#nineteen seventy two | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mediumgayitalian · 10 months ago

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“Piper?”

“Here.”

“Damien?”

“Here.”

“Clovis?”

No answer. Nico reaches over and pokes him, hard, and the son of Hypnos startles awake long enough to manage a garbled, “Present!” before nodding off again. At Chiron’s nodded permission, Connor procures an airhorn from what appears to be thin air, grins, and blares it right next to Clovis’ face. He shrieks, flailing off the chair, and would have slammed his face in the ground if Nico hadn’t caught him by the back of the shirt.

“Thanks, man,” he says, yawning.

Nico hauls him back upright, patting him on the shoulder. “No problem. I’m gonna let you fall next time.”

Clovis eyes him warily, shifting at Nico’s too-wide, sharklike grin.

“Noted,” he mutters, sitting straight to try and stay awake. “Jerk.”

Nico pats him on the shoulder again. “There, there.”

Chiron continues with the attendance.

“Butch?”

“Here.”

“Miranda?”

“Yep.”

“And…” Chiron sighs, peering through his reading glasses. “Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…” He glances down at his clipboard, slowly tapping his pen on the edge of it. “Where is Will?”

A groan ripples through the gathered campers.

“Just start without him!” someone shouts, sinking into their chair.

“He always takes forever!” another person agrees.

“Almost like he’s busy running the infirmary that keeps us all alive,” Lou Ellen says drily, but her one vote of confidence is drowned out by several dozen other voices, all complaining.

Before Chiron has to deal with too much of a coup d’état, the rec room door creaks open, and Will comes strolling in after it, ignoring the heaps of boos and launched ping-pong balls at his tardiness. The beam of sunlight from the one dusty window seems, suddenly, to become a great deal stronger, highlighting the blonde of Will’s hair and strengthening the gleam of his easy grin.

“Perforated artery,” he explains cheerfully, settling down in the one empty chair. “Rogue Ares cabin mine went off. Had to do emergency surgery.”

No sooner are the words out of his mouth does he kick off his flip-flops, curl up in the rickety wooden chair, place his head on the nearest shoulder — Pollux, this time, who rolls his eyes affectionately and shifts to be more comfortable — and immediately starts snoring.

“Well,” says Chiron after a moment. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait,” Clovis complains, “how come he gets to sleep?”

Instead of answering, because there is no delicate way to say because he’s my favourite and I am a giant hypocrite, the centaur moves on. He gracefully avoids the various mutterings and calls for mutiny, instead running through the usual cabin check-ins at the speed of light to delve into the more interesting — and therefore distracting — things, such as Personal Grievances. This portion of monthly head counsellor meetings is Nico’s favourite, because he gets to sit back, be silent, and watch a bunch of teenagers yell at each other for his own personal amusement. On especially great days, he communicates with Connor through a series of complicated hand gestures to coordinate betting pools. Today, he is up seventy-two dollars. (Did he throw the pool by betting against himself and then inventing a fight with Chiara? Yeah. Did he cut her a deal for halfsies beforehand, making this technically fraud on two counts? Yeah. Can anyone prove it? Absolutely not. Suck on that, Stoll. You wanna be beat at your own game any day of the week? Nico’ll beat you at your own game any day of the week.)

As he’s accepting three dollars from a huffy Nysa (obviously the physical altercation count was going to reach six, c’mon, doesn’t she pay attention to these things), a hoof stamping the ground makes Nico jump.

“Boys,” Chiron says tiredly, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that’s quite enough.”

Both campers immediately burst into louder arguments, continuing to flail and smack at each other as their voices get more and more raised and illegible.

“Boys!” Chiron stamps his hoof again. This time, they fall silent, staring at the old centaur with flushed, guilty faces. “Sherman, get Malcom out of that headlock. Malcolm, we are not building a pig pen in the dining pavilion so the Ares cabin can ‘eat in an environment more suited to their mannerisms’.” He pauses, nodding in acknowledgement. “As funny as that was, it was entirely inappropriate to say. Apologise at once.”

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Malcom grumbles.

“My throat is too bruised to do so,” Sherman repeats, mockingly. “Gods, it’s like you’re asking for me to jump you.” At the immediate catcalls and jeers that follow, he reddens, hastily shouting, “Like mug! Jump like mug him, guys, like beat him up! Shut up! Shut up, or I swear I’ll —”

“Sit down, boys,” Chiron says, banging his hoof again. “For Hera’s sake. It’s like you want to embarrass yourselves further.”

Nico snickers with the rest of the counsellors as Sherman and Malcolm return to their seats. In their desperate attempt to separate from each other to assure their status as Heterosexual, Guys, Please, they manage to bump into each other, losing their balance and collapsing on a heap on the floor, more tangled than before. Predictably, this makes the flailing worse, which is unfortunate for them and their misery but a source of great entertainment for everyone else. Among the hooting and hollering and camera flashes, Chiron sighs, putting his head in his hands and muttering something about teenagers and being too old for this shit. Or something.

“If everyone’s quite done,” he says finally, ignoring Connor’s quip about how he could watch a few more minutes, actually, “I would love for this meeting to end. I have to do something that doesn’t involve teenagers for several hours. All of you exhaust me.”

“Except Will,” Sherman says petulantly, scowling at the still-sleeping medic. Pollux, who by close proximity has become endeared to the human disaster (Nico knows the feeling; he’s still convinced Will has weird powers that mess with one’s oxytocin levels by virtue of smiling as there is no way that someone so annoying can be so simultaneously endearing), glares somewhat protectively.

“Sh,” he hisses, at the same time Chiron says, “If the rest of you spent less time trying to kill each other and more time trying to fix the consequences of said attempted murder, I would be more lenient.”

Lou Ellen speaks up. “Also, Will has that whole cute, can’t-stay-mad-at-me thing.”

Various campers nod and mutter in agreement.

(Nico knew he wasn’t the only one.)

Nyssa clears her throat. “If we’re ready to return back to the actual meeting, I have a point of discussion.”

Chiron nods, gesturing for her to continue.

“The vans are breaking down,” she says bluntly. “Again. Because they’re, you know, older than everyone in the room.” She glances at Nico, frowning. “Well, except for him.”

Nico sniffs haughtily. “Youngin’s, these days,” he says, shaking his head disdainfully. “No respect for their elders.”

Chiron raises a bemused eyebrow. “…Indeed. Nyssa?”

“I need parts again. Preferably from that place in Virginia? They don’t ask questions and price fairly. That would be best. Only I need the van to go get the parts, so. You can see the conundrum I’m in.”

“Easy fix with the chariot,” Chiron decides. “Can someone wake Will?”

“Gladly.”

“Without the airhorn, Connor.”

“Aw. I’m not doing it, then.”

“How tragic. Pollux?”

Gently, the son of Dionysus taps Will’s cheek, shaking him until he blinks awake.

“I was totally paying attention and I think we should go with the second option,” he says, yawning.

“Not asking you to settle a debate, but nice try,” Pollux says.

“Well, shit. That one usually works.” He flicks still-tired eyes around the room, smiling when his gaze rests on Nico. Nico rolls his eyes, willing down the heat to his cheeks. Judging by the teasing edge Will’s grin takes, it does not work. “Whattaya need, then?

“The chariot,” Nyssa says. “Vans are breaking down again. I need a part from a shop in Roanoke.”

Will straightens. “Like, now?”

“In the next day or so, yeah.”

“There’s a strawberry delivery on Saturday,” Miranda pipes up. “So sooner rather than later.”

Will nods. “Yeah, that works. Hell, I can probably be back by —” he checks his watch — “late tonight, honestly. Just gimme the part number and —”

“I kind of meant that I could go,” Nyssa interrupts, looking at him strangely. “I know what the part looks like. I just need to borrow the chariot.”

Will presses his clasped hands to his face, inhaling deeply.

“I would absolutely love to lend you the chariot blessed by my father who has gone totally silent,” he begins, in a tone that makes Nico think that he would not, actually, absolutely love to lend out the chariot blessed by his father who has gone totally silent, “only that the last time I lent someone this super important chariot it came back in pieces.”

“I remember.” Nyssa levels him with a look. “I fixed it.”

“Exactly! So you appreciate how much I would like it to not be broken. In fact —”

“Alright,” Chiron interrupts, holding up a hand. “You’ve made your point, Will, the errand is yours. Choose a buddy to lower the chances of you dying and check in before you leave.”

Predictably, this choice is not well-recieved. Because why would things be easy?

“Totally not fair,” Sherman protests, the loudest of all complainers. “Will’s no less likely to break it just because his cabin thinks they own it —”

“Finish that thought and I will curse you in twelve different ways for the next eight months, Sherman.”

The Ares counsellor snaps his mouth shut, sensing the new, hardened edge in Will’s voice. “Noted.”

“He’s got a point, though,” Damien hedges. At Will’s glare — boy, is that chariot a sensitive topic, Nico is noticing — he holds his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “We draw straws for small errand-quests, Will, you know that. It’s not fair that you just get to call dibs.”

