#And I really like the contrast between all the red and orange and his eyes

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. love island’s heart rate challenge.

about. you’re the bombshell katsuki tells her not to worry about. i just wanted to hop on the love island!bakugou trend because i finally managed to catch up and watch some.

warnings. suggestive. minors & ageless blogs do not interact. implied cheating but not really bc it’s love island, british slang lol, lap dances, making out, saucy outfits & fem!reader.

the girl bakugou couples up with has been worried about you from the moment you first stepped into the villa.

and rightly so.

you’ve had almost every boy charmed since your arrival. kirishima made you lunch on your first day, todoroki and sero eagerly followed you for a chat by the pool to express their interest in you at the party hosted in your honour on night one. but you, you had your sights set on katsuki bakugou.

as a bombshell, you’d been given the power to choose any guy you wanted to take on a first date to the sandy shores of Majorca — with crystal clear waters, fresh fruits and champagne as your wingmen. and while you had initially picked bakugou for his sharp jaw line, mysterious wine red eyes and obviously the rest of his good looks (those abs looked like they were taken straight from a magazine) you were pleasantly surprised by how warm he was. his eye contact was strong, the raspy lilt to his voice was both alluring and calming and he seemed genuinely interested in you as a person and not because you were his type down on paper (though that was a bonus).

you laugh and smile about where you grew up, your favourite things and your red flags and by the end of the date — bakugou is feeding you fruit and helping you stand with a warm hand wrapped around your wrist. “s’only been a few days so i’m not completely closed off,” he mumbles a little too fast. “i’m open to getting to know you.”

you want to get to know him too.

you don’t tell the girls this when they crowd around you with blinged out bikinis and coconut scented sunscreen to ask you how your date went. you’d rather keep your cards close to your chest, but you tell them how nice bakugou is, how sweet he is. some of the girls can instantly tell how much he’s into you. bakugou’s match doesn’t say much.

“obviously, i don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” you expressed politely to the girls, your eyes doe eyed and bright, voice level and sweet. “i’ve come in at a difficult point, so i’ll just get to know everyone and let the boys know that the ball is in their court.” you don’t care if it makes you seem fake, but you don’t have any plans on leaving the island without bakugou on your arm.

the rest of the week is spent hopping between the boys, wearing all of your most sizzling swimsuits and pyjama sets — knowing that katsuki’s eyes are following you everywhere around the villa. he makes you iced coffees and scrambled egg with toast at breakfast times. he likes you and you like him and it’s causing problems with the girl the blonde is coupled up with.

on the fourth day, you get a text whilst in the pool — schmoozing with bakugou’s rival, deku. you announce it while he smooches up your ankle, making bakugou see flashes of red “islanders, it’s time to see how much of your heart truly belongs to the person you’ve coupled up with. tonight we’ll test that #heartratechallenge #peepthepulse!”

it’s then that you know exactly what to do. exactly how to get your man.

the producers supply you with a cute little number, one that you specifically request in bakugou’s favourite colour — the burnt orange lace of your corset and tiny shorts contrasting perfectly against your skin, accompanied by thigh high socks that squeeze around the plush flesh. your new best friend in the villa helps you smoke out your eyelids and touch up your makeup for the perfect look while she tells you that you look good enough to eat.

and you are. when it’s your turn to get those hearts racing — you stand before the boys at the fire pit who drink you in like a tall glass of water on simmering hot day and eat up your curves highlighted in your skimpy little outfit like men starved. you start with sero and make your way down the line, taking his finger into your mouth before kissing up his arm and right to his ear once you’re in his lap. todoroki digs his thumbs into your waist when you throw it back on him, kirishima let’s out a low whistle when you give him extra special treatment and a kiss on the neck (courtesy of being bakugou’s best friend), you let kaminari feel up and down your curves and nibble on your ear.

bakugou is rigid in his place by the time you reach his rival izuku — and you put on an extra show, pulling the man to a stand and grinding on him like nobody’s business. the boys holler and whoop and scream, practically sweating at the show you put on for them.

when you reach the blonde, you crawl into his lap tantalisingly slow, his rough hands instinctively coming up to cup your thighs — smooth over the skin as katsuki leans back in his seat and manspreads to make room for you.

“hi handsome,” you greet him with an innocent purr, running your hands up to the back of his neck to toy with his baby hairs.

you’re so close to him that he can feel your heat spread through his soul and burn him from the inside out — replacing any memory of the girl that he’s coupled up with. “hi gorgeous, what took ya so long?”

“i wanted to save the best for last.”

bakugou’s cheeks flood with a red that rivals his eyes when you grind down into him, calculatedly placing your lips inches away from his thumping pulse point. you grab at his hair and he grabs at you, practically groping one another as you ghost over his lips, tease him with the prospect of a kiss. he can hear his own heart thundering through his ears, the blood rushing to his head (and between his legs) making him too dizzy to even think. saliva pools in bakugou’s mouth as you make a mess of him without even trying, rolling yourself in his lap, shaking your ass against him, whispering filthy shit into his ear even though the mics can pick it up.

to wrap it up, when you slide off of katsuki, you pretend to drop something — standing up sensually to give him a little treat. his eyes clearly glued to your cute behind.

by the time your turn is over, katsuki knows that he’s done for. he wants you, and the way your vanilla perfume lingers on his sun licked skin. he’s in a daze for the rest of the game and doesn’t even notice the way his girl’s face twists at the sight of your lipstick prints all over him.

neither of you can hide your faces when deku begrudgingly announces “the girl that raised bakugou’s heart rate the most was….” and your name follows suit. you offer up your most winning smile, giving the blonde those “fuck me eyes.” that really get him going from across the fire pit and he can’t help but smirk back.

the boys clap for him but the girl he’s coupled up with gives you a look that could kill.

before it all comes to head, katsuki approaches you and your best friend by the bar — hands tucked into his lose cargo pants, silver dog tags around his neck glinting around his thick neck as he juts his head in the direction of the sunbed’s.

“can i pull you for a quick chat?” he grunts and you grin, offering him your hand despite the stares from the other islanders. you want katsuki bad, so you’ll be as controversial as you want — no matter who’s coupled up with who. “obviously, i like you, a lot.” he starts, helping you sit down, hand around your wrist and eyes full of admiration.

since you’ve come into the villa all he can think about is you, your laugh and your smile. to say his head was turned would be an understatement. katsuki bakugou is crushing hard on you.

“i think you can tell, ‘specially from how that challenge went.” it’s hard for him to open up like this and admit it to you, but your connection goes beyond your beauty and bakugou feels himself gravitating towards you more than his old match. he doesn’t want to pass this up, maybe lose you to izuku. “i said i was open, but i think… if you picked me. i’d be completely closed off for you. i want you like that. if you’d want me too.”

he fiddles with your hands nervously as you sit opposite him, all dolled up with shiny eyes and glossy lips under the evening sky. you think katsuki couldn’t get any cuter which only solidifies your choice.

“i’ve only ever wanted you since i came here, katsuki. i feel like we get each other,” inching forward until you’re a breath’s width apart, you tenderly brush a blonde lock away from his pretty face. “i wanna be yours just as much as you wanna be mine.” you add, quietly.

and you don’t care if your next move makes you shady or betrays anyone’s trust — but you came into the villa looking for love and you think you’ve genuinely found it within katsuki. so you lean forward, pressing your lips gently against his and squeak in surprise when bakugou reciprocates almost instantaneously. he cups the back of your head, deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue past the boundaries of your soft lips to tangle with your own.

“your lip gloss tastes like shit.” bakugou pulls away with a grumble, but his face breaks out into a wide and accomplished grin. “c’mere, kiss me again.”

“m’kay,” you tilt your head towards him, your own expression light with laughter, and place your hand over the one that cups your cheek. “i like kissing you.”

“i like kissing you too.”

smiling again, you squish bakugou’s cheeks. “so does this mean you’re picking me at the next re-coupling?”

katsuki nods dumbly, wanting nothing more to pull you into his lap. he knows they’ll be drama tonight, dealing with the last girl, his sleeping arrangements and yours — but he doesn’t care. he just wants to share this moment with you.

“i’ll pick you a thousand times over. at this re-coupling and every single fuckin’ one after.” katsuki reaffirms, knowing that he’s absolutely fucked up and in love.

and that’s enough for you to kiss him all over again.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou thirst #bakugou smut #bakugou imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo thirst #bakugo smut #bakugo drabble #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha x you #bnha thirst #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha thirst #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

[lloromanic0]

drunk sex with bill or tom i don’t mind 😆 (if ur comfortable)

Hii thank you so much for the request as always I hope you like it! <3

!Smut MDNI!

Content: alcohol consumption (obviously),regular smut descriptions.

Drunk sex with Bill

Bill had been telling you how much he wanted to go to this new bar,he sat down next to you showing you some pictures of it, lights were almost inexistent only some red and blue lamps here and there, on the other side of the building there were some private rooms with black leather couches and small tables,two dance floors and a common drinking area which appeared to be the only one with decent lighting.

“I don’t know Bill…”

“Oh cmon y/n it will be fun, I can’t remember the last time we went out on our own.”

“I mean you’re right..”

“See! I swear if you’re not having fun we’ll go home right away.”

“Okay okay fine.”

Bill jumped from the couch in excitement, leaning down to give a really tight hug and kiss you all over your face. You rolled your eyes playfully at him as he walked out of the room smiling at you. Bill loved matching his outfits with you whenever you guys went out and today was no exception, you decided to keep it more on the casual side with some low rise flared dark grey jeans, a black top and a leather jacket each one of you individually picked your favorite accessories.

After a 20 minute drive you arrived at the bar, Bill held your hand as you walked in the front door making your way through the crowd.

“This is actually kinda nice.” You shrugged.

“See I told you! Do you want something do drink?”

“Some caramel licor would be nice to start with.”

“Okay my love, find a table and I’ll be right back.” Replied Bill as he walked to the bar.

You found a table to sit at, burying yourself in the dark red sofa waiting for your boyfriend to come back.

“Here you go!” He extended his hand to you giving you the drink. You sat up and thanked him. Bill got himself a fresh Margarita, you tried each other’s drinks before finishing the whole thing. For the next hour Bill was practically glued to the bar counter, a few mimosas,mojitos & martinis between each song the Dj played. Now you were most definitely having fun, you didn’t even notice Bill disappearing in the middle of your dance, just coming back to surprise you with more drinks.

“You need to try this Tequila Sunrise!” Exclaimed Bill. You took a sip of the cold beverage the orange flavor and the strong alcohol taste melting on your mouth as your body temperature kept rising and your head felling fuzzier. You placed down your drink and grabbed Bills hand so you could whisper in his ear.

“How about we go into one of those private rooms you told me about.” He looked away from you shyly,his face was completely red, you weren’t sure if it was due to the embarrassment or because he was most definitely drunk. You grabbed his hand guiding him to the other side of the building, his flimsy steps following behind you, you asked for a key at the reception desk and looked back at him, Bill could never hide that he was drunk his body language was all you needed to observe, the way he couldn’t maintain eye contact with you and his body felling both light and hot.

You pulled him inside the room closing the door behind him, there was a large black couch,a short table,a small cabinet with water bottles and a TV with speakers. The lights were low and warm,which made a lovely contrast with the dark red carpet that covered the whole floor. You pushed Bill on the couch getting on top of him right after, he placed his hands on your waist moving them up and down your sides as you lowered yourself onto him. You kissed his neck hungrily, bitting it a few times making Bill hiss and moan in pain & pleasure. The music from the dance floor echoed through your ears as you kept exploring Bill’s neck with your mouth. You took off your jacket throwing it in the floor along with your shirt, his hands reached up to cup your breasts making you smile as he squeezed them together.

“You’re so beautiful babe.” Said Bill with a soft voice his eyes half opened, he sat up unclipping your bra.

“You have cute tits.” He spoke, pinching one of your niples, you slightly jump at the light pain he inflicted on you, his mouth got close to your breast sucking on your left nipple while squeezing the right one, you softly moan as he kept licking and sucking your tits. He pulled away from them with a pop sound.

“Take those off for me.” He muttered softly,playing with the waist of your pants, you got up taking them off slowly, putting on a show for him as his outline of his hard cock made his pants look almost see through.

“Fuck baby you’re such a tease.” He murmured getting up from the couch, his tall figure approaching yours. He grabbed your hand guiding it to his aching boner, you palmed him through his pants making him throw his head back.

“Please Y/N let me fuck you, I need it.”

He couldn’t even look in your eyes, his mind felt fuzzy and his body boiling the only thing he knew is that he needed to fuck you more than anything.

You bend over the couch looking back at him, swaying your hips seductively in a way to invite him. He came closer to you slapping your ass somewhat hard but not enough to actually hurt you, he would never do that. He pulled down his pants along with his underwear his cock sprung out lightly hitting his lower stomach, you bite your lip at the sight. Bill placed his tip over your entrance, stroking it up and out teasing you a little more rubbing circles on your clit,making your legs tremble at the sensation. He grabbed you hips forcefully, his cock now slowly entering your warm hole,you moan lowly at the contact adjusting to his size every time he inserted an inch in you. The rush of the alcohol and horniness began to take over your body as Bill thrusted into you.

“Fuck…you’re so tight oh my god you’re milking me…”

You moaned in response fucking your hips on his cock matching his pace.

“You’re enjoying this so much baby so eager..”

Bill wasn’t that much of a talker during sex, just the regular stuff, asking if you were fine or if you were enjoying it, but today due to his reaction to alcohol he wouldn’t keep quiet for a second.

“Bill- you’re talking to much just fuck me please~”

“Aren’t you desperate babe?” He asked slapping his hips hard on you.

“Fuck! aaahhh-“ you exclaimed loudly.

“Is that what you want to be fucked hard by me?” He questioned fucking you harder with each thrust.

“Answer me!” He demanded.

“YES! Bill yes fuck me hard just like that mmhhmm~” the pace he was using to penetrate you making hard to make up any sentences.

“That’s a good girl.” He grunted loudly.

Ramming his cock harshly in your pussy as you moaned and screamed in ecstasy and pleasure, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix as your pussy clenched around him making him exhale loudly.

“Gonna cum for me pretty girl?”

“Y-yes Bill mmhmm fuck-“

“Cum for me baby, cum all over my cock.”

His thrusts became deeper hitting your g spot, his hand moved in front of you to rub circles on your clit, the double stimulation making you shake and moan loud, one last thrust was all you needed to cum undone on Bill’s cock.

“Good job baby, just take it a little longer for me yeah?”

“Y-yes Bill.” You muttered.

His movements became sloppier as his orgasm approached, in a minute you felt your cunt getting filled with his warm semen as he fucked it back into you slowly. He stayed inside you for a few seconds before finally pulling out, making you collapse on the couch.

He opened a water bottle from the cabinet offering it to you, you thanked him taking the bottle to your lips,the cold liquid refreshing your dry mouth. He got one for himself and sat down next to you, you placed your head over his thigh as he stoked your hair with his fingers.

“You did have a good time after all.” Said Bill in a playful tone.

“I guess…” you smiled back at him.

Even if the moment was enjoyable for now and none of you got sick from the alcohol exaggeration you both knew that the next morning headache and dehydration would be unbearable, but for now you just enjoyed the warm of each other’s bodies.

————————————————————————

Note: idk if you think this is long💀 I think I get carried away with descriptions sometimes anyways I hope you liked it💕

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel bill kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x you #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x female reader #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Twenty-Seven)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content/CW: Warning for description of needles/syringes. Get ready for angst yall. Word count: 5109

‘Gabriel?’

Mig and Miguel spoke it at nearly the same time, their voices betraying different levels of panic. The two men were utterly fixated on the screen before them, watching that little figure in the orange jacket moving through the thicket towards their nest.

‘Gabriel…’ Mig breathed. His eyes were flashing with a million feelings, but one stood out above the rest: fear.

You, in contrast, were left totally on the dark on the sudden change. You were desperately jumping to try and see over Miguel’s giant abdomen. ‘Mig—Mig! Babe, what is it?’ you called. The two of them ignored you, too shocked to even realize anyone else was in the room.

As you took a step back to breathe you noticed Mig’s abdomen was bristled and shaking, a clear sign he was extremely upset. You felt your heart starting to race faster.

‘Mig, you—’

‘Your Gabriel is still alive?!’ Miguel suddenly snapped, his tone quickly turning aggressive as he turned on the larger, mortified-looking man. Mig raised his hands as if in surrender to some higher power.

‘He—he is’ he murmured back, his voice cracking as he spoke. ‘I… I thought, he was… He was… ahh…’

You realized quite quickly Mig wasn’t in a good headspace right now, and you finally barged your way forward to stand between the two variants.

‘Hey! Hey, Mig, it’s okay—’

‘YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?!’

You spun around only to see Miguel visibly shaking, and you realized that both men had been deeply impacted by this revelation. As Miguel began to pace Mig collapsed, his legs folding in as he wrapped his arms around his upper torso for comfort. You went straight to Mig as Miguel continued hissing under his breath.

‘Miggy?’ you whispered, gently stroking his arms. You could feel just how tense he was, like he’d seen a ghost. His eyes were glassy and hazy, darting about the room as his lips mumbled silent words.

‘Miggy? Sweetheart? He—’ You paused and turned to Miguel again. ‘Miguel, who is this guy? Is he a danger?’ you blurted.

Miguel turned on you with those cold, red eyes, finally drawn to your voice. At first, you assumed he was just angry, but as he drew nearer you saw the truth. The single blue light from above illuminated the rigid sheen of fear over his eyes, highlighting the shadows in his knotted brows.

He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

‘He… Gabriel, is—’

‘He’s my brother.’

Mig’s words were just barely muffled by his hands, but they hung heavily in the air. You slowly turned your eyes away from Miguel and back to the trembling ball of navy red fluff, his shoulders hunched and strained as he cradled his own head.

‘Miggy?’ you whispered. You heard him make a sound like he was being strangled. ‘He… He’s my brother’ he repeated, his voice cracking. You caught just a glimpse of his eyes then, and your stomach tightened; they were pure red, bloodshot from salty tears filling them and falling into his palms.

‘He’s my brother’ he croaked again.

‘He— Miggy’ you whispered again, your voice dipping as you moved in to hold him. Mig had never mentioned his family, or really anything about his past life beyond the death of Dana, so the sudden emergence of a brother was a lot to take in. You’d been certain Mig was simply alone, but now--

‘He doesn’t know what happened to you, does he?’ Miguel snapped, his voice echoing around the office. You spun back around and glared him down as he spoke.

‘He doesn’t know, does he?’ Miguel repeated, his voice growing louder. Did he sound almost, betrayed? But why?

‘Miguel, don’t yell at him—’

‘Does he know?!’

‘Miguel--!’

‘DOES HE KNOW—’

‘He- When, Dana died, the agreement was that I left’ Mig stammered. His thick, clawed hands were shaking with guilt. ‘I couldn’t- after all I’d done, I couldn’t… I couldn’t, bear to tell him that I killed her, that I killed—’

‘Hey, hey, Miggy, it's okay’ you insisted, immediately turning your back on Miguel’s anger so you could comfort Mig. You crawled closer, running your fingers through his thick hair as his eyes darted around in a panic.

‘I… I couldn’t stand him seeing what I became’ he croaked. ‘If… If Dana, tried to kill me, he… What if I—’ he paused and his face contorted, his brows knotting tight as if suppressing something painful. ‘What if I- what if I killed him too? What if I had to kill him too? I’d rather die, arañita, I couldn’t, I couldn’t—’

‘Shh, shh.’ You repeated those gentle sounds as you nestled against his forehead, struggling to balance the sudden chaos occurring. ‘Shh….’

Miguel looked away and began pacing, his eyes still fixed on the monitors.

‘He… Someone has to go see him’ Miguel blurted. ‘He’s going to get hurt if he goes near your nest, or- he’s going to know something is up! We can’t just leave him out there!’

‘W-Why is he even here?!’ Mig blurted back, moving between fear and confusion at speeds his brain was struggling to keep up with.

‘Does it matter?!’ Miguel snapped.

At this point, while you were primarily focused on keeping Mig comforted and stable, Miguel’s anger was starting to spark a different, nagging concern in your mind. Miguel clearly wasn’t acting with reason. You’d seen the way he acted on emotion; you’d seen him when calm, when detached, and you’d seen him when something hit too close to home. This was the latter.

