some hotheaded idiot thought of taking the horde from them... She could have laid back in total safety, pulling the strings from behind him without ever having to worry for her safety! He was so confused by his attraction that he had even agreed to let her do most of planning in his stead, since she was such a tactical genius, and he would have posed in the front to carry out her instructions just like a devoted king should...

Hm.

Hm!

Well. In the end, he might have been more useful alive than dead.

Roodaka came to that satisfactory conclusion with a pleased hum and a big smile, snuggling her snout further into Sidorak's neck. The Steltian hummed back fondly in his sleep as his arms gently tightened around her, which caused a flustered buzz to flutter within her heartlight.

She stared into the dark for a few more minutes.

Ah, cripes.

Turns out infatuation is a two-way street.

[vanoilette]

BAKER READER W ERIC CARTMAN ✔︎

warnings; swearing

authors note; never thought cartman would be the one i would write for the most, also i might make an actual oneshot of this.

—eric cartman

Your family has owned a bakery for ages, so usually you were there a lot. Behind the counter, so no surprise that Cartman has came to the bakery before to eat.

South Park is a relatively, somewhat small town, besides the extensions. Which is what made the bakery still known and running.

His mom definitely threw him a birthday there at some point.

Cartman didn’t really take notice of you until you accidentally got his order wrong, and he was with stan, kyle and kenny.

“Hey! You fucked up my order.”

Announced it so loud trying to let the whole bakery know. Thankfully it was just him and them though. So no one heard.

“Cartman don’t be an ass.”

Kyle was there, and Cartman was indeed ; acting like an ass. He blew up on you. But then left.

He came back though, thats when you barely noticed he was rude. He always gave you that stare as if he was better than you.

It was quite unbecoming of him.

To be frank, he was kind of an asshole

After a while, he stood there just to talk to you and you occasionally sat behind the counter with you.

He usually complained about Kyle, or he just commented on peoples orders when they came.

“Fat bitches.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.”

Your parents kicked him out multiple times before costumers got mad.

Now, when it comes to the romantic feelings, he 100% was in denial for like 3 months.

Still came to the bakery everyday, and came behind the counter as usual.

“Kyle was so annoying today, he wouldn’t shut up.”

Cartman did come to terms with his feelings, eventually at least. He wasn’t great at communicating them or showing them. But he showed you what he called “tough love.”

He, as i said in the dating headcanons. He is a very possessive person, and he could get pretty jealous.

So you can bet if anyone, including customers try to hit on you. Cartman’s gonna suddenly walked into there and say “HEY.” Loudly.

Hes a brat.

Believe that if you make any food, he will eat it. And he loves it too.

Has made yelp accounts to give good reviews to the bakery on multiple accounts, yes. Yes he did.

One time Kyle came there, he offered to help you with studying. But y’know. Cartman was there.

I have a headcanon that hes a little obsessive, so he has stalked your social media accounts. He has also kept track of your daily schedule.

Once you two started dating, he was there almost all the time. Pretty much engraved his ass on the chair.💀

Everyone was stunned when they found out Cartman managed to bag you.

Like, Kyle was all “How the fuck does anyone like him?”

Kyle was honestly kinda mad that Cartman got a partner before him, (no he wasn’t cartman just said that)

Hes the type of guy to love you and only you, not great at showing it. But he gives you a lot.

But he fully expects it to be returned.

Hes garfield.

Likes to be pampered, and holds your hand under the counter alot too.

Eats peoples orders.

“So what? Their like .. 1 minute late.”

[alltaternotot]

Lucky Charm | E. Johnson

Erik Johnson X Fem!Reader

A/N: Inspired by Emily Kaplan’s interview with EJ after the Avs won the Cup. He’s so fine it’s not even funny.

CW: NSFW (blowjob, praise, exhibitionism if you squint REALLY hard), swearing, very limited knowledge of how horse racing/betting actually works, but I gave it a stab. Very VERY lightly proofread, pls excuse any mistakes, just doin this for funsies.