Will takes a long, slow breath, fingers pressed to his temples. When he looks back up, his expression is flatter than the entirety of the Midwest, jaw set and eyebrow raised. He narrows his eyes, contemplating, then clearly comes to a decision, nodding to himself. Everyone watches with bated breath as he climbs up to stand on his chair, folds his hands together, clears his throat, and says, voice carefully controlled, “Who can guess how many surgeries I’ve done in the last week?”

For a long moment it’s so silent that Nico can hear every rustled shirt as people fidget, every aborted cough and uncomfortable swallow. Will’s eyes are piercing, and he takes the time to stare at every individual counsellor until they meet his eyes, squirming, and look immediately away.

Nico’s impressed. Sometimes he forgets how godsdamn rigid Will’s backbone is.

Finally, someone offers a guess.

“One?”

“Try four,” Will corrects, smile more like a bare of teeth. “I have not had a circadian rhythm since I was thirteen years old. I sleep when I can. And yet, somehow, you clumsy fucks manage to near kill yourself at the exact moment my subconscious even considers approaching REM sleep, every single time, and then I get to spend my next several hours piecing your sorry ass back together by hand, since hymns barely work right now. If I have to see another surgical pin I am going to stab it through someone’s eye. Am I making a point?”

No one answers.

“‘Cause I can make it clearer,” Will drawls.

“No need,” Chiron says hastily. “The quest remains yours, so long as there are no further objections.”

Wisely, no one speaks up.

“Perfect. Nyssa, if you’ll stay behind with me to iron out some details, everyone else — dismissed.”

The tense air immediately evaporates as people practically spring out of their seats, sprinting for the door. Nico is among the last to leave, having to stay and stop several fleeing demigods to collect his wares. On his way out, a heavy arm slings over his shoulders, and he’s suddenly enveloped by the intoxicating scent of lavender body wash and pure sunshine.

“Get off me, Solace,” he complains immediately, coming up to wrap his hand around Will’s forearm in the guise of shoving him off. Will is entirely unfazed, holding him tighter.

“But I have a proposal.”

“Take it elsewhere.” He ducks out of Will’s hold and sweeps his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling with an oof. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look any less sunny and smiley from the ground, somehow making it work for him, actually. He settles against the soft grass, sighing, hair fanning out like a golden halo. He pats the spot next to him, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in the late morning sun, and Nico swallows roughly, joining him.

“You wanna come with me to Roanoke?”

“Yes,” Nico says automatically. Will grins, and he flushes. “I mean, I guess if I have to. Loser.”

“Ever so grateful, Neeks.”

“You should be.”

He keeps his voice prim and superior, attempting to uphold his image, and since he is delusional he convinces himself he’s successful. Will, though, is entirely undeterred, lazy smile still on his face and arms stretched above his head, the picture of unbothered. A sliver of skin shows where the hem of his shirt rises and Nico ignores it. He doesn’t even glance at it, or the glint of Will’s belly-button piercing, at all. Nor is he aware of Will’s shorts riding up, or the curve of his calves as he crosses his legs. All of these things go unnoticed. Obviously.

“I have a proposal for you, if you’re done checking me out.”

Nico shoves his flaming face in his knees. “Did you know that in all the corners of the Earth I have been to, I’ve only encountered three things uglier than you?”

Will’s grin only gets wider. His eyes, even, start to get squinty as the force of his smile squishes his cheeks. Entirely unsubtly, because Will is the least subtle person alive, he reaches out and sends a wave of calming energy into Nico’s body, slowing his rapid heart rate.

“…Right.”

“Three things, Solace.”

“Of course, of course.” He removes his hand, graciously allowing Nico the space to breathe and remind his lungs that their job is not voluntary. “I’ll come pick you up in a half hour? Wear a jacket.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Nico pauses. “Yes.”

“Stellar.”

“God, you say such nerdy things unironically. How do you have friends?”

“I dunno.” He gets to his feet, brushing the dirt and grass from his shorts. “You tell me.” He leans down and presses a smacking kiss to Nico’s hair. Nico presses his fingers into his eyeballs until they hurt, screaming silently into his palms.

He waits until the smacking sounds of Will’s stupid flip-flops retreat before braving the world outside his little ball of misery, squinting at his retreating form.

“I think I should get a lobotomy,” he says out loud to himself, because, realistically, if his braincells are already spilling out of his ears like loose quarters every time Solace so much as smiles at him then there’s not much to lose, is there? and stomps off to his own cabin.

Out of spite, he chooses the New York Giants jacket he got from Percy, just because he knows Will hates it.

That’ll show him who’s bossing who around.

Totally.

———

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bellaxgiornata · 2 years ago

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List of Installments for Falling For the Devil

Warnings/tags: 18+; series contains lots of smut, fluff, angst, humor

Summary: This is a very long series/collection of one-shots about a nervous/awkward journalist Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. Meant to feel like a realistic look into dating Matthew Murdock and all the sweet, vulnerable, sexy, and dark sides that come with him. Reader also gradually gains more confidence in and out of the bedroom as the relationship progresses.

List of Installments

Part One: "The Night You Met"

Part Two: "The One-Sided Pining"

Part Three: "The Time Daredevil Saved You"

Part Four: "The Night You Almost Kissed"

Part Five: "The Wedding Day"

Part Six: "The Wedding Night"

Part Seven: "The Post-Wedding Brunch"

Part Eight: "The First Date"

Part Nine: "The Pool Game"

Part Ten: "The Growing Insecurity"

Part Eleven: "The Night Together"

Part Twelve: "The Week You Tried to Avoid Matt"

Part Thirteen: "The First Time He Walked You Home"

Part Fourteen: "The Time Matt Got Jealous"

Part Fifteen: "The Vulnerable Side of Matt"

Part Sixteen: "The Time You Saved Daredevil"

Part Seventeen: "The Revelation in the Rain"

Part Eighteen: "The Visit to Fogwell's"

Part Nineteen: "The Time You Almost Told Him"

Part Twenty: "The 'I Told You So'"

Part Twenty-One: "The Time You Did Tell Him"

Part Twenty-Two: "The Night You Couldn't Sleep"

Part Twenty-Three: "The Day of Phone Tag"

Part Twenty-Four: "The Devil and the Baker"

Part Twenty-Five: "The Leather Couch"

Part Twenty-Six: "The Big Win"

Part Twenty-Seven: "The Grocery Run"

Part Twenty-Eight: "The Early Morning Wake Up"

Part Twenty-Nine: "The Questions Over Coffee"

Part Thirty: "The Introduction at Clinton Church"

Part Thirty-One: "The Flight to Chicago"

Part Thirty-Two: "The Night He Couldn't Sleep"

Part Thirty-Three: "The Thanksgiving Dinner"

Part Thirty-Four: "The Ex Encounter"

Part Thirty-Five: "The Very Bad Day"

Part Thirty-Six: "The Cozy Night In"

Part Thirty-Seven: "The Bad Dream"

Part Thirty-Eight: "The Black Suit"

Part Thirty-Nine: "The Secret Santa"

Party Forty: "The Secrets in Your Suitcase"

Party Forty-One: "The First Half of the Trip"

Part Forty-Two: "The Argument in the Hotel Room"

Part Forty-Three: "The End of the Trip"

Part Forty-Four: "The Christmas Eve Party"

Party Forty-Five: "The Christmas Dinner"

Part Forty-Six: "The Night of Christmas"

Part Forty-Seven: "The Devil in Need"

Part Forty-Eight: "The Perfume"

Part Forty-Nine: "The Cemetery Visit"

Part Fifty: "The Interview"

Part Fifty-One: "The Devil's Wrath"

Part Fifty-Two: "The Breaking Point"

Party Fifty-Three: "The Downward Spiral"

Part Fifty-Four: "The Impossible Friendship"

Part Fifty-Five: "The Disheartening Valentine's Day"

Part Fifty-Six: "The Nightmare"

Part Fifty-Seven: "The Rough Conversation"

Part Fifty-Eight: "The Aftermath"

Part Fifty-Nine: "The Necessary Conversation"

Part Sixty: "The Long Awaited Kiss"

Part Sixty-One: "The Things You Didn't Know"

Part Sixty-Two: "The Pinky Promise"

Part Sixty-Three: "The Dinner Party"

Part Sixty-Four: "The Lesson at Fogwell's"

Part Sixty-Five: "The Shower"

Part Sixty-Six: "The Night Out"

Part Sixty-Seven: "The Morning in Bed"

Part Sixty-Eight: "The Sleepover"

Part Sixty-Nine: "The Lunch Date Delay"

Part Seventy: "The Thoughts About the Future"

Part Seventy-One: "The Sleepwalking"

Part Seventy-Two: "The Belated Valentine's"

Part Seventy-Three: "The Easter Sunday"

Part Seventy-Four: "The Boy's Night at Josie's"

Part Seventy-Five: "The Hangover"

Part Seventy-Six: "The Request"

Party Seventy-Seven: "The Very Frustrating Day"

Part Seventy-Eight: "The Night You Cooked Together"

Part Seventy-Nine: "The Hell Day"

Part Eighty: "The Revisitation of Moving In"

Part Eighty-One: "The Nighttime Visit"

Party Eighty-Two: "The Overload"

Part Eighty-Three: "The Really Bad Idea"

