#i’m going to go ahead and say i’m the first person to ever create this au lol

[autisticlancemcclain]

“Lighthouse keeper, huh?”

Keith watches Shiro’s face carefully, because he’s not sure what to expect. Not anger — Shiro doesn’t do angry, not with Keith — but not exactly excitement, either. He’s not sure.

Shiro sighs, hanging his head. He doesn’t speak or move for several moments, only staring at his clasped ands, jaw set. Keith remains where he is, leaning against the bookshelf covered in stickers placed carefully by six-year old Keith, ugly as sin but impossible for sentimental Shiro to throw out.

Shiro braces his hands on his knees, sighing again as he heaves himself up and walks over to Keith. He cups Keith’s face in his hands and leans their foreheads together.

“Why do you always have to choose the least safe option, huh, kiddo?” His voice is a mix of tired and fond; strained and loving.

Keith shrugs. His hands tighten on Shiro’s shirt. “That’s what you did.”

The remark makes Shiro crack a smile.

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“Tyrant,” Keith says. The familiar tease — remnant from when Keith was younger and angrier and fought every choice Shiro made for him, regardless of whether it was the right one — makes Shiro huff a laugh, pressing a kiss to Keith’s forehead before pulling away.

“You have to promise to call me every week, okay? At least once. Lighthouses get lonely.”

“Okay,” Keith says quietly.

“And get decent groceries when you go out. Vegetables. Lots of them.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t do anything stupid, like go swimming in an icy ocean at night to chase a cryptid or something.”

Keith smiles a little. “No promises.”

Shiro sighs again, but it’s not as heavy this time. This time there’s an edge of acceptance to it.

“Just — be safe, kiddo. I can’t lose you, too.”

“Okay,” Keith says again, and he means it.

———

Lighthouse keeper. Lighthouse keeper.

What an insane job.

Is Keith qualified for it, technically? No. Not even a little bit. But after a little resume-fudging — okay, a lot of straight-up lying — and a myriad of people refusing to come near the lighthouse they swore was haunted, Keith landed the job.

“Look, it’s kind of isolating, okay?” says the coast guard, pressing a massive ring of keys into his hand. “Like, it’s not a hard job, really, except for during storms. You mostly just get to chill and check on the bulb every once in a while. But it can get…lonely.” She cuts him a sideways glance. “You know the story?”

Vaguely.

Keith shrugs.

“This used to be a real popular port,” she says. “People landing day and night, every day of the year. Used to be people manning the light every second of every day, groups of six or seven living here at once, like one big family. But then we shifted from using coal to using all that renewable shit, and the port stopped being so popular ‘cause there were less ships out to this area. Employees dwindled to just one guy, here by himself, every day of the year for decades.”

She pauses for a moment, drumming her hand on her car door. Keith pretends to be way less intrigued than he is.

“He went mad,” she says quietly. “No wifi or anything in the 60s, you know. Not a damn thing to do. He said he fell in love with the moon. Refused to retire, to resign. Stayed up in that tower until he was way too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms ‘cause he was just to frail to be out in those elements, y’know? But he wouldn’t leave the damn place behind. People say he never really left — that his ghost haunts the place. That’s why it’s been abandoned for so long.”

She shrugs, somber look melting off her face as quickly as it came. “Well, I’m sure it’s all shit, anyway. You’ll be fine. Good luck!”

Before Keith can so much as utter a single ‘hey, what the fuck’, she ducks into her car, slamming the door and speeding down the gravel driveway.

“Well, goodbye,” Keith mutters, shaking his head and walking down the cobblestone path to the door. “Thanks for that.”

Ghost, huh?

That sure as hell wasn’t on any of the waivers he signed.

He hopes it’s not an angry ghost.

———

Turns out Shirt had nothing to worry about. Keith keeps a radio on him once it gets dark, making his way up to the light when he gets word of a ship coming near, just to make sure everything’s okay. He doesn’t really do much except watch the sea, basically. He supposes he’ll be a lot busier in a giant storm or if something breaks, but as of right now, his biggest trouble is boredom.

And oh, what a trouble it is.

Turns out manning a lighthouse is boring as shit. 24 hours is a lot of goddamn time in the day, and there’s only so many times Keith can scroll through his phone or read a book before he goes insane. It’s almost never worth the gas money to drive into town, and besides he doesn’t know anyone, so mostly he just sits and mopes out the window or skips rocks along the shoreline (his current record is 20 skips in a row, which would be cool as shit of the every second of every day didn’t feel so blah). Even the calls with Shiro are too mundane to pique his interest — his brother’s life isn’t too exciting, either, although talking with Shiro still has its enjoyment.

There is something magical about the stillness of everything, though. Like, yeah, Keith would love it if he could maybe experience something that was even a little interesting, but he’s felt more peace in the past few months than he has his entire life.

(Not that that’s saying much.)

(But, still.)

He particularly likes sitting out on the balcony by the light once the sun has set, watching the stars. It’s gotten warm enough now that he can sit out for hours without getting cold, just watching the stars. He’s so far away from any city that he can see what feels like every star in existence.

The moon, though, is the most breathtaking of anything. Somehow it looks more breathtaking every night. This far out on the coastline Keith can see it with startling clarity, every dip and crater and crevice glowing a soft silver. Sometimes Keith is so captivated by it that he watches it from sunset to sunrise, feeling like barely an hour has passed.

It makes Keith feel a little less lonely, somehow. Like maybe his heart doesn’t hurt so bad.

———

Keith wakes up at two in the afternoon feeling strangely pleased.

It’s not because he slept in, or anything — he usually wakes up at around two, since he’s up all night manning the light — or even that his sleep was particularly restful. He doesn’t know why he feels so…excited? Maybe that’s not the right word. But he goes through the day feeling all floaty, humming as he cleans up his living space and dancing around as he makes food. The air buzzes with anticipation, although for what he’s not sure.

Closer tonight.

Keith freezes.

Huh?

He waits a moment, hands still int the soapy water. What was that? That was a strangely…foreign thought. What’s closer tonight? What does that even mean?

He shakes himself out of his stillness when he realises the water has started to go cold, continuing to scrub the dishes. Whatever. He has weird, intrusive thoughts all the time. It’s nothing new.

Full moon. Closer to Earth.

“Okay, what the fuck.”

Keith drops the dishes, yanking his hands out of the sink and taking a stumbling step back, stopping when he backs into the fridge. His wet hands drip onto the tile floor, steady plop sounds, one for every heavy inhale.

“Okay,” he tells himself, “I am going to dry my hands and then sit down on the couch. I am going to remain still for twenty minutes. If I hear a weird thought again, I am going to freak out. If not, I am going to assume my brain is trying to freak me out to make things more interesting, and I am going to dismiss this entirely.”

Twenty minutes later, when no weird thought occurs, Keith sighs in relief.

God, how bored must he be, for his brain to make up weird voices or whatever? Maybe he should take up another hobby.

Knit, or something.

Can’t hurt.

———

“Did you get lonely a lot, when you were deployed?”

Shiro hums; tinny through the shitty cell reception.

“Yeah, lots. There were a lot of long stretches where I felt like I might be the only person in the world. Made everything feel smaller. Why do you ask? You getting lonely?”

“Just curious,” Keith denies. He pauses a moment.

“Did you ever hear…voices?”

As soon as he says it, he knows he’s fucked up. The comfortable silence between them gets charged immediately, tense, and they may be hundreds of miles apart but Keith can physically feel the concerned look Shiro is sporting.

“Keith, maybe you should call a doc —”

“It’s not me,” Keith says hastily. “I’m just — I read a lot now, right? I don’t have much else to do. And I was reading one of the manuals lying around this place, and it said that if you experience any strange mental symptoms to switch out shifts, but I was just curious about what strange mental symptoms might be, I’m not actually —”

“Okay,” Shiro interrupts. “It’s fine. I believe. Just — stay safe, okay? Don’t be afraid to call for help, to call it quits. We can always figure out what to do next.”

Keith takes a deep breath, running his hands through his hair and smiling slightly. No matter what, he can count on Shiro.

“Okay.”

“Good. Love you, kiddo.”

“Love you, too.”

———

Keith squints at the sky. He tilts his head, considering, then squints harder.

“Maybe I am going crazy,” he says to himself. He hasn’t heard any weird voices since that one time, but he’s been feeling a lot of weird things in his chest, near his heart. For two weeks the night sky has felt almost…distant? Cold, even. But then he started to feel this growing pull to be outside more and more, the strong desire to stand and stare out at sea during the day, swaying with the waves, and to stare endlessly at the sky at night, drinking in the sights, watching the moon turn through it’s phases. The feeling is almost suffocating, now, like if he’s not outside he’s incapable of breathing. Everything feels so restless during the day, soothed only by the light of the moon.

“Or maybe I’m just dead bored. Who knows.”

———

Finally.

The voice startles him right out of a nap, tumbling off the couch onto a heap on the floor. He blinks himself awake fully, blearily checking his watch. His eyes widen.

“Shit,” he says, scrambling to his bedroom to grab his radio and sprinting up the stairs to the light. He’s late. He doesn’t seem to have missed any calls, thankfully, but still, he needs to be up there in case a ship’s radio is broken and they can’t call, or what if —

He freezes on the top step.

“What the fuck.”

Elbows on the balcony railing, leaning out facing the ocean, is a man. He’s tall, curly brown hair whipping around his angular face in the sea breeze, eyes closed in serenity.

Every part of him, faintly, glows silver.

“Took your sweet time,” he says, not opening his eyes. His voice is strangely familiar.

“What the fuck,” Keith repeats. He’s not sure how else to encompass the pure bewilderment he’s feeling.

Finally the man turns slightly to face him, lips curled in amusement and eyes opening to reveal a deep, dark brown that sparkles faintly in the moonlight.

“You’re supposed to be here when the sun sets, yes?”

Keith hums, nodding his head.

“Yep. I’ve officially gone insane.”

The man laughs, head thrown back and teeth gleaming white.

“Perhaps. Are madmen always so eloquently charming?”

“Figments of my imagination are not allowed to be mocking,” Keith snaps, because if he’s going to go insane it’s going to be on his terms, goddamnit.

“Good thing I have nothing to do with your imagination, then,” the man shoots back easily. He smirks. “You couldn’t come up with something as pretty as me if you tried.”

Keith scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Figures that his brain would cook up a bratty loudmouth with a bright smile to torture him. He’s his own worst enemy.

“I’m going to ignore you,” Keith informs the man. “If I don’t acknowledge you, then my brain will get the message and you’ll disappear.”

The man pouts. “Don’t be so callous. I only have three days, and then I’ll not see you again for a month.”

Keith ignores him. This lighthouse gig is kind of boring, sure, and yeah, he’s a little lonely, but it pays well and includes room and board. There’s not a chance in hell that he’s succumbing to his insanity and returning to fucking retail, or something, no sirree. He’s stubborn. He can wait this out.

The man sighs petulantly. “Of course you’re boring,” he mutters. “The last Moon Guardian got to fall in love with the lightkeeper, and I get someone who can scarcely believe I’m real. How unjust.”

The last lightkeeper… what was it the coast guard had said?

He said he fell in love with the moon…stayed up in that tower until he was too old to be manning it. Died in one of the storms.

“Oh, real original, brain,” he mutters to himself. “Real fuckin’ original, with the Hollywood spooky stuff. I need to stop watching horror movies before bed.”

“Ugh,” the man says, rolling his eyes. “You’re stubborn, aren’t you? I bet you will refuse to even acknowledge me for months or even years. I should have chosen to guard one of Venus’ moons when ‘Llura gave me the chance.”

“Nope,” Keith says, waking to the other side of the balcony. If his brain is going to torment him with ridiculousness, then he is not going to listen.

He’ll just wait it out.

———

For the eight hours of sundown, he manages. He keeps stubbornly away from the hallucination, ignoring the man’s huffing and puffing and muttering, firmly telling himself that he’s just overtired and that he’ll sleep in extra tomorrow morning so this won’t happen again. The very second the sun peeks above the horizon, Keith books it for the staircase, rushing for the door before the hallucination can so much as mutter a word. He runs straight to his bed and sleeps for sixteen straight hours, completely dead to the world. When he wakes, he convinces himself to check the balcony, and is relieved to find the man gone.

“See?” he reassures himself. “Just sleep deprived.”

He believes it all the way until sundown, when he jovially makes the climb up to the light, whistling to himself, only to trail into silence when the man stands there again, smiling smugly at him.

“Good evening,” he says.

Keith throws a book at his face.

———

“I despise you,” the man says nasally, glaring at Keith through bruised eyes.

Keith winces, dabbing blood off the man’s nose as delicately as he can with a damp cloth.

“Sorry,” he says, as genuinely as he can. “I really did think the book was going to go through you. How was I to know that you’re — well, that you’re real?”

“Because I told you!” the man cries. “Thrice!”

Keith huffs, stepping back as the man wrestles the cloth from his hands and starts to wipe the blood off himself. “Well, I said I was sorry, okay? Jesus.”

The man glares at him one more time before sighing. “I suppose I can forgive you.”

“Cool.” Keith shifts awkwardly. “Um, not to be rude, but who the hell are you? Now that I know you’re not my brain, it’s kind of super weird that you’re here.”

“I have many names,” the man says. “Luna, Alqamar, Dal. Moon. But the other Guardians call me Lance, so perhaps that is the name most suitable.”

“Okay,” Keith says, like this isn’t lunacy. “So you’re not just some random dude? You’re, like, the — moon? In the fucking sky?”

“Our spirits are one, yes.”

“Mhm. Great. That cleared up nothing.”

The man — Lance — raises an amused eyebrow. “What more must be made clear to you, Lightkeeper? The Moon and I are one. I am he who guards her, I am her. Is that so confusing?”

“You must know that it is,” Keith says flatly. “Like, up until right this second, I though the moon was a lifeless rock floating in the sky.”

“You’ve never felt the pull?” Lance asks softly. “Your kind has built your culture on her. Every one of you worships her in some way, ever group looks to her with some kind of fondness. You truly did not feel any of her pull, of her power? The power of any of the celestia? Have you not looked up and felt the breath knocked from your lungs?”

“I have,” Keith admits. Lance is right — the moon has always has spirit. Keith just didn’t think it was so literal.

“Good,” Lance says firmly. “There is hope for you yet, Lightkeeper.”

“Keith.”

“Hm?”

“That’s my name,” Keith says awkwardly. “Keith.”

“Oh!” Lance exclaims. He smiles, just as he did the first time Keith saw him, faint silver glow making him appear ethereal. “It’s good to meet you, Keith.”

Keith cracks a smile. This is weird as hell, sure — but didn’t Keith ask for something interesting to happen?

“It’s good to meet you too, Lance.”

———

“A friend?”

“Yep,” Keith says, popping the p. “All by myself and everything.”

“That’s great!” Shiro says enthusiastically. “How did you meet? Is he working for the lighthouse too, or does he work in town?”

“He’s a…traveller,” Keith says hesitantly. “Yeah. Only here three nights of the month, so I let him crash and we hang out.”

It’s as much of a truth as any. Keith has learned over the last few months that Lance can only come to Earth when the moon is closest — when it’s ‘full’.

“Your human denominations make no sense,” Lance argued. “I am always full, I’m just simply not always facing you. What is a ‘new moon’? I never change.”

Keith shrugged. “Do I look like I named the damn phases? People didn’t always get that, man. You looked like a crescent, you were called a crescent. Simple!”

“But you have advanced! You know the truth, now, so why keep the archaic language?”

“Lance. Dude. I am a lighthouse-keeper, and I made up all sorts of shit to get this job. I am not an astronomer.”

“Ugh. Humans perplex me.”

“Okay, mythical being.”

“…but I’m glad you’re not so lonely,” Shiro continues, snapping Keith out of his thoughts. “I was worried for a while there, kiddo.”

Keith snorts. “Thanks, Shiro.”

“Hey, don’t give me that! You have a tendency to get yourself into sticky situations and then make it worse by stubbornly refusing to back out while you can!”

“I do not,” Keith says, lying.

“Mhm, sure, kiddo. And I didn’t have to rescue you from a cult two separate times.”

“Whatever,” Keith says, scowling. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Yeah, yeah, goober.”

As much as Keith hates to admit it, life really does improve between Lance’s visits and Shiro’s calls. Both give him something solid to look forward too, and Lance’s visits especially often give him the element of physical touch that Keith didn’t realise he was missing.

Not that he’ll admit that.

But it’s nice, kind of. Even though Lance’s skin kind of feels like cool marble, and every time they hug it’s like the warmth is leeched out of him.

Not that they hug a lot.

Well, kind of. Lance is a touchy person. Moon Guardian.

Whatever.

———

“How does the guardian thing, like, work? In terms of science?”

Lance shrugs. “I haven’t the faintest clue,” he says easily. “My friend — he’s the Guardian of Phobos — he has a much clearer idea. It has something to do with quintessence, he supposes.”

“Quintessence?”

“Life force. Energy. The pieces that make up atoms.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that had a name.”

“Everything does. That’s why it exists.”

“Huh.” Keith sits with that for a moment. Not that he ever probably could, but he’d love to explain this to Shiro, to watch his nerd brain explode. It would be hilarious. “So do you guys just…spring to life when a new planet it formed, or something?”

“Oh, no,” Lance says, laughing. “I am only…twenty-five rotations around the sun.”

Keith raises his eyebrows. “Seriously? You’re my age?”

“Are you insinuating that I look older?” Lance teases. “Because if that’s the case, I can arrange to have you smited.”

Keith laughs.

Then he gets nervous.

Can Lance have him smited?

“No, no, you look great,” Keith says. Better safe than sorry.

“You look beautiful, really. It definitely makes sense that you’re the moon guardian, y’know? Like, if I had to picture someone who matched the moon, it would be you.”

Well.

That was certainly more than being ‘safe’.

Sometimes, Keith wishes he had even a little bit of a filter.

“You think so?” Lance asks quietly. Shyly.

“Yes,” Keith chokes out, picking a random star and praying to it that his blush fades. “I think so.”

A cold finger curls around his.

“I think you look beautiful, too.”

———

“Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith. Keith —”

“Shiro, piss off,” Keith mumbles, reaching blindly for a pillow to smack his brother with. “I’m tired.”

“Well, get up! This only happens thrice a year, and I want to make the most of it!”

Wait. Keith only knows one person — well, ‘person’ — who says thrice unironically, and it’s not Shiro.

“Lance?!” Keith yelps, startling awake. He shoots a confused look to the frankly ecstatic man before him, and then looks, even more confused, out his window. The sun is high in the sky, it can’t be more than noon.

“How are you here?”

“Supermoon!” Lance shouts excitedly. “Every four months, I am as close to Earth as I can possibly be, even closer then what you humans call a ‘full’ moon, and so I can be on Earth a full day cycle! It’s very exciting. I tried to wait for you to wake, but you slept so long. I couldn’t wait any further.”

“Ugh,” Keith groans, flipping back onto the pillows. “It’s early.”

Really, he’s as excited as Lance, but Lance can’t know that.

“Half the day has passed!” Lance argues. There’s a dip in the bed, and it’s Keith’s only warning before there’s suddenly a weight flopped on him.

“Oof.”

“You’re being exceptionally boring,” Lance says, pushing himself up on Keith’s chest to look him closely in the face. “I want to explore the town. I’ve always been too shy to go on my own. Take me, take me, take me!”

Keith fights off a blush, both from their position and Lance’s accidental innuendo.

“Okay,” he says weakly.

Lance cheers, scrambling off him and running out of the room.

“Hurry and get ready! I will try and make us breakfast — I think I understand how to use the stove!”

“Yeah, yeah.” It takes a moment for Lance’s second sentence to sink in. “Wait, Lance, no, stay away from the stove, you don’t know how fire works yet!”

———

Keith is going to collapse into particles. Really. That, or melt into goo on the ground.

It’s just that Lance is so cute.

Sure, he’s always beautiful. Ethereal, really. And he’s funny, and smart, and obviously very fascinating on principle alone.

But watching Lance flutter excitedly through the tiny coastline town, fascinated by every tiny, mundane thing?

Oh, Keith is not going to make it out of this one alive. Seriously. It’s straight out of that one scene in The Little Mermaid, except Lance is a million times more adorable, and knows what a fork is.

“Oh my stars, look at all these things! It’s all ridiculous! There’s no purpose for it! I want one of everything!”

“How do you even — wait,” Keith says, as something occurs to him. “Do you have, like, a house on the moon, or something? How do you store all your shit? Because you clearly have, like, clothes and stuff. And you understand some book references. Is there like a Celestial Guardians neighbourhood, or something…?”

“Oh, everything I have is stored with yours, only on the astral plane,” Lance says dismissively.

“Right. Okay,” Keith says. He pats Lance on the shoulder. “This would be one of those times where you say something that you think is very normal, but is actually batshit insane.”

Lance blinks. “Oh.” He pauses for a moment, tilting his head. “If you don’t know about the astral plane, it might be hard to conceptualise.”

“Let’s grab some food,” Keith suggests. Lance lights up at the suggestion, making Keith smile. Lance loves human food.

Once they’re settled at some random, tourist trap restaurant, Keith pokes Lance in the shoulder.

“Astral plane?” he prompts.

“Right,” Lance says, speaking through his bite of food which should be disgusting but is instead only endearing. “Quintessence is a very finicky thing. It exists and it doesn’t, in more places than are possible. It is, in many ways, the explanation for things that do not make sense.”

