#when i am holding sharp or hot objects

[lawrenceofbessarabia]

my brother is like that one aggravating normie coworker with a completely backwards read on your personality whose idea of being chummy is stepping all over your boundaries except he's related to me and he keeps ruining my things

[yrlocalwerewolf]

caitlyn kiramman x reader hc's ! ✩ (MEN DNI.)

this girl so always organized, always striving for perfection. no matter what it is. her work, her clothes, house, even you. fixing your necklace or brushing that piece of hair out of your face.

she doesn't take hot showers anymore after what happened with Jinx because she's scared of someone appearing out of the steam again. but if you insist on taking a hot shower with her maybe she'll consider it.

caitlyn loves cuddling with you. especially after her shift as an enforcer, when she's all tired.

this woman hardly drinks, but she always keeps her mother's favorite champagne in her pantry (even if she doesn't particularly like it).

if she does get drunk, it's almost always off wine. she gets really affectionate, clinging to you and slurring drunkingly about how much she loves you and leaving marks all over your face and neck with her lipstick.

after she lost her eye, she couldn't sharpshoot for a while after. due to her depth perception getting messed up. she also struggled to track moving objects and judge distances properly. so before she fully adjusted to the lack of vision and the after effects she was grabbing things that were actually farther away then she thought. you teased her about it, and even if she rolled her eye with a huff she found it endearing.

jealous, possessive, fucking everything. even if she even sees someone looking at you the wrong way, or dare flirt with you, she's sure to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you away.

she's always touching you in public. holding your hand or arm, a hand on your knee under the dining table. you're her girl, and nobody can take that was from her.

whenever she leaves hickeys on you, caitlyn always admires them. if you want to hide them, of course she'll let you, but she'd rather you show them off.

she calls you hers. not in a 'this is my property' way, but 'we're meant to be together' way.

always spoiling you. you mentioned a book you wanted? it'll be here in a week. new movie or a concert you want to see? she just got you front row tickets. she loves hearing about your hobbies and will always get you stuff relating to them.

black cat energy, but she owns two dobermans that she used to go hunting with, but usually just takes them on walks and hangs out with them now .

early bird. she sleeps late due to cases she has, but you'll never catch her not getting up at six am sharp to get ready for the day. but if you beg her to stay for a bit longer and it's cold... well, everyone comes a little late to work once in a while, right?

total sap. always going on dates with you or giving you silly pickup lines and flirting with you.

a/n : i don't have any good fic ideas man ,,,,,, send requests please !!!! also the dog thing is canon :)

[cruel-seduction]

Tom Riddle Headcanon || 18+

(୨୧) 6’3 | Tall, intimidating, and he knows it. He’s tall, but not towering—it’s the kind of height that lets him loom over you just enough to make you uncomfortable in the best way. His presence is magnetic, commanding, like he’s taking up more space than he actually does. (You think you can hold eye contact with this man without second-guessing your life choices? Good luck.)

(୨୧) Lean, but it’s that sharp, calculated kind of lean. Like he was sculpted out of pure ambition and dark magic. His cheekbones? You could slice your finger on them, and his jawline looks like it was chiseled by Salazar Slytherin himself.

(୨୧) He doesn’t have He’s not bulky—oh no, Tom believes muscles are for people who need to physically overpower others. His strength is in his mind, but don’t mistake that for fragility. He’s all sharp edges and taut sinew, like a blade just waiting to cut. Tom has power. Subtle, unassuming strength that hits you when he casually pins someone to the wall or clenches his fist during an argument, making every vein in his forearm pop. (And suddenly you’re wondering if you enjoy being terrified of a man.)

WE LOVE A MAN WHO COULD STRANGLE US WITH ONE HAND AND STILL LOOK PERFECT DOING IT!!!! 

(୨୧) Abs? Oh, he has them. But they’re not flashy gym-bro abs—they’re carved out of years of silent rage and perfectionism. You’d only see them under candlelight, the shadows teasing you just enough to make you question every moral fiber in your body.

(୨୧) Tom doesn’t work out. Ever. He’s too busy reading ancient texts and rewriting the definition of “overachiever.” Yet somehow, he has the kind of body that looks like it was sculpted by dark magic itself. His posture is impeccable, every movement deliberate and precise, like he’s constantly two steps ahead of everyone else.

(୨୧) Long fingers, veins visible, nails always perfectly kept. These are the hands of someone who can cast a killing curse with chilling accuracy—or caress your skin like you’re the most fragile thing in the world.

(We LOVE a man who could both destroy and cherish us with the same hands!!!)

(୨୧) His face? The blueprint for the resting evil smirk. He doesn’t even have to try to look dangerous. One glance, one slight quirk of his lips, and suddenly you’re doing whatever he wants without thinking twice. (You: “Why am I holding this cursed object?” Tom: “Because I asked nicely.” …And now you’re smiling like an idiot while the Horcrux slowly sucks away your soul. Love that for you!)

(୨୧) Hotness Level: Nuclear

Tom doesn’t just walk into a room—he owns it. His hotness isn’t in your face; it’s insidious, sneaking up on you until suddenly you’re wondering how you got trapped in his web.

His energy? He doesn’t need to ask for your soul. You’d willingly hand it over while thanking him for the privilege.

And when he’s angry? Oh, you feel it. That piercing stare, the slight tilt of his head, the way his voice drops an octave just to let you know you’ve made a very, very big mistake.

THERE’S HOT, AND THEN THERE’S TOM RIDDLE HOT—THE KIND THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO APOLOGIZE FOR BREATHING TOO LOUDLY.

(୨୧) A Walking Manipulation Manual Tom doesn’t ask for things. He makes you want to give them to him. Every glance, every word is carefully calculated to pull you into his orbit. He’s not just charming—he’s dangerously compelling. (One conversation with him, and suddenly you’re questioning your entire moral compass. Like, “Oh, you want me to help you break into the Restricted Section? Sure, Tom. Anything for you.”)

(୨୧) Validation is His Drug Let’s be real: Tom craves approval like it’s oxygen.Tom will deny it to his last breath, but he needs to be the best. He doesn’t just want to succeed; he wants to be the only option. It’s not enough for him to win—everyone else has to lose. (And don’t get me started on how he reacts to praise. Compliment him in the right way, and you’ll see that flicker of pride in his dark eyes before he schools his face into that unreadable mask again. We love a secretly vulnerable king.) He’s spent his whole life proving he’s better than everyone else, and it’s not just for pride—it’s because he doesn’t know how to not seek validation. He thrives on being the teacher’s pet, the top student. Maybe it’s because he never got his parents validation. But trust me when I say he is a bitch for teacher’s validation. (But let’s be clear: the second you start overshadowing him, he’ll knock you down a peg faster than you can say Avada Kedavra.)

(୨୧) Control Freak Everything about Tom screams precision. His desk? Immaculate. His spells? Flawless. His plans? Perfectly executed. He doesn’t just like control—he needs it. Chaos makes him itch, which is ironic considering he’s the embodiment of quiet destruction. (And He will make sure you’re oriented too) 

(୨୧) Manipulative but Subtly Possessive He doesn’t say you’re his. No, Tom makes it clear in subtler ways—like the way he rests a hand on your back just as someone else looks at you too long. Or the cold, sharp glare he gives anyone who dares speak to you without his permission. (A man who makes you feel like a queen while also terrifying everyone else around you.)

(୨୧) Unyielding Ambition Tom doesn’t just want success—he wants power. He wants to be remembered, revered, and feared. He’s the guy who’ll smile sweetly at a professor while planning to steal their research for his own gain. He has a goal. He will do anything to get there. Anything can include from threatening someone to killing someone. He is, as poet says a psycho. 

Tom Riddle | The Duality

(୨୧) The Charm is a Weapon His voice? Silky smooth, with just enough edge to keep you on your toes. He’s polite, refined, and utterly disarming. But behind that charming smile is a predator watching his prey. (You’re falling for him, and you don’t even realize it until it’s too late. And honestly? You don’t even mind.)

(୨୧) Dark, Brooding, and Mysterious Tom’s the guy sitting alone in the library, surrounded by ancient tomes, quill scratching quietly against parchment. He’s untouchable, aloof, and yet somehow you can’t stop staring. (You just know he’s plotting something, and you want in on it. Even if it’s dangerous. Especially if it’s dangerous.)

(୨୧) The Possessive Gentleman He’ll hold the door open for you, pull out your chair, and offer you his arm as you walk. But don’t be fooled—this isn’t just gentlemanly courtesy. This is Tom Riddle subtly marking you as his. (Imagine him offering you his coat and then hexing anyone who dares comment on it. THAT’S the energy.)

Tom Riddle|| Personality 

(୨୧) He’s the Most Dangerous Kind of Asshole—Polished and Calculated Tom isn’t like Mattheo, who might yell across the hallway for a laugh. No, Tom is refined, cold, and deliberate. When he doesn’t like you, you won’t hear him shouting about it—he’ll make you feel it. He’ll dismantle your self-esteem with just a few carefully chosen words delivered with a sharp smile. (“A shame you couldn’t understand the assignment. I suppose not everyone’s meant for greatness.” Translation: You’re an idiot, and he’s better than you.)

(୨୧) He’s Addicted to Control Every aspect of Tom’s life is planned. His work is immaculate, his appearance is flawless, and his ambitions are unshakable. He thrives on structure because chaos reminds him of what he came from—something he’s desperate to leave behind. Don’t ever try to surprise Tom; he’ll take it as a personal offense. He hates unpredictability because it’s the one thing he can’t manipulate.

(୨୧) A Master of Masking His True Self Tom can charm anyone. Teachers adore him. Classmates admire him—or at least pretend to, because who wants to get on Tom Riddle’s bad side? He wears his “perfect student” persona like armor, and it’s nearly impenetrable. (But let’s be real, you know he’s sneaking into the Restricted Section at 2 a.m., whispering spells under his breath like it’s his birthright.)

(୨୧) Unhinged Beneath the Surface Tom doesn’t snap in loud, dramatic outbursts. No, his anger is a quiet, simmering thing, so much worse because you never see it coming. He’ll stare you down with a look so cold you’ll swear the temperature dropped, and then suddenly— “I suggest you choose your next words carefully. You won’t like what happens otherwise.” (And when he does lose it? You better pray you’re not in the blast radius because that’s some “destroy-everything-in-sight” level fury.)

Tom Riddle | Relationships and Obsession

(୨୧) Emotionally Unavailable, But Intensely Possessive Tom doesn’t do feelings. Or at least, that’s what he tells himself. He views relationships like he views everything else in his life: something to control. But when he does fixate on someone? It’s all-consuming, suffocating, and terrifyingly intense. He won’t shout “you’re mine” from the rooftops. Instead, he’ll show it in the way he glances at anyone who gets too close to you, the subtle squeeze of his hand on your waist, the icy calm he maintains when someone dares flirt with you. (“You’re being watched, princess. I’d think twice before entertaining fools like that again.”)

(୨୧) Manipulative in the Most Beautiful Way Tom has mastered the art of making you think his darkest ideas are your idea. He’ll twist your words, your emotions, until you’re second-guessing yourself and believing that he’s the only one who truly understands you. (“You don’t need them. They’ll only disappoint you. I’m the one who’s always been here, haven’t I?”) (Yes, it’s toxic, but are we complaining? Nope. Absolutely not.)

(୨୧) Softness is Reserved for You and You Only Tom is cold to everyone—except you. When it’s just the two of you, he lets his walls down just enough to show you glimpses of the boy beneath the monster. He’s still composed, but his voice softens, his touch gentles. He’ll sit beside you in the library, his hand brushing yours as he murmurs, “You’re brilliant, you know. Far more than they deserve.” (That’s right. You’re his weakness, and we’re eating that up like it’s our last meal.)

Tom Riddle | Dark Habits and Quirks

(୨୧) Obsessive Overachievement If Tom gets less than perfect marks on anything, he’ll lose sleep over it. He’ll re-study every detail of the assignment until it’s engraved into his mind. (If you try to comfort him, he’ll glare and say, “Mediocrity is unacceptable.” …Okay, Tom, calm down.)

(୨୧) No Time for Fun or Friends Tom doesn’t “hang out.” He doesn’t do parties or casual drinks with the boys. His version of “fun” is solving an ancient magical riddle or perfecting a spell no one else has dared attempt. (Though I imagine he secretly finds your mundane activities fascinating. He’ll pretend he’s annoyed, but he’s watching you decorate a cake like, “How… how does one enjoy this?”)

(୨୧) Petty in the Most Refined Way Tom won’t call you out in public, but he will ruin your life in ways you don’t even realize until it’s too late. (“Oh, did you fail the test? Strange. I suppose all that time gossiping didn’t leave you much room to study.” Cue his perfect grade plastered on the board.)

(୨୧) Refuses to Eat Like a Normal Human Being He’s the type to skip meals because he “doesn’t have time for such trivialities.” When he does eat, it’s methodical, quiet, and eerily polite. (You could be scarfing down chips, and Tom’s over here delicately slicing his food into perfect pieces. Honestly, it’s infuriating and hot at the same time.)

(୨୧)  When Tom Realized He Was in Love Tom was the last person to admit he was capable of love. He didn’t need it. In fact, he despised the very idea of vulnerability. At first, he simply enjoyed the control, the power he had over you, the way you seemed so easily ensnared in his web. But then something changed.

It wasn’t dramatic. No hearts aflutter, no sudden epiphany. Instead, it was little moments—the way your laugh made his heart tighten, the way his thoughts lingered on you when he was supposed to be focused on his next conquest. It started to feel like something deeper. The first sign? He found himself doing small things for you, things that felt personal—that were not for his image, but just for you.

Like when you were late for a class, and Tom “accidentally” got your notes for you—notes he knew you didn’t need but knew you’d appreciate. Or when he made sure the books you wanted were always ready for you in the library, despite the fact that he despised wasting his time on “mundane tasks.” He would act as if it was no big deal, but his eyes would linger on you a moment too long, watching you with a touch of something he refused to name.

(୨୧) When He Realized He Loved You

Tom didn’t have some grand epiphany. It was a slow, torturous process of denial. But the moment he knew? It was after you smiled at him after a particularly heated argument about something inconsequential. You stood your ground, refused to back down, and still looked at him like he wasn’t the monster he feared he was. He walked away, but later that night, when the castle was silent, he whispered the words into the dark, testing them out as if saying them aloud would make them feel less… dangerous. "I love her."

(୨୧) His “Confession” Was Terrifyingly Intense

Tom doesn’t stumble through his words like Mattheo might. No, when Tom confesses, it’s calculated and deliberate—but still deeply unsettling.

“You’ve done something to me,” he said, his voice dangerously low, his gaze piercing. “I don’t know what it is, but I can’t stop thinking about you. And I won’t. So you’re going to stay by my side, because that’s where you belong.”