Part Eighty-Four: "The Late Night Snack Hunt"

Part Eighty-Five: "The Romantic Voicemails"

Part Eighty-Six: "The Moving Day"

Part Eighty-Seven: "The Week of Distractions"

Part Eighty-Eight: "The Birthday Brunch"

Part Eighty-Nine: "The Stray"

Part Ninety: "The Ring"

Part Ninety-One: "The Helping Hand"

Part Ninety-Two: "The Recurring Nightmare"

Part Ninety-Three: "The Unexpected Introduction"

Part Ninety-Four: "The Offer"

Part Ninety-Five: "The Evening of Insecurity"

Part Ninety-Six: "The Quiet Morning at Home"

Part Ninety-Seven: "The Rooftop" {Coming Soon}

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #fftd #daredevil

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storm-angel989 · 4 months ago

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Vox and Val don't know how to hold babies. They get handed their newborn to get some bonding in and they're all "ok what now? I just hold it? Where do I put my hands?" Until Auntie Velvette gets sick of their bullshit and physically rearranges them into a proper baby holding position because "you don't have to hold them out so far away from you, they're not contagious" and "anything they have, you're gonna catch real soon anyway"

Ok that's my contribution for today

Hi friend,

Oh I love this idea! My biggest struggle with this one was “where do Vox and Velvette and Valentino get a baby?” (because there is no baby store, let's be real) so it took me a while to chew on what I think is an entertaining situation. I hope you enjoy it!

<3 Mandy

Valentino didn’t hold babies. Not in life. And certainly not in death. In fact, he didn’t think the idea of children had ever been discussed in his relationship with Vox and Velvette. And when his phone rang and Asmodeus' voice called him, Vox and Velvette to his restaurant in the lust ring, the last thing he was thinking about was kids.

“What does Ozzy want with the three of us?” Velvette asked as she watched the rolling hills of fire pass by as they jumped from ring to ring.

“Fuck if I know,” Valentino replied as he took a drink of wine. “Any idea, Voxxy?”

“No,” Vox replied without looking up from his phone.

Velvette sighed in annoyance. “Well you two fuckers are no help.”

Both ignored her. Several minutes later, the limo pulled up outside one of the biggest restaurants in all of hell. As soon as they stepped out of the limo, they were escorted back to Asmodeous’s office.

“Who's a sweet little baby? Yes you are, yes you are!” Asmodeous’s voice floated out from behind his office doors.

“Huh, didn’t expect him to have a caretaker kink,” Vox muttered. “Hey, ow!”

Valentino elbowed him, hard and gave him a writhing look.

“We don’t judge,” he said sharply. “Especially not Oz.”

“Judge what? Huh?” Fizzeroi’s voice floated as the doors opened. “Come in, dumb little…”

“Alright, that’s enough Fizz, calm down, you’ll scare the baby,” Ozzy said firmly. “Come in you three.”

The V’s exchanged glances but stepped inside. Of all of the sighs they expected to greet him, Asmodeous holding a tiny pink blanket wasn’t anywhere near the top of the list. Hell, for that matter, it wasn’t even on the list.

“Congraduation’s Valentino, you’re a father,” Asmodeous said as he stood up.

Vox and Velvette stared at Valentino in disbelief.

“That isn’t possible,” Valentino argued. “I always use protection, I…”

Azmedous stood up and walked across the room.

“In nineteen seventy three you made a deposit to a sperm bank. Upon your arrival in hell, our agents were supposed to destroy every single source of your DNA on Earth. It appears someone fucked up I mean…uhn…” he looked down at the baby, “made a mistake. This little girl is a product of that. And with her mother in heaven, she’s yours.”

“Wait, her mom died? Who was she?” Valentino demanded, taking a step back away from Asmodeus.

“She did. And went to heaven. But as you know, unbaptized babies?” Asmodeous made a slashing motion across his throat. “Not welcome upstairs. And upon this little one’s arrival, I went myself and personally destroyed the rest of the vial. But there is no mistaking, she’s yours. And by the contract you signed, she’s your responsibility, just like any other child who falls who has parents in hell. And I know you want to honor your contract.”

Asmeodous’s normally lighthearted voice dropped to a dangerously low tone. The fire that surrounded him perked up, and even Fizzeroli jumped from his shoulders.

“Give me,” Velvette said quickly, stepping forward.

Asmodeous shot Valentino and Vox a look, but carefully handed her the tiny pink bundle.

“We’ll take her,” she declared firmly. “Valentino will honor his contract. Do you have a diaper bag, or formula or anything?”

Instantly, Asmodeous relaxed. From beneath the desk, he pulled out a pink bag and dropped it at Valentino’s feet.

“I put a sleep spell on her, so she should stay down the entire way home,” he told them. “But she’s going to be hungry when she wakes up. Formula is in the bag, along with diapers and a few extra things.”

“Great,” Velvette said as she looked at the pink bag with distaste. “We’ll get a more stylish one in time, come on boys.” With those words, Velvette turned and walked confidently out the door.

“Do you think they have any idea of what they’re doing?” Fizzeroli muttered as he watched the retreating figures.

Asmodous shrugged. “We’ll check on it in a few days. Make sure Valentino truly does uphold his end of the contract.”

Back in the limo, Velvette carefully cradled the newborn to her chest.

“There should be a carseat,” she declared. “Vox, get out your phone. Make a list of the things we’re going to need to keep this thing alive.”

Valentino and Vox stared at her.

“What? It’s either keep it alive, or Valentino breaks his contract and Asmodeus…”

“Yeah, no I get that,” Vox interrupted. “But we, I really never took you for the motherly type.”

“Oh fuck you, I’m motherly,” Velvette snapped. “Now get the phone out and start making a list.”

By the time they arrived back at the penthouse, the spare bedroom had been transformed into a workable nursery.

“It’s basic, but I can do the design later,” Velvette told them as he looked around.

In her arms, the baby began to fuss as she opened her eyes.

“She’s probably hungry,” Velvette said to them as she turned and walked out to the kitchen. “One of you, hold her while I make a bottle.”

Both stared at her in confusion.

“No, I’ll hurt her,” Valentino confessed finally. “She’s so tiny.”

“Yeah, no. How do I hold it? What do I do?” Vox asked.

Velvette rolled her eyes. “You, Vox, look it up. Valentino, it came from you. So you, sit down on the couch. Vox, take notes.”

Valentino obediently sat down on the couch. Carefully, Velvette placed the baby in his arms and Valentino held the child out at arms length.

“No, no not like that. Closer. She isn’t a disease, you won’t catch anything from her,” Velvette admonished. “And if she gets sick, we’re all getting it anyway, so buckle up buttercup.”

Velvette watched as he slowly inched his arms closer. Annoyance flooded through her.

“No, you know what? Unbutton your shirt,” she snapped as she snatched the baby back.

“Fuck you, no,” Valentino retorted. “That has nothing…I’m not…no!”

“Actually, she’s right, it’s called skin to skin,” Vox interrupted as he looked up from his phone, “we should all probably do it. It helps…with their vitals and stuff. Body temperature and heartbeat regulation. Helps them thrive.”

“And I’m pretty sure if this thing dies, Asmodous will consider it a violation of your contract in some way and kill you as well,” Velvette added.

Hesitantly, Valenitno undid his jacket and unbuttoned his black shirt. Carefully, Velvette positioned his hand under the little girl and laid her against his chest. To his surprise, it felt good- natural, almost. Carefully, he leaned back and settled the child comfortably against him.

“Good. Now don’t be alarmed if she cried,” Velvette warned. “She’s got to be hungry.”

As quickly as she could, she hurried off into the kitchen. As quickly as she could, she mixed a bottle and brought it back to Valentino.

“Here, you feed her, Vox,” she directed.

“Oh hell no, it ain’t my kid,” Vox protested.

“We’re in this together, right? Otherwise the empire crumbles,” Velvette said firmly.

The look on Vox’s face told Velvette she had won. She watched as he took off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt.

“Fine, I’m ready,” he said reluctantly.

Carefully, Valentino handed the baby to Vox and Velvette adjusted his arms so the baby was in the correct position. She watched as he gently pressed the bottle to her lips and to Velvette’s relief, she instantly took to it.

“She is kind of cute,” Vox admitted as she suckled frantically. “Are you hungry, little girl? She needs a name, right?”

“Let’s call her Reader,” Valentino suggested. “It was…well, it doesn’t matter. I’m her dad, I get to name her, right Velvette?”

“Reader,” Velvette said slowly. “Yeah. I like it.” With a swish of her skirt, she turned away. “I’m going to make some design notes for the nursery. Yell for me when she’s done eating, she’ll need to be burped.”

“Great,” Vox muttered as he looked at Valentino. “That ones on you.”

“We’ll all be doing it,” Velvette yelled over her shoulders. “She’s a member of this family, we take care of each other. Period.”

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denwritesandcries · 7 months ago

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Lose on losing Dogs – S.S

Pairing: shauna shipman x fem!reader

Summary: There she is. The first person you met when you moved into the neighborhood. Your first friend, your first crush, your first kiss and your first heartbreak. Your first grief is very much alive and looking at you in the eye now.

or, shauna comes back.