Word count: 2.4K

:)

<><><><>

The summers in Denver were always perfect. It was finally time to relax and enjoy the warm weather after months and months of cold ice rinks and rigorous schedules, for you and your boyfriend both. EJ could finally take a step back from his intense training and long road trips, just for a few weeks, before it was back to the grind again.

You worked as a senior consultant in a successful Denver design firm, which was also the reason you met the tall blond. He commissioned you to design his newly renovated kitchen and living space, and invited you to enjoy a glass of wine with him when all was said and done. He had given you a soul-sucking kiss on the way out the door that night, leading to the best years of your life so far.

You were high up enough in the company now, around four years down the line, that you could somewhat make your own schedule. You followed Erik’s schedule most of the time. You would work hard in the months he was on the ice, and take a few weeks in the summer to enjoy the sunshine and your boyfriend.

That’s how you found yourself here, sitting on the shaded patio, watching the water in the backyard pool ebb and flow in the breeze and reading a new book leisurely. There was nothing like enjoying the soft sound of the water and a good book to pass the time.

You shared a routine during these days. He would join you outside with a tray of food and special cocktails he liked to make, spending the day reading or playing cards with some music on. On race days, especially the ones his horses were entered in, he insisted on sitting outside with a cigar (because there was no way he was getting cigar ash on his indoor furniture) with the back door open, plus sitting on the part of the sectional that faced indoors so he could watch and still enjoy time with you.

Today was a race day, and like clockwork, you could hear Erik open the back door, the sound of the TV in the other room coming through, and his footfalls coming up behind you. He leaned against the back of the deck sectional you were seated in, squeezing the back of your neck and laying a gentle kiss on your head.

“How’s the read?” He asked, coming to sit down with a tray of sandwiches, fruit, and the drinks.

“S’good so far, I’m about halfway through.” You answered, popping a raspberry in your mouth and flipping the page, “any news on MacKinnon yet?”

Horse racing was something that seemed to escape you interest-wise. You thought the horses were absolutely stunning, but the pedigrees going back to the dawn of time and the betting Erik liked to partake in were a bit much for you. He loved it though, so you kept up with his horses at least. You had met them all on trips to California and listened to his explanations about why they were so elite, all while petting their velvety noses and giving them carrots, completely losing the conversation after their grandparents had been brought up.

“Nothing yet, the race starts in 20ish minutes. The announcers have high hopes for him though.” He said, picking up the cigar and his little silver guillotine strait cutter, “his money pool is up to 30k right now, could be a big day for us baby.”

He put the cigar into the guillotine and clipped the end off, pulling out his nice zippo and holding it up. You loved how he looked lighting up his cigars, holding the cigar between the teeth he still had and gently grasping it with his hand. You loved the way the little fire would reflect on his sunglasses and cast soft shadows on his face. Every time he blew a puff of smoke out, it made you want to melt into a puddle, but you would never tell him that.

“That one smells pretty good.” You remarked as he leaned back, pulling you up against his side, the scent of tobacco and spice wafting around you.

“I think so too. Naz gave me a few after the parade.” He said, looking up towards the tv for the stats of today’s race.

You admired his profile as he looked at the standings, watching his eyes dart across the screen behind his sunglasses and the tendril of blond hair sticking out of his backwards ball cap. You admired his nose and his cupid’s bow, watching as he blew out more smoke and let it billow around him. You quickly learned to love the way his lip fell flat where his teeth were missing too, despite your friends feigning concern for your future make-outs. You loved everything about Erik really, but moments like these really did something to you. You thought you might get caught looking for too long, so you turned back to your book and dove in once again.

Your books were to you like Erik’s horses were to him. You loved romance novels most of all, you could laugh at the worst of them and squeeze your thighs together when they got good. You learned new things about yourself because of them too, Erik more than willing to try new things when you brought them up, on the rare occasions that you did. You weren’t the most adventurous in the bedroom by any means, but you had a few things you particularly liked when Erik did or helped you do.

This particular book was on the thigh-squeezing end so far, the slow-burn where the main character falls in love with the handsome rugged cowboy (who also happened to have an affinity for cigars) after finding herself stuck in a podunk little town. It had gotten very hot very fast. Images of a tall dark and handsome man pushing the main character up against a barn door and finally kissing her after 15 chapters went flashing through your mind. You continued down the page, imagining the clothes coming off and the sloppy kisses leading up to a risky, almost-public blowjob. He topped it all off with blowing cigar smoke into her mouth while she trembled under him.