“So it’s not a specific material?”

“It is, it’s just also everything else that doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, that’s confusing.”

“Mhm. That’s what’s so fun about it! The most important parts that you need to know, though, is that every physical plane has an inphysical plane, and every single thing on those two planes are entwined on a quintessential level.”

Keith nods. “That means almost nothing to me.”

Lance laughs. “Well, think of you and me, yes? You are a human, a physical being. I am a Guardian of the Moon. I am physical only in certain ways, and only because my quintessence is tied completely with yours. We are mirrors to each other, connections to the two different worlds. Does that make sense?“

Keith stills, fork halfway to his mouth. Because, scientifically — no. Nothing about what Lance said is in any way something Keith can conceptualise.

But, like, on spiritual terms?

“That makes it sound like you’re my soulmate,” Keith says quietly.

“That’s a great way of putting it!” Lance says, smiling brightly. “Our souls are mated, yes. That’s one way of seeing it. Every part of our lives has been linked together from the moment we existed — I exist, as a Guardian, because you exist, because you are my tether to the physical plane — and will continue beyond that. Fascinating, yes?”

Keith nods numbly.

Soulmates.

For the second time since he’s met Lance, Keith thinks back to the coast guard’s story, back to the man who guarded the lighthouse and fell in love with the moon, who never retired, who stayed with the moon until his very end.

It sounds a lot less spooky, now.

———

Lance is still a bundle of energy when they finally head back to the lighthouse, sun beginning to set on the horizon.

“You’re my favourite human I know,” he says, pressing a smacking kiss to Keith’s cheek. “Thank you for taking me to the town.”

“I’m the only human you know,” Keith responds wryly, hyper aware of the spot on his cheek that Lance’s lips just touched.

Soulmates rings in his ears.

They climb the stairs in comfortable silence, lying down on the balcony next to the light and looking up contentedly at the stars.

“It looks far more wondrous on Earth,” Lance says quietly. He smiles. “Most things do.”

“Yeah?” Keith asks, just as quiet. “I would’ve thought you could see more out in space.”

“You can, but there’s something special about being down here.” He turns to face Keith. His smile has turned shy. “With you.”

Keith’s throat goes dry. He takes a deep breath, then reaches out a shaking hand, cupping it around Lance’s cheek. Lance leans into it.

“Lance,” he says, voice surprisingly steady. “Do you know what it means, for humans, to be soulmates?”

“Yes,” Lance whispers. “I was — I know what it means to me, at least. And I know what I hope it means for you.”

Slowly, Keith brushes his thumb across Lance’s cheekbone, back and forth. His skin has started to glow again, in tandem with the moon. It makes the brown of his eyes seem darker.

“What do you hope it means?”

Lance’s gaze flicks down to his lips. “That I am yours.”

“And what about me?”

“What do you want to be?”

“Yours, if you want me.”

Lance smiles, a flash of white in the darkness. “I do. I always have.”

“Always?” The words are barely a whisper, their faces so close together that their breath intermingles, tiny freckles over Lance’s nose shining like mini constellations.

“Yes,” Lance says, and then their lips finally meet, Keith’s eyes fluttering shut as he cradles the face of the Moon carefully in his hands, caresses the coolness of his skin. He breathes in the scent of his soulmate, and he knows he will go just as mad as the lightkeeper before him; desperately in love with the Moon.

Somehow, he doesn’t mind.

#been having some big feelings about celestial bodies lately if u couldn’t tell #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #friends to lovers #moon god lance #lighthouse keeper keith #i’m going to go ahead and say i’m the first person to ever create this au lol #modern au #mythological au #brown-eyed lance #keith & shiro #broganes #protective shiro #my writing #fic #longpost #soulmate au

[darthannie]

potential side effects

pairing: Jonathan Crane x f!reader summary: After giving you an experimental medication, Dr. Crane helps you get over your fear of intimacy.  word count: 2,143 warnings: 18+, minors DNI for the love of god, DARK, rough at points, I’m gonna go ahead and say NONCON, au where Dr. Crane has a private practice, abuse of power, reader is under the influence (kinda like the fear toxin), reader is sleepy, Crane doesn't take no for an answer, dacryphilia, inexperienced!reader, floor sex, spit, fighting back, a smidge of aftercare at the end. a/n: Please do not read if you’re not into what's in the warnings. I had fun experimenting with this one. I tried to be a little more thorough in the warnings. Better safe than sorry. I’m still toying around with Jonathan’s voice. Let me know if you want more of this kind of thing, or something different. I’d love to interact with you guys more!

Dr. Jonathan Crane had been treating you for the better part of a year and was in the midst of creating a new medication regimen for you. Your previous treatment plan was not working as intended, so it was back to the drawing board.

He selected you as the first person to receive an experimental medication. It was meant to be inhaled and doses were to be given during the time of the appointment. You didn’t necessarily know what to expect. He’d briefly mentioned that there may be potential side effects but didn’t go into much detail. 

You were nervous the first time you’d gone in to receive a dose. As you approached the door to his office you felt a lump begin to form in your throat. You knocked and after a moment he opened the door. Jonathan always wore the same thing most of the time. Today he donned a black blazer and slacks with a white button-up. His red tie was placed right at the center of his collar. His dark hair framed his face perfectly. He looks good today, you thought, better than usual. 

You exchanged your normal pleasantries and sat across from him on a couch. His office was spacious and dark. All the furniture was made of wood. In the corner, there was a big bookcase that consisted of books on fear, pharmacology, and different editions of the DSM. The DSM-4 was missing from the shelf, presumably on his desk. 

The room brought you a lot of comfort. It was the only place you ever got to see him. It felt like Dr. Crane was the only person in all of Gotham that understood you. It was his job after all. 

Soon the time came for him to administer the medication. 

“I’m going to spray in front of your face and you’re going to breathe in. It doesn’t take much to be effective.”, he said. 

You nodded and he sprayed. 

Your nerves subsided almost immediately and your mind became quiet.

“Any difference?”, he asked. 

“My mind is silent. All my racing thoughts have stopped.” 

“Good. That means it’s working. Some of the other side effects may begin to set in now.” 

He was right. Like clockwork, you started to get drowsy. It was like someone had given you a little too much Benadryl. It was hard to keep your eyes open. 

“Dr. Crane? Is this normal?” You couldn’t help but drag the ’s’. 

“It’s nothing to worry about. It’s just the medication working. How do you feel?” He seemed a tad on edge as he awaited your answer. 

“I feel all warm inside.” 

He then leaned back against his desk. “Any drowsiness?”

“Lots of it.” You chuckled slightly.

“That is normal.” He said, answering your question. “The medication was likely to make you feel tired.”

“Does it go away?”

“As your body builds up a tolerance, the effects will lessen. Now, I wanted to talk about the recent screenings you filled out. I would like you to check over them and rate their accuracy on a scale from one to five, five being very accurate.” 

He handed you a piece of paper and you looked it over. “Four.”

“Why not five?” His eyebrows furrowed. 

“Number six. ’S worse.” Question number six pertained to your interest in sex. More specifically how terrified you were of having it. 

It was a topic you were working on with Dr. Crane since it impacted your life so much. You were hesitant to mention it at first, but he assured you it was better to talk about it instead of holding it in. So, you spilled every detail. This included your inability to get yourself off and failed hook-up attempts.

You’d try very hard but when it came time for you to do the deed you shut down and found a way out of the situation. You hadn’t been getting out there much because, frankly, the thought of being intimate with someone was frightening. You didn’t know how you’d ever get over it. 

“Have you sought out any partners to help with your fears?”, he asked.

You took a moment to process what he said. “No, I haven’t. I can’t. It’s too-“

“Frightening, yes I remember you using that word.” He removed his glasses before continuing. “I think there’s a way I can help you with that. Personally.”

You yawned. “What do you mean by that doctor?” 

“I can make you feel better.” He looked down at you and brushed your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“How do you mean?” You could hear the apprehension in your voice. He ignored your question and reached down to the hem of your top, lifting it slightly. 

You pulled back a little too quickly and you got a bit dizzy. “I don’t know about that Dr. Crane. I can’t- I’m not well.”

He ignored you. “I think it’ll be easier if I just take you here on the floor.” 

He dragged you off the couch and onto the ground, sitting up. The hardwood was cold to the touch but started to warm under your body. He kneeled next to you. You tried to fight him as he reached for your sweater. He grabbed your wrists to stop you from thrashing around. 

“I would hate to have to tie you up, sweetheart.” You knew he would follow through so you did what he wanted. You stopped fighting back.

He neatly folded and put aside each article of clothing he took off your body. Eventually, you were completely bare in front of him. You were almost too gone to grasp what was going on. Almost. The fear began to creep in and he could tell. Maybe the medication was not working the way he intended it to. Maybe he lied about what it was intended to do. 

You slurred, “Dr. Crane, please don’t- Please don’t do this.” 

He leaned over you and you tried to push him away. He only offered a small smile and reached his hand down between your legs. You whimpered as his fingers moved lightly over your clit. You mewled at the new sensation. You gave in to the feeling and your eyes started to close. When they wouldn’t open again Jonathan lightly slapped your cheek. 

“No, no, no don’t fall asleep. I need you to stay awake for me.”, he said. 

You fought the exhaustion and watched as he used his fingers to tease you. 

He noticed you getting wetter and moved his fingers down to your entrance. He slowly stretched you with two fingers, watching your face as your mouth fell open. 

A tight-lipped smile appeared on his face. He started slow and then moved his fingers in and out very quickly, hitting a new spot until he found the one that made your legs shake. You lied back and let him work on you. All you felt was bliss. No one had ever touched you like that. 

He took his hand away and you whined. This was a first and you were glad you made it this far. This was a win. 

You thought it was over, but then you noticed him unbuttoning his pants. 

Your breath quickened and you put your hand out. “Wait! Please, no! I think I’ve had enough for today.” 

“We’re not done with your treatment yet, princess. Please hold still. It will be easier for the both of us.” 

Your body was made of putty. The side effects had gotten worse. He brought your legs into position before grabbing himself in his hand. He stroked his cock a couple of times before entering you. 

He gave you no time to adjust. His pace was slow but he fucked hard. You gasped at the feeling of him inside you. You’ve never been fucked like this before. But, that didn’t matter to him. All he wanted was to feel you around him. Make you his. 

The sounds in the room sent you reeling. You didn’t know you would moan so much. The sound of his skin hitting yours filled the room along with his heavy breaths and moans. He grabbed your hips as he thrust hard and fast. You were having a hard time coping with all the feelings you were having at once. The fear, exhaustion, and pleasure were beginning to mix. You wanted to scream. Instead, you cried. 

Jonathan moaned at the sight. He loved watching you cry. He’d seen it happen during sessions and couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if you moaned while you cried. Now he knew. You were unable to keep quiet. Silent cries became sobs which became whimpers. 

He caressed your tear-stained face, “Shhhhhh, hush now it’s alright. You’re doing so well.”

You tried to talk through your tears. “Please Jonathan- Dr. Crane, Make it stop!”

This time he went deeper. You yelped as you felt him hit a new part of you. “I’m not stopping until you tell me it feels good. Tell me, does it feel good?”

“Yes,” you moaned, “it feels good.” 

“Yeah? Are you still frightened? Are you scared of me?”

“Yes.”, you admitted. It was hard for you to get out. How could you ever fear him? All he had ever done was help you. This was just another one of his unorthodox methods. 

He bent forward and put his arms next to your ears, locking his fingers on the top of your head to hold you in place. Your body was limp as he continued fucking you into the floor. Your eyes closed; you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. 

He shook your head slightly. “No, eyes on me. Look at me.” 

You looked at him wide-eyed. 

“Open your mouth.” You obeyed and he spit in your mouth. In all honesty, you savored the taste. It was another way of him claiming you. 

“Swallow.” When you did he hummed contently. “Good girl.” 

You felt something weird tightening in your core. “Dr. Crane. I feel like I’m gonna-“. 

A long moan came out before you could finish your sentence. He fucked you as you rode your high and soon after his thrusts started to falter. He sat up and grabbed your hip to use as leverage. You mustered up as much energy as you could to move away from him, using your legs to drag yourself across the floor. He was much stronger than you at this point and he pulled you back. 

“No, come here. You’re gonna stay still while I finish. Got it?”

The tears kept flowing, but you obeyed. You lied back as he came inside of you. He stayed inside of you for a minute, savoring the moment. You were tired and blissed out. He pulled out of you without a word. He watched as his cum dropped out of you. 

“What a sight.”, he said matter a factly. He helped you sit up and wiped tears from your face with his thumb. He brought you close to him and kissed your forehead. 

He got up and put himself back together again. He fixed his clothing, tucking in his pristine white shirt and fastening his pants. He fixed his tie and looked past you into a mirror. 

Once satisfied, he grabbed a towel from his desk and cleaned you up. He helped you up to your feet and began dressing you. His demeanor was softer now. He took his time as he got you dressed. Once he was finished he helped you sit on the couch. You curled up into his side, seeking comfort from the man who had just used you. 

You’d never felt more confused. You knew this shouldn’t have happened. Every boundary had been crossed. But, the special attention from him felt better than anything. You fell asleep on his shoulder. He let you sleep on him for a while before he got up to write notes on what had just occurred. He found his glasses, put them on, and returned to his desk to begin writing. He included your reaction to the “medication” and how receptive you were to the treatment.

You woke up about an hour later, confused. You looked around and recognized his office. The memories of earlier events came rushing back. You felt your cheeks get hot.

Jonathan looked up from the paper he was holding up. “Rise and shine.”

He grabbed a sheet of paper from your file. He attached it to a clipboard and grabbed a pen. He handed you the materials and you looked down. It was another questionnaire. 

“Fill this out as accurately as possible.”

“What is it for?” You cleared your throat. He sat back down at his desk and picked up the paper he was previously inspecting. He looked at your file before looking back at you. 

“Our next session.”, he replied. 

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader smut #i proofread this but no one is perfect #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian x reader #dark jonathan crane #dark!jonathan crane #annie writes #dark jonathan crane smut #scarecrow x reader #dr jonathan crane

[ouroborosorder]

Guide Ahead Means Something To Me

Writing about Guide Ahead is…. extremely difficult, for a few reasons. One is that it is a very dense story, and to fully unpack it would require an essay so unfocused that it would be functionally unreadable. But the biggest one is that Guide Ahead is a story that focuses really heavily on the subjective nature of interpretation. How can I speak authoritatively on the thematic meaning of the plot when even a basic description of its events demands a deeper poetic interpretation?

The answer is “I can’t.” So, let’s piss off my English teacher, and coat an entire essay in the phrase “in my opinion.” Because I have to get personal if I’m going to tell you why Guide Ahead is my favorite video game story ever told.

I was raised Mormon. My mother was religious, but my father was absolutely not. You can understand why I related to Cecilia basically immediately.

Ultimately, the thing that draws me to Guide Ahead is the very thing that makes it hard to write about. Guide Ahead is, in my reading, a story about the subjectivity of divine meaning.

The most obvious manifestation, and the most important, is Law. But, Law’s execution, in traditional Arknights fashion, is kinda unclear, so I’ll recap for those who have hobbies outside of this, unlike me.

Law is the supercomputer buried underneath Laterano, and is the sentient religion that binds all the Sankta together into a hivemind of sorts. The Sankta are actually just Sarkaz connected to Law, given halos, wings, and empathic communication between each other. But, the main thing they gain, is a biological impulse to obey the Lateran religion’s thirteen doctrines. Anyone who breaks these doctrines are marked as Fallen, are cut off from the empathic connection, and slowly revert back to Sarkaz. Law represents religion as a concept and a community. Saints and sinners are just one and the same. But despite that, the laws of religion are created just to perpetuate the existence of a special in-group. One enforced by empathic connection they cannot share with anyone outside of them. That is Patia’s point - the Sankta have created an “us” and a “them,” and even the devout Liberi are not seen as “us.” They’re just converts, not real Sankta.

But, Falling has… weird grey areas. Like how Andoain was able to shoot Lemuen, or draw his gun on the fucking Pope, and not Fall in the process. This is because the doctrines are not actually the guidelines they’re held to. The Doctrines are subjective interpretations of the objective Law that they are all beholden to. That Law being “It must survive.” Law only is interested in the perpetuation of Itself, and, as a result, the continued existence of the Sankta as a societal structure.

This is the first and strongest example of what I mean when I say Guide Ahead is about meaning. Law says that the failure of religion is ultimately that religions supplant any subjective meanings with an “objective” meaning. But this “objective” meaning is just another person’s interpretation of the in-group’s best interest. Laws biologically programmed into the Sankta’s souls are revealed to be nothing but interpretation of Law’s interpretation of events.

People Fall not because they have broken a concrete law, but because Law… because the in-group has decided they did. Or when they broke the rules, they did something that’s good for the church. There is no objective laws within the Lateran religion, no matter what the machine is named. The system just declares sin when it deems worthy, and absolution when sin is a benefit.

It is this very hypocrisy that drives Andoain.

——————————————————————————————————

I remember being pulled aside at church one day. Everyone above 14 was given a sermon about the recent legalization of gay marriage. He said it was wrong, the church would never accept it. I asked him if it was like the time the church refused to give black people the Priesthood. He said this was different. I asked him how. He did not answer. I left and someone followed me out. He asked if I was okay. I told him whatever he was saying in there was not the teachings of any god that I know, and wasn’t the teachings of any god that loves me. I kept going to church after that, but deep down, I think I didn’t believe in it anymore. I didn’t feel like part of the community, I lost that reciprocation with my people. I just… began to think.

Andoain, as an antagonist, is defined by a search for meaning. He was the bishop of an Iberian church, and Iberia is doing pretty bad lately. His request for aid from Laterano was denied, and the message was clear to him. “You are one of us, but they are not.” But that answer just created a new question. Why? Why would those who claim faith and utopia as their ideals reject those who are suffering?

He searched for an answer in exile, and he didn’t find one. Instead, he found another story. The Sarkaz man who died in the watchtower to warn a town who hated him of an invading force. And this story made his question develop. Why would someone who is hated by everyone give their life to protect those very people? And why would those people then cry over the grave of someone they hated?

He had seen the realities of the Sarkaz and Sankta laid bare, but he couldn’t figure out the meaning behind it. He tells Cecilia these stories, knowing full well he doesn’t know what to make of them. I think he tells them to hope he finds the point partway through.

——————————————————————————————————

As much as I hate the Mormon church for dear god everything they’ve ever done holy shit look at them? My feelings are predictably complicated. Years later, my family fell upon hard times. I don’t want to say more than that for my own sake. We were struggling to even live. But… the church helped us. None of us gone to church for years, but they offered a hand. They gave us access to the Bishop’s Storehouse, gave us food and supplies for free, because we were starving. 

And yes, I know. I know they do this in an attempt at creating a false brotherhood in an effort to create a fascist sense of community. I have also read that part of Brothers Karamazov. I have also read Guide Ahead, come to think of it. But… Shit. Most of them tried to pretend we didn’t exist when we met them in the grocery store. And… they still helped us. In their eyes, I was Fallen.

But still, they saved us, and didn’t even ask for faith in return. I still can’t figure out why.

This is why I just… can’t see Andoain as a villain. I mean, yeah, he shot Lemuen, but even she doesn’t blame him for shooting his friends while holding the Stick That Makes You Shoot Your Friends. His entire goal is an attempt to sort through the cognitive dissonance between what the church tells him and what the church does. A dissonance that is, because of Law and the doctrines, innate to what the church is. An experience that should feel damn familiar to anyone who has spent time as an apostate. His plan is to simply confront the Pope about this hypocrisy, to get an answer, to find a meaning.

The answer he gets back is… It Must Survive. Law must survive. The in-group must survive. It doesn’t matter if we cry over the grave of the Sarkaz, because the Sarkaz would die for us. He searched for the answer to a question, the meaning of a statement. You are one of us. They are not. All this time, he searched for the meaning of those words, but in reality, those words were the meaning. That was all they ever had to say. He just needed to accept that.

…but if the in-group is all that mattered… why allow Mostima in Laterano? Why give her her position? She’s not needed for the survival of the in-group, the Law has deemed her an exile.

And… Why not Andoain?

Before he leaves, his gun is taken from him. A gun that, according to the church, has meaning. A meaning he takes as truth. He believes a part of him is left behind there. I don’t think he realizes it, but Mostima and Fiammetta are the question he left behind. They are Not Sankta, but yet they are accepted. And… I don’t know if there is a meaning to that. I still can’t figure out why.

——————————————————————————————————

For a long time, I missed those days spent in the community I had left. I would remember the things I left behind. The churchball basketball games we were destined to lose. The conversations held on the roof of the storage building behind the church. The scouting activities that were clearly an excuse to go bowling. The shitty halloween parties with the game where you ate donuts tied to a string hanging from a fishing pole. I missed it, for a time. I couldn’t help but look back.

Cecilia is searching for meaning to almost everything. When Andoain tells his stories to Cecilia, he tells her that he can’t find the meaning of them. That if there is meaning to be found, she’ll have to find it herself. So. She does.