Word count: 1,2k.

Content: post-crash, angst, reunion, reader and shauna had something going on, hurt/barely any comfort, the consequences of the accident, traumatized teenagers.

Note: They’re both broken and traumatized your honor.

English is not my first language.

Nineteen months. Five hundred and seventy-nine days.

It's been 19 months, 2 weeks and 7 hours since you've last seen Shauna. Since you've seen any Yellowjacket, actually. Since the crash.

Now you're standing outside her room, staring at the door silently like an idiot after showing up at her parents' house wearing pajama bottoms and looking just as much of a mess as they do. Damn.

Her mother looked at you with so much relief when she saw you on her porch that she just rushed you inside immediately, looking like she might cry at any moment because “you’re the first person to come see her who isn’t one of those tv parasites." And well, you didn't say anything. What could you say? Last time you saw her was at her daughter's funeral.

Shauna is back, you think.

You've finished school, graduated. Left town. Started college. You got your own life now and still there wasn't a single day where you haven't thought about her. Remembering her. Mourning her.

And now she's back. Alive.

It still doesn't feel real, even though it is. You just have to open the door so you can see it for yourself. Why can't you open the door?

“Mom,” comes her voice from inside the room, probably having sensed your footsteps prowling the hallway, “I told you to leave me alone.”

The sound is so strange and yet so familiar that it makes you choke on air, feeling your eyes sting from the tears you've been holding back since climbing the stairs. Without wasting another minute, you step forward and open the door, not realizing what you're doing until your sweaty hand turns the handle.

The first thing you notice is that the room is cold, the curtains are closed, one of the dressers is visibly dusty as if no one has been there for a long time. A room inhabited by a ghost. The last thing you notice is the bundle of blankets in the middle of the bed, with a mess of brown hair scattered around the edge, and a barely touched plate of food on the desk.

Clearing your throat, you take a deep breath. “Shauna,” you call.

You see the exact moment she registers your voice and freezes, even though you can't see her face.

She remains still and curled up and you shift your weight from one foot to the other, nervous and embarrassed. Maybe she doesn't want to see you. What made you think that you of all people would be the one she wanted to come visit her after coming back from the dead and a freaking accident? You can still remember the screams and hurtful words directed at you the last time you two saw each other. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't come.

“Shauna,” you try again, sounding as desperately as you feel, “It’s me. I came to see you— To see how you are.”

'Liar', replies a voice – very similar to Shauna's on that fateful night, the night before the crash – 'if you really wanted to see me or know how I was doing, you would have come the day the plane landed, like everyone else did.’

I was in another city, you think. Shauna spent weeks in the hospital. Nobody let me see her. They didn't let me see any of them. I came as soon as I heard that she had been discharged and returned home.

‘And yet you woke up and spent hours walking in circles around your childhood bedroom, car keys in your hand. You almost left.’

You startle when the pile of blankets suddenly moves again, revealing the shape hidden beneath them and then you're finally face to face. Shauna Shipman. Your Shauna. The first person you met when you moved into the neighborhood. Your first friend, your first crush, your first kiss and your first heartbreak. Your first grief is very much alive and looking at you in the eye right now.

She faces you in a way that is impossible to avoid. God, she seems so thin, hair wildly messed up, big, deep brown eyes with dark circles beneath them, pupils so glassy it hurts to look at it, and Shauna looks lost, kneeling in the middle of the bed, like it's impossible to believe that you could be there.

Shauna calls your name, sounding so incredulous and so incredibly sad that being two feet away from her seems absurd and you cross the room in a blink, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to pull her against you, before thinking better and deciding to grab her hands instead. She shudders.

“You came,” Shauna says. Her voice sounds hoarse and worn, you imagine she hasn't used it much at home or in the hospital. “I didn’t think you would come.”

You can feel scars on her hands as your fingers move to rub circles over the skin, and a brief glance makes you aware of old, yellowed bruises on her wrists.

“I did,” your voice breaks. “Of course I did.”

She seems completely different from that girl you were in love with and dumped you so long ago. The aloof, almost cold girl you argued with when you caught her fucking Jeff in a car when you were walking home from a stupid high school party. This sure doesn't look like the girl who screamed “What, do you think we're girlfriend and boyfriend or somethin'? I've never said we were exclusive!” when you tearfully told her you loved her the night before the whole disaster happened.

But her eyes are the same. Intense, painful, hazy. And still difficult to decipher completely. That's what makes you hug her back when her lips tremble and she launches herself against you in a thrust that throws you back a little. She melts and sinks into your touch like she wants to be a part of you, just like she used to do before.

“It was horrible,” she groans against your neck.

Shauna cries. She cries badly. She cries ugly and loud, tears wetting your neck and shirt incessantly, as if she has desperately needed it for a long time. She clings to your shoulders as if you were her lifeline. She's sniffling and whimpering like a child.

You hold her silently, having no idea what to say, running your hand gently down her back to calm her and trying to ignore the fact that you can feel her spine and ribs through the old sleep shirt she wears.

You also have no idea how many hours have passed before her crying subsides to silent sniffles, but when you look out the window you can tell that it's already night outside, even with the curtains closed. It doesn't matter, you would hold her forever if Shauna asked, especially if she continued trembling like that.

The room is completely dark and silent when she finally speaks again.

“Jackie's dead.” She mumbles, voice completely defeated, zoned out as if she weren't really here.

“Oh, Shauna,” you mumble back, feeling your own tears spill as well. “I know. Everyone is dead.”

Everyone is dead, but she is still here.

You squeeze her as tight as you can in your arms, as if you can stop her from disappearing again. Shauna whimpers against you and sniffles harder, her nails on your shoulders scratch and draw some blood, the sound of her crying filling the room again even with her face hidden in your chest. You kiss her forehead and she keeps crying, but she's still here so everything is fine.

At least enough to not give up completely.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets #shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman x you #shauna yellowjackets #shauna shipman imagine #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets show #yellowjackets shauna #denwrites

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avocado-writing · 1 year ago

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For nightingale, aziraphale, and Crowley, could you write something with them going on holiday or honeymoon to a museum or historical site, and remembering old times together? Maybe they discover one of them in the background of a historic photo or they’re mentioned in a piece of writing or turn up in a painting or a statue? I just need more of those 3 so whatever you feel like, dealers choice <3

aziraphale x reader x crowley (good omens)

third chapter of this. kissing you on the lips anon for requesting it.

rated M for light smut.

1.5k words.

if you like what I do, here’s my ko-fi!

Your marriage is a quiet little affair.

It has to be, really. Can’t have a big crowd wondering how three people are able to all wed each other. It’s hard enough miracling the registrar to not notice anything out of the ordinary, let alone worrying about having a bunch of guests second-guessing the technical legality of the thing.

Luckily, it all goes reasonably smoothly. The registry office isn’t busy on a Thursday afternoon, it doesn’t take long to get in and out. Yes, all three of you sign these documents, that’s absolutely fine. Congratulations and I hope you have a happy future together.

Rings on fingers, plain gold wedding bands binding the three of you to each other. Chaste, meaningful kisses and wide smiles.

Being married to them doesn’t feel any different, but then again you suppose it wouldn’t. You’ve been together for longer than any human has ever been alive. You were all practically married anyway, getting the paperwork done was just… the cherry on top.

“Well, now what do we do?” you ask, stepping out onto the busy London street. Aziraphale and Crowley take a moment to consider this question, as if they hadn’t really thought about it either.

“Lunch?” the angel says, just as the demon replies “bed?”

You laugh, and the three of you end up doing one and then the other.

Crowley kisses you both hard the moment that the bookshop door shuts, pausing only to flip the sign firmly to ‘very closed’. You trap Aziraphale between your bodies, knowing how much he loves to be showered with attention, and strip off as you retreat through the nonfiction section to the well-loved sofa in the break room.

It feels like there isn’t time to go upstairs. It’s time to consummate this marriage here, now.

“Come on, angel,” you hum as Crowley sheathes himself inside him, making Aziraphale’s eyes roll in pleasure, “like Geoff wrote, ‘In wyfhode I wol use myn instrument as frely as my Makere hath it sent’.”

Despite the overstimulation as you sink down on him, Aziraphale laughs. Crowley cocks an eyebrow.

“What on earth are you going on about?”

“Inside joke, I suppose,” you reply wickedly, before silencing any further questioning with a kiss across Aziraphale’s shoulder.

When you’re done breaking in the marriage bed - after you finish breaking in the marriage couch and then the marriage kitchen counter - the three of you lie together, limbs tangled, the two of them feeling you breathe.

“You know what we should do?” you eventually pipe up, lost between twisting your fingers in Aziraphale’s curls and running your hand up the length of Crowley’s thigh.

“Look, I’m happy to go again, just give me ten minutes,” Crowley murmurs. You almost get caught up in it as the angel plants a kiss on your bare shoulder, but snap yourself back to reality before they can delay your train of thought further.

“No! - I mean, yes, but also, we should go on a honeymoon.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale says, lighting up, “That’s a wonderful idea. I can’t remember the last time the three of us took a holiday together. One where we didn’t have to also do some work, anyway.”