‘Miguel, why is this your problem at all?’ you called back, trying your best not to yell. ‘YOU set the rule that Mig isolate, and it’s his brother, why are you so mad about how he handled it?’

Your question was met with silence. Miguel had turned to face away from you, so you couldn’t get a reading on his expression or his thoughts, but when he yelled for Lyla you did notice something: His voice cracked. His voice broke. Your eyes slowly narrowed.

That wasn’t anger, that was…. Jealousy.

‘LYLA! I want an explanation, now!’

‘Alright, alright. I think I found what’s going on boss’ Lyla said, her voice filling the messy cacophony of pants, sobs and whimpers that occupied the otherwise tense silence. ‘Looks like, from his web history… Hmm…’

Lyla paused and gently pursed her lips, pouting curiously at her own phone. ‘Mm.. Hey uh, big fluffy boy, do you remember, by chance, accidentally eating someone in front of some hikers?’

Mig sniffed and slowly raised his head. He was panting as he tried to recall anything of the sort. ‘Ah- what? No! I-I’ve never eaten a human being before, it—’

‘We- had sex, accidentally, in front of some hikers’ you said, gently and shamefully cutting Mig off before he could continue. The slow, dawning realization on his face was a perfect contrast to the look of abject disgust on Miguel’s.

‘You… Ay Dios Mio, these two’ Miguel hissed to himself. You stepped up to try and explain.

‘NO, it- we were in heat, we didn’t realize they were there, they found us and—’

‘Thought you were being eaten?’ Lyla interrupted, casually waving her phone in your face. Again, you nodded shamefully.

‘Y-Yes, probably… maybe, it—yes. Yes.’

‘Okay. Well, that solves it then. Your brother Gabriel watched a podcast a few days ago, some tiny nobody show about cryptid sightings, which did an episode with two hikers who claimed to have seen a giant spider hybrid eating someone in the woods. It’s only got like… what, 200 views? So he’s clearly searching for this specific topic. He’s also been googling… ah, Nueva York cryptid sightings, giant spider cryptid, man spider cryptid, Alchemax disaster, Alchemax coverup… This is all pretty damning. Let’s hope Gabriel never kills anyone or his search history is gonna be a dead giveaway’ she said, ending with a soft, snide comment to try and ease the tension.

It didn’t help.

‘Ay chingada—You, ARGH—’

Miguel involuntarily swung his claws, destroying a nearby monitor in the process. You ducked to avoid the sparks.

‘LOOK! For god's sake, calm down Miguel!’ you snapped back.

‘Someone needs to go see him’ Miguel murmured back, not even really looking at you. He was pacing violently. ‘Someone has to go make sure he’s okay. He’s looking for—he wants to, see his brother—’

You noticed quite clearly the way Miguel said ‘brother’ and not just ‘Mig’, but you pushed it aside as you tried to bring the tension down. ‘Nobody needs to go and see him’ you said, ‘if Mig isn’t ready we can just- wait. He’ll leave eventually!’

You said the words with mock confidence because you knew it wasn’t really true. Your nest was so obvious and the moment Gabriel stumbled into it he was sure to stay behind. You’d left it with plates on the floor, warm sheets, and signs of life. He’d know it was being lived in, and if he was really here looking for Miguel, he wouldn’t leave.

‘We just need to go talk to him’ Miguel insisted.

‘I can’t’ Mig wailed. ‘I can’t—face him—’

‘We don’t know what his intentions are’ you added on, your hands now cradling Mig’s upper torso. ‘We can’t just run out there. We need to find a way to draw him away—’

‘What do you mean, his intentions?’ Miguel said, his voice lowering again as he raised a claw towards your face. ‘What are you implying, exactly?’

‘He—I don’t know who this guy is, Miguel!’ you cried in exasperation. ‘All I know is he’s looking for Mig, he somehow found our home, he showed up with no warning, he’s just—’

‘He’s our brother!’ Miguel snapped back, his patience clearly waning as something tore at his chest. He was trying to keep it under control, but his emotions were clearly all over the place. He started pacing again.

‘All I know, Miguel, is that people from Mig’s life who he trusted have tried to hurt him before’ you said slowly. You were trying your best to manage your breathing as Mig continued to gasp and pant. ‘I can’t- I can’t just, go out there trusting someone else.’

‘Then you don’t know enough!’ he snapped defensively, his hands clasped to his chest as he turned. His attempts to speak rationally were failing. Nobody was listening, why didn’t they understand what he knew, what he felt?

For a few minutes, a painfully heavy silence fell. You continued stroking Mig’s head as Miguel paced and Lyla monitored Gabriel’s movements as he approached the nest, taking pictures and scanning the ground with something nobody could make out. He clearly wasn’t leaving.

‘I can’t…’ Mig whimpered, his body too stiff to face his past. ‘I can’t…’

You shushed him tenderly as he curled in, his spider legs tucked tight to his belly, but Miguel didn’t say a word. He remained standing with his fists at his side, his face twitching as he struggled to remain calm.

‘Fine.’

Miguel’s words echoed in a way that made the hair on your neck stand up. You turned, slowly, dreading what you would see, only to be blinded by a burst of light.

Miguel formed a portal right in front of you, one that cast deep, dark, jagged shadows across his contorted features.

‘Fine’ he repeated in a breath. ‘Fine.’

‘Miguel, this is a bad idea’ Lyla said, but he ignored her monotone pleas.

‘If you won’t go see him’ Miguel spat, ‘I will.’

‘Miguel, MIGUEL—MIGUEL HE’S NOT YOUR GABRIEL—’

Lyla’s voice was drowned out as he stepped through the portal and shot out the other side, his feet thudding as he landed on the cold, wet grass. He took a moment in the silence to catch his breath.

He was hit with the sounds of birds tweeting overhead, and the rustling of ancient pine needles in a pleasant autumn breeze. He was hit with the smell of lush green, of clear air and wood smoke, and a voice he hadn’t heard in so, so long.

‘Miguelito?’

That nickname. It was the same nickname Miguel had heard for almost all of his childhood. God, his brother had thought it was so funny to call him that when Miguel had gone through his first growth spurt, when he’d outgrown his younger brother by a good 6 inches.

It wasn’t even a funny joke. Miguel hated it. But hearing it then…

Miguel laughed. He laughed, softly, before shakily rising to his feet.

With the light of the portal at his back, he saw him. Gabriel, in his stupid blue jumper with his stupid scarf. He wasn’t wearing his goggles, instead gripping those in his hands. The brushed-back hair, the big brown eyes, it was all there. His stupid, goody-two-shoes brother.

It looked just like him. He looked just like him. He was here, alive. He was real.

Miguel felt everything in his body settle all at once as if he’d been sedated. His heart slowed and his body slumped, all tension slowly easing from his muscles. His lips curled up into a half smile.

‘¡Ey, Mano!’ he croaked, words he never thought he’d say again.

‘Miguel? Is that- Is that you?’ Gabriel called back, his hand flying to his eyes as he tried to make out the figure moving towards him. Miguel approached with his hands at his sides.

‘It’s me’ he said, his voice going low and steady. ‘It’s me. I miss—’

Miguel froze as something crackled in the air, his body instinctively drawing back.

Gabriel was facing him, but now he had some kind of taser in his hand. It looked like something he’d made himself, and it was sparking with electricity. ‘Stay back’ he hissed, his teeth gritted and his eyes fearful. Miguel felt his whole world melting.

‘No—No, no, Gabriel, it’s me—’

‘Who are you?!’

Miguel felt his heart starting to speed up. Sweat was beading on his brow, his mind unable to process what was happening. ‘Gabriel, it’s me, it’s—’

‘You’re not my brother.’

Those words hung heavy in the air, punctuated by a flock of crows rising from the trees and filling the tense silence with their squawks. An omen of death, a reminder of the truth, like a cold hand from god come to remind Miguel of the truth. He didn’t belong here.  

His hands began to tremble as he raised them. He wouldn’t accept it. He couldn’t.

He knew it was true. He knew it wasn’t him. But—maybe—

‘Gabriel, it’s me’ he repeated, his voice breaking a little. ‘It is. It- this might, be hard to explain, but I am your brother. I am. I’m just—’

‘GET BACK! What have you done with him?’

Miguel took a step back as bid by this variant of his younger brother, as he was too afraid he might accidentally hurt him. He continued to back up as Gabriel fixed him with those eyes, the eyes of a man seeing a monster. There was no recognition in those eyes. He saw right through him.

Miguel choked.

‘Gabriel—’

On the other side of the universe, you and Mig were left to watch this fiasco play out on the monitors while Lyla tried to plan for what to do.

‘Arrghhh, Miguel, you make my job so much HARDER—’ the AI hissed to herself.

‘What’s he doing?’ you asked right back, struggling to make out what was happening. Mig remained curled up with his head in his hands, shaking from the strain of this whole event. ‘Gabito’ he panted to himself, barely a whisper. ‘¡Gabito, Para…!’

‘He, uhh… God- okay, look. Listen to me.’ Lyla paused in her panic and materialized in front of your face, her expression unusually stern and serious. ‘His Gabriel, you know, Miguel’s? He’s gone. He’s not- with us anymore’ she explained slowly.

You felt your heart drop like a stone. You could do nothing but move your lips and turn your eyes back to the screen, where Mig’s Gabriel continued to approach Miguel with the taser. ‘Shhiittt, shit, no, no….’

‘He was killed by Alchemax when they came to raid Miguel’s apartment, after he changed. He was the first person Miguel went to for help, and—’

As Lyla spoke, Mig slowly began to raise his head. He stared at the screen as he watched Miguel backing up. His mind kept flashing back, back to his own apartment, back to Dana, and back to Miguel finding him there.

‘He blames himself. Obviously’ Lyla finished, his body glitching in and out of view.

You returned your eyes to the screens with this new, horrible knowledge.

‘Mano, please—’

Miguel continued to take slow steps back, trying his best to placate the frightened younger man before him. He was running out of ideas though, and more than that, his heart was breaking all over again. It was his brother, alive, in front of him. Why didn’t he understand?

‘I want to see, my brother’ Gabriel repeated a little louder. He raised the taser higher. ‘If you don’t tell me where he is, I will use this! I don’t know why you’re- wearing his skin like that, or- if he’s even alive, but I WILL FIND OUT!’

Miguel’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

‘I just… I just…’

Everything Miguel had ever wanted to say ran through his mind as he looked at that carbon copy of his brother. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry, Gabriel. I’m sorry. I missed you. I missed you. I’m sorry—

The taser went off, only to be thrown from Gabriel’s hand in a flash. The young man was thrown to the floor by a blinding light that erupted out of thin air around Miguel’s back.

A portal opened and through it came Mig, his hands outstretched to grab Miguel and pull him back in.

‘NO! NO, WAIT—I CAN’T LEAVE HIM HERE’ Miguel instinctively cried, his body trying desperately to fight the larger version of himself. Unfortunately, Mig remained the stronger of the two.

‘COME HERE!’ he snapped. ‘I WON’T LET YOU DAMAGE YOURSELF, ESTUPIDO—’

‘Miguel?’

The three men froze.

Mig froze halfway through the portal with Miguel’s limp, heartbroken body in his hands, and he made eye contact with Gabriel for the first time. It was almost instantaneous, an almost supernatural reaction, as the young man looked up at his older brother.

This monstrosity, 9ft tall and bare-chested, his lower half crawling and shuddering and twitching, his abdominal fur bristling in the cold, stood before his brother for the first time since the change, and all Gabriel could say was:

‘Mano?’

Mig felt his face sink. His brows went up, his red eyes filled with tears, and his lips parted to reveal his thick, pearly fangs as he choked.

He knew it was him. Instantly, no matter what had happened, he knew. He saw him.

‘You’re… You are alive’ Gabriel croaked. Mig felt tears streaming down his face, but he could do nothing but stare, letting the salt sting his eyes.

‘Mano—’

‘You’re alive’ Gabriel repeated, a little louder this time. He began scrambling to his feet.

Mig couldn’t take it. He was flashing back over a hundred memories; Gabriel as a baby, Gabriel and him playfighting on the couch, Gabriel crying after falling off his bike in the woods and Miguel carrying him home, the two of them huddling in their room as their parents screamed at each other one night, and then—

Dana. Her smiling face gone limp, frozen in terror in her last moments.

All Mig could see was his family in her place. His mother, dead by his hand. Gabriel, dead by his hand. You, dead by his hand. Everyone he could kill. He regressed so quickly.

In another universe, he’d called Gabriel first, and he’d killed him instead. He couldn’t take it.

‘I’m sorry’ he wailed, before dragging himself back through the portal with Miguel’s limp and lifeless form. ‘You have to go!’

The giant spider didn’t hear what Gabriel said as he fell back into Miguel’s office. He didn’t hear you as you came to comfort him, cradling his head in your lap, nor what Lyla said as she tried to get Miguel to respond.

Miguel went straight into sitting limply on the floor, his eyes seeing nothing, as Mig stared at the wall and ignored your attempts to get his attention.

The two men looked broken, just for different reasons.

‘Ah- shit, shit- Mig? Mig, sweetheart, hey!’ You continued gently stroking and cradling Mig’s large head, stroking over every fine feature. You touched his lips as he breathed, feeling them shudder. You pursed your own lips as you realized just how bad this was.

‘Mig… Mig... I—’

INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT! UNAUTHORISED USE OF A PORTAL!

The sudden blaring of an alarm caused you to flinch and turn, your mind rushing to compensate for the two men’s inability to move. Intruder? Who? Where? How had someone gotten through, had someone made another portal? Was this a totally different attack? Was this—

You spun back to where the portal was, the one Miguel and Mig had just come through, and found that something was blocking the light. A dark silhouette stood in its center, with its arms out and its shoulders hunched.

It was Gabriel.

The man was panting hard, clearly slightly queasy from going through a portal for the first time, his eyes a little dazed and misty. You felt your gut sink into the floor.

‘Oh, Gabriel, no’ you murmured.

‘Ah… oh, that, was...’

He stumbled back a step only to also jump as the alarm began blaring, with red light filling the office.

INTRUDER ALERT! UNAUTHROISED USE OF A PORTAL!

As the walls of the office began to shift and ripple like waves Gabriel turned in a defensive circle, his own finger dumbly pointed at his face. ‘Wait, what? Me? Does it mean me?’

You both watched helplessly as something began to emerge from the thick, black metal walls of the office. There were automated guns on the wall, ones filled with small syringes of something thick and green.

They moved, honing in on Gabriel’s body, and they fired. His hands flew to his face.

‘SHIT—’

Right as the shot was about to hit the unarmed man, something altered its trajectory. An arm moving at inhuman speed smashed the glass syringe and splattered it across the floor, allowing you just a second to see what it was.

It was Miguel’s venom. The system was set up to paralyze anyone who got in without permission. You spun back to see who’d stopped it.

Miguel was back up on his feet, and his arms were spread to shield Gabriel’s body as the guns tried to home in on him again. He was strategically moving to keep him covered, struggling to mask every inch of his form.

‘GO BACK THROUGH THE PORTAL!’ Miguel cried, quickly cracking another syringe with his bare fist as it tried to get through his defenses. ‘LYLA, SHUT IT DOWN!’

‘I'M TRYING!’

The AI had made almost ten copies of herself at this point, and every one of them was trying to shut down the system to no avail.

‘LYLA—’ Miguel snapped her name again as he smashed another syringe, this time only just stopping it before it hit Gabriel’s body. ‘HURRY UP!’

‘You put in a hard code to stop it from being turned off, MIGUEL!’ Lyla snapped back in a drawl. ‘I’m doing the best I can, MIGUEL!’

‘What do you mean it's hard coded?!’ you yelled.

‘Miguel designed the system to RUTHLESSLY go after ANYONE who got in through a portal into the HQ without verification!’ Lyla rapidly explained, tumbling and glitching her words as she zipped back and forth. ‘Until the target is paralyzed, it won’t stop, not even for him!’

‘It’s supposed to be unbiased!’ Miguel snapped, struggling even now to not get defensive.

‘WELL, ITS GOING TO STAB SOMEONE SO THINK OF SOMETHING QUICK!’ Lyla screeched back, her body physically tearing itself apart from the stress.

‘GABRIEL, GO—THROUGH THE PORTAL!’ Miguel cried. He grunted as he just barely missed another syringe flying at him from the right, allowing the needle to sink deep into his muscle. Luckily it was his own venom, so it didn’t do any damage, but the pain on his face was clear.

At his back Gabriel looked confused, terrified but determined still as his eyes scanned for Mig. ‘I need to see him!’ Gabriel called back. ‘I need to see him, please!’

‘GABRIEL, TU ESTUPIDO- haz lo que te digo—!’

As Miguel yelled at him the gun started moving, breaking apart into smaller pieces which formed a circle around the group. Lyla was now at twenty versions of herself trying to unblock Miguel’s no-kill code.

‘No, no, no…’ Miguel spread his arms wide as he tried to cover Gabriel fully, unable to accept that he was too small.

‘I can’t stop it!’ Lyla cried. ‘I gotta—’ In a flash too fast to make out she vanished, disappearing in a last-ditch effort to find some way to override the lock.

As the guns began to shift and click, you felt a cold chill up your spine. You glanced at the exit door, too far away for you to reach even at your fastest. Bit by bit, the world slowed down, and you began to back up into nothing.  

There were too many of them now. Their coding had one job: stop any intruder from getting to Miguel’s files, or getting deeper into the HQ, at any cost. If they fired at random, they could hit you too, and with that much venom? Who knows what it would do to your body.

‘Get behind me’ Miguel rasped, even though he knew his body wasn’t big enough to shield you both. His clawed hands grasped at your nape to pull you back against Gabriel. ‘GET BEHIND ME!’

‘Miguel—’

You fell in at his back alongside Gabriel as a sharp, droning whistling noise filled the office, its pitch gradually getting louder and louder. All you could hear was the sound of your own heartbeat, thundering away like a rabbit, as you frantically covered your face with your hands.

The guns went off. Miguel spread himself thin, straining himself to cover you and Gabriel, his eyes wide and horrified.

‘No, no—’

‘MI AMOR!’

The wind was abruptly knocked from your lungs as something huge and amorphous descended onto your body. You were knocked to the ground, surrounded by darkness and fur and heat, with Miguel at your side and Gabriel underneath you. You all cried out at the same time.

The deafening whistles of every gun in the room went off, and you heard the soft, wet, fleshy thud of the needles sinking into something, but the chaos was over unnervingly quickly. You heard rather than saw the alarm being switched off as the guns slowly retreated back into their holsters within the wall, slinking away like nothing had happened.

Even as you caught your breath, you knew what had happened. Even in the grips of shock you knew what had happened. You’d know that fur, that heavy breathing, that sweet smell covering your body right now.

Mig had broken out of his trance in time to cover all three of you from the attack. You shakily raised your head and found Mig’s directly above your own, leaving you locked on his gaze. He stared into your eyes, and he muttered two simple words.

‘Mi… mi amor?’ he muttered, before going totally limp. The paralysis had taken its toll.

‘MIG!’

You screamed and immediately kicked your way out from underneath him, clawing up at his fur to try and see what had happened. It was awful. His poor, giant abdomen was covered in syringes, sticking out of his flesh like a hedgehog.

You didn’t notice Lyla popping back into the room looking pleased with herself. ‘There we go, managed to hack that nicely with Spider Byte. Was I quick enou—oh.’

The AI zipped out of the way as she spotted the state the room had been left in, and most importantly the state Mig had been left in. He let out a low, mumbled groan as his face slowly slid down onto the cold floor.

‘MIG! MIG?!’

‘It’s okay, it's okay!’ Miguel frantically began removing needles as you sank to your knees in abject horror. ‘It’s okay! He’s not dead. My venom won’t kill him.’

‘Are you sure?!’ you blurted. Your hands were instinctively stroking his face, cupping his cheek, feeling all of his warmth around you. ‘Oh Miggy, Miggy, my Mig—’

‘I’m sure! His venom didn’t kill me, it- we’re different enough genetically that our venom can impact the other, but it's not deadly unless taken in severe doses. His- body is so big, this was akin to just a regular dose for him’ Miguel explained as he continued yanking needles out, grunting with each pull.