(Translation: We are gonna stay together forever. And we belong with each other. )

(୨୧) Tom’s Denial and “Caring” Moments When Tom started feeling what people call “love,” he fought it. He refused to let himself admit it, convinced that emotions were a weakness. He never said “I love you”—not in the way that other people did. Instead, it was subtle. Insidious. He’d show his affection in the smallest, most frustratingly subtle ways. He wouldn’t bring you flowers or offer grand gestures. No. Tom’s “love” was found in the way he’d drag you into the darkness of the restricted section when no one was watching, the way his fingers brushed yours for a split second before he pulled away, pretending he didn’t want to touch you.

And he definitely wouldn’t say “I love you” unless absolutely necessary. He didn’t need to. His actions spoke louder.

But then, one evening, it just… slipped out. You were sitting together in his private little corner of the library, your laughter echoing in the otherwise silent space. Tom, for once, seemed genuinely relaxed, his usually tense frame at ease. He was looking at you, his gaze dark but softened—something that wasn’t there before.

“You... make everything easier,” he muttered, almost to himself. When you raised an eyebrow, he didn’t immediately elaborate. Instead, he just leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “It’s ridiculous how much I care about you.” and you just smiled and pecked his lips.

There was no "I love you," not in so many words. But you heard it, and it made your heart do something strange—flutter, maybe? But you weren’t sure if you were imagining it because Tom's voice was still so casual. Like everything he said was just... a matter of fact.

(୨୧) Praise Where It Matters Most

Tom doesn’t throw compliments around lightly. When he says something nice, it’s like being struck by lightning. His words carry weight.

“You’re brilliant,” he’d murmur, his voice low, his gaze intense. “More than anyone else here. Don’t ever let them make you think otherwise.”

(And yes, you’d be a puddle on the floor because Tom’s version of praise feels like a rare, precious gift.)

(୨୧) Tom’s Trust and Relationship Dynamics Here’s the thing: Tom doesn’t get jealous. He’s above it. It’s not in his nature. If you’re his, you’re his, and no one dares to get in the way. He doesn’t need to question your loyalty, because in his mind, the moment he chose you, he is gonna trust you more than anyone. For him you’re never at fault but the other person is gonna die. It’s not that he’s insecure—it’s that he knows you would never cheat on him. Why would you? You have everything you could ever need in him.

He doesn’t even feel the need to keep tabs on you, though don’t get it twisted—he is watching, but he does it from the shadows. If you’re not at his side, he trusts that you’ll come back. You always come back. And if you don’t, well… that’s where things get a little interesting.

He’s not showing you off like Mattheo might; he’s staking his claim.

If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, you’ll feel the shift in his demeanor immediately.

“Do they think they’re worthy of your attention?” he’ll whisper, his tone deceptively calm. “They’re not. Let me remind them.”

(Spoiler: He will. And it won’t be pretty.)

(୨୧) Acts of Service, But Darker

Tom will do things for you, but it’s always with a hidden motive. Did someone upset you? He’ll “take care of it.” Did you want something rare or hard to find? He’ll get it for you, no questions asked.

“Consider it handled,” he’ll say with a ghost of a smile. But you know better than to ask how he handled it.

(୨୧) The Gaslighting Is Unreal

If you ever try to put distance between you and Tom, he’ll make you question everything.

“Why would you leave? After everything we’ve built together?” His voice will crack just enough to make you hesitate.

And when you falter, he’ll pull you back in with a kiss so intense it leaves you breathless, murmuring, “I can’t lose you. Don’t you see? You’re my weakness.”

(୨୧) First Kiss

It happened in the library, of course. You were studying, lost in your notes, and he was pretending to read while stealing glances at you. He didn’t plan it, but you looked up and caught him staring.

“What?” you asked, tilting your head with that infuriatingly perfect smile.

He leaned in before he could stop himself, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips met yours. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was intense, consuming, like he was staking a claim. When he pulled back, his expression was unreadable.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured before returning to his book as if nothing had happened.

(୨୧) The Reality of Tom Riddle’s Love

With Tom, everything is earned. He doesn't just give his heart away, and certainly not without demanding something in return. But for you? You’ll always have his trust. You’ll always have his attention. You’ll always know that beneath that cold exterior, he’s obsessed.

Tom Riddle | Intimacy and the Smut

(୨୧) With Tom Riddle, intimacy is an art—meticulous, calculated, and suffused with a dark intensity that leaves you trembling in its wake. He isn’t one for rushed encounters or fleeting passions. No, when Tom takes you, it’s deliberate, almost ceremonial, like he’s claiming something he already knows belongs to him.

(୨୧) The Build-Up Foreplay with Tom is a slow burn, a game of control that he always wins. He knows exactly how to make you crave him without even laying a finger on you. His voice, low and commanding, is enough to send shivers down your spine. He has this way of leaning in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs things that are simultaneously a praise and a promise.

“You look exquisite when you’re begging, darling,” he whispers, his hand ghosting along the curve of your neck, stopping just short of touching you fully.

Tom thrives on anticipation. He’ll spend what feels like an eternity trailing his fingers across your skin, watching your reactions with a sharp, almost predatory focus. Every gasp, every arch of your body—it’s all cataloged in his mind, stored away for when he decides to unravel you completely.

The way he kisses you is enough to leave you breathless. It’s not hurried or frenzied; it’s controlled, methodical. He tilts your chin up with a single finger, his lips slanting over yours with a precision that makes your knees weak.

When he finally touches you, it’s overwhelming. His hands are strong, commanding, but there’s a certain reverence in the way he holds you, like he’s savoring every inch of your skin.

(୨୧) The Act Tom is not gentle, but he’s not reckless either. He knows exactly how to toe the line between pleasure and pain, how to push you to the edge without ever letting you fall. He’s all about control—his control over you, your body, your mind.

His stamina is almost otherworldly. Where others might falter, Tom thrives, his focus unwavering as he pushes you past your limits. He doesn’t stop until you’re completely spent, your body trembling beneath his, your voice hoarse from calling his name.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with dark amusement as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Falling apart so beautifully for me. Are you even aware of how perfect you are?”

He loves to whisper things into your ear, things that make your cheeks flush and your heart race.

“You’re mine,” he growls, his voice rough and commanding. “Every part of you. Do you understand that?”

And when you nod, he smirks, his lips ghosting over yours.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft but firm.

(୨୧) Pet Names and Praise Tom isn’t overly creative with pet names, but the ones he uses are potent.

Darling: His go-to, spoken with a dark edge that makes your knees weak.

My love: When he’s feeling particularly possessive, usually whispered against your skin.

Good girl: Said in a way that makes your heart race and your mind spin.

Perfect: Because to him, you are, and he never lets you forget it.

(୨୧) Roughness and Domination Tom doesn’t shy away from being rough. His hands grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his teeth graze your neck in a way that makes you shiver, and his pace is relentless. He loves the way your body reacts to him, the way you cling to him, desperate and needy.

“You can take it,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. “I know you can. You’re stronger than you think, my love.”

And when you finally break, when you can’t hold back the cries of pleasure that spill from your lips, Tom smirks, his satisfaction evident in the dark gleam of his eyes.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers, his lips pressing against your temple. “Always so perfect.”

(୨୧) Aftercare Despite his roughness, Tom isn’t cruel. Once the heat of the moment has passed, he softens ever so slightly. He doesn’t say much, but his actions speak volumes. He’ll run his fingers through your hair, his touch surprisingly tender, and press soft kisses against your forehead.

“You did well, darling,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Rest now. I’ll take care of everything.”

And he does. Because while Tom Riddle might be a lot of things—manipulative, calculating, and intense—when it comes to you, he’s nothing short of devoted.

[hydrangeapartridge]

Rook stumbles upon Emmrich shaving

‌Rook unceremonisouly opened the flaps to the necromancer's tent.

"Emmrich we're leaving so-"

She stopped mid sentence, surprised to find her most recently recruited companion standing before a foldable table full of cosmetic products, holding a mirror with one hand and his cheeks lathered with shaving cream.

Emmrich turned to her, holding up his shaving brush.

"Ah Rook, apologies. It seems I am getting a bit tardy"

Rook froze. Oddly she felt like she just interrupted an intimate moment. Emmrich was dressed in his usual flanel pants and a cream undershirt. His crisp fancy white shirt and his green vest were neatly folded on a wooden stool. She never saw him in such a state of undress and given how many layers he usually wore, she almost felt as if she was intruding on him completely naked.

"I usually manage to be done before you wake. It seems I miscalculated today. I'll be quick, I promise" Emmrich told her before getting back to his previous occupation.

It never occurred to her that he shaved every day. Which was really silly of her obviously; he didn’t magically end up looking dashing and fresh when running around in the wilderness. Despite how he seemed to make everything look simple, it took work, even for him. His camp habits clashed with those of companions like Harding and Taash but Lucanis and Neve liked a bit more comfort in camp.

Rivain’s sun was up early and blazing hot, which explained why Rook didn’t sleep in today. But oh was she grateful it allowed her to see Emmrich grooming.

Despite her urge to stay focused on Emmrich, Rook’s attention was suddenly drawn to a moving form to her side. She soon spotted Manfred running towards Emmrich with a razor, like a disaster waiting to happen.

"Manfred shaves you?" She asked alarmingly.

"Of course not. Manfred is my assistant not my manservant" Emmrich replied, more amused than offended. He wipped his hands clean on a towel and took the razor from Manfred with a small "thank you" and an approving nod of his head.

"Right. I guess I wouldn't let him near my throat with those sharp blades either..." Rook commented, but her humour didn't seem to perturb Emmrich.

"Oh but you'd be surprised with how dexterous he is ! And everyday he makes progress. He's capable of serving tea without spilling a drop now!" Emmrich praised, visibly proud of his spirit protégé.

The necromancer turned to the mirror, which Manfred now held, and started angling the blade towards his cheek the second he stopped talking. Rook watched mesmerized as he shaved a first stripe and elegantly rinced the blade before he continued. Talking about being dexterous… The precisison of his movements, the way his long and elegant fingers, yet to be adorned with his numerous rings, handled the dangerous object near his adam apple, made something stirr inside her. Something warm and improper.

She watched the lean muscles of his arms flex, seeing them free of a shirt for the first time. Her eyes traveled down irresistibly, and below the upper part of his undershirt, she could spot the birth of a small patch of dark chest hair.

"Did you need something else Rook?" Emmrich's voice startled her. His tone was lower than she ever heard it and it made her stomach flip. She looked up to find his brown gaze on her, and it felt oddly intense in the dim light of the tent.

"No. We'll leave when you're done" She hastily declared, internally cursing herself for stuttering.

Emmrich smiled kindly, but there was a mysterious glint in his usually soft eyes. "I won't be long, I promise. I've got practice"

The way he said those last words shouldn't make her feel how she felt.

Once out of the tent, Rook flopped beside the dying campfire with an annoyed groan, burrying her face in her hands in embarassement. Shit. She knew him for a few days and already she was crushing on Professor Volkarin so hard it made her act stupid.

She told herself she would get a grip, but later that day, when she walked alongside him, enamored with the way he talked about studying the flora of Rivain, she caught wafts of the scent of his after shave, a citrussy but rich smell that she instantly wanted to breathe more of. She lost track of what he was saying as she though about caressing the smooth skin of his perfectly shaven cheeks, and inhale his cologne just under his ear where it would mix with a scent that was only his and that she longed to discover. She wondered how his well kept mustache would feel scratching her skin an-

He asked her a question then, and she had no clue what he just said so she only smiled like an idiot. He forgave her with a small chuckle, blaming it on the scorching sun, and repeated his inquiry like the kind gentleman he was.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Damn she had it bad.

(More EmmRook on my blog or here on AO3)

[amostimprobabledream]

The Sweetest Violence (Homelander x Reader)

Just a lil drabble, also available on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57696463

"Sssh..." Blood. So much blood. The fetid stink of it is everywhere. It fills up your nostrils and chokes up your senses. It's thick and sticky in your hair, hot and drying in stiff patches on your skin. You feel like you could take a hundred showers, soak in the bath for hours and hours and it still wouldn't get rid of the sensation of blood clinging to your flesh. Homelander doesn't seem to notice or care about the blood. He carries you easily, clasped to is chest, his own face splashed with blood, dark patches of it staining his blonde hair. The brilliant blue of his eyes seems to burn through a streaky veil of scarlet, made all the more vivid by the contrast. "It's all right," he whispers to you as he walks, his soothing tone at odds with the gore-soaked state of him. "It's okay now. Ssh. You must've been scared, huh?" Yes. You were. The people who took you saw you as nothing more than an object, a tool with which they could use against Homelander. You could tell by the impersonal way they handled you, the way they barley looked at you and didn't bat an eyelid at your screams and shouts. That scared you more than anything, the dead, cold looks in their eyes, like you were trying to communicate with machines, not people. If they could be so indifferent to your fear and confusion, what would they care about doing more permanent damage?

So, when you heard it - the rush of air and signature boom of one of Homelander's signature landings, those dramatic superhero drops that signify I am here, it was like divine intervention. The relief that hit you was like no high you'd ever experienced before, the way you imagine a shipwreck survivor must feel when they finally see the boat that's come to save them after being stranded in the brutal, unforgiving seas. That was, until Homelander got to work. Bodies. Ripped apart like paper. Heads not rolling but exploding like watermelons struck by a bat. Unholy shrieks of horror and agony drowned out in wet gurgles of blood. Eyes shining like warning lights in the gloom - inhuman, like a monster from a nightmare. You could only curl up as best you could and close your eyes to the carnage, a sob tangled in your throat, but you couldn't quite drown out the screaming and your imagination supplied you plenty of images that rivalled the horror of what was happening.

When Homelander calmly melted the chains on you and hoisted you up into his arms, you briefly wondered if you were about to die too - even though he'd come to rescue you. Your mind  is in a haze -a long time ago, somebody had explained to you the difference between horror and terror, and you felt it keenly now. You're not screaming or thrashing to escape, or outwardly freaking out at all. Instead, you feel like you've been plunged into a pool of still, frigid water and simply wait under the surface, unwilling to expend any energy into swimming up to the surface and peering out at whatever may lay above. You retreat into numbness, curiously swamped with cold despite how hot Homelander is. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his suit, your breath coming out in sharp little pants. Homelander can hear the frantic pounding of your heart and how you breathe like there isn't enough air, but he assumes that it's from the fear of being kidnapped, of men in dark clothes and with dead eyes. It probably hasn't even crossed your mind that the one who has driven you to this heightened state of fear is him. And you don't want him to think it, so you nuzzle deeper into him, you can't seem to stop hyperventilating no matter how you try. "S'okay," Homelander shushes you, misunderstanding your trembling, a gloved hand petting your hair like he's trying to soothe a skittish animal. He's so monstrously strong he can hold you, a grown woman, easily to his body with just one arm, and you automatically wrap your legs around him, a gesture you've done many times before, but never in this context. He's being so gentle with you that it's hard to believe you just witnessed a man being torn in half by Homelander's bare hands. "You're safe. I've got you." Yes, he does. You're locked in his powerful embrace like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. You bury your face in his chest to hide your expression as well as seeking comfort - it seems perverse to look for it from a man soaked in blood, but what else can you do? You let yourself be lulled into a calmer state, his warmth seeping into you and the slow, rhythmic motions of his hand in your hair weirdly comforting.

But you don't miss the gravel, the hint of threat in his voice when he speaks again. You know it's not directed at you, not his sweetheart, but you still feel a shiver lick down your spine as he speaks; "No one will ever take you away from me."

[niechys]

I am hereby exercise my right to use tape in this jenga tower of writings started by @keferon

I made a fanart of this event once, but didn't have all the components. Now we do.

Rescue mission!! everyone is here!!!

Blurr + Swerve section were made as this comic here.

Which happens after this event here

And on TexAid side, after this Shockwave's mindscape endless Tuesday server from here.

it gets long so all under cut!

------------------

"Let's go over the short version again. So..You and your friend are alien that kind of like living robots?" Blurr said as he pilot Swerve to walk along the corridor.

"Pretty much, yeah. Oh, turn right here" Swerve answered, directing Blurr as they go. Trying their best to not be spotted.

"And you met Jazz"

"Yeah"

"I remembered when he disappeared. You guys met him then you came to Earth?" He repeated what the alien-robot-ghost friend of his had explained earlier.

"Yep, then Shockwave captured me and Prowl"

"Right, Prowl..." Blurr repeated the name, murmured it few more times under his breath.

"Now...Prowl is well guarded...We are gonna need help. Do you happened have a phone?"

--------

Deadlock stop when he spotted the form on the big slab which Ratchet told him were their objective. They were suppose to steal this mech away to save him. Ratchet already went ahead and try to free the mech from all the wiring.

"Do I have to save that guy? He's an Autobot. A very high ranking Autobot"

"I don't know what's that about, kid. But we already promise we'd help Jazz and his friend" Ratchet answered as he disconnected wires and restraints. Trying to call to Jazz inside the cockpit.

"I didn't know his friend was an Autobot" Deadlock still wouldn't move from his spot, but already unsupspaced a couple of guns.

"It seems there are some rats in my lab" A voice called out from above, probably from the room's speaker. They looked up, couldn't see anyone, but one of the high window lit up, a silhouette of a man inside.

"Shockwave..." Ratchet scowl.

The wall to the side burst open. A dark mech. almost as tall as the room was high stepped in. Two black blades in hands, dragging on the floor leaving long marks. Visor glowing maliciously red, hovering, staring, unfeeling.

"You human sure make big toys, huh" Deadlock move to shield Ratchet behind him. The mech slowly stalked towards them.

"Why the fuck is Vortex here..." Ratchet mutter under his breath, looking up, still trying to free Prowl from all the wires.

"Thank you for bringing me more subjects. I see there are more of these aliens around" Shockwave's voice echoing from the speaker. Vortex loomed ever closer.

"Don't worry. I will not damage them too much"

Vortex raise his blade, black massive slab of metal with a sharp cutting edge.

"Autobot or not, looks like I have to get pass you first" A smile tucked at the corner of Deadlock's mouth. He didn't expect to fight the big mech, but it definitely seems like fun.

Ratchet backed away as Deadlock pull out his gun and shot a series of bullets at the hand holding the blade, diverting the aim.

Vortex raised the other blade, swinging it at Deadlock. Deadlock was faster, dodging back and shooting at the bigger mech again although not doing much damage with each round. He still had to back out or sidestepped away from the blade swinging down at him, slamming into the ground.

Another mech dashed into the fray, blocking Deadlock's path. It was smaller than Vortex, colored fiery red and gold.

"Hot Rod!?" Deadlock shouted, surprised. But Hot Rod only shoot flame at him.

"Hey! What the hell?!" He yelled while dodging the plume of flame.

There were no response. Hot Rod didn't even seem to recognize them.

"I can't feel his field. Something's wrong!" Deadlock shouted over to Ratchet. "Could someone else be using his mech!?"

"That's unlikely, but possible for Hot Rod. But no one except Felix can pilot Vortex" Ratchet answered, tearing of the last of the wire connected to Prowl.

When Hot Rod's mech aimed the flamethrower towards Ratchet, Deadlock rushed in, slamming his body into the other mech to get him away from the human. Vortex then step in, slashing at Deadlock who narrowly dodged the strike.

"Ratch! They had to be controlled by one person. Their movement are off!" Deadlock yelled as he still dodging and diverting their attacks. Shockwave may have two mechas on him, but he still couldn't catch up with Deadlock. After all, Shockwave was still, one person.

"Correct. I have control of both the pilots and the mechas" His voice sounded from the speaker. Projecting image on the far wall from cameras inside the cockpit, showing both pilots, Hot Rod abd First Aid, with their helmet on, not being able to move.

"The pilots are in there? Shit!" Deadlock spared a glance at the image while backing from their attack. That means if he attack Hot Rod's mechas, there's a big chance he would hurt Hot Rod. Deadlock didn't like that idea. Vortex seems much sturdier, hopefully Ratchet won't be too mad if he didn't hold back.

"If Shockwave still have control of the mechs we won't be able to get the Autobot out!" He yelled, trying to not bring the fight to where Ratchet was.

"Hold them off a little longer, Kid! I have an idea" Ratchet ran toward the console in the corner, avoiding the fighting mechs. He open up the schematics and controls system connecting to the mechas.

"I'm not much of a technician... but this much I can do" The bioengineer muttered, almost holding his breath as he quickly typing on orders to the console.

"The safety protocol, if activated, will release the pilot and stop the mechas movement. And it should be able to override anything else" Ratchet slammed on the enter key, narrowly dodge a stray piece of metal that flew his way.

Both mechas stopped in mid action, steam expelling from their frames. Both their cockpit opened. Hot Rod almost fell out of the cockpit, saved for Deadlock rushing in to break his fall.

"My head...."

"Hot Rod, you alright?" Deadlock gently let him down to the floor. Hot Rod kept one hand on Deadlock's finger to steady himself.

"I couldn't move all of the sudden and...Shockwave. right! Shockwave was controlling me!!" He tried to look around, to look for Shockwave. He was aware of what was happening, but the release happened so fast.

"Ratchet did something to get you out. We're gonna get our of here" Deadlock picked Hot Rod up, turning to see Ratchet rushing back to Prowl. The hatch on is chest was unlocked and open, he helped Jazz up.

"Are you alright?"

"My head hurts...As soon as I connect I couldn't move...." Jazz was holding his head, one eye squeezed shut.

"We got you now"

"Wait, what about Prowl?"

"I'm here. ..You will need to pilot me. I can't seems to move right now. The connection to my body isn't working." Prowl answered, but couldn't seem to move anything other than his mouth to talk.

"Jazz, don't connect to him yet. We don't know what Shockwave might pull again" Ratchet looked over, then up to the window to Shockwave's lab.

---------------

There was no warning. One second he was in the old base with Vortex, in that endless Tuesdays, running around trying to find a way out, a way to wake up.

The next he woke up. Neural link disconnected right away.

"Vortex?" First Aid called, promptly getting off the seat and taking the helmet off just in case the link took him back.

[Get out. I can't move]

Text showed up on screen. At least Vortex was awake.

"Is he still controlling...Whoa... where are we...?" First Aid swayed, still disoriented, he held on to the pilot chair, looking out the vizor that opened up without actual input.

[Near Shockwave's lab. That's the weird mech they brought in]

"What's going on?"

They were in a big, high ceiling room. Maybe an old hangar. There was a black and white mech lying on a big slap, with some wiring around it, looking like they were just torn off. The mech were odd, not of MECHA design. His face like a sculpture with blue glass eyes. Ratchet was beside the mech and right on the cockpit was Jazz.

Hot Rod's mecha was frozen beside them. But Hot Rod was being held in a hand of another mech near by. The mech was similar to the one lying in the center. It has a face almost like human. And the design was definitely not from MECHA.

Above and behind them was Shockwave in his lab over looking at the space below.

[He was using me and the orange one to fight that guy]

"Felix!!" Ratchet shouted from below. First Aid looked down still confused.

"Ratchet!? What's going on?"

"We are--"

Ratchet's voice was cut by Shockwave's voice coming from the speaker.

"Safety protocol... I see you have manage to release the pilots. It matters not. I can also override it. Just the mechas are enough to take care of your alien friend" Shockwave up in the lab was pressing something on his console as he talked. Overriding the safety again to allow the mechas to move by his control.

[Just get out]

Text blinked on the screen beside him. First Aid look at it, run a hand on the edge of the screen and looked up to Shockwave's lab window above.

"I don't know what's going on. But he's gonna control you again, I won't let him. We are getting you out"

First Aid quickly climbed down the escape chute just as Vortex started moving again. It was slow, rather unlike Vortex. He got to the ground and get clear of the mech before a foot stomp on where he was.

"Ratchet! Why are you here? What..?" He ran toward Ratchet first.

"Felix! We are rescuing our friend. It's a long story, let's just say we need to stop Shockwave from controlling the mechas!"

"Friend...?" First Aid tried to make sense of the situation. Looking at both unusual mechs. Especially the one who still cradling Hot Rod in his hand.

"That one. If we can get that guy up, we could make a run for it. At this point, you might as well come along" Ratchet pointed at the mech still lying on the slab, Jazz on his chest, trying to check inside the cockpit.

"No.. I'm not leaving without Vortex" He balled his hands into a fist. Looking up at the window to Shockwave's lab again.

"What?"

But First Aid already took off running. Ratchet wasn't sure where to, that was when his phone rang.

---------------

"They're here already, getting your friend out, Ratchet and the others. But Shockwave is controlling the mechas" Blurr said, phone still in his hand. "If we can get to Shockwave and stop him, they can rescue Prowl and get out"

"Stop Shockwave...." Swerve felt shivers went up his spine- spinal strut. Just the thought of having to face Shockwave made him scared. His fear was probably felt by Blurr as well. Blurr's hand stroke lightly on the control.

"Hey, you are a big mech. Surely we can do something"

Swerve was starting to feel assured. Blurr was piloting him after all. And right now it was just Shockwave in his lab, he was a mech, he can just...just squish him, may be... The thought made him feel sick, so he drop the thought thread and trust Blurr.

A figure in a pilot suit suddenly appeared just as they were about to turn the corner.

"Wahh!" The pilot point an axe at them, looking rather shaken, a trail of dried blood ran from his nose.

"Whoa!! easy there... why do you have an axe?" Swerve blurted out. Blurr pilot him to stop and held the one remaining hand up.

"I got it from the emergency cabinet. Who are you?..I've never seen this mecha model" the pilot still held his axe in front of him. Swerve recognized him after another look.

"First Aid... you're First Aid, right? I'm Swerve...er..you might not remember me. er...." Swerve realized First Aid wouldn't know this form. He was trying to explain when the hatch opened. First Aid's eyes widen. he almost held his breath when the pilot inside removed his helmet.

"Wait...Blurr??..The..Blurr?? Oh my god, your face..."

"Yeah. I'd like to explain too, but we don't have time. We're going to stop Shockwave, if you're going to stop us-"

"Oh! Are you...with Ratchet then?" First Aid was still unsure. But if these people wanted to stop Shockwave, their interests were aligned. And if they are with Ratchet, then he can probably trust them.

"Ratchet..." Blurr repeated. Swerve quickly chimed in.

"Yes! we are! First Aid, please, trust us. We want to get out of here with our friends, too"

"I... I'm also going to stop Shockwave. His lab is this way, right? He's still controlling Vortex"

"Let's go then. We'll explain everything later. I promise" Blurr said, as he put the helmet back on and the cockpit hatch closed.

-----------------

Swerve's mecha body barely fit the entrance to the lab.

"Shockwave!"

"Hm, oh, your are the other alien" Shockwave turned to look at Swerve, barely reacted at all aside from his remark. "How come you look different now?"

"Release the control. Let them go!" Swerve tried to make his voice sounded scary while Blurr moved his remaining arm to rise threateningly.

"What are you going to do if I don't?"

Below, in the hangar, Vortex and Hot Rod's mecha were still moving, attacking Prowl who still couldn't move. Only Deadlock stood between them, deflecting attacks and dragging Prowl out of the way.

"We will...um....."

First Aid walked out from behind them, axe held high in hands.

"We will release them ourselves" He said, voice colder then he would even believe came out of his own mouth.

"Hm...Why don't you just runaway? You could have just run right now, couldn't you?" Shockwave asked, his one yellow lens peered out the window to the fight below. Still controlling Vortex and Hot Rod's mecha.

"I'm taking Vortex with me"

"You want to take that mecha with you?"

"Yes. Let go of Vortex, now"

"And if I don't? If I have to let others go. I rather keep that one. I would also like to keep you" He turned his attentionn slightly to First Aid, cocking his head a little to the side.

First Aid looked at the console

"....the control goes through here isn't it?" He raise the axe. Hands wider on the handle, ready to strike.

"What are you going to do with that? Kill me?"

First Aid swing the axe into the console. Shockwave stared at him. The yellow lens was unreadable, but it might just be in disbelief.

"Regrettable. You were going to be such a good subject" Shockwave was lifting his mechanical arm. Blurr inside Swerve was getting ready to intervene, maybe grab First Aid and blitz out of there.

Black massive blade pierced into the lab, missing Shockwave by only a hair's breath, cutting him off from the rest of the room. They stared at the blade, First Aid moving a little closer to it. The blade retreated, replace by Vortex's massive metal hand in the gaping hole. First Aid widen his eyes a little, before the surprised expression soften into a weak smile.

In the room below, Ratchet and Jazz stared at Vortex in confusion. Jazz then quickly get back inside Prowl's cockpit, while Deadlock transform and Ratchet readily hopped in.

"You are right on time" First Aid climbed on to Vortex's hand to be picked up.

Blurr and Swerve back out of the room at this point, rushing out to go meet with Ratchet down stairs.

When First Aid was back in Vortex's cockpit, the camera was still pointing at Shockwave's lab. Vortex zoomed in on the axe on the console. A text blinked on.

[Why didn't you put that in Shockwave's head?]

"I was thinking about getting you out" First Aid settled into the pilot seat, heaving a sigh.

[Wuss]

"Hey, look, you can move on your own"

[Yeah. Maybe I tried hard enough and finally breakthrough or something]

"That's great, isn't it. Let's go?"

[We're not wrecking the place?]

"Please? Let's go with Ratchet. We can't stay here, Can't let you get captured again" he put a hand on the control stick, stroked it lightly.

[Like I would let them. But fine, only because you asked nicely and it might be fun later]

First Aid giggle, putting the helmet on. Not realizing that Vortex was thinking about the two odd mechs they saw in that room. Especially the one who was defending Ratchet the whole time. What was it, exactly? It doesn't feel like an AI at all.

But that will be for later.

--------------------

Later.

They all sat down, gathered in an old warehouse near Ratchet's workshop. The effect of adrenaline slowly fade and they all reflected on the event that just passed. They had escaped from MECHA base. Using the night to cover them as best they could. It was a miracle in and of itself that they actually got away with slipping Vortex away to hiding with them.

Hot Rod stood beside some machinery near the center, looking around the warehouse and at everyone. His mecha was powered down off to the side. The three Cybertronian in the warehouse could feel a mix of relief and confusion radiating from him.

"okay...Let me get this straight. ...As straight as it can be, I guess." Hot Rod started. He looked over to First Aid, sitting in a small chair, almost underneath Vortex's hunkered down form. One metal hand reaching low, hovering over First Aid's head in a protective, possessive pose. The Cybertronians could also feel a whole lot of malice oozing out from the empty mecha and couldn't help wonder why this one have its own EM field.

"I and First Aid got back from a mission and got taken over by Shockwave. I remember that part, my head's still killing me. Can't move, can't disengage" He continued, massaging his temple.

"Yeah he also locked me in connection with Prowl. I contacted Ratchet for help before that, but when I connected to him, I couldn't do anything" Jazz pitched in from his corner, still checking on Prowl for missing or broken parts.

"I suspect it was probably because Prowl was connected via hard line and Shockwave was breaking into his system. That's why he could also access the pilot. But it didn't do the same to Swerve" Ratchet explained. Although mostly speculation, most guys nodded.

"Then Ratchet get you pilots out of that control, by some protocol thingies. Have to say we could've just make a run for it from there" Deadlock shot them a look from the opposite corner, trying to not pull out a gun and shoot Prowl. Ratchet stood in front of him, facing everyone else.

"I coulda pilot Prowl and get him out, sure. But we had to be sure I wouldn't get controlled again" Jazz shot back, asm crossed his chess.

"Meanwhile I was in the hospital wing when Swerve showed up with his....uh..?" Blurr started, looking from where he sat on Swerve's leg, leaning on his torso, arm crossed over his chest.

"Holo projection" Swerve added for him. He was sitting a bit off to the side. Projecting his own avatar to sitting on his other leg. His real body still leaned away from Vortex as much as he could.

"His holo projection, right. He asked for help. So I get out to find him got taken apart. He scanned my mecha and transform. That's how he got out of all the wires and stuff" Blurr continued.

"Um..I'm sorry but....you lost me at scanned your mecha" First Aid raised a hand, looking confused.

"Our race can turn into other machines after scanning it" Prowl gave an explanation.

"Right. You guys are aliens... aliens that look like robots. Aliens really exist..." First Aid was still dealing with that fact, mumbling to himself. Vortex above turned his camera around, inspecting each alien robot. That spooked the rest of the human in the room.

"Actually First Aid, I have a question" Swerve raised his hand.

"Yes?"

"You went and put an axe in Shockwave's console to release his control on the mechas, right? Which is freacking risky. The control might never be released instead..."

"Yes. And yeah I know that but I don't think we can make Shockwave release it."

"Uh huh... At least things turned out good. Then Vortex broke into the room by stabbing it from the outside so he can pick you up"

"Yes"

"....But you were in the room with us"

".....Yes...."

".....Who controlled Vortex then?"

"Well...about that..."

After First Aid's explanation, Vortex nodded, with rattling metal noise that sounded too much like laughter. Everyone else looked at the biggest mech in the warehouse, expression showing various degrees of disbelief and fear in some case.

"You're telling me, not only the rumors were all true. But Vortex has been piloting himself all this time, which means, GHOST EXIST!!?" Swerve unintentionally raise his voice.

"AND YOU JUST TOLD ME ALIENS EXIST AND ONE OF OUR ENGINEER HAS BEEN AN ALIEN HOLOGRAM ALL THIS TIME!"

"What have I gotten myself into..." Ratchet pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You also hide a Decepticon in your workshop for god knows how long" Swerve mumbles at Ratchet who shot him down with stares.

"Don't worry, he just made me rescue a high ass ranking Autobot, too" Deadlock said through his teeth, still itching to grab a gun from his subspace.

Ratchet's headache had just gotten a lot worse.

-------------------------

I know they kind of escape easily. but it really is getting long.

[jayhyunglover]

S for Studying or Sylus pt2.

Pt1 , Pt3

Which one was worse dying of hunger? or dying in the hands of a majestic dragon? I wonder

I stayed out of Sylus's sight as promised. Well tried because my growling stomach had other things in store for me.

"What should we do , Jerome?" I asked the small chameleon who just tilted his head curiously at me.

I had 2 choices , stay here and die of hunger or go find Sylus. My mind was screaming at me to stay there and starve but my stomach was screaming Sylusssss.

After a moment of contemplation,  I slammed my notebook shut before getting up to go search for him. 

It didn't take long until I found him laying on his side , his tail holding up a cup of wine.

Sylus's ear perked up at the sound of her light footsteps.

She's still here ?

"Didn't I say to stay out of my sight , human?" He drawled , tone almost menacing .

Damn! His voice is so smokey hot.

"Uh.." I approached him carefully before tripping over a rock that was sitting there.

"Fuck" I cursed lowly holding my feet.

Why everything seems to be against me today?

Such a clumsy thing. He thought looking down at her with an imperceptible smile on his face.

"Why haven't you left already?" He asked bringing his cup towards his lips to take a sip

"You didn't tell me to leave" I retorted still holding my bruised  foot

"Oh how inconsiderate of me" he scoffed and in the blink of eyes he was in front of me tail curled around my frame

"I guess you do really have a  death wish , no one is foolish enough to come here willingly unless.." his tail tightened around me making me gasp the sharp tip grazing my neck.

"You came here for a purpose" he trailed voice dropping dangerously lower

"I already told you I came here to learn" I let out an exasperated sigh struggling against his tail .

Is he deaf or amnesiac?

"Don't play games with me human" he scoffed again

"I am not playing gamed and could you get this away from my neck, it tickles" I giggled moving my neck away from the tip of his tail

Wait she's laughing? Just what kind of specimen was she? Didn't she know it could easily slit her throat in open?

"And pray tell why are you so intent on studying me?" He asked his voice a mixture of disbelief and wariness

"You're a dragon, the first one I ever seen or approached , of course I wanna study you" she exclaimed , looking way too happy and excited for someone with a sharp object pressed against her neck

He really thought she was a mad woman(which in fact wasn't totally false) who stumbled accidentally here and let her the choice to escape but here she was claiming wanting to study him.

Just what the heck was wrong with her ?

"Just leave" he said letting go of me making me land on the ground with a loud thud

Didn't I make myself clear?

"What? no  , this is an once in life opportunity I can't possibly-"

"Death is also an once in life opportunity" he cut me off walking over where he was laying before I arrived "and being burned alive is not as appealing as you think"

I don't know why a deranged part of  me actually wanted to test that out.

"So I guess you won't let me study you" I asked in a small voice ,shifting from one foot to another

Why does she looks lowkey cute? No what the hell is he thinking. She's an human and those creatures are never up to good.

He inhaled deeply seeming to ponder my words.

"Give me one valuable reason why I should let you stay here and study me"

I could give him a whole essay about why he should let me stay here

"I am acgood company and I can be a good-" I looked around the crypt "-cryptmate? I don't snore when I sleep I don't eat a lot and I am not a kleptomaniac" I smiled proudly

What is he even gonna do with that woman?

He let an exasperated sigh before reluctantly agreeing. 

It's not like she's gonna back down.  This stubborn little thing.

"As long as you don't touch me without my permission and keep your hand to yourself then I guess I can allow it"

Sylus mentally cursed himself for agreeing so easily but when he saw how her eyes lit up at his agreement he forgot about all his previous .

Just what the fuck did he get himself into?

"Really?" I asked eyes widening with a mixture of excitement and giddiness.

"Don't get too happy human I can still kill you whenever I want" he grumbled under his breath but loud enough for her to hear

"Whatever" I shrugged before making my way over him . pulling out her notebook to scribble down furiously

"The scales on your tail are rather cold and the tip tickles . can you inject venom with it?" She started questioning him ,jotting down on the small notebook in her hand . The chameleon in her hair looked as done as him with her.

"It doesn't contain any venom . I am not a scorpion" he retorted resting his head on one of his palm to observe her more closely. Taking in the way her eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the way she nibbles on her bottom lips and constantly adjusts her glasses

He was so entranced by the sight of her he almost missed the growling sound of her stomach.

"Seems like every part of you is Talkative huh?" he chuckled the sound making my heart do a backflip. Wait was that even possible?

"What kind of host would I be if I let my guest starve" He said before getting up and expanding his wings making my jaw drop.

They were majestic, shimmering black that seemed to capture the faint sun rays slipping through the creaks of rocks.

I was so mesmerized I almost found myself reaching out to touch him before withdrawing my hand

Remember Athena no touching.

"Don't try to escape" he warned before taking off

"I thought you didn't want me there" I shouted but he was already gone disappearing in the bright sky.

"Guess we are on our own now Jerome" I sighed before feeling the small reptile crawl in my hand.

Well at least we are still alive . For now

------------------------------------

A/N : here's part 2 I know it's rather short . (I can't write long fic to save my life, I got too excited by one scene write it down and then publish)

Anyway I hope you will like it see u guys soon for pt3.

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @ittybittyfanblog @chibichibi-mia @satansdaughter123 @sunsethw4 @mangooes @yourlocalcatscammer

[varlaisvea]

i didn't want to make a post about how much i love zerith-var, but i think i am going to... the meta of him is so lovely--he is the first companion who feels, power-wise and life-wise, like he could be credibly a peer to the vestige. isobel is a junior knight, sharp-as-night is a mercenary, mirri is an adventurer, tanlorin is a thief and a spy, and zerith-var is a miraculously undead elite necromancer-cleric-monk who gets his marching orders from azurah herself. he's way more on the level of the type of power the vestige has.

and it makes sense story-wise that he'd want to hang out with you. the rest of 'em are honored to tag along with the Hero Of Tamriel on your great adventures, but zerith has never heard of no planemeld; you were just the first person who found him and was kind to him. he sees you as his equal--he decides you're his partner, his tamiit, a word which is evidently just as ambiguous in meaning in ta'agra as it is in english/tamrielic. he's certainly getting something out of the relationship; he's incredibly powerful, but he's also woken up in a distant future, so he needs someone he can trust to help him figure out how to exist in a strange time, with a strange purpose. he's understandably uneasy and disoriented in this time, so he's glad to be with you.

i cannot say enough good things about his quests, they are some of the best quests i've ever played in eso. the plots in some of the other companions' quests are kinda flimsy and obligatory, but his has like... richly developed secondary characters who have satisfying character arcs of their own, extensive tie-ins to existing lore, and poignant themes? zerith is a holy warrior in the most literal sense, and yet he himself also needs forgiveness and redemption? it honestly kinda blew me away.

also, i just love him. i thought kim kitsuragi was a jesus i did not deserve, but zerith... it is like. unavoidable. like. a falling star heralds his awakening, and the literal very first thing you see him do is rise from the slab of his tomb, miraculously un-decayed. he has this epic way of talking bc he's 2000 years old, and he constantly reminds everyone around him that no soul is ever beyond redemption. the damned actually literally reach for his hand through a veil of darkness to find salvation from eternal torment in azurah's unyielding forgiveness. he says shit like this all the time:

"To put spirits on the path to redemption. To hold the door even when the shadow of unending night pushes against it. This is my calling... We stepped into the light from the shadow of my tomb. Together, we struck against the darkness beyond the world... I am honored to walk at your side."

he's simultaneously millennia old and also like 50, and also 5. he treats you like an equal, talks to you like someone who has no idea how important you are, but still admires you anyway. it's very good! my favorite companion by far. it's a good thing i enjoy having him around, bc i have to level him fully so i can buy this one REALLY GOOD water furnishing that is going to change like 5 or 6 of my houses substantially. it's going to open a world of possibility. he loves the infinite archive though, and so do i :)

and tbh, he could not be sexier? kind, gentle, playful, intelligent, with a voice so deep you could hibernate in it, snatched waist and dope biceps, sort of dorky smile, shares almost all of his major character traits with jesus christ, is not a human. like idk if sexy in a thirst way but objectively, doing the work of christ while looking hot is hot. terrible facial hair but it works on him, and he looks cool as fuck doing his little magic gesture thing. thenks for my life! this is like the time they made smolder scrolls online for me specifically so i could romance both razum-dar and naryu.

[sugar-plum-writer]

A God Has Descended to Earth

Paring: Gojo Satrou x fem!reader Tags: God complex, one-shot, what happens when a god like existence on Earth makes you wonder? if all the gods you knew were fake A/n: I just wrote this after being inspired from Lana's - "Salvatore", I have listened to it many times but this version of it being in a cathedral unblocked my writers block. The echo, the reverberation, and blue cathedral inspired me to write some lines and it evolved to this lol~ I hope you guys like it! pls leave a comment for any feedback if you like it!

Throughout the lands and the sky above, beyond the glistening stars the breeze itself seemed to freeze to not disturb his walk. Black, white and blue sky, a gold painted sun cathedral with echo's of power resonating through each crevice swirling like the depth of oceans, and storming like a titanic on the clouds

Stepping down he looked like a God

using the sky itself as a staircase he stepped down, elegantly- playfully smirking, he needed no cathedral, he needed no church or temple, why? The sky was his, the sky was the cathedral, the only place high enough for a man like him to look down on the world and be worshiped.

No throne was worthy enough for him, none dared to bear his weight, no gold or diamonds needed to show his wealth, Afterall, which diamonds could ever compare to the azure blue painting his eyes reflecting the sun and the ocean in it's wake.

The sky was his, it exists because he exists, with just a drop of his power thousands could be ripped till bones and daggers cannot be forged. Having the strength to take the Earth from the back of Atlas and bear it on his mere hands; spinning it like a child spinning the globe. As if it was the most weightless object in the world.

How did such a man exist- was beyond you, having heard about him through many people, calling him annoying, cocky, over-confident, but one thing the whole world agreed on- he was the strongest. You laughed it off as you heard many things related to him, so many stories a 1000 nights couldn't match up, wondering if you could meet this man known as the strongest yourself

Until, you saw him, the man himself walking down from the sky

Sharp cuts on your body stung dripping with blood, making you beg your nerves to stop feeling this piercing pain. If it stopped you could focus more, hot blood drenched a side of your face, blurring your vision hazy, it smelled like iron and tasted disgusting on your throat making you want to vomit

Seeing him made your breath stop, world stop, the chaos fell silent and deaf to your ears- looking at him breathless as he walked towards you not even realizing the curse you were fighting was still alive

With a light grin he raised his hand

"Red"

Such a simple word, just 1 syllable

Obliterated half of the area you were standing flat, grimy blood of the curse splattered on the wall behind you- with a crater big enough to hold an elephant, but rather than horror it looked like a painting- a painting of raw power

Is this what ultimate power looks like?

The curse you struggled to fight against, gasping for breath in every killing blow, small cuts graced your body making your skin be basked in crimson, nearly dying fighting this curse and for him it was just

One Syllable

You stared at him, stunned to speak, he did not avert your gaze rather kept looking in your eyes, the azure eyes melting into your own- evoking the feeling of your soul being consumed by him

Gently raising his hand- he brushed your hair aside- though his hands got covered in your blood he paid no mind

"My My~ that's quite an expression you've got their my dear"

leaning in his lips close to yours- inches apart- gaze unwavering looking into your heart

"A-Are you a God?"

You do not know why such words came from your mouth, they just did, as if wanting to know, if the god you have been worshipping your whole life was fake

"Am I?"

He chuckled

"If I am, will you go down on your knees and worship me? will my name be the only prayer on your lips? Answer me dear? Will you?"

With a light smile he said the words as if they are weightless- even a god declaring his words would make himself look mighty, is he above a God?

"If so"

"Kneel"

Link to my Masterlist in case you want to read other works of mine

[girl-next-door-writes]

Snowfall Serenade

Characters: Loki x reader

Summary: Best friends, winter magic, and a holiday resort straight out of a dream—will a week of snowy escapades spark something more?

Word Count: 1496 words

Prompts: Ski resort. Best friends to lovers. Wearing their clothes.

A/N: The fantastic @savvy-devine666 requested a little festive Loki and who am I to object?

The air was crisp and smelled of pine, the snow falling in thick, glittering flakes that coated the resort like powdered sugar on a gingerbread house. Christmas lights twinkled in the distance, casting a warm glow across the frosty landscape. You adjusted your scarf and rubbed your gloved hands together, staring up at the grandiose lodge that you and your best friend, Loki, would be calling home for the next week.

“This place looks like it belongs in a holiday movie,” you said, nudging him with your elbow.

Loki arched an eyebrow, his dark hair falling just shy of his shoulders, and gave you that trademark smirk that always seemed to hold some secret. “A bit over the top, isn’t it? All the glitz and glitter. Too festive for its own good.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You say that, but I know you’ll be the first to steal the best seat by the fireplace.”

“Not if you claim it first, darling.” There was a teasing lilt to his voice, but you noticed the faint flush on his cheeks. Probably the cold, you thought. Definitely the cold.

The truth was, being here with Loki already felt like magic. After years of being inseparable friends, this trip had been your idea—a break from the chaos of life and a chance to finally relax. Loki had reluctantly agreed, muttering about “tourist traps” but secretly excited, as you’d caught him researching the best ski routes days before you left.

Inside the lodge, it was even more beautiful. A roaring fire crackled in the stone hearth, and the scent of mulled cider and cinnamon wafted through the air. Loki, ever the gentleman, helped you out of your coat and scarf, his touch lingering a moment longer than usual. You ignored the way your heart skipped at the gesture. This was Loki, your best friend. Nothing more.

“I’ll grab the key for our suite,” he said, his green eyes flicking toward the reception desk. “You find us some hot chocolate, perhaps?”

“On it,” you replied, grinning as you made your way to the cozy café corner.

When you reconvened, steaming mugs in hand, Loki led you to your shared suite. It was charming, with rustic wooden beams, a Christmas tree adorned with silver and green ornaments, and a balcony overlooking the snowy slopes.

“This is... nice,” Loki admitted, setting his bag down and glancing around.

“I knew you’d like it,” you teased. “It’s practically screaming your aesthetic.”

“I suppose it’s tolerable,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

The next few days were a whirlwind of winter activities. You dragged Loki to the slopes, where he proved to be a surprisingly graceful skier, despite his earlier complaints. You weren’t nearly as skilled, but Loki stayed by your side, catching you every time you wobbled.

“You’re doing splendidly,” he said after your fifth near-tumble.

“Liar,” you laughed, breathless. “You’re just saying that so I’ll keep humiliating myself.”

“Nonsense. I’m saying it because it’s true.” His voice softened, and for a moment, his gaze lingered on you, unguarded and vulnerable. Then he cleared his throat and turned away.

Nights were spent curled up by the fire, sipping cider or cocoa while playing cards or talking for hours. Loki seemed more relaxed than you’d ever seen him, the usual sharp edges of his sarcasm dulled by the holiday cheer. You found yourself watching him more often than you should, noting the way the firelight danced in his emerald eyes or the rare but genuine smiles that crossed his face.

You tried to shake it off. He was your best friend. Nothing more.

On Christmas Eve, the resort hosted a moonlit snowshoe hike. Loki was skeptical, but you convinced him with the promise of a quiet night under the stars. Bundled up in layers, you followed the group through a trail that wound around the forest. The snow sparkled under the full moon, and your breath puffed in white clouds in the frigid air.

Somewhere along the way, Loki fell behind the group, and you stayed with him.

“You’re brooding,” you teased as the two of you trudged through the snow.

“I am not,” he replied, his voice defensive but tinged with amusement. “I’m merely... thinking.”

“About?”

He hesitated, glancing at you briefly before looking away. “Nothing of consequence.”

You stopped walking and grabbed his arm, forcing him to face you. “Loki, what’s going on? You’ve been weird all day.”

He sighed, his breath visible in the cold air. “It’s nothing. Truly. I suppose I’m just not used to this sort of... festivity.”

“You mean fun?” you teased, earning a small chuckle from him.

“Yes, fine, fun,” he admitted. Then, softer, “I suppose I worry I’ll ruin it for you. I’m not exactly the ideal companion for such a cheerful holiday.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you said, stepping closer. “Loki, this trip wouldn’t be the same without you. I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone else.”

His eyes met yours, wide and vulnerable. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, he gave a small nod, his lips quirking into a faint smile.

Later that night, back in the suite, you found yourself rifling through your bag for warmer socks. Loki had gone to take a shower, leaving his clothes draped over a chair. Without thinking, you grabbed his oversized sweater and pulled it on. It was soft and smelled like him—a mix of cedarwood and something you couldn’t quite place.

When he walked back into the room, his damp hair curling at the edges, he froze.

“Is that my sweater?” he asked, his voice somewhere between curious and flustered.

You looked down at yourself and grinned. “It’s mine now. It’s warm.”

Loki’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, muttering something under his breath.

“What was that?” you asked, stepping closer.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, his gaze darting anywhere but you.

“Loki...”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I said you look lovely in it”

You blinked, startled by the sudden confession. A warmth spread through your chest, and before you could stop yourself, you smiled. “You did. And thank you.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the air between you seemed to shift. He opened his mouth to say something, but then hesitated.

“What?” you prompted gently.

“Nothing. It’s... nothing.” But his tone was soft, almost wistful.

The next evening, Christmas night, the resort held a small gathering outside by the firepit. Guests milled about, sipping hot drinks and chatting. But you and Loki had wandered off, drawn to the quiet beauty of the moonlit slopes.

You stopped by a clearing, where the snow fell gently around you, the world bathed in silver light. Loki stood a few steps away, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his expression thoughtful.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you asked, breaking the silence.

He turned to you, his green eyes catching the moonlight. “I was just thinking how odd it is that I’ve spent so much time resisting things like this. Happiness, connection. I’ve always thought they were... out of reach.”

“They’re not,” you said softly.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the snow. “Perhaps not. But they’re frightening, nonetheless. To care for someone, to let them in... it’s a risk.”

“It’s worth it,” you replied, stepping closer.

Loki’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, he looked as if he might argue. But then his expression softened, and he reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours.

“You make me believe that,” he said quietly, his eyes widening as he realised the words had escaped him. “Did I just say that out loud?” he chuckled sheepishly.

Your breath caught as he stepped closer, his gaze searching yours nervously. Snowflakes clung to his dark hair, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He looked impossibly beautiful, and your heart ached with the intensity of it.

“Loki...”

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You shook your head, your voice barely a whisper. “Don’t stop.”

His lips met yours, soft and tentative, as if he was afraid you might vanish. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of you, caught in the moonlight with snow falling around you. When he pulled back, his gaze searched yours, uncertain and vulnerable.

“Was that...” he began, his voice barely audible.

“Perfect,” you finished for him, a smile breaking across your face.

He let out a soft laugh, his tension melting away as he pulled you into his arms. For the first time, Loki looked at peace, his insecurities replaced by the quiet certainty of your presence.

And as the snow continued to fall, the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other and the magic of the moment, knowing that this Christmas had given you something far more precious than either of you could have imagined.

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 12th - Sex Toys (Papa Emeritus I x Female!Reader)

Tags: Dom!Primo, Sex Toys, Fingering, Anal Play, (Light) Temperature Play, Orgasm Denial, Begging, Edging, Dacryphilia, Age Gap, 1st Person POV

There are benefits to being Primos favorite. Out of the many men and women he calls to his chambers on those lonely nights, I am the one he holds the most dear, the one that he invites to warm his bed the most. Sure, it rouses jealousy from Siblings and Ghouls who are vying for Papas attention, but I could care less when I'm snuggled in his arms, basking in the afterglow of our late night endeavors.

With age, his sexual escapades have declined along with his libido. After a lifetime of fucking, he's not too keen to experiment anymore, wanting nothing more than to just lay back and get whatever partner he chooses for the night to slowly rock back and fourth his cock. It's still nice to indulge in sins of the flesh every so often, even if his age doesn't allow him to cum every time anymore. Making his partners cum is the greatest reward he could receive, viewing the act as his own personal worship, each orgasm an offering to Asmodeus.

When Primo shot me a look during black mass, the same look he always gives me when he wants me in his bed as soon as possible, I didn't think tonight would be anything special. I arrived later that evening, immediately reaching for his cock hidden underneath his robes, but he gently grabbed my hand, stopping me. "No need, cara mia. Papa wants to please you tonight." He purrs, guiding me to the bed. "I'd like to try something new. Will you allow me, mia piccola fiore?"

I was a little surprised he wanted to switch things up, but I was more than willing, quite curious to see what he had in mind. I nod in agreeance, stripping myself of my clothing and laying on the bed with my legs spread, ready for him to do what he wishes. He starts out warming me up with his fingers, nothing unusual, but still feels so incredibly good every single time. His hands are skilled, the decades of experience he had under his belt showing. He gets me so close to the precipice, but the moment I warn him, he pulls away. I found it strange, considering usually he loved to make me cum, as quickly as possible, and as many times as possible. But I suppose he did say he wanted to try something different, right?

He licked my arousal off his fingers, groaning softly at the taste. He shuffles off the bed with an exasperated grunt, looking through his bedside drawer and pulling out a sizable black box. He smirks, opening the box and taking out a small, phallic shaped object; a vibrator. I blush, restraining myself from kicking my feet in gleeful excitement. Turning it on to its lowest setting, he places it on my clit, making me let out a pleasured squeal. I was already sensitive from his fingers, causing a shock of ecstasy to shoot directly to my core. Primo snickers at my reaction, clearly receiving all the satisfaction he wanted just by watching me wriggle against the hunk of plastic.

He switched to a higher setting, his grin only growing the louder I moan. "Do you want to try another, cara?" His voice rumbles in his chest, my cunt clenching around nothing. "Y-you have more?" I ask, bewildered. "Many more. Pick one." He nods. With the box now sat beside me, I reach a shaky hand inside, feeling around, the vibrating on my sex making it significantly harder to concentrate. I pull out something long and ice cold to the touch; a ribbed glass dildo, clearly meant for anal pleasure. I shudder.

"You want to try that one, mia trioa? You want me to pump that inside you while the vibrator is still on your pretty little clit?" He muttered, his hot breath hitting my skin, making all the hairs on my body stand up. "Yes!" I cry out desperately, my body screaming for any sort of penetration, no matter where it was or what was doing it.

He inserts the toy inside my ass, thoroughly lubed up prior, of course. The sudden sharp coolness of it makes me tense up, but after a few soft thrusts, I start to get used to the feeling, relaxing myself. He moves it in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, going deeper and deeper inside of me, my breath hitching with every inward push. The vibrator, now on the highest setting, has me downright convulsing, both sensations mixing together in an overwhelming amalgamation of pleasure.

"Papa, oh f-fuuck! I'm- i'm gonna cum!" I pant, the familiar feeling creeping up once again. Primo stops his ministrations, the vibrator suddenly turned back to the lowest setting, my sweet bliss ripped away cruelly once again. He clicks his tongue mockingly. "Beg. Beg for release." He gravels, his voice thick with lust. This was so far off from how he usually was with me, but that doesn't mean that this wasn't so fucking hot. Hot and frustrating, but more so hot.

"P-please Papa, please! I- I'll do anything, just please fucking let me cum! F-fuck, I love you, Papa, make me cum!" The admission came out spontaneously, so desperate and pleasure-centered that my mouth developed a mind of its own. Primo was taken aback. Sure, we both knew that we had developed a mutual care and respect for each other, but this was purely a sexual relationship, no love or exclusivity whatsoever. My cheeks reddened in embarrassment, Primos once lustful expression molds into one of poorly concealed shock. Then, an unreadable twinkle in his eyes. He sets the vibrator back on its maximum setting, plunging the dildo back inside of me.

My eyes roll back, face contorted tightly at the continuation of my pleasure. Tears start to form in the corner of my eyes, streaming down my cheeks as quickly as they developed, overstimulated and needy. My orgasm builds up, quicker than last time, my brain fogged and fuzzy, everything in my reality starting to slowly fade and distort. "Cum." Is all Primo says, and I can feel myself finally let go, surrendering to the sensations he was bringing me. It hit me so much harder than usual, after being denied release for so long.

Coming down from my blissful high, he turns off the vibrator, slowly inching the dildo out of me, setting the two toys down. He leans over me, and when I think he's about to tenderly wipe away my tears, he instead obscenely licks them from my cheeks. I shiver at the wetness of his tongue, the shockwaves of my orgasm still running though my veins, causing involuntary muscle spasms. My eyes flutter shut, the unrelenting grasp of sleepiness pulling me away. Primo tucks a blanket over me, sitting beside me with a strained huff.

"I love you too, you know that, piccola fiore?" He whispers earnestly, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of my head. I hum contently, already drifting off. I don't know exactly what he means, if he loves me in a platonic sense, or returns my romantic affections. That's a question I'll have to delve further into in the morning, his arms pulling me into a firm, comforting hold, lulling me to sleep. Oh, the benefits of being Primos favorite.

-

[marigoldbaker]

khalid asks hot neighbour jaheira to get a bathtub spider OBVIOUSLY

Jaheira would not have joined the apartment group chat if not for the man in 12A. The man in 12A kept objectively batshit hours, and she worked her accursed, horrible business-hours service job, which meant that more often than not, when she was heading home, he was heading out. They’d exchanged cursory waves and smiles a few times, and she was incredibly proud of how normal she had managed to keep her face throughout all of it, because the man in 12A was the loveliest man she had ever met. She’d been going through his mail when he first moved in—she had gotten into the habit of doing this whenever anyone new moved into the apartment, just to get a sense of what sort of neighbor complaints she would be dealing with—and he had caught her, which was not uncommon, but what was uncommon was the way he’d smiled, blushed, ducked his head, and said, “N-nice to be seen as, as…interesting enough to m-m-merit scrutiny,” which was so far afield of the usual response to her covert espionage that Jaheira had stared at him for fifteen seconds without realizing that he’d reached out a hand to take the mail back. And then he’d said, “Ac-actually? Keep it,” smiled as though this was normal, and left Jaheira with three letters addressed to Resident, Subscriber, and James Pickens, which was the man who had lived in 12A prior to the most interesting man that Jaheira had ever come across.

As such, she had begun to check the group chat regularly, just to see if 12A sent anything interesting. Most of the time he just sent photos of baby animals to “brighten up the building’s day.” The first time he had done this, she had thrown her phone into the wall and spent thirty minutes before work pacing around the apartment, muttering ominously about horrible, evil men with eyes that sparkled like a river under sunlight and hands that looked like they would surely be very good for holding, among, obviously, other things. The second time he had done this, she had saved the photo to her phone and turned it into her lockscreen. The fifth time he had done this, she had said to Panther, who was perched on the top of her chair and systemically shredding the fabric, “I am going to figure out a way to marry that man,” heard the words out of her mouth, realized that she apparently had some sort of feeling for a man, and amended, “I am possibly also going to kill myself.”

She heard the text tones going off and snatched her phone—no, picked it up normally. Picked it up normally, and definitely did not knock absolutely everything off her coffee table in the process. No one was in the apartment to provide an alternate perspective to her statement. (She would clean up the glass later.)

12A: Hi, this is a little embarrassing, but there’s a spider in my apartment and I’m not doing that great with it. Is there anyone who’d be willing to help me out?

14B: bro are you not a man??? lmaoooooo

12A: LOL not a really good one I guess

14B: sit tight i’ll come down and kill it for you

12A: Actually I’m fine, no worries!

12A: If it’s between me handling it and you killing it I think I’d rather figure out how to handle it myself

Jaheira slammed her phone down, picked it back up again, typed, 14B you offer nothing to the world so why don’t you go jump in front of a moving train, pocketed the phone after sending the message, and ignored the many agitated vibrations from her phone as she sprinted out of her apartment and across the hall. 12A’s door was shut, so she knocked rapid-fire, heart pounding in rhythm with the sharp taps of her knuckles.

The door opened. Her upsettingly handsome neighbor was standing in front of her, his expression first surprised, then softly touched. “Twelve—twelve, ah, B,” he said. “Y-yes?”

Jaheira said, “Do you have a glass I can use?”

“Wh-what?”

“For the spider. I am going to bring him into my apartment.”

The man blinked a few times, then said, “Wh-why?”

“Most indoor spiders will not survive outside,” explained Jaheira briskly, “and I don’t mind if he lives with me. Of course he runs the risk of being eaten by my cat, but such is the circle of life. Much more humane, in my opinion, than consigning him to brave the winter weather.”

“...I didn’t know that,” said the man. He sounded a little upset. “I’ve, I’ve taken a few spiders out–outside before. Does that—w-would that—?”

Surprised, Jaheira inquired, “Then why would you need help with this one?”

“He’s,” the man winced, smiling self-deprecatingly (and upsettingly adorably), “s-sort of—um—fast.”

Jaheira tried very hard to bite back her affectionate laugh. It didn’t entirely work. The man seemed to recognize that she was not mocking him, though, because he brightened and grinned, blushing softly. “Well,” she said, “I am faster. And you should not worry too much about the spiders you did manage to bring outside; you were only doing what you thought best with the information you had. Call me next time and I will take in any spiders you need.”

Of course that was one of the most insane sentences she had ever said to a man, particularly a man she was interested in becoming intimate with, but before the general feeling of what the fuck is wrong with you had any time to solidify, the man’s face broke open in a warm, shy grin—the sort of response one might have if complimented effusively, which was not at all what Jaheira had done. Possibly. Probably. What was happening.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll need your name, though.”

“What?” Jaheira winced. “Oh. Jaheira.”

“Khalid,” said the man, then blinked, and laughed a little ruefully. “Th-though I suppose you, you probably know that, if, if you were—that is, I-I-I’d hate to be redundant, in-inadvertently–”

“How would I know your name?” started Jaheira, before remembering. Mortified, she managed, “I stopped reading your mail after you caught me, I can assure you! And none of the mail I took had your name on it, anyway. Do you want it back? I still have it. Unopened. I did not know how to give it back without—I was not entirely sure what happened—”

Khalid said, “N-no, keep it, it’s probably just, just bills, and I don’t want to find out about them anyway,” which made Jaheira laugh as she followed him further into the apartment. “The spider’s in the kitchen,” he informed her. “Can you—?”

“Absolutely,” said Jaheira.

[vesanal]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊The 4th Day of Writemas₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Wahoooo00oo! Another day, another WRITMAS!!! (it’s still Dec 4 for me, trust me <3) For those of you who don’t know about it, here is the invite post again!!! And here are the prompts for today! 

Prompts used: 

(only 2 today lol)

Narration: The knife trembled in their hand.

Feeling: Aching

Today I am focussing on a character that hasn’t gotten any attention yet. So get ready to meet Idalia Maeres! 

Read about the WIP here!!

Here it is for y’all!

------------------------------

It hurt worse in the winter. Nothing could dull it. Sometimes she had to just live with a poorly dealt hand. Idalia pushed herself off the bed and onto her feet, where she fell onto the nightstand trying to keep herself upright. Putting on her coat and gloves, she picked up her crutch and hobbled out of her room. Across the room she saw her crew members. All gathered, intensely conversing in a huge clump in the main hall, probably cutting up about whatever stupid inside joke they had this week or poking fun at all the rookies messing up the simplest of things. 

Eyes narrowing, Idalia walked herself over to the hoard of people, swiftly pushing herself off the ground with each stride. Surely, they could take on some more work. They seemed to be free enough to stand around. Maybe lighten the load for herself. All of those years of experience should amount to something. Hot steam rose up within her, boiling in her mind. Milev depends on us. We can’t risk their livelihood so we can sit on our asses and let them die. Idalia paced her breath back down to steady tempo. She took one final, sharp breath in to prepare her for some lecturing with such children.

“What are we doing here? No, no. Let’s break it up, we have jobs to do.” Idalia chastised them with a stern yell, then adding,  “Why are we up so early, anyways? You didn’t have night watch last night.”

All heads turned towards Idalia. Every face that looked at her had a twisted, confused expression. What’s going on? Why am I always the last one to know about things? Idalia thought, unsure as to why all of her employee’s eyes were latched onto her.

“Ma’am, do you not know what happened this morning?”, Her second officer rushed over, securing his hands around her arm to hold her steady. Warm hands like his made the pain seem so far away, even if it was only for a moment.

“No. I don’t know anything about this morning. Now, I am still your boss so, you lot better tell me what's going on here.” 

Bodies shivered across the room when she questioned them. Silent sobs broke out. A few crew members fell onto each other for support. Idalia blinked a few times looking around the room. She had never seen them act this way. Something serious was up.

“We found this.” a young rookie said, shaking. They held out a strange object in their hand towards Idalia.  As Idalia inspected it further, she began to recognize familiar patterns all over it. The knife trembled in their hand as they handed it over. Taking it in her hand, Idalia felt the curvature of the blade with her worn fingers. Feeling the smooth hard wood of the hilt curl around the circumference of the handle before meeting the glistening, black metal that reached beyond it. The blade itself coiled, too. Three sides of iron, all swirling around in a cylindrical shape, sitting firm where the cross guard laid. Everything about the blade was twisted. Twisted, like its owner, the Bone-Binder’s. Idalia closed her eyes and slowly sipped in air through her nose. Why was he here? Why has he returned?

------------------------------

(PLEASE tell me if you wanna get added to a tag list here because I genuinely don't know who to tag lol. I'll edit this and add you in!! <3 )

TAGLIST SO FAR: @sunflowerrosy @seastarblue

@thebookishkiwi @viridis-icithus @corinneglass

Our wonderful host <3 → @agirlandherquill Have a lovely day everyone!!

[cafecourage]

Part 3!

Wild, Four and Wind!

Wild:

- Wild is the type of person that also doesn’t mind hugs or surprise hugs. He really loves it actually. Like Hyrule he makes it into a game. But instead of paying the huge tax he literally will try to sneak up on you and hug you. It’s a hunting game so good luck on winning.

- There isn’t any rule or thought that goes into this other than the first person to catch the other off guard with a hug wins. Meaning that it’s all out war everyday.

- That being said there are moments where you have the advantage to a hug.

Settling down in Hateno was nice, the boys get a break from traveling and a chance to regroup. For you it’s the domestic life you were used to and slightly missed while being on the road for so long. When you got to Wilds home it was by lunch time so Wild went to straight to cooking while the other boys explore or just unpack for a moment. You had took a nap as you were just getting a bit tired. Though because of the battering of the pots and pans you couldn’t exactly fall completely asleep.

Peaking over the railing you watch as your boyfriend moves through the kitchen. A small plot comes to your mind as while yes by the end of it you’re gonna be roped into cooking with him. That doesn’t really deter you from doing it. Slowly and as quiet as possible you roll off the bed and move down the stairs. Ignoring the looks from the other links as they notice you moving towards the cook. You do have to wait for him to put down the knife before you pounce on him.

“Gotcha!” You rest your chin on his shoulder as your arms trapped him.

Wild had stiffed up as he genuinely was spacing out and didn’t hear you coming. But he smiles and tries to hug you back “I am still in the lead!”

“By like 3 points.” You poke his cheek keeping yourself clinging on him. He kissed your cheek and continues on cooking not even phase about the extra weight. Using this to your advantage you nuzzled into his crook of his neck. This was incredible hard for him to move around which was funny to watch as he slightly struggled. “Do you want me to help?” You asked.

“Please?” You think about it for a minute before pulling away from him reluctantly with a dramatic sigh.

“Fiiiiine.”

Four:

- Small spoon. Wait this isn’t cuddle head canons. Four is fine with hugs, honestly give or take really. You gotta remember Vio and Blue probably don’t care or want hugs, while Green and Red actually like hugs and would welcome it!

- In general he wouldn’t want surprise hugs he doesn’t particularly like it as he is probably one of the boys that don’t like PDA in front of others. If you do it in private thats fine. He just wants to not be teased by others tbh the guy is a bit self conscious.

- You do have conditions to surprise hugs as surprise hugs in the foraged is a huge no. He doesn’t want you to get hurt while he is holding hot sharp objects.

Four hasn’t seen you in a while which was normal the two of you aren’t always near each other. However he was suspicious at this point. It was too quiet for you to not be up to something at this point. It’s worrying.

Very worrying.

He heads inside as he goes to find you very much concerned with what was happening. He first checks the living room and kitchen first before going up stairs.

“Huh…” Well Four went upstairs to look in the bedrooms for you and they were empty. He was starting to think he was just going crazy. Walking down stairs he was going to head out again before, he heard small giggling before getting lifted. “ACK.”

“Hello Darling!” You were giggling as you hugged him while lifting him up. “I missed you!”

“So you hide from me?!” Four struggles to get out of your grasp but like a cat he was stuck with getting attack by your love.

“Yes <3”

Wind:

- My son is an older brother. He is no stranger to hugs and honestly is the person that does it the most out of all the chain. Wind is super family oriented and knows that some of the others don’t exactly know what having family is like. So he is taking the mantle of the annoying little sibling.

- It’s honestly nice to get surprised by one of his hugs because even though he literally calls out when approaching you really only have like a millisecond to respond before getting tackled down.

- However there is one person in the timeline that can fully catch him off guard because she loves her brother so much.

Being back at Outset Island was fun. It was a small island yes, so that means not much room for being alone to relax. But thats fine as it was still a time to rest and relax. Wind just wanted to be with his Grandma and Sister. He already leaves often to travel the world with Tetra, he doesn’t need more time away from them. That being said he does have homesickness which this is helping a lot.

He was going around saying his hello’s to everyone on the island but was missing his sister. Which automatically brought about a little anxiety as he continues down the bridge back home. Trying to think of all the places she could be hiding. He did crawl under the house as he had to get somethings down into the basement.

Wind did check the forest too as Hyrule wanted to see a great fairy for reasons. The outlook was also empty. Wind stops when he gets to the beach still trying to figure this out.

“BIG BROTHER!!!!!!!!” A weight launches himself at his back. Then another one joins in. Wind manages to wiggle and turn to see both you and Aryll laughing at him. “Welcome back!” His sister said still giggling.

Wind huffs but smiles and reaches up to mess with her hair. Aryll lets out a squeal but couldn’t escape it as Wind brings her to a hug. “To be fair it was her idea.” You said laughing before Wind drags you in the hug too.

[chestcongestion]

Losing Your Grippe- Ch.2: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Chapter two, here we go. Had a lot of fun and I plan on pacing myself with these chapters so no single chapter is too huge, meaning this will probably end up being a bit longer than D-to-D was.

Word Count: 4,233

Content Warnings: Contagion

Husk ended up falling asleep in the middle of his liquor inventory, not even having the opportunity to leave the bar and head to bed, instead opting to curl up on the floor behind the bar counter- something he had never done sober until that night. 

While sprawled out on the floor, snoring occasionally, Husk’s sinuses grew irritated and swollen, a trickle of watery mucus running from his adorable feline nose and forcing him to breathe through his mouth, his tail unconsciously waving back and forth as he slept. 

Still unconscious, Husk took a sharp inhale and coughed, his sleeping face shifting to an irritated frown as the tickle in his throat moved downward into his lungs. Husk took a second, much shakier inhale, and coughed again, and again, and again. 

Husk slept until around sunrise, occasionally bursting into short coughing fits as his nose continued to run, his joints and muscles became plagued by a dull aching, and the skin under his fur grew hot. Husk’s deep slumber was only broken when a hard object hit him in the back of the head, forcing him to pry his eyes open and stare blearily at the figure above him. 

Unable to make out the shapes due to being half-asleep, Husk didn’t even notice that he was sprawled out on the floor at Alastor’s feet, who heard Husk’s coughing while he was in the kitchen preparing his morning coffee, and hoped that hitting Husk in the head with his microphone would shut him up. 

“Mmm? Who ‘s it?” Husk croaked, his already deep and heavy voice sounding gravely from his constant coughing throughout the night, “Mm… ‘m tryn’a sleep.” 

“Not feeling well?” Alastor asked teasingly as he poked Husk’s cheek with his microphone, refusing to touch Husk with his bare hands. 

“No… not really- SnRRKK!... KHFF-khff!- Mmm,” Husk complained drowsily, holding his chest to soothe the aching in his ribcage that he felt when he coughed. 

Alastor stuck out his tongue, thoroughly disgusted by his ward and opting to deal with the situation in a way that put him at the least risk possible. Thinking quickly, Alastor grabbed Husk’s tail and dragged him along the floor through the hotel lobby before tossing him into the linen closet and barricading the door shut with a piece of wood that he placed under the doorknob. 

Finally truly awake, Husk looked around him and panicked, realizing that he was trapped in a small windowless room full of towels, toiletries, and Niffty’s cleaning supplies. 

“Alastor you son of a bitch, I know you’re out there, open the door- kHFF-KHFF!- fuck!” Husk exclaimed, aggressively wiggling the doorknob and banging on the door as hard as he possibly could with his fists. 

“Hmmm… I’d rather not, it’s far safer for me if you’re nice and isolated instead of filling the air with your-” Alastor shuddered, suppressing the urge to gag, “Exhalations.” 

“Alastor I am not in the mood to play with you- Snrkk! SnRkK!- Euch! Lemme out!” Husk said, his tone demanding as he struggled to get his bearings. 

“I warned you that this would happen, you didn’t listen, and now you’re paying the price for it,” Alastor said, his tone matter-of-fact as he poked Husk with the pointy end of his microphone staff through the crack under the door. 

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?!- Khff! KHFFF!” Husk asked, indignant as he continued to jostle the doorknob, struggling to get a quality breath of air in the confined space of the linen closet, especially with his slightly stuffy nose. 

“I’m in no mood to be exposed to your pathogens, Husker, so for my sake I’ve elected to secure you somewhere so I can guarantee your mitts won’t be touching everything,” Alastor replied. 

“Y’know what you motherfucker? My ndose is runnin’ like a faucet down mby face- snrrk! SnRKk!- my throat hurts, and mby entire body is tired and hurtin’ worse than anythin’ I can remember, including you torturin’ me for kicks when you’re bored!” Husk said, his raspy voice adding to the seriousness of his bitter grumbling, “I am not putin’ up with your bullshit today- KHhHFF khff KHFF!- when I get outta here I’m gonna sneeze in your fuckin’ face! Lemme out!” 

Alastor rolled his eyes, “I don’t think so,” he said, casually inspecting his fingernails and leaning against the linen closet’s door. 

“KHFFF-Khfff!” Husk’s coughing was audibly coming from deep in his chest, in spite of it being unproductive and dry. Each hack sounded like it hurt worse than the last one, and Husk’s ragged gasp for air once he was done coughing only made them sound worse. “Alastor… I will break this door down, let mbe out!” Husk threatened, pacing in a tight circle as he attempted to muster up what little strength he had left. 

“Oh please, even at your best you’re no match for me, and now you’re weak as a kitten,” Alastor said, chuckling to himself, “This door isn’t budging and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

Husk got as far away from the door as he could before throwing himself at it, causing the wood of the door to warp from the impact and the wooden plank under the doorknob to crack from the pressure. Alastor, who had been leaning against the door during his taunts, was knocked off of his feet, sliding across the hallway after the initial impact. 

“Hmph! Well that was a bit dramatic, but I suppose I underestimated you, the amount of power your size commands appears to make up for your lack of energy,” Alastor scoffed. 

Husk threw himself against the door again, collapsing against the shelves after his escape attempt still yielded no results, “Lemme out- khff khff-KHFF!,” he begged, staring at the linen closet door with bleary eyes as pain radiated through his body. 

“Alright, alright, I’ve had my fun,” Alastor sighed, “I’ll release you on one condition: you have to promise that you won’t leave the closet until I’m out of the room.” 

“I’m not promisin’ you shit!” Husk yelled, hurriedly jostling the doorknob again and attempting to force it open, only to be slapped with the reality of his predicament when his struggle- once again- proved to be fruitless. 

“Do we have a deal?” Alastor asked, smiling from the other side of the door as he heard Husk’s defeated whine. 

“Okay,” Husk replied, his voice noticeably weaker and more docile as he slumped against the shelves and tried to ignore the aching in his back, “I’ll wait, I promise… just lemme out…” 

Alastor hurriedly kicked away the plank of wood holding back the doorknob and swung the linen closet door open before rushing many paces away, holding his breath. When the linen closet opened, Husk took a few steps until he was out of the doorway, before succumbing to his exhaustion and quietly collapsing to the floor, resting his head on his arms. 

“Husker… the point of  ‘waiting to leave until I left the room’ did still carry the expectation that you leave,” Alastor complained, approaching Husk’s reclined form with cautious steps, poking him with his microphone and feeling a twinge of concern when the jabbing did not produce a reaction.

“Mmm… Khfff-KHFFF! Koff- KHFFF!,” Husk whimpered in between his violent cough, struggling to keep his eyes open. 

“This is ridiculous… Husker get up, you’re just being silly,” Alastor whispered, nudging Husk’s face with his microphone again, ruffling his eyebrows with indignation, “Husk!” 

“Can’t get up… m’ whole body hurts- Khhff- khfff!- just leave me here, I’ll get up eventually,” Husk mumbled, shivering slightly as his face flushed a pinkish red and his nose dribbled slightly, triggering a damp sniffle that only exacerbated the pain behind Husk’s eyes. 

Alastor scoffed, washing his hands of the matter and walking away, grumbling to himself about Husk’s refusal to humor him. 

Once Alastor left, Vaggie- freshly awake and heading downstairs to make herself some coffee and something halfway close to breakfast- entered the hallway, stopping in front of the linen closet upon seeing Husk’s body. 

“Husk?” 

“Mmm?” 

“What are you doing on the floor… halfway in the linen closet?” 

“Alastor… shoved me in… SnFf-SnFF!... ‘m over it, can’t get up,” 

“Did you hurt yourself?” Husk shook his head, his nose twitching desperately before he unleashed a wet and spraying, “HrRR’SCCHOO! HhrRR’SsCHUHH!” into the air. 

“Ohhhh,” Vaggie snickered, kneeling down and pressing a hand against Husk’s forehead, “You’ve got the flu.” 

Husk nodded weakly, coughing into his fist. 

“If I help you, d’you think you’ll be able to stand up so I can get you to bed?” Vaggie asked. 

Husk nodded, grimacing in pain when Vaggie grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet, steadying him by wrapping an arm around his waist, “Don’t think… I’ll be able to make it upstairs to get in bed,” he croaked, still shivering. 

“Hmm… I’ve got an idea,” Vaggie said, carefully walking Husk into the parlor and propping him up against the back of the sofa while she set to work, moving cushions and draping them with blankets and pillows until the large sofa in the parlor looked more like a comfortable pull-out bed with two levels, one on the actual sofa and another on the floor in front of it, “There we go.” 

Husk blinked slowly, focusing on remaining conscious and upright, when Vaggie gently tapped his cheek to make him focus, “Hm- hmm?” he hummed, his vision growing fuzzy. 

“Where do you keep your pajamas?” Vaggie asked, resting both hands on her hips. 

“Mm… HhRr’SSCHUUH… hNK’TSSHUHH!- snFF!- Mm.. in my nightstand drawer,” Husk mumbled, dragging the back of his wrist under his nose before wiggling it to stave off the persistent itch. 

“I’ll be right back, try not to fall over and die, please,” Vaggie sighed, hurrying upstairs while Husk swayed back and forth on his feet, steadying himself with the back of the sofa and shivering like an anxious chihuahua, his teeth chattering. 

While Husk waited for Vaggie to return, he was suddenly startled by Niffty and Angel, who walked into the parlor from upstairs- Niffty still in her nightgown and Angel dressed and ready for work. 

“There you are, was wonderin’ where you were when I didn’t see you head to bed last night,” Angel said, “Fell asleep at the bar?” 

Husk nodded, massaging his eyes with the heels of his palms in an attempt to combat his throbbing headache. 

“You hungover?” Angel asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Husk shook his head, wobbling a bit on his feet, “ ‘m sick,” he mumbled, twitching one of his ears and trying to stave off another irritating dry cough. 

“I knew it!” Niffty giggled, climbing up Husk’s back and clinging to his shoulder as she massaged his glands with her tiny fingers, “I knew your snoring sounded stuffy!” 

“Quit starin’ at mbe while I sleep- Khff! Khff!- I don’t trust you,” Husk said, narrowing his eyelids. 

“Awwww, that’s no fun, you’re so cute when you sleep, sometimes you paw at the air like a little kitten!” Niffty said jovially, poking Husk’s nose and massaging his cheeks, giggling when Husk weakly tried to swat at her.  

“Niffty, leave Husk alone, he’s contagious and he’s not in the mood to put up with your shit, get off of him,” Vaggie ordered, appearing at the bottom of the stairs with Husk’s pajamas folded over one arm and a drowsy Charlie clinging to her in the other. 

 Husk pulled on his striped pajama bottoms and removed his bow tie before fumbling with his hands in an attempt to fold his slacks and suspenders. 

Vaggie rolled her eyes, taking the pants from him and guiding him to the lower level of the makeshift sofa-bed, helping him sit down and get comfortable against the cushions and sheets, “Don’t worry about it, for fuck’s sake, you’re sick as a dog, I will fold your pants for you,” she instructed, setting Charlie down on the upper level of the sofa-bed and quickly folding Husk’s pants. 

“Husk I’mb so sorry I got you sick- Hh-KHFF KHHFFF!” Charlie apologized, taking a shaky gasp of air before tucking her face away into both hands, “khff- khff khff! KOFF-Khfff khfff!” 

“No hard feelings, kid- snff!- it was gonna happen eventually anyway,” Husk said in reply, his words melting together a bit as he tried to remain coherent while exhaustion tugged at him, “Feelin’ any better?” 

Charlie shook her head, “Everything hurts so mbuch- SnRKK!- Owwww,” she whined, massaging her temples, “I can’t- kHFF khff!- stop- KHhhff!- coughing, either.” 

Husk hummed as a solemn reply, his eyelids threatening to close before Vaggie smacked his left cheek until they snapped back open, making Husk groan, turning away from Vaggie’s hands only for her to grip his cheeks with three fingers and turn him back around to face her. 

“Poor baby,” Angel crooned, gently scratching behind Husk’s ears,  “I’ll bring ya’ somethin’ when I get home later, I gotta get to work.” 

Husk weakly waved Angel goodbye, a soft smile on his face in spite of Vaggie’s slender fingers still holding his jaw. 

“I gotta get back to cleaning! Husk’s germs are all over the bar and all over my stuff in the linen closet!” Niffty said, rushing out of the parlor to grab a bottle of disinfectant and a rag. 

Vaggie let go of Husk’s cheeks, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand while he was distracted, “And I have to check your temperature,” she said, “Open your mouth.” 

Husk obliged, letting Vaggie slide the thermometer under his tongue and waiting patiently, trying his hardest not to shiver until the thermometer beeped. 

“103.5,” Vaggie read, cleaning off the thermometer and setting it down on the table next to the sofa, “Either of you need anything to get more comfortable?” 

“Could I have another glass of apple juice, please?” Charlie asked weakly, her teeth chattering slightly from the onslaught of febrile chills that wracked her body. 

“Of course,” Vaggie replied, kissing Charlie’s forehead, “Think you could also manage a cookie? You need something in your stomach.” 

Charlie winced, thinking of swallowing the harshly textured cookie and feeling a phantom scraping sensation against her already-raw throat, before shaking her head. 

Vaggie smiled, but rolled her eyes, “Alright, I’ll think of something else,” she said, gently smoothing out a piece of Charlie’s hair before leaving the room and coming back with a glass of chilled apple juice and a plastic cup of butterscotch pudding, “will this work?” 

Charlie nodded eagerly, accepting the pudding cup and accompanying spoon and slowly eating small spoonfuls, “Thanks, Vaggiee-E-Eh’KSssSHEW! E-eih’kSschhew!” she said, quietly wiping her nose with a folded-over tissue from her pocket. 

“No problem,” Vaggie replied, turning to face Husk,  “Are you sure you don’t need anything?” 

Husk blinked slowly, huffing and brushing her off, “I’m fine,” he said with a firm tone, scrubbing at his nose with a finger, “Hh! HRrr’SHOO! HrRR’SsCHUHH!” 

“Husk, I promise no one’s trying to coddle you, I get it, you’re strong enough to handle this by yourself, good for you,” Vaggie explained, gently grabbing Husk’s shoulders, fighting the urge to shake him, “But work with me man, you are very sick and you’re only going to get sicker, pick one thing that would make you more comfortable that I can do before I go upstairs.” 

Husk’s previously skeptical expression softened, his narrowed eyelids relaxing as exhaustion washed over him. He shivered, rubbing his upper arms with his palms and shakily breathing through his chattering teeth. 

“HRrR’SCHHUHH! HrR’SsSHOO!- snFF!- maybe just a blanket?” Husk asked, his low voice sounding pitifully vulnerable as he vibrated with febrile chills, “I’m freezing….hH! H-huhh…HnK’TsSHOO!- KHFF khfff!” 

“Definitely, I’ll be right back,” Vaggie promised, wandering out of the parlor and coming back with a fleece throw blanket which she draped around Husk’s shoulders and inspected to ensure that it covered as much of his shivering form as possible. 

“Th-thank you- snFF!- feels mbuch better….SnFF!,” Husk replied, nestling into the comfort of his blanket with a sigh of relief, still shuddering slightly from his fever. 

“Good, I’m glad, I have to go upstairs and make some phone calls, but you guys rest up okay? Let me know if you need anything,” Vaggie said, planting a kiss on Charlie’s feverish cheek and scratching Husk behind his left ear before leaving the room. 

“Husk?” Charlie croaked from her position on the sofa bed. 

“Mhm?” Husk replied. 

“I’b so tired, but everythi’g hurts too mbuch for mbe to sleep,” 

“I know-” Husk paused to yawn, in spite of the act irritating his sore throat, “Mmhh… y’wanna watch TV?” 

“Mbaybe- SnFF! Snff! E-Eihh’KkTsShhiEW! Eihh’KSHHEW!- yeah,” Charlie said, grasping around for the remote to the slightly-larger cathode ray television that sat in the parlor after a bit of negotiating with Alastor about a larger screen being better for the eyes than squinting at the old one. 

Flicking through channels, Charlie eventually settled on a channel that regularly showcased footage from the nursery at the Pentagram City Zoo, and all of the adorable bumbling underworldly baby animals. 

“That’s weird… all the animals must be hidin’,” Husk commented as he shuffled slightly to get comfortable. 

“Aw, wait- ‘Due to a shortage of zookeepers, our regular broadcast is currently on hiatus’- this sucks!” Charlie complained, folding her arms as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, “KHFFF- Khfff- KHFFF!- gasp- KOFFF! KHHhFF!” 

Husk glanced up at Charlie, watching her rub her chest as she panted to catch her breath, her cheeks flushed a deep red alongside the patch of sweaty and flushed skin brought on by her fever. 

“It’s alright, we’ll find somethin’ else to watch,” Husk said, gently bicycling his feet from underneath his blanket in an attempt to soothe his throbbing muscles. 

Charlie flicked through a few more channels, sighing in frustration when nothing interesting seemed to be on, until she accidentally spammed a random channel number after sneezing. 

“Heyy, I know that backdrop anywhere- HRr’SCHUHH!- it’s a poker table,” Husk said, his voice slightly disoriented by drowsiness, “They’re playin’ Omaha Hi/Lo, damn…Khff-khff!”

“What’s Omaha?” 

“Biggest city in Nebraska,” 

“Where’s Nebraska?” 

“Earth, Princess, it’s on Earth,” 

“O h hhh… is it the capital?” 

“No, Princess,” 

“Why is it that so many of the biggest Earth cities are never the capital?” 

“Eh, I think that’s just America, everywhere else the capital’s the biggest by a long shot,” 

“Oh! That’s good, thanks for explaining,” Charlie said with a relieved smile, shivering slightly as sweat trickled down her forehead, “I’m cold…” 

Husk frowned, shuffling in an attempt to stand up, pain and fatigue weighing down his arms and legs as he moved, “I’ll go getcha a blanket, Princess- Hh! HhnK’TSHOO! HrR’SCHUHHH!- snff snff!” 

Husk managed to slowly pull himself onto his feet, swaying a bit and wincing in pain, his breathing heavy and his vision growing fuzzy at the edges, only for something to hit him in the head right before he attempted to take a step forward. “Ow! What the fuck?!- KHFF khfff!” he yelled, rubbing his head and scowling upon seeing that he’d been hit with Alastor’s microphone. 

“Bad kitty, no leaving the area of containment,” Alastor scolded, gently rubbing behind Husk’s ears before playfully tugging on one, while handing Charlie the pink throw blanket from her and Vaggie’s bedroom, “There you are, my dear.” 

“Thanks Alastor- snFF!- we can still get up if we have to use the bathroom, right?” Charlie asked, draping the blanket over her legs and smoothing it out. 

Alastor bit back the urge to roll his eyes, “Of course you may, your doting divine partner simply wanted to make sure that neither of you were exhausting yourselves unnecessarily,” he said, straightening his lapel and shooting an unamused glance at the television screen. 

“Oh, okay,” Charlie said with a yawn, sniffling a bit before pinching her nostrils shut in an attempt to fend off the building itch, “Ehh…e-ehh… EeiiH’KSsHIEW! Eh’KsSHhEW! Eh’KsShiEW!” 

Alastor blinked, biting his tongue as he watched the spray of infectious mist glistening under the room’s lighting, biting down harder upon noticing the patch of damp speckles littering his suit jacket, “Gesundheit,” he said with a tight smile, gently petting Charlie’s head with his microphone. 

“SnFF!- Sorry Alastor,” Charlie said sheepishly, dabbing at her nostrils with the same folded-up tissue from her pocket. 

“Not to worry, I completely understand, it was an honest mistake,” Alastor said through clenched teeth before dropping a box of tissues next to Charlie and handing a separate box to Husk, “There we are, do either of you need anything else before I head out?” 

“Could I have a glass of water?” Charlie asked, turning away in an attempt to cover another violent, hacking cough that left her cheeks noticeably redder and her breathing heavier. 

Alastor gently waved his microphone in front of the end table next to Charlie, and a glass of ice cold water appeared on the table when he moved his microphone away again. 

“Thank you,” Charlie said, taking a few eager gulps before setting the glass back down, “Where are you off to? KHhHff- khff khff!” 

“I’m off to pick up my outfit for the summit from the tailor’s, then I’m going to visit Rosie to ensure that we matched colors effectively, and then I have a brief meeting with Ms. Carmilla to return a book of hers I borrowed,” Alastor said with a nonchalant huff, “Just a few errands, I’ll be back soon.” 

“C-could you tell Ms. Carmine that I won’t be able to make it? I wanted to call but I don’t have her phone number and every time I tried to call the factory I got disconnected,” Charlie requested with a pleading look in her tired eyes before turning away to cough. 

“Of course, I’ll be sure to let her know, rest assured you’ll still be invited to the next one, and I’m certain that your father will be more than happy to promote on your behalf at this summit when he attends,” Alastor said reassuringly, gently petting Charlie’s scalp with his microphone again. 

“Why do you keep rubbing my head with your microphone?” 

“While you’re in such a pitiful state, I feel inclined to provide you with some comfort, but you are also riddled with germs, so touching you with my hands is out of the question,” 

“Oh… well thank you- SnFF snff!- that mbakes sense… have fun with your errands, Alastor,” Charlie said with a weak smile, pulling her blanket further up so that it covered her waist, “KHhFF- Koff KOFF-gasp!- KHhHhfFF! KhHFF- khff khff!” 

Alastor winced, patting Charlie on the back with his microphone, “I’ll try, they’re quite boring errands, but I suppose anything can be ‘fun’ with enough effort,” he said, turning to face Husk, “Do you need anything before I go?” 

Husk yawned, glancing over at the bar longingly, “Mind grabbin’ my bottle of scotch from the bar?” he asked, gently wiggling his nose to fend off an itch, ultimately failing, “HRrR’SCHOO! HrRR’SCHHUHH!” 

Alastor shook his head, “Anything else?” he asked. 

Husk raised an eyebrow, “Hey, I paid for that bottle damnit- snFF!- I can drink straight from it if I want,” he argued, letting out a low growl in frustration at Alastor’s refusal. 

“Of course you can, however,” Alastor said, bending down and pressing the back of his hand to Husk’s searing forehead, “While you’re this feverish, dehydrating yourself with alcohol isn’t exactly ideal.” 

Husk grumbled, folding his arms indignantly, but ultimately relenting, “Fine- snFF!- can I have a glass of orange juice then, please?” he asked, swallowing and trying not to wince at the throbbing pain in his throat. 

Alastor smirked, snapping his fingers and placing his hands proudly on his hips when a glass appeared in Husk’s hands. 

“Alastor this is a cup and two oranges,” Husk said, unamused, “hHRr’SsCHUHH! HRr’SCHHUH!” 

“Alright, alright, I was only amusing myself,” Alastor snickered, waving his microphone over the glass and the oranges, pulling it away to reveal a chilled glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice sitting in Husk’s hands, “Voila.” 

Husk took a sip, licking his lips and setting the glass down on the coffee table in front of him, “Thank you,” he yawned before trying and failing to fight a violent febrile shiver, his cheeks flushing darker, “Fuck, ‘m so hot but I feel so cold.” 

“You’ll be alright, the chills will sort themselves out,” Alastor said, gently patting Husk on his achy shoulder with his microphone, “Well then, I’m off, try not to do anything ill-advised before your supervision returns from upstairs.” 

“We won’t,” Charlie promised with a weak and shaky thumbs up before settling back into her cushioned level of the sofa-bed, tugging her blanket further up on her body and watching the poker match on TV, “Husk, how do you play the Omaha version of poker?” 

“It ain’t that different from a traditional game of Texas Hold ‘Em, only difference is-” 

Alastor rolled his eyes at Husk and Charlie’s drowsy conversation, turning on his heels and leaving the hotel through the front door, still wincing a bit at the memory of infectious droplets spritzing the front of his jacket. Taking a deep breath, Alastor shook the unsavory memory off, and headed to the tailor’s to pick up his outfit. 

So much to do, so little time… and certainly no time for the flu. 

[redsxythe]

The devil in my bed (hisoka x reader) SMUT

(when you feel your relationship with chrollo has run its course you are caught in a moment of desperation you give in to the temptation of hisokas touch)

I sit across from him, the man I once proudly called mine. The room is quiet, save for the steady hum of the world outside, but inside, my thoughts are loud, screaming at me to recognize the truth. I am not blind to it yet still hesitant to throw away something that could possibly be repaired.

I don’t know this man I sit across from.

His eyes, once filled with purpose and something I dared to call love, are cold as ice now, as unreadable as the pages of the stolen books he treasures. He doesn’t look at me the way he used to—not with curiosity, not with sexual appeal anymore. Now, it feels like he looks through me, like I’m another object in his world, useful but replaceable.

I thought I knew him. I thought I could unravel the mystery that is Chrollo Lucilfer, stand beside him as an equal, love him in a way no one else could. But the man I fell for—the man who made me believe in something greater than myself—is long gone. Or maybe, I was wrong, and he was never there to begin with.

I still see glimpses of him, in the way he adjusts my coat before I step outside, in the way his hand lingers just a little too long on mine when he takes something from me. But it feels hollow, like muscle memory rather than love.

Lord knows how I craved that man to touch me the way he used to. He hasn’t touched me months. I craved a intimate moment with him .We always made love passionately, rough but passionate.

“You’re quiet,” he says, his voice low, smooth interrupting my thoughts. The same voice that once made my heart skip a beat now feels like a distant echo.

“I don’t know what to say.” My words are careful, measured. I don’t know this man well enough to speak freely anymore.

He doesn’t press me. He never dares to. He leaves the room instead, disappearing into the shadows as he always does, leaving me alone with the weight of everything I’ve tried to hold together.

I breathe deeply, trying to steady myself, but the lump in my throat won’t go away. I’ve never felt so unseen, so unwanted. I don’t know when I started craving something—anything—that might make me feel alive again.

And then he’s there.

Hisoka.

He leans against the doorway like he’s been waiting for this moment, for the cracks in my resolve to finally show. His smile is sharp, predatory, but his voice is soft when he speaks.

“Rough night darling~?” His tone is teasing, but his eyes—those gleaming, dangerous eyes—tell me he knows. He always knows.

I should tell him to leave. I should shut him down the way I always do. But tonight, I can’t find the courage to stop what has always felt inevitable

“I’m fine,” I lie. My voice wavers, betraying me. I quickly flash a shy grin to hide it

Hisoka steps closer, and I don’t stop him. He’s hot, far too hot, and the room feels smaller with every inch he closes between us.

“You don’t have to lie to me.” His hand brushes against mine, light as a feather, but I feel it everywhere. “You look... lost.” He says while placing a hand on my left cheek i Can almost instantly feel it heat up.

I can’t Denie He’s right. I am lost.

And for a moment, I hate myself for the way I don’t pull away. For the way my body leans into his touch, desperate for something—anything—to fill the void Chrollo has left behind.

“It’s not a good idea,” I whisper, but the words sound weak, even to me.

“Maybe not,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over my skin. “But since when have you cared about good ideas?”

I don’t know if it’s the loneliness, the heartbreak, or the way his hands feel against me, but by the time his lips find mine, I stop thinking altogether. I give in to temptation

For the first time in months, I feel something other than emptiness. And I know it’s wrong. I know it’s a mistake. But tonight, I don’t care.

Hisoka and I soon find ourselves on bed he is on top of me like a animal in heat

Hisoka and I soon find ourselves on the  bed he is on top of me like a animal in heat feeling me up under my shirt and soon my pants  his touch sends a sensation through my body I longed to feel

We each begin tossing articles of clothing until each of us are bare he then puts his mouth to my nipple and begins to suck his hands massaging my other nipple I gasp at his action out of sheer shock for a moment the feeling of pleasure just by this is immense

He makes eye contact with me during this I slide my fingers into his hair massaging his scalp his hair is so soft I pull it slightly when he switches to the other nipple repeating the process I can't help but moan

I feel his member harden at my thigh almost immediately after I impatiently slide my hand down to my entrance and begin rubbing gently hisoka gets off of my chest and gives me a look with a slight frown "impatient are you ? Y/n"  he smacks my hand away from between my legs before he inserts two of his fingers

He starts of slow, and I moan the more and more he speeds up he begins to whisper all the dirty fantasies he has had about me in my ear “ever since chrollo first brought you around I knew I wanted to have my way with you “ I look into his eyes

If you were to ask me a year ago if I would find myself in bed with this man I would have told you no and laughed at the mere thought . “I’ll make sure you won’t regret this” he removes his fingers then

Without warning he swiftly enters me I moan his name his size hitting a spot I didn’t know was possible I scratch a back as it hurts just as much as it feels good he thrusts in and out at a godly pace I feel my walls tighten around him he moans as I do

I wrap my arms around his back scratching deeper now screaming his name in between moans I feel so hot hisoka then positions his head into my neck sucking my neck filling it with love bites all the while still keeping the same pace fucking my brains out

I feel hot tears come running down my cheeks at the amount of pleasure I was receiving from this man I feel myself nearing my climax more and more I then tell hisoka this in between moans he shares he is also close to finishing when he finnaly gets of my neck and sees my tear stained face he looks confused and chuckles

“Darling your crying, I hope I didn’t hurt you” I shake my head side to side before he presses his lips onto mine and we finish together I moan in the kiss we remain connected for what feels like hours in that moment before he gets up for air and completely removes himself rolling to the other side of the bed I look over at him in pure admiration I had never made love like that before

Who knew it could be that intense? I had never cried during it before. I had never scratched someone so much. I realize just how badly hisoka’s back is scratched when I see him place a hand on his back and slightly wince

I sit up quickly apologize for scratching him so deeply I then see his mouth shape into a smirk running his hand along my bare thigh exclaiming he preferred rough sex so there was no reason to apologize

The silence after is unbearable the room feels heavier all of a sudden suffocating, as if it knows what I’ve done. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, the faint sound of Hisoka’s steady breathing filling the room. My skin still burns where his hands had been, but it’s not warmth I feel the realization quickly hits it’s shame.

What have I done?

I close my eyes, hoping the darkness will make it all go away, but it only makes his presence feel closer. The bed shifts as he moves beside me, and I feel the weight of him there like a reminder I can’t escape.

"You’re thinking too much," Hisoka’s voice cuts through the air, low and taunting. I don’t have to look at him to know he’s smiling, amused by the chaos in my head.

I wrap the sheet tighter around me, as if it can somehow erase what just happened. I don’t answer him. I don’t trust myself to speak.

"The devil in my bed," the thought strikes like a knife, and I swallow hard, bitterness rising in my throat. "That’s what he is. That’s what I let him become."

Hisoka leans closer, his breath brushing against my shoulder. "Regret doesn’t suit you, darling," he purrs. "You made a choice—own it."

"The devil in my bed," I think again, the words ringing in my head like a curse. "And I was the one who invited him in."