“It was Stockholm, nineteen-seventy-five,” Crowley states without missing a beat. The two of you both look at him, and it clicks.

“Oh god, it was, wasn’t it?” you laugh. Of course. Was it that long ago?

“The Eurovision final! Goodness, how on earth did we forget?”

“Repressing painful memories?” the demon suggests. It was one of those trips he’d clearly not been very pleased about, but insisted his chaperoning was better than the alternative of letting you and Aziraphale run wild around Sweden.

“I can’t believe you had a perm for that whole decade,” you say to Crowley, who just groans and slings his arm over his face to hide.

“I thought it was very fetching,” Aziraphale reassures, squeezing his husband’s - husband’s! - hand.

“Well, why don’t we go somewhere a bit closer to home?” you suggest. “Somewhere like, I don’t know, Edinburgh?”

“I like Edinburgh. Well, apart from one statue, but we don’t have to go and see it I suppose,” Aziraphale agrees. The two of you look over to Crowley. He lifts his arm just enough for you to see the sparkle in his yellow eyes.

You set off a couple of days later in the Bentley, boot packed up tight with suitcases (none Crowley’s, one belonging to you, the rest Aziraphale’s; he insisted he needed to bring at least twenty books ‘just in case’). With Crowley’s driving the eight hour journey takes about five, and soon you’re at your little bnb planning how you’re going to spend the week.

And it’s lovely. You do all the touristy things, the guided tours, the hidden gems, and slowly making your way around what feels like every pub in the city. You and Aziraphale eat a quite astonishing number of lunchtime finger sandwiches, and Crowley takes you out dancing to a little hole-in-the-wall joint he had a hand in founding a couple of decades ago. Your heart is full and you realise over and over again just how lucky you are to be able to spend your life with the two people you love most in this universe.

On the last day, you finally do the big one: Edinburgh Castle. You’ve been in there but only once, and that was a couple of hundred years ago. It’s changed but not as much as you thought: it’s nice to see the conservation work people are doing in old places like these. Saving little pieces of the past.

You’re walking through one of the little side corridors - a place you’re probably not meant to actually be on the tour, but one of your husbands has a way of making locked doors open and the other is very good at getting people to forgive you if you’re found going through them.

Up ahead they’re bickering. About what you can’t say. You’ve learnt to tune it out unless it’s about something actually important. Despite that you almost miss it, walk right past the bloody thing - but then you catch the flash of paint out of the corner of your eye and do a double-take.

Your mouth drops open.

“Oh my god. You two, come here and take a look at this!”

Aziraphale and Crowley halt their quibbles and double back to stand at your side. They’re both as shocked as you are.

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasps.

“Huh,” Crowley mutters.

“It’s us,” you state.

It is. An oil painting, ancient. The only description is a tiny plaque which sits beneath it in tiny lettering: a portrait of a gentleman and two ladies, c 1665. No more information is given, which is clearly why it’s been delegated to a back room rather than hung in somewhere more important.

But there’s no mistaking it: Aziraphale in his white jerkin and doublet, Crowley in a black dress with his hair down, and you in the middle. Dressed in rich colours, heavy jewellery hanging off you. Your lovers hold either one of your hands in theirs, the three of you looking out serenely towards the viewer.

“We commissioned this for your birthday in sixteen-sixty-five. Do you remember, Nightingale?”

You nod. Yes, you remember the two of them trying to surreptitiously get you to pose while someone caught your likeness in a sketch to transfer later to canvas. Portrait sittings were an exhausting thing and there was no way they were going to trick you into believing anything else was going on.

“I thought it was destroyed,” you whisper, gobsmacked. The three of you had lived in a little London townhouse around the time, when your relationship was still young. And yes, a birthday present it was: right before the great fire of London had broken out. You’d had to evacuate the city as quickly as you could, no time to save anything as unwieldy as a painting.

But clearly it hadn’t burned. Someone had saved it - or nicked it, more likely, before the blaze got to it - and now it ended up here. In this corridor. Where the three of you had just happened to trespass to find it.

“Miraculous,” Aziraphale breathes, and you can only agree.

“Should we try to get it back?” Crowley asks. “I’m sure there’s someone I can blackmail in this castle.”

“No. No, let’s leave it. I quite like it here. A little piece of us somewhere, preserved in time, you know? It’s lovely. Besides,” you turn to your husbands, “I get to have the two of you every day now.”

The three of you take a moment to let the idea soak in; and then you kiss in the quiet of the castle corridor. Happy. Looking forward to the future you’re now allowed to live.

“Now,” you announce after a beat, “I think we’d better get some lunch and then I’m going to go and graffiti that statue of Gabriel. You’re welcome to join me.”

“Oh absolutely,” says Crowley just as Aziraphale tuts “certainly not!”

You talk him round though, and by that evening, he’s doodled a moustache on the smug archangel’s marble face with a sharpie.

#request #crowley x reader x aziraphale #crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #ineffable husbands x reader #good omens x reader

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princesspastel8 · 10 months ago

Text

That smile....is hauntingly beautiful

Secret Desire

《A Jeff The Killer Fanfic》

°•~Collection of Chapters~•°

☆

▪︎ Synopsis

▪︎ Chapter One

▪︎ Chapter Two

▪︎ Chapter Three

▪︎ Chapter Four

▪︎ Chapter Five

▪︎ Chapter Six

▪︎ Chapter Seven

▪︎ Chapter Eight

▪︎ Chapter Nine

▪︎ Chapter Ten

▪︎ Chapter Eleven

▪︎ Chapter Twelve

▪︎ Chapter Thirteen

▪︎ Chapter Fourteen

▪︎ Chapter Fifteen

▪︎ Chapter Sixteen

▪︎ Chapter Seventeen

▪︎ Chapter Eighteen

▪︎ Chapter Nineteen

▪︎ Chapter Twenty

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-one

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-two

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-three

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-four

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-five

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-six

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-seven

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-eight

▪︎ Chapter Twenty-nine

▪︎ Chapter Thirty

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-one

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-two

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-three

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-four

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-five °TW°

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-six

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-seven

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-eight

▪︎ Chapter Thirty-nine

▪︎ Chapter Forty(TW)

▪︎ Chapter Forty-one(TW)

▪︎ Chapter Forty-two

▪︎ Chapter Forty-three

▪︎ Chapter Forty-four

▪︎ Chapter Forty-five

▪︎ Chapter Forty-six

▪︎ Chapter Forty- seven

▪︎ Chapter Forty-eight

▪︎ Chapter Forty-nine

��︎ Chapter Fifty

▪︎ Chapter Fifty-one

▪︎ Chapter Fifty-two

▪︎ Chapter Fifty-three

▪︎ Chapter Fifty-four

▪︎ Chapter Fifty-five

▪︎ Chapter Fifty-six

▪︎ Chapter Fifty-seven

▪︎ Chapter Fifty-eight

▪︎ Chapter Fifty-nine

▪︎ Chapter Sixty

▪︎ Chapter Sixty-one

▪︎ Chapter Sixty-two

▪︎ Chapter Sixty-three

▪︎ Chapter Sixty-four

▪︎ Chapter Sixty-five

▪︎ Chapter Sixty-six

▪︎ Chapter Sixty-seven

▪︎ Chapter Sixty-eight

▪︎ Chapter Sixty-nine

▪︎ Chapter Seventy

▪︎ Chapter Seventy-one

▪︎ Chapter Seventy-two

▪︎ Chapter Seventy-three

▪︎ Chapter Seventy-four

▪︎ Chapter Seventy-five

▪︎ Epilogue

▪︎ Author's Notes

☆

Story Playlist

Jeff Origin Story(David Near Version)

Jeff's Interviews(David Near)

《 This is a dark romance with heavy triggers for some readers. Viewer discretion is advised.

《 This is an oc female(African American) love interest, but feel free to picture yourself as the character.

《 This is the fully edited version of my book. The completed unedited versions are on Wattpad & Ao3. Links will be below.

《 Wattpad

《 Ao3

Dividers credits are used throughout the story:

° @khaer

° @anitalenia

° @kimjiho1

° @somenteniki

° @bucciniexe

° @cafekitsune

° @k1ssyoursister

° @chaefilm

- If any of the art used within this story is yours, please let me know so credit can be given.

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andytheoverthinker · 4 months ago

Text

Numbers 0-100 in alphabetical order

i made this while in maths class, instead of doing the things i was supposed to be doing

Eight

Eighteen

Eighty

Eighty-eight

Eighty-five

Eighty-four

Eighty-nine

Eighty-one

Eighty-seven

Eighty-six

Eighty-three

Eighty-two

Eleven

Fifteen

Fifty

Fifty-eight

Fifty-five Fifty-four

Fifty-nine

Fifty-one

Fifty-seven

Fifty-six

Fifty-three

Fifty-two

Five

Forty

Forty-eight

Forty-five

Forty-four

Forty-nine

Forty-one

Forty-seven

Forty-six

Forty-three

Forty-two

Four

Fourteen

Nine

Nineteen

Ninety

Ninety-eight

Ninety-five

Ninety-four

Ninety-nine

Ninety-one

Ninety-seven

Ninety-six

Ninety-three

Ninety-two

One

One Hundred

Seven

Seventeen

Seventy

Seventy-eight

Seventy-five

Seventy-four

Seventy-nine

Seventy-one

Seventy-seven

Seventy-six

Seventy-three

Seventy-two

Six

Sixteen

Sixty

Sixty-eight

Sixty-five

Sixty-four

Sixty-nine

Sixty-one

Sixty-seven

Sixty-six

Sixty-three

Sixty-two

Ten

Thirteen

Thirty

Thirty-eight

Thirty-five

Thirty-four

Thirty-nine

Thirty-one

Thirty-seven

Thirty-six

Thirty-three

Thirty-two

Three

Twelve

Twenty

Twenty-eight

Twenty-five

Twenty-four

Twenty-nine

Twenty-one

Twenty-seven

Twenty-six

Twenty-three

Twenty-two

Two

Zero

#andy’s rambling #og #numbers #maths #maths class

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morbific-or-felicific · 1 year ago

Text

-AGNOSTHESIA PART 3 Featuring Scaramouche’s

Part 1 Part2

Meaning: The state of not knowing how you really feel about something, which forces you to sift through clues hidden in your behaviour, as if you were some other person

Word Count: 2.6k~

Description: After you almost fail your midterm Scaramouche decides to punish you

Edited By: @pretty-princess-peach

Join The Tag List

You were in the library, sitting across the table from your boyfriend. You could feel his eyes on you while you read through the notes he had helped you make. The two of you had a midterm in half an hour, and you were hoping to at least get a seventy five…however out of reach that may be.

“You know, if you don’t know the material by now, you aren’t going to magically learn it in the next thirty minutes.”

You let out a sigh and met your boyfriend's gaze.

“Are you going to let me stop studying then?”

“Do you really think you can afford to stop? You do know how stupid you are, right?”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and returned your focus to your notes.

As you studied, Scaramouche lazily scrolled through his phone, texting and watching videos. It frustrated you to no end to know that, despite his lack of effort, he would no doubt earn the highest mark in the class. Meanwhile, you* were working as hard as you possibly could while still running the risk of failing, with Scaramouche’s ominous threat of ‘punishment’ hanging over your head.

You barely noticed when Scaramouche started gathering his things to head to class, having to have him snap his fingers in front of your face to break your focus. Finally, you gathered your notes, and the two of you made your way to class.

~ ♡ ~

Although you swore you had only spent twenty minutes writing the test, you supposed the full hour and a half must have passed since everyone who was still writing was instructed to hand in their tests. You had managed to finish just in time, but you weren’t feeling very good about how you had done.

You made your way out of the classroom to where your boyfriend had been waiting for you, laying across a few chairs he had somehow come into possession of. As you got closer to him, he looked up from his phone and stood up. He was happy to see you but also rather concerned about how upset you looked.

“How did it go?”

He spoke with uncharacteristic softness and concern.

“I don’t think it went very well…”

You felt rather hopeless about the whole situation and had already resigned yourself to failure.

“Come on, with how hard you’ve worked? I’m sure that you did just fine.”

You didn’t respond, choosing to instead stare dejectedly at the floor. Scaramouche offered a soft smile.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We can go get food and watch a movie.”

You stayed silent for a moment, thinking over the proposal.

“That actually sounds really nice.”

“Come on then.”

He grabbed your hand and dragged you to his car.

~ ♡ ~

It had been exactly nineteen days since you had taken your midterm, and you had finally been emailed the results. You sat at your computer staring at the unopened email. You knew that you had probably failed, but you didn’t want to know that you had actually failed. You took a deep breath, did your best to relax your body, and opened the email. You scanned through the words and eventually found your results. You had passed. You swore you had never felt so relieved in your life. Granted, you had only gotten a 58, but that was more than enough for you. You wiped away a few tears of relief and flopped back in your chair. You took out your phone and called your boyfriend.

“Hello-”

“I passed.”

“Seriously?!”

“Yes!”

“Well that’s no surprise. You have me as your tutor, afterall.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto your face. Although he was clearly trying to hide it, pride was evident in his voice.

“Thank you, baby.”

You heard Scaramouche let out a little puff of air from his nose.

“Wanna come over so we can celebrate?”

“I guess I can.”

“Did you pass?”

“Is that even a question?”

“Well congratulations, you are the reason everyone hates being marked on a curve.”

You actually heard your boyfriend laugh at that.

“It’s not my fault you’re all inept.”

“Are you coming or not?”

There was a brief silence.

“I’ll bring food.”

“See you at 5:00?”

“Alright, love you.”

And with that, he hung up. You sighed and sent an “I love you too” text.

You spent the rest of your day doing some chores and some reading, and eventually, Scaramouche was knocking on your door. He brought an obscene amount of sushi, and somehow, the two of you managed to eat all of it.

It was a nice evening. Scaramouche was in a surprisingly good mood(he wouldn’t admit it, but he was quite pleased that you had managed to pass your midterm), and there wasn’t anything left to stress about.

The two of you sat on your couch, scrolling through streaming services. You were nestled under your boyfriend’s arm as he navigated to netflix and started scrolling through movies.

“So what movie do you want to watch?”

“Pride and-”

“No.”

“But you said I could pick!”

“Only if you pick a good movie.”

“You haven’t even seen it!”

“Too bad. I’m picking now.”

You sighed but didn’t really protest. You usually ended up liking whatever movies he chose anyway. This time, however, you had gotten somewhat bored about halfway through “Inception” and decided to grab your phone to scroll through whatever app seemed interesting.

“You know, if you’re bored, we can do something else.”

The prospect of doing something different admittedly interested you, so you decided to go along with it.

“Sure. What did you have in mind?”

A small smile made its way onto Scaramouche’s face as he stood up, turning off the tv and reaching out his hand to you. You took it and followed him to your bedroom. You certainly weren’t going to complain if he wanted to reward you for passing. As you stood at the end of your bed, he stood away from you, leaning against the now closed door.

“Take off your clothes.”

You blushed, slightly embarrassed by how blunt he was but did as you were told anyway. You began to pull your shirt over your head when he stopped you.

“No. Slowly.”

You looked away from him, even more embarrassed now, and started slowly sliding your hands up your sides, bunching up your shirt as you brought it farther up your body. You pulled it over your head and tossed it onto the ground beside you. Next, you undid the button on your pants and slid the zipper down, but before you could begin to slide them down your legs, you were stopped once again by yet another command.

“Turn around.”

You silently obeyed and turned to face away from him as you slid your pants off, bending at the waist, knowing exactly what your boyfriend wanted from you. When you finally kicked off your pants, you turned back around to face Scaramouche. He had a little smirk resting on his face, and you could now see a bulge beginning to make itself known in his pants. Despite the number of times the two of you had fucked, you were still embarrassed to be almost naked in front of him.

“Why are you stopping?”

Your blush darkened as you reached behind you to undo your bra, letting it fall to the ground and then turning around once again to slide off your panties. Scaramouche bit his lip as he watched you. Fuck, you were so good for him. It’s too bad he had to punish you for almost failing your midterm, not that you were aware of that yet.

You turned around once again to face your boyfriend, and he began to move towards your closet, where he kept a few things for situations such as these. You were a little confused as to why he would want to use any of those things when he was rewarding you, but you didn’t question him. You fully trusted Scaramouche and knew he would never hurt you… well, unless you wanted him to. You continued not to question him when he brought out a coil of rope and told you to get on your hands and knees on the bed.

Although, you were still confused. He knows that you like being able to touch him, so why would he be using rope? You finally decided to question his actions when he had finished tying you up, a bad choice on your part. He had just finished the last knot when you piped up.

“Uh, why are you tying me up?”

“Because stupid little whores don’t get to touch me.”

Okay, now you were very confused.

“But I thought-”

“Dumb girls who almost fail their exams don’t get rewarded.”

His words would hurt if you didn’t know how proud of you he was.

“But-”

You felt his hand land hard and heavy on your ass, and your words morphed into a little shout of pain. You tried to wiggle away from him, but with your calves tied to your thighs and your hands tied behind your back, you couldn’t move an inch. You felt his hand land again on the other side of your ass as he reiterated his point.

“Don’t you think brainless sluts should get punished? I’m sure it’ll help get some sense into that empty head of yours.”

You could hear the smile in his voice. You heard him step away, and with you unable to move, you had no idea what was coming next. As his footsteps came closer again, you felt a finger run along your slit.

“You’re so wet already, pathetic.”

Your cheeks were burning. As he began to play with your clit, you started to let out little moans and whines. Fuck, he was good at that. You could hear how wet you were, his fingers starting to push in and out of you rhythmically. If he kept going, you were going to cum. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It felt so good. It felt like he was turning off your brain. All you wanted was for him to make you cum, and maybe for his cock to be inside of you. That would be nice too.

“Fuck, master, I’m going to cum!”

As soon as those words left your mouth, his fingers had been removed from you.

“No! Please! I need it! Please, let me cum!”

You were so close. You needed it so bad. Scaramouche knew that, and frankly, he couldn’t care less. Stupid girls don’t get to cum.

He teased you like this for at least half an hour, although it felt like an eternity. He kept bringing you to the edge just to steal away your end with a derisive laugh.

“Do you have any idea how pathetic you sound?”

You let out a particularly pathetic whine.

“‘Oh, master, please let me cum! I’ll be a good girl, please!’. You’d be worthless if you didn’t feel so good on my cock.”

Warm tears slid down your face, but you could feel yourself get wetter at his words. Scaramouche walked around the bed so he could take your face in his hands.

“Fuck, you look pretty when you cry.”

More tears ran down your face, despite the warmth you felt from his words.

“I should just keep you tied up so you can cry for me and be a good little fleshlight. That sounds nice, right, slut?”

You nodded, not quite sure how to respond. He laughed and walked back behind you. You tried to wiggle away, but you were still helplessly at his mercy.

You heard the clicking sounds of him taking off his belt, and you felt adrenaline shoot through your body. Finally, you were going to feel his cock inside of you.

However, your hopes were quickly dashed when you felt the harsh sting of a belt hit your ass. You screamed. Scaramouche laughed.

“You like that, don’t you, princess?”

You cried louder now, the sound only serving to make your boyfriend more turned on. Once again, you felt his belt come into harsh contact with your ass.

“Count.”

You let out a little shout of pain as another hit came.

“One!”

Your counting was followed by a whimper of pain and a light laugh from Scaramouche. Then the belt came down again.

“Two!”

You whimpered in pain, and your fists clenched behind your back, your nails digging into your palms. You didn’t know how long this would continue for, but you were ready to take whatever he chose to give you, as you always did.

Three more hits came from his belt, each one followed by a shot of pain and a number.

“Five!”

You readied yourself for another hit, but it never came. You jumped when you felt him gently rest his hand between your shoulders, slowly tracing his way down to your waist. Suddenly, he removed his hand, and you could hear him stepping away. He came to sit on the bed in front of you. He rested a hand on your cheek once again and leaned into you.

“Do you want to cum? Hmm?”

He smiled at you mockingly. You nodded emphatically.

“Please! I need to cum, master! Need it so bad!”

He couldn’t help but snicker at how pathetic you sounded.

“Well, if you want it so bad, then okay. I’ll make you cum, sweetheart.”

Fuck. If he’s saying yes, there has to be a catch… unless… was he done punishing you? You quickly got your answer when your boyfriend stood and walked back to where you couldn’t see him.

You heard him fiddling with something, and after a few moments, you felt something cold and plastic run up your slit a few times, collecting your wetness before finally pushing inside of you.

You knew what was coming, but you couldn’t stop the whine that you let out when the dildo started vibrating intensely. You started whining and moaning, not being prepared for the pleasure. Scaramouche walked in front of you once again, this time with a ballgag in hand. He pushed it inside of your mouth and tied it behind your head.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

And with that, you could hear your boyfriend walk out of the room and close the door, his light laughter trailing behind him. You tried to call out to your boyfriend, but everything came out garbled between broken moans. He wouldn’t leave you tied up for too long… right?

~ ♡ ~

You had no idea how long you had been left tied up like this, and you had lost count of how many times you had come. All that you knew was that you were exhausted. Finally, you heard footsteps approaching, and the door clicked open. He was back. Without saying a word, he turned off the vibrations and gently pulled out the toy. He walked around to sit in front of you and untied the gag, removing it from your mouth.

“Did you learn your lesson, princess?”

He smiled as if he were talking to a child. You nodded your head.

“Mhm!”

“Good girl.”

He stroked his thumb on your cheek, and you leaned into his touch. He started to untie you, going through all the knots until you were finally free. You stretched your sore limbs as Scaramouche left the room in search of a warm cloth.

Eventually, he reappeared with a warm cloth and an extra blanket. He cleaned you up and wrapped you in the soft blanket before carrying you back to the couch so the two of you could finish the movie.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @izzalovesdilfs @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf @vvyeislazzy @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @hopeless-smvt @bloomingheartz @crazydreamcat @kazumiku @str4wb3rizz @kyon-cherri @ravereina @ashrodisiac

morbific-or-felicific.

#mae’s daily paper☕️*•̊ⴰ✧#scaramouche.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#personally i think this is fantastic but that’s just me #i hope you all like the food i’m sorry it took me so long #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smut #genshin smut #genshin x y/n #genshin x reader #genshin x you #afab reader #female reader

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buckysgrace · 1 year ago

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Cruel Summer Masterlist

It’s the summer of 1985 and Kim has insisted that it will be her best summer ever. This will her time to get invited to parties, learn what it's like to be high, and that she will finally lose her virginity. Nothing ever goes as planned, however, and her stepbrother Billy seems to become a bigger nuisance than ever. A deal is struck between the two of them and Kim is not sure if her life can ever go back to normal.

(Includes stepcest, drug use/abuse, drinking, smut)

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty

Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three Twenty Four Twenty Five Twenty Six Twenty Seven Twenty Eight Twenty Nine Thirty

Thiry One Thirty Two Thirty Three Thirty Four Thirty Five Thirty Six Thirty Seven Thirty Eight Thirty Nine Forty

Forty One Forty Two Forty Three Forty Four Forty Five Forty Six Forty Seven Forty Eight Forty Nine Fifty

Fifty One Fifty Two Fifty Three Fifty Four Fifty Five Fifty Six Fifty Seven Fifty Eight Fifty Nine Sixty

Sixty One Sixty Two Sixty Three Sixty Four Sixty Five Sixty Six Sixty Seven Sixty Eight Sixty Nine Seventy

Sequel

Dancing in the Dark

Additional Pieces <3

Little Sister

Panties

Red Wine Supernova

Wrap Me Up

Home for the Holidays

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove stepcest #tw stepcest #tw pseudocest #billy hargrove x original character #cruel summer #stepcest #Billy x Kim #Kimgrove

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noonaishere · 1 year ago

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Music of the Heart [Jeong Yunho] - Masterlist

By: noonaishere (main blog: symphonyofmars)

Fic type: social media au / traditional

Pairing: Yunho x fem!reader

Genre: music industry setting, musician/producer, enemies to lovers, mutual pining, running from the past

Warnings: overbearing parents, verbal abuse, sexual harassment

Status: Currently updating

Updates: Thursdays and Fridays at 12pm EST

Synchronously posted with Online/Offline (any asterisked (*) chapters means they’re shared between both fics)

[intro post explaining y/n and t/n]

SYNOPSIS:

T/n has always loved music, though her experience of it wasn’t always the greatest. Forced by her parents to learn the violin - almost purely to climb the socio-economic ladder - she’s since forged her own path. She auditions at Wonderland Entertainment and becomes one of their studio musicians, but how will she deal with seeing her ex-best friend who also happens to be contracted under the company?

Also, how does t/n’s existence connect to y/n, someone she’s never met?

🎵 main cast

Chapters:

🎵 Prologue | a long time ago… in a town far, far away…

🎵 one | “local celebrity”

🎵 two | mahler

🎵 three | emperor nero

🎵 four | come meet the kids

🎵 five | duck and cover

🎵 six | his feefees were a little hurt

🎵 seven | homework

🎵 eight | give her my number

🎵 nine | canard et couverture parte deux

🎵 ten | a date?

🎵 eleven | the fight scene at the end of the count of monte cristo

🎵 twelve | we never talk

🎵 thirteen | youtube recommendations

🎵 fourteen | calendar man

🎵 fifteen | a ✨godsend✨

🎵 sixteen | no ducking nor covering

🎵 seventeen | he’s got pipes

🎵 eighteen | thinking about hats

🎵 nineteen | it is still apples

🎵 twenty | i know exactly who you are

🎵 twenty-one | busking

🎵 twenty-two | he got an audition or something

🎵 twenty-three | best friend

🎵 twenty-four | garage band

🎵 twenty-five | it’ll be worth it

🎵 twenty-six | more like “drone strike parenting”

🎵 twenty-seven | interrogation

🎵 twenty-eight | it’s over

🎵 twenty-nine | more like constipated

🎵 thirty | maybe

🎵 thirty-one | JUPiTER

🎵 thirty-two | no horses in space

🎵 thirty-three | Crom3r

🎵 thirty-four | punk rock

🎵 thirty-five | what a feeling

🎵 thirty-six | do we need a hot air balloon?

🎵 thirty-seven | gotta let the fans know

🎵 thirty-eight | i’ll bring the wine

🎵 thirty-nine | girl’s night

🎵 forty | that’s a no on the hot air balloon

🎵 forty-one | new kids

🎵 forty-two | splash fight

🎵 forty-three | a recluse and a traitor

🎵 forty-four | merch drop

🎵 forty-five | lol i’m screencapping

🎵 forty-six | do you know how to do cubes?

🎵 forty-seven | surprise modu girip baksu

🎵 forty-eight | sometimes the kickball inspires music

🎵 forty-nine | but what can you do

🎵 fifty | no need for sunglasses

🎵 fifty-one | need for sunglasses

🎵 fifty-two | D-Day

🎵 fifty-three | best friends forever

🎵 fifty-four | mission update

🎵 fifty-five | miss me?

🎵 fifty-six | that was really weird and I hated it

🎵 fifty-seven | good point

🎵 fifty-eight | the great outdoors

🎵 fifty-nine | please don’t use memes of yourself

🎵 sixty | ballad mashup with choi jongho!

🎵 sixty-one | scandal??

🎵 sixty-two | two giants

🎵 sixty-three | you really *are* a capitalist

🎵 sixty-four | benevolence and beef

🎵 sixty-five | lyrical content

🎵 sixty-six | principles

🎵 sixty-seven | well?

🎵 sixty-eight | can’t sleep

🎵 sixty-nine | what’d you say?

🎵 seventy | looking for an Ans:wer

🎵 seventy-one | whirlwind

🎵 seventy-two | she’s a me

🎵 seventy-three | solving problems

🎵 seventy-four | the great (less confined) indoors

🎵 seventy-five | pedagogy

🎵 seventy-six | going for a walk

🎵 seventy-seven* | WHAT?

🎵 seventy-eight | misc

🎵 seventy-nine | where the hell are you

🎵 eighty | chauffeur

🎵 eighty-one | public breakup

🎵 eighty-two | somewhere nice

🎵 eighty-three | the start of an apology

🎵 eighty-four | meeting ONiiX

🎵 eighty-five | sting operation

🎵 eighty-six | hack behavior

🎵 eighty-seven | doubleho7 reporting in

🎵 eighty-eight | being kind is punk

🎵 eighty-nine | listening to it for the background noise

🎵 ninety | Devious Deviants Devianting Deviously

🎵 ninety-one | it’s not gossiping, it’s ✨helping✨

🎵 ninety-two | lessons and small dogs

🎵 ninety-three | *distressed memeing*

🎵 ninety-four | fifteen minutes late with no starbucks

🎵 ninety-five | Game Day!

🎵 ninety-six | it’s a metaphor

🎵 ninety-seven* | suspicious group chat

🎵 ninety-eight* | more boba, less ice

🎵 ninety-nine* | ensemble transition (1/3)

🎵 ninety-nine* | ensemble transition (2/3)

🎵 ninety-nine* | ensemble transition (3/3)

🎵 one hundred* | an even more suspicious group chat

🎵 one hundred and one* | we’re both here now

🎵 one hundred and two | time off

🎵 one hundred and three | what’s it like having normal parents?

🎵 one hundred and four | kiddo

🎵 one hundred and five | cake and conversation

🎵 one hundred and six | confessions

🎵 one hundred and seven | the biggest idiot

🎵 one hundred and eight | ego death

🎵 one hundred and nine | what are you feeling?

🎵 one hundred and ten | take your time/get your shit together

🎵 one hundred and eleven* | pocket square

🎵 one hundred and twelve* | +2000% to self-respect

🎵 one hundred and thirteen | stupid teenaged yunho

🎵 one hundred and fourteen* | like a thunder

🎵 one hundred and fifteen* | apologies

🎵 one hundred and sixteen | *nods*

🎵 one hundred and seventeen* | true singularity

Epilogue 1

Epilogue 2

Epilogue 3

Epilogue 4

Epilogue 5

Epilogue 6

Epilogue 7

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🎵

🎵🎵 [MAIN MASTERLIST] 🎵🎵

#Yunho #Jeong Yunho #Ateez #Ateez smau #Ateez fic #Ateez au #music industry au #enemies to lovers #childhood friends to lovers #reader fic #ᴍᴜsɪᴄ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ

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pjsk-headcanons · 3 months ago

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i think we should get more theater kid kohane. like imagine early on in vbs akito still doesnt believe in her singing abilities so challenges her to sing a whole song without breathing. and theres very few songs she knows the whole way through and well enough to sing them faster to make it. so she sighs heavily, resigns herself to this fate, and quietly whispers "seventeen seventy six. new york city." before looking up at him with the most determined eyes and singing at the top of her lungs (while staring directily at him) "pardon me are you arron burr sir that depends whos asking oh sure sir im alexander hamilton im at your service sir i have been looking for youimgettingnervoussiriheard you name the princetown i was seeking an excellerratedcourse of study whn i got sort of out of sorts with a buddy of yours i may have punched him its a blur sir he handles the financials you punched the bursur yes i wanted to do what you did graduate in two and join the revolution he looked at me like i was stupid" (this section very pointed) "im not stupid." (BREATH) "so howd you do it howd you graduate so fast it was my parents dying wish before they passed youre an orphan of course i wish there was a war then we could prove that were worth more than anyone bargined for can i buy you a drink that would be nice while were talking let me offer you some free advice" (this section said with regular rythmn bc it is a crime not to) "talk less. what. smile more dont let them know what youre against or what youre for you cant be serious you wanna get ahead yes fools who run their mouths off wind up dead" "a yayowyayoa what time is it" (finger guns toya) "showtime!! like i said ayayowyayayow yo im john lawrence in the place to be a two pints a sam addams and im workin on three ya those redcoats dont wanna believe that i will bam chickabam those hats till im free a oui oui mon ami jmmapelle laffeyete" (i dont speak french idk man sorry) "the lancelot of the revolutionary set i came from afar just to say bon swa to the king cassoutire whos the best say moi brah brah i am hercules mulligan upping it loving it yeah i heard your mother say come again ayy kinda hard to have intercourse o'er four sets o coursets wow no more sex pour me another brew son lets raise a couple more to the revolution well if it aint the prodigy of bryston college arron burr drop a verse drop some knowledge" (BREATH) "well good luck with that youre taking a stand you spit imma sit well see where we land well the revolutions imminant whadda stall for if you stand for nothing burr whatll you fall for o who are you who are you who are you o who is this kid and whats hes gonna do i am not throwin away my shot i am not throwin away my shot yk im just like this country im young scrappy and hungry and im not thrownin away my shot imma get a scholarship to kings colledge prolly shouldnt brag but dawg i amaze i astonish problem is i gotta lotta brains but no polish gotta holler just to heard with every word i drop knowledge im a diamond in the rough shinin piece o coal tryin reach a goal pow'r speech unimpeachable only nineteen but ma mind is older these new york city streets gimme colder a shoulder every burden every disadvantage i have learnt to manage i dont have a gun to brandish i walk these streets famished the power to ponder to spark a new flame but damn its gettin dark so let me spell out my name i am the ay el! ee ex! ee en dee! ee ar we are! meant to be a coleny that runs independantly who needs britan keep shittin on us endlessly essentially they tax us relelntlessly then king george turns around and runs a spendin spree they aint never gonna set our decendents free so there will be a revolution in this century and to me he says in parenthisis dont be shocked when your history book mentions me i will lay down my life just to set us free eventually youll see my acendency!" (BREATH) "do you want me to keep going because i can" "i am both impressed and horrified."

kohane proceeds to teach toya the entirety of six. theres a specific line that gets stuck in his head every time and kohane spits out her drink when toya mumbles "all you wanna do, all you wanna do baby - touch me, love me, dont say maybe" while running his hand through akitos hair (who is oblivious)

minori and kohane scamper away to a hidden corner of miya at lunch break and shiho walks in on them singing a combanation of cringy idol songs and overhyped theater songs.

also she rearearaeearreally likes beetlejuice. vbs have a warmup where they take turns singing the song thats stuck in their head at that moment. kohane glances around. an gives her the thumbs up. "MOM. DEAD MOOOOOMOMOMOM I NEED A LITTLE HELP HERE. are you really in the ground? cause i feeeeeeeel you all areound me are you hear dead moooom dead mom. in skipping the middle. CAUSE DADDY'S IN DENIAL, DADDY DOESN'T WANNA FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL HE WANTS ME TO SMILE AND CLAP LIKE A PERFORMING SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAL IGNORED IT FOR A WHILE BUT DADDYS LOST HIS MIND FOR REAL FOR REAL FOR REEEEAAAAAAAL YOU WONT BELEIVE THE MESS THAT WEVE BECOME DUN DUN DUN DUN" toya sitting there sweating and hoping that neither an nor akito can understand english that well because it would most definately bring up some unwanted memories.

and because its canon. she also LOVES wanadashow. going to school with OOTORI FUCKING EMU makes her a mess every time. her current vocal stims are "haha! you are king~" and "RULERRULERRULER ITS SHOW TIME HIGHERHIGHERHIGHER ITS SHOW TIME CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY" and that just repeats until someone ducktapes her mouth

oh and! if someone asks her what time it is she'll always say "it's showtime." arata does this too and everyone thinks she picked it up from him. nope. its both a wanadashow and hamilton reference. (he'll never admit it but arata is also a hamilton fan. he saw it while he was in the states and something about it entranced him. probably how well the rap is written. it heavily inspires a lot of his music and kohane makes the homophobic dog face every time. thats why she was so surprised in walk on and on with soumas unfinished track!!!)

no i dont project onto her whahahahahahahahhahaahaaaaaat. my theater kid phase is coming back. - 🎲 anon

#pjsk #prsk #project sekai #headcanon #THEATER KID KOHANE REALLLLLL YES YES YES DICE ANON YES #(ps i have to say dice anon please dont correct me about thatt #i. would rather not say “die anon”)#kohane azusawa #kohampster hc #vbs #vbs hc #🎲 anon

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