#or if you go by does it sound familiar comments he traps you in the basement

[synthshenanigans]

okay but i was looking through the the unseen v shrikhand tags to feel something i guess and one of the tags was 'reblog to kill "chonny jash" faster' I CAN'T GET OVER THE SCARE QUOTES AS IF HE ISN'T REAL LIKE KJDSNFJKASNFKJL

I mean has anyone ever even seen Chonny before? Maybe he's australias new legend or cryptid

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 3

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You hit the back of the trunk with your fist, the tires put to the limit as the man drives without caution. He's honked several times and screeched to many jarring halts. You're trapped in more than just that compartment, bouncing around with the groceries, you're enshrined in a fervour of fear and despair. 

Why is this happening to you? Who is this man? What is he going to do to you? 

Well, what has he already done? 

“Please, sir, I won't tell anyone,” you beg through the back seat, "please. Just take me back--" 

"Do you like classic rock? Jazz?" He asks as the car swerves and he switches lanes. Holy shoot, is he on the highway?  

"What? Please, I promise--" 

"You're distracting me, sweet stuff, you're gonna get us both pancaked by a sixteen-wheeler," he clucks, "just calm down and enjoy the music." 

He flips on the stereo and the local pop station plays. He hums along for a moment, "Ariana, nice." He turns up the familiar top ten and you whimper. 

This is surreal. You really can't believe it. It all happened so quickly. The way he touched you, the way you just stood there and let it happen, then how he just locked you in here! Who does that? Who lets someone do that? Who doesn't raise her voice and tell him to stop? Or ignore him and get in the car and drive away? 

You. You're stupid. You should have been patient and waited for Jake. You should have done so much differently.  

Your tears spring as easily as ever. Your hormones have you always ready to overflow and now seems as suiting as that cat food commercial. You crumble completely, giving up on begging, and bawl. You're going to die, your baby too. 

Maybe that's your fault too. You were so scared when you saw the positive. When you realised the condom broke. There was that split second you wished it wasn't true. When you hoped that it might undo itself. Then you wanted it. You still do. Your baby. Things aren't perfect but you can make them better. 

You jostle with the paper bags, wallowing in your resignation and dread. Time throttles you until it feels like the whole world is on your chest. You hug your belly and apologise to your child. You're supposed to take care of them. 

When the car stops, the sudden dearth of sound slaps you in the face. You sniffle and listen with breath bated. The driver's side opens and dips. He stands and his footfalls stride undaunted towards the trunk. 

You brace yourself. You can't give up yet. The lock clicks and the lid lifts. You push it up before he can open it all the way but he has his hand on your neck before you can leap out. 

"Oh, baby cakes," he squeezes and you cough, "you don't think I'm that stupid, do you?" 

The dimming sky shrouds his figure and he puts cold metal to your cheek, "you don't wanna get yourself hurt. Or the kid, huh?" He presses the metal barrel firmly to your temple, "I don't wanna hurt you either but you gotta give a little." 

"S-sorry," you choke out and latch onto his thick wrist, teetering on your knees as the rest against the edge of the trunk, "I---I--" 

"I know, baby. You're scared. Change is terrifying but I heard you talking to the deadbeat," he pulls the gun away and holsters it. He eases you forward and helps you put your feet to the ground. He keeps a strong hold on you, "you can do better." He smirks, "hi, I'm better, but you can call me Lloyd." 

You gape at him. Is that a joke? 

“And you are...” he enunciates your name. “Sorry about your purse, I tossed it some ditch, but I got the important shit out of it.” 

“Huh?” You blink at him dumbly. 

“Phone’s wiped too. So, I’ll probably just break that down for parts--” 

“Wait, what? Why—please, why are you doing this?” 

“I’m not too sure myself, shortcake, but we’ll figure it out.”  

He slips his hand down to your wrist and pulls you away from the car. He shuts the trunk and the noise echoes off the high ceiling. You look up at the interior of the garage. Several cars are parked in the space. What kind of place is this? 

“Come on, you don’t wanna hang out in here,” he snorts and tugs you to follow him. 

All you can do is let him guide you. You keep your free hand on your stomach as your eyes burn. You can’t give up. You have to keep going for your baby. 

He takes you up a short set of steps and into a house just as colossal as the garage. He looks down at your feet as you stand on the mat. He tuts. Your slides were lost somewhere in your struggle. Your feet are cold and dirty. 

“Hm, well... what now?” He asks. 

“What now?” You squeak. “What do you--” 

“Look, honey buns, I’m not asking you,” he turns and keeps his hand around your wrist, walking you forward as if you’re on a leash. 

You’re confused. What does he mean? He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. What kind of man just does this spontaneously? 

“Erm, Lloyd,” you say softly, “it’s... not too late to take me back.” 

“Ah, but you’re wrong, sweet stuff. It’s way too late,” he snickers. “I scrubbed the traffic cams and the surveillance at the grocery store. It’s all gone. You’re gone.” He stops you in a bright foyer and faces you, “I don’t give my toys back.” 

[see-arcane]

Jonathan is escaping just as the beginnings of brain fever and far worse things are roiling in him. Making him more ill and haggard as he traverses the Carpathians in search of a train. Running, burning, withering. Dying.

The closer he gets to death, the more he can feel Dracula's poison trying to overtake him. It's a trap waiting to spring. He knows it. Dracula knows it. Just as the Count knows the Brides let him slip away--

Ah, well, their loss. It seems you are to be mine alone after all, my friend.

--and dreams little visions his way when Jonathan dares to sleep.

Flashes of dark water and mist. Men screaming like sheep before the butcher. Slaughtered with less mercy than any farmer ever showed his livestock before being discarded like trash.

What loss are they, my friend? I have tasted the finer things. A sweet English vintage; I shall savor more of the same in time. But these? Bah! I have seen a thousand of their paltry kind come and go. I would no sooner cherish their meal than you would swoon over a cut of shoe leather. What difference is it if I play with this coarse fare? You shall learn the same habits in time.

"No. No, no, I won't, I can't. I have to go home. I have to get to her. My life is there. My life is her."

What home is that, my friend? Who is she?

He does not answer. He cannot answer. His head is all fire, burning holes through mind and memory. No, God, he must know! He must remember! He has come all this way, he must know where he's going and who is there! His nightmares fill with as much saccharine sympathy as cutting laughter. The most sincere comment he receives in the mire of it is a single reassurance:

You will recall it all, my friend. Sickness makes no mark upon us. You will know. You will be well. Some night, in this year or the next, perhaps we can go and meet her together. In the meantime, cease your struggling. I can feel your fatigue, poor boy. Put down your head. Stop running. Let it take you. Let it help you. Rest.

"No."

Rest.

"No!"

Rest.

"No, no, no--,"

He stuffs himself with berries and a hare and handfuls from a river. A ferryman takes pity--he thinks? a river, he remembers a River, the Ferryman telling him where to go, how soon the sun will rise, he doesn't know, his head, his chest, everything burning, dying--and a blur passes between himself and the train station. He was loud there. Did he scream? Sob? Bare his teeth? They shoo him away with a ticket.

(Sharp. Why do his teeth feel so sharp? Why is he so thirsty when the fluttering shapes of the nuns keep forcing water down his throat?)

(Quiet now. He cannot get through the walls here. Ha. Could not even open his journal if he tried! The crucifix is wrapped around it! Ha!)

(Stings to hold. Why? God, God, please, not now, don't don't don't, please do not do this, the nuns, they think him mad! They are of faith, but they do not believe! They do not know! They won't understand what he is when they put him in the cemetery they won't know what they invited in unawares they won't know until he is up and out of the dirt and oh O God the Cross and the Son will not save them not entirely not when he feasted on an entire mountain range of the faithful whose prayer saved no one and soon he will not need their necks only whatever meat his teeth can reach and no no no no no no no no no no no NO NO NO NO--)

Something is different.

A white light twinkling in the red inferno. He knows it. It has brushed him more than once. She found him in the graveyard, weeping over the stones of his parents. How did she know then that he was there? He'd never told her.

Her.

Her who?

(Love. Darling. Soul. I know this. I know...)

Even if he cannot pierce the veil of a holy place, her presence can. It fires through his eyes--he is caught mid-kiss, the girl's head is hanging down, familiar sunny locks, who..?--and into Jonathan Harker's.

Jonathan Harker. Yes. Yes, that sounds right. And she is...

Running to him, to the nodding girl, a wisp under the moonlight coming to throw herself into danger for the sake of another, as ever and ever amen, she is--

"Mina."

"Pardon?" asks the attendant refilling his pitcher. She watches him carefully. "Did you say something young herr?"

"Mina. Mina Murray." His bloodshot eyes roll to the window. It faces the west. It faces her. Within him, something blessedly cool turns over, quelling an irate blaze. "I should like to write to her."

"I can speak with Sister Agatha about this. Who is Mina Murray, if I may ask?"

"My fiancee. And my name is Jonathan Harker. We live in Exeter." He offers a weak smile. One without sharp teeth. "My apologies for taking so long to remember it."

[shanastoryteller]

Merry Christmas Grandma!! Three faced goddess was so cool?!? I need to know what happens next!🎅🏻☃️

a continuations of 1 2

Tony thinks that it’s probably selfish of him (knows that it’s selfish of him) but he never wanted to be king.

It wasn’t even an option, really. Greg was so much older than him and hated him from the day he was born. He thought that a spare made him expendable and he’d always hated that, even though Tony was so clearly not planned.

He’d been right, in the end.

There should have been more of them, Tony should have grown up with plenty of siblings, because everyone says that the Starks rule by divine right and the lack of Starks really makes the devout nervous. But his mother had struggled to have Greg and ten years later they’d thought having Tony really would kill her.

Before the accident and he’d had a crown forced on his head, he’d thought that would be his real contribution to the kingdom. Marrying who he was told and having a half dozen or so kids to run through the castle so people would stop fretting.

Then he was the last Stark left alive and there was a war and even though he knew he had a duty to secure the line of succession, it just didn’t seem possible. Turning a foreign royal or one of his own ambitious nobles into a princess and mother of his children had sounded fine, had been something he’d discussed with Rhodey as they plotted and planned how to live their lives outside the constraints of propriety.

But making one of them his queen? Impossible.

He needs someone he can trust to rule, in case the worst should happen. He needs someone who he can trust to rule even if it shouldn’t, so he has the freedom to actually help with this war that he’s found himself in the middle of instead of staying safe and useless in the castle.

Rhodey could help manage his soldiers and plan their battles and would stay by his side every minute that he could, but Tony needed something more, something that he never would have needed if he’d simply stayed a prince.

He needed a wife he could trust.

He got so, so lucky with Pepper.

“I met your champion,” she says, curled into his side with her head on his chest. He always runs hot now with the star living under his skin. It’s a cold night but they’re only covered by a sheet, trapping the heat he gives off around them. “Very pretty.”

“Hey,” he says, but he’s smiling. “He is that. Does he seem like he’s doing okay? I feel bad having him fight so soon, but he insisted. I guess it’s familiar.”

“War is war,” she agrees. “Yes. He spoke fondly of you.”

He blinks down at her, perplexed. “He did?”

Pepper’s lips twitch. “Edward you. He did make a pointed comment about the king’s absence that I graciously ignored.”

He saw Steve literally two days ago! But he is missing some important information. “It’s not my fault I met him as Edward first! You know they found him at the edge of the North border and he literally fought his way through battle that was in his way? Who does that? If I showed up seventy years in the future I’d need a stiff drink and a nap before anything else not to jump into work.”

“You know he needs the distraction,” she says. He’s trying to work on that but it’s hard when there’s a literal war going on. When it’s over, they’ll all get a chance to rest. “You could tell him the truth.”