Suddenly, your skin was on fire, and you were hyper aware of Erik’s fingers gently stroking up and down your arm, and the way he looked smoking that damn cigar. You could feel your heartbeat quicken, and you breathing became more ragged and shallow.

You craned your head up and placed a kiss on his neck, then his jaw, then his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. Your hand found his chest as you tried to sit up a little more, but Erik lifted you up just enough for a proper kiss, letting his hand fall on your shoulders, the other holding onto the cigar so he wouldn’t burn you or get ash on you.

“What’s this for baby?” He said, reaching out for another kiss, “your heart’s beating a million miles a minute…” he continued.

“Cant I kiss my boyfriend? I just felt like it…” you said, albeit with a ragged intake of breath.

He smiled a knowing smile, “did your book get good baby?”

“I just wanna kiss you…” you repeated, and he obliged with a few more kisses, noting the way a blush crept up your neck and turned your ears red like it did when you asked him to try something.

After the kiss slowed down, you laid down on the sectional, your head resting on Erik’s thick thigh. His eyes shot back to the tv again, observing the standings again. You tried to focus on your book again, but your mind traveled back to the blowjob up against the cowboy’s barn, and him blowing smoke into the main character’s mouth, your thighs squeezed together again. Erik began running a hand through your hair, brushing your scalp with his fingertips.

You placed gentle kisses on his thigh and began to slowly slide off the sectional, not wanting to take too much of Erik’s attention off the tv. You brought a pillow down with you, putting it under your knees so they wouldn’t scrape against the concrete of the patio. You reached for the knot holding his shorts up, and he inhaled sharply, his hand flying down to caress your face.

“Baby…” he said, and you continued trying to take the knot out of the tie, “baby you wanna do this now? Here?” He said, gently holding your chin so you would look up into his gaze.

You never wanted to do anything outside before now, you had a lot of anxiety about the media seeing you and Erik doing NSFW things and ruining both of your careers. He had asked before on a couple of occasions, but you found a way to steer things inside with the blinds shut. You were almost completely secluded here, it was the off-season, and it would take a real scumbag of a media person to show up at the house for a juicy scoop.

“Yeah, I want you so bad…” you said quietly, “you look so fucking hot with that cigar…” you admitted without thinking.

“You like the cigar huh?” He said, pushing his hips up so you could pull his shorts and boxers down just enough for his dick, already half hard from a few kisses and touches.

“You have no idea what you do to me with that damn thing…” you said, pressing kisses to the cut of his hip and his happy trail.

He groaned in playful frustration, spreading a little more so you fit better between his thighs. You finally grabbed his dick, running your closed hand up and down. He moaned and reached for your hair, running his fingers through it again. You stroked him until he was fully hard, watching the muscles tense under your touch.

You ran your tongue along the underside in a fat stripe, letting your spit coat his dick. You took the head in your mouth and sunk down slowly, using your hand to stroke what you couldn’t take. He fisted your hair, pulling back strands so he could see your face.

He loved looking at you when you blew him, there was nothing better. He loved watching his dick disappear into your throat and how expertly you took him. You looked up through your eyelashes at him, and saw he was slack-jawed with his eyes rolled back, absorbing all of the sensations.

“Mmm baby, you look so pretty taking me like that…” he said breathily, “holy fuck your mouth feels so good.”

You hummed, sending vibrations through his dick and bringing him that much closer. He had to control himself from fucking your throat. Everything about this was hot, the sight of you on the ground for him, the wet sound of your spit, the way your mascara was starting to run in the corners of your eyes.

He watched and waited for you to look up through your eyelashes again, then took a deep inhale of the cigar and blew it out, still holding onto your hair. The smell of the cigar just heightened everything further.