You felt your body slowly sinking with relief. ‘Oh, thank god, thank god’ you whimpered, your head burying itself into his neck as you curled into the fetal position. ‘Oh Miggy, Miggy…’

‘Just- give him some time’ Miguel murmured as he yanked the last of the syringes out. He did pause to secretly feel Mig’s abdomen, ensuring that he was breathing, and only then did he put his stoic face back on. ‘He’ll wake back up soon, in a few hours. It’s just—’

‘W-What is going on here?’

That voice drew Miguel to a halt. He almost didn’t want to turn. Part of him wanted to run, to hide, but he couldn’t. He remained simply rooted to the spot as someone’s footsteps filled the office, gradually getting louder and louder as they approached Mig’s downed body.

‘He… Oh, Miguel…’

Gabriel sank down to his knees beside the paralyzed Mig, his eyes wide and unblinking. He was wracked with confusion, almost like he was in a dream, and yet he acted with only sympathy. ‘What did they do to you, Miguelito?’

You watched him approach with equally teary eyes, unsure what to say or do. You simply shared a glance without words, and both returned to soothing the enormous, sleeping Mig. His breathing filled the room like a sleeping giant, so deep that it vibrated against the cool, metal floor.

‘Gabriel.’

The man looked up from tenderly brushing Mig’s body to see Miguel standing over him. The instinctive fear he had in his eyes was now gone, replaced by a morbid curiosity as to who this clone of his brother was, but that only seemed to make it harder on Miguel. He stared down at the variant of his brother with folded arms, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

‘We probably… have some explaining to do." Link to next part!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spider man 2099 #smut #arachnophilia #miguel o'hara smut #drider #drider miguel o'hara #monster human relationship #archnophilia

[citrinesparkles]

cold hands

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 789 words. notes: i started this in december i swear it was seasonally appropriate at the time warnings: n/a

he scooped your hands into his own, cupping them together and bringing them to his face smoothly.

he caught your eye with a small smirk. you knew him well enough to know he wasn't really smug- he was looking for your reaction, a silent is this okay wrapped up in his confident expression. the large, colorful lights strung across the shop front you had stopped in front of were reflected in his eyes, but he was focused entirely on you.

you slipped your thumb out of his hold and ran it over his own.

jason took it for the invitation it was and exhaled heavily over your frigid fingers, looking down to them.

you, though? you kept your gaze right where it was.

he was beautiful, you thought. a strong jaw and handful of faded scars were contrasted by the softness of his eyes, his red (garnet, you remembered him saying with a little self-aware grin, not red- that was a work color, and you weren't work) knit hat bringing out the green in them. he was bathed in an orangey-pink from the décor behind you, and you almost wanted to pull a hand back to take a picture.

almost.

"i'm buying you some damn gloves," he muttered without heat, laughter buried in his tone as he gently massaged your fingers.

"and put my personal hand warmer out of a job?"

"he's creative. he'll find another one."

you let out a small huff of laughter, the sound turning to fog between the two of you. you pulled your hands out of his grasp- earning a raised eyebrow- and pushed forward to take hold of the front of his jacket, gently pulling him into kissing range.

as always, he adapted almost instantly. "see?" he asked quietly, his palms finding your hips. "a new job opened up pretty quick."

"shut up," you mumbled fondly, pressing your lips to his.

the warmth in your chest absolutely erupted, the sweet, familiar feeling of his lips- of his presence- making your heart and mind go the same sugar-sweet shade of pink.

"i love you," you pulled back to whisper firmly, grip tightening on his jacket just to give some of the oomph in your veins somewhere to go.

you felt his chuckle under your fists and against your lips, like the bassline of your favorite song with the dial all the way up, rattling through the floor and into your ribs and threatening to turn you giddy. "i think that means i'm doing alright at my new job."

"you're doing wonderfully at your new job."

not much would be worth opening your eyes from such a spell, but you found that his smile made the list: crooked and fond and beautiful and somehow it was aimed at you.

"think i can clock in for another shift?" he asked lowly, playfully, sending another wave of butterflies through your system. they left quickly, replaced by a feeling of belonging, of home, of peace.

"yes," you answered simply, trying (and failing, judging by his little laugh) to keep your eagerness under control. "you should."

so he kissed you again, holding you close. sheltering you from the chill of gotham in the dead of winter. reflecting warm lights onto you and chasing shadows away. turning every beautiful, poetic thought you'd ever had about him into something literal and visible and tangible and not having a single clue.

--

so he kissed you again, basking in the affection in your eyes and letting it warm him straight to his bones. begging his mind to save the image of you bathed in orange and pink and magic, looking at him like he was even close to that kind of beautiful, tugging him towards you like there was nowhere else on the planet you'd rather he be.

and he tried to hold you as softly as you deserved, bringing a hand up to cup your jaw and tilt your head slightly and cherishing the way you immediately, confidently leaned into his touch like you trusted him to keep you upright.

it felt like someone cracked a glowstick where his heart should be.

no- that was too vivid, too harsh. this was like a candle, warm and steady and breathing and alive. this was something to look to in the dim and the dreary, something by which he could read; something to warm his hands over, something to turn to when the storms rolled through and the power failed and left him in the dark.

you were something to turn to in the dark.

he decided, then and there, pressed against your coat and your lips and your warmth, that you were getting the nicest gloves he could get his hands on.

#citrine writes #<- im so rusty thats not even a suggested tag anymore #anyway. it's like 80 degrees here <3 this makes literally no sense but that is okay! #i swear i tried Several other drafts but nothing was clicking tonight and i needed to write or i think i woulda gone batshit #its called a coping mechanism and sometimes you gotta turn your mind's clock back 6 months to give all your feelings a place to go. #so. bon appetit i suppose #jason todd #dc #imagines #jason todd imagine #x reader #dc imagine #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #gn reader

[inmyminditsreal]

Crushes and camping

Fem!reader x Spencer Reid

Word count: 1k

Summary: You decide to go camping with the team, You have a crush on Spencer and have been looking forward to this for a while. Oh, look! You have to share a tent..

SORRY I'VE BEEN GONE SO LONG!! school has been beating my ass 😭. This is very rusty im sorry.

Camping!!

On a rare long weekend for you and the team, you all decide to go camping. With only a little bit of objections you settle that it would be fun and a nice way to relax. In contrast to your very chaotic work schedule. You would be going to some remote wooded area, a “special” spot as you had said. You’re the one leading this camping operation. And as the day comes for you to pack and get ready, you start to stress. Telling yourself it will be fine. It will be fine.

The day comes. It’s around 8am. Everyone’s cars are parked outside your house. Everyone carrying bags. You're not the one who's going to be driving. It’s Hotch. You’ll be Navigating. Which kinda freaks you out, just a little.

“All right, are we ready to go?” Asks Derek as he loads the last few bags into the back of your car. You chime back with, “Yeah I think we’re all set.” Looking around catching nods from the rest of the team.

Everyone awkwardly piles into the car, it’s cozy, in a ‘ready for a road trip’ type of way. You’re in the passenger seat, Hotch in the driver's seat. Spencer and Derek sitting in the middle two, with JJ, Emily, and Penelope piled in the back three. Cozy. You’re very excited for this trip. Your family hadn’t really been big on camping, and anytime you did go, it ended in catastrophe.

You pull out a map as Hotch pulls out of your driveway and onto the street.

“Finally” you sigh.

About two hours fly by and you’re finally outside of civilization. The beautiful trees meet your eyes and you smile. It’s around early fall so it’s still quite warm but the leaves are vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow. You also see Spencer, reading a book with his elbow on the arm rest. He looks perfect reading there. You stare for a while then, you’re brought back to reality when Hotch asks,

“Where's the next turn?” You freak out a little, having lost your place and flip over the map a few times before finding your place and adding, “Right up the street, I'll tell you when I see it.” He nods. You look at Derek and see him smirking at you, he winks. You look away, embarrassed.

After four hours, a little bit of screaming directions, silly jokes, stares between you and Spencer, and stifled giggles later, you make it to the campsite. Stepping out of the car you wobble around for a second. You have only taken a few bathroom breaks/snack stops so your legs feel like jelly. You stretch all your limbs.

“Oh my god! We made it. I thought we’d be trapped in there forever.” Penelope laughs while hopping out of the car.

JJ adds, “God, I know right.” Emily and Spencer laugh.

Everyone’s out of the car and you walk around to find the perfect spot. After around 10 minutes you find the most perfect place ever and say, “This is it.”

“Damn okay, this is nice.” Derek smiles while laying down the bags. He was carrying most of them. After setting up the tents, you frown. You’re missing a tent. Asking everyone if they had brought a tent you come to the conclusion that you had, forgot, a tent. Feeling so very embarrassed you say, “Shit, I’m sorry guys, I made sure to check everything. I swear I brought one.”

“It’s okay, just means SOMEONE will have to share.” Derek laughs while looking between you and Spencer.

Spencer smiles and looks at you, you smile too. Hotch notices people looking for an answer and states, “I’ll decide who shares. You and Spencer,” While pointing at the two of you. The girls giggle rapidly behind you while they share knowing glances at each other. They know you like him. Derek laughs as soon as he sees your face go bright red. You smile, nod at Spencer and say, “Alright, who’s ready for a bonfire.”

Everyone nods as you go to gather firewood. “Hey, can I come with you?” Spencer asks as you’re about to leave. You’re surprised by this because he has been ignoring you the last week or so, but nonetheless say, “Sure yea.”

You begin the walk, grabbing some firewood, and looking at each other every few seconds before you break the silence and ask, “Why have you been ignoring me, Spencer, did I do something wrong?”

There’s a silence that rips you in half, until,

“I like you too much.”

“Wait what?”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to hold, to love and cherish. I can’t deal with those emotions. I love you.”

You’re stunned, and by this time you’re already back at the campsite and it's getting dark. So you part ways and start the fire. The flames barely envelop your feelings, you have no idea what to do. Sitting around the fire, you keep looking at Spencer, to find him already looking at you. After scary stories and s'mores, around midnight you decide to call it. Everyone leaves to their tents. You put out the fire before walking towards yours.

Spencers inside, reading a book. The only light coming from a warm lantern. He notices you walk in and sits up, placing his book down. You change into pajamas in your sleeping bag. You finally meet his eyes and he says, “I’m sorry I made things awkward, I know you don’t have an answer and that’s okay but-”

“I love you too.”

“Really?”

“Always.”

You wrap him in a bear hug, breathing in the scent of pine and coffee with too much sugar. You both lay down and he says, “Goodnight.”

“One more thing, Spence.”

“Sure, yea.”

You kiss him softly while holding his cheeks. After pulling away he looks stunned, as you roll over.

“Hey- what you can’t just roll over after that.”

“Goodnight, Spencer.” you say as you turn off the light.

You cuddled him to death that night. He loved every second of it.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #bau #fem!reader x spencer reid #spencerreid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fic #readerxspencerreid

[callsign-relic]

I loved part 2 so much!! The adorableness makes me grin like a fan girl. How you contrasted what is going on in their heads... one dark, any negative sign must obviously be betrayal... and tiny human reader is fretting over angles and shading and (holy crap Starscream stop moving) for the giant alien war mech 😍🫠

I didn't mean to ramble, I apologize, I just hope you know how awesome you are.

And if the offer still stands, and you think this is okay, I would love a part 3!! And I had an idea that you can totally use or not use, but what about stargazing?

Maybe reader brought a sleeping bag or maybe time just slipped away on a normal visit, idk, I was trying to go for soft bonding.

Idea or not, I'll seriously be happy with anything. Thank you!!! 😊

Wow, thank you so much!! I’m very happy you enjoyed that little series so far :D I’d be happy to make a part 3 for you! For those unfamiliar, here are parts one and two!

Hope you enjoy! I kind of got carried away with it so it’s a little longer than my usual fics, HAHA

Warnings: SFW, Fem!Human!Reader

There was something you had noticed during your frequent visits to Starscream’s hideaway.

For all of the mech’s boasting and shows of his own grandeur, all of his complaints and infuriated utterances when things didn’t go his way— if there was something that could always seem to get him to quiet down, it was the view from the top of the waterfall at night.

Only once had you stayed long enough to really notice. You were already on your way back to your home before sunset, but you had forgotten your bag. You turned back into the clearing, expecting to see Starscream there, only to find him perched atop the waterfall’s edge at the top of the mountain. He wore an expression you had never once seen before on him, and was gazing up into the sky.

And so, you resolved to really see it next time.

Starscream’s optics flicker as they catch the light of the setting sun, fierce in its final moments— as it always was, the seeker had learned from his time stowing away in earth’s wilds. He raises a clawed servo to shield his optics before casting his gaze down onto you.

You were doodling away in your sketchbook— as you usually did, when you didn’t know what else to do. For once, you were taking a break from drawing studies of your mechanical companion, instead examining a finch perched upon a tree branch not too far from the rock upon which you were sitting.

The little bird seemed to be in the midst of its preening ritual. With its sharp little beak, it dug into the pit between its torso and wing and tugged. It kept tugging at the same spot for a little while, until finally, it removed a bug from its otherwise well kept red and brown feathers. With a couple twitches of its head, the bug jittered around in its beak before disappearing into its mouth— a well earned reward after its hard work.

You felt this was the perfect scene to capture on paper. You quickly brought your pencil to the page, first getting the basic shapes down, as you usually did—

But something suddenly blocked the remaining orange light from overhead, and your sketchbook was too dark to look at. Had the sun set already? No, you could still see the faint hues of pink and orange from the corners of your eyes. Perhaps a passing cloud blotted out the sun?

The clearing of a throat pulls you out of your wandering daydream, and you lift your nose from the page to be met with a gray pede. Slowly, you crane your neck higher and higher until, scaling the length of a familiar mech’s frame- until you lock eyes with a pair of squinting, red optics.

You offer a crooked grin.

“Human,” Starscream begins, servos impatiently on his hips, “it is about time you start on your way home.”

Though your grin falls into more of a smile of ‘I tried,’ you nod. You close your sketchbook and grab your bag, stuffing it full of your art supplies and a spare grocery bag full of wrappers from snacks you had thankfully remembered to bring with you that day. As you begin packing up, Starscream gives a nod of his own and goes in the opposite direction as you— scooping the spare mechanical parts he often spent his time fiddling with into his arms before stepping into the forest line. He crouched down, removing a false bush from its place, revealing a worn hole in the ground. Then, one by one, he places the metal pieces into the hole.

Now was your chance. Aside from your travel bag filled with your usual materials, you hike a much larger backpack over your shoulders. You were lucky Starscream didn’t care enough to ask what you were doing with a new bag.

Rather than head out into the forest line— while the mech was distracted, you carefully backed up and away closer to the waterfall. In your exploring, you recalled there was a little alcove hidden behind the waterfall, and that would be your temporary base until Starscream returned to his perch atop the mountain.

Tucking behind the rushing water, you pull yourself inside just in time to see Starscream cover the hole with foliage once more, quickly picking himself up onto his pedes. Though the water makes it difficult to see, you can see the bright red of his optics shift about— he had been scanning the environment as night finally began to fall.

Once he was apparently satisfied, he left your field of vision from this angle. You could, however, continue to track him from the tremors his pedes left in the earth as he walked. Though the vibrations sent your instincts into a slight panic, all you had to do was breathe, you were used to it by now.

Eventually, the quakes fade, and when you hear one final shake run its way from the top of the mountain all the way down to you, you know Starscream has finally sat down.

Now was the time to make your move.

You slip your way out from behind the waterfall and begin your ascent up the mountain. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad of a climb, really— just a steep incline. Though, you did have to take a couple of breaks along the way to catch your breath and take the weight of your backpack off your shoulders for a little bit.

Eventually, you take another few steps up onto the hill, and the back of the silver mech’s frame finally becomes visible to you. You duck your head instantly— you didn’t want to risk him catching you so early on. But, there he was, in that same position he always liked to seem to take.

One leg dangling off of the edge of the cliff, the other crossed onto his thigh, and his arms resting behind him as he gazed into the night sky.

With another breath, you gather your courage. You approach him.

You soon make it up beside one of his servos behind him and he doesn’t even notice you. You’re not sure how to get his attention without frightening him…

“Hey—“

A shrill screech cuts its way through the air, and while you flinch into yourself, Starscream raises his servos in defense— pedes scrambling in place as he looks around in a panic before finally landing his optics down onto you. The fear in his eyes quickly twists into fury, though his chassis pounds up and down all the same. He slams one servo down into the earth with a fierce growl, using his other servo to scoop you up in one fell swoop.

“You!” He shouts, “I told you to leave! What are you doing all the way up here?!”

While getting scooped up into the fist of a metal giant would typically send you into a bout of panic, you had enough experience with Starscream’s sudden flashes of anger that you could keep relatively calm. “Okay, I know you said to leave, but…!” You trail off, trying to determine whether or not it was worth lying to the mech’s whose hands your life was currently at the whims of.

With a sigh, you drop the eager attitude. “…a couple days ago, I saw you up here, looking up at the sky. I— I know you say you don’t care about company and that having people around you is more trouble than it’s worth, but…” your eyes drift to the scar under the mech’s right optic before you lock eyes with him once more. “…I feel like your problem is that you just haven’t met the right company yet.”

Starscream examines you for a long time. His fury has simmered down by now, though his faceplate remains twisted in pure suspicion.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” you add. “Listen, I get if I crossed a boundary with you. I’ll leave if you want me to.”

Then, after another moment of scrutiny, Starscream lowers his servo back down to the floor— much to your surprise. You drop to your feet, nearly tumbling backwards from the weight of your backpack, but you manage to keep your balance enough to see the seeker staring at you with… stifled confusion. Though he appeared to be trying his best to hide his emotions from you, your eyes shifted to the side, catching his wings tilting themselves downward.

Quickly, he tears his gaze away from you. “Fine. If you don’t bother me, you can stay.”

You pump a fist quietly to yourself, all while giving him an earnest, “Thank you.” Finally, you remove your backpack from your shoulders, crouch down, and open the zipper to gaze into the contents within.

Your trusty sleeping bag.

You scoop the mass of fabric into your hands before dumping it onto the floor. You unravel the bundle into a much more usable form, lower the zipper—

“What are you doing?”

The sound of Starscream’s rough voice makes you jump in your spot just a bit. You turn around to see him staring at you with a raised optical ridge— perplexed.

You fully turn to face him and place your hands proudly on your hips. “I brought a sleeping bag,” you explain, gesturing a hand towards the bag. “It’s basically a bed that can travel with you, and you can use it to sleep in the wilderness. Another innovative human invention,” you wink.

The seeker’s confusion dissipates into disinterest. “Whatever keeps you busy,” he waves you off with a servo before turning to face the night sky again.

You shrug— you learned to never take Starscream’s comments to heart anymore. If he really didn’t want you there, he would have long since kicked you out by now. So, you drag your sleeping bag up beside the mech’s hand— Starscream lifting it out of reflex as you approach.

“No, you can stay there!” You assure him, fully unzipping your bag. “Uh, if you don’t mind me next to you, that is.”

The mech rolls his optics, shifting to the side to allow you some breathing room with a grumble. You offer a little chuckle as thanks as, at last, you slip into your sleeping bag, zipping it up to about halfway up your torso.

Then, you cast your gaze up into the stars.

The sparkling dots looked as though they were dancing gently in their places. While you couldn’t tell them very much apart, it was certainly a much better view here than from your apartment window. It was no wonder why Starscream liked the view so much.

“…hey, Starscream?” You try.

“What is it?” He replies in a low grumble, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

“You said you were an alien, right?”

He huffs a pompous laugh, “A Cybertronian, yes.”

“So… is your planet up there somewhere?”

And you’re met with silence.

“Starscream?” You repeat.

“…yes,” he finally answers— though his tone is softer than you had ever heard from him before.

You shift from lying down to resting your weight onto your elbows behind you. “Is it visible from here?”

There’s another huff, but it’s more resigned this time. “No. Though I know its general location from this angle.”

You lean forwards, squinting— trying to get an idea of where Starscream had been looking just from the perspective of his head. But then, you suddenly pull yourself backwards as something slowly raises itself before you.

A single, dark navy servo.

You look between the hand and Starscream’s face for a moment, dumbfounded— but you decide to just take the chance and hop on. He wasn’t even looking at you, who knows how long this offer would last? Leaving your sleeping bag behind, you clamber into his palm, and the very moment you’re settled down is when Starscream raises you into the air, level with his chest.

With his free servo, he points northwest. “There. Just past that cluster of stars.”