Cecilia was faced with the same situation Andoain was obsessed with. But for her, it wasn’t hypothetical. She existed between Us and Them. She felt the pull between the community and the love and fun they represent, and the outsiders who were hated and rejected by the people around her. Society told her the meaning of her dual identity, the meaning behind each half, and then told her to choose. But… she’d experienced otherwise. She’d felt the kindness of the Sarkaz from the Pathfinders, and the hatred from the Church. She’d felt things that contradicted the meaning that she was told was true.

Her story isn’t just being forced to pick a side between the church or apostacy, it’s being forced to pick what meaning she ascribes to the world. Ultimately, that’s why her answer can only be her own. Your belief is… subjective.

And she answered… with a bell. A Sarkaz girl, bearing a halo, ringing a bell that has not been rung since the Sankta were still called Teekaz. A bell that once marked the beginning of the new era. A bell that carries the weight of a Sarkaz, hated by the place they called home. A bell that rings with the melody of a Sarkaz lullaby once sung by a Sankta. A bell that asserts her answer. She’s not Sarkaz, she’s not Sankta. She is Cecilia.

Everyone else finds their own subjective meaning within that action. Something as mundane as the ringing of the bell suddenly has more meaning than divine scripture.

No one else understood the nuance of what she said, but they understood parts of it. They understood what they wanted to. Those who know nothing of Lateran culture understand it as just… a beautiful welcome, celebrating the arrival of talks of peace. Most have their meaning determined by the church’s traditions. The pious see it as the beginning of a new era, whatever that signals to them. To the Church, it is that their talks will bring about a new era of peace. To the Pathfinders, it is a signal to begin their attack on Laterano to begin their new era.

There is so much meaning in that action, but in the end, it’s still just a fucking bell. There’s got to be hundreds, maybe thousands of them in Laterano. But this bell meant something more than the other bells. This bell had meaning, and that meaning made it divine.

This, to me, is what Guide Ahead has to say. That there is so much meaning to be found in something as mundane as a ringing bell. Within such a simple action, there is personal expression, liberation, the sound of change. And in all of this, there is the echoes of divinity, the echoes of faith, as if all of these things are, in themselves, divine.

——————————————————————————————————

When I left the church, I couldn’t help but look back, still tethered to a community who hated me. I think I wished I could stop looking back. I don't know if I realized I was.

In the end, everyone else looks back. They still have meaning to be found in Laterano. Andoain looks back, a part of his soul anchored there by the symbol he was told to believe in. Mostima looks back, knowing she’ll return just as she always does. Fiammetta looks back, because she refuses to let herself leave. Ezell looks back, unsure if he will be able to return home after what he has found.

But… Cecilia doesn’t. She has decided that she is not defined by the church, or the meaning they try to give her. She has decided to leave Laterano and see the world outside of it, to explore the world around her and find the meaning for herself.

And the last thing Cecilia does is... defined by ambiguous meaning. She sees Andoain walking in the sunset - and a word appears to her. The title of Martyr. A title she doesn’t understand the meaning or weight of, but that she feels is appropriate regardless. A title that, to other people, would mean something more. But to her, brings to mind the saints she heard of as a youth, a word her mother told her was important.

The story is ending, and they end it with an assertion. Cecilia is finding meaning, and others will find what they will within. Perhaps even she doesn't know all of it.

A while back, during a theater rehearsal, I suddenly remembered a conversation I had years before I left the church. I remembered speaking with my friends outside of the chapel after a sunday service. My friend said a sentence that has stuck with me ever since. “I don’t think science goes against God. I think God uses science and math. I think those things are holy, because they’re… what everything is made of.”

I remember looking around the rehearsal space and thinking that if science could be sacred, then… so is this moment, now. So is my time spent with the people I love. This is sacred. What I missed, what kept me looking back. It wasn’t the actual religion, but instead… just belonging to something. So… I stopped looking back. In that moment, however fleeting it was, I had found whatever it was I needed.

—————————————————————————————————

Look. You probably had a different interpretation of Guide Ahead. This story is just… So goddamn dense. There is so much there that I didn’t even touch on. For the love of god, I just did an analysis of Guide Ahead and didn’t even really discuss Fiammetta?? What kind of hack writer am I? (I just… couldn’t talk about her without being more personal than I am willing to be in public.)

If you have an interpretation that is different than mine, that’s great. I encourage you to hold on to it, and hold it close. That meaning is yours, and yours alone, and that’s a precious thing.

Because to me, what I found… is that very idea.

There is meaning to be found in anything - and a meaning that is yours, and yours alone. All you have to do is find meaning. and the idea that there is meaning to the world, that everything has meaning not because there is a “true” meaning to it, but because we find one there, because we put one there… that makes everything feel… divine, to me.

So… wherever you find meaning, you can find the divine.

You can find divinity in a ringing bell. In a terrible cactus tart. A carnival game you know how to beat. The promises of peace around a table. A cup of coffee. A city you hate. A community you love. A flower growing near a grave. A weapon you carry. A people you surround yourself with.

Those are all… holy to me.

And to me… that meaning is enough.

I hope yours is for you.

#arknights #critical analysis #feel free to reblog #i know this is personal but don't worry I wrote it to be shared #thank you all. #finally i can rest

[caramelcleopatraa]

GIANNA'S ROOM

word count: 1.2k

x: heyyoo. I came up with this idea a few weeks ago, and I didn't know where I wanted this to go, so I'm excited to see if y'all like this one or not. causeeee I can make part 2 "Roman's Room" which is already planned out :p. anyways hope you guys enjoy (excuse any errors you see of course) and please leave comments. I love comments.

content: He’s a wrestler. She’s a pornstar. They were never meant to meet, but Gianna wanted to ride, so he let her. Roman Reigns x Gianna, 18+ MDNI, dirty talk, masturbation, exchange of videos and pictures

“Thank you guys so much for watching. I’ll see you guys next stream,” Gianna says seductively, blowing a kiss at her viewers. Another successful day, and a hefty bag gust from two hours of work. She was so glad that her roommate, Amara, was non judgemental when it came to her occupation. There’s such a negative view on sex workers, and she was worried she’d be stuck with a roommate who wouldn't respect her, but she lucked out big time. She even offered to be in multiple videos with Gianna when money was tight, which led to Amara creating a OnlyFans account of her own. 

1 Notification from: Anonymous

Normally, she shrugged off private messages because they usually lead to personalized requests, which is something she doesn't do. But she gets intrigued once she reads the message preview.

Anonymous Hi pretty, you take requests? I’ll pay you 1000 for….

‘1000?’ She clicks on the notification and reads the full message.

Hi pretty, you take requests? I’ll pay you 1000 for just a quick video.

‘1000 dollars is a lot for a short video.’

EroticMedusa I don't normally take requests, but that offer is too good to deny.

Anonymous I was hoping you’d say that. I’ll go ahead and send the payment through if you want to do the video.

EroticMedusa Sure! Anything in particular you want me to do? I’m here for your pleasure, sir. :)

Anonymous Whatever makes you feel comfortable sweetheart. Need some inspiration?

EroticMedusa If you don't mind. :)

Anonymous Of course sweetheart. [2 Attachments]

She clicks the first picture and her jaw drops to the floor. Saying that he was attractive was an understatement. He’s big. For fucking sure. His wavy hair dangled down from the top of the picture. Pearly white teeth, salt and pepper beard, broad shoulders, big arms and big hands, a large tattoo that covered his right pec and covered his entire right arm, prominent chest, defined torso, thick thighs, and he was hung. She was practically drooling from the picture alone. What didn’t he have? She exited out of the picture and clicked on the video next. She couldn't take her eyes off the screen.

He held his phone in his hand, keeping the phone at the perfect angle to capture his beautiful body. She could hear chuckling as he slowly stroked himself for her. “Look what you do to me baby.” God, his voice. If his body wouldn't do it, his voice definitely would. She was glad that she had free time today to make the video, because she was already turned on from the picture he sent. “Wish you were here with me sweetheart, I’d make you cum all night” He tightens his fist, fucking up into his hand. “Want you to suck this dick so bad, baby. Need to feel those lips around my dick.” She bit her bottom lip, unconsciously grabbing her breasts and bucking her hips. “Damn, I'm finna cum for you. Ahhh shit!” She watched closely as strings of cum leaked from his tip, his head leaned back and his chest heaving from the intense orgasm he had. He stroked himself a few more times, creating squelching from his release dripping over his hands. What she would give to lick him clean.

EroticMedusa Damn daddy, that was so sexy.

Anonymous I’m glad you like it.

EroticMedusa I loved it! Your body looks soo good! And your voice made me so horny daddy.

Anonymous Ever had a stranger make you feel like that?

EroticMedusa No, only you.

Anonymous Good girl.  Making me horny again the way you’re talking to me.

EroticMedusa I wish I could've been there to lick you clean. I’m so wet imagining it. I’m making the video right now! Give me a few minutes.

Anonymous Take your time.

Gianna propped her phone up after sending her last message, making sure she was capturing all of the right angles and pressed record. She grabbed her favorite vibrator from her nightstand drawer and positioned herself in front of the camera. She could see herself glistening from her phone. She waved at the camera and giggled before playing with her breasts. Grabbing and tugging at her nipples, bucking her hips again and moaning softly. She imagines his hands replacing hers. “I’m so horny for you, daddy,” She says, spreading her legs to show him her delectable pussy. She was glistening even more now, if that was possible. The hand that wasn’t focused on her breast, teases her folds, and the hand that was on her breast, reached to grab her vibrator.

“I want that dick daddy,” she says, pressing the button on her vibrator placed on her sensitive clit. The strong vibrations made her gasp, her eyes fluttering shut and enjoying the sensation. She imagined him burying his face between her legs, dragging his tongue along her pussy. How he would lick and suck on her clit. How he would make her come on his tongue, and keep going. All of these fantasies were only making her more excited. “Fuck, I want you so bad daddyy. I wish you were here right now.” Her chest bobbed up and down, her ragged breaths mixed in with whiny and desperate moans. The picture and video that he sent earlier was crystal clear in her mind. His deep moans and dirty talk repeated in her head while the vibrator stayed stationary on her clit. “Shiiit- ugh. Feels so fucking good.” 

Her back arched as her moans got louder. She was for sure making a mess on the bed and disturbing her neighbors. She didn’t care though. God she needed to cum. Between the video he sent her and the conversation they had, there was nothing she was more focused on than undoing herself. Her spare hand grabbed at the sheets, eyes rolling to the back of her head in euphoric pleasure of the orgasm that was fastly building. “aaah- i’m gonna cum f’r you,” she says, her slurred words that accompanied the light buzzing of the vibrator. Her thighs shook violently as she screamed out pleas and exclaims of pleasure. She turned off the vibrator, working quick circles on her clit, overstimulating herself. Her legs stayed open, displaying the beautiful mess she made on herself and her silk sheets. She grabs her phone, bringing it closer to her cunt, giving him a front row seat. “Would you lick it up, daddy?” She giggles softly, pressing the red button to stop the recording. She sends the video to him, taking a deep breath.

EroticMedusa Here you go, big guy 😘 [1 Attatchment]

‘Shit, that was amazing.’ If he was willing to stick around, she could pump out content in no time.

She cleans herself up minutes later, wrapping herself in her silk robe that matched her sheets. Her phone vibrated against the nightstand, and she quickly unlocked her phone, anxious for his response. And she got just that.

Anonymous God damn baby [1 Attatchment]

She could make another video just from the picture alone. His head was leaned back, showing off his adam’s apple. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat with droplets dripping down his chest. Streams of cum drip down his shaft, down to his balls. She would have loved to see what he looked like while he stroked himself to her video.

Anonymous Can I see you?

EroticMedusa See me? What are you trying to do, sir? 😏

Anonymous I’m tryna give you the best dick down you’ll ever have.

🏷️ tags :) @reignsboy19 @2-muchsauce @theninthwonder @harmshake @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @alyyaanna @empressdede @badbitchcentralinc @christinabae @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @cyberdejos2

#roman reigns #caramelcleopatraa #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x chubby reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x reader #wwe fiction #wwe smut #roman x reader

[just-aake]

Boundless Devotion - Part XI

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Warnings: light angst, light fluff, slight violence

Words: 4350

The distant rumble of thunder causes your horse to fidget nervously as the two of you press on along the trail from the manor.

Your gaze shifts from the darkening skies to the princess, riding slightly ahead of you. 

Since leaving, a heavy silence has hung between the two of you with the both of you choosing to focus on the path ahead or, in Natasha’s case, glaring into the distance.

You can easily read the tension in her body from her stiff back, letting you know her current feelings.

Unable to stand the quiet anymore, you decide to call out to her.

“I can tell that you’re still upset, you know.”

At the sound of your voice, Natasha relaxes her posture slightly, slowing her horse to ride alongside you.

With a tired sigh and a slight bow of her head, she grumbles under her breath.

“Not at you,” she clarifies before her hands clench the reins in anger, and she grits out. “Just this situation.”

You sigh sadly at her explanation, looking down at your hands in disappointment. This is precisely what you had hoped to avoid — adding more stress to her mind. 

Noticing your expression, Natasha's hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder, drawing your attention.

Her eyes soften when they meet yours with a knowing look.

“Hey, I’m serious. This is not on you,” she stresses before continuing with a pleading tone, “You’re my best friend, Y/n. I just want you to be safe.”

Her proposition from earlier reappears in your mind. The offer was kind and generous but accepting it would create too many complications, especially for Natasha. 

Breaking away from her intense gaze, you look down to focus on your horse instead, finding small comfort in stroking its mane gently before quietly telling her your answer with a resigned sigh. 

“I can’t stay at the castle, Natasha.”

“Why not?” she asks with a frustrated sigh.

Returning your gaze to hers, a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you look at her. 

Despite growing up together, you’re still amazed at how she still manages to maintain the same determination and compassion that you’ve always seen in her since you were young. 

Rather than responding directly to her, you ask a different question.

“Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?”

Natasha tilts her head in confusion, but still, she decides to go along with it anyway, curious about the point of your abrupt change in subject.

“I remember saying that you were the most stubborn person I’ve ever met," she recalls with a pointed look in her eyes.

Amused, you let out a small laugh and shake your head lightly. 

“Says the one who wouldn’t stay still after she fell out of a tree.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but a tiny smile forms at the corner of her lips at the memory of her first official meeting with you outside of royal events. 

Your mind also drifts to the past, recalling the state of the kingdom at that time when you were still children.

Even after years had passed, people were still recovering from the effects and loss of the war. 

After a brief moment of contemplation, you continue.

“During that time, even with the peace treaty, there was still some resentment between our people and the Stark kingdom.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Natasha sighs solemnly in recollection before giving you a small teasing smile. “Even someone as kind as you didn’t like them back then.”

That was true.

At that time, the twins had recently entered your life after the devastating loss of their parents to some Stark stragglers in the kingdom. With that incident as well as Madam B’s constant comments throughout your childhood of how the Stark kingdom should’ve lost the war, it’s understandable why your sentiments towards the other kingdom weren't exactly favorable.

However, your perspective changed on that fateful day when you stumbled upon the injured princess at the base of the tree by the lake. 

Pulling yourself from the memory, you nod your head in acknowledgment of her words about you before commenting.

“You could say almost everyone in the kingdom had some animosity with the Stark kingdom.” 

Your eyes then drift to Natasha, looking at her with admiration.

“But not you,” you say softly.

When Natasha tilts her head curiously, still confused at your point, your hand reaches for hers, and she gives it to you without hesitation, intertwining your fingers. 

Despite the slight roughness on her skin, a result from years of training, you only feel the warmth of her palm spreading to you and the gentleness in her grasp. 

For a brief bittersweet moment, you can’t help but think about how her hand fits perfectly in yours. 

Shaking away the thought, your thumb instinctively caresses the back of her hand as you explain to her.

“You have a kind heart, Natasha, always wanting to protect and care for everyone.”

Pausing your movement, you remember her words from years ago.

“Back then, you told me that when you became the queen, you’re going to heal the pain that the war had caused. For everyone. For both kingdoms.”

A small smile plays on your lips as you reminisce about the memory. 

“That was the moment I knew you would become a great ruler.” 

Looking up into her eyes, you tell her earnestly, “I still do, which is why I decided that day to do everything I can to help you accomplish that future you envisioned.”

Giving her a small smile, you end with a soft tone, “Because I believe in you, Natasha.”

Natasha’s eyes widen, and her mouth opens in surprise, stunned speechless at your words.

After a moment, your smile fades as you glance back down at her hand in yours before releasing it with a resigned sigh.

“But that means you can’t keep trying to protect me from every bad thing. Not when you need to focus on the entire kingdom soon.”

“I can do both,” Natasha asserts with a frown. 

Determined, you shake your head in refusal.

“No, you need more allies among the other nobles than just me. When you become queen, you’ll be working with the heads of the houses, not their daughters or sons who are already charmed by you.”

Natasha huffs in annoyance at the mention of the older nobles, recalling their greed for power and favor. 

You shoot her a knowing look as you point out.

“You know that bringing me into the castle will show favoritism.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief before arguing, “First of all, you are my favorite, and second, everyone already thinks we’re together.”

“But we’re not going to be for much longer,” you remind her, repeating her words from this morning. “After your coronation, you and I don’t need to be in a fake relationship anymore.”

“I didn’t—that was before—,” Natasha groans, rubbing her forehead in frustration. 

You are right concerning the situation with other nobles. Navigating and balancing the political scene has always been a challenging task, even for her parents. 

Once she takes the throne, all of those nobles’ scrutinizing eyes will turn to her, and they will ruthlessly pick apart every action she takes.

Bringing you in will just put you in the forefront of their attention. 

Natasha drags her hand down her face tiredly, giving you a conflicted look.

“That still doesn’t make what your father is doing right,” she says.

“No, but it is my problem to worry about, not yours,” you assert firmly.

Natasha starts to argue, but you interrupt, emphasizing your point. 

“As queen, you will have to choose your battles, Natasha,” you stress, giving her a serious look. “Even if it means you don’t choose me.”

Her expression twists in displeasure at your last words, a sentiment she finds difficult to accept.

However, confronted by your unrelenting and expectant gaze, Natasha sighs in frustration, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You know, I feel like you got those words from one of my mother’s lectures," she says, slightly exasperated.

Her tone eases the tension in the air a little. 

“Maybe,” you reply with a small laugh.

Natasha watches you with a resigned expression.

While she doesn't entirely agree with your point, she’s not going to force you into something you don’t want. 

“I still don’t like the idea of you going back to him,” Natasha remarks.

You sigh, admitting, “Well, as long as I follow his orders, he usually just leaves me alone.” 

Her expression twists unhappily at that information, prompting you to place a reassuring hand on her arm before continuing. 

“I do have a plan so that I can leave eventually, Natasha. Until then, I can take care of myself.” You give her a reassuring smile. “And I’m not alone. I have the twins.”

“You also have me,” Natasha says earnestly, covering your hand with hers and squeezing it gently.

“Whatever you need, the castle is always open to you.”

“I know,” you say appreciatively. “Thank you, Natasha.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After reluctantly accepting your decision, Natasha and you continue until the two of you reach a fork in the path.

Natasha slows her horse to a stop, looking to you for direction as she realizes that she doesn’t know your intended destination. In the back of her mind, she recalls Pietro mentioning something about you finding answers.

“So, where are we going?”

“The prison,” you respond to her casually, already urging your horse in its direction. 

Natasha raises a brow, an unsettling feeling creeping in as she remembers Clint’s message to her on the day of the festival about the stalled interrogation of the man from the cemetery attack.

“Who are you going to see?” she asks hesitantly, catching up beside you.

“Captain James Barnes,” you reveal.

Natasha lets out a small breath of relief at your answer, her body relaxing momentarily before tensing up again as she recognizes the name. 

“As in Stark’s old captain?” she questions.

At your nod, she asks in surprise, “What is he doing there?”

You pause for a moment before answering, humming a little in thought.

“My father assumes it was an assassination attempt, but when I met him, he suddenly tried to take me away,” you explain nonchalantly before noticing Natasha’s shocked expression and quickly continuing to reassure her.

“Pietro stopped him, though, and he was captured before he could do anything else.”

Natasha raises her hand in a stopping gesture as she tries to process the new information, pinching between her eyes in exasperation at you before taking a deep breath.

“So you’re telling me…you were almost kidnapped by this known criminal, and now we’re on our way to the prison to talk with him?”

You nod, confirming her words. 

Natasha stares at you in disbelief for a moment in silence before quickly turning her horse around and grabbing your reins.

“That’s it, we’re going back to the castle,” she declares firmly.

“Natasha, we just talked about this,” you say, pulling your reins back from her grip.

“No, this involves a war criminal. I think I have some power over the decisions in this case,” Natasha says with a pointed look.

Despite her serious expression, you return her stare with an all-too-familiar pleading look, causing Natasha to quickly turn away, refusing to maintain eye contact with you. 

It was already difficult to refuse any request from you when you look at her with that expression, but with the recent realization of her feelings, she knows she stands no chance right now.

“Natasha, please.”

She groans internally at the sound of your voice, taking a deep breath before giving you a tiny glare, which you return with a slight tilt of your head and a small pout. 

Immediately, Natasha’s head falls to her chest in defeat. She can already hear Yelena’s mocking voice in her mind about how easily she gives in to you.

In a final attempt to see if you may change your mind, Natasha gives you another hard look before ultimately relenting with a sigh.

“Okay, fine, but I’m staying beside you the entire time, and you can’t get too close to him.”