No one knows the truth, not all of it, except for Rhodey and Pepper. “He already worries about me too much – both as Edward and the Iron Mage. If he knows not only are they same person, but also the king he’s duty bound to serve and protect, it’ll make things complicated. Too many conflicting orders.”

“Yeah,” Pepper says, soft and teasing, “that will make things complicated.”

[dolcettamagica]

𐙚˙⋆.˚ 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ch.3

rick x reader, prime rick x reader

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴: 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘥, 𝘥𝘳𝘺 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘱𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘺𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘯𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘥𝘶𝘣𝘤𝘰𝘯, 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 & 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴����𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴: 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘥𝘯𝘪, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦, 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘸𝘤: 3.0𝘬

The room swayed as you navigated the blurred edges of reality. Laughter echoed in disjointed fragments, and your senses danced in a kaleidoscope of emotions. The world, usually anchored in coherence, now floated in a hazy sea of intoxication. Your laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, a symphony of uninhibited joy. Yet, beneath the surface, a subtle vulnerability lingered, as if the alcohol had unraveled the tightly wound threads of your composure. There was a fleeting sense of detachment, a reminder that the intoxicating elixir could distort both the present and your perception of self.

“D-didn’t I tell you-you…? This shit is fu-fucking good”, Rick took another sip of the glittery green substance. You already forgot what it was called and from where it was – honestly, you didn’t even care. One glass after another has been poured down your throat, five different drinks from five different planets. You were anything but sober just like Rick. Both of you sat crisscrossed on the bed in front of each other. Why did you hate him again? Who gives a shit.

“You’re right, yeah, you’re right”, you giggled as you leaned forward, your hands grabbing into the soft white mattress. Loose strands of hair were falling onto your face as you look up at Rick. Even sitting down, he was more than a head taller than you. “Feels like…hm…feels like I’m on some other fucking planet.”

By your switch of position Rick had a wonderful view before him. Your top was revealing and tight, pressing your tits together, your soft skin glistening in the dim light. His eyes wandered done to your hips and legs. Fucking hell, what a fine piece of ass. Maybe it was the alcohol talking or maybe he was just fucking horny. Lust and desire filled his senses, but Rick didn’t want to do anything…yet. “I am the smartest man alive after a-all. You gotta trust-trust me on this sh-shit, y/n. And you haven’t even tried space weed, y/n, it’s going to bl-blow your fucking mind.” Should be blowing me instead. He watched as you started cackling once again, he didn’t know who was more wasted – you or him.

“Mhm”, you cooed, “Rick Sanchez is the smartest man alive. Be my bartender instead of a scientist, Rick.”

Slowly he laid his hand on yours as he got closer. His touch made your skin burn, goosebumps forming on your neck. He still doesn’t give a fuck about personal space. Quickly you pulled your hand away, a strange feeling clouding your senses and creeping down your body. “I-I could be something completely dif-different than your bartender, little one.” How could his voice sound teasing and seductive simultaneously? Why did his touch feel so familiar every time?

In all honesty, you wouldn’t mind giving yourself to him right now. Both of you were more than just drunk and a little sex would certainly help you destress after this hard, nerve-wrecking day. Something in the back of your head though begged you not to do it. You also had some doubts – What if you’re actually a virgin? What if this is a test? What if it’s a trap and you’ll be kicked out afterwards? Rick would be egoistic enough to do something like that. So, you chose to simply ignore this last comment.

“Tell me more about space-weed, pretty please?”, big doe eyes met his gaze. 

Beg for it more. “Never seem to g-get enough, huh?”, swiftly he took a baggie out of his lab coat. Your eyes widened. the containment possessed vibrant colors, exotic patterns, and unique properties that contribute to its intergalactic allure. Grinning he opened the baggy and let the weed fall into his hand. “Wh-what type of girl are you? Bong? Joint? C-can’t bake some br-brownies for you now, princess.”

“Bong sounds like a vibe”, it didn’t take long for you to catch your composure. Rick also seemed to just ignore what happened a fee seconds ago.

Carefully packing the bowl with space-weed, Rick adjusted the water level in the bong. With a flick, he sparked the lighter, bringing the flame to the bowl's edge. Inhaling deeply, he brings the bong to his lips, igniting the substance and creating a milky swirl of smoke. As Ruck pulled, his eyes focused on you. Right after the bong left his lips and was placed on the bed, Rick grabbed you by your neck and forced you closer to him. His lips were almost touching yours. “Wait, what, Rick?!” Rick blew smoke into your mouth, coating your mouth with a sweet yet earth taste.

“It’s c-called shot gunning, baby”, his hand, which was previously grabbing your neck, was now tucking your hair behind your ear, “Wish you could see your slutty expression right n-now, y/n.”

Every cell in your body was yearning for more, your brain on the other hand “Stop fucking around, old man.” It wasn’t teasingly, you were stone cold and serious.

All of a sudden Rick seized you, his grip unyielding as he forcefully pinned you down onto the bed. The air crackled with tension as his eyes bore into yours, filled with a raw, primal hunger. You gasped, caught off guard by the sudden ferocity of his actions, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and excitement. Rick’s touch was rough, his body pressed against yours with a commanding urgency. In that moment, you realized the depth of his desire, as Rick claimed you with an undeniable passion that left you breathless and powerless to resist. “D-Didn’t I tell you that next time you call me an ol-old man, I’ll make you scream it, dumb brat?”

Only now did you realize in what kind of position you were. One hand was gripping your throat while the other was groping your ass. He was lying between your legs and something hard – and big – was pressing against you. “Fu-fuck, look at your fucking f-face. Needy girl. Makes me want to ruin you.” 

His fingers almost dug into the soft skin of your buttocks as he finally placed his lips on yours. His tongue quickly found its way into your mouth as soon as you wanted to protest his behavior. The kiss was chaotic, full of desire and lust. His tongue closed around yours again and again and he began to roll his hips against you. His hard cock rubbed against your yoga pants-covered vagina. It caused the perfect friction for your clit, you felt how wet you were getting. After what felt like an eternity his lips parted from yours.

“What are you doing, R-Rick?!” Your intention was to sound angry or at least not as excited as you actually were. Instead, your voice sounded breathy and even worse, like you loved what was happening. Ashamed of your own arousal, you bit down on your lip and hoped Rick wouldn’t notice how fucking horny you were.

"Ri-Rick? No. You must call me sir, master or Mr. Sanchez, dirty-dirty whore," he let go of your throat and ass to literally rip the white tank top off your body. In one quick motion, he pulled your breasts out of your bra. "Do y-you think I'm stupid? Senile? Have you for-forgotten that I'm the smartest man alive? I know exactly what you want, little one, even before you realized it." The whole time he was talking he didn’t stop dry humping against your pussy.

His lips enveloped one of the nipples, sucking and sucking on them while the other tit was squeezed by his hand. It was all too much for you, it was overstimulating. Your tits were extremely sensitive to Rick's tongue and hand. You moaned louder and louder, unable to form words, let alone sentences. “wai-…ah, w-wai-…plea-“

Rick's cock seemed to get even harder as your sugary moans fell on his ears. "Y-You like that, don't you? This old man makes you moan-moan like a bitch in fucking heat. You dirty little slut. Have you been provoking me all-all this time to make it end like this? Did you want to be punished, li-little one?" You could do nothing but shake your head. He was the one who had provoked and embarrassed you all this time, right?

"Are-are you really innocent o-or are you just pretending? I can see the looks you give me during our…hot mo-moments. The way your c-cheeks turn bright re-red, your heavy breathing and those eyes filled-filled with dirty fantasies. I've already noticed. I warned you…y-you didn't listen, so now you have to obey. Take your clothes off." He ordered while sitting up.

Tears filled your eyes. Was it the situation or was it the fact that Rick's fat cock was no longer pressing against your clit and sending your body into a state of ecstasy? You weren't sure of the answer yourself. Your brain and body were at odds - your pussy craved Rick while your brain begged you to leave the room. His power-hungry eyes stared at you as if he was waiting for your reaction to further assess the situation. Are you going to play along or are you going to stop? "Did you not hear me, whore? Undress, now."

"Y-yes..."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir."

Maybe it was wrong, maybe not. Maybe it was the alcohol or weed, maybe you just wanted to keep being touched by this disrespectful man. While you threw your bra and pants as well as your thong on the floor, Rick undressed as well. The two of you watched each other. Rick took in every curve of your body – you were exactly what he wanted. Rick was thin but fit at the same time and – oh God – his cock... His cock was huge.

"Do you like what you see, p-princess?" a dirty grin graced his lips. "I like the sight too. Lie-lie down again and spread your legs. I want to see your little cunt." This time he didn't have to repeat his command twice. Slowly (and somewhat reluctantly) you lay back down and spread your trembling legs, not sure if you wanted his cock inside you. Shyly, you looked up at him and your breathing hitched. Rick's hand was around the tip of his member, moving it up and down as he eyed your most intimate area.

“Fu-fucking hell, you’re so fucking wet already. Jesus. I-I didn’t even touch you for real an-and yet you’re soaking. Desperate little thing.”

Out of nowhere and without any warning, Rick grabbed you by your thighs and pulled you effortlessly towards him. "Wh-wait! Please...please don't go in..." You were aware of how your voice was shaking and there was still a hint of absolute desire in it, you were ashamed of it. Would Rick even listen to your plea?

"I-inside? My cock inside you?" He threw your legs over his shoulders and slapped his hard member several times on your clit. “Do you really think th-that you’re actually worthy of my fucking cock?! I’m not rewarding you, this is a punishment, sl-slut. Even if you end up begging me to r-ram my cock inside your lil-little cunt, I won’t.” Mixed emotions filled your heart – relief and sadness. This man was driving you insane.

Rick took his cock into his hand once again and rubbed his tip and and down between your pussy lips, feeling your wetness. “F-Fuuuck, baby, that’s what I do to you, huh? Some dry humping and nipple play and you’re all hot and bo-bothered for this old man.” His cock never touched your clit and you felt yourself almost begging for it. Subconsciously you moved your hips, hoping it would somehow help.

“Lo-look at that. What a little greedy who-whore you fucking are”, Rick understood what you wanted, and he was kind enough to grant you wish. This pre-cum leaking tip circled your clit, causing you to whimper and moan beneath him. “You love this old man’s cock, do-don’t you? Mr. Sanchez is taking such good care of you.”

He leaned down, his chest hovering above yours as he started to grind against you. How could it be that his cock was satisfying you without actually being inside you? He kept rocking his hips – hard and aggressive – your wetness served as some kind of lube as his shaft kept rubbing over your clit again and again and again. It was driving you crazy.

“You’re such a fucking wh-whore”, he hissed into your ear, his hand smacking your ass red, “I bet-bet you want me inside you now, huh? Want-want me to abuse that small cunt and put you to some go-good fucking use. Mmh…fuck, fucking shit…”

He was right. Rick was always right. You wanted him, no you needed him buried deep inside your clenching, pulsating walls. He was rough and dominant. Choking you, spanking your ass, slapping your cute face while staring deeply into your eyes and calling you a worthless whore. 

“Please, sir, I-I’m begging you…”

“Oh, sweetheart, didn’t I tell you this was a punishment?”

And then he was gone, his back leaning against the wall as he sat on the other edge of the bed. No, he can’t be serious. “I actually w-wanted you to scream old man but I think denying you to cum is faaar worse for a dirty bitch like you.” He is actually serious.

“You’re an absolute fucking asshole! O my God!”, rage took over your body and shame slowly crept up. Instead of replying to you, Rick started to put his clothes on again. Even though he was still hard as a rock. Lazily he tossed your clothes over to you.

“Listen, princess, I-I told you I was going to punish you. How would it be pun-punishment if I let you squirt all over my dick? Besides”, he paused for a moment, “You were so fucking wet and begging for my cock that I was about to pound you like so-some fucked up wild animal. Wouldn’t want that now…or maybe you would, right, little one?” Yes, Rick was one second away from ramming his shaft inside your soaking pussy and fuck you to oblivion and back without giving two flying shits about your feelings. The angel on his shoulder – which barely showed up – advised him not to. He didn’t want to break your mind after all he just wanted to tame you and make you his fucktoy.