You squint again, trying your best to follow his pointed digit. You wished you were more astronomically adept. “The… the group of seven or eight stars there, all bundled up against each other?”

Starscream nods. “There, thousands upon thousands of lightyears away, lies Cybertron.”

#relic writes #Transformers #Transformers x reader #Transformers prime #Transformers Prime x reader #TFP #TFP x reader #Starscream #Starscream x reader #TFP Starscream #TFP Starscream x reader

[pullhisteeth]

the bone crush | eddie munson

summary you’re five years out of high school and your boyfriend's managed to get famous. some days are harder than others, but he goes to great lengths to make it better. [5.5k]

contains modern!au, fem!reader, rockstar!Eddie/famous!Eddie, established relationship, insecure reader, a fight (kind of), depression, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

something I dreamed up on the train home from work one evening because I was listening to Taylor and getting all emo. lots of love xxx

-

But I don't like a gold rush / I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush / I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch / everybody wants you / everybody wonders what it would be like to love you.

-

A tingling sensation spreads from your fingers into your hand, creeping slowly up the length of you arm where it’s pressed between your body and the couch.

You’ve been lying here, on your side on the couch in your apartment, for three hours. The sun’s gone down but you’ve made no effort to move to switch on a light, or to eat, or to do anything, really, besides scrolling mindlessly through every app at your disposal. It began with TikTok, which you opened upon slumping down on the couch after work, still in your stuffy trousers and button-up shirt. It moved to Twitter for a while, then over to Instagram, and back round to TikTok. At one point you even entertained Pinterest, keying doomed phrases into the search bar that you knew would drive you further into the hole.

You’re on Twitter right now. Somehow, you landed on a thread dedicated to the lead guitarist of a well-known rock band. Each new tweet is another photograph of him showing another way that he is, as the poster claims, boyfriend material.

They’re not wrong. The photos are candid shots, taken behind the stage after a gig, or at stage-door late into the night. In each one he looks sleepy, soft, a direct contrast to the gritty stage persona he adopts. He’s got a dopey half-smile or he’s sticking his tongue out; in some, he’s wearing a beanie, and in others he’s got a black hoodie on.

You keep going, reading the replies to each tweet individually, scores of young women cooing over him. Your screen is awash with hearts and flames and flowers, exclamation points and capital letters. 

One of the photos catches your eye. You linger on it for a few minutes, studying the details, reading the replies. You swipe up from the bottom of your screen to close the app, replacing it quickly with your camera roll. You swipe quick, scrolling upwards until you reach your photos from six or seven months ago.

Eddie had been on a tour across Europe. He’d left in February and come home in May, leaving you behind. But in mid-April he’d flown you out to Spain, where the band had a week break between shows. You’d spent six days trawling the streets of a small coastal town, eating your body weight in paella and swimming for hours in the sea. When you got home you’d posted a photo on your Instagram, just one. You like to keep these moments to yourselves, and usually you don’t share much of anything of your life with the world. When you do, though, the fans go wild.

It’s a photo of Eddie at a restaurant. It looks intimate, like it’s just the two of you, though no one’s to know you were surrounded by the band and crew. It was a clear evening, warm and fresh, and he was sat opposite you in a pretty shirt, top three buttons undone so his ink-splattered chest peeked out. He’d tied his hair back, though by this point it was loose, and the ring on the chain around his neck reflects in the light of the candle between the two of you.

He’s looking past the camera, up and over it to your face. You think about what you must have looked like, tongue between your teeth while you got the right shot, head pulled back, the angle unflattering, but it never changed the way he looked at you. The way he always looks at you.

His big, round eyes catch the light, too, deep and rich in the orange glow. His skin’s lit just the same, and so he looks softer than ever. It’s one of your favourite photos of him, which is all the more reason for you to regret ever sharing it.

You take the dangerous leap with this tweet in particular: checking the quote replies. The ones usually hidden from you, only seen if you go looking, which is precisely what you’re doing now. You know this never ends well, only ever leaves you with a deep pit in your stomach, but you have no will to stop yourself.

You know this because this has become routine for you over the past weeks. It’s like a drug, addictive though it does no benefit to you really. Acknowledging that the mean comments sent your way were increasing was your first mistake; seeking them out is where you fell down the hole.

As the window opens, the first tweet you’re greeted with is surprisingly tame and kind, something sweet about how pretty he looks. True.

But then the second, and the third and another a few tweets down, is where it gets bitter. See, when you’re as famous as Eddie is, with such a dedicated following of young girls, your life is never private, and never can be. These girls know who took what picture and when. They think they know how he felt in each one, or who was making him laugh, or where he’d just been. This one is no exception, and their biting remarks resemble thousands you’ve seen before.

He always looks so bored of her.

Surely he can’t enjoy being kept away from the band???

Am I the only one that thinks he hates her lmao

It doesn’t stop there - it goes on for ages, tweet after tweet after tweet of sarcastic or scathing comments about you. Your appearance (which has never been good enough for anyone, apparently), your personality (boring, stuck-up, controlling), and, most commonly, the fact you are a - quote - clout chaser.

Your arm’s completely numb now. You tell yourself that you couldn’t turn your phone off if you tried, despite the fact your thumb is scrolling just fine. You ingest every word, find new fan accounts to trawl and new insults thrown your way to soak up. There are maybe three photos of you online now, and they circulate through these accounts like paper money, exchanged for nothing but the venom of teenage girls. Are they teenagers? You’re not even sure; some of them definitely are, but you’re convinced most of these people are adults.

A call comes through just as you open another series of replies - this time to a thread titled times Eddie Munson looked good enough to eat. It breaks your concentration, your eyes flitting up to the little picture in the corner of the screen.

Eddie.

You can’t bear to answer the phone. You haven’t spoken to him yet today, and the last time you texted him was yesterday, on your lunch break. Sometimes he’s busier than usual; you’re no stranger to a bit of distance.

You let it ring out, the little green telephone going until it stops, the notification sliding back up the screen. Soon enough you get another, for a text, but you swipe it away before you can read the preview.

You stare at the replies for a while, lingering on the ones that claim they could be better girlfriends than her, before finally hitting the lock button and letting your phone drop onto the carpet. You roll onto your back, groaning when the blood rushes back into your arm and the tingling feeling comes back, and muster the energy to push yourself up and stretch.

As the joints in your back and across your shoulders pop, you toe your shoes off and stare blankly at the wall. There's that feeling that always follows these late-night escapades into the depths of the little yet dedicated following Corroded Coffin have amassed: it's a hollow feeling that somehow still fills you entirely. It rips through you, a deep and unwavering yearning for him.

He's been away since August, and now it's October. Two weeks ago, you'd laid here for a few hours after your friends had packed up the dinner party at midnight, looking up at the ceiling, counting the weeks you'd spent with Eddie this year.

So far, it was fewer than you'd spent apart. Of course, watching the man you love do the thing he loves so much is one of life's biggest blessings, but you'd be a fool if you tried to convince anyone that it didn't hurt. Even if you have friends, and your own life, and a job. That clawing yearning, it grows, expanding by the second every time he leaves for another grand tour of some continent somewhere, with his childhood friends and their insatiable libidos, their lowkey stimulant dependencies and the roadies.

He's home in a month, which is really a month and a half but giving yourself more manageable goalposts is something that helps. You're definitely not delusional.

You decide you’ll spend the rest of the evening offline. It’s 9pm, so you strip your work clothes and pull on something comfier. You put bread in the toaster and when it’s done you spread peanut butter on one slice and jam on the other, and on your way to bed you pick your phone up off the floor.

Your offline evening lasts maybe twenty-five minutes. Something about the comfort of bed and the need for something to entertain you while you eat two slices of toast lulls you back to the welcoming arms of evil fans.

It’s 1am when you get another call from Eddie. You managed half a slice of the jam-covered toast before discarding it in favour of your favourite meal - the insults of strangers - and you’ve been curled up in a ball scrolling TikTok for three and a half hours.

Should you answer it? Probably, yeah. For some reason, though, it feels like you’re angry at him, even though he's done nothing. Something spiky flares inside you when he calls, like you’re jealous, or bitter. It’s entirely your own doing and yet you’re punishing him for it.

He calls again when you don’t pick up, and then texts when you let this one ring out too. You try to swipe the notification away again but click it by accident, opening your conversation, which is awash with grey bubbles where he’s tried to reach you with no reply.

The latest one, above the bouncing bubble with three dots, reads: is everything okay?

No, you think to yourself. You watch the dots, addicted to knowledge that he's out there somewhere, texting you after a gig, when everyone else is getting drunk or high or laid. You know this isn’t healthy, but tonight you feel particularly self-destructive.

give me a call when you wake up. xxx

He thinks you’re asleep, so you’re off the hook for now. You can return to your mind numbing, to breaking down your brain cells one by one, until your eyes force themselves shut and your brain winds down, your phone still open in your hand, playing the same video on loop into the night.

It’s a restless sleep, broken too many times and not deep enough to really count as sleep at all. You eventually drift off properly, some time in the early morning, and when you wake, the light’s blinding. You didn’t close the curtains before you went to bed - did you even try to close them at all? - so as the sun’s moved across the room, it’s landed directly over your face. You’re splayed out on your stomach, drool in your hair.

The sun seems high, too high for an autumn morning. You reach around, patting the mattress and your bedside table in search of your phone. With no luck you sit up slowly, groaning, rubbing your sleep-laden eyes.

Your phone’s on the floor beside your bed. You reach it and find that it’s dead, so you tug the charger cable out from where it’s lodged down the side of the bed and plug it in.

For a few minutes you lie there, befuddled, with no idea of the time or how long you were asleep. Impatient, you get out of bed, aching and creaking because of how you slept, and pad across the room to the bathroom. After you pee and dodge your reflection in the bathroom mirror, you head to the kitchen.

The little fluorescent numbers on your stove read 12:08.

Shit.

Turning on your heels, you run back to the bedroom, throwing yourself over the bed onto your stomach. You grab your phone and try to power it up but it’s still flashing the little battery at you, almost like it’s angry you’d even try to turn it on.

Shit, shit, shit.

How long were you out? It’s definitely nearly 12 hours since Eddie last called, and it’s now 48 hours since you spoke to him on your break.

The wait for your phone to come back to life is agonisingly long, a painful three minutes wherein you pace and sit, break out in a sweat, and even start making your bed in desperation.

Finally it buzzes and you jump. As it comes to life it buzzes again, and again and again, and you freak out, dropping it onto the bed.

4 more missed calls from Eddie, and 3 texts. Normal, to be expected with your lack of response.

But the strange thing is the texts from your friends. Each one of them has text you multiple times, at various points since 6am. Even your mum has called, which is strange for a Saturday.

You’re not sure where to begin, so you start with where’s comfortable: Eddie.

I’m worried, sweets. text me soon x

this is getting weird, what’s going on?

any sign of life?

You tap a response quickly, too quick to keep up with yourself. You’re floating in a post-late-night haze, thick with guilt from the night before and head stinging from staring at your screen for so long.

I'm alive! give me a call when you’re free. love you xx

Almost as soon as you hit send, your phone’s buzzing again, Eddie’s name and picture flashing up on screen.

“Hello,” you say quickly as you answer it, bringing the phone to your ear and holding it with both hands, as though it might slip away if you’re not careful.

“Christ, y/n, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry,” is all you can say. He sounds so breathless and it makes your nose burn.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just... I was worried, ‘s’all. Sorry for all the texts.”

“No, it’s okay, I should have called.”

“It’s fine, really, I thought you might be out, after work or something, y’know, didn’t wanna bug you, but-”

“No, Eddie,” you say, cutting him off. “It’s okay, I should have text you or something, I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying sorry,” he says with a light laugh. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, knowing he’ll see right through it anyway, regardless of the fact he’s miles away and hearing you down a phone line.

“What’s up?”

“It’s fine, really, I don’t wanna keep you.”

“’M not busy, sugar. Y’got me for however long ya need.”

“But-”

“Did you, uh... Did you read the news? This morning?”

“What?”

“I think you should, uh, check it. Now.”

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“No, no,” he says, laughing again. “Just...” Your phone buzzes in your hand. You bring it down, setting his call to speakerphone, and see that he’s sent you a link.

You tap it and it opens a webpage. It’s an article on Rolling Stone.

Corroded Coffin postpone US tour.

“What the fuck?”

“Heh...” His nervous laugh sets you on edge, your anxious sweats not letting up.

“What does this-”

“I, uh, I’m about fifteen minutes away.”

“What?!”

“Here, I’ll explain when I’m back, okay? Just... Just please call your mum, will you? And maybe text Robin and Nance back? They’ve been on my back all morning.” And then, before you can protest or ask questions, he says, “I’ll see you soon, sugar. Love you.” The line buzzes. He’s hung up.

You bask in bewilderment for a few seconds, staring at your phone. Your messages app has a little red 57 in the corner - unheard of for you - and you have 5 missed calls - four from Eddie, one from your mum. You call her and tell her you’re okay, and that you’re sorry for the radio silence, and that you’ll tell her everything about the tour when you know more. And then you text your friends back, mostly ignoring the 40 messages in the group chat about the news, telling them the same thing, that you’ll fill them in once you can.

Fifteen minutes passes like an age. You finish making the bed, and then put on some coffee. You tidy away yesterday’s clothes, which you’d left in a pile by the bed, and splash your puffy face with cold water.

Is he angry with you? He didn’t seem angry on the phone. But why is he coming home, and why has the band postponed the tour, because you didn’t pick up the phone for one or two days? Your relationship has been long distance just as much as it hasn’t; going a day without speaking isn’t much to shout about.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes are still puffy and there are marks down one side of your face where your bedding’s made indents in the skin. You scrub the sleep from your eyes and the drool from the corner of your mouth and run your fingers through your hair, doing your best to smooth it down.

It’s then that you hear the familiar sound of keys in the door. Just as you round the corner into the hall, sliding across the wood in your socks, you find your boyfriend closing it behind him and setting a bag down on the floor.

You’re moving before you know what you’re doing. Your body caves in from want, from the deep-seated desire to be next to him, and you can’t - won’t - stop yourself from throwing your arms around him. You squeeze him, your arms around his middle, and feel him relax into you as his own come around you. The two of you stand like that for a while, him rocking you gently, and when he pulls you back so he can look at you, he finds that you’re crying.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, pulling you back in again. You slip from his grasp, though, moving so that you can reach up and paw at his face. You plant firm lips on his and let yourself drown in the euphoria of the reunion.

“Eddie,” you pant against his mouth. “Why-”

“Hey,” he laughs. “I’ll explain, okay? Just-” Kiss. “Missed you.” Another kiss.

“I don’t-”

“Are you okay?”

You speak at the same time, but he’s sterner where you’re unsure. He's looking at you with your face in one hand, eyes hard like he’s trying to get you to fess up.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, nodding quickly and ignoring the way the sound bubbles in the thickness of your throat.

“Here,” he says, the firmness ebbing and his face softening. He takes your hand in his and walks you to the living room, past the kitchen where a week's worth of dishes sit beside the sink. If he notices the state of the place, he doesn't say.

He sits on the couch and waits for you to join him.

He watches you when you do, and for a while it’s quiet. There are a hundred questions you have for him, but they dissipate when he holds your face in his hand again, tucking hair behind your ear like he’s in a movie, tracing the fading indents from your sheets down your temple and across your cheek.

You take in the state of him - the wildness of his hair where it’s pulled back into a scrunchie, your scrunchie, and the deep marks of tiredness beneath his eyes. Otherwise, he’s much the same as he was when he left you in August, your rockstar off to wow every state with that skill of his you love so much. He’d taken too long saying goodbye at the airport, nearly missed his flight to Washington, and when he’d finally let you go you’d stayed, sitting in a deserted café, clinging onto the last glimpse you got of him before he was weaved through security by their manager, Jason.

“What’s goin’ on, hm?” he asks, voice soft as ever and sweeter too. It brings you out of your head and you look up at his ridiculous, gorgeous face, his brown eyes burned with sorrow, the scrunch between his eyebrows that appears when he’s concerned.

“Missed you,” you tell him, whispering in case speaking louder will shatter what can surely only be a bitter daydream.

“Why’d you go all cold on me then?” He drops his hand from your face and holds your leg where it’s bent up underneath you.

“Been a bad couple days.”

“How come?”

“Just missed you,” you repeat. It’s all you can think about now he’s here and he’s got his hands on you - how you’ve missed him, his smile, his eyes, his hands, the way he smells, the space on his shoulder where your face fits when you hug him.

“Missed you too,” he tells you. “But I think you’re hidin’ somethin’ from me.”

You groan and twist in your seat, letting your legs drop off the couch, his hand falling to his own lap, and lean your head back. With your eyes shut, you breathe deep.

“Sorry I didn’t text, or call, I just... I’ve been really low.” You hear the tremor in your voice and know he can hear it too. He hopes you don’t hear his heart and the way it breaks at the sound.

“I know you don’t really go online, or whatever-”

“I know what’s been happening,” he says, cutting you off. You open your eyes and turn your head so your cheek’s pressed to the back of the couch and you can look at him. His eyes are harder now, trained somewhere away from your face, though his hand, now resting too on the back of the couch, toys silently with the ends of your hair.

“You do?”

“Yeah, Jason’s been keeping us, uh, updated, or whatever. Showing us some of it.”

His eyes meet yours and he looks back at you with a tenderness that pulls you limb from limb. 

You crumble then, all the emotion of the past few weeks easing out of you like crackling smoke. You lean, without thinking, into his side and cry, wet and heavy sobs, gasping for air. Through cotton-wool ears you can hear him soothing you, feel his hands smoothing up and down your back. You listen as he coos pretty things in your hair and kisses the crown of your head until your breath’s a bit more level.

“Sorry,” you hiccup.

“Stop apologising,” he says, with that same feather-light laugh he had when he told you the same thing on the phone. And then he breathes out, slow, and says, “I knew somethin’ was up last week, when you called me from the store.”

“Oh, yeah.”

You think back to last Tuesday, when you’d been picking up groceries and only just made it back to your car before the tears had spilled over and left you in a miserable puddle in the driver’s seat. You were tired, of what you couldn’t tell: going home to an empty apartment, shopping for one person, the fact you’d had to buy a different shampoo because you’d used Eddie’s up and they didn’t have the one he usually uses at the store.

You’d called him after you’d cried, just to hear his voice, but it had been late in the afternoon wherever he was and he was getting ready to play another show so all he’d been able to say was I love you, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?

It’d left you feeling bereft, worse than ever.

“I don’t know what to do,” you choke out, mind on that evening and the hundreds of others just like it.

“What do you mean?” he asks, taking your hands in his own, his thumb smoothing up and down the sides of your wrists.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you say flatly. “You being away so much, I... It’s so hard, Eds. I know I have friends, and-” Hiccup. “-and they’re great, they’ve been great, Nance and Rob especially, they... We have dinner every week and it’s not like I spend every night here on my own, waiting for you, or whatever, I just... Everything online is so hard to look at but it's also so hard to not look at, it’s so hard to see all these people being so invasive and weird, wanting you all the time, following you around, and sometimes it’s mean and then I think, you know, maybe they’re right sometimes. I miss you, and it hurts and I don’t know what to do because you’re so happy, and I love you and I love your band and you’re so talented but I just... I sit back here, waiting for you. It’s like I’m a... An anchor, or something, y’know? I feel like they’re right, I’m holding you back, I just-”

“Stop it,” he says. You take a well-needed breath and look at him, hearing the way his stern words come out filled with remorse, and find that his eyes are red round the edges and his mouth’s doing that thing it does before he cries.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

He squeezes your hands and says, “No, it’s okay, I just- I hate when you talk like that.”

He takes a breath and, letting go of your hands, pinches the bridge of his nose. After a quiet moment he sits upright and turns to you.

“I never, ever feel held back by you. Do you hear me?”

“I know, I just-”

“I mean it. Never.”

“Okay,” you sigh.

You see him ease a little, leaning back slightly.

“I know you didn’t sign up for this, and the fact you’re still here is honestly... Maybe one of the craziest things ever. I know that it’s been bad recently, I’ve seen some of the stuff online and god knows I have to deal with it in person every time I leave a fucking building, but you can't listen to them, baby. I don’t want any of this if it’s hurting you.”

“Eddie-”

“I’m serious. I’d drop it all, leave it all behind, change my name and flee the country or something, if it meant I’d get to be with you.”