When your face brightens with a satisfied smile in victory, Natasha huffs and shakes her head in disbelief.

Despite her reaction, though, a warm feeling spreads in her chest at your happy expression, reminding her of the original reason she had come to see you.

As the two of you ride side by side on the path, Natasha decides to take this opportunity to continue the conversation that was previously interrupted.

However, before delving back into that discussion, there was another topic concerning something from earlier that she wanted to ask you about first. 

“Y/n, back at the manor, when I was climbing to your window…,” Natasha starts, causing you to look at her curiously.

“I overheard some parts of your conversation with the twins,” she admits.

With a desire to confirm her suspicion based on the fragments she heard, Natasha presses on with her question when she notices your surprised expression.

"When you told me that you liked someone…you didn’t mean Carol, did you?"

Natasha observes as your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise before you quickly shake your head to get out of your shocked state.

“Oh, that’s—uh, I mean, Carol’s…great. Anybody would like—um…” you wince slightly at your loss of words.

With a raised brow, Natasha waits as you stumble over your words before you finally confess under your breath with a sigh.

“...no, I wasn’t talking about her.”

A sense of relief washes over Natasha at your words before she questions you with an amused smile.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” 

You respond with a disbelieving huff. 

“Well, why did you assume it was her?” you counter. 

“The two of you seemed so close during the festival, and at the bonfire, you were blushing a lot with her,” Natasha points out accusingly.

“That���s because she was teasing me about y—” you shut your mouth, stopping yourself before you finish.

In the heat of defending yourself, you nearly revealed that all of your flustered reactions at that time were about Natasha.

Glancing over at her to see if she noticed your slip-up, you groan internally when you recognize her pleased expression.

Natasha is grinning widely at the revelation, her eyes lighting up happily as if she's finally solved a mystery. 

When your hand covers your face in embarrassment, she knows you also figured out that she has already guessed what you meant to say. 

At your slight blush, she can’t help but want to tease you a little bit more, tilting her head to try and catch your attention.

“You know, I think I heard you mention my name too. What were you about to say about me before I appeared?”

You purposely avoid meeting her eyes, wishing the ground would just swallow you up already.

Having Natasha suspect that your feelings for someone were actually for her was not something that you had expected to happen, especially considering how your previous discussion this morning ended.

Choosing to ignore her question, you point to the distance ahead and try to divert the conversation.

“I think we’re nearing the prison. We should probably concentrate and focus our attention on what we’ll do when we get there.”

Natasha's grin widen at your flustering and poor attempt to change the subject. 

As you prepare to urge your horse forward, her hand reaches over to hold your reins again, stopping you.

Done with all the teasing, Natasha decides to reciprocate some vulnerability, understanding that you might be feeling exposed at the moment.

She nudges your arm gently to get your attention.

Once your eyes reluctantly meet hers, Natasha begins softly.

“Remember how I said I realized something? Turns out I'm facing a similar problem to what you had this morning.”

Confused, you furrow your brows, prompting Natasha to smile fondly at you. She takes a deep breath before admitting with a happy sigh.

“Apparently, there is someone I like, but I don’t know how they feel about me,” Natasha echoes your words from this morning before tilting her head meaningfully, adding, "She’s one of my closest friends too."

Your eyes widen in surprise and uncertainty as you try to come up with a response.

That warm feeling returns to your chest, but you try not to let that hope grow too fast.

At your silence, Natasha presses on, asking, "What should I do?"

Clearing your throat nervously, you finally find your voice as you repeat the response she had given you.

“Well, you said you would’ve just asked them directly about how they felt about you.”

“I did, didn't I?” Natasha says in contemplation. She pauses for a second before a small smirk forms on her face, and she focuses her intense gaze on you.

“So, Y/n, how do you feel about me?”

Your eyes search hers in disbelief at the implication of her question towards you. You try to spot any signs of her usual teasing, but there is only genuine anticipation and hope in her expression.

Caught off guard by the sudden realization, you stammer, “I—um…” 

As Natasha waits for your response, the sound of rustling and footsteps from the shadows of the trees catches her attention, setting her instincts on edge.

Her body instantly straightens in alertness as she observes the surroundings. 

At the faint sound of a mechanism engaging and then a quiet click, Natasha quickly grabs you, pulling you off your horse and onto the ground just as a heavy net shoots out from the trees.

Your horses whine in panic as the net soars past them, where it would have caught you and Natasha if the two of you hadn’t moved.

Instead, the complex mesh of thick ropes and weighted edges lands with a resounding thud on the ground, ensnaring nothing but air.

Natasha and you landed in a tangled heap, her hands instinctively shielding your head and body as the both of you roll to a stop.

The surrounding area seems to hold its breath for a second before the sound of hurried footsteps causes the two of you to rise quickly to your feet.

Three menacing men emerge from the trees, each brandishing a weapon as they advance toward you and Natasha, undeterred by the failure of their initial trap.

Natasha pulls her sword from its sheath and hands it to you with a smirk.

“It’s a good thing we practiced this morning, huh?” she teases lightly. 

You roll your eyes exasperatedly as you take the sword.

Natasha is more than capable of taking on these ruffians, but knowing that you are not defenseless will probably help her concentrate more on them than having to also worry about you. 

The attackers quickly rush at the two of you, and Natasha immediately engages in combat with two of them simultaneously while the third one dodges her attacks and goes for you.

You raise the sword in defense as it clashes against his before the two of you engage in a fight.

He was bigger than you, but luckily, that just means that you are faster than his movements.

You find yourself dodging and parrying his swings, but his experience with a sword allows him to defend from most of your attacks easily.   

Seeing no way to break through his defense, you spot a large tree nearby and come up with an idea.

While dodging his attacks, you discreetly move toward its direction, leading him closer. 

Right as your back hits the trunk of the tree, a particularly powerful swing knocks the sword out of your hand.

The attacker grins victoriously, thinking you are cornered, and lunges forward with a powerful thrust.

Swiftly ducking out of the way, you cause his sword to impale deep into the tree instead.

With him stunned at his stuck weapon, you knock his arm away from the sword and then swiftly hook your leg around the back of his knee, sweeping it out from under him.

Before he can recover, you quickly pick up your fallen sword and slam its hilt against the back of his head.

Catching your breath, you let out a breath of relief when you see that he is unconscious.

Next thing you know, your body is pulled away from the man, and Natasha’s hands are moving gently across your face as she examines you.

Seeing that you are okay, she glances at the man on the ground before giving you an excited smile in realization.

“You were watching me that day,” Natasha points out happily.

That last action that you just performed was almost exactly the same as her finishing move during her spar with Steve. 

Based on your evasive behavior toward her at that time, Natasha had thought that you were avoiding her to the point where you didn’t even want to watch her train anymore.

You offer her sword back to her with a small roll of your eyes.

Behind her, you see the other two attackers already on the ground, subdued.

“You already know that I’ve always liked watching you train," you remind her. 

Instead of taking the sword, Natasha wraps her hand around yours and pulls you a step closer to her, bringing your body and face near hers.

She playfully tilts her head at you with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Weren't you just about to tell me about something else that you like before we were interrupted?” Natasha challenges. 

You huff and shake your head in disbelief, realizing her intention.

Refusing to be the first to give in, especially with her confident and charming smirk in place, you decide to lean in even closer instead, bringing your face just a breath away from hers.

“I don’t know, Natasha, is there something you want to tell me?” you whisper challengingly, lowering your tone.

Natasha’s smirk widens in amusement as she maintains her position, seemingly unaffected, but looking closer, you notice a slight change in her eyes as they darken and briefly dart down to your lips.

Understanding dawns on you as you recall all the times you’ve seen that look on her before.

A charged tension fills the air as both of you stubbornly await the other to give in.

After a moment, Natasha finally releases a shaky breath and leans her head against yours, unable to resist anymore with you so close to her.

However, before any word can escape her parted lips, the tranquility is shattered by the sound of an arrow being released and a grunt emanating from the trees.

Turning in unison, you and Natasha witness the hidden attacker tumbling from the tree to the ground.

Your gaze then shifts to the source of the arrow, revealing a familiar figure behind the bow.

“Clint,” Natasha greets before complimenting, "Nice shot."

He puts away his bow and approaches both of you with a raised brow.

“You two are adorable, but next time, please check your surroundings again before running into each other’s arms,” he advises.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, you clear your throat awkwardly and take a step back from Natasha.

However, her hand catches your side, keeping you close.

“Where are the two of you going? And without an escort, at that,” he ask, with the last part directed pointedly in reprimand at Natasha, who responds with a slight roll of her eyes.

"To the prison," you answer him.

"What about you? What are you doing running around with your bow again?" Natasha asks curiously.

Clint gestures to the attackers, unconscious on the ground.

“These men are from the Hydra's den, which happened to be suspiciously deserted when I passed by this morning,” he reveals with a serious tone.

Natasha frowns upon hearing the information.

The central area where mercenaries usually occupy being suddenly empty is never a good sign.

“Rumlow?” Natasha asks in suspicion.

This behavior is too unusual for the noble known for his affiliations with such groups to deny any knowledge of what is happening.

Clint shrugs unsurely, grimacing, “He’s not at his manor. My informant didn’t arrive at the usual meeting time either, so I came to investigate.”

He gestures towards you and Natasha.

“If you two are also heading to the prison, then it's better if I stay with you, especially after this ambush. I’m assuming you're taking Lady Y/n to see…,” Clint trails off when he sees Natasha discreetly shaking her head, signaling him to stop talking, but it is too late. 

At his words, you quickly turn to Natasha with suspicion, raising your brow.

There’s no way Clint would know about Barnes so soon, so he must be referring to someone else at the prison, and judging by Natasha’s reaction, she knows exactly who he meant.

Natasha shoots a glare at Clint, who has suddenly taken an interest in looking up at the skies. She winces slightly when she glances back at you and sees your accusatory stare.

With a resigned sigh, she reveals, “There may have been a request…by that attacker from the cemetery to speak with you before he would answer any of our questions.”

“Natasha!” you exclaim in reprimand for keeping such information concerning you a secret.

She raises her hands in defense, arguing, “He’s a threat against the kingdom, which means I can make decisions concerning him about you.”

“You can't use that excuse every time,” you tell her, poking her in the shoulder pointedly at her attempt of creating a loophole to indirectly protect you. 

Natasha responds with an amused smile, catching your hands and interlocking them together. She raises her brows and remarks teasingly.

"Yes, I can. I'm still your princess, remember?"

Rolling your eyes at her usual teasing reminder, you shove her lightly in response with your clasped hands, which elicits a chuckle from her.

Clint lets out a smile as he observes the close interaction between you and Natasha, commenting with an assuring nod, “Yeah, you two really are adorable together.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! I may have been delusional saying that there would two/three more parts left of this series two parts ago, but it should be around two parts left after this one (i think).

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin,  @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife, @mviswidow, @slut4johansson 

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

[calaisreno]

Cake

1146 words / Prompt: Laugh

Have some cake. It's my birthday.

Sherlock picks up his fork and examines the slice of cake before him. It’s yellow, with thick white icing and colourful sprinkles. 

John and Molly have already tasted their pieces and are talking about something. John makes a teasing remark about hearing aids. Apparently Sherlock has missed the question.

“Hm?”

John smiles at him. It’s a fond smile, but a sad one. Sherlock tries to remember the last time John looked happy. It’s been ages, he thinks. Even the smile on his face now isn’t truly happy. 

His wedding, maybe. He did smile a lot that day, but there was something ragged underneath. A kind of exhausted cheer. The days leading up the event were hectic, but it was worth it to give John and Mary a joyous day. Maybe it was relief Sherlock saw in those wedding smiles. Glad to have the big day go well, ready to wake up to a new life. 

The day Rosie was born, John’s smile was incredulous, full of wonder. But Sherlock could see he was terrified, too. It was the day it all became real, irrevocable. There was no going back for him and Mary. Nor for Sherlock. John was a father, and had responsibilities.

Unmingled joy. That’s what Sherlock is trying to remember. 

That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.

And you invaded Afghanistan.

It was the first time he heard John helpless with laughter. They’d stood inside the front door, leaning against the wall, giggling at the ridiculousness of what they’d just done, running through alleys and across rooftops. Welcome to London.

It was the moment when he first realised he wanted to kiss John. He wanted to hear that giggle of surrender again. To laugh every day with John and keep him forever.

It might have lasted, if Sherlock hadn’t created a problem that could only be solved by dying, leaving John alone for two years. 

He’d dreamed of coming home, hearing John laugh at his brilliant resurrection. He’d been so intent on that, he hadn’t realised. It may have been necessary to go away, but his return wasn’t as brilliant as he’d dreamed.

Well, then. Neither of them has been happy.

“You haven’t even tasted it,” John is saying. 

“Oh.” He lifts a bite to his mouth, smells vanilla, feels the icing melt on his tongue. “Delicious.” It is, and he takes another bite, even though he’s not hungry. 

John is smiling at him. 

He can’t stop thinking about John’s tears, just a half an hour ago in the flat. 

I’m not the man you thought I was. 

It’s not okay.

Well, it is what it is. John hasn’t been happy for a long time, he thinks. 

Though they never spoke of it, he knows John had mixed feelings about the marriage. A part of him loved Mary, but even though he forgave her, he never forgot:  what have I ever done… my whole life… to deserve you?

Mary wasn’t supposed to be like that. But she was. 

Sherlock wasn’t supposed to come back, but he did. 

John was supposed to be happy. He wasn’t.

Sometimes he thinks John might have been happy if Sherlock had stayed dead. He would have got over his best friend dying in front of him. He would have married and lived in the suburbs with his wife and child. His wife wouldn’t have shot Sherlock, and she wouldn’t have died, trying to protect him. He wouldn’t be raising his child alone. 

He eats his cake silently, pressing his fork into the last crumbs. 

“You’ve been quiet,” John says as they walk back to 221B. 

“Hm.” 

“About earlier… I’m sorry.” He huffs a small laugh. “Mood killer, for sure.”

He stops walking. “John.”

John is two paces ahead by the time Sherlock says his name. He turns and looks at Sherlock, puzzled. “What is it?”

“Are you happy?”

“Am I happy?” He gives a short, bitter laugh. “What does happiness have to do with anything? Are you happy?”

“Well, no one can be happy all the time. But I consider myself an optimistic person. I expect I will be happy again.”

“Are you…” John licks his lips. “Will you contact her?”

“No. She knows what I am, and doesn’t expect it.”

“Sherlock, I know I was pushing when I said you should… I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want that. I just wish you weren’t so alone.”

“Not so alone. I have you.” 

Sherlock resumes walking; John falls into step with him.

“Yeah, a great friend I’ve been.”

“You’re not perfect, John. Neither am I. You shouldn’t hold yourself to an impossibly high standard. Happiness is more important. Do you know,” he says, turning to look at John, “some of my happiest moments have been spent with you.”

John sighs. “We’ve had some good times. I’ll never forget the months we lived together. You saved me. I was so lost, so alone…” Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles wistfully. “Do you remember that night, when we were chasing the cab, and I forgot my cane at the restaurant?” He giggles. “Oh, God. Down alleys, across the rooftops. Welcome to London. That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever done.”

Sherlock smiles. “Wanna see some more?”

“What are you saying?” John halts. 

Sherlock turns and faces him. “Come back. Move in with me, you and Rosie.”

John is gazing at him, his eyes soft. “Do you know what I wished for that night?”

“What did you wish, John?”

He looks down at his feet. “I wished… that I could spend the rest of my days running after you, trying to keep up. Giggling at crime scenes, running all over London, coming home and sitting in the evenings…” He sighs. “It can’t be like it was before. I have a child.”

“Another adventure I look forward to. We’ll hire a nanny, solve all the boring cases, and you’ll write them up for the blog. We’ll be together.” He puts his hands on John’s shoulders. “Come back to me.”

John shakes his head gravely. “You don’t know what you’re asking. Rosie’s a baby, and soon she’ll be toddling around, getting into everything.”

“That’s what babies do. They grow into children, and eventually leave home. And you’ll miss her then. I want to see her grow up, too. I want to be there when you send her off to uni. I want to help plan her wedding, hold your first grandchild. I want to retire to a cottage in Sussex with you and keep bees.”

“Bees?”

“Yes, John. Do keep up. If you don’t like bees, you ought to have plenty of cases to write up by then.”

John brushes tears from his eyes. “What are you saying?”

In answer, he puts his arms around John. “You said love would complete me as a human being. I’m saying, it already has.”

#mayprompts2024

[orphiclovers]

Ya ever think Pre-Scenarios Yoo Joonghyuk went to church / ya think Yoo Joonghyuk has catholic guilt?

You would never get asked questions like this on any other site. Gotta love tumblr. And of COURSE I have thoughts on this that I will ramble on in great detail.

In general, I always try to be careful to not accidentally project my western understanding onto things with a different cultural context. Especially in regards to things like Christianity, since it’s not universal and…idk it would feel inaccurate to ascribe it to characters who wouldn’t realistically encounter it themselves? Not that you can’t, but I personally try not to. That's irrelevant with ORV though, they literally made the biblical Garden of Eden be a place YJH has been shirtless in. So I’m just going to go ahead and assume that all the Christian motifs I find are intentional and fair game lol

I’ll start with your second question: KDJ’s the one with the catholic guilt, not YJH. YJH has something much more sinister going on.

He gets two main monikers in canon - ‘Pilgrim of The Lonely Apocalypse’ and ‘Puppet of The Oldest Dream.’ In ORV your moniker basically reveals what your ‘story’ is all about. These two names are supposed to show what Yoo Joonghyuk represents, and my thoughts there are…

1. Puppet of the Oldest Dream

He’s the incarnation of the all-seeing and all-knowing god that created the world. 

What I’m saying is, he's a Jesus figure, alright? HEAR ME OUT. He is cursed to walk the world and suffer eternally to bring salvation to one man - at the end it's revealed that he willingly chooses to bear this burden (talking about 0th here). It’s that classic scapegoat story, bearing the sins of the world to save everyone else, but he's also choosing to do this, despite knowing it will be awful.

At the end of his regressions, when he breaks free of his chains, stops being a puppet, he finds himself lost and missing their weight. He had a terrible purpose in regression - without it, he's meaningless again.

2. As Pilgrim of the Lonely Apocalypse

He's literally called a ‘pilgrim’ - someone who goes on a journey to find god. Catholic guilt is about thinking you deserve to suffer for some perceived sins, but Yoo Joonghyuk already is in Hell. ‘Hell of Eternity’ specifically, which manifests with the Christian imagery of fire and brimstone. His ‘journey to find God’ takes him through a world of unimaginable pain and cruelty that he has to somehow find meaning in. (Both YJH and SP have different answers on what that meaning is in different points in their life. )

Needless to say, he has A LOT of imagery associated with religion.

On a more personal level, YJH is motivated by this ceaseless search for the meaning of his own existence. There's the extra layer there that he knows instinctively he was put on this earth for some grand reason, only no one ever tells him what it is. He’s cast into the world without memories and has to stumble through life blind, just like the rest of us. He desperately seeks someone who can tell him what he’s supposed to do, parent, god, prophet or anyone else. (Basically, he's an edgy atheist teenager.)

That’s why he never reaches his ‘▪️▪️’ - the cruel thing is that he can’t ever truly find his purpose, because he is driven by having an unreachable goal.

To answer your first question: Pre-scenarios Yoo Joonghyuk is busy trying to survive his shitty job and taking care of Mia. He doesn't have time for church or having a life or anything. All he can do is daydream of one day finding whoever created him and gave him life. He puts all his hopes on getting enough money to hire a private investigator and keeping this single goal in mind for years. 

He will meet his parents and they will tell him what he’s supposed to do right? The really fucked up thing is, he does eventually get there.

The investigators give him an address, which he visits but finds only an empty house. On the way back, he has a little bit of an existential crisis and starts really thinking about it all. even thinks the classic YJH ‘who am I?’ Then, not even one second later, THE FUCKING APOCALYPSE STARTS. THERE’S HIS ANSWER I GUESS!!!!!

#when i'll die i'll have to answer to God for making this post. its gotta be blasphemy or herasy or something #orv #omniscient reader's viewpoint #asks #yoo joonghyuk #yoo mia side story #orv spoilers #my posts #i never know how to format my posts. should i put 'read more' for a post of this length? i decided not to this time but lmk #sorry that it takes me 10000 years to respond. i have to reread all of orv every time someone asks my opinion on something

[its-time-to-write]

Hi y’all! This is my last unprompted angsty fic for a little! Gonna go back to our usually scheduled hijinks that are sitting in my request pile, I wanted to do this one first. I write all these as a way to deal with things that happen in my own life, whether it’s stressing about school and work, stupid romance, great romance, family, health, whatever, and I wanted to say (yet again) thank you for all the support. Sometimes I still can’t believe that you all like what I write but hey, there ya go

It’s funny, because my most popular fics are the ones that have been written directly out of my actual life. The ones that start out hard-to-deal-with, or with real, palpable heartbreak. The endings are often different because real life isn’t guaranteed a happy ending, but I’m allowed to take the past and see what it would be like if things went differently.

My characterization of Jamie is based on the only person I’ve ever really loved, which is why I can write his voice so clearly. I first watched Ted Lasso and was surprised at how similar they were, stupid hair and all. A lot of these fics are my way of archiving our story and immortalizing parts of it, as well as reminding myself that the love was there. It didn’t last and it wasn’t supposed to, but it was there.