Suddenly the sound of a bugle announcing the beginning of the race, and a shot accompanied by the gates holding in the horses swinging open drew your eyes to the tv. You looked up to Erik again, watching his eyebrows slightly raise as MacKinnon pulled forward by a few feet. You took him out of your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin and all over his dick, and you took a moment to breathe while you stroked.

Focusing back on Erik, you knew he was close, you could feel his hard muscles tensing. His moans were getting higher and a little louder, but not too loud, he knew that would make you nervous about people noticing. His hands ran through your hair and gently held the back of your head when you took him back into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head, eliciting a sharp whine from him. He took another puff of the cigar, sending you into a somewhat feral effort to get him there.

“I-I’m so close baby! God you feel amazing!” He said, watching you take his dick, “you’re so good for me, treating me so well…” he praised.

You sucked gently and bobbed your head a few more times before he finally shot his load down your throat, letting you swallow it. He moaned and writhed above you, tightening his grip on your hair before letting his fist loosen so your hair fell down around your face.

You leaned your head on his thigh and took a few breaths, trying to regain some composure. Seeing you like that always made his heart skip a beat, hair tousled from his hands and lips swollen and glossy. You even had a little speck of black soot from the cigar swiped across your cheek.

He hiked his shorts back up and offered his free hand. He pulled you up to straddle his lap, taking a deep inhale of the cigar again, watching your eyes and your swollen lips. He kissed you, letting the smoke fall out of your open mouths. You were both breathing heavy as you relaxed chest to chest, head falling into the crook of his neck. He rubbed soothing circles into your back as you tried to regain your breathing.

“Holy shit! Mackinnon’s about to break into first!” Erik said somewhat tiredly, and you turned around to see his beloved horse pulling forward in the final stretch of the race.

You both cheered as MacKinnon crossed the finish line, effectively winning Erik 30 thousand dollars and more bragging rights to his racing friends. You leaned down and kissed him again, not trusting yourself to get up and stand on your jelly knees quite yet.

“We should break open a vintage bottle tonight baby, we’re celebrating!” He said, standing up with you wrapped around his waist, “you’re my lucky charm baby, maybe we should do that for every race!” He joked.

“Trust me E, I can get on board with that… just keep that cigar around…” You teased, and he laid a deep kiss on your lips.

He walked you both inside and laid you down on the couch, tray of food and drinks (and the cigar) long forgotten. His hands already traveling down your body and in your hair.

“Let me show you now much I love you, my lucky charm.”

[cyberrat]

88th Batch Of Fics: 7th Fill

Hanzo/Cassidy – Part ⅓ – ghost!Cassidy; older!Hanzo; younger!Cole; voyeurism; unwilling exhibitionism; rape turning consensual; ghost gaping – Hanzo got himself a cursed weapon and now has to deal with the ghost attached to it.

---

Hanzo has to force himself to stand still in front of the retina scan so it would be able to properly do its work even as he feels like he is going to crawl out of his skin.

His newest trophy feels heavy at his hip. Like it is burning a hole into the simple linen sack that he’s used to transport it in. There is no harm in it; the weapon is old and there is no ammunition inside it anyway.

But since buying it, he has not been able to shake the feeling of being followed.

It has been creeping up on him during the train ride, leaving him to sit in the corner of the very last car because he just kept having a feeling as if someone were looking across his shoulder.

That feeling had not abated even with his relocation, but at least it had kept him from turning around again and again like a paranoid fool. He knew of his own shortcomings but he had thought he had shaken off these… ah… tics, when he had joined this organization.

The door opens with a soft hiss in front of him and he hurriedly steps inside the base. There is not too much going on; as far as he is aware, no new recruits had been pulled into their ranks. Still, there are a few agents crossing him in the hallways and greeting him amicably enough.

Winston pauses as he shuffles into a side hallway, his smile looking a little forced. “Welcome back, Agent Shimada. You look… harried for someone that just had a few days off.”

Did he? Did he look harried?

Hanzo shakes his head impatiently, though he tries for a somewhat civil tone. “I am completely fine. The train ride was… long.”

Just as he says it, he feels it: fingers brushing the sensitive spot just above his elbow.

Hanzo sucks in a sharp breath and whirls around. There is nobody there behind him.