“Oh…”, dumbfounded you pulled your thong over your ass and your tank top over your head, didn’t really need anything else. You understood where Rick was coming from but you also senses that he wasn’t telling you the whole truth. Awkwardly you pulled the covers over your lower body and lowered your gaze.

A sigh fell from Rick’s lips, “y/n, chill out. I didn’t even fuck you. Here, take the bong.” He really didn’t have to tell you twice. In hopes to forget what just happened, even if it’s just for a fleeting moment, you first took a big gulp of some space-alcohol which was next to you on the workbench before taking a hit of the bong.

“We got five drinks down, another five to go!”

“What the actual f-fuck do you mean another five?! It’s like 2am, Rick!”

“I t-told you, y/n, we’re-we’re getting wasted tonight! No sleep just drinking and smoking, y/n! Let’s fucking goooo!”

His eyes narrowed with an unsettling intensity as he watched you, the woman he desired, moaning for C-137 on a large monitor. A surge of jealousy and possessiveness gripped him like a vice, his heart pounding with a mixture of anger and despair. Every fiber of his being screamed in protest, unable to bear the sight of you in the arms of another – whimpering and squirming, needy and horny. His hands curled into fists, nails digging into his palms as he fought to control the seething jealousy that threatened to consume him whole. With each passing moment, his obsession with you intensified, his mind swirling with thoughts of reclaiming what he believed to be rightfully his. He couldn't bear to see you with anyone else, couldn't fathom the idea of you belonging to another. In his eyes, you were his and his alone.

“How could you?! How the fuck could you?!”

With fury blazing in his eyes, he slammed his fists down onto the table with a force that reverberated through the room. The sharp sound of his anger echoed off the walls, punctuating the tense silence that enveloped the space. Each blow echoed his frustration, the intensity of his rage palpable in the way his knuckles whitened with each strike. His jaw clenched, muscles tensed, as he unleashed a torrent of pent-up emotions, his entire being consumed by a fiery wrath that threatened to consume him whole. The table trembled under the force of his fury, bearing the brunt of his unleashed rage as he struggled to contain the tempest raging within him. In that moment, he was a man possessed, his anger a primal force that demanded to be heard, leaving no doubt of the depth of his turmoil.

Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he should have fucked your brains out before sending you off. Maybe he should have written in his notes that you are his. Maybe he shouldn’t have given you a last chance at all. He always yearned to see the face that you made just a minute ago. He wanted to beg you beg for his cock, soaking wet and desperate enough to not refuse him.

How did C-137 get that far within a few hours?! “Maybe her subconscious is bound to me”, he whispered to himself. That must be it. After all you were his and C-137 just happened to be a version of him. For a split second he thought about bringing you back to him, so that C-137 would never touch you again or fuck you right in front of that bastard to show him who you belong to. But he couldn’t do that – not yet. C-137 didn’t achieve what he wanted him to. Sex was something which could also be taken by force (or under dubious circumstances like C-137 did), what he wanted could not be forced onto you.

“I will kill you for this, C-137.”

[amoristt]

since you write for dbd now, can you write a drabble about frank (legion) finding reader in the trials, he used to know her and had feelings for her? can be dubcon/nsfw/sfw whatever you want!

yes yes yes ye sye sye sys yes

- gn! reader . NSFW . noncon referenced but if there's a continuation it'll be dubcon! - as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - want to support me? heres my kofi!

Run, Rabbit | Frank Morrison/Reader

You don't know how it happened.

One moment, you're at work, mindlessly sweeping the floors of the supermarket you worked at like all the other drones employees around you. Time was ticking by astronomically slow and a part of you just wanted to throw your broom down and waltz out. Money be damned.

The last memory you could recall was heading towards the supply room to retrieve cleaning supplies and then… Nothing.

Nothing, and then, it was cold. It was damp, with harsh winds ruffling the fabric of your work uniform. You were outside standing in the middle of what looked like a road that had definitely seen some better days. The streetlight over head flickered in spasms and offered little light. From what you could make out, with narrowed eyes and dilating pupils, you seem to have found yourself planted in the middle of an abandoned town.

Kidnaping had crossed your mind, along with a million other horrific thoughts.

Would anyone even know where to look for you?

With little exploring along the looming walls of the 'town' you found what seemed to be a massive, electric gate. No power, and no way to climb out, so you took to exploring the town further. A certain… Dread filled you.

You couldn't put your finger on it but you swore you were being watched.

Feeling more prey than human you sauntered about, and used what little technician knowledge you'd learned over the years to tinker with generators in the hopes of powering your escape. It had been going well- until it wasn't. One wrong wire and boom. You were off like a bat out of hell.

The way your blood turned to ice when you heard a second set of footsteps behind you was criminal.

Heart in your throat, your fight or flight pumping shockwaves of adrenaline through your veins, your lungs heaving as you ran without even daring to lookback. You didn't have to. Awful, evil energy chased you- practically nipped at your heels. Mind screaming, eyes searching in desperation for somewhere to hide, you could have cried when you found yourself trapped in a corner of those tall, tall walls. Only then did you whip around to face your attacker.

A white, dirty mask adorned by a tall skinny figure has your breath hitching in your throat.

---

Frank could have jumped for joy when he heard the delightful sound of an explosion merely yards away. It was like Christmas day- like a gift from god. His blade was hungry in his hand, his eyes searching through the familiar darkness for the survivor.

Excitement vibrated on his skin when he saw the faintest form of a figure in the mist.

His pace picked up, and he gained on you faster than you'd thought possible. In mere moments he was less than a foot away, practically able to reach out, grab your hair and rip you to his feet. But, Frank's always found he loves the chase. He lets you get a couple feet on him, he lets you think you have a chance.

He lets you run yourself into a corner like a frightened rabbit.

And god, when you turn to look at him, with those big doe-like eyes and a trembling lower lip, he knows why the Entity had brought him here. He takes a pause of appreciation for a few seconds while you stumble backwards. When your feet hit the wall behind you, he drinks in your appearance, clicks his tongue tauntingly, and twirls his blade in his hands. Your fear ridden voice reaches him like a song.

A song that he finds himself… Recognizing.

From behind his mask, he narrows his eyes. He knows you- he's sure of it. Somehow…

It clicks somewhere in his brain when he really looks at you- past the fear, past the shaking fingers and the sheen of sweat over your skin. A wiry smile forms on his lips and he can't help but laugh to himself deep in his chest. The sound brings waves of terror that he can see course through you.

Years it's been since he's last seen you, he thinks. He'd been in this place for so long he isn't even sure. Maybe it was years, maybe it was decades, even. All he knew was that no matter how long it had been, you were here now, standing before him and completely at his non-existent mercy. He'd always been fond of you since he'd met you in Ormond. You were a free thinker, treading on the darker side of the moon just like him. You saw the cracks in humanity, saw the world through his very same lenses.

He loved your fiery spirit, your impenetrable will.

And, most of all, he loved how he just knew he could tear it all down.

But he'd never got the chance. Your parents had damn near grabbed you by the scruff of your neck and dragged you to a different, safer city once they'd learned the types of people their child had been hanging out with. The types of influences you'd been around. He'd always felt a strange, out of place sadness at never even getting to figure out where you'd been taken.

Or maybe it wasn't so much sadness, as it was disappointment he hadn't really gotten the chance to corrupt you.

You were the one that got away.

Until now, that was. Because now you were here practically fucking gift wrapped for him, like the Entity was rewarding him for his devious behavior.

You're watching every movement he makes, pupils searching frantically for his line of sight, hands clasped at your heaving chest. It make's him giddy.

Frank can't hold back the snarky laugh that escapes him when he takes in your outfit, noting the corporate companies logo. If only your past self could see you now, they'd be sorely disappointed. But, surely that didn't matter. Not now.

Smoothly, he dangles his knife out to his side, before he lets it go. It thuds to the ground, abandoned. It offers little comfort to you, he notices, seeing your worried expression eye the knife before trailing back up to his mask. If he had a little more decency, he'd feel almost a bit bad for you. But, he doesn't, so… He doesn't.

After all, why deny himself of something he'd always wanted?

His figure looms over yours, a light behind him casting a deep shadow over your shrinking form. The outline of you vibrates as you shake fiercely before him. His fingers twitch to touch you, and something below his belt does too. His blood is hot under his skin as he imagines all of the things he wants to do you.

A part of Frank wants to rush in- tear away the layers of clothing keeping you covered and collapsing your shaking knees to the dirt, rip at your hair and force you to choke him down. Or, perhaps, use his trusty knife to drag weeping lines down your exposed flesh, have you cry out and squirm underneath him. The thought makes him shiver in need.

Or, he could take his time. A bit unlike him, sure, but this was a special occasion.

He could play it slow, drag the pads of his fingers up your arms, to the dips of your collar bones. Witness every last goosebumps in it's wake.

He could flatten the palms of his hands and slide it up your shirt until you're the one trying to take it off. Trace the outline of your arousal through your thin underwear until those terrified shakes turn into ones of want. And he knows he could do it, too.

Oh, he could work you until you're practically begging for him to take you.

Mind racing, eager arousal bubbling within him, he brings a hand up to your face and pats your cheek before he flattens his palm against your flesh. It's dewy, hot.

Soft.

Gently, he caresses you, thump rubbing saccharine circles into your skin. You barely flinch away, eyes fixated on him with a panting breath ghosting past your lips.

Frank grins to himself.

Talk about fun.

[box-architecture]

I was rereading some of your stuff on Ao3, and went “huh. I know Sapnap kidnaps Dream out of a misguided idea of what’s happening at one point, but how does that all go? How did Dream react? What was Sapnap like?”

So now I’m asking you. At 12:20 am. I have class in 7.5 hours!

Okay so we're going to ignore how long this has been sitting in my drafts, half answered. Okay? Okay. Awesome

-

So at some point during the Discovery Of Many Kinks (because when you're having a weird poly relationship with your former Warden, you're going to try a bunch of different things. For Science) awesamdrunz attempt to do a sex tape. It gets left around and found within like three days. By Sapnap.

So of course because of burning curiosity he has to watch the mysterious tape to see whats on it.

Then the only reason he kept watching was shock and also trying to figure out who the hell the third person was, why they looked familiar but also what the hell happened to them. Fun ways to find out your former best friend wasn't lying when he said he was horrifically tortured by your kind-of finance: finding his sex tape.

And listen, originally it was a fun crack idea to have him see this relationship nonsense where awesamdrunz was basically fucking in sex dungeons (made by Sam) after kidnappings, and decided that this was actually a really good template to fix his own relationship. He ends up trapping Quackity and Karl in what might be a previously unused sex dungeon!

(Resounding success: both of his boyfriends did not murder each other (due to bars in between them) and even spoke to each other in order to escape. This is the most progress he's had in months.)

But then! Alternate Idea! Sapnap sees the sex tape and (honestly not unfairly given his prior knowledge) believes Punz & Sam are at minimum, pressuring Dream into this relationship, and somehow this is a worse crime than murder. No wonder Dream couldn't stay in the prison! (Which. Not inaccurate.) So Sapnap sets about needing to find and protect Dream.

Sapnap finds Dream, and tries to convince him that he'll protect him. Dream is confused about what Sapnap saw, and has a tough time refuting anything. He also does really miss his friend. So he,,, doesn't really fight when Sapnap takes him to a secondary location.

-

"The windows are nice. Not as defensible, but you'll know if the enemy approaches." Dream commented, staring at the cloud-covered sea.

Sapnap laughed nervously, pulling open kitchen cupboards. "Yeah, I don't know. There shouldn't be any way for someone to find us out here though; its not like I told anyone where we were going."