Now, what’s real and what’s fiction? I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I will say that it’s more than you might think and less than you might hope for.

So if you read this current fic and think, “huh, that was a really specific premise,” well I got news for you! It is. I’m in the first part of my journey on this, the early stages, and this story is not the way I want things to go for me. But I’m hoping that by creating a good ending out of a rough beginning, I can better face whatever lies ahead for me whether I approach it on my own two feet or with the assistance of some really sick wheels.

Anyway, enjoy this or skip it, it won’t hurt my feelings!

how to love being alive

Jamie’s at training when he gets the call. He barely registers the words on the other side when he’s cursing something awful, enough to make Roy Kent blush, and saying something about an emergency before speeding out the door. He pauses for a moment to look up an address in his phone, then he’s tearing out of the parking lot in a manner that puts Colin to shame. 

To summarize, he’s not acting like himself. 

He pulls up to a chiropractor of all places and the girl at the front desk must be able to tell who he’s here for because she just points to a door down the hall. Jamie’s pretty sure he’s never moved this quick in his life and wonders if this could translate to the pitch. Sure he’s fast, but he could always be faster. 

He bursts through the door to see you borderline catatonic, staring at the floor while a doctor pats your arm. She looks at Jamie and says, “Let’s chat for a minute outside,” before he has a chance to say a single thing. Jamie can’t tear his eyes away from you as the doctor leads him out and shuts the door. 

“Thought emergency contacts were for like, hospitals and shit,” he says. 

The chiropractor shakes her head. Jamie notes that her name tag says “Dr. Hadley,” and has a vague memory of you mentioning her a few months ago. 

God, it feels like a lifetime ago. 

“We’re not confident she’s in a fit state to get herself home,” Dr. Hadley says. “Her headspace is a little messed up, which is to be expected. Usually people come to these types of appointments with some moral support.”

Jamie asks, “What kinds of appointments?” and Dr. Hadley tilts her head at him. 

“You are Mr. Tartt, aren’t you?” she asks and Jamie just scoffs because he can’t decide between responding obviously, or telling her no, he’s not Mr. Tartt, that’s his father. He’s just Jamie. 

Dr. Hadley knows who he is because she doesn’t live in a hole in the ground, so she doesn’t ask for identification. She takes his scoff as permission to keep talking, so she says, “She’s here for her MRI results. We’ve been in the process of treating a protrusion on her spine.”

Jamie is positive everyone in this office must think he’s on drugs because Dr. Hadley is talking like he’s supposed to know this, but for the life of him he knows you’d never said a thing. 

“Your girlfriend has been in a severe amount of pain over the last few months, and we’ve finally been able to see the extent of the problem. Apparently she thought it would just go away, but it never did. So now she’s here with us.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie says automatically. Because it’s true, innit? You’re not. You’ve been broken up for a month because he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take the irritation at attending his matches and the tossing and turning in bed at night and the fact that you were wound so tight that you’d snap at the most minor offenses. 

You hadn’t been surprised when Jamie said he couldn’t do it anymore, it’s over, and at the time he had wished that you’d shown just a tiny sliver of emotion. After all, a year and two months is a long time to be with someone for you to coldly slide him his key and then turn away as though he were a stranger. 

He could have sworn there was a glimmer of tears in your eyes, but they’d looked that way for a bit now so maybe it was just allergies. There’s no reason for you to have been in the verge of tears for the entire month before the breakup, right?

Right. 

But he can’t think about that now because Dr. Hadley is frowning at him in a way that so comically reminds him of Roy’s sister that he has to bite back a laugh. 

Everything’s all twisted. 

“I certainly hope your split was amicable,” Dr. Hadley says. “You’re the only one listed as her emergency contact. She needs someone to get her home safely.”

“Right,” says Jamie. “Yes. Fuck. Right. Um, what exactly is wrong with her?” 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head. “That’s her personal information to share with you at her prerogative. And we should probably go see her, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be alone for long.”

Jamie snorts at that. This doctor doesn’t know you at all. If you’ve received any type of bad news the last thing you want is people hanging around. 

Jamie used to pride himself on being the only one you’d let into the bad-new bubble. 

You don’t count with those other people, you’d said once while wrapped around Jamie so tight he thought he’d have to call Ted to bring a crowbar. You said, I don’t have to pretend around you. I don’t ever get tired of you.

Jamie bitterly thinks that that statement turned out to be a lie, but he shakes it off because you’ve only been separated a month, and apparently he’s still your emergency contact for a doctor he didn’t know you had been seeing and fuck if you didn’t look like the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen. He’ll pretend it’s ok for as long as it takes to get you home and comfortable, and then he’s calling this office to get his number switched off. 

So he follows Dr. Hadley back into the room as she softly says your name in order to break whatever trance has you studying the carpet like your final exam is in ten minutes. 

You can barely look at her as she whispers something about going home and being gentle, to which you nod and finally look at Jamie. 

He wonders if you recognize him, because the stare you have is so vacant that you might as well be looking at a stranger. 

“Is she on drugs?” he asks because it looks like you’re on drugs. 

Dr. Hadley shakes her head and holds out her arm to help you up. “No, she’s just in a lot of pain. And emotional distress. It’s a killer combo, and she’ll need extra gentle handling for a while. No sitting for too long, no bending, no lifting. There’s a back support at the front desk for you to take.”

Jamie thinks he hears something pointed in the way Dr. Hadley says, extra gentle. What, like he doesn’t know how bad an injury can take you out? He’s in the Premier League for fuck’s sake. He knows how to deal with a strained muscle. 

Dr. Hadley transfers your arm over to Jamie’s so smoothly that he barely understands what’s happening as she ushers you both out the door, thrusting a small foam roll into Jamie’s free hand. 

“For lumbar support,” she says. “Won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Jamie’s pretty sure he’s said thanks as you climb in the car and then he’s in the drivers seat and it’s dead quiet. 

“Right,” he says to the silence. “What the fuck.”

You’re picking at your nails something fierce. Jamie has to fight the urge to take your hand in his. A month of separation is not long enough for this shit. 

“Can you just drive?” you ask in a broken voice. “I don’t want to be sitting for longer than I have to.”

There’s a new pitch in your voice, one Jamie’s never heard before, so he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t turn on the radio or a playlist or a podcast or anything, just drives in silence. He knows if it’s quiet long enough, you’ll talk. 

He’s the opposite. He doesn’t need time to crack wide open, just a kind touch or a soft glance and he’s an open book. He was always shocked how early into your relationship you’d figured that out. A soft, “What’s on your mind, Jaim?” and he was unloading about whatever stress or fear he had. 

He’s two minutes away from your flat when you break the silence. “I have gradual onset paralysis,” you say in a voice devoid of emotion. “‘Gradual onset’ means it happens over time. Paralysis means, well…paralysis.”

Jamie can hear what you’re saying and he understands it, but what catches him is the way you’re like nothing more than a hollow body. Not cracking a joke, not picking a fight. Just- empty. 

Jamie says a long and drawn out “Fuuuckk,” because what else can you say? It’s not really his business to comfort you or to pry, except he’s the one the doctor called, so he allows himself one question. 

“How did it happen?”

Last he knew, you were healthy as a horse. 

“Two disks in my spine popped,” you reply, still in that same awful emotionless voice. “They’re not really sure how, could’ve been any number of things. Anyway, it got into my nerves. And my spinal cord. And it’s messing things up and it’s only going to get worse. The scans were to see if they could operate, because sometimes you can remove the shards. Or whatever it is. But I guess they can’t, because if they tried I’d definitely be paralyzed. So all I can do now is be in pain and wait for my legs to shut down.”

Jamie doesn’t know how to respond to any of that but he’s saved from thinking of an adequate response because he’s at your flat. 

It was smart of you not to sell it when you’d moved in with Jamie. He wonders if you knew the breakup was inevitable. 

He hops out and opens the door like a gentleman, offering his hand like he’s some Mr. Darcy-type shit, except you had both agreed that Roy was Mr. Darcy and he was Bingley. So it doesn’t fit at all except as soon as you’re done clutching his hand so you can get out without unnecessary pain, his hand flexes itself like he’s in that damn movie. 

It wasn’t even a conscious choice, just a thing his hand decided to do, and he definitely thinks he’s going to have to talk to Ted about this. Or maybe Sam. Sam knows shit and is good at empathy. Maybe he’ll know what to say when your ex-girlfriend tells you she’s not going to walk ever again. 

Jamie follows you to the door as you fiddle with the lock and push it open with a sigh. For a moment he doesn’t know if he should go inside, but it smells like honey and cinnamon because it’s the beginning of fall and he thinks that he should at least make sure you’ll be alright. 

He notices you’re moving weird. All stiff, like. You’re trying to get an icepack out of the freezer but you can’t maneuver in a way that’s comfortable so Jamie grabs it and hands it to you. 

You mumble, “Thanks,” and Jamie catches a glimpse of the perpetual glimmer in your eye. 

“D’you need me to call someone?” he asks. “I can get Keeley down here. Or fucking… Ted. Or Colin.” He doesn’t say Sam, because he needs Sam. He can’t talk to Sam if he’s here with you. 

You shake your head. Jamie wonders if it hurts to talk, but he remembers how much you hate the sound of your voice when you’re crying. 

You take a slow, shallow breath to collect yourself. “I’m ok,” you finally say. “Not much anyone can do, and you’ve got training. I- I didn’t know they’d call you. I still have to switch your number with someone else. I’m probably going to ask Keeley since my family’s still far away.”

“Right,” Jamie says. Not much else to say. Except- 

“You were seeing that bone doctor when we were together, and you didn’t fucking say anything?”

It’s accusatory and he knows it, but he can’t for the life of him say it kinder. Ted’s always on about communication and shit, and that is not communication. 

You shuffle over to the couch and use it to help you lay face down in the floor. The icepack is precariously balanced on the small of your back. 

“Didn’t know how to tell you,” comes your muffled voice. “Least, I figured out how to tell you too late. What was I gonna say, ‘Sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you for four weeks, I’ve got shit floating around in my spine that makes me hurt so bad I want to die?’ Sounds fucking stupid.”

Jamie wants to say, Swear jar because it’s a long-standing joke, but he catches the words right before they reach the tip of his tongue. 

“You could’ve said something,” he replies instead. “Chronic pain’s shit. It’s really shit and it makes you act like shit to the people you care about. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason.” As the words are coming out of his mouth, Jamie is reminded of a time when the roles were reversed, and you were giving him the “excuse versus reason,” speech. 

You’d said, You’re dad’s an abusive prick, Jamie. Makes sense that you’d have a lot of negative emotions. 

Fuck, if only you’d said something sooner. Maybe this would be something that you’d be cracking jokes about, or Jamie would be holding your hand, or he’d be laying right next to you as he runs his fingers through your hair. 

But your muscles spasm so that thought gets banished as you bite on your forearm in an effort not to yell. 

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says. “I don’t think you’re sorted on your own. I’m calling Ted.”

He walks to the other room so he can pretend he can’t hear your protests. 

—

Ted leaves training to Roy, Beard, and Nate. What’s the point in having four coaches if one of ‘em can’t leave for family emergencies?

Sure, you’re not actually family, but that’s Ted for you. He doesn’t do casual friendships. 

Jamie is out the door like a shot as soon as Ted knocks with a “Sorry, coach,” that Ted barely has a chance to wave off. 

Ted doesn’t say much once he’s inside, just rambles on about training and Kansas and Henry. He’s clattering around in your kitchen and you can’t find it in yourself to care what he’s doing so you just keep laying on the floor, willing your back to stop hurting. 

Finally, he comes over and sets down a smoothie in a short glass with a straw. 

“It’s so you can drink it without moving,” he explains. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say more to the couch legs than to Ted.

He sighs from where he’s crouched down next to you. “You don’t really have a choice, darlin’. You have to do this. The question is, are you gonna go through it alone?”

You shrug as best as you’re able. 

“Wrong answer,” says Ted, standing up. “You’ve got a whole crew of people here who are gonna root for you and support you with whatever you need. All you got to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Ah, fuck, you’re crying again and Ted can definitely tell because your shoulders are shaking. He’s pretty sure you’d want to save face so he stands up and says, “Beard’s coming over after training. Says he wants to figure out how to modify your house for a wheelchair or something. Thought I’d make us all dinner so we’re not so hangry when he mentions taking an ax to anything.”

The mental image of Coach Beard chopping down your stairs is enough to make you smile a little through your tears.

—

Waiting is really shitty. Like, really shitty. Every day is the same thing: tingly legs, shooting pains, phantom cramps. The worst was when Dani and Richard were over and you stood up to get something from the fridge, and your legs decided at that moment to lose feeling. You panicked with your arms held out for balance as you swayed back and forth for a moment, willing your feet to fucking move. They did, but not before Dani and Richard were on you in a flash, ready to catch you if you fell.

“Well that was weird,” you joke in an effort to cut the tension. They laugh, but you still catch their worried glance.

��You do not have to put on a brave face for us,” Dani says. “If you want to joke, we will joke. But if you want to cry, we will cry too.”

“You can cry,” Richard says, “I will just pour more wine.”

You laugh. There’s been a steady stream of Greyhounds at your flat for the last week and a half. Everyone and their mother (quite literally) has come by to see you. Your own parents were coming in a week to stay indefinitely while you sorted things out.

You wonder if it’s easier to lose control of your legs slowly or all at once? On the one hand, you at least have notice. But on the other hand, the long, drawn-out waiting feels like slow torture. Every day you wake up from restless sleep and experimentally wiggle your toes. Every day, you check off one more box on your mental calendar as you count down to a date that doesn’t even properly exist.

The only person who hasn’t visited is Jamie. You don’t blame him, though. Keeley’s come round almost every single day and has been successfully switched to your emergency contact. She’s the one you’re calling as soon as you discover you can’t move.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer. Your legs fall asleep more frequently and things are all numb. It’s like you know you’re in pain, but it’s not quite registering with your nerves.

It fucking sucks.

—

You don’t believe in intuition like spirits and all that, but you believe in it in that your brain can pick up things that you couldn’t if you were actually trying.

That’s why you’re pretty sure this is it.

Walking is pretty much a no-go right now, so you stiff-leg yourself to the couch and sprawl out as comfortably as you can.

You call Keeley, and she’s over in no time.

“Hi babes,” she says as soon as she’s through the door, “Can I call Rebecca for girls’s night?”

“Sure,” you say, “Might as well live it up.”

Keeley replies, “Great! She’ll be here in ten minutes,” and you laugh, really actually laugh, because of course Keeley’s already called her.

Rebecca swoops in all smiles and no sympathy which is great because if one more person pushes their lower lip out at you, you’re going to scream. She’s brought drinks and Keeley’s pulling out snacks and you’re going to talk and giggle until you fall asleep, ready for what the morning has.

“Is Shandy making a move on that one player?” Rebecca asks Keeley from the couch. 

“Nah,” Keeley calls back, “He said he wasn’t interested right now. Still hung up, I think.”

“What player?”  you ask. You know what Shandy’s like, and you feel for the poor guy.

Rebecca and Keeley are silent before Keeley says, “You wouldn’t know him.”

“Bullshit,” you reply. “I know everyone on that team and I know you haven’t signed anyone new recently. Is it Colin?” 

Rebecca shakes her head and gives Keeley a look. Keeley shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, babes.”

Rebecca turns to you. “It’s Jamie,” she says. “She’s been trying to bag him ever since Zava showed up.”

You shake your head. “She’s not right for him. He deserves someone better than that.”

Keeley’s back from the kitchen and scrutinizing your expression. “And what exactly do you mean by better?” she asks.

You laugh. “Oh no, not me. I wasn’t talking about me. No, I’m not- he needs someone different. Like, I don’t know, Roy’s sister, maybe? She’s great and a doctor to boot. Very caring too.”

“You’re caring,” Keeley says slowly, “And anyway, Molly doesn’t like him like that. They’re just friends.”

“Hang on, are you putting yourself in the same bracket as Shandy?” Rebecca interjects.

You shrug. “I was a complete bitch the last month we were together. There’s no excuse for it. I’m just surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“You were in fucking pain!” Keeley exclaims. “You said you weren’t sleeping and everything fucking hurt and you couldn’t even think straight.”

You grab a handful of candy from a bowl. “Keels, I appreciate the sentiment, but I majorly fucked it. Like, there’s no going back. So he can date whoever he wants as long as it’s not fucking Shandy. Can we please, please move on?”

Rebecca’s eyes are narrowed but they both acquiesce. “Keeley, what about your love life? I’m sure it’s boring as usual.”

Keeley shrieks and smacks her with a pillow. “Fuck off,” she replies. “I’ll have you know it’s going very well…”

—

You were right. You wake up still on the couch tangled in Keeley’s arms, and the standard toe-wiggle just… doesn’t happen. It’s quiet, the early morning type, the kind where the sunlight isn’t so harsh and birds are chirping softly and all of Richmond hasn’t quite got up to begin their day. 

As you look at your unmoving toes, the first thing you feel is a rush of relief. The waiting’s over, you think. 

You look over to the wheelchair that’s been leaning patiently against the wall all this time. Here’s the first day of forever. You’re in no rush for it to start, so you let Keeley’s little snores and Rebecca’s heavy breathing lull you back to sleep. 

—

It’s definitely a learning curve. And it’s frustrating. And if one more person catches you crying out of sheer rage, you’re going to start throwing things. But like Ted said, you don’t really have a choice. 

Your mom said, “The only way out is through,” then grinned at the murderous glare you shot her way. She opened her phone and pulled up a picture of you, age three. “Same lovely expression as always,” she remarks cheerfully. That cracks your frown. You always were a funny kid. 

It takes a while to figure out how to get places. Keeley (the absolute angel) volunteered, but she’s busy with the PR firm and quite frankly, a little too delicate to help you into a car. You made the mistake of saying this exactly one time and because subject to a rant about how she’s “not weak, just PETITE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”

Roy had punctuated her argument with a couple “That’s fucking right, babe"s all while rolling his eyes behind her back. It made you giggle. 

The general consensus was that at any given reasonable hour (or unreasonable if you’re Richard or Bumbercatch) a Greyhound or coach would be able to get you where you’re needed. And today, that place is Nelson Road. 

“How often does Jamie come visit?” Jan Maas asks, straightforward as ever. 

“Um, never,” you reply. “We broke up, remember?”

“Right,” agrees Jan Maas. “We all know that, I just assumed you had gotten back together.”

You laugh. How absurd. “And why on earth would you assume that?”

“Because he talks about you all the time,” comes his prompt reply. 

Huh. That’s interesting. You haven’t received so much as a single emoji from Jamie, but hadn’t thought a thing of it. But this, this is strange. This does not fit into your idea of how broken up people act. 

“Weird,” you say. “Wonder what the fuck that’s about.”

Jan Maas shrugs and moves to lift you from the car. 

—

It’s weird to be at Nelson Road, number one because it’s been FOREVER, number two because you’re eye-level with all sorts of things you’d never noticed before (ahem, part of the wall Roy kicked that no one cared to patch up), and number three because the last time you were here, it was as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend. 

Jan holds open the door as you roll in, ready to face whatever lies in wait. 

It turns out whatever is a very excited Ted and Beard as well as a neutral Roy who present you a coaching jacket and a whistle. 

“You’re coaching with us today because that little rat bastard Nate went to the dark side,” Beard says. 

You remark, “Tell us how you really feel,” earning a snort from Roy and a chuckle from Trent Crimm. 

“Oh yeah,” Ted says, “this is Trent. He’s writing a book.”

“Cool,” you say, “but you do know I know jack shit about coaching?”

Beard shrugs. “Neither do we. Worked out pretty well so far.” That earns another snort from Roy. 

“Right,” you say. “Well, I guess I’m up for anything.”

“You mean ‘down,’” says Ted. “Oh I’m sorry, is it too soon?”

“Never,” you reply. “It’s never too soon to make trauma-related puns and this world, it’s either laugh or cry. So fuck it, I’m going to laugh.”

“Fuck yes,” grunts Roy before turning on his heel to yell at the team to GET THE FUCK ON THE PITCH YOU LITTLE PRICKS!

—

You don’t do much except sit there and watch as the coaches yell and point and run drills. It’s a chore to remind yourself not to check out Jamie’s butt as he runs by so you start thinking not yours, not yours, like a mental mantra. 

He’s not looking at you so you won’t look at him and you’re sure it won’t be a problem because there are so many people to look at and talk to, except lunch rolls around (haha) and you sit at the head of a table and Jamie’s on the bench right next to you. So. There goes the no eye-contact plan. 

You take exactly two bites of your sandwich before thinking fuck this and pushing yourself back so you can roll away. You can just take the elevator to see Becca. 

You’ve made it a good way down the hall when you hear Jamie calling your name while saying, “Wait,” so you move a little faster. 

But it’s still new and you’re painfully reminded that arms are not legs so he catches you with ease. 

 “The fuck are you running away for?” he asks, and you want to point out that technically, you weren’t running. Metaphorically though, he’d be right. 

“I’m not running,” you reply. “I was just going to see Rebecca.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “I know you, and that was running. Is it because of me?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how much you’ve been looking up today. Your fucking neck needs a break so you rub it and look straight ahead, past Jamie at a life-size decal of O’Brien on the opposite wall. 

