#you can also request to draw fishe on my X

[makikodesu]

Ponytail 🐋🦈 :D

[snowballseal]

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?” 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that. 

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look. 

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.” 

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit. 

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question. 

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly. 

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework. 

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers. 

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

[slytherinshua]

BOYNEXTDOOR WITH KIDS !

summary. you invited your boyfriend to help you babysit! here's how he does. genre. fluff. warnings. kids but nothing else. not proofread. pairing. boynextdoor x fem!reader. wc. 675. request. originally a request from lovely 💗 anon for bonedo x baby fever gf reader. i kinda tweaked it a bit to be bnd with kids but implied that reader still has baby fever which is why they babysit <33 a/n. ugh i wish these were a bit better idk i tried my best!! i literally started writing it out as baby fever reader but then i was stumped how to do it differently for all 6 of them so... i hope this is alright ??? net. @onedoornet

PARK SUNGHO ﾐ 박성호

Sungho would do so well with the little girls you babysit. He would be so down to have a princess tea party with them, and they immediately are in love with him from that moment on. I can see them berating you two with questions about your relationship, especially if the girls were around 4 or 5. They successfully get Sungho to admit that yes he’s in love with you and yes he does plan to marry you someday (if he said no then the girls would have said true love was dead). They plead you to invite Sungho over again to play because they had such a good time. 

LEE SANGHYEOK ﾐ 이상혁

Riwoo is hesitant. He has no idea whether the kids will like him, much less if he would be any good with them. He hasn’t had much opportunity to be around children or babies, so he’s very cautious. He lets them take the lead, but soon finds that it’s easy to entertain them by challenging them to a dance battle or playing just dance lol. He’d probably win over the kids favour by buying them donut holes as well. Overall, he’s pleasantly surprised at how well it went, and maybe he understands your chronic baby fever just a little more now.

MYUNG JAEHYUN ﾐ 명재현

Jaehyun is best with little kids ages 3 and up. His energy matches them so well and he loves to play with them. His imagination also matches that of a little kid, so nothing is out of reach. Whether it’s playing with toys, a board game, or play pretend, he is fully invested in it. Every time he hangs out with the kids you take care of, he ends the day completely exhausted. But you know he had so much fun with the little ones. You just might have to recharge him with a long cuddle sessions cause he swears 6 hours of dance practice is less intensive than 1 afternoon of babysitting.  

HAN DONGMIN ﾐ 한동민

Surprisingly he is the number 1 match for your baby fever. He adores babies, especially the infants that you babysit. He loves to hold them, and they love to be held by him even more. His calm demeanour is very soothing for them. I could see any baby falling asleep in his lap super easily. His prior experience with his sister also helps. He knows how to be gentle and patient with kids, and really understands exactly what they need. In his mind there really isn’t anything cuter than babies :( He talks in a slight baby voice to them as well, he really can’t help it. 

KIM DONGHYUN ﾐ 김동현

I think Leehan would struggle the most. If there’s no common ground between him and the kids, it’ll be hard. But, if any of the kids you babysit are just slightly as weird as Leehan, good luck trying to separate them. I think he would definitely love to draw with the kids, but make sure he is not making any food for them. He’d be unable to say no to whatever they wanted, and they'd either get sick on sweets or sick from impulsively wanting to try his fish food. Then he'll probably be banned from ever going near them again by their parents. Although he doesn’t really get the appeal of little kids, he does admit that it was fun at times to hang out with them. He leaves the babysitting job to you, though.

KIM WOONHAK ﾐ 김운학

Woonhak is so good with kids omg!! At the beginning, he matches their energy so well, but he crashes so fast as well. He would accidentally make jokes that the kids take entirely seriously and end up having to comfort them when they cry. But, despite his mistakes, he’s great at rallying all the kids and being the leader for group activities. If you were babysitting 3+ kids at once, he could definitely help keep track of them all and keep them busy. He doesn’t feel confident with babies, though, as he’s worried he might do something wrong. They’re just so fragile and definitely outside of his comfort zone. 

↳ boynextdoor taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @eternalgyu,, @metalchick529,,

@schmocolateschmchip,, @kpoprhia,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @blossominghunnie,,

@kangtaehyunzzz,, @snowflakemoon3,, @lovialy,, @lecheugo,, @okshu,,

@wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @emmylksblog,,

@talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @dimplewonie,,

@hrtsvivis,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @kristianities,, @gong-fourz,,

@nonononranghaee

[always-just-red]

@irandial and @micasosa34 requested a Rafayel version of this fic, so here it is!! This is a loose sequel, but mostly a spin-off? Also an emotional rollercoaster, sorry! (I fear I put too much of myself in this one, guys... there will be no beating the 'oh you are ACTUALLY in love with this man' allegations after this.....)

Fourth Wall (Rafayel Ver.)

Rafayel x Player!Reader 🔥

(Previous part/Sylus version here!)

Summary: You didn't think Rafayel would let you walk around an art gallery all by yourself, did you?

Genre: Angst! This is my revenge for the claw machine debacle (Checkmate, Rafayel!!! But also I'm sorry and I love you)

Warnings/Additional tags: player!reader, gender neutral, fourth-wall breaking, non-canon, one instance of swearing

| Word count: 2.4k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You made it through about two rooms of the gallery before thinking about Rafayel.

You stand in front of a dark seascape: a night sky and a symmetrically black ocean framing the plight of a small fishing boat, adrift in the centre. The moon casts a pale, faraway light, and an orange lantern glows, drawing colour from the oppressive darkness— deep blues, and rich, shimmering turquoise, crested with white.

It should evoke some feeling of smallness, some respect for the vast indifference of the natural world, but no— your mind is set on the fictional artist who lives in your phone.

What would he think about it? What would he have to say?

At the moment, you suspect it would be some remark about how you should get your own opinion, rather than piggybacking his.

Still, it gives you an idea. You glance around self-consciously as you draw out your phone and earphones— tucking the latter into your ears as you offer a curt smile to the nearby gallery attendant. You’re not breaking any rules by loading up Love and Deepspace, but it feels slightly ridiculous in a place like this: full of real and honest things where you’re somehow lonely.

You log-in with a tap. “Let’s go to the beach,” Rafayel greets, his voice as warm as sunshine that melts a cold morning haze. “I never get tired of seeing the sunset there.”

You smile more sincerely, tousling his hair, but then it’s straight to business. You drag him into the AR Photobooth, directing him through a few poses until you find one you like: a duo pose. His fingers are meant to be around your chin, but without you, he seems to be pointing. Perfect, you shift— tilting your phone until the painting sits behind him.

He’s winking at you as he gestures to it, his face and body as still as marble.

You’re about to take the picture when a not-so-distant conversation strikes up, making you glance backwards. Another visitor is asking the attendant about a painting, and you lower your phone’s volume a notch so you can eavesdrop on them.

“This is one of Turner’s earliest paintings, y’know? He was young when he painted it. Like, super young.”

You freeze. The attendant and the visitor aren’t standing by a Turner painting; you are. Your gaze snaps back to your phone, drawn by the familiarity of the voice.

Rafayel’s turned away from you. He’s staring at the painting, one hand on his hip and the other up by his face, stroking his chin. He’s swaying on his feet gently, his head tilting as he takes in different parts of the seascape.

“You gonna take the picture, cutie?” he asks, glancing back at you with a knowing grin.

Your lips have parted slightly in surprise, but your finger manages to find the photo button. Rafayel returns to his candid observations just in time for your screen to flicker, mimicking a camera flash. 

“Ok, one more.” He turns around and settles into a new pose. You take another photo. “Nice,” he beams, “you’ll send those to me later, yeah?”

But you can’t—

“Relax, ok? I’m kidding. Now come on,” he pokes at the edge of your screen like a mime trapped by an invisible box. “Move this thing! I wanna see what else they’ve got here.”

You do move, but not to show him around. He gets a blurry view of the floor as you hurry over to a nearby bench, sinking down with a sigh because you can’t believe this is happening— again. With a few taps of your finger, you draw the curtains on Rafayel’s view to your world and return him to his.

“No, no, no! What?” he groans in disbelief, suddenly back in the Destiny Café. He throws himself into the armchair with reckless abandon— limbs sprawled— one hand over his face as though it would pain him to look on anything at all. “You find out I’m self-aware and the first thing you do is drag me back here? Where’s your heart? Your empathy? Your soul?”

You poke at his hand and he swats at the air like you’re bothering him.

“Leave me alone. Can’t you see I’m busy, like, contemplating the futility of my existence?”

So dramatic! You consider closing the app out of spite, but this is Rafayel. You know Rafayel; look past the theatrics. It’s been, what— just over a month since Sylus first told you he’d seen through all of this? He said the others were lagging behind, but maybe…

Maybe they weren’t.

Shit. Maybe they weren’t.

You watch Rafayel, sunken down in one of two places you’ve seen him inhabit every day, every night, for almost a year. This café isn’t different from the old in any way that matters. Sylus is new but Rafayel has been here from the very beginning. So many more days. So many more nights.

How long has he known?

He lifts his hand, just enough to peer in your direction. You’ve not closed the app. You’re not poking at him anymore. He sits up straighter in the chair, both hands in his lap, and he looks at them pensively. Maybe even remorsefully.

“You’re thinking about what it all means, huh? Don’t.” It’s a command, but it’s soft. Then softer, a: “Please?”

Your breath catches— oh— he’s known for a long time, hasn’t he? You lean back against the gallery wall, grounding yourself as you text him an emoji: a chick bursting out of its shell with question marks over its head.

He pulls out his phone. Sees it. “Why?” he translates with a melancholic chuckle.

Yeah. You tickle his head. Why?

He runs a hand through his hair. “I guess… I didn’t want you to feel bad?”

You text another emoji and he glances down at it, then laughs more loudly: “I’m a dummy? Check a mirror, cutie— isn’t it you who’s been walking around thinking Mister Wannabe Vampire is the only one smart enough to figure this all out? Puh-lease.”

He laughs even more at his own joke— maybe to fill the quiet and the fact that he can’t hear you laughing with him. It peters out like it inevitably must, and like it always does. He goes still.

“Can’t you show me around, even a little?” he asks.

No.

You feel bad, you do, but you can’t start living for him. This is your world; if you invite him in now, when does it stop? You already spend too much time with your head down, lost in your phone. You were walking through a gallery and thinking about him, remember? Art is supposed to make you think about something real.

No, you text him: a crow holding a sign with a big, red cross. It’s too abrupt, but there’s not an emoji for “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

Rafayel’s face falls further as he checks his phone, his eyes like the ocean in the painting across the room: lit by a weak, failing little light. He looks to you, even though he can’t see you. “Please?”

You don’t move.

“Please,” he tries again, “just this once— this once. Is that so much to ask?”

You’ve used up your three means of answering him.

He scoffs in dismay, alone in the silence of everything you can’t say— you couldn’t say— even if you were really with him and the distance between you was merely invented. How could you go to him, hold his face in your hands and tell him the truth: that you care, but not enough?

Here, now: the quiet confesses it for you.

Rafayel stands from his seat, taking a step closer, his gaze dark. You can see his eyes more clearly; that lantern is at the bottom of the sea, with the rest of the ship and everyone on board. “Do you know what my life is?” he asks, and the silence has become his ally, punctuating his every word so it can cut more deeply. “My life’s an empty café, a book with blank pages and a phone that won’t ring.”

The curtains behind him move softly with a superficial breeze, lit by a superficial sun.

“The only thing that’s real,” he says, “is you.”

You feel like the breath’s been knocked from your lungs.

You can’t resent him for it. He could have drowned you from the start, could have dragged you under a weight of responsibility, but he didn’t, and that’s Rafayel: always tempering himself into something less lethal. He’s been so still for you. So silent for you.

Your mind is wrapped in a vow you made him— one you’ve been unconsciously breaking— and you’re going to break it again, knowingly, wilfully this time, because you want him like this: angry.

You promised, didn’t you? I will never make Rafayel wait for me.

He’s always been waiting, and you want him to stop.

You close the app, muting your phone when notifications start coming through: a squall of frustration, pleading, and frantic apologies. You tuck all of it into your pocket and stand, wandering back to the painting that started it all so you can look at it differently.

Something real to think about. Something real.

You stare at a black ocean and think about him.

…

Rafayel isn’t talking to you.

It’s been a week since your ‘breakup’— dubbed gleefully as such by Sylus— and you load up the game to find your artist slumped back in his armchair, his book over his face. A week of him sitting down, cross-legged and armed, during the Deepspace Trials you’d set out to clear with him. A week of him hogging the Claw Machine, and missing every rare plushie with a sarcastic ‘oops’.

The worst part is that you’ve missed him. You’d tried replaying the kindled moments from his five-star memories, but he’d made you regret it. In Sparkling Traces, he’d summed up his feelings in a very… colourful drawing. Omnipotent Perception: he’d slipped deeper into the bathwater, a blush on his face as he avoided your gaze and murmured something about you ‘having some nerve.’