Dream pursed his lips, but said nothing, eyes following the way the waves crashed against the shitty boardwalk Sapnap cobbled together half asleep. He figured Dream wouldn't want to be cooped up in the cottage all the time, not after… everything, so they could go sit out on the beach and fish, maybe, or go look for seashells. They hadn't built a sandcastle since they were kids, either, so it would definitely be something fun to try. Just like old times.

The wheat was crumbling in his hands, so Sapnap quickly tossed it on the counter.

"Are you hungry?" He called out, trying for a bit more cheer. Dream's gaze pulled to his, and Sapnap began pulling more ingredients out on the granite. "I know I'm not usually the person who cooks, but I've been getting into it lately! I made rabbit stew for Karl the other day, and he didn't even make a face when he was chewing."

He didn't really think about the potatoes as he dumped them into the sink, but he did notice the way Dream flinched, drawing in on himself and towards the doorway.

"Dream?"

"Just…" Dream looked back out into the sea. His fingers, what remained of them, dug into the fabric of his pants. "Nothing with potatoes. Please."

Sapnap felt his anxiety roll like the tide.

"Yeah, dude, that's cool. Doesn't sound appealing right now anyway." He said uncertainly. Dream's shoulders relaxed marginally, but Sapnap still felt off. "Anything you're in the mood for, though? Beet soup? Cheese sandwich?"

"Whatever you cook is fine." Dream reassured him. A brittle, but teasing edge appeared in his smile. "Unless you somehow got worse at baking bread."

He had, but god forbid would he ever admit to that. He grinned, and sat up on the counter. "Oh, like you're so good at it. I tried your stupid 'Everything' bread, and it tasted like ash."

"You turned off the timer and it burned."

"Well maybe next time don't leave random timers on the oven and expect anyone to know what they're for."

"Maybe next time you should assume its there for a reason and not touch it." Dream said in exasperation. Sapnap stuck his tongue out, and Dream threw his hands up, exiting the kitchen. He was so dramatic, Sapnap thought fondly.

-

Its a lot of Sapnap attempting to reestablish their previous connection and realizing how much Dream has changed, and staring at the scars when he thinks Dream isn't looking. He gets Super Protective and promises he wont let anything else happen to him. Dream is instinctively upset (why now, why does it matter now, why do you care, I am Perfectly Fine) but its one of his People and he is So Tired.

Sapnap is sorta kinda keeping Dream with him. It's not exactly against Dream's will, but it's also like, if Dream could walk out the door and come back later without Sapnap freaking out he'd rather do that. But Sapnap is freaking out, and seems to believe that there is a credible threat against Dream if he leaves. Given Sapnap's previous relationship with Quackity, Dream is willing to believe he might know something and that alone makes him anxious enough that he wants to stay.

Sapnap gets more horrified the longer he's with Dream (Dream flinches under his touches, his fingers are gone, Dream makes a snide comment about Quackity when Sapnap asks about the scars,) and this only convinces him more that clearly he needs to be protecting Dream. Sapnap expresses a lot of fury towards Sam, and Dream doesn't have any good arguments against it. There's a lot of stuff that he just sorta, decided to ignore, and now that coming back up is messing with him.

They get into a brief yelling match when Dream gets tired of what he presumes is pity and fake behavior, and it ends with Sapnap holding Dream to keep him from leaving or collapsing.

(The irony(?) of Dream comforting Sapnap for most of his life only for them to switch places in this moment is not lost on him.)

He gets to snuggle with him under the covers and gets a kiss on the chin (Dream is half asleep, and thinking about how much he missed him.)

Meanwhile, Punz is going to Murder Sapnap.

Punz has no context for why Sapnap took Dream so he is assuming Sapnap is going to attempt to imprison Dream again (after failing to kill him) and while he is 100 percent confident in Dreams abilities he also is aware that Sapnap is one of Dreams People and therefore capable of hurting Dream emotionally. Hurting Dream is Not Allowed.

Sam is having a panic attack because Dream isn't within sight line and isn't with Punz and therefore everything is Wrong and Bad in his world.

When you finally get a confrontation between Sam and Sapnap (because at this point, they don't know that Sapnap knows about Punz, so Sam is going in first), Sapnap responds viciously, tearing into Sam both for the scars on Dream's body, but also stating he knew they were fucking, and there's no way that's even remotely acceptable given the position of power Sam had (he's not wrong. this is a true statement of fact for everything that occurred prior to the prison break. it's just that things got weird after that). Sam has no good rebuttal, and faced with violence from Sap, has to flee. He's left shaken from everything.

Dream: listen he may have enabled my torture and abuse, and starved and isolated me, and accepted sexual favors from me while being in a position of power over me But he's also a very sad wet cat of a man, and I'm a control freak

Punz tries to talk with Sapnap on slightly less,,, angry grounds? On his part. Knowing about the interaction with Sam, he feels better about the fact Dream is probably safe and Sapnap probably has good reason for what he's doing.

To be clear though, Sapnap is furious with Punz. Right out of the gate he reveals he knows Punz was involved. At first, he's assuming that Punz was paid off to help Sam, but Punz decides "fuck it" and reveals at least part of things. He explains he was working with Dream after the prison break, that he felt bad for betraying him, and that they had a relationship. Dream wanted to involve Sam post-prison, Punz was against it, but wanted Dream to be safe.

Sapnap: you're forcing him to do this! Punz: I DON'T EVEN WANT HIM TO BE DOING THIS Sam: >:(

Sapnap needs to take some time to processes that, but he then presses to clarify; Dream and Sam had a relationship while Dream was in prison? Yes.

Sam had a hand in the torture and Dream's condition? Also yes.

After he broke out, despite all of this, Dream still felt like he wanted to return to Sam? Yes.

Sapnap: And you LET him?!

Punz doesn't have a good answer for that, other than Dream is his own person, and Punz can't stop him from doing what he wants with his life. To which Sapnap responds, yes you can motherfucker

It's a very fundamentally rift in their two perspectives. Punz, particularly post-prison, couldn't morally justify restricting Dream or telling him how to life his life or cope. Sapnap, thinks that Dream was not in a position to make a choice like that.

Punz doesn't have a good answer for that, it's the exact thing he's been feeling guilty over. So he ends up leaving, Not for forever. Just to think.

Meanwhile, Dream overheard everything. He now understands what Sapnap is seeing as the "real issue" (or at least, the current threat at hand), and he knows that he's going to make his own choice here.

Dream: I understand that my decisions are problematic but have you ever considered that I've made my choices and will continue to make them, even if you don't agree Sapnap: NO

Dream tells Sapnap gently that he's leaving now. He wants to go back. Sapnap doesn't want him to, he makes fair arguments about how much Dream could be hurt here. Dream understands, but he's also an adult, and he's decided what he wants. He's forgiven his stupid creeper hybrid boyfriend. It might not make sense to, but he has. It's his choice in the end.

Sapnap doesn't like it, there's a long people where he's just holding Dream and in tears. He's apologized a lot. For leaving Dream there. He says it again for good measure. Dream gives him a soft kiss on the forehead and he doesn't say it's okay, but he does say that he loves him. That it will be okay.

Dream has to go now, but he promises to come back, they set a time and they get to just spend time together. Talking about things one at a time.

(Sapnap and Dream see each other a lot now, as he slowly enters Dream's life again. Occupying his space and checking up on him and fretting. They get more kisses, more cuddles in bed. Once a week they come back to their little cottage and grow something that isn't what they used to have, but its still good, and its full of love.)

Later, Dream will be reassuring Punz that he made the best choices he could make, sighing and pulling Sam out of his prison depression hole. Kidnapping once again proves to be a great way to solve problems.

[pip-n-chips]

How about being Harper's favourite fucking menace though? Fighting everything he does tooth and nail, in a straightjacket every night, getting other patients to distract the orderlies so you can beat his ass... No matter what he does, it doesn't break down your spirit. It's infuriating, he just can't get his hands on you. he might have to use more... sinister methods...

YES YES AND YES!! also this didn't go in the direction I planned it to go, but here's something for you regardless

Harper absentmindedly drums his fingers against the wooden desk as he looks through patient files, the room filled with silence aside from the occasional clicking of his computer mouse. His fingers halt upon reaching your name.

Harper considers himself a patient man, and in his line of work it's absolutely crucial to be. But even the best of men lose their patience, and his is running very, very thin.

His eye twitches.

The reason?

You.

(continued under the cut)

You you you, of course it's you. He's dealt with patients in the past who didn't, ah,, favor his methods, but he's never met anyone quite like you before.

You're always resisting, always fighting. You just don't know when to quit, to give in, and it drives him mad. If you were anyone else, he would have accepted the loss and sent you over to Remy's, made you their problem, but no.

He couldn't. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't.

Because something about you draws him in; he wants to study you, get inside your head. He wants to fix you. He's not meant to be the bad guy in your story, why can't you see it? He can help you, he can make you feel all better, but you can't fucking see it yet.

Harper leans back in his chair and takes off his glasses to drag a hand over his face, frustrated. His attention shifts to the familiar tightness in his pants, and he glances down at his crotch.

He can't deny the effect you have on him, however.

Every snarky comment, every demand. Every kick and every scream. Everytime you shake yourself out of the trance he put you in, everytime you deny deny deny...

Oh,

you sweet little thing.

You must think it's wearing him down, bit by bit, but you'd be such a fool to think so. All it does is make him want you more and more and more. He can't lie and say a part of him doesn't like how you've been fighting him, because you give him a challenge. You give him a kind of thrill he's never felt before.

God, you're such a tease.

He wants to tame the untameable, cure the incurable. You are the mouse to his cat, and he wants to chase you down and show you what he can really do. And once he has you in his grip, he's never, ever going to let you go.

The tightness is almost unbearable now. Harper's belt clinks as he hastily removes it and unzips his fly. His cock is soon in his hand, the tip already dribbling with precum. He shakily lets out the breath he's been holding onto as he starts to stroke.

How do you tame a mouse? Do you give it cheese? What would be your cheese? Do you trap it? Maybe he should toss you into the quiet room again- but ah. Last time he left you there for too long, he saw you back in town after a while of searching here. He still hasn't figured out how you managed to get past security. Or the cameras. What a sneaky little bastard, you are.

He loves it.

Maybe he should throw you in a rigged maze, one you can never solve. One you can never escape. It'd wear you down until you come to him begging. But would you even ask for help? Maybe he could deprive you of everything except the basic necessities until you're forced accept his help, it'd teach you to be humble. You fight so much to maintain your broken yet incredible mind, so he couldn't imagine you giving up completely.

His breath quickens as he lets his thoughts run wild, the room filling up with his desperate grunts and the slick sound of skin rubbing against skin as he gets more and more aroused.

That could work, and he has a separate property in mind to keep you. Well- technically Remy owns it, but it's been unused for a while, and he's sure he could pull some strings to make it work. He's going to make sure he's all you see, all you feel. You'll be so starved for any type of interaction, you'll practically be begging for his cock inside you- any hole of his choosing. He'll drug and tie you up so you can't fight anymore, and you'll finally see just how much he can help you. How much you need him, and how much he needs-

Harper suddenly convulses, thick ropes of semen spurting from his cock, splattering on his desk. He sinks into his chair, panting, waiting for his mind to clear.

Only you could get him so hot and bothered like this. Only you can give him this kind of reaction. You must be doing this on purpose, this must be your plan. To rile him up, to tempt him. The way you fight, the way you look at him... You're asking for it, surely- It's all a cry for attention. You're playing games with him, hoping you'll lose. You just don't want to admit it, because if you did, you'd have to face the truth. And you and him both know that you prefer your little lies.

How could someone so strong be so cowardly?

Harper reaches into a drawer for wipes and begins to clean up the mess resulting from,, his activities. He thought he got all of it, but upon looking up he sees some managed to land on the computer screen, right on the image of your face.