“Why would I be running away from you? You’re not- I’m the shitty ex in this situation. I’m the one who fucked things up, Jamie, so… you don’t have to like, pretend that it’s your problem. I actually think it would be better if you were just mad and avoided me instead of whatever the hell is currently happening.”

Jamie rubs his jaw. He should be exasperated, he should, but instead the gears in his mind are turning. A few words stick out to him and then it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place. 

“Hang on,” he says slowly. “Hold the fuck up. Did you mess things up on purpose?”

The moment the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back and apologize, because there’s no way they’re actually true, except you have a look on your face that can only be described as guilty. 

“Fuuckkk,” Jamie breathes out and you hurriedly interject, “It wasn’t intentional! At least, not at first. It started because I was irritable because I hurt a lot, and then I convinced myself that I was faking it so I got mad at myself for being a little liar. And then I couldn’t sleep because I hurt so bad and everything was making me uncomfortable so I started snapping at you. I noticed it pretty quick so I figured I’d get the pain checked out and sorted because I didn’t think pulled muscles were supposed to last this long. And it turned out that it wasn’t a pulled muscle but some of my disks were all weird, and then one day in between physical therapy and the chiropractor, I fell on my back and jostled everything wrong and it fucking popped.”

Jamie thinks he knows exactly when that was. He remembers you saying something about falling while walking to your car after work and him asking if you needed ice. It was at the tail end of things, and he’d taken your stiffness figuratively as opposed to literally. Like, you were acting all cold because you hated him, not because you couldn’t move. 

“So,” you continue, “I just leaned into it. I mean, Dr. Hadley was only one of my doctors, but she’s the one who told me I- you know, could end up like this. She said if things popped and it got into my spinal cord or fluid or whatever and they couldn’t get it out, it was only a matter of time before it messed everything up. They only way to stop it at that point would be to not move so either way, I end up stuck.” 

You half-sob, half-laugh. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I could tell you were already annoyed with me so I just decided to let it happen. You’re better off without me, anyway. I hate asking for help and I hate when people give me empathetic looks or what-fucking-ever, and I was going to have to ask you for a lot of help. You don’t even fucking have time for that, Jamie.”

Jamie is at a loss for words, and you’ve run out of things to say. 

You stare at each other in the hallway by the elevator, breathing heavily. You’ve both triggered each other’s fight-or-flight response, and it seems you’re both down for a fight.

“Right,” Jamie says finally, “ok, yeah, ok. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to have to deal with this?”

You nod. 

“Right,” he says again. “That’s fucked up.”

You don’t respond and he looks at you closely. “You know that’s fucked up, yeah?”

You shrug. 

“Jesus, babe.” Jamie runs his hands through his hair. He’s going to have to fix his headbands. “Alright,” he says yet again, “look. Dr. Sharon and me- we talk. And, you’re supposed to be able to talk to people about shit like this. Like, me playing football isn’t supposed to mean I don’t have time for the people I love. And if you’re feeling that way or if you’re hurting, you have to tell me so I don’t think you’re being all pissed off because you hate me. That’s the whole point of love, babe. You take care of each other’s shit.”

“Jamie, I can’t get places easily anymore. I can’t drive and I can’t go up steps. I will never be able to storm the pitch to kiss you or walk with you in Brazil. I get mad really easily because everything’s so fucking frustrating and I just want to punch something.” You shake your head. “You don’t deserve any of that. You need someone who can be there for you and isn’t a total pill to be around.”

“Are you fucking trying to push me away?” he asks.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Obviously!”

“Well fucking don’t. You almost had me the first time, but good luck getting rid of me now.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“For fuck’s sake, just kiss,” groans Will, walking by with an armful of laundry. 

“Fuck off, William!” you both say in unison and then Jamie’s on one knee, eye-level with you and brushing a thumb across your chin. 

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathes. “You have to remember that you can talk to me, yeah? Just promise you’ll remember.”

You nod, unable to speak. 

“Good,” he says. “We’re giving this another go. And if you can’t kiss me on the pitch, might as well do it here, yeah?”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

[pynkgothicka]

Dark! Arkham Knight! Jason Todd x Fem! Reader

a/n: Ive finally created a way to do personal work and requests at the same time!! My hiatus is over as now I’m going to be pumping works out more often!!

Tags/Warnings: NONCON, breeding, creampies, VIOLENCE AGAINST READER, Yelling, stalking, Cocky Mista Todd

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

🐉

Something wasn't right.

The Arkham Knight had been chasing you for what seemed like ages. He was so determined to get you, and you had no clue why. You should’ve known to leave whenever you were told to, but you had to be stupid and missed the buses. If only you learned from your mistakes, you wouldn't be where you are now, cornered in an alleyway with this militarized robot on your tail.

He seemed closer than ever now, finally in view. The only source of light being his helmet. He stopped his chase and slowed down to a slow walk, the sound of his boots hitting the ground with every step he took. A taunt nonetheless. You backed closer into the wall trying to disappear. His steps stopped, and leather touched your face forcing your head up. You still kept your eyes shut, not wanting to face the man who's been hunting you for game. 

"Look at how scared you are… You scared I'm gonna hurt you?" His robotic voice echoed in your ear. All you could do is nod. "Now why would you think that?" His gloved hand trailed lower, fingers grazing your collarbone. One dug its way in, feeling your bone, as if some kind of awkward massage. 

“Please, dont hurt me…” You begged out, finally opening your eyes to look at just how close he was to you. The automated voice within his headpiece, his heavy breathing echoing all around you. Just another way his mere presence taunted you.

“Scarecrow certainly was right, you're one of the pretty ones, it's sad that all that is going to waste. Just for a pitiful job.” That's when you felt it, the barrel of a gun right in your abdomen. The metal was cold, yet stung. 

You were going to die here, and no one would even recall or remember you.

He seemed hesitant, to say he's killed people all night. You couldn't comprehend it, why isn't he getting it over with?

“I don't have to kill you though, now do I? Scarecrow just wants you gone, he never said ``indefinitely dead.” He looked off to the side as if he was weighing his options. “ We can't have anything happen to the cloudburst tonight, and you're one of the few people who worked on it.” His gun slowly moved away, the sting of the cold metal disappearing.

“You're not going to kill me…?”

“Nope, it seems as if you've gotten the better of me. However, I do want to have a bit of fun first.” 

He pushed you further into the wall, your flimsy clothes getting torn off in the process. He was trying to get everything off as quickly as possible. 

 You cried out as he popped off your bra, your chest flying out. He pinched at them laughing when you squealed out. 

 He pulled down his military pants along with his boxers, cock popping out. He was leaking pre. “This is what a night of stress and muder does to you. And just the sight of you has me like this, now go ahead and touch it.” You shook your head as he finally let go of you.

“N-NO I don't want to.” You choked on your own tears.

“You don't want to?! Oh sweetheart you just don't know do you?”

The Knight grabbed at your hair and banged your head against the wall. You screamed out in pain collapsing to the ground, head in hands. You touched your head, the tips of your fingers coming back red. It wasn't anything life threatening but was still there

 “I when I tell you to d something, you better fucking do it! You hear me!?!” He growled at you hysterically.

“Yes! Yes…” You cried out. He laughed at you stroking his cock, precum leaking on your bruised body.

“This is just turning me on even more! Now sweetheart, get back to it.” You reluctantly grabbed at his girth stroking him, his juices coating your fingers. He groaned out, helmet glowing in the night. His hand fell on top of your own speeding up your pace

“That's it, get it all nice and wet. In a minute this is going straight inside those sweet little guts of yours, I hope you're not a virgin… who am I kidding if I just happen to take that too and kill Batman, god this would be the most awesome night don't cha think?” You kept silent, tears falling down your face even more.

He was right.

You were a virgin.

The Knight grabbed you by your hair once again and pulled you back up, forcing your legs to wrap around his waist. “And would you look at that, you're already dripping!” he dug his fingers inside you, scooping out your juices. He then smeared them all over your face, a mixture of cum and tears painting you.

“I don't think you’d mind it if I Slipped in real quick?” He grabbed the base of his cock, rubbing the head in between your folds. The noise it made disgusted you, why were you so aroused with how he was treating you? Are you the monster here?

He bottomed out inside you, your head falling back in a breathy gasp. He was huge, and you could feel him splitting you apart.

But he didnt care.

He instantly got to work bouncing you on his cock, nothing else mattering. His gloves holding you closer to him by your back. Your walls clamped down on him in a instant, The Knight let out a breathy moan pushing you into the wall in a sex filled frenzy. 

It was almost passionate if he didn't beat you up beforehand,breaking your walls down where you would be susceptible to him.

“Shit I’m about to cum so deep inside those guts, fucking-”He paused chasing his high before stopping and you knew instantly what happened as a new found warmth filled you. You fell slumped against his shoulder. “Look at that, just bred you baby…”

“No… I dont… I cant-” He shushed you quickly,hitting a button on the side of his mask. It came up in a set of gears and mechanics. He leaned in kissing you passionately. 

“Shit, I’m going to have to keep you for sure… You cant be running around while I kill that freak of nature huh?”

#dark writing #yandere x reader #fem reader #jason todd x reader #tw stalking #tw violence #mature theme #tw yandere #tw dark content #yandere #yandere blog #tw sa #dc smut #dc batman #dark batman #detective comics #dark jason todd #jason todd #arkham knight #dc comics #tw noncon

[hana-no-seiiki]

some random idea i got in my head idk if youve done this or not but

yan!oc (any of them) x yan!reader who already has a darling

maybe yan would kill readers darling? but how would yan!reader react to that?

just wanted to share

YAN OCS x YAN! READER HEADCANNONS (isayasifimnotthecreatorofthesecharacters)

Note that I won’t include much reactions moreso ways reader can respond or work around the OCs. Otherwise it’s up to your imagination how you would feel/react to these scenarios.

Been a while since I wrote for my children. I really miss Eve and Amir ngl oTL

Since it’s been such a long time I’ll semi-write this as if I’m talking about them for the first time.

Midnight Darling (College Based OCs)

I feel like many of my yan! ocs especially the college based ones (midnight darling tag if you’re interested in them) just wouldn’t care. They’re already in a harem you’ve created and don’t expect you to be monogamous. They’re more yandere in the sense that they love to invade your privacy/think they know what’s best for you/have no concept of boundaries whatsoever. Like loyal rabid fans.

Specifically speaking for Midnight Darling, you’d have to show extreme favoritism and be super obvious about your feelings for your darling to be suspected and to be targeted.

I think Reader of that universe would be smart enough to use the Yandere Harem to their advantage instead of exposing themself.

Your darling might take advantage of that though. Tell you that you don’t really love them if you keep sleeping around so often.

But in reality you do that just to appease those animals for the sake of your darling’s safety.

Oh and the faculty just shit on your darling’s grades. Your darling prolly gets bullied on the daily too.

In the case of Guest is God (Host Club Based OCs)

Another contender for,

Monogamy is a social construct we don’t give a fuck

Especially since many of these people are a bit more mature and smart than the college ocs.

In this scenario though, they’ll be the ones using your feelings as an advantage.

You want to be alone with your darling? You have to make sure your guest is completely satisfied by the end of the night. You want to take a break so your darling can give you some comfort head? You have to hit the quota for this month then, you slacker!

One thing they’ll have over your head though is that your darling can very much be forced into Host work like you were. So you have to work really hard in order to prevent that. Right?

Next up we have Love Multiplied: Invasion of Your Heart! (Idol Industry Based OCs

Eve (Yan! Idol) would be just-

He would honestly fucken steal your darling.

Of course he would play around them and treat them like shit. But that would be your fault after all!

He only wanted to be yours, but you went ahead and cheated on him with this nobody!! And that nobody doesn’t even love you like he does.

He’s a charming piece of shit when he wants to be. He’s an idol after all. It didn’t take too long.

You have two options here:

You can appease him. Say that he’s your main hoe and that your darling is just a past-time. Jisoo(his real name, Eve is his stagename) would never fucken believe that ofc that perceptive mf but it’ll sooth him enough to have him let go of your darling for a while.

Orrrrr you could just fight him. Yandere on Yandere. Wholeass murder his ass.

You could even do both.

My other LM:IOYH ocs aren’t fully fleshed yet so I’ll just generalize the rest.

The idols would most likely do some gaslight, girlkeep, girlboss tactics to your darling and either do a Jisoo and steal the damn person or make your darling hate you.

The managers/higher ups would most likely organize something to have darling killed.

And the friends outside of the industry type characters would most likely just straight up resort to murder. Direct and to the point. If not sour your opinion on darling.

Next are misc ocs!

Our ever popular Himbo! Yan would probably support you. As long as you manipulate him well enough. That is until he figures out that he likes you in a non platonic manner. Then shit hits the fan.

Amir (Tsun! Yan) would probably lose his feelings for you. Or at least desperately try to. He doesn’t match well with someone who likes someone else. Much less is yandere for someone else. One of if not the only yan who has the mind to let go. Out of fear or betrayal? Who knows.

Tries to avoid you but then literally everything reminds him of you so he’s just dying inside.

Smol chance but he could attempt to be your darling/replace your darling. He at least has the fashion/style know how down. He can try his darn hardest to act like them too.

Mori (Yan! Delinquent) would prolly have a voyeuristic view on it. He would imagine himself as your darling. His head would be in full delulu. Might even help you just so he could watch potentially fuck your darling and finger himself to it (he’s trans)

For @yoru-no-seiiki readers, Cassiel (Yan! Protagonist) doesn’t even see darling as competition. Like unless you’re the yandere to actively harm your darling, they wouldn’t give a crap about them. If you are however, they’d most likely keep you two apart. They can be sadistic if need be, and sees the idea of you not even knowing if your darling is alive or not as exciting. If anything it’d be good fuel for you to keep harming them.

But yeah my yans aren’t really murder hobos since I prefer writing the DISRESPECT part of yanderes rather than the violence. But yeah!! here are their ways of dealing with yan! reader.

#hns.ask💌 #Midnight Darling 🏫 #Guest is God 🎰 #Love Multiplied 👾❤️ #hns.eve #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yandere scenarios #yandere ideas #yandere himbo #tsun yan #yandere ocs #yandere harem #yandere college

[frogcoven88]

My Thoughts on Wish 💫💜🌳🐐🫧

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD⚠️

FUCK I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

First of all, this review is dedicated to that one Wish stan on Twitter who said I have "no media literacy" when I tried to say that Magnifico wasn’t really threatening, but wasn’t trying to start off a big fight or anything.

I hope that person is having a wonderful day, and I hope this review proves that I do actually have media literacy 🥰🥰

Now, back to the film:

I really wanted to like this movies guys. A film about the origins of the wishing star sounded amazing!

And after I saw the film TWICE in theaters, I was in love. I thought surely my opinion wouldn’t change.

But…the more I thought about the movie, the worst it got.

For example, the songs. I don’t think I need to explain to you guys why "I let you live for free and I don’t even charge you rent" and "throw caution to every warning sign" and "watch out world here I are" DO NOT WORK.

I don’t blame the songwriters for this, because I’m sure they are very talented people.

But they were clearly not the people who should have been in charge of the music.

Not to mention the fact that Julia Michaels was given TWO WEEKS to write “This Wish”….

The Characters

Asha 💜

I like Asha’s design enough, like her braids. But her personality is as bland as a scoop of vanilla ice cream (jk, vanilla ice cream is goated).

Lots of people have complained that the “adorkable” leading lady trope has worn out its welcome.

I used to disagree since those “quirky” characters were some of my favorites (Like Rapunzel, Mirabel, and Moana), but Asha has definitely reached my limit with them.

Rapunzel, Anna, Moana, and Mirabel all feel like distinct characters from each other (yeah stfu ModernGurlz), but Asha feels like an imitation of them, like the cheap Walmart version.

And she’s not really interesting either, she has a passion for art, but the film doesn’t do anything with it. In fact, nothing about her feels genuine. She feels so hollow and like she only has two personality traits: Quirky and the protagonist.

Like, during “This Wish” (which is probably the worst Disney “I want” song ever) I never felt connected with her. It just felt like, oh this is the Disney “I want” song because this is a Disney movie.

I didn’t understand what Asha wanted, “something more for us than this”? Okay…what about you? What do you want?

With all the other Disney “I want” songs, I could feel a connection and what the character wanted.

So yeah, Asha is probably the worst protagonist in the modern era of Disney. At least in terms of writing.

And while I did say I like her design, I prefer her concept arts.

King Magnifico 🫧

Chris Pine seems like he is having a blast in the recording booth, and I gotta say his performance was pretty good. But it wasn’t enough to save this character :/

So, the main problem with his character is that I can kinda agree with him on the whole wishes thing. But, I also barely found him threatening.

The most threatening things he does in this movie is crush a bunch of balls (that’s what she said) that make people feel sad and chain everyone to the ground.

Not only that, Magnifico’s use of his magic is SO LAME! Another major reason I was never intimated by him is because he never did anything really scary or threatening with his magic, all he could do was create giant hands and chain people up. Like…ok? Is that all you got? Really? 😑

Also, I don’t think I need to tell you that his villain song SUCKS ASS. You know it, everyone knows it. I’m not getting into it. Go listen to a real villain song like "Hellfire" or “Friends on the other side" instead.

As for the other characters, I don’t have much to say about them unlike Asha and Magnifico.

Star ⭐️

The Star was really really cute, even tho they were just a Luma/marketable plushie. And also REALLY reminds me of a squish mallow, am I the only one who sees that?

I should definitely mention how he was originally gonna be a StarBoy, but we’ll get to that later don’t you worry. That is a VERY important element in our discussion.

The Other Characters This Movie Has

Amaya is so BORING! She barely has a character outside of being the queen and Magnifico’s wife, she was just…there. You could remove her from the movie with very little tweaking and nothing would change.

I would’ve preferred it if she was also a villain like Magnifico, which WAS originally in the script. But like StarBoy, that is something we will get to later.

The Teens are fine, but really forgettable. I like how they are all based off the Seven Dwarves, that’s cute. But it feels like they didn’t have any character outside of that.

Yeah, Dahlia is Asha’s bestie, but there wasn’t enough scenes between them to show me their dynamic to make me feel like their friendship was genuine.

Simon ended up snitching out on Asha and betraying the Teens in the middle, but I literally couldn’t have cared less because what do we know about this guy other than he’s sleepy and gave his wish to Magnifico?

As for the other Teens, just like Amaya, they could’ve been removed from the script and barely anything would change. The grumpy one had some sassy moments, and he’s voiced by Harvey Guillén (Perrito’s VA) so that’s something I guess. The shy one had this one gag that had comedic potential, but wasn’t really expanded.

And as for the other Teens…uh…I can’t remember a single thing they did honestly.

And then there’s Valentino…fuck that goat man. 😑 I love Alan Tudyk and his roles in other (better) Disney movies, but yeah Valentino is definitely my least favorite role he’s ever done.

All of his jokes were unfunny, and were mostly butt jokes. Which is probably my least favorite form of comedy ever that I cannot stand for the life of me.

Speaking of which, this movie just was not funny. None of the jokes made me laugh or chuckle or even smile.

Raya and the Last Dragon is a Disney movie that I really don’t like, but there were some jokes that got a chuckle or smile out of me. Wish didn’t even have ONE good joke.

Uhh…Asha’s grandpa was build up as someone important but he just peaces out in the middle of the movie with Asha’s mom, who did not do a single thing other than a ball getting shattered making her sad.

And that’s all the characters in this movie.

Legacy Nods, why they do not work

Alright, what else is there to talk about?

Maybe the endless amount of Disney references? I get it’s the 100th anniversary film and all and Disney has had Hidden Gems like that in their films. But the difference is the ones in previous films were subtle and hidden in the background, and it would probably take you a rewatch to see it.

But in Wish? They all feel shoved down your throat. It’s like: “HEY REMEMBER THIS MOVIE??" “REMEMBER THAT??” “DON’T YOU WANNA WATCH THAT MOVIE???” It’s so exhausting.

When I heard the movie was gonna have “legacy nods” as they liked to call it, I was excited and thought it would be so much fun to point them all out and to pay closer attention to the background.

But instead every nod was thrown at my face and was heavily obvious. Disappointing 😔

The Animation

Let’s get to the animation now. It’s probably (one of) the most discussed things about this movie, especially when the teaser first dropped last year.

Lots of people were complaining it looks like a Disney Junior show or Ai and said it looks unfinished. Even one of my best friends who was just as excited for this movie as I was admitted it looked weird.

At first, I loved this art style and thought it was beautiful. And I was determined it would look even more beautiful on the big screen.

And now? I…actually still like it. I definitely don’t hate it, and thinks it gets some getting used to. I think it’s actually kinda pretty.

Apparently it’s supposed to be watercolor and combined with 2D animation, which is neat.

But compared to the films like the Spider Verse films or Puss In Boots 2, yeah it’s not the best.

I personally would’ve preferred it if the film was in 2D, Disney’s 100th anniversary would’ve been a PERFECT time to return 2D animation! But, nope 😒

Yeah it’s bad, but…

I know I’m making it seem like I hate this movie, but I really don’t. I’m disappointed in it more than anything.

If anything, I’m thankful this movie was still made.

Why?

Well, easy.

It allowed many people to be able to tell their own version of the story.

I’m sure we’ve all heard of StarBoy and the cut Evil Amaya.