“...Agent?” he hears Winston’s concerned voice; and right behind it, a low chuckle that is definitely not coming from the gorilla and feels like it has been whispered right into his left ear.

The twins crackle ominously beneath Hanzo’s skin. They slowly writhe inside his body, making him briefly feel nauseous. Like a fist has taken hold of his stomach and is slowly twisting it upside down.

“Excuse me,” Hanzo chokes out, only barely remembering to say anything at all before he dashes down the hallway, white knuckling the strap of his little backpack. The gun keeps thumping against his thigh, heavy and uncomfortably warm. Why is it so warm?!

The twins keep moving and he is so aware of the presence following close by that there is no use denying it at all now.

He thrusts himself into a hallway that is not being used for now. He’s still so far away from his own rooms but he is loathe going there anyway when there is… something following him. It has taken him so long to feel safe and private in them, that-

“Are you afraid of me?”

Hanzo slaps a hand across his mouth to muffle his little sound of surprise right into his palm. The twins are roiling under his skin but they are too well-trained at this point to burst out without his permission. And there is no target that he could thrust them upon anyway.

He turns his head just a little to peer behind him but once again there is nobody there.

Except he can feel warm breath fanning against the nape of his neck and a set of hands grasping his hips, pulling them back until his ass is nestled against a very sturdy something. A very sturdy someone.

“Don’t be. I won’t hurt you… much. I think. Depends on what ya wanna do.” The voice is deep and drawling with some kind of southern accent. Hanzo throws his wild gaze around the hallway. There is still nobody here but that’s just a matter of for how long. There is a camera not too far off nestled up against the corner of one of the security glass doors leading into the science wing.

He can see his own distorted reflection in the lens – as well as something shimmering just behind him. A humanoid; taller than him, he would say, though the reflection is too small to properly make anything out.

It looks like… energy. Electricity. A storm. He can’t quite wrap his head around what it is exactly that he is seeing; especially since when he turns his head, there still is nothing there despite the very real feeling of hands on his hips and a sturdy body at his back.

The twins are roiling underneath his skin. Suddenly he becomes aware of just how much he is salivating. He has to swallow lest he start drooling like a beast, his palms prickling and the sensation just teetering on the edge of painful.

“Am I… going insane?” he finally says out loud to nobody there. It’s an empty hallway – and yet there is that reflection in the camera-

“Maybe,” the voice replies, tinged in amusement. The hands wander. Hanzo can no longer stare at the tiny reflection as he feels his clothes shifting with the movement, chin hitting his collar bones, staring down at himself and watching as his woolen coat is getting rucked up until the cut of his hipbones is just about visible.

The weight of the gun is becoming immeasurable at his hip. It is pulling him down and his knees are so very weak-

“There ya go, sweetheart. Damn, but you’re gorgeous. Got real fuckin’ tired of watchin’ that old fogey in the pawn shop day in and day out. Had a feelin’ that it was my turn for a lucky break for once when I saw your tight ass paradin’ in there. Smug little bastard.”

Hanzo’s head aches the longer he listens to the voice. He has a feeling that it should… echo somehow. That it should have an otherworldly tranquility to it that would make it easier to compute; but there is nothing of the fantastical about it. It is just a voice; sounding like any regular man was standing behind him, whispering into his ears as he is brought to his knees by a force that he can barely struggle against.

His palms hit the slick floor of the Overwatch base and Hanzo scrabbles to reach inside himself, searching for the power of his dragons and finding them… uncharacteristically docile. For all their roiling and posturing mere moments ago, they are now wrapped up tightly in each other and do not rouse to Hanzo’s mad attempts at dipping into their might.

His face twists, a silent snarl stretching his lips. He feels blunt fingers slipping into the back of his soft, baggy pants and feels like yet another force, unrelated to the one behind him, is grabbing him by the throat and impeding his ability to breathe.

Short nails scrabble against the slick floor as he attempts to move away and bring distance between the two of them despite the inhuman weight of the dead gun at his hip.

“Unhand me-” he presses out through clenched teeth and all that answers him is an amused chuckle.

“Come on, now. It’s been decades. Let a fella have fun, sweetheart.”