Your nose burns again, and there’s a simmering ache in your temples. You breathe and try to keep the tears at bay but it’s futile; they come without permission and quickly, thick drops down your cheeks.

“When you called last week, I... It broke my heart, sugar, I couldn’t bear it.”

“I had to get different shampoo,” you tell him bluntly, like it’s the most reasonable thing in the world to cry over the little red out of stock sticker underneath where the bergamot shampoo would usually be.

He just looks back at you sadly. You’re not sure where to go from here, because whatever outcome you know your heart will break. You could leave him, abandon all of this and start afresh somewhere new, taking your time to mourn the loss but get over it eventually. You could stay, doing this every year for the foreseeable future, playing your role as the doting girlfriend who waits patiently for her world-famous boyfriend to come home. Or Eddie quits, and you live with the guilt of what he’d lose forever.

“What’s goin’ on in there?” he asks you, tapping your forehead softly with his index finger. “Hm?”

“What do we do?” you ask him, as though he's somehow wiser than you when it comes to this.

He toys with your hair again, tucking it behind your ear. “I don’t know,” he admits, “but I’m here for now.”

“But you’ll go again,” you remind him.

“Yeah,” he responds reluctantly. “But there’re only two weeks left of tour.”

“But there’ll be another, and then another.”

“Not like this, there won’t.”

“Eddie, you can’t quit. That’s not fair, I can’t expect you to do that, I don’t want you to do that.”

“Who said anything about quitting?”

He’s suddenly got a smile on his face. It’s only small, one side of his mouth pulled up in some kind of mischievous signal.

“You can’t keep making music and not touring, that’s not-”

“I’m not quitting music, baby. Tours just won’t be this long.”

“But you’re getting more famous, you can’t-”

“Let me explain,” he drones playfully, not really fed up with you but playing into it to get you to listen.

“You’re right, you can’t expect me to quit and stay here with you, just like I can’t expect you to drop everything and come with me. I thought about it, y’know, the logistics of you coming but it’s not easy, I mean, we live on a bus for most of the tour and when we are in hotels we’re doin’ press all day, and just ‘cause we could afford it now doesn’t mean I want you to quit your job, or leave your life behind for me or anythin’. But I also... I hate this just as much as you do. I don’t know how it looks to you ‘cause my free time isn’t exactly a lot but I spend literally every minute I have on the phone to you, so much that Gareth’s started really takin’ the piss, givin’ me shit for it...”

He’s laughing and as you let yourself laugh too, feel the heavy weight of distance lifting off you. It’s been so long that you’d almost forgotten how blissful it feels to be sat with him, laughing like this in your little apartment. Almost.

“I’ve got some ideas about how we can make this work,” he continues, “but right now I’m just happy you’re okay.”

“How long are you home for?” you ask him in a low voice, hesitantly, lest you get your hopes up.

“However long you want,” he says softly, tracing the side of your face. “But probably a couple of months.”

“Months?!” you gasp, incapable of controlling your volume. He flinches and laughs again.

“Yeah. Won’t be able to sort new shows for a while anyway.”

The tears return, only this time they’re born of a deep relief. You feel it lift you and you fall into him, gripping on for dear life. Your arms wrap around his middle and your nose rests at his neck, and you squeeze him as hard as you can while he carries on laughing, his own hands matching yours. When his t-shirt is sodden with tears and your arms have eased up he brings you up to meet his eye. As you watch them flit between your own and your lips you get that feeling, the fluttering of a crush deep within. Suddenly you’re both seventeen again, when your biggest worry was whether the boy with long hair in your English class liked you back, rather than all the burdens of early adulthood and fame. And then he kisses you, a true homecoming kiss, warm and firm and sure, and you melt into him, sighing happy noises and kissing him back.

Four hours later, you’re still on the couch. He helped you clean, slowly undoing the wreckage of depression, and you both showered, washed his hair with the shampoo that will become his new smell. You’ve torn through an order of Chinese takeout and you’re halfway through a tub of Ben and Jerry’s, though currently it sits abandoned on the coffee table, the two spoons leaving melted ice cream across the varnished wood.

The conversation - about where you go from here, how you navigate this new life together - is saved for another day.

Right now you’re in his lap, right where you like to be, kissing him senseless and letting him do the same to you.

You dance your mouth across his cheek, down his jaw and onto his throat, over the scattering of pretty, blooming bruises that match your own (just marking what’s mine, he’d told you). When you reach his collarbone, he says, “Maybe we should get a cat.”

You sit upright and look at him quizzically. “A cat?”

“Yeah,” he says, a lazy smile growing. “It’d keep you company when I’m not here, and Nance would love lookin’ after it when we're away."

You dwell on the idea, your eyes dancing across his face which glows a pretty shade of pink in the low living room light.

“Okay,” you agree, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get a cat.”

-

One month later, you pick up Ozzy from the pound. He’s a baby, really, small but filled with restless energy. He’s black with white socks and though you dote on him endlessly, it’s Eddie he truly falls for.

At least you have something in common.

-

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson angst #Eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #st 4 #stranger things vol 1 #stranger things eddie

[jamdoughnutmagician]

A Cut Above The Rest

Mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Haidresser!Reader

Tricks and Treats and Everything In-between (Part 7)

Summary:You and Robin make your way to Steve's Halloween party where you make some new friends, and are joined by an unexpexted guest.

Word Count:2, 515 (a little longer than usual, but trust me it's worth it)

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Masterlist Series Masterlist

“Stop fussing with it, you look hot, trust me.” Robin chastised as you began pulling at the fabric of your black velvet dress.  You had chosen to dress up as Morticia for Steve’s Halloween party, and whilst you had felt good in the dress at first, the body-hugging material suddenly felt all-too constricting against your skin as you made your way to Steve's place.

"That's easy for you to say, you're not wearing a skin-tight velvet prison." You whined, pulling at your dress once more. 

Robin’s costume was quite the stark contrast to yours. She was wearing an oversized orange turtleneck sweater and a pleated red skirt that fanned out just above her knees, a pair of black rimmed glasses sat perched on her nose.

"I felt like it just made sense, y'know? I mean, there's no way that Velma wasn't a lesbian, right?" She laughs as she links her arm in yours, both of you making your way up to the grand steps of Steve’s house.

You knock your knuckles against the door, only for it to fling open with Steve standing there, smiling broadly. He’s wearing a dark brown bomber jacket that’s decorated with various patches thrown over a white t-shirt. A silver chain of dog-tags around his neck and a pair of black aviator sunglasses hang from the shirt’s collar. There’s a faint sound of some music and muffled laughter and chatter coming from behind him, the party already getting under-way. 

“Good evening ladies! Welcome to my humble abode.” he says grandly with a smirk. “Come on in!”

“Yeah, yeah, alright, Maverick. Where’s the drinks?” Robin teases as she gently pushes Steve aside in search of alcohol.

You step your way through the hallway and take a second to marvel at the enormity of the house, with high ceilings, and ornately patterned wallpaper. 

You turn your eyes to Steve, your eyebrows knitted together.

“I don’t mean to be rude when I say this, but I thought you lived in a small apartment downtown? How come you’ve got this whole house to yourself?” you ask, gesturing openly to the sprawling nature of the house you find yourself in.

“Parent’s house. Dad’s away on one of his usual business trips, mom doesn’t trust him not to let his hands wander, so I get this whole house to myself for a few days.” 

“..and what better way to enjoy all this than with a massive party, right?” you lead.

“You got that right” he chuckles, nudging his elbow into your arm with a smirk. “Come on in.”

You follow Steve into the spacious living area where sure enough there are already a whole bunch of people mixing and mingling. You scan your eyes over to see where Robin is, shaking your head with a smile when you see that she’s already made her way over to Vickie, the red-head from the bar, who's coincidently dressed up as Daphne, in a purple mini-dress and pink tights. 

You feel a bit out of place for a moment, until a girl with bouncy brown curls dressed up in a Wonder-Woman costume comes up to you to hand you a plastic red cup with some kind of drink in it. It’s Nancy Wheeler, you recognise her from your school years, you never really talked to her much, your circle of friends never seeming to intersect.

“It’s from the punch bowl, it’s just cranberry juice, lemonade and just a splash of vodka” she says listing off the ingredients. 

You smile politely, thanking her as you take the cup from her hands and take a sip. The sweet, fruity concoction is just the thing you need to settle your nerves.

“I haven’t seen you since high-school” she smiles warmly. “Where have you been hiding?”

“Oh I moved away after high school, went to college in Chicago and lived there for about 10 years.” You omit the fact that your lying, cheating ex-boyfriend was the reason for your return to your hometown.

Nancy nods, with a smile, quickly moving on. “How about I introduce you to some people?”

You walk with her over to a group of younger looking kids, they couldn’t be much older than sixteen. All of them dressed in their own unique costumes. The group are standing around talking to two older boys, one with shaggy sandy-blonde hair, the other with very long dark hair, falling down around by his waist.

“..And that, my little spooky friends, is why pineapple is the best pizza topping” says the boy with the long hair. He’s dressed in casual clothing, the only effort he’d seemed to have made towards any kind of halloween costume was a fake knife on a headband and a few streaks of red paint drawn on his forehead. 

A sea of groans and fake gags sound out from the rest of the group.

“Hey I’m just saying, don’t knock it, till you’ve tried it.” he says defensively holding his hands up.

"Everyone, this Y/N," You wave awkwardly, before Nancy continues to introduce the rest of the group. "That's my younger brother, Mike," She says pointing to a young boy who also seems to be unenthusiastic about dressing up for Halloween, with a vague attempt being made by a Batman t-shirt.

"This is my boyfriend, Jonathan," he offers his hand to you, and you accept it, with a shake.

"..And that's his friend, Argyle." Nancy continues. 

"And then these are all Mike's friends from school." Nancy explains, gesturing to the remaining kids in the group, each one introducing themselves in turn.

"So, Steve told me you were out on a date with Eddie last week?" Nancy pipes up with a smile playing at her lips.

"News travels fast around here, huh?" You huff.

"Oh so you're the pretty girl that Eddie was so excited to go on a date with!" Dustin butts in.

"Dude!" Lucas gently elbows him in the ribs, narrowing his eyes at his friend's choice of words.

"What? He was! I've never seen him so goo-goo over anybody before!" Dustin defends.

"..And how do you know Eddie?" You ask the curly-haired boy.

"He's our DM." Jonathan's brother, Will speaks up.

"He’s the best DM there is out there!" Dustin cheers, speaking very highly of Eddie’s dungeon master skills.

Just as you begin to slip into easy and comfortable conversation with your new found group of friends your attention is diverted by a loud voice shouting over the noise of the other party-goers.

In strolls Eddie, a case of beer tucked under his arm and a certain level of swagger to his gait.

He's gone all out for his Halloween costume. His long dark curls flowing from underneath a skull and crossbones bandana tied around his head, and a dark leather waistcoat layered over a loose-fitting white shirt, the deep neckline of the shirt peeking open enough to reveal a slight glimpse of the demon tattoo on his chest. A dark smudge of black eyeliner runs across his lower lashline, making his already dark brown eyes look even more intense. The rogue pirate really was a good look on him.

“Here you go, Harrington, these are for you” he nods, dropping the case of beer in Steve’s arms, before making a beeline for you. 

“Cara Mia, Mon Cher” Eddie says seductively, giving his best Gomez Addams impression, as he takes your hand in his, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “You look beautiful.”

You preen under his affections before coughing slightly, alerting him to the presence of the rest of the group.  Eddie smiles before coming to stand next to you, wasting no time in slinging his arm around your shoulder to bring you close to him.

“So, Dustin was just telling me how you’re the best dungeon master that they’ve ever had.” You say to Eddie.

“Yeah, well, when I saw this bunch of lost and lonely little sheepies, who looked like they needed a helping hand, so that’s where I stepped up.”  he answers proudly. “These kids are gonna be the future of Hellfire.” he smiles, playfully ruffling his hand through Dustin’s hair.

You talk with everyone for a little while longer, learning how Steve was throwing this party as a last hurrah before some of the teenagers went off to college, and how Nancy was going off to California to live closer to Jonathan after getting a journalism internship at The San Francisco Chronicle.

Just as you’re talking, your attention is diverted by a change in the music. The sounds of The Cranberries’ ‘Dreams’ filtering through the stereo’s speakers.

“Eddie!!” you jump up excitedly, tugging on his shirt’s sleeve. “They’re playing my favourite song! Come dance with me! Please!” you plead, batting your eyelashes and giving him your best puppy-dog eyes.

“Oh, alright” he smiles as he rolls his eyes, allowing you to pull him towards the makeshift dance floor in the centre of the grand living room where there are already a few people dancing.    

"That is a man in love if ever I saw it, my dudes" Argyle said to the group as you whisked Eddie off, the both of you smiling brightly at each other.

You waste no time in dancing to the song, letting your hips sway and shoulders rock to the music. Eddie stands close to you, unsure of himself, his dancing skills were certainly not something that he was known for.

You notice his hesitancy, and are quick to take both his hands in yours and place them on the curve of your hips, 

 ..I know I’ve felt like this before, but now I’m feeling it even more..

You let him take his time, stepping in time with him to the beat of the music. Your eyes look into his, admiring the way they sparkle in the glow of the colourful, decorative Halloween lights.

..And now I tell you openly, you have my heart so don’t hurt me..

This quiet moment between you just felt all so natural, like you were the only two people in the room, the only thing grounding you to reality is the touch of his hands on your hips. Holding you so gently as though he was frightened you were going to break.

..A totally amazing mind, so understanding and so kind. You’re everything to me..

Eddie’s confidence grows as you dance together. Everyone else fades into the background. It’s just you, him and the music.

..And oh, my dreams. It’s never quite as it seems, ‘cause you’re a dream to me..

The song finishes and you’re both standing so close, with his hands holding their place on your hips. There’s a beat of silence between you both as Eddie’s eyes quickly flick down to your lips. He leans down to you, almost as if he’s going to kiss you, before he pulls away shyly as if he wasn’t sure that you wanted him as much as he did you.

There’s a slight awkward tension in the air for a brief moment before you break the silence.

“Thanks for the dance, Eddie. I’m going to get a drink”

Eddie nods, giving you an affectionate hug, watching you make your way into the kitchen, desperately hoping that he hadn’t just ruined his chances with you.

You grab yourself a cup from the table and begin ladling a few scoops from the punch bowl into your cup. 

The atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly feels eerily quiet. A chill rattles through as you feel a presence caging you against the granite worktops of kitchen island.

“Y’know, you are not an easy girl to track down, Y/n” A voice rasps out with a sinister chuckle.  A man in a dark t-shirt, jeans and a Friday The 13th hockey mask towers over you.

You watch as the man reveals his face to you. It’s Jacob. You’d left him, broken up with him, fleeing your apartment with tears in your eyes and it wasn’t enough for him.

“How did you find me?” you stutter out.

“There aren’t many places you can hide, Princess.” the pet-name sending an unpleasant shiver down your spine. “Hawkins is only a small town, you know that.” he taunts. “Started asking around. Tommy Hagan said he saw you in The Hideout a few days ago, gave him a few dollars and he gave you up right away. Said I could find you here, and look at that, he was right.” he says smugly, flashing you a smirking grin. “All it took was some dumb dollar-store Halloween costume and I slipped right in without anybody noticing.” 

“What do you want from me, huh?” you fight. You were not about to let him intimidate you, not after how he treated you.

“Want from you? I don’t want anything from you, but you are coming back to Chicago with me. You’ve had your fun, hiding away from me with your little friends, but where are they now, huh?” he continues to taunt you, pressing you further into the kitchen’s granite worktops, his hand wrapping around your arm in a bruising grip.

“Hey, dickhead!” You hear a voice shout from behind Jacob. “What d’ya think you’re doing huh?” It’s Eddie. He lays his hand harshly on Jacob’s shoulder, putting himself between you and your ex-boyfriend.

“You get a kick out of making girls feel small and vulnerable, huh?” Eddie says, glaring at Jacob with an intense stare.

“Oh I see how it is, you like her, don’t you pal.” Jacob retorts, poking his finger into Eddie’s chest.

Eddie flicks Jacob’s hand away.

“Don’t touch me. And I ain’t your pal, dickhead.” Eddie gravels out, the tension between the two men rising.

“You know what, freak?” Jacob flashes his Cheshire cat-like grin once more. “You can keep her. She was a lousy lay anyway.” he sniggers.

That was it. Eddie had had enough. The tension between the two men had reached a boiling point. Eddie pulls his fist back before launching it forward straight into Jacob’s nose with a crack.

Jacob stumbles back with the force of the collision, clutching his hands to his bloody nose.

“If anyone’s the freak it’s you, asshole.” Eddie spits down at Jacob, shaking his fist loose after hitting him so hard.

With all the commotion going on Steve rushes into the kitchen in a panic.

“Steve, this unwanted guest needs throwing out if you ask me.” Eddie says, nodding his head down to where Jacob sat still clutching at his nose.

Steve flicks his eyes over to you, when you give him a reassuring nod of your head, your eyes glassy with unshed tears.

Steve grabs Jacob by the scruff of his shirt and yanks him up to his feet, before dragging him out of his house.

Eddie turns to you immediately, checking you over to see if you’re alright.

“He didn’t try anything, did he?” Eddie worries.

“Eddie I’m okay, I just want to go, if that’s alright?” you say shakily.

“Come here, my van’s out there, we can leave right now, don’t you worry.” Eddie reassures you.

@penguinsandpotterheads @slutty-thevampireslayer @xxhellfiregirlxx @mmunson86 @avalon-wolf @ali-r3n @jesssssmaybankk

#Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #Eddie munson x female reader fluff #Eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson series

[lale-txt]

Raffle Prize: midnight hearts w/ Mihawk & gn!reader

a/n: 2nd prize for @mangekyuou (⺣◡⺣)♡* Zuk asked for a night garden date where reader proposes to Mihawk and i was on my knees for this prompt. in so many ways. this was supposed to be 1k words only but i ran a little with it. thank you for letting me write something so fluff and tender, i really loved working on this! sending kisses mwah <3

word count: 2.3k

Kuraigana Island was lonely without him. 

Mihawk had kissed you goodbye a week ago before he set sail to a warlord meeting. You knew he despised them and most of the time he simply didn‘t attend those meetings, mumbling something about how he‘d rather spend time with you in the garden, but this one was mandatory. After all his status as warlord guaranteed him and you the protection to live on this island in blissful solitude, just him, you and a few dozen baboons. It was the first place you called home.

„Let‘s have a date night once you‘re back, okay?“, you mumbled between two kisses, your arms wrapped around his neck as you stood on tiptoes in the doorframe. „Let me spoil you a bit.“

“Shouldn‘t that be my turn? After leaving you here all by yourself…“ Mihawk‘s piercing eyes searched for yours and made you weak from the way he looks at you with worry, furrowed brows as he cups your face with both hands. You leaned into his touch, then pulled him down again to kiss away his sorrows.

„Well, someone‘s gotta look after the garden, right? I‘ll be alright, my love. You got my vivre card and I got yours. I bet you would be here in a heartbeat if anything happened.“

Mihawk wrapped his arms tighter around you and placed a kiss on top of your head. When you first met him you wouldn‘t have thought that he was the clingy type; he came off as distant and cold, harsh even. Sure, he had granted you shelter and took care of your wounds when you were washed up on this island, a traveling merchant being ship-wrecked. But he wasn‘t a man of many words, and those that he said to you were rather insulting then soothing, scolding you for underestimating the tides and dangers of the Grand Line.

In contrast to that he still left you breakfast on the table every morning and put out a second wine glass for you when he opened an expensive looking bottle at night before he retreated to the living room, reading a novel in his armchair, often falling asleep over it. You threw a blanket over him in return and the fire in the chimney dipped him into warm shades of red and orange, making his sharp eyes glow even more when they sleep-drunkenly crossed your gaze. Like two cats you slowly approached each other over time, giving the other one space but also seeking warmth. Once your wounds healed, you started helping him out in the garden to show your gratitude and then one day he simply handed you a key.

„This is your home, too.“

You stared at him in disbelief; over the past couple of weeks you had assumed he would simply kick you out once you were back to full health and your ship was fixed. The thought of it hurt you more than you wanted to admit, because it meant that this foolish heart of yours had already decided where it belonged to, who it belonged to. And he was standing right in front of you, irritated by the tears falling from your eyes as your fist closed around the key. Mihawk pulled you into a hug and all tension fell from your shoulders as you sank into his embrace, crying softly against his chest while your heart crumbled, only held together by a pair of strong arms and his low voice mumbling out your name, almost apologetically. 

And so you settled down and started selling produce and homemade jams and pies at a nearby farmers market twice a month instead of traveling the seas, coming home to a set table and Mihawk with an apron around his waist, treating you to dinner after a long day. Over time you both eased into a domestic routine, and one night Mihawk kissed you in the garden under the wisteria, fireflies dancing around you. It felt like a dream and sometimes it still does when you wake up next to him in the morning, tangled up in the sheets together in perfect unison.

Whenever he was gone for a warlord meeting, you would check his vivre card before bed, your heart sighing in relief when you saw it in perfect condition. Mihawk was strong, you knew you didn‘t have to worry about him, but you still felt calmer after making sure. Just in case. The world news have been rough these days and made you wonder if you could stay here in your blissful solitude forever or would be forced to relocate one day. Whatever happened, you knew Mihawk would always be by your side, protecting you.

You had no doubts about forever, but lately you found yourself thinking about his elegant hands more often, wondering what they would look like with a gold band around his ring finger, sealing the promise you gave each other without words long ago…

The next morning you wake up to the smell of pancakes and a vinyl playing softly in the background and your heart leaps in your chest, knowing your lover has returned. You kick back the covers and don‘t bother changing, just run as fast as you can down the winding stairs into the kitchen, not slowing down until you fling yourself into Mihawk‘s arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent you‘ve yearned for so long.

„Welcome home, my love“, you mumble and wrap your arms tighter around his neck. „I missed you so much.“

Mihawk hums and plasters the side of your neck with kisses until you raise your head and look at him, a gaze full of love, and lean in for a deep kiss, one that sparks a fire inside of you. You could stay like this forever, but now that he was home again you had a special date night to prepare… but first, a tower of pancakes is waiting for you.

You spend the morning talking and cuddling, having a slow breakfast together and a warm bath afterwards. Mihawk relaxes visibly when you wash his back for him, letting out a deep sigh and sinking into your embrace as you hug him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder, just two souls relieved about being reunited again. Later on, while Mihawk unpacks, it‘s your turn to take over the kitchen and prepare everything for the night. Your lover offers his help, but you gently guide him outside by his shoulders and order him to relax. You find him fast asleep on the couch soon after, an open book on his chest. He must have been more tired than he ever would admit — even more reason to spoil him tonight.

Once the sun sets, you both get dressed for the date night. Mihawk wears a white linen shirt, half unbuttoned, combined with a pair of tight black pants. It is a simple yet effective outfit and you can‘t take your eyes off his marbled figure, the sharp eyes and his hands, oh, his hands… You smile when he leans down to help you fasten your necklace, a birthday gift from him, and close your eyes when he tilts your head slightly for a kiss. Small gestures like this make your heart jump and for a second you‘re tempted to ask him right here, right now, because your love never needed grand entrances, it was stored in faint touches and the longing in his gaze across the room. 

Hand in hand you make your way to the garden and your heart beats so loudly in your chest with excitement. You feel so sure about this and yet there is always this slight fear that you‘ll wake up and realize it was all just a dream. Mihawk squeezes your hand and gives you a warm smile, almost as if he could hear your thoughts loud and clear, and you calm down a little, the warm touch of his hand in yours reassuring you that you had nothing to worry. This is the hand you will hold for as long as you dance under the same sky.

„You did all of this? You shouldn‘t have…“

Mihawk takes you in his arms and kisses the top of your head when you show him the spot you prepared, a big blanket under the wisteria, fairy lights hanging from every branch and dipping the garden into a soft, warm light. A bottle of his favorite wine and a selection of snacks which you made from scratch are ready for you to enjoy and you feel really proud of yourself when he looks at you so full of adoration. 

You both take a seat, leaning against the trunk of the old tree, shoulder to shoulder, taking the magic of the garden at night fully in. It‘s a mild night but you still scoot closer to Mihawk, craving his touch more than anything. His hand finds yours and your fingers intertwine, and you close your eyes for a moment as you let your head sink onto his shoulder. Your soul never felt more at peace.

„I love you“, you whisper into the dark and smile when he places a kiss on the back of your hand, squeezing it tighter. „You have my whole heart.“

„And you have mine.“ Mihawk kisses your forehead and you can feel him smiling against your skin. How did you get so lucky? You don‘t know the answer, but you‘re treasuring every second of this. “I never believed in fate, but when you got washed ashore at the coast… that night, I was on my knees.“ 

“And I thought you hated me“, you chuckle. „I was terrified of you. It was like your eyes stared right through me…“

„And I saw your heart. Your beautiful, golden heart. Beating, drumming, clinging onto this life so desperately. I wanted to protect it more than anything.“

You feel tears welling up in your eyes and quickly wipe them away, sighing when Mihawk cradles your face with his other hand, fingertips brushing over your skin and leaving nothing but warmth. You snuggle closer to him, embracing his touch. Your voice is soft and dripping with love when you speak.

„I knew I was in love with you when I saw you standing there in the kitchen one morning. You didn‘t notice me, or maybe you did but didn‘t let it show. And you hummed to the tune of the vinyl playing, one of my favorite songs, a cup of coffee in your hands while you waited for the eggs to cook and you looked so… peaceful. And my heart just yearned for this. For a quiet life. A simple breakfast with the one who touched my soul, handpicked flowers on the table. The absence of fear.“

You let out a surprised gasp when Mihawk wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in his lap, both of his hands cupping your face as he gently guides you to his lips. His heart beats fast under your palms when you rest your hands on his bare chest and sink deeper into the kiss. The moon shines brightly, illuminating the whole garden and it feels like everything has aligned for this moment, the vast night sky your stage. You feel a tugging on your heartstrings as you break away from his lips, seeking his gaze.

„I want to grow old with you, Mihawk. No matter what the future holds, I want us to face it, side by side, with your hand in mine. Maybe it‘s foolish and naive, but when I close my eyes, I see us in the garden and my heart feels at peace. I don‘t need much. Just you and your kisses and my heart is full already. I love you.“ You rest your forehead against his and close your eyes. „So if you feel the same… will you marry me?“

Before you can fumble for the ring in your pocket, Mihawk‘s lips crash against yours, taking your breath away. You can‘t tell how long the kiss lasts because it‘s one that makes you forget your own name and takes you into higher spheres, just two souls melting into one, no words needed to give you an answer to your question. You laugh and you cry when you pull away for an inch, lips hovering over his. Mihawk held you tight and is now reaching for your hand. 

„You beat me to it…“ Within the blink of an eye he slides a ring over your finger and brings your hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your palm before he cradles his face in there, eyes closed. „You are all I need. You‘re my home. Let‘s share a life together and fill every day with laughter and memories sweeter than honey, my love, my everything…“

„What…?“, you stare at the ring on your finger in pure disbelief and let out a raspy laugh. Out of all scenarios you imagined this wasn‘t one of them. You felt dizzy, your whole body vibrating with pure joy. Here you are, wanting to surprise him and yet…

„Took a small detour on my way home. Do you like it?“ 

You try to hold back your tears but it‘s pointless, instead you simply take his hand and finally put a ring on his finger as well. Everything was a blur of lights and colors but you can see his heart, how bright it was shining for you, guiding you through the darkest nights into eternity, two lovers dancing upon the stars.

Forever and beyond, in this life and every life after that; for as long as you would meet under the wisteria again, hearts beating in unison.

#dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #one piece x you #one piece reader insert #one piece fluff #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #lale‘s anniversary raffle

[coulsonlives]

Mkay, time for my in-depth review of Zuko's scar in the live action ATLA, because I'm a lil salty.

This is the first shot of Zuko we see, and my first impression is: this isn't the best makeup. The first thing that stands out is the flatness of the scar. It's unrealistic, because burn scars usually heal in a lumpy way, it's called hypertrophy. See the burn scar from the Hound (Sandor Clegane) in GOT:

That lumpiness is super important for making skin appear like it had been burned by fire and healed over! But because it's not really there in Zuko's face, it just looks like he got a bad sunburn:

I understand Zuko doesn't need a super deformed face, or enormous textures in his scar, but we basically have just flat skin right now, and it doesn't sell 'bad scar' at all. The makeup should've been somewhere between those two things.

The second thing is the general inaccuracy of the scar itself. I'm not gonna nitpick how it doesn't go as far down his cheek, or how it's not affecting his left eyelid, but there are some major things I am gonna mention. In the animated show, his left eyebrow was burned away because the fire contacted the skin underneath it, and then went over that, up into his forehead:

Here's a crappy edit I made where the brow is mirrored, you can see how much the scar extends over it.

But in the makeup, it looks like the fire either stopped directly at the underside of his brow, or it did burn his skin under the brow, but the brow grew back somehow. It looks weird. Because the brow is still present, there's less contrast to draw your attention to the scar and subconsciously say 'this isn't normal'.

Here are two other edits I did:

This is what I'm talking about when I say the brow (and height of the scar) drastically changes how Zuko looks. He looks so much closer to the animated version now, but he's still free to emote because his eye isn't affected at all, and his brow could still move normally. It also helps give him that harsher appearance, which people tend to say exists with the ponytail hairdo! But it would also work great with his long hair look, which would soften everything anyways.

(For the second edit, I also tweaked the ear a lil bit.)

When it comes to the colours of the scar, I'm undecided. In the OG show, they probably had to change the colour of his scar so much to indicate there was even a scar in the first place, because it would've been annoying to add tons of line detail for the animators to deal with instead. At the same time, the live-action show could tone it down a lil bit. But it doesn't look bad, per se.

The third observation I have is Zuko's ear. If you look in the animated show picture above, his left ear (your screen right) is smaller than his right ear, because it's scarred over. I don't think it's practical to have that kind of effect in the live-action show, because it would mean even more CGI (they'd literally need to paint out the real ear, and then replace the ear with a digidouble ear). But if you look at the trailer capture, you'll see the scar colour doesn't even extend to his ear at all!

If you open the picture in photoshop, the scar around his eye and cheek has a reddish hue, but the skin on his ear is the same colour as the skin that isn't scarred. This isn't a cherry-picked sample, the hue is the same in each entire area. As soon as you stop sampling the ear and start sampling the cheek, it drops right into the reds/oranges:

I think the ear coming away unscathed might be a little unrealistic too, considering the scene where Zuko is burned by Ozai currently looks like this:

The fire is obviously going around the sides of his face, not just going directly into it and then bouncing away. It's kinda brushing around. With a scene like this I would expect the ear to have some kinda damage. Is it because they toned down the overall scar so much that any apparent damage on the ear would become nonexistent? Maybe. But right now, the scar just looks like a blob on his face, instead of a spot where fire actually flowed around.

And I just wanted to point out something else I've seen, not in the trailer, but in the fandom. Because I'm already tired of seeing it, it's dumb. Basically I was on a forum and I saw someone say 'if you want something like Two Face from Batman, this is the wrong property to ask for that'. I thought it was super unreasonable because nobody is asking for this:

And nobody is having a 'meltdown', like some other dishonest peeps are saying! People are just mildly upset that the actor's skin looks like it's been coloured in with dye, and there's almost zero hypertrophy to actually telegraph the fact that it's definitively a scar.

So those are my thoughts.. The scar is barely serviceable, they kinda dropped the ball imo.

Don't get me wrong, I totally understand the ~hollywood need~ to make things super toned down so you can see actors' glamorous faces or whatever, but some additional scar makeup wouldn't have harmed his ability to emote or anything. They didn't even need to do anything to his eye.. Just fix the overall first impression the scar gives, which would've worked with the stuff I mentioned above. So I'm not sold on 'it's to show the actor's face better' as an acceptable reason. It's an explanation sure, but it's just not good enough to justify the difference to me.

#if there's another explanation for this i'd love to hear it! i follow some of the news but i miss a lot of interviews/press junkets #atla #atla live action #zuko #atla zuko #atla netflix #dallas liu #burn cw #injury cw #body horror cw

[winxanity-ii]

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃

╚»★«╝ 𝐊𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐨𝐧 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst?? horror?? idk y'all

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit(?) i don't really know, i only count explicit for sex tbh

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, on your way home, you encounter the big bad wolf.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 3.5k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: Y'all know what time it is...it's time for the annual fall in love with The Originals/The Vampire Diaries season😫❤️❤️ .

★·.·´ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌ 🇴‌🇷‌🇮‌🇬‌🇮‌🇳‌🇦‌🇱‌🇸‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The last dying rays of the sun slanted through the trees, casting long shadows that merged into the encroaching darkness. The woods are a sanctuary, a place where the raw beauty of nature soothes the soul. Ancient trees stretch towards the sky, their branches etched like dark veins against the orange-red backdrop of the setting sun. The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves permeates the air, filling your nostrils with that comforting, earthy aroma. But even amidst all this peace, there's a knot of tension in your belly, an unsettling feeling you can't shake off. You pull your red cloak closer around you, its hood draped over your head like a protective shroud. Your basket swings lightly against your hip as you navigate through the twisted roots and overgrown bushes that make up the forest floor.

You're humming a soft tune under your breath, an old lullaby that used to put you to sleep as a child. The melody mixes with the sounds of nature, harmonizing with the distant call of a nightingale and the subtle rustle of leaves in the breeze. The song serves as a bridge between you and the forest, inviting you deeper into its labyrinthine depths.

But then, you hear it—a stifled sob, followed by a low, cruel laugh. It cuts through the peaceful backdrop like a serrated blade, jolting your senses. Your pace quickens, each step heavier than the last, guided by the haunting echoes that grow louder as you approach the source.

Emerging from the dense underbrush, you come into a clearing and freeze. A nauseating scene unfolds before you. A young boy with tousled brown hair, probably around 12 years old, is pinned between two figures. He's dressed in what you can only guess were once clean, mage-appropriate clothes, now marred with dirt and blood. The skin around his neck is soaked in red, where the female vampire's fangs are currently lodged. Her fiery red hair contrasts sharply with the pale, death-like complexion of her skin and her eyes glow a dull, hypnotic red.

On the other side of the boy, a male vampire stands with golden-blond hair framing a face that would be handsome if it weren't twisted in a grotesque expression of delight. Blood smears his lips and chin as he momentarily lifts his mouth from the boy's other shoulder, clearly having had his share before you arrived. The boy's face is a mask of pure agony, eyes clenched shut, as though willing himself to wake up from a nightmare.

The vibe is sickening. You can practically taste the malevolent glee coming off of the vampires; they're reveling in the power they have over their young victim.

Anger flares within you, making your body tremble uncontrollably for a moment. Your fingers clutch the handle of your basket so hard your knuckles turn white. Every instinct you have screams at you to do something, to end this abomination of a scene right here, right now.

The moment the blond vampire's eyes lock onto yours, you don't hesitate. Your focus sharpens, and an invisible force guided solely by your intent hurls the two vampires away from the boy. They're thrown back as if hit by a gust of hurricane winds, the blond male tumbling into a tangle of branches and shrubs, and the redhead landing on her back with a thud.

Quickly, you stride over to the boy, who's now lying limply on the ground. Gently placing your hand on his chest, you invoke a healing stasis combined with sleep paralysis. A translucent bubble encases him like a protective cocoon, and with another thought, you elevate him high above the trees. Safe, at least for now.

The male vampire regains his composure and lunges at you, fangs exposed, snarling like a wild animal. But before he even gets close, you whip around, and your thoughts hurl him to the left, violently crashing him into a thick cluster of trees. Simultaneously, your right- hand reaches out to target the female, gripping her throat with an invisible force.

Closing your left hand into a fist, you hear the male vampire let out a pained grunt. His body starts to stretch, elongating painfully against the trunk of a tree. It's like he's being stretched on some invisible rack. "Stay put, bloodsucker," you hiss, eyes flicking momentarily to ensure he's immobilized.

Swiveling back to the redhead, who's struggling to get to her feet, you tighten your invisible grip around her throat. Slowly, your unseen force lifts her off the ground. She claws at the air, trying to dislodge your psychic grasp. "Having fun yet?" you taunt, pulling her closer. "Is this how you get your kicks? Feeding off defenseless kids?" Your words drip with contempt.

As you lock eyes with her, your own eyes start to shimmer, cycling through an array of soft pastel colors. Then they darken, a kaleidoscopic storm settling into a focused, threatening hue.

You tighten your psychic grip around her throat, just enough to make her gasp for an air she doesn't need. Then, with a flick of your wrist, you toss her aside like discarded trash. As she hits the ground, you splay your fingers wide, and her body obliges, stretching out into an awkward starfish position, each limb pinned by an unseen force.

"Let me go, bitch," she hisses, fangs on full display and eyes ablaze in a menacing red. She struggles, but the force you've wrapped around her holds firm.

You laugh, but there's no humor in it—only the promise of reckoning—as you stroll over to her. "Look at you, all defenseless and pinned to the ground. Not so high and mighty now, huh?" The words come out almost playfully, but the undertone is anything but.

Dropping your gaze, you lift your foot and stomp down on her chest. She manages a strained cough, then laughs weakly. "I-Is that all you've got?"

You make a pouty face, letting out a mock-whiny, "You didn't even let me try," but it shifts into a dark, knowing smirk a moment later.

Confusion flickers across the vampire's face, quickly replaced by realization and horror. She coughs again, more violently this time, and blood splatters from her mouth. "W-What the fuck d-did you do to me?" she manages to sputter out.

With slow deliberation, you lift your foot. A vibrant green vine emerges from your sole, its other end already embedded into the vampire's chest. As you step back, the vine detaches from your foot with almost graceful ease, like a paintbrush lifting away from a canvas after the final stroke. For a few seconds, the vine quivered in the air, curling and uncurling before morphing into a sharp point and plunging deep into the vampire's chest.

"Son of a bitch! When I get out of this, I'll rip you apart!" the male vampire shouts from his tangled prison of branches and unseen magical restraints. His words are a raw snarl, each syllable promising violence and retribution; it's almost like he's trying to fill the clearing with his rage, as if that could free him.

As you hear his threat, you can't help but shoot a sidelong glare at him, your face hardening into a steely expression.

"Let her go, you witch! I swear, if you touch her—"

With a scowl forming on your face, you raise your left hand and open your clenched fist. "Shut it!" you shout. At your command, a brutal force grips the male vampire's throat, and in a sickening moment, you can see his eyes bulge as his voice box is violently torn out. Blood spews from the gaping wound and his mouth; he tries to scream but can only gurgle, his face turning a ghastly shade.

His vampiric healing abilities kick in, struggling to close the wound, but you're one step ahead. A faint golden shimmer coats the wound, preventing it from healing and causing it to reopen repeatedly, like an endless loop of pain. It's a grotesque imitation of Prometheus's eternal punishment, his wound ever-renewing. His screams turn into agonized gurgles.

Shifting your gaze back to the redhead vampire on the ground, she's writhing in agony and terror. Her eyes, now filled with a horrifying realization, dart between you and her tortured partner.

Falling into a squat, you lean over to stroke her fiery red hair. "Aw, don't worry, sweetie," you coo, your voice dripping with mock concern, "your turn is coming soon."

The moment the last word leaves your lips, the female vampire lets out a spine-chilling screech that could give La Llorona a run for her money. Despite your hold on her, her back arches, lifting a few inches off the ground as if defying your magical constraints.

Just then, the green vine that had earlier embedded itself into her chest sprouts explosively from every crevice of her body. Like tendrils of some grotesque plant, they shoot into the soil beneath her, pulling her several feet below ground level. The vines thicken and pulse, absorbing the flowing crimson from her body. Almost instantaneously, an array of dark red flowers bloom along these vines, filling the air with the faint but unmistakable scent of blood.

"Ah, Florae Sanguinis," you hum appreciatively, recognizing the rare mystical flowers that have just bloomed. "Excellent for age-defying spells, I've heard."

With a satisfied nod, you pluck a few of the blood-red blossoms and drop them into your basket. As they fall, the basket glows faintly gold, signaling the activation of your dimensional storage. The flowers vanish from sight, safely tucked away for future use.

Standing up, you catch sight of the male vampire still writhing in agony, suspended in the trees. "Oh," you muse, a playful lilt in your voice. "My bad, almost forgot about you."

With a casual flick of your left wrist, you undo the magical bindings holding him in place. But instead of transforming him into another Florae Sanguinis like his partner, he combusts spontaneously, reducing to a spray of blood and entrails that splatter all over the oak tree he was pinned to.

As you stroll towards the floating protective bubble holding the young boy, you talk to yourself, pondering your decision. "Hmm, no need for another Florae Sanguinis here," you muse. "I kinda want this spot to be my secret garden. Having two in one spot would make this place way too popular, and I like my little secret places free from the prying eyes of the curious and the greedy. One flower's enough to keep it mysterious but not make it a local tourist trap for every wannabe spellcaster."

Satisfied with your logic, you continue on, leaving behind a gruesome but strangely beautiful scene.

You wave your hand and the bubble hovering above dissolves, its shimmering essence sinking into the petals of the lush flower bed you had just conjured. As the boy gently settles onto the floral cushion, you squat beside him to inspect his condition. A hum of approval escapes your lips as you note the absence of any vampire-inflicted wounds. Tsking at the torn and blood-stained state of his clothes, you flick your wrist and watch as the fabric seamlessly mends itself, good as new.

Gently, you brush your fingers against his cheek while whispering an incantation. His eyelids flutter open, and with a gasp, he's awake. Initially disoriented, his eyes fill with tears as he scuttles backward, shaken and fearful. A brief flashback races through his mind: he was following his clan's designated trail when he was yanked into the woods, bitten and violated by two vampires.

You make a soothing noise and extend your arms, pulling him gently toward you. The tension in his small frame loosens almost instantly as he nestles under your chin, enwrapped in a warm, comforting aura. Rocking gently, you shush him, repeating that he's safe now. His breathing slows, and the tremors subside.

Gently pulling away, you cup his face with your hands and wipe away the remnants of his tears. "Are you okay, little one?"

His eyes lock onto yours for a moment before he breaks down again. "I-I was w-walking... v-vampires got m-me... s-so scared."

"Shh, it's all right," you coo, leaning in to touch your nose to his forehead gently, a traditional act of endearment witches often share with young members of their community to console them. Recognizing the familiar gesture, one he's experienced from the elders in his own clan, the boy sighs and leans into the touch, finally allowing himself the relief of feeling safe.

You pull back, locking eyes with him once more. "They can't hurt you anymore," you reassure him, your voice tinged with a gravity that leaves no room for doubt.

With the young wizard finally calm, you rise to your feet and extend a hand to help him up. A flick of your wrist summons his dropped satchel, mending any damage it sustained during the ordeal. You drape it carefully over his shoulder, making sure it sits comfortably.

Reaching into your enchanted basket, which glows faintly gold as your dimensional storage activates, you pull out one of the freshly plucked Florae Sanguinis blooms. A protective bubble forms around the mystical flower. "I suspect some members of your clan will be thrilled to have this," you say, handing it to him. "If you break the bubble under a full moon, the flower will multiply, and its magic will intensify."

His eyes widen with delight, and he nods, soaking in every instruction you offer.

Your smile returns, softer this time, as you use your hand to smooth down his hair. You bring your thumb up to your mouth and let one of your canines elongate momentarily into a delicate fang. You prick your finger, and the blood that wells up glows with a faint shimmer of gold. Carefully, you reach over and draw a cross on his forehead, completing it with a circle that surrounds it and pressing a small dot in the center. The symbol pulses softly, shifting between shades of red and pink, warming the skin beneath it and radiating a soothing energy.

Feeling the comforting heat, the boy's eyes light up, and he gives you a toothy grin before bowing. "May your path forever be lit with the light of a thousand stars," he says, his voice tinged with an innocence that makes the words resonate more profoundly.

With a final, affectionate pat on his head, you gently turn him toward the path ahead. "Get home safe, little one," you tell him, a note of tenderness coloring your words.

He nods vigorously, a look of newfound confidence in his eyes, and takes off down the path, which glows with a faint, ethereal blue. As he runs, your blessing activates into the shape of a blessed deity that manifests at his back—a goddess draped in celestial robes, her eyes like twin moons and her hair a cascade of shimmering stardust. She whispers encouragements into his ear, her voice a melodic hum that only he can hear, while also alerting him to any impending dangers on his route. With her divine guidance, his journey promises to be as smooth as the still surface of a moonlit lake.

Relieved that the young wizard is now safe and under divine protection, you let out a sigh, the tension leaving your shoulders. As you pivot, prepared to get back to your own affairs, you find yourself startlingly face-to-face with a man whose presence feels almost as ancient as the woods around you. His eyes are an arresting shade of blue that seem to glow with untamed ferocity, a sharp contrast to his immaculately styled blond hair. He carries himself with an air of aristocracy and danger that seems to defy time. There's something unnervingly familiar about him, something from bedtime stories meant to both enchant and terrify young children.

"Klaus Mikaelson," you finally speak, putting a name to the myth standing before you.

Klaus offers a teasing coo in response, his lips curving into a smirk. "What are you doing out in the woods so late, Little Red?" His gaze drops to your red cloak and then to the basket in your hand, filled with items only those in-the-know would find intriguing.

Ignoring the way you shiver at the nickname, you can't help but be cautious, your upbringing filled with tales of the infamous Mikaelson family, stories laced with blood, betrayal, and the sort of magic that could level entire villages.

"I could ask you the same," you counter, your voice steady despite the caution flaring within you. "You're far from New Orleans."

A dark chuckle escapes Klaus as he begins to circle you, maintaining several feet of distance between you. The effect is unsettling, like a predator sizing up its prey. "Well, you see, I have some business to take care of. A few of my henchmen have gone missing, suspiciously so. Word has it, some witches are taking matters into their own hands."

Your heart skips a beat. You pull your red cloak a little closer to your body as if the fabric could shield you from his piercing gaze. "I wouldn't know about that," you say cautiously. "I don't venture near the French Quarter anymore. Not since they've put that constraint on witches. Can't use our powers without some Council's approval."

You keep your recent trip there to yourself, recalling your rendezvous with an old friend, Davina, who shared some valuable information. The world seems to narrow as you glance back up, and a small gasp leaves you. Klaus is now standing just a few inches away, his sudden closeness catching you off guard.

Klaus coos softly, the mocking tone evident in his voice, "Did I scare you, love?"

His proximity is electric, challenging, and for a moment you forget the cautionary tales, the warnings, the age-old stories of treachery that are synonymous with his name.

You recover quickly, swallowing down the involuntary fear. "I'm not easily scared," you reply, locking eyes with him. "Especially not by wolves masquerading as men."

"You wound me, Little Red," Klaus teases, his eyes twinkling with mischief. But in the blink of an eye, the atmosphere changes. His hand shoots out, capturing your neck and forcing you to tilt your head back, your gaze locking with his. Your eyes widen, your body trembles; you're caught in the snare of his power.

As if to soften the severity of the moment, he lets his other hand drift up to caress the side of your face. His finger traces the contours of your cheek, your jawline, a strangely tender action that stands in stark contrast to the grip he has on your neck. "You see, I'm not just any wolf," he says, his voice lowering to a rumble that reverberates through you.

"I'm the original big...bad...wolf," he purrs, his eyes suddenly glowing a fierce gold. Black veins creep across his face, a dark web of power, and his fangs drop—both the elongated canines of a vampire and the deadly incisors of a werewolf.

In a split-second decision, you channel your own latent power, surging it up from your core and pushing it outward. The spellwork you learned from years of study—scribbled into the margins of old grimoires and whispered to you by wise mentors—echoes in your mind. With a wordless chant that you form in your thoughts, you create a shimmering shield between you and Klaus.

For a moment, just a heartbeat, his grip falters and his eyes widen in genuine surprise. You use that instant to break free, stepping back and regaining your composure. The tension in the air is palpable, but it's different now. It's not just him circling you; you've marked your own space in this dangerous dance.

You hold Klaus's gaze, a shiver trickling down your spine as you sense the weight of his ancient, predatory aura. Your hand tightens around your basket, grasping it like a lifeline. "Stories have beginnings and endings, Klaus Mikaelson, but some also have cautionary tales."

His eyes narrow slightly, sensing the trepidation laced within your defiance. "Ah, but those are the best kinds, aren't they? Because cautionary tales are born from danger, and danger," he leans in just a hair closer, lowering his voice to a silky whisper, "is oh so thrilling."

Finally, he steps back, putting a physical distance between you that does little to break the tension stretching taut as a wire. "Until we meet again, Little Red. I'll be looking forward to reading the next chapter."

He turns, his form melding seamlessly into the shadows, and you're left standing there in a clearing that suddenly feels too big and too small all at once. It felt like ages before you were sure he was gone to drop your shield. You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you were holding.

As you walk away, the forest around you settling into nocturnal life, you can't shake off the unsettling feeling that's crawled under your skin. Yes, your story with Klaus Mikaelson has twisted roots and uncertain paths—paths that you're both eager and afraid to tread.

i couldnt stop myself 😭😭

#klaus mikaelson #the originals x reader #the originals #the originals x you #the originals x y/n #klaus x reader #klaus x y/n #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus michaelson #‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-klaus mikaleson

[gattnk]

When the ambitious Miki and the conformist Gas cross paths, it's pretty much an "unstoppable force VS unmovable object" situation.

Last but not least, a couple of fan favorites! My redesign process was very different for each one: I did a quick sketch of Gas on day one, as soon as I was done with Raf and Sulfus, and I pretty much stuck to it. Meanwhile, I couldn't form a clear thought for Miki until my AFapril comic prompted me to do it! Now, about that creative process:

While Miki's canon designs are significantly different, Gas is pretty straightforward. Even then, I decided to work on unifying their respective color palettes first, and then focus on their redesigns proper.

I went with their Prisma Fly colors as their new main colors. To contrast the orange better, I switched Gas' purple for a washed-out blue, and included black and white for variety's sake. In Miki's case I went with three shades of forest green and included key lime green since it's closer to yellow and pops out nicely; I also included desaturated browns and off-whites to visually frame the key lime better.

Since Miki is characterized as somewhat non-conforming in the comics, I doubled down and updated her parka jacket to something more extreme-sports looking (thank you @haloheadhater for helping me figure that one out!), added thick denim jeans to the mix and the toughest pair of timber boots I could come up with.

Gas is the kind of character that tries to look tough (despite being the least intimidating devil ever), so I added a biker's denim vest to crank the Cool Factor™ to the max. There's little difference between his canon designs, so blending them together was easy enough. I tried to preserve his iconic Emo Frog shirt with a minimalist design, all derived from triangles to keep in line with the devil design philosophy I've been keeping so far.

I wanted to reflect Miki's dragonfly mascot in her overall design, so I gave her wings a peculiar shape. While adult angels may have multiple pairs, Miki's wings are a single pair: I took inspiration from pennant-winged nightjars for her wing design.

Officially, Gas has the smallest wing-to-body ratio of the entire cast. He can still fly just fine, no worries, but he took more naturally to phasing walls and floors around the school to get by. My biggest challenge was his horns and wings, specifically finding the right shade of orange so they would not blend with his ginger hair. I didn't want to use red for his hair, nor blue for his horns/wings like his original designs, so I had to put my eyes to the test there.

Mascot placement once again comes with meaning: Gas' tomato frog may have bright and intimidating colors, but it's actually cute, round and inoffensive; it rests right over his heart to represent his true nature. Miki's green darner dragonfly hangs at the end of her braid: braids are often associated with bravery, wisdom, patience or experience in character design, and dragonflies are renowned for their maneuverability; this way, Miki's core traits are in the end held together by her ability to adjust on the fly.

There it is! the entire main cast of Angel's Friends, redesigned :D I've also been working on the humans and teachers, but it'll be a while before I finish those. For now my attention is almost entirely on my AF rewrite fic. Shameless self-promotion aside, I'm really proud of my script and characters, and I really appreciate it when I get comments/kudos/hits. So far everyone's been really kind and excited and I definitely share on the enthusiasm!

I'll Fly With You (rewrite fic) Art masterpost

#my art tag #angel's friends #angels friends #character redesign #IFWY #miki #gas

[sombrathedragon]

Ranking all Wof Cover (except winglets and graphic novels) because I’m bored :p (Some spoilers!)

#1: The Dragonet Prophecy. Personally, I think it’s cool, although I think it could have a little more action on it. In the drafts, it was gonna have Queen Scarlet’s arena, which I think would’ve been a cool edition to the cover, but sadly they removed it. 7/10

#2: The Lost Heir. Ok this one is awesome. It really shows Tsunami’s personality in her pose and it has so much action yet not to much. But they did forget to put the royal markings on her wings, which kinda makes her seem a little less important if you’re just looking at the cover. Originally it was gonna be called “The Last Heir” which sounds epic, but then again Anemone is in the book, so it wouldn’t make sense. 9.5/10

#3: The Hidden Kingdom. One of the coolest covers, I’m a sucker for the wings contrasting with the background (which is a reason I love The Dangerous Gift) but to be honest, Glory just kinda doesn’t stand out. Even with Tsunami being blue on blue, she stands out while Glory just… doesn’t. I think it would be cool if we saw her using venom, and if you say “But she doesn’t use venom in the Rainforest in the book!” Boy are you gonna do a flip when you see The Lost Continent. 5/10.

#4: The Dark Secret: Honestly… just kinda… meh. I mean sure Starflight’s pose is cool, as it shows how the Nightwings are supposedly these evil mind reading future seeing beings that are going to rule the world, but it’s not really as cool as Tsunami’s or Clay’s. If anything I think the background makes up for it. The blue cloudy sky contrasting with the dimly red lit stone just catches my eyes immediately. 5/10.

#5: The Brightest Night: I love this cover. Mainly because I love the way Sunny is portrayed on it as she is a hybrid but also I love the three moons in the background and the Sand Kingdom. Sunny’s golden yellow on the black night in the back is just perfection to my eyes. 10/10.

#6: Moon Rising: I adore this cover. And not because Turtle is on the back but that’s a reason I love it as well. Moon having that green fade on her wings is just really cool imo, and this is one of the covers that actually takes place in the book. I think it would be a little bit better if MoonWATCHER was look in the direction of the MOONS, but other than that I love this cover. 9/10.

#7: Winter Turning: The draft for this wasn’t going to have purple on it, and to be honest, I’m glad they added that. The purple really brings out Winter and the Ice Kingdom, and it really makes everything pop. 10/10.

#8: Escaping Peril: Ok so maybe I’m a sucker for red on blue but Peril’s cover is just, wow. Her being chased by Scarlet is awesome, but I’m a little sad it didn’t happen in the book. (I think? Haven’t read this in like a year) My only complaint is that it doesn’t look like the Sky Kingdom in the back. Like if I first saw this cover and didn’t read WOF, I would think they’re flying over human city’s. 7/10.

#9: Talons of Powers: Don’t be bias about this one because Turtle's in it, Don’t be bias about this one because Turtle’s in it, can you tell that this is my favorite cover? Other than the fact that Turtle’s on it, I love the fight between Turtle and Anemone on the cover, giving away a key point, but not too much spoilers. I also love all the action on the cover, with Turtle soaring out the water. But they did forget Anemone’s royal patterns, so it’s not perfect. 9.9/10

#10: Darkness of Dragons: Qibli’s yellow on the sunset background is just perfect, alongside the dark pieces of stone from the ancient Nightwing city. His pose really shows how Qibli is brave and daring, but they did forget his snout scar, which is like the one thing that makes Qibli, Qibli. 8/10.

#11: The Lost Continent: Blue’s, well blue is the perfect contrast to the orange Pantalan savanna and the tan hives. Now, most people don’t like this cover because, “Blue doesn’t get his wings in the book!” or, “Cricket described him as blue, but on the cover he’s purple and green!” And my response to these are, 1: Tui actually was going to make Blue have no wings on the cover, but she thought he looked more pretty with wings than without. And 2: I personally love purple and green blue, It makes him look more related to Admiral and it makes him less of an eyesore imo. (If you seen the book description version of him on the wiki, you know what I mean). 10/10.

#12: The Hive Queen: Again, even though it’s yellow on yellow, Cricket still manages to stand out. I think it’s because Cricket’s more yellow, while the hive is more orange. I think the lights and the.. hole dens? Really just make the background so visible but not the main focus. 10/10

#13: The Poison Jungle: How does Joy Ang manage to put the same colored character on the same colored background and still make them stand out? Magic. Anyways, Sundews pose and the Poison Jungle in the back just really shows how fierce she is. Her small gold scales make her pop from the background, and I think the light behind her is the key to not have her blend it. 10/10

#14: The Dangerous Gift: Like I said in THK, I love wings that stand out from the background, so this is one of my favorite covers. Snowfall flying with Lynx by the coast where the Silkwings would fly in gives away so much yet so little. Also I love Snowfalls pose, no reason why it just looks cool :). 10/10

#15: The Flames of Hope. Honestly…. This cover is the worst in the Lost Continent Arc. Honestly Lunas pose is cool, and I think it would look really awesome if it wasn’t for the lighting of the flamesilk. That kind of blends her into the background at makes it a little boring to look at. But I do have to say I love Sky with Wren on the back and even thought Sky is described as pale, I love a red Sky. 6/10.

#16: Darkstalker: Darkstalker in on his mewing streak on this cover 🤫🧏‍♂️👌. I love his black on red background, but it’s boring. There’s nothing going on in the back, and he’s just standing there doing nothing. 6/10.

#16: Dragonslayer: I don’t have much to say about this cover. It has so much action but so little at the same time. It catches my eye but at the same time it doesn’t. I’m honestly very meh about this cover. 5/10.

#wings of fire #wof #the dragonet prophecy #the lost heir #the hidden kingdom #the dark secret #the brightest night #moon rising #winter turning #escaping peril #talons of power #darkness of dragons #the lost continent #the hive queen #the poison jungle #the dangerous gift #the flames of hope #Clay wof #tsunami wof #glory wof #starflight wof #sunny wof #moon wof #winter wof #peril wof #wof turtle #qibli wof #blue wof #cricket wof #sundew wof

[stubblesandwich]

MORE of your house of colour ted talk please, that was really interesting to read!!

Oh my gosh, I'm so happy you enjoyed my mini TED Talk/crazy person rant in your tags. 

For those who don't know what the HECK I'm talking about, I reblogged this fantastic little gif set and went off in the tags about how lucky we all are that Colin O'Donoghue happens to be a winter. 

So for those unfamiliar, everyone fits into a color palette or season, according to House of Color, which came about in the eighties and is based on color theory. The idea is that based on your skin's undertone, hair color, and eye color, you fit into a "season" of color. You're a spring, autumn, summer, or winter. Spring and autumn are on the warm end of the color palettes, and summer and winter are the cooler seasons. Think warm oranges in fall and bright, sunny greens in spring. Bright blues and berry pinks for summer, harsher whites, blacks, blues for winter. Makes sense, doesn't it? (Honestly, it took me a long time to understand it all, but once I did, it kind of broke my brain and I can't unsee these things. 🙃)

Well, I make the case that sir Colin O'Donoghue, our dear Captain, is a winter. And we are so damn lucky that he is. Do you know why? Because winters are the only season who can truly pull off black. 😎 And true red, actually! Because of the high contrast between their features and their cool undertones, winters look amazing in high contrast, vibrant cool colors. Those colors don't wash them out like they would other seasons.

Let's get down to the photo evidence, shall we?

Here we see Colin in all his smirky glory.

Now, we all know what this man looks like, but let me point out the obvious. Dark hair, light eyes. The contrast between the two is high, allowing him to pull off a more high contrast color, such as black, white, and that vibrant blue at his collar. His skin has a cool undertone (which is a whole other thing but just trust me there for now). You can see a more pink look to his skin, instead of a warmer yellow undertone. It's easier to see on people with lighter skin, but you can also determine undertone on folks with darker skin. So, there you have all the makings of a true winter.

What does that mean, in terms of clothing and picking out colors that will complement your features? Let's look at some pictures of Colin NOT wearing colors in his winter palette and maybe you'll see what I'm talking about.

Now, you'll never see me on this website saying this man looks bad in these photos. Obviously you'd be hard pressed to make Colin look unhandsome in anything you put him in. But just take a look at him wearing this muted wine colored shirt. His features don't pop at all, like they normally do. It's doing nothing for him. He'd actually be better off just wearing that white undershirt, in terms of making his features pop. And then the photo with the beige on the right is just... I mean, we can all see that's not good, right? We can all see those colors are doing nothing for him? Winters and beige don't mix. Beige is on a winter's no-no list.

It was actually difficult to find photos of Colin not wearing colors in his season. He actually does pretty well for himself, in that regard. He generally wears cooler colors and a lot of black. Here's another photo example though of him in a warm, olive green. Does he look ugly? Absolutely not. Would this sweater look better on him in black, or almost any shade of cool blue? Absolutely.

The olive color washes him out, actually. Let's compare this to Colin in a bright white and dark blue, below.

See how his eyes pop, and his skin doesn't look so washed out? The olive green sweater seen above is a warm green, which would look fantastic on someone in the autumn season. On a winter, though, it just doesn't work as well. And because I love Colin in blue, here are some more examples of him wearing his colors well.

Now, you might be saying to yourself, "Tori, you silly goose. You're forgetting about the magic of lighting benefits, and also the magic of facial hair, which is basically makeup for men." Sure, I'll give you that. Most men look better with stubble or a light beard, and lighting helps. I take you now to my next example of Colin not in his best colors.

The white undershirt and the blue tie are great for Colin! The rust brown suit, however, makes me feel yucky inside. I keep using this phrase, but you can see how this color is just not doing the man any favors. It doesn't help bring any vibrancy to his features in any way. Let's compare these now to (the moment we've all been waiting for) Colin wearing black and see if we can tell a difference.

Do you see how his eyes look brighter, and his skin tone doesn't look so muted and washed out? The skin beneath his eyes isn't as shadowed, either. People generally look healthier when wearing the colors that suit them best. Now, add in Hook's eyeliner to make those blue eyes pop, and you've got some real magic.

Winters also look great in red. (Think of Monica Gellar, also a winter, in her signature red from Friends.) Let us not forget Killian's fan favorite "red vest of sex", as seen below. Someone in the costume department really knew what they were doing with Colin, it must be said.

It's also important that they had him wear silver jewelry, instead of gold, as silver goes better with cool undertones. And how fortunate are we that they cast a man who naturally looks so good in black? The whole "little black dress" as a closet staple for women simply doesn't work for so many of us who just don't look good in black. The only season that truly shines in black is the true winter. ✊🏻 More power to them.

TL;DR Colin looks fantastic in black, and there's a scientific reason for it. Emma didn't stand a chance against not falling for Killian Jones, and neither did we.

Thank you for attending my TED Talk.

#colin o'donoghue #captain hook #killian jones #tori answers asks #house of color

[herbeloved82]

Art and Confessions in the Shadow of a Fireplace

Day 2 Prompt, even if late

In a windowless room the only source of light came from the lighted fireplace where aromatic woods burned for hours now, filling the air with their scent. Outside winter was awake and covering the lands with snow and ice. Its reign had begun and no one, not even the blood drinkers could ignore its power. 

However, inside, the fireplace casted its orange and red light on the most beautiful piece of art that nature ever created. On the carpet a young man on his knees, his body trapped in ropes the same color of blood and passion. 

The ropes began from the middle of his chest to create the first diamond shape. His white skin an evident contrast against their deep color. Between them his nipples were already hard and red, begging for attention that no one gave. 

Then the red lines of rope spread like ink all over his body. His arms are tied behind his back and the long lines run along his spine to wrap itself around his swan-like neck. His head is thrown back, so that long auburn curls fall on a cascade around him, like a halo. He’s a fallen angel made only for pleasure and to tempt humanity. 

His exposed throat carries fast healing marks left behind by hungry lips and sharp fangs. His half closed eyes, unfocused and veiled, are filled with lust and yet his red mouth doesn’t beg for more. He knows better than that. He knows that as long as he behaves he will have everything he craves and more. 

His breath, just barely labored, echoes like thunder in the stillness of the room, a testament of how worked up he is, but it is his hard cock, proudly standing between his parted legs, that is the center and fulcrum of all the attention behind the intricate work of ropes and skin. 

Like the rest of him his balls are caged by the firm constriction of the ropes, but the soft material didn’t touch his cock. “You look so beautiful like this.” A silky voice whispered and the young man moaned as a soft blush crept  over his cheeks. 

Such a beautiful and unexpected reaction to the simplest truth.  

“Stay still for me, Armand.” The same voice said again and this time Armand exhaled the air trapped in his lungs in a vain attempt to control himself. 

“Master.” He said between clenched teeth, fighting the need to add more, to beg. Not now, he thought. It is too soon. 

“You can stay still a little longer, my love. Can’t you?”

The man waited for a small nod of the beloved head before he went back to impress such beauty on a canvas. Even Aphrodite herself would be jealous of Armand, and he knew that. “I - I can, Master.” Armand spat the words out of his mouth like they burned. It was hard, so hard to keep focus on his position and stillness, even after centuries spent training himself to never show emotions, but when Marius was around, Armand would always lose control. He would lose himself. That was what scared him so much when they met again, to lose himself in Marius again, to lose what he had built to keep himself safe. 

Now Armand had learned that he could be his true self with Marius, he could allow himself to show vulnerability, to fall even, and Marius would be there to catch him, to shield him from everything and everyone so that he could simply be. 

“I know you can, my love. You are so good for me.” 

So good. Armand had never been good for anyone. He had been a tool, a weapon used to terrify Paris. A ruler over his coven. He had been useful sometimes. With Louis, to offer him shelter when he couldn’t be with the one he really loved. He had offered a way to rest, and Louis had grabbed it, but back he only offered a part of himself when Armand craved everything. He had been a soldier in the war against Akasha and even a Master to Daniel, but good, that he never was, not for anyone. 

Only Marius could undo him with just a word, for good really sounded like Marius was telling him he was enough. Enough to stay, enough to be loved like he craved. Armand whimpered, a loud and acute sound, and tears of blood stained the corners of his eyes with their presence. 

“Armand?” Marius called. “Is everything okay?” It was just a simple question, and yet Armand felt his voice shake with shame and rage when he answered, knowing he couldn’t lie to Marius, not in this scenario. 

“Amadeo.” He whispered. Only to say it aloud just a second later.  

Marius dropped the brush and in a moment he was near Armand, on his knees so that he could look him in the eyes. Never before he heard Armand’s safeword during a scene.  

His hands loomed over the ropes, ready to slash them to free Armand, but the moment his cold skin brushed against the central knots, Armand panicked even more and tried to scoot away from Marius. 

“Armand?” He asked again, his voice soothing even if full of worries. 

When Armand looked at him again he saw confusion in his bright eyes and bit down at the supple flesh of his lip.  Usually during scenes he wasn’t supposed to talk if not to answer Marius’ direct questions, however he didn’t know if he could use so little words now. 

“Can I talk, Master? Can we talk?” 

The worry inside Marius morphed into something else and he hardened his expression while nodding his head yes. It was clear Armand needed his Master now, he needed everything that Marius was to him. 

Armand looked at him, his eyes searching Marius’ very soul for something, anything that would tell him his lover was upset, but when he only read acceptance in his eyes, he dared to ask for one more thing. 

“I - I would like to keep the harness. I need this to be,” but then words died on his lips. He was still learning to ask for what he needed. 

“Do you need this to still be a scene, my love?” Marius wasn’t sure about this. Armand had, after all, called for his safeword and it was his duty to end the scene, however he sensed there was something more going on, and he needed to know what it was. In a leap of faith Marius decided to have faith in their relationship and in Armand knowing what he needed, so when Armand said yes, Marius agreed with a quick and yet deep nod of his head. 

Then Marius got up, re-establishing his dominating role with that simple gesture. He waited for Armand to find his balance again and glanced at the stains on his perfect skin. Armand looked able to calm down in the offered silence, but even when he stopped shuffling, he didn’t raise his eyes from the ground. 

Slowly Marius saw the tension slide away from his body as Armand sunk deeper in the right mindset. 

“Tell me what happened.” While the words were simple and they could have been spoken in any other contest, they had a deeper meaning and a demanding nature to them that would have been absent if Armand wasn’t still on his knees. 

Armand took a deep breath, even if he didn’t need it, and answered the question with all the honesty he could muster. The time of lies and misunderstanding between them was over and now only the truth had the right to stay. 

“I was never good for others. I was never enough for them to stay.” Armand admitted and there was a longing in his voice, so deep that Marius saw all over again the boy he had saved from the brothels and couldn’t remember what love was. 

“You taught me that. I thought I had learned my lesson when you didn’t come back for me.” 

The scent of blood filled Marius’ nostrils as his heart broke under the excruciating pain of the truth Armand was claiming. He didn’t need to see the red trails on Armand’s face to know he was crying.  

“But then I learned that you never stopped to watch over me even when I didn’t know, and I have told myself I hated you for that. It was easier to hate you when the only one I really hated was myself, for betraying your teaching, for accepting what Santino turned me into.” 

Marius felt the acidic taste of regrets burning his throat and mouth, like fire it exploded inside him and brought him close to tears but this wasn’t about him. This was about Armand and it was his duty to make him the whole focus of Marius’ attention. His own needs had to wait, above all when he knew he deserved this pain for his actions had been monstrous no matter why he did what he did.

“I was left behind so many times. Every time I loved, I had lost the person I needed, and I couldn’t come back to you, for you are the only one who can destroy me. Your rejection would be enough to end my life. When you realize I’m not who you want and you will walk away, you will take my life with you.” 

Blood flooded in Marius’ mouth when he bit his tongue. What good were words when it was actions that Armand needed to believe Marius would stay? And yet he wanted to throw himself at Armand’s feet, at his mercy, and tell him time and time again that he would never leave again. How could he when he himself barely survived to be separated from the one he so deeply loved? 

Armand was breathing hard through tears, trying in vain to calm himself and suppress the too many emotions he had bottled inside his soul for so long, but there wasn’t turning back now, the dem broke and his words were like a flooding river. They would purge his soul of all the pain he could never vent and finally leave him free from the burden he carried alone way too long, but in the meantime his whole body shook and Marius didn’t want anything more than to go to him and take him into his arms, where he belonged. 

“Earlier - earlier you said I was good for you, and for a moment you made me believe that I will be enough for you, that you will stay.” 

Armand’s last words echoed in the silent room and everything stilled. The pain was so deep it cut through Marius’ heart like not even claws could. It was a miasma that, like amber, trapped them in a timeless bubble of misery. 

“I will stay.” Marius said in the end, breaking the spell that subdued them. “I will always stay and I won’t ask you to believe me now, Armand, but I will show you, this, us, is forever for me.” 

For Marius had tried once already to live without him, and he wasn’t proud to admit that he failed miserably. Now he knew what his priority was, what it was always supposed to be, and he would live until his last moment honoring the second chance they were given against all odds. 

“You won’t.” Armand said, his voice just a whisper that Marius only caught because of his supernatural senses. 

“The moment you realize I’m not who you love, the moment you will understand what I did, you will leave me behind and I will be no more.” 

“What is the unforgivable sin you think you committed, what’s so monstrous in your eyes that you think I couldn’t forgive?”

Marius needed to know what was terrifying Armand. He for sure knew that Marius was well aware of his action in the centuries they were separated, and he couldn’t think about a single thing that Armand did he didn’t already forget, for forgiveness wasn’t his to give.

“I killed him. I killed the one you loved.” Armand said with resignation, like a man who knew once the truth was out, nothing would change his destiny of loneliness and annihilation. 

“Who? Who do you think I loved more than I love you?” Marius was confused. Of those he had loved no one had been dearer to his heart than Armand. Not even Pandora who he had loved tenderly for millennia, the last remaining piece of a past long gone that they had lived together. 

“Amadeo.” He spat with rage. “I killed your beloved Amadeo and in his stead only I remain.” Armand admitted at the end and then, like a puppet whose strings were cut, he fell on the ground and curled on himself. He wished the ground would open under him and swallow him whole. He couldn’t stay and see the disgust on Marius’ face, so he didn’t dare to look. 

Marius lowered himself to the ground once again, his red robe pooled around him like a lake of blood. Gently he lifted Armand from the ground and put him on his lap, then, with the ultimate care, he used his fingers to wipe away the tears from his eyes. 

“You are the most precious of all creatures to me, dear one.” He began, hands stroking every inch of his skin he could reach, giving Armand the comfort he so desperately needed, while taking comfort in the touch just as much himself. 

“There will never be another for me, but you.” He admitted aloud. He had lived longer than many and loved deeply, but now he knew his heart would always rest with the one in his arms, his one and only for as long as he lived.

Only now, when they finally found their way back to each other, Marius fully understood Seth and Fareed. Luckier than many, they knew since the beginning they could never be separated, for one was nothing without the other. 

“There is nothing to forgive, my love. You live in fear of something that doesn’t exist.” 

Armand moved in his arms, curling up again, making himself smaller and trying to hide his face in Marius’ stomach, deep into the softness of his robe. 

“How can you say this?” He muffled against the velvet, the cloth padded down his words. 

“Do you know how I always refer to you in private, when no one else is around and I think about you?” 

Armand shook his head. No, he didn’t know. He never dared to hope that Marius would think about him after they met again. He couldn’t handle the rejection or the hope. 

“I call you my Amadeo. You were always my Amadeo and always will be.” 

Armand stilled in his arms, ready to bolt. 

“Not because I discharge what you endured. I don’t belittle your pain and what you have to do to survive. I will never forgive myself for the pain you went through alone and I would never dare to deny it.” He explained. His voice was full of thousands of emotions and Marius didn’t even try to tone them down. 

“Then why?” Armand asked, unsure he really wanted to hear the truth. 

“Because for me you will always be the one I fall in love with. It doesn’t matter how much you changed, my love for you never diminished, if possible it grew stronger and deeper with the passing time.” 

“How can you say this?” 

Armand needed to know. He needed to dig and expose the truth to it bare bones, only then he would be able to trust that Marius wasn’t tricking him. 

“Because it is the truth. You are him and he’s you. You are one of the many forms my Amadeo took. You are the soldier who fought to survive, you are the painter who craves to learn, the man who needs to know and consume everything around him. You are my fledgling and Daniel’s Master. You are a friend and an advisor. You are all of this and more as Amadeo was and is, but above all, you are the man I love unconditionally.” 

This time, when Armand moved, Marius wasn’t ready for his actions, for he could never predict what his lover would do. They tumbled on the floor as Armand didn’t have his agility with his arms secured behind his back and yet he managed to push Marius so hard he was now lying on the floor, Armand awkwardly straddling him. 

“Prove it. Prove it to me.” He demanded and Marius couldn’t deny him anything, not after the words spoken between them. 

Marius turned his neck, offering him the delicate skin, beneath which his veins pulsed with blood, and when Armand bit him his whole body felt on fire and at peace at the same time. Marius didn’t hide his moans. He didn’t hide anything from Armand. 

At every sip memories unlocked for Armand, thoughts that were secrets to anyone else. Armand discovered through the blood how Marius saw him, what he thought when he was the only focus of his mind. He felt emotions that his Master never shared with anyone else, protecting Armand and the memories of their time together like they were Marius’ most precious possession. 

Everything was given to him and Armand became drunk on Marius’ blood, on the feeling of the love his lover really held for him, for blood could never lie. 

“Master.” He mumbled against Marius’ neck, the blood dripping from his sharp fangs. “Master, I need you.” It could have been the sluggish nonsense of someone inebriated out of their minds, but Marius knew better. 

This was bloodlust and need, all wrapped in his Armand’s beautiful package. It didn’t take long for Marius to tip them over, so that Armand was the one lying on the carpet, his beautiful body exposed to Marius’ hungry eyes.

Marius towered over him for a few moments, just the time to keep devouring Armand with his eyes, stunning in his harness, and to get rid of his robe before he covered Armand with his larger frame, hiding him from sight in case any jealous God was watching. 

The kiss that descended on Armand’s mouth was desperate, full of a hunger that Marius could barely contain now. Marius’ lips were demanding and allowed Armand no other choice but surrender. His mouth still tasted like Marius’ blood and he savored himself in his lover, adding more blood as sharp fangs pierced delicate skin. 

When his need to devour his lover was barely satiated, Marius helped Armand on his side, his long fingers probing against his opening, at first just brushing over his the delicate skin as his mouth kept pampering Armand’s body and shoulders with gentle kisses all over his flawless flesh. 

Slowly Marius prepared him, making sure not to cause pain with his claws. He marveled all over again as Armand’s body relaxed under him. 

“Please. Please stop torturing me.” Armand begged and Marius smiled against his neck. 

“Am I, my love?” Even his voice sounded deeper, stained with passion. 

“You are so cruel, the cruelest.” 

Then Armand couldn’t keep going for his words morphed into a scream of pure pleasure as Marius slid inside him, his body accommodating around his girth. Marius didn’t stop until every inch of him was inside Armand, and yet Armand needed more. 

Until dawn they made love, in the privacy of their room. Not even the call of the sun was strong enough to keep them from each other, so deep their need was. 

Only the heaviness of their limbs told them that soon they would be dead to the world, trapped in the sleep that plagued their kind, and once again Armand surprised Marius. 

“Stay. Stay inside me.” 

Marius wrapped himself around Armand’s body, offering him shelter in his arms, and as one they slept. 

Only the unfinished portrait would watch over their sleep, a silent witness to their renewed bond. As the fire died in the fireplace and darkness engulfed them, they slept aware that the other would stay, now and forever. 

END                           

#de romanus coven events #saturnalia event #marius de romanus #marius/armand #the vampire chronicles

[killuwumi]

a blazing past - diluc (small angst blurb)

a/n: suddenly im a writer of blurbs...queen of blurbville...idk what has come over me. anyway more prompts from pinterest...

warnings: angsty, curse word, mentions of diluc’s past, (beating up fatui so maybe violence but only if you really, really squint. nothing graphic.) not proof read, all lowercase (lazy)

"we all fucking burn in the end."

his brow furrowed as you watched him, looking from a distance as he walked to the dragonspine camp of fatui..is this what he always did when he was angry? isn't that, a bit much? 

his figure got smaller and smaller as you waited by the campfire he had lit for you, right on the outskirts of the sheer cold. you have to wonder what made the man that you see ravaging a camp of strong fatui agents, screams and grunts can be heard even where you are sitting. 

bright red and orange streaks in the sky, a bright contrast to the otherwise hazy and white blanket that covers dragonspine. one last dawn breaks forth before everything stops. the noise, the colors, the thoughts in your head all come to a stand still. 

diluc is walking back, claymore dragging as he wipes it off in the snow, red follows in his path as he pushes his claymore into the soft dirt next to where you sit before sitting down and leaning against it. 

"who taught you that, diluc?" your voice is soft, a calm soothing sound, strangely unafraid of the man who sits next to you. 

"i learned how to fight in my youth, if that is what you are asking." he brushed some of his hair out of his face, as he pulls down his hair and it sits like red waves on his back. the hair tie in his mouth as he re adjusts his ponytail.

you watch him, your hands holding a stick and poking at the fire, it feels a lot like what you're doing right now..poking at a fire. "no, diluc. i mean who taught you to think like that?" 

his hands rested at his sides as he raised his eyebrow, a small look of shock on his face. he can't recall the last person that asked him such a bold question aside from kaeya. 

"i'm not sure, i must've picked it up along the way somewhere. perhaps coping with my past in the only way i know how." his voice is dull, no longer holding the anger from before, but he isn't sad either. he speaks like he is telling you about the weather, and it almost hurts you. to hear a man so revered in mondstadt talk about his past in a monotone, unwavering voice.

a silence falls between you, diluc only looking down at his hand as it rests on the ground beside him, near to yours.

"i apologize for speaking so boldly earlier." your voice waivers as you speak, giving away the guilt you are feeling. as diluc looks up from his hands and to your face, his deep red eyes meeting yours. "it should be me who apologizes, it appears i have worried you and put on quite an animalistic display today. i am deeply sorry." 

diluc watches your actions carefully as he apologizes, you grasp the dirt beneath your fingertips and your brows furrow, it looks almost like you're holding back tears. "please do not worry. i am fine." diluc tries to reassure you, softening his voice. 

you feel so stupid, you shouldn't be crying, why are you the one getting emotional. you weren't even supposed to come on this commission. 

"it is okay to worry people diluc.." is all you can muster to say before curling up into your knees, burying your face. diluc just watches and reassuringly hums an "i know." 

#diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc #diluc ragnivindr x you #diluc ragnivindr #x reader #angst #diluc genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact diluc #diluc angst #diluc x reader #angst no comfort #killu writes #blurb #random writing