And yeah, these concepts could’ve made this movie 1000x better.

But because of these concepts, so many amazing people have been given the opportunity to rewrite the movie and give amazing stories.

I have read so many wonderful Wish rewrites, which are so much better than the film.

At the end of the today, Wish is a bad movie.

But, I’m glad it exists.

Without it, we wouldn’t have gotten so many amazing stories.

I’m gonna give Wish a 4/10, still bad, but I appreciate its existence for the rewrites alone.

#wish #disney wish #wish disney #wish 2023 #disney wish 2023 #asha #magnifico #king magnifico #star #wish star #star wish #asha wish #asha disney #queen amaya #amaya #valentino #valentino wish #valentino the goat #starboy #asha x star #asha x starboy #magnifico x amaya #amaya x magnifico #star x asha #disney movies #disney #movie review #disney review

[sashi-ya]

➡ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖’𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓? ʟᴀᴡ x ɢɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ .mini scenario - 800~ .sfw/suggestive language

Getting to know the meaning of a heart, carving the sweet memories of a dark past on his skin.

“Takes your shirt off whenever you are ready” you professionally say, preparing the needle, the machinery, the ink. He hums and slowly lets his shirt fall from his shoulders to his hands.

His caramel skin, it’s such a delightful treat to your eyes. “So, let me place the stencil on you… this might feel a little cold” you tell him as you spray his chest. You can see his pores reacting, his flesh getting a little bumpy, his nipples hardening.

You swallow… be professional. Be… professional… don’t let the closeness to your face make you weak.

You take gasp of air, and place the blue prints of the drawing of a beautiful heart with a smiling face on it… is that a Jolly Roger? You can feel the way his chest goes up and down slowly, the warmth of his breathing grazing your forearm as you fix the stencil. His gaze is glued to the ceiling of your studio; Law looks different from the day you tattooed his hand. This tattoo is full of love, you can see it.

“Awesome! now that it’s placed, would you mind taking a look at it and tell me if it’s ok?” you ask him, bringing a mirror in your hands.  

Law blesses you with a soft smile, he inspects his reflection while you try to focus on whatever is around but his chest. “It’s ok, (Name)-ya” he almost whispers, a low speech tinted with perhaps yearning for other times. “Good ~” you hum, putting the mirror back on it’s place and pointing at the tattoo chair.

The surgeon drags himself to the cot, he lays on his back and waits for you. You, trying to fight the way your heart beats faster, breath to calm yourself.

“So, if you are ready we can start” you inform him, with the machine turned on and new gloves covering your hands. “Go ahead, it’s ok if it hurts” he sighs, fixing his icy stare on yours. You give him a sweet beam, “I will do my best, don’t worry”

Your light shines over his skin allowing your eyes to enjoy every detail of his skin, even barely noticeable white spots here and there. You wonder what happened to him, perhaps he had been sick?

The buzzing sound of the needles going in and out start to fill the studio, they are ready to perpetuate black lines on a living canvas. “Here we go” you inform him right before the first spot is covered. He flinches a little and tries to dissimulate it, how cute is that.  

You focus yourself into creating the perfect heart ever made on his beautiful chest, you will be part of him eternally, how lucky will be the person who will kiss those lines… “So, are you doing this heart for something in special? Or just art? It’s so beautiful and the fact that you designed it yourself, it’s even better!” you chime, while wiping the excess of ink that drains from the scarring process.

“I- yes. It’s because of the man who saved my life” he says, shortly and concisely. “I see… well, this is truly beautiful, Law” you whisper back as you keep working on the smile of the centre piece. “Thanks…”

You bite your lip, how sad… what happened to that man? Why is he tattooing something in his honour? Is he dead? Probably… You place your hand on his chest for bare seconds before continuing further once you realize such thing. Like an unspoken “I’m sorry” you let it there; the latex of your gloves being the only thing in between your skin and his.

You notice him watching at your reflection on the mirror in front of you, your cheeks become hot, and your lips separate. Breathing becoming slightly haste, throat dry. You don’t dare to look at him directly, but you know he knows you know he is watching you. A little smirk garnishes your commissures, since the time you tattooed his other hand, tension built in between you two… and it feels so exhilarating, it makes you weak.

The last curl is added, at this point you are exhausted. Because of the tattoo? Not exactly. You are stressed out from trying to dissimulate the way you lust over this man.

“Good, it’s done!” you announce, cleaning all the excess black matter dripping from the design. “I wouldn’t mind if you took a little longer” he says, and even if someone would probably take it as an insult, the smirk on his face can only mean one thing.

Perhaps, the lucky one to kiss those lines will be you after all…

#trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x oc #one piece #law one piece #law x y/n #law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x oc #law imagine #trafalgar law imagine #traffy #sashi-ya #trafalgar law one piece #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x y/n

[0sincerelyella]

Can you do a Josh Allen one shot where you are comforting him after losing a game? Possibly with cuddling and smut 😊 thank you!

Wins and loses -Josh Allen

Summary: Josh can take losses if big games a little harsher than other people, taking it personally, and beat himself up way more than the others. the only way he gets out of that headspace is y/n

Notes: UGH IVE BEEN WAITING TO WRITE FOR JOSH ALLEN he so is my second favorite NFL quarterback. we can ALL agree that josh allen is, pardon me, a giant cry baby during games, from ACTUAL fits, to yelling at his teammates, which doesn’t make me love him any less it just makes this plot so much easier to write so thank you for the personality trait josh. i

hope you love it!

i’m writing y/n as a bengals fan (from a bengals fans perspective maybe i’m bias but it’s to create more drammmmaaa)

i also may do a part two or make a josh allen series bc i had so much fun writing this, would anyone read it?

the score of the game was very conflicting to y/n. It was the play off game before the AFC championship, and unfortunately for y/ns love life and fortunately for y/ns sports influencer life the bengals had just beat the bills and are going to the AFC championship.

Y/n, growing up in cincinnati, was on the social media team for the cincinnati bengals. she grew up in ohio, and moved to wyoming for college in 2014 where she met her long term boyfriend when he transferred in 2015. in 2017 the two of them graduated and y/n traveled around the country for her boyfriends job until 2020.

in 2020 she got an offer to work on the bengals social media team, and she couldn’t turn the offer down. so she moved away from her boyfriend, josh allen, who lived in buffalo and was the quarterback for the buffalo bills, and she moved to cincinnati.

days like this made the relationship hard to maintain. she hadn’t seen josh since last may towards the end of off season when he had visited her. she texted him every day and called him every night, even showing up at his games all the way across the country to support him, but never being able to see him due to the teams tight rules.

today was especially hard. Today was the AFC divisional round leading up to the Championship game. The bills were playing against the bengals in cincinnati, the first game against the teams since the Damar Hamlin incident.

The bills had just lost, and like every bengals win, y/n walked onto the field, this time not only to congratulate her team, but also to chase after her extra emotional other half.

since they lost, their season is over and josh is going to stay with y/n for awhile. it’s all bittersweet.

y/n ran across the field. throwing mindless congratulations towards the teammates who are playing kansas city next week. She chased after josh who had already buried himself into the locker room. He took these loses. especially in the playoffs. feeling like, what the internet calls, “the bills curse” is all his fault.

y/n say down outside the locker room and waited. players passed her going in and out. she waved hello and goodbye to bills players as they retreated to their hotel before they flew back to buffalo tomorrow.

stefon diggs stopped as he left the locker room, sitting next to y/n. “he’s worse than usual” he said, leaning his head back on the wall. “do you know why?” he sighed. “i think it’s cause you were watching”

“i watch all his games stef.” y/n knew the bills very well. though she barely ever saw them, she texted them checking on josh often. she and stefon have grown to be good friends.

“yeah but i think this has something to do with your job, i think it’s mixed with jealousy” y/n nodded, sighing as the coach walked out of the room.

“no one else but josh. go ahead” coach said, causing y/n to practically fly out of the seat. she ran into the locker room in search for josh.

“joshy” she called out. he was sitting in a chair, in the middle of the room. it was empty, the only thing in the room is josh’s jersey he disposed of in the middle of the floor.

he sat in a chair, his head in his hands. y/n could tell from his red knuckles he had been punching the punching bag that hang in the corner of the locker room. she knelt infront of him. “hey joshy?” she placed her hand on top of his and waited for him to look at her. Josh moved his hands, and rested them on his knees. “y/n” he said, he’d been crying.

“oh josh,” she said, hurting for her boy. “it isn’t your fault” she said, gripping the hand on his knee. “y/n you don’t get it.” he tilted his head back. “no i don’t, i don’t know what it’s like to feel like you’ve done the wrong thing in such an important situation” she said, hinting to the decision between her job and her relationship

“y/n you know that’s not what i meant”

“i know i’m sorry, but really joshy. it isn’t your fault. it takes a whole team, and sometimes the other team just had an advantage” josh scoffed

“you have to say that, it’s your job. your team, the most important thing to you”

y/n moved her hand, placing it on his cheek, his hand moved to hold onto hers in fear of if he let go he’d lose her like he lost this game

“Josh. you know i couldn’t turn this down. it’s close to my sister and her kids, i grew up here. she said, watching tears well up in his eyes. “nothing is more important to me than you, but that doesn’t mean that other things arnt important to me” he nodded.

“but i’m sat there, infront of hundreds of thousands to millions of people who are saying it’s their year and i can’t make it. i can never make it” her heart broke as his desperate tone.

“babe, you need to practice staying cool”

“did joe teach you that?”

“joshua.” she said, huffing at his accusations “do you watch him play josh? you are just as good if not better than him” he watched her intently as she tried to make him feel better

“the only difference between you and joe, is your temper.” she stood up, reaching her arms out. “come here give me a hug” he smiled, stand in front of her, pulling her swiftly into a hug. “i’m sorry i snapped at you beautiful” he swayed them back and forth. “i just get so worked up and i don’t know how to control it, but never should i take it out on you” he kissed her forehead as she curled into his chest.

he hugged her close. “i love you beautiful” he said, smiling happily. “here stand on the chair let’s go to the car” he said, standing in-front of the chair, letting her jump onto his back.

he walked to her car, sitting her down, opening the passenger seat to let her sit while he drove her home.

the drive home was peaceful, he held her hand, resting it on the automatic stick in front of the consul. When the two arrived to y/ns apartment, the two of them changed, y/n into one of josh’s tshirts that she kept from before she moved, and josh in a pair of sweatpants.

the two turned on a movie and layed on the couch. josh held y/n on his chest, he played with her hair as he pretending to watch the movie that played. “you know princess, if you were on the field with me all the time i would’ve won the super bowl already” he laughed, hoping she’d laugh at his joke. instead of laughing, as he waited for a response all he got was heavy breathing. “oh come on, that was the most hilarious joke i’ve ever made and your sleeping” he whispered, tucking the blanket around only her as he skillfully snaked out from under her.

with perfect ease he picked her up and walked her to her room. after tucking her in, he got into her next to her and cuddled up next to her. he kissed her cheek, “i love you princess” he whispered and held her close. he yawned, closing his eyes and finally getting a good nights sleep.

#josh allen #bills mafia #buffalo #buffalo bills #nfl fluff #nfl football #nfl fic #nfl imagine #nflying #nfl players

[writingforcuteppl]

Dating Sparrow!Ben Headcannons 

WARNINGS: Swearing, smut

SFW:

How it started:

Ben Hargreeves is a little shit. He believes he’s the most amazing person in the world. Someone that gets what he wants, of course, that was until he met you.

Ben saw you for the first time after a mission with the Sparrows. You were looking at how everyone was cheering for them after another successful mission.

Yeah, they had powers, and they put their lives at risk, and you were thankful the world had someone like them, but they were way too cocky.

You believed that if they wanted to help because they only care about the well-being of the people, they wouldn’t show off that much.

Anyways, Ben saw you looking at him, at least, that’s what his ego made him think.

He got closer to you. Expecting you to be amazed by him. But you were unimpressed

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” You looked at Ben. You won’t deny he was hot. All the posters and billboards weren’t doing him any justice. “I mean, I know I’m handsome, want a picture? It lasts longer”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, he may be hot, but you could tell he was egocentric

You started to turn around, ready to go on with your day, until you felt his hand grab your wrist

“At least can I get your name?” There was something in his eyes that was different, something soft and sweet

You just smiled and said, “No”

He was shocked. No? No one has ever told him that. You took advantage of his reaction to free yourself from his grasp

Ben took that personally.

As soon as he saw you disappear in the crowd, he went straight to Fei, asking her to follow you, she was about to ask him why, but after all the years being siblings, she knew better not to ask

And then, it was like Ben was everywhere you went

Outside work, at restaurants, your favorite coffee shop, at the park, everywhere

He tried so badly to make it look like a casual encounter, failing in the attempt

Always saying something cheesy like “Fate keeps making us meet” or “Is it I or the universe wants us to be together?”

You wouldn’t accept it, but it made your day whenever you saw him waiting for you.

When you least expect it, you were starting to look for him wherever you went, knowing full well he will be waiting for you. And Ben realized that.

After a few weeks, you decided to give him a change. Trying to hide your attraction to him was starting to get useless.

Ben just wanted to have an opportunity with you. So in one of your many encounters, he decided it was time to ask you out.

“Just one date, if you keep thinking that I’m an asshole after the date, I will stop” You didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but one date wouldn’t hurt

And you were right.

Ben had the full evening planned.

First of all, he didn’t want you to meet his siblings, at least not yet. You were way too important for him, and his siblings tend to criticize everyone and everything, so the more time he can keep you away from them, the better. So he bribed his siblings to leave the house so he could make this evening a special one.

He made this beautiful setting in the rooftop garden they had. A place where the two of you could talk without anyone interrupting at all.

The more you talk and the evening passed, the more you started to fall for him.

You didn’t understand how he could be so different when he was in front of other people and when he was only with you.

It was like he created a whole different persona.

“Can ask you something, Ben? And I really don’t want you to take it personally, but it’s something I realized…”

“Go ahead”

“Why do you act like a douche?”

Ben let out a dry laugh, he knew this question was going to come up at any moment, and of course, he knew the answer very well.

“Well, you see, I found out that when you are polite all the time, people tend to take advantage of you no matter what. They think you are some kind of gullible person, and they think they can do whatever they want with you, well, at least that happened to me. And, of course, with a family like mine… Believe me when I say they are the most competitive people. Always trying to show who’s the best, so naturally, I’ll be just like them, even if sometimes I know I can come up as someone despicable.”

It was the first time he was completely honest with anyone, and you could feel it.

The rest of the night was wonderful, the two of you learned about each other’s lives, maybe not everything, but at least the highlights of them.

It was starting to get late, so Ben decided it was time to take you to your home

“So..?” Ben asked when the two of you arrived at your apartment door

“So what, Hargreeves?”

“Am I still an asshole?”

You just smile and gave him a quick peck on the lips

“Not at all”

How he is in the relationship

So Ben is definitely part of the “I hate everyone but her” trope, you know, the “she’s the sunshine, and he’s the grumpy one.”

Like, he can be a douche to his siblings, but the moment he sees you, his humor completely changes.

Maybe that’s why all the Sparrows love having you around. It makes their brother more bearable to be around.

His siblings don’t know, but he would do anything to make you happy

He loves showering you with love, preferably when none of his siblings are around, but if he feels like doing it, he will, no matter whose present.

Not only that, but all his siblings are thankful you’re in his life. They know how he puts on this tough façade no matter what, even when he is hurting, but he seems more relaxed and in touch with his feelings when you are around, not having to fake anything.

Of course, that means a lot of teasing coming from the Sparrows

No matter what the two are doing, someone finds a way the find the two of you and start making any type of cheesy and mocking comments.

Ben was proud to have you as his girlfriend.

Taking every single opportunity to mention you or mention he now has a beautiful and fantastic girlfriend

He even mentioned you when he was having any type of interview (most of them after saving the city and completing a mission successfully)

By the end of the first month together, you were pretty sure everyone in the city knew your name (you were glad he only mentioned you, and he never really showed a photo of you)

It was like the two of you knew the reason for only mentioning you and never being seen together in public. You knew if anyone ever saw the two of you, you could be at high risk. Being a “hero” came with a lot of disadvantages, and one of them was putting everyone he ever cared about in danger.

Your relationship was private but not secret.

And you were okay with it. You didn’t want everyone snooping in your relationship.

Now with the powers.

Something that made Ben happy when the two of you started dating was the fact that you didn’t mind his tentacles at all.

It was like a normal thing for you.

You were so used to seeing him save the day with his powers that when you were around him, the fact that he was using his powers was normal for you.

He would use them daily, like when someone needed something from an unreachable place to move things around, or even when you were just too far from him, he would simply use his tentacles and make you move closer to him.

And you were completely fine with it.

NSFW:

How he is when having sex:

So a lot of dominance coming from Ben.

Something about being in control of someone turned him on so much.

And being controlled by him was amazing.

Of course, you being so used to seeing him use his tentacles almost for everything meant he would use them with you during sex.

He has this ability to not only control the tentacles but also focus on giving you pleasure.

The tentacles were an addition to all the experiences he gives you.

He loves edging you with them, making you beg for his presence to be near you.

He also loves using the tentacles to keep you from moving

Seeing you so helpless, begging for his cock always made him feel so important and needed

Of course, once he thought you had enough foreplay, he would fuck you senseless without the tentacles

(Not that they were really needed)

Been liked it rough.

Seeing how your eyes would roll whenever he was thrusting into you only made him go harder.

Being the way he is, he loves when you make any type of sound. It serves as a confirmation of how much pleasure he is giving you.

He also wants to show how much pleasure he’s giving you, so he fucks you hard enough that you can’t hold back any type of sound.

His competitiveness with Marcus shows even when he’s fucking you raw.

You tried hard not to be so loud, but Ben didn’t like that.

Ben stopped when he realized you weren’t as loud as you usually would be when nobody was around.

You whined as you just needed a little more to come undone

“What did I say, princess? I want to hear you.”

You just whimpered at his words, being weak whenever he called you “princess.”

He increases his pace, sending shivers down your spine and making you moan in the process and forgetting to stay in silence.

You were pretty sure Ben knew how to push your buttons, so you would do anything he asked.

Ben loved giving you praises of how well you were for him

Like, “Look at you, taking my cock like a good girl.”

Or “You are always so good to me, baby, always doing what I want.”

He said any of those things loud and clear so everyone, especially Marcus, heard how good he made you feel.

And, of course, the Sparrows wouldn’t leave both of you alone

Every single day after the two of you had sex, they would make comments

It was embarrassing for you to know they were mocking you only to bother Ben, but it was the complete opposite.

Ben enjoyed the comments and the mocking, making him proud, always sending a smirk toward Marcus as if he won some kind of contest.

You just hide your face in Ben’s neck, trying so bad the Sparrows didn’t see how embarrassed you were.

But not all the times you two had sex were like that

Sometimes the two of you wanted to feel the closeness of each other

Those nights were special

He was so tender and sweet

Always whispering sweet nothings to your ear

Always making sure you felt how much he loves you, making sure you felt ok and happy all the time

“You know how much I love you, baby? You don’t have any idea how good you always make me feel.”

Love actions:

He likes words of affirmation.

You know, having a father like Reginald, someone who barely shows any type of emotion even if we are talking about his own children…

Well, Ben liked hearing your feelings, and of course, he loves to listen to how much he means to you and how much you loved him, no matter what the two of you were doing.

You always make sure he knows how loved he really is and how a fantastic person he is

Ben wouldn’t admit it, but he loves all the praises you give him, and of course, he does the same when it comes to you.

He also loves showering you with love words, making you feel happy and loved all the time.

He just wants to give you all the love he wishes he had received all his life.

When the two of you are alone, he enjoys having you close to him

Sometimes he’s too scared of something happening to you

So those little moments he gets with you were pure golden

Ben Hargreeves was full of surprises, but fortunately, you were able to see the real Ben. And you are so glad the two of you crossed paths because he’s definitely the most perfect person in the whole world.

n a v i g a t i o n

#ben hargreeves #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves smut #ben hargreeves fluff #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy fluff #the umbrella academy imagines #tua #tua imagines

[thomasschabot]

saw you in a dream

quinn hughes x non-binary!oc (she/they pronouns)

they were simply a figment of quinn’s imagination, until she wasn’t

word count: 3.3k

warnings: vivid dreams, cursing, not soulmates!au but kinda soulmates!au without being weird

a/n: hi @puckmaidens!!! it’s me, your fic exchange partner. really hope you enjoy this little ditty 🤍 original idea didn’t go as planned but i’m crossing my fingers this will suffice. a very large thanks goes out to @wyattjohnston​ for creating and managing yet another super successful fic exchange AND for letting me borrow daisy for a fun little moment!!! hats off to you dem. @matthewtkachuk​ gets a big shout out for proofing this love u babe (also as a reminder non-binary people don’t owe anyone androgyny! or anything for that matter. all my little enby babies you’re perfect as is 🥰)

⭑⭒⭑

They were laughing the first time Quinn saw them. 