Would you look at that...

A low chuckle escapes past his lips as he leans forward. His breath his hot against his face as he caresses your image and wipes it clean with his thumb. He wonders what it would be like, cumming on you like this. (You'd hate it with a burning passion, but he'll teach you to love it. Just like how he'll teach you to love him.)

He's itching to find out, but he can wait.

It won't be too long now, anyway.

(Not long at all...)

If you want to keep playing your little games of fighting and denying and teasing and pretending- then that's fine!

He'll play too.

It'll just make his prize upon winning that much sweeter.

[neondiamond]

🎁 Recently Read Fics - December 2023 🎁

These are all the amazing fics I read over the past month (from shortest to longest). Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation if you read any of these! ❤️

🎁 A Green Christmas by @tommokat (871, T)

A short, sweet snapshot of Niall and Shawn’s first holiday season living together.

🎁 to wake up by your side is all I wanna do by @beardyboyzx (1k, G)

Sometimes, Niall still thinks about the way Zayn’s laugh sounds when they watch TV and Niall makes up fake answers for whatever quiz show they’re watching.

🎁 Oh Christmas Three by @tommokat (1k, M)

A birthday surprise goes awry. Louis doesn’t understand. Harry blames the oven.

🎁 make my wish come true by @voulezloux (2k, NR)

the one where all harry wants for christmas is lou

🎁 Baby, please come home by @iysics (2k, T)

Breaking into his neighbour's house wasn't on Harry's Christmas checklist.

🎁 Stuck in Midnight Traffic by @letthemusicmoveyou28 (3k, M)

the one where two broken people meet in an empty tube car on Christmas Eve. Can they find a way to heal each other?

🎁 All The Way Home I’ll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue (3k, T)

Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🎁 Santa Baby (one little thing I really need) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (3k, T)

When Louis himself had first heard those words - all the nurses at the A&E have a secret line to Santa’s sleigh on Christmas Eve-, not nearly long enough ago to be considered a child himself, but long enough that he hadn't really felt like an adult all the time, he’d laughed them off. Thought they were sweet, of course, but just a line, something said to appease the kids who ended up having to stay overnight. Something to explain the presents that parents brought to the hospital on Christmas morning, or that were waiting for them at home, if they were lucky not to have to stay any longer.

Something that would allow a little bit of Christmas spirit in the sometimes sterile rooms of the hospital.

But that was before he’d met him.

🎁 A Christmas at Home by @parmahamlarrie (3k, T)

After meeting his boyfriend in the emergency room, not having Louis home for Christmas Eve (and his birthday) was not a big surprise to Harry. What he didn't expect was just how hard that would be on his six year old son, Arlo.

Or, the one where Arlo wants nothing more than to celebrate Louis' birthday with him, and Harry hates having to be the parent who says no.

🎁 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by @londonfoginacup (3k, G)

Zayn and Louis are soulmates.

They're also missing some soulmates.

For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

🎁 Elf on the Shelf Suprise by @megz1985 (6k, T)

Liam brings home an Elf on the Shelf to surprise his and Zayn's toddler with Christmas magic, but things don't go as planned when she's completely terrified of her new Christmas friend.

🎁 The Busker by @chelsea-frew (7k, T)

A snowstorm has trapped artist Louis at home on his birthday--Christmas Eve--and on Christmas. Louis anticipates a lonely holiday. A mysterious stranger appears on Christmas morning, however, and Louis doesn't have to spend the day alone. But where did the man come from? Why does he seem familiar? It's a Christmas mystery.

🎁 Lonely Cards Club by @hellolovers13 (25k, T)

Harry's life in Cardiff is rather uneventful. Until he receives a strange Christmas postcard.

It gets even stranger when he finds another one the next day.

An Advent story about missed opportunities and second chances.

🎁 You Ain’t Gotta Feel Fear Just Mingle by @londonfoginacup (32k, T)

Harry has been at his dream job for less than three months, and he knows two things for sure; first, his project manager doesn't know what he's doing, and second, someone in the office is apparently pure evil, and no one will tell Harry who it is.

Oh, and the guy who works in conservation at the other end of the building is the most beautiful man Harry's ever seen, even when wielding a hot iron as a weapon.

Happy Christmas, here's to many more.

🎁 Snow In Love by @lululawrence (33k, NR)

Harry and Louis are best friends and have been for basically as long as they can remember. For the first time since middle school, they are both single for the holidays leaving them with the brilliant idea to take each other as their dates to work events. To make things easier they will pretend like they’re dating. But then they learn something funny.

People thought they were already dating. Weird.

An advent fic featuring childhood friends, fake dating turned actual dating, really horrible secret keeping, and a winter weather surprise.

🎁 Heart Beat by @allwaswell16 (33k, E)

Hideaway Haven is the place that Louis has always called home. It's also the place that Harry had tried to leave behind him. When Harry returns to start a music academy in his hometown, he finds himself face to face with his high school crush—and his charming daughter who wants to learn to play the drums.

🎁 I Really Like Your Styles: The Baking Advent-ure by @homosociallyyours (34k, T)

Louis isn't much for frills, and the coffee shop he co-owns with his best friend Liam is evidence of that. Yes, it's got a decent sized, well-kept industrial kitchen, but Louis insists that people come to coffee shops for coffee, not mediocre pastry and plastic wrapped cookies. When Liam's campaign for serving treats turns into watching a few baking accounts on whichever popular app he's on, there's one that really gets on Louis' nerves: "I Like Your Styles." With his chipper demeanor and over the top descriptions of the food he makes, Louis is sure that the (unfortunately cute) baker is full of it. Nothing that adorable could possibly be worth the hype.

It doesn't actually take much for him to eat his words...and some quality baked goods, while he's at it.

[elthadriel]

(predictable request) codyfox? ❤️

There are cams all over Kamino, but not everywhere. Learning where the blind spots are is as valuable as any skill Seventeen teaches them.

Cody gets to latemeal before Tens. He sits with Bly, who doesn't apologise for his role in Tens sabotage during the training sim, but also doesn’t comment when Cody mostly ignores him, watching Tens arrive, collect his tray and sit on the edge of another group of command cadets. Cody will find a way to even the score with Bly later. Tens is the more pressing concern.

 Tens looks up once, catches Cody watching, sneers , and deliberately doesn’t look back at him. It’s an increasingly familiar sort of anger that Tens ignoring him pulls out of Cody. It’s hot and squirming and overwhelms all the steady consideration that makes him one of the best.

The best.

Or he would be if Tens would stop screwing him over.

He clenches his jaw, his face hot, his fist clenched.

He knows where the blind spots are between here and their pods, he’ll take care of this.

Tens eats slowly, acting like he’s listening to the conversation going on around him, pushing food around his tray, and rarely actually putting anything in his mouth. As though Cody can’t be patient.

Oh-Six and Blitz join Cody and Bly, eat, and leave. Bly finishes his own food and puts down his fork, but waits silently until Tens finally stands. Bly looks over his shoulder and follows suit, picking up both his and Cody’s trays.

“I’ll cover for you both,” he says. “Don’t leave marks where Seventeen will see.”

Cody clicks his tongue. He doesn’t need the advice—none of them are unfamiliar with unsanctioned fighting. Cody is on his feet the moment Tens is out of the room. He moves quickly to catch up, but he already knows it won’t be necessary. Tens is a slippery maggot, but he’s not a coward.

Cody catches up with him just a corridor out from the mess hall. Tens does turn then, glancing once over his shoulder and ducks into a fresher.

“Out,” he snaps to the room. Cody doesn’t recognise the cadet that dashes out past him, still tucking himself away. He’s got some survival instincts at least.

There’s cams in the fresher, but they don’t cover the back corner. It’s a small space to fight in—they’ll need to be careful—but that just plays to Cody’s advantage.

“Always such a sore loser, Twenty-Four,” Tens says, backing up into that blind corner. Cody wasn’t expecting regret, but Tens’ self-satisfaction makes Cody’s face heat and his heart pound furiously behind his ribs.

“I’m not the one who had to cry to Bly for help,” Cody snaps. One more step and he’s out of sight of the cams and firmly within arms reach of Tens.

Tens’ nostrils flare. “What makes you think I went to him? I’m not the only one sick of your shit.”

Best to avoid the face—Seventeen will notice a split lip.

Cody steps forward. Tens lashes out before Cody is totally out of line of sight. Cody blocks, and it degrades from there. There’s no space to back up, now they’re grappling they’re trapped until one of them gives up.

Cody catches Tens in the side, Tens twists him into a hold that makes Cody’s shoulder burn to slip out of. Cody shoves Tens back against the wall. Tens’ hands bury themselves in Cody’s shirt to shove him back, his mouth twists in a snarl.

Tens mouth is as much teeth as lips under Cody’s  mouth. The hands in his shirt pull him closer. Cody has the advantage, he has Tens pinned. Tens’ back is to the wall, Cody trapping him there with his own body. He could really hurt Tens.

Tens’ mouth is wetter than Cody would have expected, and their lips make loud smacking sounds. Cody’s heard hammers and Fox’s pulse flutters under Cody’s hand.

Cody brings his knee up between Tens’ legs.

Ten makes a very satisfying wheeze and Cody pulls away.

“You got off easy,” Cody tells him. “Pull that again and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Tens demands, sneering through his grimace, hands cupped between his legs. “Kiss me harder?”

Cody scoffs—Tens had kissed him.

Cody turns, wiping at his mouth. He got the little shit good at least, and Seventeen won’t be interested in checking down there.

He runs his tongue over his lips and swears he can still taste Tens.

[synthshenanigans]

I now have an alt account where I will post random things and talk about nonsensical ideas. If that sounds interesting have a go at it: @starfall-calamity >:}

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

Nursed

Summary: When Izzy gets sick, Stede insists he takes some time off. He also insists that you are put in charge of the first mate's care.

Word Count: 3477

Izzy knew that the best thing to do when a member of the crew got sick was to quarantine them, at least to some extent. Ships were prime spaces for viruses to spread and if the whole crew got sick that would be good for nobody. 

That rule hasn’t applied much to Izzy since he became First Mate, though. He was always needed for one thing or another, he couldn’t just take time off because he had the sniffles or a sore throat. He had to just work through it unless it got bad enough to have him unable to move from his cot, that wasn’t very common though.

Why Bonnet had insisted on following this one rule of ship and crew maintenance was beyond him, probably just to irritate Izzy even more than he already does. Izzy had let a few coughs and sneezes slip while he was up on deck, no big deal, but Bonnet had taken notice. Roach had agreed that Izzy was coming down with something, and Bonnet had insisted that Izzy retire to his cabin to sleep it off, to take as much time as he needed until he was feeling better. Of course, Izzy had thought it, but Edward had only backed up his co-captain on the matter.

So, Izzy had stomped down to his cabin while hurling verbal abuse at anyone who he passed just to make himself feel a little bit better. He supposed that if he was going to be trapped in his cabin until he could pass as being perfectly well, he might as well actually try to sleep some of this sickness off.

His short nap was cut even shorter by the sound of somebody knocking at his door. Surely Bonnet had told the whole crew that Izzy was in bed with some terrible illness by now, so maybe if he just stayed quiet the person outside would just go away.

Instead, the door opened. Izzy groaned as he sat up, finding that his head was actually aching a little more now rather than feeling any better. He glared at you, only snarling a little, as you entered his cabin.

“I guess I woke you…” you observed, at least looking a little guilty about it. “Didn’t think you’d actually go to sleep. Thought you’d just pace around until you passed out or something,” you didn’t look at him as you moved further into the room, placing a tray down on his desk.

“Anyway, got some…bad news,” you turned to him, a not so sorry smile on your face.

“If I’m dying, that would actually be a relief,” Izzy huffed. Even when he was sent to his cabin to wallow in his sickness, he couldn’t get a break from this damned crew.

“Ah, nobody’s that lucky, I’m afraid,” you joked, but it actually came out more light than malicious. “Stede has assigned me to nurse you back to health,” you finally informed him.

Izzy blinked at you like you had just spoken some other language he wasn’t familiar with. “What?”

“Best to only have one person coming to see you, reduce the risk of contamination and all that. Since I help Roach with the medical stuff around here, Stede thought it would be for the best,” you explained.

“Fucking hell,” Izzy sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. His head was aching more now.

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” you laughed to yourself before stepping to the side, gesturing to the tray on his desk. “Got you a pitcher of water, you really need to keep hydrated, and some broth. Won’t be too heavy on your stomach.”

At least you didn’t bring up the whole ‘Izzy the Spewer’ thing, even if Izzy could tell what you were getting at with the stomach comment. To his surprise, you actually sounded sincere and concerned rather than mocking.

“When did you start feeling sick?” you asked, almost clinically. A little like Roach would ask ‘does that hurt’ when he was poking at a bleeding wound.

“I can take care of myself. Done it plenty of times before.” Izzy wasn’t even sure why he was fighting it, stupid shit seemed to be inevitable on this ship.

“Oh, I’m sure. I bet you worked through it all like the stubborn little creature you are, right?” you rolled your eyes, your tone flat.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” Izzy muttered.

“Well, you still don’t, now you have to let yourself accept help and be taken care of,” you tutted before repeating your question. “So, when did you start feeling sick?”

“...felt it coming on yesterday.”

“You’re at the beginning of it then. It’s going to get worse before it gets better. Probably just the common cold, nothing to worry about, sure you’ve dealt with worse,” you shrugged slightly. “Drink. Eat. Drink some more. Then get some sleep. Let your body rest and heal,” you advised, “I’ll be back later to check on you, get you some more food and water.”

“Don’t feel obligated,” Izzy grumbled as you headed to the door, unsure if he even wanted you to hear him.

“I’ll see you later. Or not…if you’re asleep, I won’t wake you,” you told him, leaving no room for debate.

And just like that, you were gone.

Despite being frustrated with Bonnet's stupid orders and even more frustrated that you would be popping in and out, Izzy dropped down in the seat at his desk. He ate the broth and drank some water before dragging himself back into bed, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.

Just as you said you would, you dropped by his cabin later on to check on him. To your surprise, he was actually sleeping. Even more surprisingly, he actually looked somewhat peaceful, not as grumpy as he usually is. 

Maybe it was silly, but you couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight.

You placed the fresh pitcher of water and some leftover biscuits, in case he got hungry, down on his desk.

Silently, you stepped over to Izzy’s cot and carefully fixed the blanket over his frame. He must have kicked it off of himself a little in his sleep. Izzy hummed and nuzzled into his pillow, you bit back a small laugh. Wasn’t that just adorable? You dug a cloth out of your pocket and wiped away the slight sheen of sweat over his brow before returning to his desk.

With your job done, you gathered up the dirty dishes and left the cabin. You walked into the galley, dropping the dishes down by the sink.

“How’s the patient?” Roach asked. He had been very vocal about how pleased he was that Stede had assigned you to watch over Izzy and not him.

“Sleeping,” you told him, “think he’s getting a fever.” 

“Better you than me, I’d probably just tie him down to the bed and force feed him until he’s better,” Roach mused. He was a surprisingly talented medic but not always the most patient one. If his patient didn’t want help, they wouldn’t be getting it.

“Kinky,” you wiggled your brows at him before turning back to the dishes. “Let’s just hope the fever makes him easier to handle.”

You checked in on Izzy again before you headed to bed. He was sleeping again but there was less water and fewer biscuits than what you had left earlier, so you took that as a win. You would stop by before breakfast, make sure he wasn’t going without anything.

-

The next morning you checked in on Izzy, expecting to find him still in bed, but instead he was sitting on the edge of his cot. His clothes sat beside him, pants in hand. It looked like he had started to get dressed but had to sit down before really even starting.

He looked frustrated with himself but he clearly wasn’t well, his face pale and his shoulders slumped.

“Are you seriously trying to get up?” you asked with a huff, like you just couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You absolutely could believe that Izzy Hands was trying to get back to work when he was hitting the worst of his illness. 

“I’m fine,” Izzy insisted, cringing at how rough his own voice sounded.

“That’s a blatant fucking lie,” you rolled your eyes. “C’mon, back in bed,” you were in front of him in an instant, pulling the leather pants out of his hands. You folded his clothes neatly and placed them on top of the chest at the bottom of his bed.

Izzy just watched as you moved around his cabin, vaguely pleased that you had neatly handled his clothes, as ridiculous as that may be. Then you were returning to him, a hand on his shoulder as you got him to lay down and pulled his blanket over him. He protested and weakly thought but before he knew it, he was back in his bed.

“Too warm,” Izzy complained, trying to push the blanket off of him again.

“It’s your fever. Don’t kick it off, okay?” your voice was surprisingly soothing as you spoke, like you really wanted him to understand and not just do as you said because you said it. “I’ll get some stuff for you in a minute,” you assured, tucking the blanket back into place.

“Are you up for eating?” you asked, stepping back. Izzy just shrugged, feeling completely out of his element. “I’ll get you something small,” you decided with a small nod. “Want some medication?”

“No,” Izzy answered. You just nodded, not pushing him on the matter.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” you promised before gathering up the dirty dishes and dipping out of the cabin.

When you returned again a few minutes later, it was with another tray of items.

Izzy grumpily sat up and let you give him what you brought for him. You got him to drink a full cup of water and then helped him eat a few spoonfuls of soup. He blushed the whole time at the fussing and protesting that he could manage himself, but you just shushed him and did your job.

Izzy drank some more and lay down properly again. You placed a cool damp cloth over his forehead, making him comfortable before telling him to get some sleep. He surprised himself by actually falling asleep, unable to fight his heavy eyelids.

This time, as he slept, you stayed. Sitting by his bedside so you could keep replacing the cloth and keep his temperature down.

You had to pop out of the cabin every now and again throughout the day to tend to other things but you would always return to care for Izzy, even if he fought you every step of the way.

-

On the third day, Izzy’s fever seemed to reach its peak. Which you hoped meant it would start getting better soon.

He ate very little that day but you managed to force him to drink whenever he woke up. When you had been asked to nurse Izzy a little, you had completely planned on giving him plenty of space and time alone since he seemed to enjoy it so much, but that day you barely left his side.

While he slept, you were sitting beside him, rinsing and replacing the cloth on his forehead to help keep him cool.

Your silent routine was interrupted by a quiet whine. You paused, frowning down at the sleeping first mate. He whined again, his brow pinching slightly.

“Shush, just gotta get through the worst of it,” you attempted to soothe him, even if he couldn’t hear you.

Izzy’s face scrunched up as he began to writhe on his cot, like he was having a nightmare of some sort. It was probably a symptom of his fever, or at least worsened by it.

“You’re alright, Iz. Just a bad dream, I’ve got you,” you continued to talk sweet nonsense until he calmed. He hummed slightly when you ran your fingers through his dirty hair, so you continued, happy that it was soothing him.

You smiled as he settled. “There we go, just sleep it off,” you whispered. Izzy let out a small sigh, slipping back into a dreamless sleep.

With a sigh, you stood and began tidying up again. You couldn’t sit around watching Izzy sleep all day, especially when he would most likely be perfectly fine, but you found yourself not really wanting to leave him.

-

The fourth day came around after you managed to pull yourself away from his side to get some sleep. Of course, the first thing you did was grab some food from the galley and went to see Izzy. He was laying on his cot, awake but not looking happy in the slightest. At least he wasn’t trying to get back to work this time.

“Still feeling shitty, huh?” you asked.

“You tell me,” Izzy muttered.

For some reason you felt fond about his grouchiness. “Alright, I brought some brekkie. Hungry?”

Izzy eyed the bowl in your hands. “...could eat…”

You insisted on spoon feeding him even when he fought it. He eventually allowed it, grumbling with each bite he took. The broth was good though, soothing his throat, clearing his sinuses, and warming his belly.

“Ate more than yesterday, that’s good,” you acknowledged.

As you placed the bowl down, Izzy actually asked for something. “Water?”

“Look at that, asking for things, accepting help. You’re growing, doing so well.” You were teasing, of course you were teasing, just joking around. Still, he couldn’t help the way he flushed at the praise. What the fuck? He only asked for some water.

You poured him a cup of water and handed it over without another comment. “If you finish the full cup and I’ll leave you alone until lunch,” you promised.

“If that’s all it takes,” Izzy huffed, bringing the cup up to his mouth.

“Ah, you like me. You haven’t even threatened to stab me once,” you teased.

Izzy distracted himself by finishing the drink, letting you take the cup back once it was empty. He really didn’t need all this doting, and surely he could fight it a little more…

“And we say…” you prompted.

“Fuck off.”

“Come on, Izzy. Say it and I’ll bring an extra treat with lunch.”

“Fucking-” Izzy sighed, knowing you wouldn’t drop this. You had probably earnt it at this point anyway. “Thank you.”

“See, not so difficult,” you smiled, seemingly pleased with him, before pressing a kiss to his temple.

Izzy froze but you didn’t pay it any mind, you just went about tidying up like you always do and headed for the door. “Get some rest. Feel better soon, Iz,” you left him with another sincere smile.

-

You returned to Izzy’s cabin later on that day. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. Can I fucking move now?” Izzy glared at you. He was probably going a little crazy locked up in his cabin for the last few days, and you couldn’t really blame him.

“Nope, not until you’re back in perfect health. Captain’s rules,” you at least looked a little apologetic, “maybe tomorrow, though.”

“Got you some broth,” of course, you had your tray with you, “Roach is making stew for dinner today, think you’re up for that?” 

Izzy huffed and rolled his eyes. “Just some fucking stew.” 

“Izzy, work with me here. Don’t want to give you anything that upsets your stomach,” you sighed, something about it a little pleading.

You were right, he supposed. You only wanted to help, even if Bonnet had fucking ordered you to. “...yeah…stew will be fine,” he gave in.

“Good,” you smiled, bright and genuine again.

You let him feed himself this time, since this time you sat and ate with him. Letting him have half of your orange.

“Since you’re feeling better and not sleeping through the whole day, do you want me to bring you anything for entertainment?” you asked but Izzy just raised an eyebrow at you. “I dunno, like a book or something?” you weren’t even sure if he could read, you had seen him working on the logs but that was a little different.

“I could get Frenchie to sit outside your door and play some songs,” you suggested.

“A book is fine,” Izzy answered quickly before begrudgingly adding, “nothing boring.”

“It will be the most exhilarating book you’ve ever read,” you winked playfully.

-

Since lunch had gone so well, at least in your opinion, you had decided to eat your dinner with Izzy as well. Plus, he was more cognizant than he was yesterday and you thought the company would be good for him even if he didn’t much care for it.

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick? I mean, you don’t have to eat with me,” Izzy eventually questioned after eating in silence.

“Don’t want you to be all isolated and lonely in here. I’ll take the risk,” you shrugged, sounding honest enough. “You’ll just have to nurse me back to health like I have so kindly done for you,” you teased.

“In your fucking dreams,” Izzy scoffed. He was a first mate, not a nurse.

“I bet you’d be the most effective nurse ever, very practical. Terrible bedside manner, though,” you thought out loud, hearing Izzy’s quiet snort of amusement. “Bet you’d just tell the illness to fuck off and it would.”

“Huh, haven’t tried that yet,” he muttered.

“Wouldn’t work on yourself. Bet your illnesses are just stubborn as you are,” you hummed thoughtfully.

At that, Izzy smiled a little to himself. He had to admit that this is kinda…nice.

“Think you’ll be back up on deck soon?” you asked.

“Could have been up there today but you’d snitch to Bonnet,” Izzy shot a halfhearted glare your way. 

“Damn right I would. You need to get fully better or you’re just going to make it worse again,” you chastised. “But maybe the next couple of days, maybe even tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck,” Izzy seemed genuinely relieved. You’ve never met somebody so reluctant to take a break, especially when they obviously needed one.

“That means you need to be caught up on what’s going on up there,” your eyes brightened at the realisation.

“Bet it’s not piracy,” Izzy scoffed.

“I’d say you won that bet, but I have no coin to give you,” you rolled your eyes fondly. “Anyway, here’s everything that has happened since you got sentenced to your cabin…”

You went on to tell him about all of the inane things the crew had gotten up too over the last few days, even going into depth about the most mundane things.

Izzy truly didn’t care about the stupid conversations the crew was having over dinner in the galley, but he found himself listening anyway. Admittedly, he lost the actual words every now and again when he really lost interest in the story, but he still found your voice soothing. Even if he couldn’t recall everything you said, a part of him didn’t want you to stop. He could just finish his stew to the soothing sound of your company.

-

On the fifth day, you might have even said that Izzy seemed excited to see you. As soon as you stepped into the cabin, Izzy perked up. “Thank fuck you’re here.”

“Wow, you’re happy to see me…did you fall out of bed and hit your head?” you squinted in suspicion. 

“No,” Izzy huffed. “No, I’m feeling better. I can be…discharged or whatever the fuck,” he insisted.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you tutted.

“Which is why I’m glad you’ve shown up already,” he rolled his eyes.

“I’m right on time!” 

“Just get on with it!”

“Careful or I’m going to tell Stede you need a few more days bedrest,” you warned sternly, earning a small grumble from Izzy.

You gave him a quick check over, making sure his temperature was back to normal, that the colour had returned to his face. Asked how his throat felt, how tired he was, even though you knew he would most likely lie about anything he could. You had to admit, he did seem a lot better.

“Alright, first mate Hands, I think you’re good to get back to work,” you announced/ “But take it easy. First sniffle or clearing of your throat, as I’m dragging you back down here,” you warned.

“Fine. Now fuck off,” Izzy huffed, waving his hand to dismiss you.

“...I still brought breakfast…might as well eat before heading up,” you reasoned, gesturing towards the tray on his desk. Two servings of porridge that Roach had prepared for the crew this morning. 

“Yeah. Fine, alright,” Izzy accepted the breakfast, not complaining when you sat with him to eat together. “...thanks,” he whispered, his gratitude unprompted and sincere this time, making you smile as you ate another spoonful.

[glasskey]

Nick & June's Mix tape Vol. 1

Today I’m going to be sharing some of my favorite Nick and June tracks that have us all hitting rewind over and over and over and over……..after all, who doesn’t love a good mix tape?

Oranges & Tuna

This is the first time we meet Nick but given June’s familiarity, it’s not the first time she has. In Atwood’s text, Nick sounds like a bit of alright and the POV camera shot when June comes down the stairs IS a touch pervy.

Nick’s working with his sleeves rolled up, sweating and judging by the wanton looks it seems June’s in no particular rush to go shopping. She also seems to know quite a bit about him already, including the fact that he’s single. In her head, June’s already inviting Nick down to the oyster house bar for a drink, a subtle reference to a well-known aphrodisiac. It takes all of 10 seconds for Nick to start flirting with her, by telling June a gag about not being a pescatarian. It’s a fact which June purposefully ignores, in order to return his flirtation, and that’s it, that’s all it takes…..Nick’s fucked.

Throughout the next few episodes we see that Nick can neither believe nor resist June’s audacity. Nick knows he should say something when he sees her legs uncovered but he says nothing and simply stares. The sound of the lid closing on the box in front of him is like a trap snapping shut.

He can’t resist standing waaaaay too close and stroking her hand when he brings her ice, the heat is palpable. Nick now knows he’s in serious trouble and June is left reeling. Throughout season 1 these two are constantly measuring and testing each-others boundaries, but honestly from the second Nick told his tuna fish gag, he may as well have waved a white flag.

You shouldn’t wear anything for me

Sweet mother of Mercy. Apparently the sight of June’s naked body has turned Nick Blaine into the master of the double entendre overnight. Season 1 sees Nick pulling the jokes out left and right, first with the tuna fish gag and now this. Nick can hardly keep a straight face as he delivers it and June barely stifles a chuckle. This casual comment is not only a statement about June never changing her appearance to please him, but also one about how desirable he finds her, naked and unmanicured.

This is also the first time we see these two perform their infamous hand brushing and it’s literally breathtaking for the both of them. It’s a moment steeped in danger, electricity and passion, as you sense them both recalling their previous night together. Glowing lights seem to follow these two around like a spell, and as they intertwine their fingers a luminous orb appears between their hands.

I’d like to say that June ever stood a chance at resisting the foxy driver’s charms but I’d be lying. He’s hot AF, lives less than 200 feet away and flirts with her shamelessly, this was all a done deal long ago. In Atwood’s text, these two can barely keep their hands off each other and Nick is described as absolutely fascinated with her. Not surprisingly then, this scene is closely followed by a knee trembling, face melting kiss that sends June straight from “it can never happen again, sorry Nick” to a dazed mess spelling saucy words during her scrabble game.

Is This It?

Nick thinks that breaking up with June is going to be simple, in fact he seems to think he won’t need to explain himself at all. June is having none of it, this is her one small ray of light in an otherwise dismal existence so Nick had better have a good reason.

He does, he’s already seen one handmaid die and he’s starting to get seriously attached to the new one. Seeing June on the wall just because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself is more than he could bear. This is Nick doing Nick: keep your head down, step aside, stay out of trouble and keep your mouth shut.

June rightfully calls him on his shit, accusing him of being a coward who wants only to be Fred’s whipping boy for the rest of his life. How could he want to live such a small life? It’s a gut punch that leaves Blaine looking suitably ashamed.

Their individual attitudes to “ending up on the wall” speak volumes about who these two are at heart. To June death is everywhere, living in terror isn’t living and the reward is worth the risk. Nick is a survivor, sacrifice for duty and self-preservation is second nature, a small life is better than no life at all. Unfortunately for Nick, his aspirations for a life half lived died the moment he met June Osborne. Before I get into Nick and June volume 2, I’ve got volume 1 of the Lawrence and June mix up next. Back soon.

[mizusswordtip]

Down The Rabbit Hole ⚝ Killian Jones x Reader (18)

find the story on wattpad

summary: Alice's plan to overthrow the Queen of Hearts is thwarted by a dashing pirate with a hook. Years later, after the curse is broken, they reunite once again.

masterlist

We'd been walking for what feels like hours when Hook, who's been leading us, calls out over his shoulder.

"Up ahead. We'll find the compass just over the ridge." I give him a nod to continue walking which he returns. Emma and Snow catch up to me.

"Do you get the feeling he's leading us exactly where Cora wants us? That this whole thing's a trap?" Snow whispers conspiratorially. I purse my lips, having been wondering the same thing the whole time. If she'd asked me yesterday, I would've jumped on that bandwagon without hesitation but... it doesn't make much sense.

"It's defiantly a trap." Emma concurs without hesitation.

"I'm not so sure." I murmer over my shoulder. Emma looks at me in disbelief.

"What? Don't tell me you trust him?" She asks, brows furrowed. Before I can answer she fires off another question. "How do you even know him?"

"He was in Wonderland. Cora forced him to blackmail me into leaving Wonderland." I explain shortly, not having time to get into the nitty gritty of the details.

"So why should we trust him?" Emma asks rhetorically with a suggestive raise of her brow.

"We shouldn't. But... I have a feeling that he's not loyal to Cora." I explain. Despite my own gripes with Hook (selfish, killer, pirate, thief) he doesn't strike me as someone who'd willingly align himself with Cora unless backed into a corner. Or maybe I'm just trying to see the good in him when there may be none. "But keep your guard up regardless." Hook comes to a stop at the tree line. I walk up to stand beside him and let out a heavy sigh at the sight in front of me. A giant beanstalk that reaches up to the clouds.

"Let me guess. The compass is up there?" I ask with a knowing look at Hook.

"Oh yeah." He answers, sending a sly smirk in my direction.

"So we climb?" I ask through an accepting sigh.

"It's not the climb you need to worry about. It's the giant at the top." He informs. I look at the others who look at the beanstalk with differing levels of concern. I take one last deep breath.

"Let's go then."

It only takes us another five minutes to reach the base of the beanstalk. Somehow, it looks even more daunting up close. I shield my eyes with my hand from the sun as I look up.

"It's a little freakier than I remember from the story." Emma comments.

"Reminds me of death." Mulan mutters to herself. My brows furrow.

"Encouraging." Snow snarks.

"A beanstalk reminds you of death?" I can't help but ask. Hook looks to all of us with a sarcastic smile.

"Well, your compass awaits. Shall we?" He asks with a wave of his arm.

"Wait. If these beans create...portals, why not just pick one and go home? Why the compass?" Emma asks.

"I imagine if there were beans, Cora would have used one already." I surmise with a shrug. Hook looks at me and smirks.

"Right you are love, there are no more. Whatever story you think you know is most certainly wrong." He tells Emma.

"There was a guy named Jack and a cow and something about evil giants with treasure and a golden goose." She explains poorly. What does a golden goose have to do with giants? Is the goose a gold color or is it literally gold? "Or harp." She mutters under her breath.

"Sounds like a lovely tale. But the truth's a little more gruesome. The giants grew the beans, but rather than use them for good, they used them to plunder all the lands. Jack and his men fought a terrible war, defeating all but one of the evil giants. The beans were destroyed by the giants as they died. If they couldn't have the magic, then nobody could. Certainly very bad form." Hook says. As he explains, the more this story sounds familiar to me. My father used to tell it to me when I was a little girl. I remember calling the giants 'villains' and my father correcting me. Told me that the victors get to tell the story, not necessarily the heros.

"Why doesn't anyone just go up and grow some more?" Emma asks.

"Because one giant survived. One that even Jack couldn't slay." I repeat my father's words. Hook nods at me in confirmation.

"And we'll have to get past him to..." He starts.

"The magic compass." I finish.

"Indeed. The treasure remains, and amongst it is the compass. Now it will guide us to your land. Cora has the means to open a portal with the wardrobe ashes, but she can't find your land without the compass. Once we get it, we steal the ashes from her, then we're on our way." I almost laugh. He makes it sound so easy. As if we can simply pickpocket the ashes off Cora.

"How do we know you're not just using us to get the compass for Cora?" Mulan asks suspiciously. He looks at her for a moment before turning his gaze to me.

"I already told you why." Comes his answer. His gaze is so intense, hard to look away from. There's something unspoken in his gaze that I can't read. I turn away from him to face the beanstalk.

"Then we better start climbing." I say, starting to head for the beanstalk when Hook's voice stops me.

"Right, so, I failed to mention that the giant enchanted the beanstalk to repel intruders." I stop and clench my jaw. I turn to look at him over my shoulder with an unimpressed look.

"So are we meant to fly up?" I ask sarcastically. He gives me an amused smile.

"No love. I've got a counter spell from Cora." He says, pointing to the cuff on his wrists before holding his bound hands out. "If you'd be so kind." I walk up to him with a sigh, taking the dagger out of my boot. I grab the ropes and cut them with little trouble. I make the mistake of looking up and seeing the soft expression on his face that I'm pretty sure I wasn't meant to see. "Thank you." He says, sounding genuine. What the hell is going on? It's hard to believe he's being genuine after what he's done to me and who he's working with. Could he actually be genuine? I turn away with a swift nod of my head. "I've got one more of these. Alice and one other can come along." My head snaps in his direction, breaking me out of my wandering thoughts.

"I thought you said you only had one other?" I ask. He points down to my sword.

"Yes but that sword you're holding wards off all magic so you don't need a fancy cuff." He explains. I sigh and then look to the others.

"You guys need to decide who then." I tell them with a sigh before turning my attention to the sky.

"Go on, fight it out. Don't be afraid to, you know, really get into it." Hook says sarcastically before turning his attention to me. "Afraid of heights?"

"No. I was imagining what it'd be like to fly." I say before looking over at him. My words are only half a lie. I'm not afraid of heights and I was thinking about what it'd be like to fly. My concern is over whether or not my body can handle the climb. Despite feeling a lot better than before, I'm still malnourished enough that passing out is a possibility. He looks like he wants to push further but simply nods his head, accepting.

"Ladies, in this world we are slaves to time, and ours is running out. In other words, tick tok." Hook says to the others. I look over to see Emma approaching, which doesn't surprise me. I give her a small smile that she returns as Hook places the cuff on her arm.

"I'm glad you're coming along." She tells me.

"Why's that?" I ask with a little laugh.

"Well if I trust anyone to kill a giant, it's the dragon slayer." She says with a raised brow and a smile.

"Actually, it's called a Jabberwocky." Hook corrects lightheartedly.

"That's not- not this time." I stumble over my words but he understands what I'm saying if his raised brows are anything to go by. I smile smugly before starting the climb up the beanstalk.

[awhitehead17]

Sneak Attack

TimKon, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour.

Summary: Kon pays Tim a visit at a time he least expects it. 

Enjoy! :D 

In hindsight he should’ve realised something was off the moment he stepped into his bedroom. If he hadn’t been as tired as he was, Tim would’ve noticed how his bedroom door was left open ajar when he arrived rather than shut and locked as he normally leaves it.

It doesn’t even register in his mind as he opens the door and steps into his own safe haven. The only thing on his mind is his bed, blankets and sleep. He’s exhausted and wants nothing more than his bed and get at least six hours of undisturbed rest. A hopeful wish but one could dream.

Closing the door behind him Tim trudges into his room and beelines for the bathroom, stripping away his suit as he does. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief when his body is freed from the confines of the skin-tight fabric and armour, for the first time all day it feels like he could finally breathe.

When he enters the bathroom he’s only left in his boxers. He does his business which includes brushing his teeth, a strip wash because he can’t be bothered to shower and going to the toilet. By the time he’s finished Tim could barely keep his eyes open. Walking back into his bedroom Tim immediately heads for his bed and not even caring he promptly faceplants onto the mattress with a groan.

What he hadn’t been prepared for is for something to spring up from underneath him and trap him with his blankets. What feels like arms wrap around him encasing him tightly in a fabric prison. Tim yelps at the unexpected attack and any tiredness he had is immediately gone and is replaced with panic and adrenaline.

Tim squirms in the hold trying and failing to get himself free. His vision is obscured and his arms are pinned by his sides with the way the blanket is wrapped around him. He can only imagine he looks like a blanket burrito. Only his legs are free but even as he kicks out he gets no leverage, his feet slide uselessly along the bed sheets.

“Tim, it’s me! Chill dude, it’s only me!”

At the sound of the familiar voice Tim ceases his struggling and frowns. “Kon?” An answering chuckle reaches his ears and Tim squirms again. “You asshole! What the hell?”

While Tim couldn’t see it he could feel Kon shifting on the mattress, and then the fabric covering his face is moved away and he’s finally able to see the person who decided to attack him in his bed. Kon’s wearing an unbashful grin that makes Tim suddenly forget why he’s annoyed, warmth and fondness spreads through him as it always does when he sees his boyfriend smile.

It’s when Tim goes to reach up and cup Kon’s face and finds his arms unable to move that he remembers why he’s annoyed at Kon. All feelings of warmth melt away and Tim scowls at Kon. “Why attack me in my bed?”

Kon’s arms circle Tim’s blanket encased body and he hugs him tightly, Kon’s head then rests on top of Tim’s. “I haven’t seen you all day. I figured this would be a good time to see you.”

“You could’ve used the door like a normal person instead of ambushing me. How long have you been waiting here?”

“Normal is overrated, this is more fun. I’m surprised you didn’t notice me,” Kon lifts his head up and examines him closely, “you’re not injured are you?”

His comment reminds Tim of how tired he is. Now he knows he’s not under attack the adrenaline leaves his body leaving exhaustion in its wake. Tim shakes his head. “No I’m fine, just tired. It’s been a long day.” He shifts uncomfortably, still trapped in the blanket. “Let me go.”

Kon finally frees him of his blanket prison and together they settle down on the mattress underneath the blanket on their sides facing one another. Even though Tim hadn’t been expecting Kon - he really needs to work on his awareness when tired apparently - his boyfriend’s presence certainly wasn't unwelcome.

Kon sends him a soft smile as he strokes Tim’s cheek with his thumb, Tim hums, closing his eyes, and relaxes into the touch and further into the mattress and pillow under him.

“I came here the moment you entered the Tower. I was already hiding by the time you entered the room.”

Not opening his eyes Tim huffs, he’s halfway to falling asleep. Grabbing Kon’s wrist to stop his movements Tim presses a kiss to his palm before linking their fingers together and brings their joined hands down to his chest holding them close. Kon laughs and lets Tim do as he pleases. They lie in comfortable silence for a while and Tim finds himself drifting off to sleep feeling safe and contented.

Sometime later he jerks awake when Kon suddenly shifts beside him. His boyfriend frees his hand from his grasp and turns onto his back and before Tim could voice his protest Kon’s arms grab him and pull him across the bed until he's pressed up against Kon’s side. When Kon guides Tim's head to rest on his shoulder Tim finally gets on board with the new arrangement.

Easily settling against him Tim relaxes once more and lets himself slowly drift back into unconsciousness. The last thing he remembers before finally falling asleep is Kon pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

[tev-the-random]

So I may have come up with a whole Villain Jimmy AU...

Listen. I have way too many feelings about the events of Jimmy's Empires S2 Episode 31 and the immediate following stream. I also have way, way too many feelings about whatever the hell is happening in Sausage's and Shubble's lore and whatever is to come in Lizzie's, so I decided to only indulge one brainrot at a time and came up with... an interesting concept? I dunno, I'm easily entertained—

(There's a TLDR at the end if you don't want to read my insane and incessant ramblings o3o)

Ok so, after Walmart WRA kills Jimmy on the bridge for the kicks and giggles, Jimmy really starts questioning just what respect is and who his friends actually are. The conclusion? Dude has absolutely zero friends. Sure, he has this truce going on with Joel, and Katherine has been somewhat trustworthy so far. But actual friends? Nada. Closest thing he had were Scar and Tango, but they're gone now and he didn't even get a proper goodbye. His town is empty. He's alone.

Jimmy may be quick to anger, but this might be the first time he actually allows himself to be sad about it. There's something much more painful than rage crawling inside of him; be it guilt, self-hatred, loneliness, betrayal, there's just so much he's been burying under all the fighting that he can barely breathe through it all now. But once it's over, Jimmy's left with a strange feeling of clarity. This cold bitterness and complicated self-awareness that would turn into something far more sinister in the future.

The next day is really what decides his next course of action, though. He's touring the Old Sheriff around the server, kind of holding onto the last hope that someone might want him to stay after all. But then Fwhip comes along and decides that no, he doesn't get to have this, so they start bickering like the old divorced couple they are, like nothing's changed. Somehow, Fwhip manages to charm his way into the Old Sheriff's good books despite everything that Jimmy has said about his ex-deputy.

Martyn (that's what I'm calling him, he doesn't get his own name now) laughs at his jokes, makes little comments that... sound so familiar to Jimmy. This is how it all started: little comments — and this is how it's going to end. Maybe the Old Sheriff has good intentions. Maybe he does have the intention to stick with Jimmy and be a friend/mentor to him. But Jimmy, still raw from his most recent disillusionment, can't bear the thought of befriending someone only to have the rug pulled from under him again.

So Jimmy leaves Tumble Town in the dead of night.

Now, his first objective is to bring himself back to normal. He had to admit, no matter how hard he tried, it was hard to gather any respect from others when he was trapped in the body of a literal toy. He had already asked Joel to reverse this nonsense, but the god only offhandedly mentioned that this was Jimmy's true form and that it was how he was meant to look — which Jimmy took as "I have no idea how to, my name is Joel and I'm irresponsible with my powers and incompetent and also really short". So his next destination is the Witch Academy.

He had heard about the them from Shelby. She was a nice witch — or, well, nice enough. She was clearly going through some stuff at the moment, which is why he thought it would be better not to ask her for help to begin with — and was clearly able to change people's bodies, whether intentionally or not. So surely the people who taught her magic would be able to help him, right?

Little did Jimmy know that most witches do not, in fact, give a damn about helping other people. After travelling far and wide, he explained his curse to them, and all they did was close the door on his face.

Well, he's not having it! If the witches won't help him, he'll find someone else who will! This is when Jimmy starts travelling around in search of someone, anyone who could undo his curse so he may start his life anew. Through all the ensuing shenanigans, he gathers some... interesting allies.

It's not that he wants to ally himself with undead pirates; he may not be a sheriff anymore, but that doesn't mean he's about to become a criminal! But alas, when the boat he's travelling with is captured, it's not like he can do much else.

Jimmy is spared due to his... interesting predicament. Well, surely this tiny tiny man could be useful! Besides, didn't he use to live close to Pirate Joe? So in exchange for some information on Skeletron's rival and helping them get some treasure for a little while, Jimmy is dropped off at the next port with directions to a shady wizard who might be able to solve his problem.

When he gets to said wizard, they are already expecting him. You see, this is the same wizard who gave Scott his magic eye, and although I'm sure we'll get some actual canon explanation to it eventually, this is an AU in which the wizard may have some... ulterior motives. And they may or may not have been spying on a certain god who lives very close to Chromia. But that's a story for another time!

Jimmy wakes up the next day his normal-sized, human self again! It's almost overwhelming, how much he loves his own body right now. His chest quite literally aches... and that's when he notices a heart-shaped scar on it.

The wizard is still around. They explain to him that, to deal with the curse, they had to remove his heart. Literally. They stored it in this lamp, which emits a blinding red glow — an indicative of how strong it is, how much it feels. The farther away he is from it, the more detached he will be from his feelings. Although that would mean he should probably carry it close at all times, he should not forget that it is still his actual heart; you better keep it safe, kid.

Now that the deed is done, the only thing that the wizard asks for is a front row view when Stratos falls. Jimmy carries a lot of grief, clearly, and if they know anything about him — which they shouldn't, but they strangely do, — he is going to get back at the people who made him miserable for so long. It just so happens that the wizard also has a beef with Joel, so really, they both win in the end!

After some not-so-subtle persuasion and reminders of all the horrible things Jimmy had to endure in the past, the wizard manages to convince our ex-sheriff into going back to the empires to truly bring an end to this story of pain. He's never going to be able to start anew unless he gets rid of all traces of his weak past self, right? His enemies deserve to reap the hate they've sown fashioned in cold blood, right?

And so Jimmy concocts a plan, gathers resources and new (purely professional and with no emotional attachment, never again) allies, and returns to Tumble Town a new man with a new name. In the day, he's a charming and friendly traveller sneaking his way into the emperors' hearts. At night, he's a dangerous bandit carrying a lamp of dwindling red light, playing a game of metaphorical chess with the authorities to bring the pieces of his plan closer together.

-

TL;DR Jimmy leaves the empires bitter with his friends, searches for a way to turn back into a regular human and finds a wizard who does so in exchange for being able to watch the world burn. To reverse the curse, he had to lose his heart, which he now carries in a red lantern closely tied to his feelings. He goes back home for revenge.

Calling this one the Red Light Bandit AU òwó