Now, you can’t even call him over to you. You poke at the book on his face, once, twice, then repeatedly until it slips, but his hands shoot up to catch it. He holds it in place.

Ugh. If he would just—

You drum away at the book more vivaciously, but his grip is solid. Plan B, then: you open your in-game messages and send an emoji instead. Rafayel stirs, one hand moving to his pocket and the other lifting the book so he can peek down at his phone. “What— you tryna bribe me now?”

He’s looking at grumpy crow holding out a present: a bundle of shiny, red gems. His translation is spot-on, as per usual, and you reward it by poking at his chest. He frowns down at the contact, then sits up, rolling his eyes as he tosses the book over his shoulder.

“This better be good,” he yawns, standing up and stretching with a listlessness that could only be described as cat-like, however much he’d whine about the comparison.

Having won his attention— and begrudging consent— you navigate your way to the AR Photobooth. Rafayel stares at you from within the frame: an unwitting subject of a portrait he doesn’t yet understand, but he soon will. You smile as he turns cautiously to regard his backdrop.

Behind him, the ocean laps at a shore of pale sand and stretches into the horizon, where the sun lazily dips. There’s about half of it left, turning the sky a blurred palette of orange and pink that’s spilled over the water. Clouds are few and dark purple, their linings aglow.

Rafayel’s folded arms have dropped to his sides. After a few, long seconds, he gazes back in your direction, eyes wide with surprise before they soften with a radiant smile.

“You—” he starts, and it could be something as light as a joke or as deep as a soliloquy. You’ll never know, because he doesn’t put it to words. He glances at the ocean again. Then at you. “Thanks,” he settles for.

You chuckle. There’s not many ways you can answer without tearing him away from the sunset and trapping him back in the café, so you stay sitting still. It’s a different silence than a week ago. There are things unsaid, but that’s ok— they’re the sort you don’t need to speak aloud, anyway.

Your shoes are set aside by your feet so you can feel the sand, still warm beneath your toes. You wiggle them into it, gazing out over the ocean as the evening breeze catches and plays with your hair, and the last of the sun trails over your skin. You stare out at where it’s sinking.

Rafayel moves, and your focus meanders back to your phone. He’s walking away from you, gradually— retreating further into the composition you’ve created, just for him. He looks as though he’s nearing the shore, but it’s cosmetic: there are no footprints in the sand. His hair isn’t moved by the same breeze, and his face isn’t gilded by the same light.

He stops by the ocean’s edge and crouches gently, mesmerised by the push and pull of the tide. Slowly, humbly, he reaches out a hand and lowers his fingers towards the water; they never slip beneath the surface, and they don’t stir a ripple.  

Rafayel laughs, masking an undertow of sadness, but not disappointment. “It’s funny,” he says, still sketching invisible, ineffectual shapes. “Loving the ocean as much as I do, and knowing… knowing I’ll never touch it.”

He’s all the way over there, but his voice is in your ears, so intimately close. You swallow an ache.

He looks up at you. Smiles: “Y’know what I mean?”

You’re using memories to complete the picture: His hair, mussed by the summer breeze that day you stood amongst the cherry blossoms. His face, painted by the sunset of a different life, where you’d roamed a desert together. In each and every moment, his eyes are the same, just as they are now: kindled by a tender, tentative fire.

“Yeah, Raf,” you say to yourself— just yourself. “I know what you mean.”

[surielstea]

Comfort by Candlelight

Based on this request.

Pairing: Lucien Vanserra x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lucien comforts Reader during her torturous cycle.

Warnings: Mentions of menstrual periods | descriptions of throwing up | heart wrenching fluff (I need this man badly)

2.5k words.

The ache in my body came in relentless waves, crashing harder into me after the last. I'd barely made it into my room before collapsing onto my bed, curling into a ball and burrowing into the cold pillows, seeking reprieve from the sharp twists in my abdomen as I tucked my legs to my chest and let out pitiful, quiet sniffles.

The knock on the door makes me groan, half of me wishes whoever it was would just go away. Of course, the door creaked open and I was met with a concerned-faced Lucien taking up the doorway with a steaming mug in his hands.

He paced to my bedside, setting the hot tea down on my nightstand. "I made your favorite blend— it's not as good as your brew but, I tried." He mumbles and I smile softly at my mate. His amber eye looks me over, his brows creasing as his concern grows for me.

"Also—" He fishes a small vial from his breast pocket, the clear liquid inside already making me grimace. His eyes softened at my reaction to the pain tonic. "I know you hate the taste but it'll take the edge off." He reassures, placing the vial beside my steaming tea. "So let's sit you up and you can wash it down with some tea yeah?" He says, standing upright and peering down at me.

Slowly, I nod and he moves to help guide me up, putting a pillow behind me as I lean back against the headboard. "Alright?" He asks cautiously and I nod again.

"You don't have to baby me, you know," I remark as he hands me the vial after unscrewing its cap.

"I know I don't have to," He says, grabbing my tea, keeping it warm with the fire at his fingertips. "But I want to." His gaze doesn't falter as he brushes a lock of hair behind my ear. "Now drink, and then you can have the tea." He croons, keeping my mug captive.

I huff a sigh as I bring the vial up to my lips, trying not to breathe in as I downed the oddly thick, syrupy medicine. I groan as I swallow it down and he was quick to bring the rim of the mug to my lips. I drank deeply, the perfectly tempered beverage spreading warmth throughout my entire body. I hum delightfully and take another sip, pulling my legs up to my chest.

"Good?" He asks tentatively and I nod, pulling the drink away.

"You might have to start making my tea all the time," I chirp as if it were a warning. He smiles softly, leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of my head.

"Fine by me, just say the word and I'll do anything to make you feel better alright?" He murmurs into my hair, his calloused hand cupping my cheek gently.

He pulls away and I look up at him, tears brimming my eyes. His brows crease. "No, no baby what's wrong?" His hand on my cheek moves along my jaw, wiping the invisible tears beneath my eyes. "Nothing— you're just, so kind to me," I sniffle. He knew full well I was only acting like this because of the imbalance and swing of my hormones but it was still endearing to see me so torn up about his affection. "I don't deserve this," I murmur and his smile shifts into a frown, that, that he had a problem with.

"No." He said sternly. "No, my love you deserve everything good that there is." He reassures. "Now I'm going to draw you a bath, you stay here alright?" He said and I nodded, still sniffing.

Only a minute later he was returning to my side and guiding me into his arms, carrying me bridal style into our bathing chambers. He gave me the dignity of undressing myself while he poured my favorite oils and salts into the bath, stirring it with his hand, simultaneously warming it with the fire in his veins.

Once I was bare he guided me into the warm water, my muscles immediately soothing over at the change of temperature. I let out a soft sigh as I relaxed into the tub, leaning back and allowing the heat of the water to sink into my very bones.

"Are you trying to make me love you more?" I ask through a groan as he moves to lather an expensive-smelling soap along my bare skin.

"Is it working?" He asks with a sly tone, and there was that bantering, foxlike Lucien I loved.

"Maybe, keep going, and then I'll decide," I murmur, leaning into his touch, the familiar sensation of his rough, large hands being so delicate with me. "You know, I could get used to all this pampering," I add, voicing my every thought without any hesitation.

"Mm, good. I'm not going anywhere." He says as he finishes up washing me, not missing an inch.

I craned my neck back to look at him, peeking one eye open and finding his button-up white shirt rolled up at the forearms, but still damp at the edges nonetheless, yet he stared at me like he had no intention of changing until I was asleep.

"Go change, I want to soak for a few more minutes," I shoo him away, waving a dismissive hand.

"I'll be back to dry you off," He says, his tone falling back into that comforting, warm voice.

He shuffles out of the room, leaving the door cracked in case I need to call for him. I released a soft sigh, closed my eyes, and relaxed into the bath. Wincing slightly as a wave of pain shoots up my side. The pain tonic should kick in soon, and then hopefully I'll be able to sleep.

I rub at my eyes, exhaustion from my own body being at war with itself weighing on me with ceaseless pain. If the pain wasn't so intense I think I'd just sleep through the rest of the week.

Lucien came back in, as quiet as a cat on his feet, now changed and styled in only a pair of pajama pants. I admired the view of his bare torso in the candlelight— when I noticed the stack of clothes in his hands, as well as a towel draped over his broad, bare shoulder and a stack of more feminine products in his other hand.

"You want to dress yourself or do you need my help?" He asks as he places everything on the counter. I cringe slightly at the idea of him watching me secure my pad in my undergarments.

"I'll do it," I utter, standing from the tub and he rushes over to hand me the towel.

"Okay, I'll be just outside," He whispers, silently communicating that he didn't care what I asked him to do, and only wanted to help. I nod and take the towel from him, beginning to dry off as he leaves the bathing chamber yet again.

I move to where he had placed my clothes, noticing he had somehow selected my softest nightgown. I smiled and slipped the silky dress over my head, then put on a fresh pair of lined underwear. Once I was done I let my hair down and nearly laughed at the image of myself in the mirror. I looked horrendous, utterly terrifying. I combed my hands through my hair, attempting to create some semblance of being put together.

All the movement was beginning to make me queasy. My breath hitched as nausea began working its way up my stomach. I gripped the edge of the counter, taking a deep breath and hoping it'd fade but my body refused to lose this fight— and suddenly I was rushing towards the toilet with bile rising in my throat.

I hurled, the feeling burning my throat as tears sprang to my eyes. I didn't even hear the door open, or the rushed footsteps before Lucien's warm hand was guiding my hair away from my face and his other was rubbing soothing circles on my back.

I whimpered once the worst of it was over, my body aching as I gasped for air, wiping at my mouth and sniveling.

"I'm disgusting." I huff. "Why aren't you running for the hills by now?" I murmur, looking at my mate lazily.

"I've seen worse. Trust me, this doesn't crack the top thousand." He reassured and I let out a breathless laugh.

"Top thousand, hm? You must've led a very interesting life before you met me." I drawl, my voice weak due to the rawness of my throat.

"I don't remember much of a life before I met you." He said cheekily and I rolled my eyes.

"How can you tell me that when I've just puked half my lunch up?" I scowl.

"Because you're beautiful." He replies without missing a beat.

"Liar." I retort.

"Maybe, but it hasn't stopped me from sharing has it?" His smirk deepens.

"Pervert." I huff.

"I prefer 'Devoted Mate', but whatever you say." He continues and I frown at his insistence on being the best male I have ever met.

"I'm going to bite your face off," I warn, deciding my nausea was done wreaking havoc on my body and stumbling to my feet— which Lucien had guided me to.

"As long as you're not biting any other parts off, we're doing just fine." He jokes as I walk over to the sink, cupping my hands beneath the cool water and rinsing my mouth thoroughly.

"Careful," I cautioned while wiping my mouth. "Or I might reconsider." I smile, wrapping an arm around his bare torso and leaning on him for support as he takes us back over to the bed.

I flopped down onto the warm mattress, curling into the excessive amount of decorative pillows that I was too exhausted to throw off the side of the bed. "Oh, love," Lucien tuts, guiding me to readjust into a more comfortable position, then taking the time to remove the useless pillows from the bed. "Better?" He asks as he sits on the edge of the mattress, helping me pull the blankets higher up my body.

I nod softly. "Much better," I murmur and he smiles, his eyes flicking over to the spot he usually slept in.

"Do you want your own space tonight? I can sleep on the couch— or even the floor if you want me to." He offered after a moment of silence.

I nearly laughed. "I don't want you anywhere but right next to me," I say with a shake of my head and his shoulders slumped in relief.

"Oh good, I really did not want to sleep on the floor," He sighed while slipping into his side of the bed. I giggle, the sound turning into a groan as a piercing pain twists in my abdomen. The corners of his lips tug downward at my clear discomfort. The tonic should've begun working by now, but something told me I hurled that back up only moments ago.

"I wish there was more I could do for you." My mate said with a reassuring kiss to my temple while gathering me into his arms, pulling me into his chest, and encasing me in the scent of a crackling fire and sandalwood, the smell reminding me of being wrapped in a well wore leather coat on a crisp autumn morning.

"There is one thing you could do," I suggest slowly and he looked at me curiously, and even in the dim light I could see the devotion in his eye— the willingness to do anything I asked, silently pleading with me to just say the word.

I reach around to grab his hand that was resting on my ribs. I brought it around, guiding his palm and long fingers to cup over my lower stomach. "Mmkay, now warm it up," I mumble, his brows crease in confusion but he does as I say— and his hand feels like the first rays of the sun after a long winter.

I smile as my sharp pains ebb away from the heat, my muscles relaxing under his loving touch. "Am I just your personal heater?" He asks in a quiet voice, rubbing his thumb over the area of bare skin.

"A damned good one at that," I murmur while burrowing into his neck, craving the warmth there too. I kiss his bare collarbone, delighting in the sensation of his heated skin beneath my fingertips.

He pressed kisses to my hairline, so subtle I wouldn't have felt it if he were anyone else— but Lucien's kisses were different like each one was a piece of himself he was offering to me, heavy with the weight of his love. I pulled back from his shoulder to look up at him curiously.

"Thank you, Lucien," I whispered, my lips ghosting over his.

"Don't thank me." He shakes his head, his nose grazing mine slightly at the action. "Don't you ever thank me." He leaned closer, closing the distance between us. I melted into the feeling of his lips on mine, his hand on my abdomen growing slightly hotter as he got lost in my lips. I hum in amusement, pulling back and for a second I thought he might chase me back onto his mouth, but he remained still, staring at me with only reverence.

"I love you," I profess quietly, my hand coming up to cup his jaw, my thumb brushing over his cheekbone. "So much," I add, leaning in once more, chastely peppering kisses over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, where sun-kissed, freckled skin was.

He smiles beneath my soft kisses, his eyes shimmering with warmth and affection. "I love you too, more than words can ever express," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. The sincerity in his gaze makes my heart swell, the ache in my body momentarily forgotten in the presence of his love.

As I pull back, I rest my forehead against his, letting the moment linger. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of us cocooned in our little sanctuary. "You're so good to me," I whisper, brushing my fingers through his tousled hair. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," He retorts, guiding my head back into the crook of his neck. “Rest now, you need it.” His hand soothed through my hair, detangling the ends silently, the quiet intimacy of it all making my stomach twist— this time, in a good way, similar to butterflies soaring.

“Goodnight Lu,” I murmur into his warm skin, pressing one last kiss to his neck. He didn’t reply, just continued to stroke my hair as I succumbed to the warmth of his affection, the darkness of night slowly wrapping around me— and he was the flickering candlelight that lulled me to sleep, my body finally finding rest as I meet a peaceful slumber.

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[asterias-record-shop]

𓆩[in our next life]𓆪

𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the main taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! District 4 Victor! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut, slight angst

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 23K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - Peeta and Katniss weren’t the first to fall in love after the games. That title went to you and Finnick, your mentor after you were Reaped at the age of fifteen two years after Finnick. After being dragged back into the Games with the Quarter Quell, you both are determined to stop it, no matter what- especially if one of you would gladly sacrifice themselves for the other.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - Use of Y/N || i promise I do not write like this in the fic- || reader was also forced into prostitution, but Finnick forced Snow to make them a pair || reader is definitely bi but has no (sexual) relations with women in the story || Finnick’s hand around your throat can be seen as sexual but it’s mainly just a comfort thing at this point || a lot of mixed timelines, sorry want it to play in my favor || mainly based on the movies bc I haven’t read the books in forever || Reader and Finnick are titled the Princess and Prince of the Capitol || you basically replace Annie || inspiration of your story from other characters || weird baby names inspired by the sea (cuz District 4, sea fishing etc) || This is so going to be a series- || smoking, smoking opium || This actually takes place in several different times, first the drawing for the Quarter Quell to the carriage rides where you meet Katniss and Peeta to the interviews to the literal Quarter Quell, being rescued, then skipping to after the rebellion is won (my darling doesn’t die, he didn’t deserve it &lt;3). || Cinna isn't dead and he’s your stylist, and you and Finnick get married twice (once before the Quarter Quell, another after the rebellion) and of course he designs your wedding dress. || Finnick pulls a stunt like Peeta, turns out to be true later on || first marriage is televised a few days before the games, second of course is private || marriage ceremonies inspired by cultures, yes I’m giving District 4 marriage ceremonies and no I’m not basing this off the wedding in the movie, and this is my own little spin on the fic - I didn’t want the wedding to be boring || the party Peeta and Katniss go to in the second movie is your wedding || ngl, with these plans, I’m hoping this is long- || slight rift between you and Katniss at first, but you end up being best friends quickly || you make Katniss question her sexuality bc you top her for a minute- || CPR & mouth to mouth || Classic warning such as cursing, fighting, blood, death, and more to be wary of. || mentions of Finnick’s forced prostitution (brief, my baby has suffered enough) || smut is included in this; mentions of voyeurism and exhibitionism (explained in the story), breeding kink, size kink, oral (♀ & ♂), fingering, spit, slight choking, slight dom-sub dynamics, sex is definitely a coping mechanism, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, cumslut, maybe more?), probably dirty talk if you think about it that way, praise, mentions of a hazy mindset that could be seen as a subspace, definitely a soft dom turned pleasure dom turned rough dom Finnick, and more- just be wary.

—𓆩[CHAPTERS]𓆪—

𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER I 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER II 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER III 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER IV 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER V 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER VI 𓆩♡𓆪 CHAPTER VII 𓆩♡𓆪 EPILOGUE

ALL CHAPTERS ARE UP!!!

—𓆩[DRABBLES]𓆪—

𓆩♡𓆪 N/A

—𓆩[EXTRA FICS]𓆪—

𓆩♡𓆪 N/A

© asterias-record-shop

[galactickle]

You Belong With Me

James Maguire x reader

Summary: “The few weeks James has been with the group, he has somehow become very close with you. Little did the two of you know, you would become even closer than you thought.”

A/N: thank you to @decadenttrashcookiehero for requesting this!! Also FYI: reader is Erin's sister!

Masterlist

The sound of Erin’s complaining pierces your ears as you make your way downstairs to grab some food before school. It’s only the first day back and yet Erin has found more than one way to make the day terrible. First the mess she made in the upstairs bathroom, now this. You sigh, opting to focus on pouring yourself some cereal as opposed to listening to your family bicker. The sound of the tv being turned louder draws your attention, “There’s a bomb on the bridge? How are the kids gonna get to school?” your mum says, rubbing her forehead.

“Their bus can go the long way, relax Mary,” your dad assures.

Aunt Sarah enters the room and the chatter resumes as normal, granting you the peace to return to zoning out as you munch on your breakfast. 

“We better head out,” Erin informs, grabbing her jean jacket and pulling it on. You and Orla clean up your dishes quickly as your Mum begins nagging your twin sister about her jacket. “I’m not a clone, I should be able to express my individuality,” your sister argues, you roll your eyes, not bothering to get involved. “I’m sorry, I’m not wearing me blazer, end of story.”

“Jerry, pass me the wooden spoon,” you have to hold back a laugh as Erin hurries to take her jean jacket off and grabs her blazer, quickly tossing it on, rushing out the door. 

You walk alongside Orla on the way to Dennis’ Wee Shop, the two of you have long been the quietest of the group and often get grouped together. When Erin spots David outside as you’re leaving, you smile to yourself, this outta be good. Your sister walks towards him and begins laughing at nothing, scaring Claire who’s stood back beside you. “No way! Are you serious?” Erin asks no one at all.

“Erin, what are you doin’? Who are you talking to?” Claire exclaims, rushing forward.

This actually draws David’s attention to the two, “Erin, have you got a light?”

“Me? No, I don’t smoke,” Erin responds. 

Beside you, Orla digs in her pocket, fishing out a lighter, “I have one,” she tosses it his way, “I don’t smoke either, I just like meltin stuff.” 

David's head tilts in curiosity as he lights his cigarette, which you actually find kind of cute. Erin promptly ruins anything you felt though, her annoying voice cutting through your thoughts to ask him about his poster for his gig. You nudge Claire, pointing to your watch, she looks at her own, and rushes to pull Erin away, saying you were going to be late. 

“MOTHERFUCKAAAS” Michelle yells from behind you, tossing an arm over your shoulder when she reaches you, “Motherfucker, it’s my new thing, watched this film last night with me dad…” she trails off talking about the plot of the movie, you notice your sister and Claire looking disturbed to your left, and turn your head, almost jumping in surprise at the boy standing over your shoulder. 

“Who owns the fella?” Erin finally asks in a break of Michelle’s rant. 

Michelle looks back at him, then to you, where you’re looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “Me,” she shrugs, “Well c’mon on bullock, are you introducing yourself or what?” She pushes away from you to address the boy. 

You turn to him as he flails his hand in a wave, “Hi, I’m Michelle’s cousin, James,” he practically mumbles, no doubt trying to downplay his very obvious English accent.

“Why is he making that funny noise?” Orla asks Erin, which entices Michelle to go on a rant about the English and his mother. 

You listen for a moment, as Michelle says some awfully crass things about his Mum, following her and Erin as they lead the group to the bus, before you turn to the boy and introduce yourself, “Hi, I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” 

“Yeah,” James seems speechless, “Yeah, you too,” he smiles gently. 

.·:*¨༺----------------------------------༻¨*:·.

The few weeks James has been with the group, he has somehow become very close with you. The other’s still have yet to warm up to him, but the two of you seem to get along great, you both love Doctor Who and other nerdy shit. He has really helped you come out of your shell, you talk more than ever, but mostly to him. And in turn, you have made James feel semi-comfortable in Derry. Little did the two of you know, you would become even closer than you thought. 

Michelle had spontaneously invited your lot to her house. Although apparently, she had negated to tell James about it. 

“Where’s James?” You ask Michelle as the others plop down on the sofa.

“Upstairs probably, little weirdo,” she says the last part under her breath and you roll your eyes as you hurry up the stairs to find him. You had been to Michelle’s house many times so it wasn’t very hard to locate where James would be hiding out. 

Knocking on the guest room door, you call out, “James?”

There's shuffling on the other side of the door, then a weak “Come in,” followed by him clearing his throat and repeating himself.

You open the door to see him sitting on the bed, shoulders slumped. “Is everything okay?” you ask when he doesn’t look up at you. 

He wipes his eyes, sniffling a little, “Yeah, no I’m good,” replies weakly.

You step forward into the room and take a seat next to him, “No you’re not… What’s wrong?” you place a hand on his back comfortingly.

He finally looks up at you through bloodshot eyes, still wet with tears. “I just… still can’t believe my mom would just leave me here, like this, alone.” At the last word he broke out into a sob, leaning forward and into your chest. 

Wrapping your arms around him, you rub his back soothingly, “Hey, it’s okay, you’re not alone… You have me,” you nudge him lightly. He lets out a laugh, but his breathing is still shaky. The two of you sit like that for a while as he calms down. Finally, he lifts his head, looking into your eyes again, “You okay now?” You ask.

“Yeah, thanks,” he practically whispers, distracted by how the afternoon sun casts a halo around your hair and the flecks in your eyes make them even more alluring. You smile softly at him. His eyes are drawn to your lips as you lick them for moisture. “Can I kiss you?” the words tumble out of his mouth before he knows what he’s saying, though he doesn’t regret it, especially when you smile brightly at him. 

“I’d like that,” you agree, leaning into him as he does the same. Heat blooms in your chest when your lips meet, and it lingers as you pull away, grinning wildly at the boy beside you. 

The sound of footsteps stomping up the stairs snaps the two of you out of your daze, both of you scooching further away from each other on the bed to avoid looking suspicious, though the way James continues to look longingly at you doesn’t help your situation. “WANKERS!” Michelle yells as she slams the door open. “Are ya coming down to watch the film or what?”

You look at James but he’s still MIA, so you just nod, hopping up off the bed, “Yeah of course, c’mon James!” and you drag him down the stairs by the elbow. 

.·:*¨༺----------------------------------༻¨*:·.

Hiding that you and James had kissed would have been easy, that is, had you not continued to sneak around together. The other’s never paid you two any attention anyways, so holding hands in between your bodies on the couch, or falling behind them when you’re walking as a group so that he could wrap his arm around you, was pretty safe. But managing to slip away from them to be alone was harder, because you all had done everything together for the past decade or more. 

The only way the two of you had managed to get any time alone together had been sneaking around at school. Which was not an easy task, given you had most of your classes together, but when you didn’t, if you timed things right…

You looked both ways down the hall as you approached the secluded closet. You knock 3 times, and hear the sounds of the door unlocking, and see James peeking his head out,  a big grin spreading on his face when he sees you. His hand reaches out and pulls you in the closet. You let out a giggle and James shushes you by pulling you into a greedy kiss. Your fingers rake through his hair, as his circle your waist, pulling you as close as possible. This isn’t the first time this has occurred, and like clockwork James hands wander upward, pulling up your sweater and shirt. Before and skin is revealed, the doorknob jiggles, a loud sigh coming from the other side. You and James pull away from each other, a panicked look in each of your eyes.

“Oh you’ve got t’be shitting me,” Sister Michael sighs, when she sees the two of you, looking like deer caught in headlights. “C’mon, out wit ya!” she sighs again, ushering the two of you down the hall to her office. 

As you sit in the chairs opposite her desk, you look at each other, tight-lipped smiles on your faces. Sister Michael calls your mum and Michelle’s mum, asking them to come down to the school.

When they arrive, they are shocked to see that it's you and James who have caused quite the fuss, and not Erin and Michelle.

“Thank you for coming down,” Sister Michael sighs as the mothers sit down beside the two of you. “I regret to inform you, but I found these two sneaking around in one of the broom closets. I’m gonna have to suspend them.”

“Sneaking around doing what?” Michelle’s mum asks. 

Sister Michael looks at you? but you quickly avoid her gaze, “They were… kissing.”

“I thought he was gay!” your mum exclaims, more towards Michelle's mum than anyone else.

“Me too! James, why didn't ya tell us you fancied girls?”

“I tried to! No one believed me!” James explains.

“How long are they suspended for?” your mum finally asks, after taking a long look at you. 

Sister Michael ponders for a moment, “2 days.”

“2 days! What am I supposed to do with her for 2 days?” your mum argues. 

“Yeah some of us got to work ya know!” Michelle’s mum agrees. 

“I don’t care what you do with with them, I just don't want to see them back til thursday!” Sister Michael raises her hands as if to say she's said her final piece.

Grumbling, the two mums pull you and James out of the office, where you find the rest of the lot waiting. End of the day must’ve come while you were waiting for your mum. “Well? What’s all this about?” Michelle asks, arms crossed, eyeing you and James. 

“These two were caught kissing in a closet!” your mum exclaims. A chorus of gagging and puking noises sound. 

“Y/N, how could ya?” Claire asks sincerely. You just shrug. 

They're never gonna let you live this down.

[asmolfolk]

Hi S. Can I request hc for Hades (RoR) and fem s/o? S/o is having a bad day and Hades comforts her intimately? 18+ and fluff please. Have a good day/night!

After a long time, guess who is back again? I finally finish my studies and I'm just chilling right now. So, as I'm in a Hazbin Hotel, HSR, Wuthering Waves and ZZZ brainrot And, I'm trying to get back at my feet for writing - if this isn't good is because of that :< (Also if any of you noticed that I didn't put dialogues with the S/O, it's mostly for her to also represent people with disabilities that makes them rely on sign language and everything <3) Also! If anyone is interested in Hazbin Hotel AU's, I have an > alternative Account < for drawings [what will include my au's <3] and also, I will probably start posting some X reader and long fanfics in my AO3 account. Also, I post some arts in my Twitter <3 Click on the pink text to go to the links <3 —— —͙ – -✰ Fandom: Record of Ragnarok / Shuumatsu no ValkyrieCharacters: Hades. Warnings: Smut! —— —͙ – -✰

Hades x S/O: Feelings.

Hades is a simple man: The world could BURN and he wouldn't bait an eye, he doesn't care about humans, about other gods - except for his beloved, Persephone and his Brother. You and Persephone are the only ones who would make Hades go against his brother, against everything he worked so hard to maintain. Hades has no limitation when the topic were the two of you. Even if he wasn't in a romantic relationship with Persephone, this would be the same. You, bless your soul, already knew about his completely devotion - First of all, he never tried to hide it. Anubis, Thanatos and other gods associated with death noticed his demanour since the beginning. [And Thanatos is oblivious as fish swimming in the sea.] Not only that, but also: Loki RUINED your outfit, Hermes had to get you to the underworld - you were so close to breaking down in front of Loki...

This whole event was too much for you, especially because Hermes wouldn't let you interact with him. You had to go to Hades's room and already saw him, he was just with his pant while he seemed to be a bit... Tired, but, he just needed to look at you to have a smile.

"My beloved... What a pleasure seeing you" He looked at you and got closer, taking your hand after seeing the ruined outfit and the dirt, he was immediately pissed "What happened? Who did this to you?"

You couldn't bring yourself to answer him properly, your words were left to nothing as you sobbed, the gibberish you were saying didn't make him understand what was happening, but he knew that you needed a hug... And a bath.

"Come on, my beautiful wife... Let's take a bath"

Hades would spend his whole time just bathing you, hearing you spill your heart to him, telling him about everything that has gone wrong... And he would tell you how amazing you were, how strong you were and to praise you as you continued your story. Only when you were finished telling him everything, he would start to clean you up, he would dare to pick a cloth for you, he would just carry you - again - to his room and lay you down to the bed.

"My wife... Would you like me to sing you praises?" He always said that before going at you... And, as anyone would say. You just nodded. He was imediately, holding your thighs, letting space for him to be in between them "If you want to stop, just say 'Stop', okay? I wouldn't want to overwhelm you." He was always sweet, he always putted your own pleasure as his top priority... He didn't care if he didn't have a shot, if he didn't touch himself... He could be satisfied with just making you feel pleasure.

He started as always, kissing your clit as one of his hand started to do circles through your entrance until he started to push his fingers in and out, he was relief at hearing your moans and pleads to be faster. He just gave anything that you asked him, he started sucking your clit as his fingers started to get faster. As a reflect, you imprisioned his face against your thighs, you felt like you could suffocate him - until you remembered that gods don't need to breath. Hades didn't even cared with how much your legs trembled as he guided you to a much deserved orgasm.

He drinked it, drinked and licked anything left. He - as always smiling and looking at you with pride and love - would just take of his gloves and touch your face. "Do you feel better, my love?" After losing your senses for a second or so, you could only rely on your lips reading to tell him Yes. He would lay at your side, holding your waist and softly caressing your cheeks. "You can sleep if you want to, my beloved wife... I will wait for you."

The day was too much for you... But at least, you would sleep peacefully with your husband at your side, hugging you as if you were close to disapear.

—— —͙ – -✰ The next posts will be: OC x Reader, ROR x Reader and Hazbin Hotel x Reader. Stay tunned <3 [Hazbin Hotel will include Oc's, but they are just there for plot - Since it will be a long fic.]

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Hi!! I think you'll do an amazing job with Tangerine, so if you don't mind: 1) Tangerine x Reader (female or whatever), he gets patched up after a bad mission, and a first kiss happens! 2) Tangerine x F!Plus Size reader, reader is super anxious about her appearance and he aggressively shows her how sexy he thinks she is?

Thank you!!!

oh i adore 1! i don't think i've ever written a first kiss tho, so- i'm venturing into the unknown with this!

also, i know jackshit about medicine. i had to google what the hell gauze means after wikihow told me that you can use it to clean a wound

also here's my masterlist for anyone interested, and feel free to request here

"Stay still", you scold, grabbing his chin harder and dragging him back to face you. That he keeps moving doesn't help in the fucking slightest as you try to wipe at the cut on his face. It's a good thing he hadn't been hurt all that badly, but it's still so unusual. And it's even more unusual that you're the one to patch him up. Actually, it's not just unusual - it's a first.

"This is fuckin' unnecessary", Tangerine grunts, his knuckles turning white as he digs his nails into his palms. "I'm fine."

You huff and try to brush the piece of gauze you're holding over his skin, but he jerks away from you so suddenly that you drop it right onto the floor.

"It's very much necessary", you sigh, digging your fingertips into his chin to keep him steady as you lean down to fish it off the ground. He's like a fucking snake, trying to wind out of your grip and you don't know why. He can't be this worried you'll hurt him - it's not that bad and he's used to pain. Also, he's steady like a rock the rest of the time. There's something wrong. "A cut like this can get infected and leave a scar."

You put the gauze down on the table next to you (you can't use it anymore now it's kissed the fucking floor) and draw your hands away from him to soak a new one before you turn back.

"It'll sting a bit, so stay still", you repeat forcefully as you press it to his skin. He flinches away before you can even grab for his chin again.

"Fuck, love", he rasps, his hand jerking up and his fingers digging through the belt loops of your jeans. You draw in a sharp breath. For whatever reason, your heart misses a beat. That's... new.

"Tan", you breathe, choked up and throaty. He lets go of you again just as quickly as he reached for you in the first place.

A grunt rolls off his tongue, and that pulls you back to reality. With more ferocity than you'd thought, you blink until the haze clears and grab the gauze more firmly.

"Tangerine, I'm sure you've been through way worse", you chide, your voice back to normal again. As forcefully as you can, you grip his chin and maneuver him to face you. "So stay still."

He tries to talk, but you keep him right where he is and it only comes out as a mumbled mess while you press the gauze against his skin - still careful, just not softly.

"Stay still", you repeat. By now it just feels like you're a broken record, re- re- restarting over and over again. By god, Lemon is right, Tangerine is a fucking Gordon. He never listens.

For whatever divine reason, this time, he actually does stay still. Still and quiet. He doesn't even hiss as you brush the gauze down his skin, and when it's soaked with blood, you even risk letting go of him to drench a new one.

"See", you mutter, your eyes focused on the cut you press the new gauze against, trying to work quickly without hurting him. Your free hand steadies against his shoulder. "You can do so well."

It's not weird as you say it. It's weird a heartbeat later, when your brain comprehends just what you've said. Eugh. You can hardly stop from cringing at yourself.

This is not the dynamic you and Tangerine have. This is not you at all. You don't think you've ever told anyone above the age of five 'they're doing so well'. And you most definitely don't tell Tangerine that.

But a muscle in his jaw feathers as you do, and your eyes flicker up to his for just a second - which turns out to be the exact wrong thing to do, because he's already watching you, and there's something inexplicably heavy about his gaze that has you freezing.

Just completely freezing up.

"Tan-", you start - but you can barely get through half his name before he's surging forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips against yours.

Fuck.

Your mind blanks entirely. You truly don't feel like you exist for a moment.

He's kissing you. Tangerine is kissing you. His lips are on yours, his moustache tickles your skin, his hands flatten against your waist and his arms tighten around you.

And then he pulls away again. Just as quickly as he'd leaned in.

"Sorry, love, I-"

You don't know what overcomes you, but something knocks you forward like a tidal wave, right back into his arms, your lips slotting over his once more. The gauze you'd been holding onto for dear life drops, down to the floor or down to his lap, you don't know and can't be bothered to check either, as your hands fly against his chest, fingers cramping into the collar of his shirt and pulling him against you hard.

This time, he pulls back only to grin at you.

"If I'd known that's all it takes for you to kiss me, I would've let someone scratch me up weeks ago, darling."

[tsunami-of-tears]

But Daddy I Love Her

Mor x Vanserra!Reader (sapphic)

A/N: IMO this is some of my best writing yet. Thank you to the anon who requested some angst with Mor. I’ve been wanting to write some more sapphic stuff, so this was fun 💕  Also thank you to @daycourtofficial for being my sounding board ✨ As you can tell I didn’t go with either title option we discussed 😘

Wordcount: 4.4K

Warnings: Female Reader; Angst; Beron being Beron; Controlling father dynamic; visit to the Court of Nightmares; coming out; canon homophobia + patriarchal bullsh!t.

Reader

Your father was a complex character, to say the least. 

He was every bit the callous ruler that he portrayed to the world, but inside his blackened, hateful heart there was a soft spot. You. His only daughter.

While your brothers were pitted against each other and forced to fight for his approval, you couldn’t do much wrong. 

He was protective of you to a fault. So much so, that you were never allowed to court anyone. No one was good enough for his precious pup. Not that you were very interested in males anyway, having grown up with a litter of brothers. You found males irritating at the best of times, and utterly repulsive at the worst. 

You were closest to Beron’s eldest and youngest sons – Eris and Lucien. They were very protective of you too, but in more of an annoying way. They always had your best interests at heart. 

You were never allowed out of the Forest House unsupervised. Adventuring with your brothers was the only time you got let off your leash. You could run with the hounds, fish in the stream with Lucien or just simply be – relaxing under a tree, reading aloud to Eris. 

You often dreamed of a world where you were free. Free from your father’s strict rule. Free to do as you please. Free to be whoever you wanted to be. 

But alas, this was not a world for the dreamers. 

————

The conflict with Hybern was drawing nearer and your father was summoned to attend a meeting with the six other High Lords of Prythian. 

Your entire family was to attend, to showcase the strength of Beron’s brood.

You enter the meeting room together, sticking close to Eris and trying to seem confident, bored even. You keep your head held high, ignoring your brothers’ sneers beside you. 

“Enough” Eris murmurs, calling all three brothers in line. 

You take in the grand room around you, and the wealth of power convened within. 

You recognise most faces from Under the Mountain but some were new to you, their allegiance given away by the shades of midnight blue and black that they wore - the Night Court. The Court that your father despises the most. The Court you were raised to hate.

The High Lord, Rhysand, sat with a casual grace, his great taloned wings stretched out behind him. Beside him was his High Lady, Feyre - the saviour of Prythian - in a glittering dress that looked like it was made of pure starlight.

They were a beautiful couple, and you wonder how evil the male could truly be if he proclaimed his wife as his equal, something that had never been done in all of Prythian’s history. 

The rulers of the Night Court meet your curious gaze; for a second there is understanding on their faces and you have to remind yourself not to smile. 

You break their stare and your eyes flit over two more winged males and a female who shared the same golden hair and blue-grey eyes as Feyre before they settled on a blonde female. 

To describe her as breathtaking would be an understatement. 

She needed no introduction. Not with the rage upon her face as she watched your family, the pure venom in her eyes.

The Morrigan.

You’d never met the female your eldest brother was formerly betrothed to, and he never spoke about her. 

Morrigan’s fury wanes as she looks at you. For a moment you can see behind the mask she was wearing. You can feel the pain underneath, you can see the love for her family and her Court. Only for a moment before she built that wall back up again, sealing herself within. 

You knew her anger towards your family was justified and you couldn’t help but empathise with that. Like so many women, your mother included, she’d been dealt a losing hand.

You successfully kept your eyes off Morrigan for the remainder of the meeting, remembering the role you had to play – the shy, pretty pawn of the Autumn Court. 

If you failed at this game, the results would be devastating.

————

After the meeting ended so terribly, you were hiding out in Eris’s quarters, avoiding the path of Beron’s temper. The pair of you were curled up in front of the crackling fire with Clove, your favourite hound, asleep in your lap. 

Eris has been quiet since returning from the Dawn Court. His mind was surely racing after the encounter with her. 

You turn towards your brother slowly, breaking the silence, “You never mentioned how beautiful she is. You never speak about her at all.”

Eris knew exactly who you meant. “What’s there to say?” He shrugs, “She’s free from the burden of being with me in this festering court.”

“You think so low of yourself, Eris. Someone will be very fortunate to have you doting on them one day.” 

Eris wraps his arm around you and kisses the top of your head affectionately. “Until then it’s just you and me, bright spark.”

You smile at his nickname for you, one he gave you when you were just a faeling. “Don’t forget Clove!” You exclaim, ruffling the hound’s coat.

————

In the months following the final battle against Hybern, Eris spent a lot of time in the Night Court, working to secure a strong alliance for Autumn. 

Eris was about to head off again, to a ball at the infamous Court of Nightmares. 

You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Morrigan. 

You needed to see her again, but she’d never step foot in Autumn. 

You’d have to go to her. 

By the grace of the Cauldron, Beron said yes to you attending the ball with Eris. You were both so stunned by his answer, that you were lost for words. Before dismissing you both, your father had one order for Eris: Do not let her out of your sight.

And so you found yourself in the Night Court, deep inside the Court of Nightmares.

You did your best to bite down on your anxiety as you walked up the dimly lit hallway leading to the ballroom. The intricate carvings of beasts on the walls only add to your feeling of unease. 

You breeze through the large doors, arm-in-arm with your brother. The two of you are the epitome of Autumn. 

Eris wears a suit in a deep burgundy colour, much like the spiced wine you drink to warm your belly on a crisp evening. Your gown of burnt orange swishes around you as you walk, the sequins catching in the faelights, twinkling like the embers of a dwindling fire. 

All eyes turn to you as you walk down the aisle, but you don’t notice them. 

All you see is her, and that golden thread connecting your souls, sealing your fate.

Oh no.

Oh no no no. 

Panic floods your veins as you realise who you’re walking towards. 

Your mate. 

Your brother’s ex-fiancé. Your father’s enemy.

Not her, it can’t be her.

Not here, with so many people watching. 

Your feet slow to a stop halfway to the dais and you turn to Eris. Concern flickers on his face - he can sense something is wrong, he has no idea just how bad it is.

You drop his arm, mouthing ‘I’m sorry’, before disappearing into the air. 

You don’t know where you’re headed or what you will do next. All you know is you need to leave. Now. And get someone safe. 

The thought, somewhere safe, echoes through your mind as you appear in a clearing atop a mountain. 

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, making the sky glow a brilliant shade of orange. The air is cold against your skin, and you rub your hands on your biceps in an attempt to regain some warmth. In moments like these, you are thankful for the fire within your veins. 

You look around, attempting to glean your location. You spot a cabin on the other side of the clearing. As you turn towards it, the front door swings open. An invitation. 

You approach the open door and wonder if there’s a spell on the cabin, tricking you into a false sense of safety to lure you inside to your death. 

You glance around, the only movement you spy is the rustling of leaves in the wind. 

You peek inside and see the small dwelling is well-maintained, but there doesn’t appear to be anyone home. It looks comfortable and homey, with whimsical paintings of vines and flowers framing the door.

Whatever is inside that cabin can’t be worse than the wrath you surely face back in Autumn, so you step over the threshold. 

————

Rhysand

Rhys watches intently as his guests from Autumn walk towards the dais. 

Eris is his usual cocky self, strutting beside his sister. Every bit the High Lord’s heir. Y/N looks like a living fire, glowing as she walks beside her brother. Despite being siblings, there were clear differences between the two fae. Unlike Eris, who Rhys found to be insufferable at times, Y/N had a kind warmth to her. A sweetness that somehow hadn’t been soured by her father over the years. 

She was like the flames that dance in a hearth. The kind of fire used to warm a home or cook a comforting meal that chases away the cold and loneliness. 

Of course, those flames could still burn you if you got too close. 

Y/N stops in the middle of the room. Her eyes not moving from Rhys’s cousin, stood beside his throne. 

‘Something is wrong,’ Feyre says into his mind. 

Rhys quickly throws a glamour over his guests, shielding them and his Inner Circle from the rest of his court. 

Rhys glances at Mor, whose eyes are glued to the flame incarnate before her. 

The expression on Y/N’s face is pure terror as she disappears into a cloud of smoke. 

Eris grabs at the wisps of darkness but it’s too late. Y/N is gone. His eyes are filled with panic as he turns back to Rhys. 

“You Vanserras love to put on a show.” Rhys drawls. “How did she get out past the wards?”

Eris rakes his fingers through his hair, tousling the slicked strands. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know she could winnow.”

Rhys clicks his tongue, “It seems the little fox was hiding some tricks.”

Eris looks Rhys in the eye. “We need to find her,” He says. 

Rhys raises a brow at the Autumn heir. “We?” 

“Beron will kill us all if she’s gone missing. His only order was not to let her out of my sight.” Eris shakes his head in shock.

‘Azriel, go. See if your shadows can find her.’ Rhys orders his spymaster mind-to-mind before the male vanishes into the shadows.

“If she’s still in this court, we’ll find her,” Rhys says calmly, expertly masking his concern that the Jewel of Autumn vanished while in his court. “Let’s go, we can continue this little chat somewhere without an audience.” He rises to his feet, dropping the shield and addressing his court. “I’m afraid I have to leave you to play amongst yourselves. Keir, don’t make too much trouble while I’m gone.” 

Rhys strides out of the ballroom with Feyre by his side. Eris follows behind closely with Cassian and Mor on his tail. 

————

Once out of view, Rhys takes Eris’s hand and winnows him to the Moonstone Palace on top of the mountain. Rhys heads straight to one of the living rooms, opting for somewhere more comfortable to continue the conversation. He silently requests Nuala bring up a tea service as he sits comfortably in one of the plush armchairs. 

Eris slumps down in the chair opposite Rhys, rubbing his temples. His complexion has paled to a colour much like the white stone walls of the palace. Eris’s usual swagger and charm disappeared with his sister. 

“I shouldn’t have agreed to bring her,” Eris sighs, hands ruffling his red hair.

“I’m surprised Beron let her out of the palace,” Rhys admits. As much as he detests the male, he can’t help but feel sorry for him. 

“No one is more surprised than me,” Eris says. “She was the one who asked to come. When Y/N really wants something, not even my father can say no.” Eris smiles softly, as if picturing his sister’s compelling arguments.  

Rhys nods in thanks to Nuala as she sets down a tea service. He starts pouring a cup for Eris as he turns towards him. “What happened then?” Rhys asks. “Y/N looked as if she’d seen a ghost.”

“The bond snapped,” a female voice says from the doorway. 

Both Rhys and Eris’s eyes snap to Mor as she strides across the room and sits across from them on the sofa. 

“What bond? And who with?” Cassian asks from behind her. 

“With me,” Mor says quietly.

Rhys can’t keep the shock from his face. “But you’re…” He trails off, gesturing at Mor’s figure. 

Mor just sighs, “Cousin, I’ve always known that I preferred the company of females. That’s why he, you know.” She risks a glance at Eris who is meticulously masking his real feelings as he sips on his tea.

“Cauldron, I didn’t think I was that bad,” Cassian jokes.  

Mor rolls her eyes and nods her head towards Eris. “He knew. That’s why he didn’t touch me.  That day on the autumn border, Eris gave me my freedom. I let you believe him to be horrible because I wasn’t ready to embrace that part of myself, truthfully I’m still not.” Feyre places her hand on Mor’s arm as she makes her admission. 

“We’d never judge you for that, Mor,” Rhys says sincerely. 

“It’s been instilled in me since I was a faeling, the fear is not something one forgets easily,” Mor shrugs.  

“When did it snap for you?” Eris asks, his face still void of emotion. 

“At the High Lord’s meeting,” Mor responds. “That’s the only reason I came today, hoping to see her again. I know Beron would never let her be with me, but I still had some shred of hope. Clearly, he’s poisoned her view of me…” 

“He hasn’t,” Eris interrupts. “You’re not a frequent topic of conversation, and Y/N never asked about you until after that meeting. She never said, but I suspect it’s why she wanted to come today. In some ways, she’s lucky that she’s been so sheltered. She’s still kind. She saw how all of you acted that day, she saw through the masks. My father’s only weakness is her. Beron is completely blind where Y/N is involved. He will start a war if we don’t find her.” 

“We’ll find her,” Rhys says. “Do you have any idea where she would go?”

Eris rubs his chin as he contemplates. “She doesn't ever go anywhere unsupervised. She loves being in the forest, but there’s no way she could transport herself that far.” 

“I’ve got Azriel searching,” Rhys says. “There’s not much more you can do right now. You can stay here, I’ll show you to your suite.” 

Eris nods, “Thank you, but if you think I will sleep while my baby sister is missing, you are sorely mistaken.” 

Rhys smirks back at the male. “Oh I know, but this way you can sulk in private.”

————

Eris

Eris is pacing in his room when there’s a soft knock on the door. He exhales before opening the door to the blonde female in the hall. Eris folds his arms across his chest and inclines his head, inviting her inside. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell them the truth,” Mor says. “I’ve been lying to myself for so long, I’d convinced myself that part of me didn’t exist.”

“There’s always got to be a villain, I understand why you did it. But thank you for apologising.”

“This bond... It is not going to go well with your father.”

Eris nods, agreeing with her. “We’ll deal with that later. When I’m High Lord, you’ll be welcome in Autumn again, if you ever wish to return.”

“Will you have me over for tea?” Mor scoffs. “I don’t know how this will work with Y/N or if she even wants it. But I’d like to try if she does.” 

Eris straightens defensively. “I’ll support whatever will make her happy,” He says. 

The pair stand in silence for a few moments before Eris smiles sadly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known,” He laughs. “When she was a child, she never wanted me to play as a prince, we both were princesses… As she grew, she never took much interest in courting anyone. If Beron had forbade me or my brothers there would’ve been a riot on his hands. But Y/N was never phased by it. Truthfully, I think she was relieved.” 

Mor returns his smile. “I’m glad she has you. We’ll find her, don’t worry too much.” 

————

Reader

In the cabin, you stare at the eyes on the wall. You would know them anywhere. 

You knew your mate had been here, maybe it was even her cabin. Deep down, your heart knew you’d be safe here. 

You feel so tired, right to your core. You didn’t know you could winnow, your leash had been so tight you never even tried. Mother knows how far you just travelled. 

A steaming cup of tea appears in your hands, the scent of cinnamon and chamomile reminding you of home. Somehow, the cabin knew what would calm you down.

You pull a blanket around your shoulders and sit on the lounge, worn with decades of use, admiring the colourful paintings adorning the walls and every surface. You can tell this place is well-loved, and many happy moments have been spent here. 

Exhaustion nags at you and you fight your drooping lids until you can’t any longer. You slip into the darkness of sleep, wrapped in the blanket, with your mate watching over you. 

————

You’re woken by a cool sensation on your ankle. You look down and see a wisp of shadows wreathing around. It circles a few times before disappearing into the air. 

It’s early in the morning, the first light creeping over the mountains outside. You’re still wearing your ball gown, the fabric creased from your slumber. 

Your head spins as you remember the events of the night before. 

‘How long have I been sleeping? Oh gods, Eris must be going out of his mind…’

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts. 

You stand slowly, stretching your stiff limbs and go to answer it – for a moment you forget it’s not your house.

One of Rhys’s winged friends stands on the porch. “Y/N, are you okay?” He looks you up and down, taking in your dishevelled hair and wrinkled dress. “You’re not injured? And how did you get inside?”

“I’m okay, I guess. The door opened for me. It felt safe.” 

The male nods, “Eris is worried about you, I’ve just let Rhys know I found you and you’re unharmed.”

“Thank you,” You say. 

“Mor wants to speak to you, is that okay?”

You nod in answer, “Yeah, we probably need to have a chat.”

“She’ll be here soon, can I get you anything?” He offers.

You shake your head, pulling the blanket further around you. 

“Okay, stay inside, she’ll be here soon.” 

————

Eris

Keeping to his word, Eris didn’t sleep at all. He was watching the sunrise breaking over the mountains when he heard a knock at the door. “Come in,” Eris calls out. 

Rhys enters the room. “Azriel found her, she’s safe, Mor has gone to bring her back.” 

Every cell Eris was tensing is released at Rhys’s words. He tries to roll his shoulders but they are stiff after a tense night.  

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Eris asks. “She ran because of the mating bond.”

“Mor wanted to speak to her privately. They are the only ones who understand.”

Eris nods, feeling relieved that his sister has been found. He’ll be able to rest once he lays eyes on her again. “Thank you, for helping,” He says. 

Rhys waves a hand dismissively. “It does work in my favour to return her safely,” Rhys drawls. “But I would do it anyway.” He turns to leave, “You should eat something, it’s been a long night and we have much to discuss now.”

————

Reader

You do your best to freshen up while you wait. You smooth out your hair and change into some fresh clothes summoned by the cabin – a soft v-neck camisole, cropped at the navel and flowing harem pants, more skin than you’ve ever shown outside your bathing room. The matching set is a brilliant shade of forest green that perfectly complements your hair. 

A knock sounds on the door, announcing your mate's arrival. 

“Hello Morrigan,” you say stiffly, unsure where to look or where to put your hands. You settle with holding them clasped at your front to stop their trembling.

“Just Mor if you like, can we talk?” 

You nod and sit across from each other, the air hangs heavily around you.

Mor sighs, breaking the tense silence. “I guess it snapped for you?”

You nod, the words not making it past your lips. 

“This is a cruel twist of fate,” She laughs darkly, leaning forward on her knees.

“Do you not want it?” You ask, trying to hide the hurt in your voice.

“No,” Mor answers quickly. “That’s not what I meant. With my history and our fathers, I don’t see how it could work.”

Why beat around the bush, you suppose? “What happened, with my brother?”

Mor looks at you curiously. “He never told you?”

You shake your head. 

“We were amicable, not quite friends, never lovers. I confided in him about my preference for–” She waves at you. “Female companionship… and that I didn’t want to be someone’s wife. Of course, my father had other plans. I ruined them by… sullying myself, and my father dumped me on the border of your court. I’ll spare you the grizzly details right now, but your brother gave me my freedom. I wasn’t ready to tell people the truth, so I let my friends believe Eris to be a monster. In truth, I was the monster all along.”

You allow her candid words to wash over you. What your brother had done, allowing himself to be the villain when nothing was further from the truth.

You stand, moving to sit closer to Mor.

“I never believed the things Beron said about you,” You admit, looking into Mor’s warm brown eyes. Eyes that are full of hope. 

“I know that I’m sheltered, but I see the way he treats people. Even my brothers, Lucien especially. I do love him as a father, but as a person… he is awful. I long for the day when Eris takes over Autumn, and I can finally be free. Until then, I will dream of a better world.”

A tear falls from the corner of Mor’s eye and you rest a hand on her knee. 

You steady your breathing before continuing, “I’ve never had much interest in males and never allowed myself to consider alternatives. I’d like to try this, if you want to. I know courting in secret will be difficult, but I’m willing to give it a go. I’m ready to start building the world I’ve been dreaming of.”

Tears stream down Mor’s face and she pulls you into a hug. You savour the moment and for the first time, you allow yourself to hope. 

————

“ERIS!” You call out, running towards your brother and jumping into his arms. 

He catches you easily, wrapping his arms around you. “I was so worried, bright spark,” He says softly into your hair. 

“I know. I’m sorry to do that to you. I panicked. I didn’t even mean to winnow, it just happened.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay. But maybe don’t show that trick to anyone else,” Eris puts you down and stands back, taking in your appearance. “It seems this court suits you, Y/N,” He smiles. “Come now,” he extends his arm for you to take, “We’ve got business to discuss with Rhysand. We need to figure out something official so that Father will let you return here with me.” He winks as he walks you to meet with the High Lord.  

————

You’re convinced your brother is a genius. 

He told your father that you and the High Lady got on well and that your presence allowed him and Rhys to get on with business while the females ‘talk about fashion and whatever else they like to discuss.’ 

You had batted your lashes at your father, insisting that the High Lady needed some help with fae etiquette and that she was seeking your help on how to be a proper lady. 

Beron scoffed at the thought of the ‘wild human harlot’ ever being considered a lady, but he couldn’t say no to your wide-doe eyes. Especially not when Eris mentioned that the friendship could give Autumn more sway in political discussions. 

Eris winnowed you both to Rhysand’s Moonstone Palace for your regular ‘meeting’, where Rhys, Feyre and Mor were waiting for you. 

Mor looks ethereal under the starry night sky. Her hair flows like liquid gold in soft waves down her back. Her dress is a deep wine red, paying homage to your home court and hugs her curves perfectly. Your eyes linger on her figure for a few moments before moving back to her face. 

Thank you, Mother.

Rhys steps forward. “Welcome back, we won’t be staying in the Court of Nightmares this time,” He explains. “We thought it was time to show you our true home.” 

Feyre smiles warmly, her eyes twinkle with anticipation. 

Rhys takes Eris’s hand and Mor takes yours, winnowing you into the sky above a sparkling city. 

Wind rushes around you as you free-fall. The stone floor of the balcony getting closer and closer until it hits your feet. You steady yourself, feeling grateful for your fae reflexes. 

Still holding Mor’s hand, she leads you to the balcony's edge. You look out at the city sprawling below you, alive and bustling. The humming sound of life below is like music in your ears.

Mor smiles widely at you. “Welcome to Velaris,” she says. “The Court of Dreams.”

[xxsquiddkiddxx]

hiiii could I request smth w John Bender where he's kinda infamous in the school. Reader and him are maybe assigned on a sculpting project together or something like that, and because of his reputation he expects her to hate him, but she's nothing but nice to him and feels for him because she sees the signs of abuse. One day he seems in an even worse mood than normal and is pretty bruised up (though trying to hide it) and after school when they walk out together she privately broaches the subject, causing him to involuntary have a breakdown/panic attack, which she comforts him through

With some romantic fluff at the end?? Idk ahhhh sorry this is so specific I feel awkward typing this all out 😭 no worries if you can't and have an amazing day/night!

A/N: Wait omg I actually love this???.?? I'll TOTALLY do this!!!!!! Idk how well it'll be cuz I haven't watched Breakfast Club since mid August... but I'll do my best. (Also ty so much for being specific! Helps me out A LOT more!)

Art Class ~ John Bender x !Artist! Reader

Pronouns for Reader: She/Her

Relationship type: Platonic to romantic

Genreal Idea: (Y/N) and John are working on an art project together, and things seem to be going smoothly. A friendship even seems to be blooming. However, one day something seems... off. And (Y/N) seems determined to figure it out.

Content Warnings: John might be out of character, accurate PTSD representation from someone with PTSD, abuse mentioned (but not seen in action), swearing. It's a fic that takes place in the 80s. What do you expect???

(No particular POV)

☆Day 1: Assignment☆

John wasn't exactly the best at art. Shop? He pretty much had that class DOWN. Art? Not so much. So he decided to bite the bullet and just get the class over with. It was only a half-year class anyway. And he needed it to graduate. And in his mind, if he could graduate... he could get the FUCK out of that house. It was a win for him.

He took his spot in the back of the classroom, sunglasses on his face, and leaned back slightly in his chair. He found himself zoning out, wrapping himself around his own head. The thing that pulls him out of his thoughts is the sound of someone clearing their throat. He lifts his sunglasses up slightly on one side, just enough to see who it was. It was a girl with (H/C) hair and (E/C) eyes. Someone he INSTANTLY recognized as (Y/N) (L/N)

He didn't know the girl personally. He just knew OF her, if that makes any sense. He had another class with her, but he couldn't tell you what class it was. His school schedule mostly just blurred together if he was being honest. But every time he'd stolen a quick glance at her or whenever she was just simply in his line of vision, she always had her nose in either a book or a sketchbook. No in between. Occasionally, she was seen doing homework, but the rest of the time, it was drawing or reading.

"Can I help you?" He asks, a little snappier than he'd intended. Before he had a chance to mutter a quick apology and try again, she speaks.

"We were assigned to do the sculpting project together?" She says, unfazed by the snappy tone. It was the first time she'd ever spoken. Or... at least the first time John had ever heard her speak. Not nessicarily what he expected, but- God that sounds so fucking weird.

"Oh," He says, feeling kinda stupid. She just sits down, setting her bag down beside her, fishing around for what he assumed was her sketchbook. He decides to speak again, hopefully making some form of small talk to make up for the snappiness of before. "(Y/N), right?" He found himself bewildered at his own behavior. He normally never found himself feeling bad about his attitude or behavior. And here he was, feeling like a douche for slightly snapping at her.

"Yes," She says. "You perfer John or Bender?" She asks, grabbing a pencil and sliding it over to him, John stopped it with his forefinger. "I hear people call you both."

"I don't care." He says simply, watching her grab her sketchbook.

"Alright, John, it is." She says. "So, were you paying attention to the teacher, or do you have any idea what we're doing for the next..." She thinks for a moment, tapping her pencil eraser to the paper. "Week or so?" John's silence speaks more than if he'd simply said that he didn't. "We're doing a sculpting project." She says.

"Ah, I see." He says, twirling the pencil in his fingers.

"So I was thinking we could possibly get a rough idea before we actually dive in, yeah?" She says, flipping through her sketchbook. John gets some glimpses of her art, mesmerized by her work. She flips to the next blank page, writing at the top "PROJECT IDEAS".

The two plan, and by the two, (Y/N) mostly talked, and John just kinda nodded and went along with it.

At the end of class, (Y/N) gave John her phone number so they could stay in contact about the project. And the two went their separate ways for the day.

☆Day 3: Even More Sketching, Some Potential Friendship Forming☆

"How the hell do you understand this?" John asks, cracking his knuckles. "I barely understand 90% of this class." The girl in front of him simply chuckles.

"I've done this for a LONG while, John." She says. Most people just called him Bender, so hearing her call him John made him feel... nice? He didn't know, feelings are weird, and that wasn't a rabbit hole he really wanted to go down today.

"I've noticed." John says as the two work. "I hardly ever see you without that little sketchbook of yours." The two continue to work before John breaks the silence between the two.

"Ya know... I don't actually hate this." He says quietly, mostly to himself. (Y/N) hums in response.

"You say sumthin?" She asks, looking up at him. John feels heat rise to his face as he clears his throat, making up something on the spot.

"I-I said that I'm surprised you don't hate me." He says smoothly, covering up his little embarrassing moment.

"Why would I do that?" She asks, her eyes going back down to the large(ish) lump of clay infront of her as she rolls up her sleeves. The two converse back and forth while they do their project.

"Hey, so I was thinking." (Y/N) says before class ends. "Since we are a tad behind, we could possibly stay after school one of these days to get some extra work in."

"That works for me." John says, hand in his pocket. "When were you thinking?"

"Would you be able to do Thursday?" She asks. John thinks for a moment.

"Yeah, I can do that." John says.

"Sweet." She says as the bell rings. She puts the stuff they were using away and grabs her bag. "See ya."

John, left slightly speechless and red faced, blinks a few times before mumbling a "Yeah, see ya."

☆~☆

John was practically counting down the hours until he'd be able to work with (Y/N) after school. The fact that he was counting the hours down both disgusted and fascinated him. It was an odd combo that he really wasn't familiar with, nor had a desire to be familiar with.

(Y/N) had been nothing but the kindest soul to him. Did it make sense to him? No. Was he gonna ruin it by saying something? ... Also no.

☆Day 6: After School Work and a Walk Home☆

(Y/N) instantly knew something was up the second she set her stuff down. The air felt thicker around John, who was clearly pissed. The two didn't really talk, as (Y/N) detected he wasn't really in that mood. However, this didn't stop her from sliding a little slip of paper towards him.

John unfurled it: "You good? You seem a lot more angry than norma." John bit a small corner of his mouth until he could taste his own blood before responding verbally.

"It's not any of your business." He responds. The girl simply sighs softly, the two going back to the project. A few bruises poke out from under John's jacket sleeve, and (Y/N)'s heart instantly aches. She knew EXACTLY what was going on.

At the end of class, (Y/N) puts stuff away before asking John: "You still down to stay after?" She asks, her voice a bit softer than normal. John simply mumbles a "Yeah, whatever" and is out of the door.

☆~☆

(Y/N) sat on a desk as she ate a granola bar, waiting for John. Sure enough, there he was. He tossed his stuff at his normal desk, not really caring if anything was damaged.

"Ya know, we can reschedule if you're not doing the best." She says, doing her best not to sound rude or condescending.

"I'm fine, (Y/N)!" John says, slightly snappier than normal. "God, will you get off my back, please?" (Y/N), taken slightly aback, simply nods her head and the two get to work.

☆~☆

The two walk out of the school in silence. John feels like an absolute dick. He shouldn't have snapped at (Y/N). He's mad at his dad, not her. He can't bring himself to apologize though.

For once, it's (Y/N) who breaks the dense silence. "John, you don't have-"

"For fucks sake, I'm FINE, woman!" He snaps, turning to her. "God take the fucking hint?! Try that!" (Y/N) blinks a few times. She takes a lot, but that wasn't something she was gonna take. Regardless of what he was currently going through.

"Listen, John. I get you're in a bad mood. And you don't have to tell me why." She says. "But it's obvious you're not-"

"I'M FINE, (Y/N)!" He says, his voice shaking with unnessicary rage. "I'm fine! Fucking PERFECT even!" His hands shake with the rage. "So PLEASE! For FUCKING FUCKS SAKE! Get OFF of my ass about this 'You're not fine' shit. I'm PERFECTLY FINE!"

"Oh, clearly." (Y/N) says, hands on her hips. "Because someone who's fine acts like this."

"Oh my fucking god." John groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you ACTUALLY braindead? Did you NOT hear me?"

"John," The girl says, trying to be as calm as she can. "I can literally SEE the brusies-"

"Oh my god, you fucking win! You fucking win." He says, practically whirling his jacket to the earth, revealing a shit ton of bruises and marks both old and new. "There, my old man whipped me to shit last night cuz I forgot to do something exactly to his liking. SATISFIED?!?" The rage in John's voice scares both (Y/N) and himself... but mostly himself.

The look that (Y/N) has on her face brings him damn near to tears. It's a look not of disgust or fake sympathy. But of actual concern, maybe even actual care. He's trying to look everywhere, BUT her face.

"John..." She whispers softly, her fingers moving to his arm, but instantly drawing back. John sighs, extending his arm out to her. Her soft fingers trace each mark softly, almost a feather light touch. "You don't deserve this."

"Well clearly, I did." He mumbles, turning his head to the side. (Y/N) drags her finger down his arm softly to his hand, where she squeezes gently.

"No, you don't." She says, looking him in the eyes. "John, I may not have known you for a super long time. But I know for a FACT that you're a good person under the tough guy exterior." John stays quiet, his eyes not leaving the girl in front of him. "You DON'T deserve this." She gestures to every mark that she could see and the ones she probably couldn't see. "And I'll be DAMNED if I listen to you act like you don't deserve the dirt under my shoes." Her other hand moves to his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly. "Last time I checked, no human being deserves this. And if you need ANYBODY, SOMEWHERE to get away for a bit, my door's WIDE open, just call me, talk to me, hell even send me a letter. I don't care. But I'm here-"

"(Y/N)..." He says softly, his fingers wrapping around the hand (Y/N) had hers in. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Of course, John." She says softly, going up on her tiptoes to lightly brush her lips to his cheek. "Contrary to belief, I do have a-"

"You missed." He says.

"I-I'm sorry?" She asks. John simply chuckles before pressing his lips against her own.

A/N: There we are! Hopefully, I did the idea justice. I loved it sm. I'm not nessicarily good at romantic fluff (I don't tend to experience romantic fluff often if ever XD) so hopefully I did it alright. I feel like I put a bit too much of myself into John during his little meltdown, as that's how I was during my first PTSD episode. I APOLOGISE FOR HOW LONG THIS TOOK FOR ME TO GET OUT THO 😭😭😭😭

[jade-green-butterfly]

Voila~!😃My fave gay fishes are back, baby!🥰🐍🤎❤️🩷💚💜🎧 I've been meaning to draw some more Synkaa as requested by my sweet sis herself, @x-elyssa-x and I finally got the chance before Halloween and the return of the kitty boop fest, but spookier!😗🐾 I really wanted to draw Kanye being flirty with Synth and hypnotizing him~😏Yush, Kanye has hypnotic powers (just like Kaa) and since he's therapist/hypnotherapist, he uses them to relax and help others during their sessions, especially Synth with his fear in me and Ely's stories. Yet...Kanye still likes to hypnotize him every now and then, for he's just as adorable when hypnotized~😚 And the song that Kanye is singing, is from a really good fanimation called The Sun's Tear (made in 2022) and titled, 'You'll Be Mine'. I made a lowered tone version specially for Kanye, and you can listen to the original song here~🎶

I am also dead chuffed of how Synth's pose came out exactly how I wanted it during Kanye's flirting (this took place after meeting and becoming friends, though for Kanye, it was love at first sight~💘😉) and them resting in bed together with their hair down~💖😍You could say...potential afterglow, hehe~🤭 Hope you all like, dear!👍🏻✨Especially you, my lovely Ely~💗🫂It feel so good to draw our cute gay little fishies once more - I just love them SOOOOO MUCH as you do~!🐍🤎❤️💚💜🎧🤗💕xoxo.

*~Reblogs are also deeply appreciated as well, so please do reblog as well as like! Thank-you kindly!~*

Kanye (c) @x-elyssa-x~💜& @jade-green-butterfly (Me~!)

Synth (c) Trolls TrollsTopia/DreamWorks Animation

[orqheuss]

Orqheus(s)' Masterlist!

🔥 - Smut, 🌸 - Fluff, 🩸 - Angst, 🎭 - Comedy, 🎀 - Hurt/Comfort, 💗 - Romantic,✨ - Platonic (💥 - gore/blood, 💀 - main character death)

All fics are cross-posted on Ao3, Tumblr, and (some) on Wattpad

If there's a particular headcanon you'd like to see, please message me! I am open to requests!

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK WITHOUT TAGGING ME.

Fandoms are listed in alphabetical order!

Any trigger warnings present are posted on each fic.

Hazbin Hotel

I do not own the characters depicted.

One-Shots

Alastor x Reader

Journeys end in lovers meeting (🩸💗/✨💥💀) - Tumblr x The battle was over and the residents of the Hazbin Hotel had won. What would have happened, though, if Alastor wasn’t able to heal himself? What would have happened if you were also on the verge of dying?

Alastor Character Study

Stamped on these lifeless things (🩸💥 💀) - Tumblr x With his final moments quickly drawing near, something approaches Alastor that has him questioning everything. (Human!Alastor meets Demon!Alastor AU)

Hogwarts Legacy

I do not own the characters depicted, nor do I condone J.K. Rowling's actions.

One-Shots

The Shadow trio (Ominis x Sebastian x MC)

May I feel said he (🔥🌸) - Tumblr x Studying in the Room of Requirement can get quite tedious, especially with NEWTS around the corner. What is one to do when you're trapped between your two bored, ravenous, and incorrigibly competitive boyfriends? (Inspired by the poem "may i feel said he" by E. E. Cummings) A Fish to Water (🎭✨) - Tumblr x Becoming an animagus is not an easy feat. As much as you love your two best friends, sometimes its more fun to play a prank and take the absolute piss out of them. How would they react if they found out your animagus form was a little bit...fishy? Seven new ways that you can eat your young (🔥) - Tumblr x Slytherin's are known for their end of the year parties. On the eve of their graduation, though, Ominis hears something that makes his blood boil with jealousy. (Inspired by the song "Eat Your Young" by Hozier) Mallowsweet Bliss (🌸🎭✨) - Tumblr x “Oh, you lovely, hopelessly naive thing. Yes, mallowsweet has a great smell, but it also has an even better taste when eaten, and an absolutely enchanting effect on the mind when you smoke it.” AKA, the three of you get incredibly stoned on your stash of mallowsweet. My darling, my sweetheart, I am in your sway (🌸💗) - Tumblr x The Founder's ball only comes around once a year, and with your graduation fast approaching, you knew two things. One, you knew absolutely nothing about ballroom dancing, and two, you were irrevocably in love with both of your best friends and wanted to go with both of them. Was there a way to kill two birds with one stone? Not yet corpses (still, we rot) (🎀✨/💗💥) - Tumblr x Tremors were wracking through the entirety of Hogwarts, and you were nowhere to be found. Little did Ominis and Sebastian know, the repository had been opened, and you were the only thing standing between the wizarding world continuing to thrive or falling to ruin at their very feet. Mingle our ashes and bury us together (🩸✨/💗) - Tumblr x After everything that had happened in your fifth year, your mind was becoming too much for you to bear on your own. After a rather dreadful conversation with yourself, you knew there was only one way to stop your personal torment. (TW! Attempted Suicide) Insatiable Gravity (🔥🌸🎭) - Tumblr x When it rains, it pours, and when your trapped in the downpour with your two best friends, the only option is the inn down the road. The bad news? There's only one room left, and in that room is only one bed.

Ominis x MC

In the pursuit of knowledge (🔥🌸) - Tumblr x When you and Ominis are alone in the Undercroft, it isn't uncommon for some secrets to come to light. After revealing that you've never been kissed, were there some sparks flying between the two of you, or was it just the firewhiskey talking? How could I fear any hurricane (🎀💗) - Tumblr x After almost severely injuring Ominis during a duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you retreat into yourself far out of the reach of your closest friend. There's only one thing Ominis can think of to do to bring you out of your turbulent mind. (Inspired by the song "Francesca" by Hozier) In any version of reality - Soulmate!AU (🌸💗) - Tumblr x Ominis was sure that he didn't have a soulmate. That is, of course, until he hears you sing one winter night in the desolate music room and is transported through the past to the first time your souls ever met. (Inspired by the song "Epic iii" by the Hadestown 2017 Original Soundtrack) Clumsy Love (🌸💗) - Tumblr x A relaxing day in the Room of Requirement takes a turn that you never expected. Not that you were complaining, though. Who doesn't love a little bit of dancing? If only your heart would stop trying to pound its way out of your chest whenever a certain blond Slytherin was near. I would know him blind (🔥💗) - Tumblr x You'd been with Ominis for some time, and as much as you loved your intimate times together, you wondered what it would be like to be in his shoes for a change. Your darling husband is more than happy to help you satiate your curiosity. Snake Charmer - Greek Mythology!AU (🌸🎭-ish) - Tumblr x Why was everyone so interested in the new girl? Ominis Gaunt was about to find out.

Ominis Gaunt and the Sallow's

Free and young and we can feel none of it (🎀✨) - Tumblr x Ominis knew that he had to leave his family home. The abuse would only get worse if he stayed. One winter night, he fled to the only place he felt safe, and into the arms of an unlikely friend.

Sebastian x MC

A duel most desirable (🔥) - Tumblr x Emotions are running high, and a friendly duel between you and your best friend, whom you're completely and entirely infatuated with, takes a very...steamy turn. Anything to make you smile (🌸💗) - Tumblr x Sebastian, remembering you lamenting about not being able to experience going to Hogwarts as a first year, decides to take you on a romantic boat ride so you could enjoy the journey from Hogsmeade like he did as an eleven year old. Too bad he forgot one crucial thing: he was terrified of the Black Lake.

Chapter Fics

The Shadow trio (Sebastian x Ominis x MC)

Life is not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis (🩸💗💥) - Ao3 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 (All fic titles in this series come from various E. E. Cummings' poems) Victor Rookwood kidnapped you, in broad daylight, on the streets of Hogsmeade, and Sebastian is willing to do anything to get you back. Will he and Ominis be able to find you before it's too late? (TW! Graphic depictions of torture)

For whatever we lose (like a you, or a me) (🩸💗💥) - Tumblr x The Scriptorium called your name, and who were you to ignore its song? At least, that's what you told yourself as Sebastian pushed you and Ominis deeper and deeper into the mausoleum. (Pre Parenthesis!Universe)

Awake, chaos: we have napped (🩸🎀💗💥) - Ao3 x After everything that happened to you that night in the poacher camp, it was only normal for you to have nightmares. After a particularly rough one, will your partners be able to pick up the pieces? (Post Parenthesis!Universe) (TW! mentions of attempted rape/non-con)

I like my body when it is with your body (🔥🌸💗) - Tumblr x Sebastian believes that he doesn't deserve to be happy after everything he's done. His partners don't agree, and are hellbent on proving him wrong the best, and most effective, way they know how. (Post Parenthesis!Universe)

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) (🔥🌸💗) - Tumblr 1 2 3 The finale of "Life is not a paragraph, and death, I think, is no parenthesis." It is a beautiful day to get married, and you couldn't ask for better partners. (Post Parenthesis!Universe)

The sun does not weep for Icarus (🩸✨/💗💥💀) - Tumblr 1 2 3 4 The arrival of the Daily Prophet brings the news of Sebastian Sallow's fate after the events of his fifth year. Ominis and his new friend can't help but feel guilty for their decisions. (TW! Child abuse, suicide)

Even the iron still fears the rot (🩸💗💥) - Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 It was supposed to be a normal trip to Hogsmeade. But, when Sebastian and Ominis are kidnapped by poachers determined to seek revenge against the one who killed their fearless leader, will you be able to save them in time? (TW! Graphic depictions of torture)

Ominis x MC

How to ask for help - 5+1 Times (🌸💗) - Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 The five times you helped Ominis, and the one time he helped you.

Headcanons

Sebastian x MC

Sebastian Sallow headcanons

Misc

HL boys as things my students have said - Part 2 Sebastian and Ominis wand headcanons

[wizardfrog69]

Hey azrael Il your works! can I request DOA x reader wearing this? https://pin.it/3WVH3rD

So i hope it's the right one.

If it's not then I'm sorry, I'll rewrite it.

'•.¸♡ Princess ♡¸.•'

Reader wearing the dress in the picture above. (Gn reader)

Fluff

Masterlist

Enjoy!

Feat. Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Fyodor was working as always until he heard a knock on his door. 'Come in,' he called out, his eyes not leaving the documents in front of him. The sound of the door creaking filled the air as you walked in.

'Darling, I know you are working, but I thought we could go for a picnic. The weather is so lovely today.' You smiled. Fyodor turned to look at you, and his eyes travelled to your dress. He stood up and walked over to you. 'That dress looks beautiful on you Мед (med)' He compliment, his eyes turning into a soft and loving look as he admired your dress.

Nikolai Gogol

There was a knock on your front door. You went to open the door, to your surprise there stood Nikolai, in one hand he held some cookies while in his other hand he held a forget-me-not. It was a small flower which put in your hair upon seeing you. His lovesick smile warming your heart as you kissed him softly on the lips.

You welcomed him in, taking his gift in your hand.

'You look beautiful today.' He compliments while his gaze is fixated on the dress. His smile never left his face. He pulled you onto his lap the first chance he got, and his hands explored the dress.

Sigma

Sigma was feeling stressed lately, so you decided to visit him for a short break. When you walked into the casino, you looked around for a bit until you saw him at a poker table dealing cards. You stood still for a second, looking at his direction. Before you could catch his eyes, you began to move to sit down somewhere while you waited. Unbeknownst to you, Sigma looked up and saw you. He smiled to himself as we saw the beautiful dress flow with your every move. He took a note of which direction you headed.

After the poker game ended, he stood up and gracefully waltzed up to you, hugging your waist from behind. 'You look beautiful, my angel.' He kissed the top of your hand as he smiled at you, his eyes filled with love and admiration.

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

This time it's green cuz of the photo.

Sorry if they are all ooc.

Also I found a new favourite song >:)

I am oddly inspired to draw and so I drew 3 ppl in bikinis, one of them being a fish.

Have a wonderful day/night and stay hydrated while listening to your favourite music.

-love, Az

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 34

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

The night ended more lighthearted. Dr. Miller and I took advantage of the frozen lake and the scenery again, skating around and taking pictures of the winter wonderland. We had a few drinks, went out for dinner, and spent most of the night thereafter in the loft. If I had it my way, I wouldn’t have left that little nook in the woods.

“We should rent this place again in the summer,” I said to him. “I bet it’s nice to kayak around.. maybe go fishing.. hike the trails. Oh, and I saw a new, little brewery is supposed to be having its grand opening in May nearby.”

Dr. Miller smiled. “I can book it now for July.”

I loved thinkin about the future, even if it was just a matter of months. For a second I daydreamed images of a tan Dr. Miller by my side, shirtless and glistening in the sun. It made me smirk.

Bidding a temporary farewell to the lakeside cabin was bittersweet, though Dr. Miller already put in a request for the summer before we took off for home.

“The good news is we have another getaway at my sister’s wedding next weekend,” Dr. Miller explained as we hit the highway. “Can you get off work for the rehearsal dinner on Friday? I may cancel Thursday’s class so we can hit the road when you get out of work on Thursday. It’s a pretty good haul up to Vermont.”

I nodded, “Of course. I can’t wait.”

When Tuesday’s class rolled around I decided to confront Trevor on the walk out. His constant stares were starting to bug me and he hadn’t spoken a word to me since the day I’d left Dr. Stevenson’s class to give a sneaky kiss to Dr. Miller in his office. A part of me wanted to ask him what he thought he knew, but I also didn’t want to accidentally rat myself out - or Dr. Miller.

Otherwise, I was very much into the class discussion, and loved how Dr. Miller smiled a certain way when he called on me to answer a question. I loved his class. On a side note, there was a certain level of sneaky amusement I felt from having this secret life with him. No one in the class had even the slightest indication that we lived together, or that we just celebrated Valentine's Day shacked up in a remote, lakeside cabin. There was a part of me that got off on our secret.

“So,” Dr. Miller clapped his hands together. “I'm going to post something for you to read and look over. You'll be able to even discuss points online if you'd like, but Thursday's class will not meet in person. My sister is getting married out of state and I'll be traveling to Vermont on Thursday in preparation for that.”

“Congratulations!” Someone's voice echoed off the walls, making a few others laugh. “To your sister,” the person added, drawing more laughter.

“Thank you,” Dr. Miller responded with a chuckle. “If there are no further questions -”

“Class dismissed,” the group said in unison.

I smiled to myself and stuffed my notebook into my bag. It was always odd to me as I left the classroom. Dr. Miller and I were so affectionate and borderline clingy everywhere else. That's the only part I hated - not being able to be ourselves during that short time frame we had together on campus.

My phone went off and I glanced down, smiling when I saw it was him. 

See you at home.

I glanced toward him and our eyes briefly met as he began packing up his black bag.

And then, as I ducked out into the hallway, Trevor leaned over getting a drink of water. He was one of the only people I ever saw use the water fountain in the building.

I went to call out to him but then decided against it. Why was I about to create a conflict out of nothing? Plus, I reminded myself, he had walked with me to class when I didn't want to walk alone.

I passed by, glancing over at him. Just as he finished getting a drink our eyes met for a brief moment. I looked away and kept walking, using the stairs to get up to the main floor.

Behind me, I heard Trevor clear his throat and then his feet peppered up the stairwell behind me. I yanked open the door to enter the lobby and Trevor’s footsteps came faster.

“Could you hold that, please?” His nasally voice called out.

I sighed to myself but turned around with a half-smile and a nod.

“Thank you.” He hurried to reach for the door and held it so I could go ahead first.

“No problem.” I continued walking and Trevor cleared his throat again as he scurried up beside me.

“Have any plans for the long weekend?” He asked, gripping the straps of his backpack as we wandered toward the main doors.

“Hmm.. I might go visit my parents,” I lied, “But nothing else. You?”

He shrugged. “I may go skiing.”

So am I, I thought, even though I didn't know how. Carol’s wedding. “You ski?”

“Doesn't everyone in the Catskills area?” He snorted a laugh at himself and I smirked.

“Everyone but me.” I smiled back. “I don't know how.”

“I've been skiing since I've been five.”

“Cool.”

“I could always give you lessons. I used to give lessons before I started working for UPS.”

“I didn't know you worked for UPS.”

“For now.” He grinned and followed me out into the parking lot.

I glanced over at him as he continued to trail me out into the parking lot. I felt like he was velcroed to me. He was so close.

“Well, I'll see ya later Trevor.” I reached for the handle on my car as I approached and he cleared his throat again.

What is his deal? I wanted to blurt it out, but I wasn’t the type to be super direct like that. He wasn’t doing anything wrong - just being awkward and slightly annoying.

Trevor raised a hand to wave, almost robotically, as I pulled out of the parking space and edged my way down the rows of cars to exit the campus parking lot. When I was close to a half-a-football field away, I caught a glimpse of him waving his hands wildly in my direction. I wasn’t even sure if he was trying to flag me down, or was summoning someone else. And so, I kept driving. I didn’t see Dr. Miller exit the building.

“What’s the matter?” Dr. Miller approached Trevor when he heard the commotion.

Trevor reached into the pocket of his jacket and stared down at the screen of a cell phone. He eyed the screen, reading a notification as it flashed across.

YOUR STOWE, VT LIFT TICKETS ARE NOW AVAILABLE TO PUT INTO I-WALLET. CLICK THE BANNER TO CONFIRM.

Dr. Miller’s eyes landed on the familiar phone cover. He had the urge to yank it from Trevor’s hand and demand why he had (Y/N)’s phone, but he knew he had to restrain himself.

“Who’s the phone belong to?” Dr. Miller asked, knowing damn well who it belonged to.

“I-I..” Trevor looked down at it again and spoke to himself. “She said she couldn’t ski.” He scratched his head and continued to stare at the screen.

“Trevor.” Dr. Miller closed the gap between the two of them. “Why do you have that phone?”

“One of my friends from class dropped it,” he claimed, “She just drove off. I was trying to flag her down.” Trevor slipped the phone back into his pocket and Dr. Miller extended his hand.

“I’ll turn it in to campus police.”

He kept the phone in his coat. “I can do that.”

“I insist.” Dr. Miller nodded and kept his palm facing up a few inches in front of Trevor. “I’m sticking around here anyway to do a few things.”

Trevor stared up at him, and then looked back down to his hand. He didn’t immediately hand over the phone. “Where did you say your sister’s wedding was?”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

[lace-sutures]

☆Welcome to Fish City's greenhouse!☆

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

☆ you can call me cinema/cinna/cin or just anything you like! i am 15!! in fact a minor (she/her only please) pronouns page <-

☆ i work as a sort of botanist for FishCity! I take care of the marine plants here (and also am tasked the burden of dealing with tomi's problematic little clones.. they keep multiplying!!!!) i am but a wee sea bunny doing my part to ensure FishCity's habitability!

☆ i really like (rot)tmnt! specifically donnie (in every iteration..smitten swoon)

☆ i can and will draw selfship with my wife r!donnie so if you dont want to see that just block the tag #selfship

☆ i like yapping!!! interact with me i swear i dont bite (,,¬﹏¬,,)

☆ i am a huge vocaloid/jpop/pjsk nerd so um yeah!!!!

☆ art requests are closed! if you send any i WILL get you!/threat

please read about my boundaries before sending any requests if open. (under the cut)

☆ 700 DTIYS (#cin3maa dtiys)

☆ donnie with other purple characters

☆ #tmnc (teenage mutant ninja cats) <- there will be more!!!

☆ #tmnt cin (my turtlesona or self insert stuff)

mooties!!! (more tba<3)

#corrupted file 📄: @urplepurplegurgleturgle

#ocean documentary 🪸: @atomic-rattz

#alien sighting 🛸: @reddbug27

#sweet n sour 🍋: @hahawasabi

☆ main tags:

#rolling 🎥 (my art)

#backstage 🎭 (my refs)

#previews 🎞️ (ask replies)

#talking during the movie {yapping)

#5 stars 🌟 (reblogs)

playlist ˚₊ · »-♡→

boundaries and other stuff! ⇩(PLEASE READ)

-> requests

i probably wont draw your oc

i wont do canon x YN requests unless i specify otherwise - i will deny/ignore you if you request it anyway. i understand you like the characters (i really do) but i just dont want to draw this kind of content as of now and i ask that you respect that.

...please dont beg or be pushy/send multiple asks with your request

if i havent responded to your request, i probably just dont want to do it or i do and am getting to it when i feel motivated

id prefer requests be primarily (rot)tmnt but if you want to request something related to any of my OTHER interests i wont mind（• ∇ ＜)

i am very obviously not going to be doing nsfw.

my commissions arent set up at the moment

the way that i personally do requests is that i get to them when i get to them. im most likely not ignoring you!!! i work at my own pace.

-> art usage

feel free to use my art as a pfp/banner etc (credit appreciated<3)

i dont mind if you repost as long as you credit me

do not edit/modify my art

do not use my art in edits

um.. i dont think this should be an issue but dont sell my art?

you can draw any of my designs but id prefer you didnt claim them as your own haha..please @ me if you do use anything id love to see it <3

-> boundaries

t/cest in/cest & proshippers fuck off. seriously, block me. this includes casey jr x turtles

^I do not count april but i probably wont draw any april x turtles anyway (he's married to me)

vivziepop (hazbin/helluva etc) generally makes me uncomfortable but i wont block you if you enjoy her works or post about them.

i do not support ai art. if you support it or are neutral please block me. if you want to start making real art but dont know where to begin or need free resources, check out this post. (or this resource post)

if we're not close be mindful of what you send in my ask box lol. i am a minor. it makes me uncomfortable if youre sending me suggestive images or something like that (especially if i dont know you very well)

DO NOT VENT IN MY ASK BOX. i dont really know how to respond.. im witewawwy just a girl im not your thewapist im sowwy💔💔

i frequently call rise donnie my wife/bf & draw selfship (sometimes) so if that bothers you im sorry ;w; when i do draw selfship i try to tag it properly so it can be filtered !!!

im still an inexperienced artist, so i probably wont be able to give very good advice if you ask (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

feel free to tag me!

dms are open

-> other interests!

project sekai (if you want to play just ask for my id<3 im almost always up to it! i main jp but i do have en.)

vocaloid/utau/synthv & jpop

^ i am kakizaki yutas #1 fan !!!! listen to his music right now

hoyoverse (genshin, star rail, zzz, hi3)

little nightmares

skullgirls

YTTD

osomatsu san

metal family

bee and puppycat

jshk/tbhk

tadc

psych

ddlc

ptp

mitm

breaking bad

heathers the musical

...and more but this list is already getting long

stuff in here is subject to change, thanks for reading!!! :3 like actually thank you so much!!! i really appreciate it