It was the head tilted back, mouth agape kind of laugh, and it was the most beautiful thing the man had ever seen. Quinn couldn’t tell if any sound was coming from the prettily parted lips, but he also didn’t care. Just watching them was good enough, and if given the opportunity he’d do it for the rest of his life. Fate isn’t that kind, however, so Quinn resigns himself to the idea that this perfect person will have to reside in his memory. There was a split moment where kind eyes met his own guarded ones, and Quinn felt the world stop spinning for a millisecond. Every single feeling, look, thought, was heightened when they smiled and raised their glass in a silent toast, prompting him to follow the lead with a tentative look on his face. A split second later they were gone, pulled onto the dancefloor with friends to enjoy the long night ahead. Once sure they weren’t coming back, and didn't want to actually say hello in the way he so desperately wanted, Quinn closed out his tab with a sigh of defeat and exited the club, kicking himself the entire way home for not having any courage.

⭑⭒⭑

An alarm startles Quinn awake. It’s Sunday, supposedly a rare day of rest for the team, but he needs to put some time into the gym and bulk up ten pounds as fast as possible. The Canucks have been playing well enough, but the team is still below five hundred and has a tough second half of the season ahead. Quinn could stand to be more of a physical force to be reckoned with. He’s so focussed on the goals to complete during the day that it takes several moments to realize there had been no mysterious yet beautiful person at a nightclub last night. In fact, there hadn’t been a club at all — just his cold sheets and the same sadness that’s permeated Quinn’s house for years. 

The realization knocks all the air from his lungs. Quinn could swear up and down that he had seen them with his own two eyes, and tasted the whisky they’d sipped while maintaining eye contact. It was all such a vivid image that he has a hard time reconciling the knowledge it was all fake with how he woke up feeling. It was real to him. Brock would undoubtedly shake his head and rattle off a few statistics about the probability of meeting those found in one’s dreams, ever the pessimist about love and fate, but luckily he isn’t there as Quinn moves sluggishly about, trying desperately to remember everything about the person with kind eyes and the brightest smile he’s ever encountered. 

Quinn doesn’t even get both feet onto the turfed outer surface of the gym before a trainer finds him. “Hughes,” he says, syllables tense and over-punctuated in a way they appear only when ownership gets antsy about poor results. “I need you working today until it feels like you’re about to drop dead.”

“You got it,” Quinn sighs, feeling guilty for contributing to the man’s stress simply because he can’t maintain his weight. Being a franchise player at such a young age, Quinn feels pressure to make things as easy on the staff as possible.

Teammates are scattered about the levels of the facility, each working on their own weaknesses — it’s becoming more apparent to Quinn that no one in the Canucks organization understands the term rest day. Nils is hunched over on the floor doing an intricate warm up stretch routine, clearly in the same boat as him, and it makes Quinn feel a bit better. He doesn’t look up, just raises a hand in silent greeting, and the other man chuckles before pushing back the slight waves he hadn’t bothered to tame in the bathroom mirror and getting to work. 

Time flies by at a record pace, and an hour and half later Quinn has put in one of the most intense workouts of his professional career. It seems stupid to leave when so many of his teammates are still working, so he finishes a cool down and wordlessly stands behind Nils to spot. Neither of them acknowledge the favour Quinn is doing him, but it doesn’t matter. Just knowing he’s done something to make someone’s life easier is enough. Despite the intentions of making the work easier, Quinn lags behind, taking a few too many breaks to think about the person from his dream and how much he’d like to kiss them, to cherish them.

Always a fast dresser, he waits until his friend is heading down the stairs from the change room to tug the long discarded backpack over his shoulders and lowers the baseball cap onto his head. Quinn holds the door and emits quiet laughter as Nils recounts a recent failed attempt at romance. 

“You were a little spacey today, everything okay?”

It’s not so much a question as it is a prompt to spill his thoughts, and Quinn knows it. Nils Höglander may be a lot of things, including a dear friend, but subtle is not one of them. A breath filters through his nose and fills Quinn’s lungs with air that both calms and accelerates his heart rate. “It’s nothing. Just a dream I’m having a hard time shaking.”

“Was she cute?” This time it’s a leading question, one Nils has a sinking suspicion his friend will answer despite not really wanting to.

“Focus on your own love life first,” Quinn grumbles, picking at a thread on the hem of his sweater. A pause, then, “They were extremely cute.”

Nils quirks his eyebrow. Blushing slightly, Quinn continues. “I don’t know their pronouns, so I don’t want to assume anything. Plus, it’s not like they’re even real.”

“Always the gentleman, Quinner.”

The pair of men separate in the parking lot, walking to their respective vehicles with chants of genuine happiness at seeing each other in less than twenty-four hours. Nils swears up and down he won’t tell anyone else about the fascination with the dream person, but Quinn knows it’s bullshit. His friend has never been good at keeping his mouth shut, and the Canucks are like a tight knit family. Everyone will always know each other’s business.

⭒⭑⭒

They shouldn’t be there. 

The last time Quinn saw them, they had been in a dive in Vancouver, but now they’re  standing in line at a farmer’s market thirty-five miles outside Pittsburgh. Logically, Quinn understands that it was a dream, that the two of them could be transported anywhere occupying space in his brain, but this place specifically is sacred. It’s his safe space, discovered once on a solo road trip home from Michigan, has never appeared in dreams before, and Quinn wasn’t sure what to do about the intrusion. Their presence wasn’t necessarily unwelcome, just foreign. In fact Quinn was quite sure he’d like the person to be in every dreamscape if it meant he got to experience them over and over again.

A dainty red ribbon held their hair into its makeshift ponytail, but the locks threatened to spill out at any moment. They looked absolutely ethereal, denim overshirt blowing in the wind and legs encased by a pair of practical hiking sandals. Everything about them was easy and carefree — Quinn knew he had to experience the sunshine they cast at least once. A tote bag dangled from their forearm, encasing a plethora of apples that was undoubtedly too many for one person to eat alone. There was no one in line behind them, so without thinking Quinn grabbed the nearest item of produce and made sure to stand at a respectable but still close distance. Their hair smelled faintly of lemon and basil, and it took a godly amount of strength for Quinn to pull away once he caught a whiff. At the very last second the magical human with the red ribbon turned their head and caught the hockey player in the act. 

If they had been put off by Quinn’s interest in learning intimately what shampoo combination made the smell, they never mentioned it. “Aren't those the best this time of year?” they asked with a whimsical lilt. Damnit, even their voice felt like it wasn’t made for this world, but a mythical plane above it.

“Uh —” Quinn sputtered, unsure of what he was holding. A glance down proves he’d chosen to buy strawberries, the only fruit he was allergic to. “I wouldn’t know. Just stopping by on the way back home. I was out this way on business.”

“Well then, you picked the right time to visit. Late summer brings the best yield of strawberries, in my unprofessional opinion.” Their smile could have rivaled the sun at high noon, it was that bright and blinding, and Quinn was absolutely enamored. Before he could respond, however, the line lurched forward and the market attendant called the other person forward. “Enjoy them,” they said sincerely, and Quinn offered a thumbs up in response. 

With their back to the brunette and preoccupied with a conversation about the weather, Quinn knew he wouldn’t have gotten caught for leaving without the strawberries. Carefully he put them back on the table and walked in the opposite direction. At least this time he had been able to start a conversation. 

⭑⭒⭑

The hissing of air brakes jostles Quinn awake, and he opens his eyes to see the back entrance of the arena. Bus rides from hotels to rinks are incredibly short, but somehow the man managed to get a few moments of unconsciousness. Just enough to dream about the mystery person and wake with more questions that will forever go unanswered. Who are they? Why do they keep appearing in his dreams? Does repetition in dreams really mean anything? Quinn will have to remember to send a text to Jack’s girlfriend Daisy, since she knows about those sorts of things. 

Teammates shuffle off the bus in front of him, and Quinn quickly follows them, hoping not to seem too out of sorts even though his mind is swimming. Andi, one of the team’s photographers, is standing between the bus and the entrance to the rink, snapping away and making silly faces to make some other guys laugh, knowing that those sorts of candids bring more engagement for the team. 

“A-dog,” Quinn chirps, trying to seem chipper. “No pics of me today, please? After work beers on me if you say yes.”

Andi tilts her head in confusion but doesn’t probe. “You got it, boss. I want the best Guiness your expensive contract can buy.”

“Anything for you. I owe you big time. Thanks!”

Quinn quickly embraces the photographer and darts inside the building, knowing that not everyone will be as understanding as Andi. Normally he’s game to play the role of the Canucks’s social media darling, but tonight Quinn has enough to worry about without being followed around and scrutinized. 

Each professional hockey player has a different pre-game warmup routine, despite the game being a team sport. He’s always been one to do his own thing, only rarely joining in the games of two-touch, so no one blinks an eye at Quinn heading in the opposite direction of most of the guys. Nils gives him a quizzical look, mischievous glint in his eye, but before he can ask any questions Quinn turns the corner and takes the first flight of stairs he sees. 

Before he can think too much about the teasing that will inevitably come from the New Jersey contingent of the Hughes family, Quinn pulls out his phone and sends the text to Daisy. 

Not even going to bother to tell you to keep this a secret because you suck! I’ve had an unknown person appear in some dreams lately, and since you’re into all that manifestation shit I thought I’d ask if it means anything. Also, tell Jack and Luke I hope they lose tonight. 

The device slips into the pocket of his shorts and settles into a position that hopefully won’t allow it to fall out during his jog around the depths of the arena. Quinn doesn’t like to run with headphones, instead choosing to focus on his breathing. It’s an odd quirk, he knows, but relentless teasing from teammates has never stopped him before. He likes the ritual and knows it will probably continue long after he retires from playing professionally. 

Quinn rounds the corner, braces himself for a high sprint, and runs directly into someone instead of meeting a clear hallway. He isn’t the speediest on the team by far, but Quinn is fit enough that even his entry into a sprint could knock over an unsuspecting person, whom this clearly was. They fall to the ground, the momentum of an adult’s body weight and shock making it a hard one. In order to prevent more injury by landing on top of them, Quinn propels himself forward and turns mid-air in a quasi-front flip that he’s sure looked just as stupid as it felt.

“What the fuck, man?”

The voice, even in anger and resentment, is warm and welcoming. Quinn thinks the person has never been cold-hearted, not like him, and it befuddles him until he looks to see who his unsuspecting victim was. 

It’s them.

From the dreams. 

Standing right in front of him, looking for an explanation as to why they were knocked onto the ground with the ferocity of a barely-legal bodycheck. “Uh, sorry, didn’t see you there,” Quinn sputters, utterly failing to suppress his astonishment. 

A dry laugh, verging between a chuckle and a cackle, spills from their lips. “No shit. Help me up?”

Quinn wastes no time extending an arm and hauling them off the floor. He notices a lanyard sporting an official arena badge. ‘Logan Haynes (she/they), Public Relations’ is written in neat serif script, along with a picture of her wearing a bright smile. Trying to not be obvious, he gives her a once over, telling himself it’s just to make sure he isn’t hallucinating but really it’s because Quinn wants to get a better look. He isn’t as sly as he hoped because her voice once again comes into focus. 

“Do you have a habit of injuring arena staff and then checking them out, Hughes?” Logan asks, cocking their head just enough to let Quinn know the comment is mostly in jest. 

He isn’t surprised they know his name, especially if they work in sports. Still, he stammers an answer nervously. “Actually, no. This is my first time.”

“So you were checking me out?”

“I plead the fifth.”

This time a real laugh tumbles out, a hearty one with warmth of a sun-kissed afternoon and Quinn decides in that moment he will do whatever he can to hear that sound for the rest of his life. Neither of them make a move to go their separate ways, nor do they speak. Time stands still, but not in the awkward way that Quinn is accustomed to. It’s all-consuming, how sanguine the moment feels, how things almost audibly clicked into place when he saw Logan. Never one to believe in fairy-tales or the mushy feelings Jack and Daisy describe, Quinn finally gets it. 

“Uh, this is really weird, and I swear I don’t normally do this,” he begins, “But can I get your number?”

Logan smiles, almost devilishly, and Quinn is scared for a moment. “So I can send you the bill for my physical therapy? I think I might have seriously pulled a muscle.”

“Whatever you want.” The grin on Quinn’s cheeks makes them ache but he doesn’t care. He extends his open phone and they enter a sequence of digits Quinn decides to commit to memory. With nothing else to do the pair return to their original paths, and Quinn can only hope they want to see him again.

⭒⭑⭒

The game and subsequent activities pass by in a blur. Quinn was attentive, always on the puck and converting turnovers into scoring opportunities, but Logan was the only thing on his mind. The chances of her being real, of being in the same vicinity as him and getting the chance to meet is too serendipitous even for him. He gets knocked around more than usual due to his wandering mind, leading to some questioning looks from teammates and staff members. As soon as he can, Quinn is looking through the arena to find Logan, let them know he wants more than to pay for potential recovery from the injury that he caused, but he can’t find her. 

Dejected, he goes back to the bus. Quinn is a quick undresser and prefers to unwind at home or the hotel, so despite his detour he isn’t the last one on the bus. The win doesn’t matter much to him, too in his own head about Logan to care, so Quinn chooses to decline any and all invitations to celebrate with his teammates. He just wants to have a second shower and debate whether or not to text her. 

A gentle buzz comes from the inside of Quinn’s suit jacket, and he pulls out his phone with suspicious speed. The guys around him pay no attention, engrossed in their own phones or suspecting Quinn of hitting up someone on his roster like so many others were doing. He hopes it’s Logan, but then realizes that would be impossible seeing as the exchange was strictly one sided. It’s Daisy, finally answering his message from hours earlier. 

Nice to hear from you, Quinny! So glad you only reach out when you want my extra-special opinion on ur love life. Could mean nothing, or could mean you’re bound to meet the mystery person soon. Devs won 6-2, suck it. See you next week!!

Quinn thinks that if Daisy knew the events that transpired tonight she’d call it fate, especially given her text, so in order to keep his brothers from finding out and using the situation as teasing material he doesn’t respond. Instead, he opens the contacts app and scrolls until he finds the number he’s looking for. 

Still at the back of the bus, his fingers shake as Quinn types out a message.

Hi. It’s Quinn. Hughes. Ready to pay for all of your up front and continuing medical costs.

He hits send, then continues typing. 

I’m extremely sorry for earlier tonight, and just realized I never actually apologized. That wasn’t cool of me. I hope you’re okay. 

Before he can overthink it even more, Quinn keeps going. 

This is going to sound absolutely ridiculous and insane, but I swear I’ve seen you in a bunch of my dreams lately. Crazy, isn’t it?

Not wanting to sit and wait around for his potential embarrassment at his own hands, Quinn closes his eyes. However, he’s hyper aware of the rectangle in his pocket that feels more like a brick than anything. Sleep does not overcome him, just anxious thoughts, and he thinks he might explode if Logan doesn’t respond. No one will ever know except him, but the crushing weight of rejection and dismissal will sting for a long time. Quinn has never been one to put himself out in public this way, and if it blows up in his face on the first try he isn’t sure he’ll have the confidence to try again. 

One single vibration hits right below his breastbone. It takes Quinn a moment to realize it isn’t his rapidly beating heart, but instead his dreaded cell phone. A message appears on the lockscreen under the heading he’s been yearning for. When he opens it, Quinn sees four words that might just change his life forever. 

I’ve seen you too. 

⭑⭒⭑

enjoy this fic? give it a reblog :) <3

#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x oc #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks imagine #vancouver canucks fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #the summer fic exchange 2k23 #cwrites

[ctitan98official]

Anonymous: hi i really love your work and i’ve been curious as to whst you’d think the re8 ladies would react/say to their s/o who tells them they work for bsaa but quit after meeting them

Hell yeah! This is a great idea!

I’ve created the following AU as the set up to Y/N working with and eventually leaving B.S.A.A. Then, I’m just going to write head canons for how each RE8 lady reacts, kinda like a choose your own adventure story! Just to let you know, some will end in angst and some will end happily. Let’s get into it!

The AU:

You had been working as an agent for B.S.A.A for a while now and had trained directly under Chris Redfield. You felt that you had a duty to fight the emerging problems that arose from Umbrella Pharmaceuticals’ former employees illegally selling prototype bioweapons to nefarious crime rings… Your family had been killed during the Raccoon City incident, so you were all alone in a city swarming with undead. Thankfully, Jill Valentine found you and helped you escape. You actually proved to be a big help to her in fighting off the infected and Nemesis, so she introduced you to Chris. Jill and Chris told you about how they planned to form a counter-terrorist organization to try and stop crime syndicates from profiting off of other people’s misery due to cruel experiments. You were in. On your latest mission, you had been growing uneasy about the future of B.S.A.A. It had become corrupt and was rotting from the inside out. You needed to quickly find a way to escape from the havoc that the organization, that you once trusted with your own life, was now causing. When the chopper you had been flying in suddenly developed engine trouble and crashed near a tiny Romanian village, you knew this was your chance. You faked your own death and decided to start fresh in this unfamiliar place…

Alcina:

Alcina had hired you on as castle staff, but you worked outside as a landscaper with the gardeners instead of as a maid or servant.

It hadn’t taken long for her to notice your strong work ethic and quiet nature.

You and Alcina eventually started dating and fell in love. You felt so guilty about keeping your history with the B.S.A.A a secret from her, but you were scared she would leave you if you told her the truth.

Alcina was very curious about your past, but she never pried. She was respectful of your boundaries.

By the time the two of you decide to get married, you realize you have to come clean to her.

Despite your fears, Alcina was actually touched that you left and decided to spend the rest of your life with her. She did ask if you and Jill ever dated, though. (Hc you own conclusion on this, but I love Jill so I say yes XD)

Donna:

The doll maker was familiar with just about everyone in the village. Although few villagers interacted with her personally, she was widely regarded as the most approachable and fair lord.

When you had shown up one day, Donna was curious and confused as to where you came from.

You had been looking for work and some people told you about Lady Beneviento. She was in search of someone to clean and run her household.

You immediately made the trip to Beneviento Manor to meet with her.

Once you had started working for Donna, you grew fond of her and the two of you would share deep conversations.

As feelings developed into a relationship, you knew you had to be honest with Donna. She was furious that you hadn’t told her sooner. Organizations like the B.S.S.A were why she and her family had to hide away.

She eventually came around, but you had a lot of work ahead of you to gain her trust…

Miranda:

The village priestess was immediately suspicious of you when you first arrived.

You recognized her from debriefs you had gotten on a criminal organization known as The Connections. Miranda was a biologist who was hired by The Connections, but you didn’t know much more than that or to what degree her loyalties lied.

Miranda, it seemed, had stopped working with the organization. You were curious and decided to try and talk to her.

Miranda was not at all what you were expecting. She was charming and charismatic. You knew it was wrong, but you really enjoyed her company and began to fall for her.

You and Miranda completed each other, so you chose to tell her about your past after you had been seeing her for several months.

Miranda’s reaction was violent and angry, much more so than you expected. She screamed at you in a way you had never seen her do before.

She told you that if you did not leave the village she would destroy you herself.

You were heartbroken, but decided to leave. You didn’t want your death to be at the hands of your one true love.

Bela:

The eldest Dimitrescu daughter was always cautious around newcomers.

When you came to work at the castle as a landscaper, she would watch and study you.

You had no idea that she was doing this, but one day you ran into her as she was headed outside to sunbathe. You noticed the book she was carrying and commented that it was one of your favorites.

Bela was shocked. No one she had ever met was very interested in this particular author. This turned into a pleasant conversation about your mutual interests.

It didn’t take long for you two to start dating. She was very timid at first, but she opened up to you.

When you tell her about your past, Bela is surprised. She couldn’t even imagine the horrific things you had gone through, but she understood why you kept it a secret.

She said she wasn’t mad at you and kissed you to prove it.

Cassandra:

Cass was fiercely protective of her family. When there were new hires, she often checked their work to make sure they weren’t slacking or stealing.

When she first saw you, she felt uncharacteristically flustered. You were very good looking, but did not attract attention.

She admired how you kept to yourself and did your job with skill.

Cass came up with ways to have you assigned to help her with her daily tasks. It was just an excuse to be with you.

One day, you surprise her by giving her a quick kiss on the lips. You didn’t know what came over you, but Cass eagerly kissed you back. If it was anybody else who did that, they would have been killed.

Your relationship with Cass blossomed and she was begging you to tell her about your past. You finally relented and told her you were with B.S.A.A. Cass was so mad that you had not told her this sooner.

She wouldn’t talk to you for days, but she started feeling guilty for shutting you out.

Now it was up to you to repair things with Cass…

Daniela:

Dani was all over you the minute you set foot in the castle. She was smitten.

You laughed and said you liked her cheerfulness. Dani just about melted. Your voice was heavenly too.

Because Dani is such an extrovert, she has no problem telling you that she likes you. You feel a bit bolder in her presence so you tell her you like her back.

Dani squeals and tackles you in a hug.

Alcina is very watchful over all her daughters, but Dani in particular. The baby of the family can sometimes get herself into a lot of trouble.

When Dani tells Alcina that she has met someone, she demands to meet you immediately. Her daughter deserves the best.

Your meeting with Alcina goes quite well. She remembers you from when you were first hired at the castle. She comments that her daughter made a good choice by dating you. Dani is thrilled.

You know it isn’t fair to Dani for you to keep secrets, so you confide in her about your past.

Dani tears up at all of the horrible things you’ve gone through. She holds you tight and tells you she won’t tell anyone. You are safe with her.

Masterlist

#re8 #re8 village #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu x y/n #cassandra dimitrescu #re8 shitpost #y/n is stupid #re8 incorrect quotes #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #donna beneviento x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader