#still a creature as always bless his heart

[smallfire]

We see you, Opal, Your troubles are miles away We see you, Opal, And in our eyes you'll stay.

finally a proper ref for a baby boy who's getting bigger! many cheers and happiness for mister palepaw :]

#mister Looking......... he is simply Looking #still a creature as always bless his heart #palekit #palepaw #my art #threeclans #wcrp

[byunpum]

Mama's Boy| part 2

Pair: Jake x neytiri x human reader (trio couple) x sully children's

Warning: kinda sad, crybaby lo'ak, Sweet family moment.

Note: Since the last post about this oneshot was so well received, I wanted to make another part. A little more sad, but with a good ending. More about lo'ak's relationship with his human mom and Y/N's relationship with neytiri and jake. If you want there could be a part 3, but that's up to you.

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6(final)

"Payakan how I wish you knew my mother" speaks lo'ak to his friend. The boy had escaped for a while from the metkayina clan. His new home. He went to spend some time with his friend tulkun, he needed to distract himself. He had been feeling so sad the last week, his birthday was coming up and the most important person in his life was not with him. "She would love you so much…she is beautiful and kind and…she is everything" says lo'ak lying on the creature's back. As he looks up at the stars, pointing to one. " my mom also come from that star, just like my dad…but compared to my dad, she is a human" lo'ak looks at tulkun, who made a noise of curiosity. Payakan asked himself the same question everyone asked when lo'ak said his mama was a human.

"Mama says that eywa blessed her with me…that I am a miracle. That I am her miracle." Lo'ak continues to stare at the star, as his eyes begin to glaze over with homesickness. "That's why I have my hands like this…as well as my feet. And my facial features are a little different…I look like my mom" Lo'ak laughs a little, trying to control the tears that were starting to come out. Payakan asks him if he misses her, making lo'ak keep a long silence. "Of course I do… she's the only person who understands me" lo'ak turns and hugs payakan. Payakan can feel lo'ak's tears fall on his skin. It breaks his heart, feeling his friend this sad. "I wish mama was here," lo'ak says, whimpering even more.

You had to leave your family, when Jake had to leave the clan. Jake thought it best for you to stay with norm, until he could find a safe place. Where you could be with the family. The omaticaya clan accepted you because you had grown up there, but in other clans humans were not welcome. So Jake would eventually try to get them to accept you, this was temporary. But it was still painful for the whole family. Neytiri's tears were running down her cheeks, and she didn't want to let go of your hand, as she walked up to the ikran with tuk. The little tuk was crying, as she asked you to join them. "My darling…mommy will be with you soon" you comfort the little one, neytiri did not let go of your hand. "Promise me you'll be okay" says neytiri, watching you nod your head. You were doing everything you could to control yourself. You didn't want them to see you destroyed, especially since lo'ak was watching you. The other children in the family were sad, and wiping their tears. But lo'ak was serious, looking straight ahead. He was upset with you, he thought you might go and it was you who didn't want to go with them.

You walk towards jake, he kneels down and gives you a soft kiss on the lips (the reader is wearing the oxygen mask I explained in this post "click here") "I'll come for you…I promise" says jake, hugging you as tight as he can. "Please tell him how much I love him…yes?" you pull away from him a little, to look at lo'ak. Your boy doesn't even want to say goodbye to you. "I will…don't worry he will understand" jake says goodbye for the last time and gets on his ikran. Everyone leaves, lo'ak takes one last look at you, watching your figure grow smaller the further away they go. And there right there his eyes begin to fill with tears. ++ +++ It was only 1 day before his birthday, and lo'ak couldn't feel more sad. Usually you two had a habit. Normally you were always with everyone in the family, you were always with your other children. But lo'ak's birthday was special, just for the two of you. You used to walk through the jungle, make jewelry for him. It was your time together, and now he was sitting on the sand. Watching the waves crash, while trying to arrange various pieces of snail shell. He had spent the whole day, searching for the materials he needed, getting away from everyone.

Tsireya together with rotxo and ao'nung went to ask what was wrong, well tsireya wanted to know. Lo'ak had been distant from the group of friends. "Hey…you" shouts ao'nung getting lo'ak's attention as the group of friends approached him. "H-hello" speaks lo'ak glancing at them quickly, but turning his full attention back to his work. "What are you doing?" asks tsireya, kneeling down to be closer to see what lo'ak is doing. "I'm collecting material to make some bracelets with my mom, for when she gets here," says lo'ak. This gets the boys' attention, looking at each other curiously. "When she comes? Your mom is here" roxto speaks while pointing to the sully's marui.

Lo'ak looks at him, and laughs a little. "No…my other mom…my birth mom. She will be coming very soon," lo'ak says. "You have another mom? That sounds amazing" says tsireya cuirious at what lo'ak said. "Yes, my mom stayed in the jungle, so she would be safe. She is a person from the sky" says lo'ak, realizing what he said. "Ahh mmm" lo'ak tries to fix what he said. "Your mom is a demon? How is that possible?" ao'nung starts to laugh, but rotxo pushes him away. "Is that true?" asks tsireya, watching lo'ak get flustered. Taking everything from the sand, and starting to walk towards his marui. Leaving the group of confused boys with more questions. "That was very rude of you," rotxo says to ao'nung. The boy lifts his shoulders and rolls his eyes.

Lo'ak arrives at the marui, lucky for him only his parents were there. Jake was helping neytiri with the food, they both saw how lo'ak quickly entered and went to the balcony behind the marui. He was holding some things in his hands and by his face they could see that he was crying. Jake looked quickly at neytiri, she stops him. "I'll go," says Neytiri. Getting up to see what was going on, he found lo'ak sitting down. He had some shells in his hands, together with other materials. As he cried inconsolably. "Lo'ak…everything okay honey?" asks neytiri wrapping lo'ak in her arms.

"I miss mom…she's supposed to be here. Everything is fine…why isn't she here?" cries lo'ak, tears were falling non-stop on his arms. Neytiri didn't know what to tell him, she missed you too. She needed you too, everyone in the family did. "Lo'ak I know you miss her…but you must wait a little longer," Neytiri says. Lo'ak looks at her, his look was one of upset. He looked like a lost little boy. "dad said she would be here….and tomorrow is my birthday and she's not here!!!! I miss my mom!!!" lo'ak cries harder, while neytiri hugs him. Cuddling him on her chest, she decides not to say anything and just comfort her son.

After a while, neytiri manages to calm lo'ak down. The boy stays on the balcony preparing his materials. While neytiri enters the marui, seeing that jake was waiting for her. "So?" asks jake. Neytiri sits up and looks at jake. Her eyes were soaking wet. "Jake… Y/N I miss her so much" neytiri wipes her tears, jake walks over and hugs her. "I miss her too" jake comforts neytiri. "Isn't there some way she…" neytiri looks at jake. Jake knew what neytiri meant, but it was a difficult situation. It had been a few months since the altercation with the RDA, and barely everyone had made it out alive. Neteyam had been badly hurt, lo'ak and the others had almost died. And spider had to return to the Omaticaya clan. Ronal didn't want humans in the clan, so it was very difficult for jake to bring you in. "Neytiri you know I can't do anything" jake tries to explain to her, but she gets up annoyed. But before leaving the marui she looks at jake. "For some things you move heaven and earth…but to bring our partner you look for a thousand excuses. She wouldn't look for excuses to be with us" says neytiri, angry.

Jake was between a rock and a hard place. They saw him as the bad guy, but he didn't want to put you in danger. Jake knew that something bad could happen to you, this was a dangerous place. But seeing his family suffer like this broke his heart. He missed you too. You were also his partner…he needed you. You were an important pillar in the Sully family, Jake felt that little by little everything was falling apart without your presence. He felt that he was falling apart without you.

That night was very slow, everyone had gone to bed earlier than usual. And lo'ak didn't even want to eat. He stayed in bed all afternoon. He would be lying if he said he hadn't cried a few times. He fell asleep, wishing his wish would come true that eywa would listen to him. It was the only thing he asked for.

In the morning, lo'ak began to open his eyes carefully, watching as the sun's rays began to enter through the entrance of marui, but he continued to lie down. He closed his eyes more, not wanting the day to begin. It was his birthday and he already knew it was going to suck…but out of nowhere he felt someone give him a warm kiss on the cheek. Ignoring the affection, he settled in more. "mama let go of me" lo'ak moaned, thinking neytiri was waking him up. But he felt someone kiss him again and heard that distinct smile. "Are you sure about that my love?" you speak, you were on the edge of lo'ak's hammock. Lo'ak's eyes snap open, looking back. Seeing the figure of his mother there, he couldn't believe it. "Ma-mama is that you?" asks lo'k, her voice was already getting shorter as he felt the tears building up in his eyes. "Mmm yes my love…I'm here" you caress lo'ak's face. The boy turns and hugs you with all his heart. Starting to cry out loud, he was so happy. "Mama…my mama is here" lo'ak doesn't let go of you at any moment.

This wakes up the whole family, who are left in speechless shock when they see you there. In the middle of the marui, hugging lo'ak. The first to jump out of the hammock is neytiri, running towards you. To join lo'ak's hug. "Ma Y/N, for my eywa" neytiri also begins to cry from happiness. The other children also run to greet you. "Mama!!!" neteyam nuzzles into your shoulder while tuk and kiri do the same. "How are you here?" neytiri pulls away to look at you, lo'ak hasn't let go of you at any time. Sometimes he forgets that he is twice your size. "Well someone went looking for me" you speak as you see jake, this one was at the entrance of the marui watching the whole scene. Jake approaches his family. "Well…now we have to figure out how to fix this whole 'demon' being here thing" jokes Jake, stroking your cheek with his thumb. But nothing matters at this point, because everyone was excited enough to think about anything else.

After a long welcome, all the children in the family decided to go get you something for a special breakfast, leaving Jake, Neytiri and you alone for a moment. Jake and Neytiri were watching you from a corner as you settled your things. "Did something happen?" you ask laughing a little, watching your partners look at you so lovingly. Neytiri was still teary-eyed. "Come here," says Jake, shaking his hand for you to join them. You walk over taking jake's hand, you were now in the middle of the two of them. You watch as neytiri moves closer to you, taking your face in her hands. It wasn't a long kiss, but it was enough to let you know that she missed you. You hug her neck, feeling her face in your neck. "I love you so much," says Neytiri. "What about me?" says Jake, still holding your hand. You two laugh, and you pull Jake close to kiss him as well. Feeling jake pull you into his lap, giving you kisses on your cheeks. While neytiri sat right in front of you, very close. Taking your hands, caressing them. Checking if you had no wounds. This was a very intimate moment, a moment you had not experienced for a long time.

"Ney I'm fine" you laugh, while neytiri keeps checking every part of your body. Lifting your legs and arms. "Are you sure? Nothing happened?" neytiri asks and jake just watches with a cute smile on his face. "Yes…the ones I'm worried about are you guys. And more you" you look up to see jake, he still had some bruises on his face and some cuts that were still healing. "Oh no baby…I'm fine, don't worry" jake says, feeling you touching some wounds on his arm. "He's very stubborn…I've been asking ronal to take care of him for weeks" says neytiri. You look at neytiri curiously. "Ronal?" you ask. "Oh..ronal is the Tsahìk of this clan, and speaking of her. Let her know you're here," says jake. Neytiri looks at jake with surprise and punches him in the arm. "Don't tell me no one knows Y/N is here?" neytiri looks at jake, who just laughs nervously. "Jake!!!" you start to fuss, but watch as jake laughs and takes neytiri's arm so that now she was on his lap too. Snuggling both of you in his arms. "I'll worry about that later…now I want to enjoy my ladies' company" jake jokes, giving them both kisses. You guys complain, but you don't complain about enjoying the moment.

Part 3?

#avatar the way of water #avatar x y/n #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar 2022 #female y/n #human reader #human y/n #neteyam imagine #neteyam #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak sully #lo'ak x reader #kiri sully #neytiri #neytiri x human reader #neytiri x y/n #neytiri x reader #neytiri x jake #neytiri x you #jake x reader #jake x neytiri #jake x y/n #jake sully x you #jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #jake sully x y/n #jake x neytiri x reader #jake x neytiri x human reader #sully family

[shotmrmiller]

y'all know davy jones who can only step on land once every decade?

right, make that Simon, but he's something else.

He shows up hours before someone's passing. An inky nondescript shadow that blends into the background, unnoticed by most. But to those whose final specks of sand trickle through their hourglass?

They see him.

An entity condemned to a lifetime of servitude. A wretched, pitiful existence. Something that saps the life out of everything it touches. Something that can't feel the warm rays of the sun seep into his skin, can't smell petrichor in the dewy morning, when the world begins to wake.

He lives yet he doesn't. An eternity of suffering, of wishing he never begged for a way out of the braided strands of hemp that had tightened around his neck for his crimes so long ago.

His freedom forfeit the moment he pleaded for it.

With a lantern that glows an eerie green, he leads deceased souls to their final destination, even the ones who resist, who cling futilely to life, to what is no longer theirs.

Some might call him death, others Hermes. The only name he's ever cared for is his own, the one that his mother had given him back when men still sailed the seas in search of treasure, when men and women alike were hung at the gallows.

But now he is a nameless servant of the natural order that guides them all.

However, he was also given a boon. One single day, out of every ten years, the tight collar around his neck comes off, and he turns human.

A man of flesh and blood.

His lungs fill with the crisp, biting air that he never feels. Cheeks sting from the cold. Fingertips numb without gloves.

For one blessed night, the heart in his chest beats. For one blessed night, his body is warm, flush with life.

And it's been this way for as long as he can remember. He would roam the docks of back then, the briny air stinging his nose, the dulled thumping of hooves resounding in his ears. The chants of drunken men coming from inside lit taverns.

He roamed when cars began to be a form of transportation, when children, boys, began marching to war.

He had been so busy, then.

And he roams now, in the modern age, where medicine forestalls the inescapable.

But then, you. Blood rushes to his face the moment he lays eyes on you. His throat dries, turns to the paper that's used to strip paint.

He's never seen something so beautiful. So plump with vitality, life coursing through your veins. A sweet little thing, whose dulcet voice makes his knees weak.

And when you shake hands with him, palm engulfed in his much larger one, as you ask him for his name, his tongue feels as if it's coated with tar, swollen and heavy. But he garbles out his response anyway.

"Simon."

The way you breathe it back, like a sigh from a lover, could still his heart.

Everything else is a blur, his eyes only ever focused on you when he ends up in your arms, in between your spread thighs, inviting him where no creature such as he belongs.

But he's always yearned for what was never his, and so with fervor, he takes. Grabs at soft skin, and whimpers at the fact that you're not dead with his touch. Surrenders himself to you, completely; makes the little dove under him sing until the short arm on the clock gets close to 12.

This is where he departs, with a promise he swears to never break, and wrenches his heart out of his own chest, placing it in your gentle hands.

He swears to come back for it, once every ten years.

Whenever Simon turns back to whatever he's cursed with being, he keeps a keen eye on you. And then the one time he passes by, feeling like nothing but an artic breeze to you, he sees your life is close to an end.

Simon, for once in his pathetic existence, saves a human life. The car that crashes into you at a lethal speed, does nothing but total your vehicle. It is considered an absolute miracle to everyone, except you.

That should've been your demise. That should've been it.

His little dove, too smart for her own good.

The time will soon come again, and when his head rests on your chest, listening to the lulling sounds of your heart beating, will he tell you what he is.

(maybe, or not idk)

"It's a heady tonic. Holding life and death in the palm of your own hand."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x you

[linkemon]

Confession headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Part 1 | Part 3 of the confession headcanons.

This part contains: Sebek Zigvolt, Leona Kingscholar and Azul Ashengrotto.

Sebek Zigvolt

• Sebek would experience shock after shock before he even confessed his feelings. The first clash with reality would be the realization that he loves someone. What is it about you being on his mind all the time? That he would like to protect you from all the troubles surrounding you? That he feels boundless pride when you praise him for the smallest things? He can't sleep at night and gets up to do extra sets of push-ups to calm down. It would get to the point where he would get frustrated and ask Lilia for advice. Is this the ideal person to turn to in this situation? In his opinion for sure...

• How much fun Vanrouge would have at his expense! His, not so little anymore Sebek, experiences his first love affair. In addition, with a human being. What a chuckle of fate. Apparently, his student had learned something in life. Lilia would give Sebek some advice, not all of which would be entirely accurate. Well, he won't make everything easy for him! And it's funny to watch him hand you a rare Briar Valley frog and hope it wins your heart. It's a pity the knight didn't tell you that to get this frog he had to kill several magical creatures during the holidays, you would probably look at it differently...

• Sebek would have a hard time accepting the fact that he fell in love with a human. Of course, his opinion changed gradually as he got to know you, but realizing that he had done exactly what he sometimes criticized his mother for would be like a bucket of cold water. He even tried to find arguments against it but every time he saw your face in front of his eyes, he decided that he couldn't do it.

• He definitely ran for Malleus' "blessing" once he was sure he wanted to be with you. Of course, he solemnly promised that it would not interfere with his duties. The prince didn't mind. He was happy that he would have the opportunity to see his friend more often.

• Briar Valley still has some slightly old-fashioned traditions. Although Sebek is aware that couples date and break up, he is intentionally trying to marry you in the distant future, from the very beginning.

• His confession consisted of an oath. After all, he is a knight in flesh and blood. With a bouquet of wildflowers, he knelt down and announced that he was going to defend, protect and love you until his last breath. If you let him, he will try to be worthy of you, the lady of his heart. He came up with this idea while reading chivalric romances so the ride back to your dormitory on a white horse is basically a complete must-have...

Leona Kingscholar

• Leona would never be the first to admit the feeling growing in his heart. He has more important things on his mind than love. For example, a nap! And the fact that he ordered you to stay and sleep with him under threat was a completely different story.

• You decided to take matters into your own hands, because what is it supposed to be? You act like you're in a relationship. Your friends keep asking if you're a couple and you never know what to say, because they won't ask Kingscholar out of fear and it always falls on you. Grim sincerely hopes you are together. In his eyes, a rich prince means an endless supply of tuna. Even if he calls him a furball every chance he gets.

• One day, in a botanical garden, surrounded by beautiful flowers, you asked this one important question. Who wouldn't love me? That's what the sarcastic Leona said in response to your confession. Immediately afterwards, he squinted his eyes and happily went back to his fake nap.

• Outraged that he didn't even take you seriously, you tried to get up but failed. He hugged you tightly and pulled you to his chest. Only when you were so close to him did you realize how fast his heart was beating. You didn't know if all beasts were like that but the ghost of a smile on his lips confirmed your belief that they probably weren't. You didn't say anything for a moment, just listening to the fast rhythm. Just as you were about to say something, he opened his eyes and told you that you two could go out if you cared so much. Then he turned to his other side, saying that herbivores probably had nothing better to think about.

• Only on the verge of your sleep, wrapped in warmth, amid the scent of sweet flowers, did you hear a quiet voice in your ear "I love you", spoken in a deep and confident voice.

• You didn't want him to feel unpunished for such treatment, so for the next week you made it your goal to tell everyone you could that you were in a relationship. At first you thought it wouldn't bother him much, but when others started repeating it, he felt embarrassed, which he didn't hesitate to tell you when he really had had enough. At first it seemed to you that he wouldn't be much moved, but when others started repeating it, he felt embarrassed, which he didn't hesitate to tell you when he really had enough.

Azul Ashengrotto

• There is no way he would try to confess his love before he has tried every means available to him to see if you feel the same way. The idea of revealing himself to someone to such an extent terribly terrifies him. It doesn't matter that you saw him at his lowest point during the overblot, it doesn't change anything about it.

• He wouldn't send the twins to do anything related to this "project" as he called it in his head. He doesn't even talk about it because he knows they would be making fun of him for weeks to come, especially Floyd. The truth is that Jade realized it incredibly quickly, but he's waiting for the right opportunity to take advantage of it...

• Azul would have dozens of plans for every eventuality and somehow everything would still fall apart. The first and most important rule he adopted was to stay away from Mostro Lounge. He took you to his home sea under the pretext of sightseeing. If something went wrong, no one from the academy would see it and he would have time to collect himself. At this first point his perfect plan ended.

• First, something broke in your transportation to the museum he wanted to take you to. Then it turned out that the crab serving you didn't want to let you in, mumbling something about being late. Without losing his nerve, Azul proposed his plan B, which was a restaurant. Of course, previously checked by him. But what good is it, since the owner broke the tentacle and closed it that same morning, leaving only a note on the door that she was very sorry. On top of it all, his favorite alley in the underwater park was destroyed by a herd of wild seahorses. That sealed his defeat. He meant well but it didn't work out. Tired, he lowered his hat and rubbed his glasses, pretending that he had not spilled a tear of ink at all.

• You had to come to his aid because you couldn't watch him struggle with his thoughts. You placed a kiss on his cheek, telling him that you had fun because you spent a lot of time with him and that you were happy because he rarely gave up work for someone. This gave him confidence and with a sigh, he led you to a place he wasn't particularly fond of but one he knew would be quiet and peaceful. It was on one of the coral terraces that he hid in from kids who tormented him when he was little. When he confessed his feelings to you and you replied that you reciprocated them, he felt that at least now he would have happy memories of this place.

• Azul doesn't need to know that Jade exposed him some time ago and he sold you the information that his boss reciprocated your feelings for quite a favour...

#twisted wonderland x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #confessions #headcanons #black chariot #confession #twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #azul ashengrotto #leona kingscholar

[love-belle]

always, evermore, even after and still !!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which they get married and it's the happiest day for everyone.

or

for when you finally find your happily ever after. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - hope u like this!!! i love you so much, thank you for reading <3

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vogue charles leclerc and y/n y/l/n tie the knot in a grand yet intimate ceremony held at their villa in monte carlo.

the bride wore a valentino couture gown complete with a sprawling train and platform heels while the groom sported a classic black tuxedo. y/n’s childhood best friend, lily muni he, served as the maid of honour, whereas her close friends, carmen mundt, kika gomes and heidi berger were bridesmaids. on the groom's side, lorenzo leclerc, his brother was the best man along while his younger brother, arthur and his friend circle, which included lando norris, pierre gasly, carlos sainz and alex albon were the groomsmen. the guest list included many notable presences such as sebastian vettel, toto wolff, taylor swift, zendaya, timothée chalamet, harry styles and many more.

the couple’s first dance was to the song "love letter from the sea to the shore" performed by delaney bailey followed by "it's nice to have a friend" by taylor swift and "sweet creature" by harry styles.

tap the link in our bio to get a look inside their wedding held at their stunning villa in monaco.

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

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yourusername added to their instagram stories

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liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 796,528 others

landonorris my two best friends got married and i'm about to make it everybody's problem. congratulations, you horny motherfuckers. don't remember much of last night but as i'm sitting in a cafe in berlin, i know it ruled. here's to a lifetime of happiness, love and blessings and may this marriage not end in a divorce (y/n, lily still has that taxi driver on speed dial, say the word and we'll help you run away)

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

8,638 comments

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username god i need a life like this ://

charles_leclerc at least i had a gf and now i have a wife (thanks for the photos but i'm not paying you)

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-> charles_leclerc DELETE THAT NUMBER RIGHT NOW

username charles has been married for one (singular) day and he's already fighting for his life 💀💀💀💀💀

username i love this friend group so much ❤️

username THEY BOTH ATE OMG

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, landonorris, carmenmmundt and 892,728 others

lilymhe in my head, we're still those teen girls who planned out their wedding days with so much enthusiasm and with so much detail that it would've put these planners and binders to shame. it's kinda hard to believe that my best friend is now married but honestly, y/n/n, i couldn't be more happy for you. you're my best friend and i love you so much. thank you for being just a call away, always. here's to charles (barf) and y/n (❤️)

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

7,926 comments

username SHUT UP IM CRYING

username platonic soulmates ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ

username she's so pretty what the fuck

username Y/N ATE

carmenmmundt the prettiest bride 💕

*liked by lilymhe*

username two pretty best friends 🔥🔥🔥

username y/n looks so pretty what thebfuck omg im gonna scream

username my favs ://

username nah cus lily and y/n literally have my heart like they're my fav pair of best friends

charles_leclerc i remember when you threatened me

-> lilymhe good. remember it for the rest of your life.

-> charles_leclerc y/n she's doing that thing again yourusername

-> yourusername lily

-> lilymhe sorry

-> username NAH NOT CHARLES SNITCHING ON LILY

username she slayed so hard

username the barf and the ❤️ spoke VOLUMES

username im gonna cry they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i wish i had a best friend like lily ://

alex_albon i never get captions like this

-> lilymhe this isn't about you

-> yourusername yeah alex this isn't about you

username y/n's childhood best friend being her maid of honour 😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username in love with these two

username AHHHSHDHDJDHBXSJ

yourusername i love you SO fucking much

-> lilymhe i love you so much more

yourusername i'll love you always thank you for everything ❤️‍🩹

-> lilymhe you're my best friend, always here for you and your loser ass boyfriend

-> charles_leclerc I'M HER HUSBAND

-> lilymhe okay and??? she can get another one

-> username PLEASE OH MY GOD

username i adore their friendship tf

username don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc

danielricciardo i had one (1) job and as you can see, i took it very seriously. mr and mrs. leclerc-y/l/n, everybody 💒🍧💐

tagged yourusername charles_leclerc

7,682 comments

username LECLERC-Y/L/NS

username THEY'RE SO 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username i love them sm what the fuck

username my parents ❤️🫶🏼

username LOVING THE WEDDING CONTENT WE'RE BRING FED RN

username she looks so pretty omg ☹️☹️☹️

maxverstappen1 why are you acting like your ass isn't in berlin with us?

-> danielricciardo THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SECRET YOU SNITCH

username WHAT THEBFUCJ HAPPENED LAST NIGJT 💀💀💀💀💀 why are they in berlin

-> username oh the night was wildin 🔥🔥🔥

username daniel.jpg but on main

username love them sm

username SO HAPPY FOR THEM AHSHDHSJDJBS

username living for this content

landonorris berlin kinda cool

*liked by danielricciardo*

username WHY are they in berlin

-> username no it's HOW are they in berlin

username no bc i feel like such a proud mom like i watched go from "hiii/hiiiiiii" to "hehehehe i do/shut up charles, i do"

-> username that's what i call GROWTH

username her dresses ate omg

username i know daniel's not getting paid for shit

username im so ://

charles_leclerc lovely photos mate

-> danielricciardo so will you pay me?

-> charles_leclerc no

username AHHHSHDHDHDHXHXJDJDF

username gonna sob some more

username honestly crying tears rn

yourusername we love you daniel 🫶🏼 (get your ass back to monaco i am NOT kidding)

-> danielricciardo love you guys (omg we're on our way stop you scare me sometimes)

username IM NOT NORMAL ABT THIS

username fav couple

username thank u to daniel for these

-> username doing god's word fr

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, charles_leclerc and 2,826,418 others

yourusername words cannot express how much i love you. every single time i think that this is it, i cannot possibly love you more than i do, i'm surprised by myself because i do. i really do. i fall in love with you more and more every single day and i'm gonna spend the rest of my life showing you that. i loved you when you first told me that you really liked my smile and i loved you when you told me you hoped i lived nearer to you and then asked me to move in. i loved you when you took the time to get to know me and i loved you when you said that i was it for you and i will love you when our hair is turning gray and we're gonna look back and smile and fall in love even more. they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes i swear. i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it. here's to my forever love, my everything, my world. i love you ❤️

tagged charles_leclerc

17,527 comments

username GOODNIGHT

username WHAT THR FUCK

username im gonna sob this is so

username they're married 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username people say soulmates we say y/n and charles

username sliding down the door fr this is INSANE

charlotte2304 all my love to you both 💓

*liked by yourusername*

username HE'S SO HUSBAND MATERIAL LIKE

username they're MY parents

username the caption took my heart out and squeezed it

username hahahahaha!!!!! i am NOT okay!!!!!!! what the fuck is up with that caption

sebastianvettel 💐💕

*liked by yourusername*

username he's so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username "i truly cannot wait to look back on our life together, cardboard boxes full of our love, but until then, let's live it" WHEN WILL IT BE ME

username "they're gonna have to kick us out of those nursing homes" me and who lol (i am screaming crying shaking)

username no bc i too deserve someone like this ://

username it's giving timeless by taylor swift

*liked by yourusername*

username they're so taylor swift coded

username GOD ME WHEN

username gonna take a toaster bath brb 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

username don't test me istg

carla.brocker my heart 😭🩷

*liked by yourusername*

arthur_leclerc sister-in-law 💒🩷

*liked by yourusername*

username IM GONNA SCREAM WHAT THE FUXK

username MY parents 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username he's so husband coded ❤️‍🩹

username microwaving a spoon brb

charles_leclerc i love you so much it's unbelievable just how much

-> yourusername i adore you and every part of you

charles_leclerc my forever love ❤️ cannot wait to grow old with you

-> yourusername forever has never sounded so good ❤️

username gonna be thinking abt this for the rest of my life just so u know

username they're setting the standards so high i can't do it anymore what the fuck

username im so 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, pierregasly, landonorris and 2,826,318 others

charles_leclerc i honestly don't know what to say. you're my biggest dream, my wife and now that i'm saying it, it sounds so surreal. i have waiting been an entire lifetime to say these words and the fact that it's you in this lifetime (and all the others), is just amazing. i wish i had known you sooner, so that i wouldn't have to spend all those years looking for love in places where it couldn't possibly be. my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad. i hope that one day, when we're old and aged and have seen a thousand sunsets, you ask me if i love you and my answer will forevermore will be always, evermore, even after and still.

tagged yourusername

16,628 comments

username I CANNOT DO THIS RN

username everyone stfu im gonna cry

username english lang is so weird bc u say true love and it translates to y/n and charles

username nah the bar is too high atp im giving up

username SHE'S SO PRETTY MA GAWD

username the fact that they're now the leclerc-y/l/ns 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

lewishamilton so happy for you both 💐💒

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username "my love for you reached my past and before you came into my life, i missed you so bad" why am i crying.

username they're the blueprint for all love stories from now on btw

username I LOBE THEM SO MUVH WHAT GHE FUCK THEY'RE MU PARENTS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 😭 😭 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

usernames no bc the way all the photos are of random moments and this leads me to believe that charles just whips out his camera whenever y/n is just There and now im crying again

-> username he's just like us fr

-> username i too would play paparazzi for y/n is given the chance he's not the only one ://

carla.brocker coolest sister in law (best friend) 🫶🏼

-> yourusername carla i love you 😭

username still in disbelief they r married tbh

username i feel like we watched them grow up im so emotional 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

username she's so pretty i could sob

username why did u think that it was okay for u to post this.

username i am not okay

lorenzotl 🤍💐

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username SHE'S SO PRETTY

username charles won at life fr

*liked by charles_leclerc*

username caption called me single and lonely in 26836282727 languages 💔💔💔💔💔

username bro woke up and chose to destroy shakespeare with that caption 💀💀💀

landonorris loved the wedding 👍 i woke up in berlin

-> charles_leclerc the wedding was in monaco???

-> maxverstappen1 i know

-> danielricciardo we obviously had some ideas and now i have an ugly tattoo and there's a ring pop on my finger

-> landonorris max has one too

-> charles_leclerc YOU MARRIED MAX

-> danielricciardo NO

-> maxverstappen1 NO

-> yourusername this is hilarious

username i need to see more pictures from the wedding I NEED TO

username i love my wife (i am delusional)

yourusername i have already loved you for a thousand years ❤️

-> charles_leclerc here's to a thousand more ❤️

yourusername i love you so much like you're my person and i just love you so fucking much :/

-> charles_leclerc i love you so much more mon chéri

username they're so 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

username IM SO AHJHSJSHDHDJSKDJD

username im gonna cry brb

#f1 x reader #f1 x female reader #f1 imagines #social media au #fake instagram imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc au #charles leclerc blurb

[genderlessghoul]

Okay there's too much elemental transition Dew angst on this app. And I mean that in the most affectionate way possible, I swear to god y'all who write it always manage to make my heart ache in the worst/best possible ways. But I am a simple, soft creature so I present to you : Dew who actually accepts and recieves well his elemental transition.

Dew who's skeptical of the idea at first because water is all he's ever known. He turns the idea in his head over and over again until he realizes how tempting the offer feels to him. Yes, water is all he's ever known but he doesn't really feel attached to it like he should. The more he thinks it over, the more it feels like a blessing. A new start.

Dew who talks about it beforehand to the rest of the pack. They're worried, rightfully so, but they listen to his explanation. And they agree with him in the end, he should do it if he feels like the right thing for him.

Dew who goes throught with the transformation, and it hurts like a bitch and he's sick for a good two weeks after. But his pack is there to take care of him. He doesn't like depending on others but he lets them, secretly loving how everyone offers to carry him everywhere, how it feels to have people wash his hair and bring him food.

Dew who connects with fire as soon as he's better. The element truly calls to him, pulls him in, welcomes him. It's warm and intense and it's home. Finally home. He learns his fire ghoul duty in no time under Ifrit's teaching.

Dew who doesn't resent Rain at first for being the new water ghoul, quite the opposite. Aether's the one who was supposed to be in charge of putting a cloak over him, charming and comforting as ever. But the second Dew saw that water ghoul, folded in on himself in the middle of that summoning circle, he took that cloak out of Aether's hand faster than he could think about it. Walked up to the shaking Rain, wrapped him up tight and told him it would all be okay, that he's safe. Dew takes him under his wing, teaches him all about being a water ghoul, as well as he can without being one himself anymore.

Something in Rain calls to him, he knows it's the water. It's not mad at him for pulling it out of his body, it knows it was the best decision for him. But it still misses him. And Rain shows him all the love that water ever had for Dew, a love that was never meant to be in him but rather with him. (And also sometimes in him, if you catch my drift.)

Dew who learns to love his scars, to accept them as a part of his story and his journey, rather than a heavy anchor to his past. He doesn't shy away when Phantom sees them for the first time. Doesn't try to hide or to make up stories. They're a part of him. And they're beautiful.

Aight that's my self service for the night, good byyyyye

#the band ghost #ghost bc #nameless ghoul #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop ghost #meerkat writes #ghost ficlet

[thewritetofreespeech]

Romantic relationship headcanons for Dracula, Hector, Issac, Alucard, and Trevor?

Castlevania Boys Romantic Headcanons

Dracula

Once his defenses are down, he’s a very romantic man.

Despite his eons of life, he still believes in love, and true love, and expressing that to those that matter.

Even if it’s few & far between on being able to find it.

Since his time is endless, and theirs possibly short, he wants to spend as much of it as he can with them.

Going on walks, picnics, or just being together in comfortable silence while they read or relax by the fire.

He is also a very passionate man. So make sure your evenings are free for him.

Hector

Aww bless him. He tries.

Which is probably his biggest flaw. He tries too hard.

Hector is a classic over thinker, in the sense that he thinks on ever scenario and plans it out. Thinking this will create a perfect plan with now flaws, except he forgets that people are flawed.

Inevitably this usually ends in failure, but still a sweet gesture that is appreciated.

His gifts are usually very thought out, but also miss the mark. Like one time you said you liked green, and Hector remember this and gave you an emerald ring he pulled off one of his night creature carcasses.

At least your pets will live forward though.

Alucard

Although jaded by life, Alucard is actually still an incredibly sweet and charming man.

Though he tries to keep his heart safe and locked away, he does still keep it on his sleeve. And once he’s warmed up to you, will gladly give it.

Words often escape him, as he’s worried about saying the wrong thing. So his romantic gestures are usually in, well, gestures.

Finding a book he thinks you will like. Coming across some manner of poetry and leaving it on your nightstand. Collecting wildflowers when he goes out to hunt or fish for supper.

Trevor

More swagger than romance, but he’s getting there.

Trevor always says the right things. Good on compliments. Great on telling you how beautiful you are.

Terrible at remembering dates or plans though. So don’t expect him to remember anniversaries, or show up to dinners on time if you have a special one planned without reminding him 18 times.

It’s not that he doesn’t care. It’s just that his brain doesn’t work that way. More in the moment than a future plans kind of person.

He longs to be close to you, always. Not necessarily in a sexual way (though that is a lot) but just beside you, next to you, curled up by your side.

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #trevor belmont x reader #trevor belmont #castlevania alucard x reader #alucard x reader #castlevania alucard #alucard #castlevania hector x reader #hector x reader #castlevania hector #hector #castlevania dracula x reader #dracula x reader #castlevania dracula #dracula

[koolades-world]

Hello, I'm looking for some angst.

I would like to order an extra harsh reality of

"The brothers will pick their sister over Mc if given a chance"

And some side dish of "The undertables having to fight for Mc"

Thanksiiee!!

hi!! Sorry I took so long to get to this but I was so looking forward to writing this when I got it! slight mentions at nsfw but nothing is described or really directly talked about. also spoilers for lesson 16 and also also long!! much longer than I anticipated

everything I write turns into Satan pieces somehow lol

Took inspo from Harry Potter, specifically Tom Riddle’s diary in the Chamber of Secrets (don't @ me used to be a huge hp fan)

update: part two is out and can be found here :)

the dance of the haunted (part one)

It all started with a simple trip to the second hand bookstore. Satan always invited Mc, so they were together. He needed a hand carrying back his purchases sometimes and they always went someone to eat afterwards, Satan’s treat as he could never imagine asking Mc to pay.

They bookstore they visited today was a usual for them. It was close enough to walk, but far enough to avoid running into his brothers. Satan knew Mc really enjoyed old cookbooks and worn fantasy books. They also often searched for children’s books to read to local demon children as part of a school club. While he was initially concerned with them coming into contact with a cursed book, he grew more comfortable after seeing their magical ability and that they always carried an enchanted talisman that Solomon gifted them for that purpose.

Mc was over in the nature section, flipping through a book about creatures in the 3rd ring of hell. Satan found himself in the tomes section again. He, as usual, found himself rooting through the very back trying to uncover hidden gems. He was about to pick up a book he thought Mc might like to flip through it, when he froze. Just a sliver of this book was in his vision, but he already felt the magic oozing from it. It's a wonder he didn't sense it sooner. He put the other book in a hurry and pulled out the book from the back.

It was unlabeled, with a faded green cover and a golden ribbon attached to the spine. It marked a page close to the beginning. The magic radiating from it didn't seem bad in any way. It actually seemed quite positive. He was able to place it quickly after he felt the ribbon sticking out the bottom of the book.

This was most certainly a book infused with an angelic blessing at the very least, but how in the world had this ended up in a second hand book store in the Devildom, of all places. He flipped it over, looking for anything to go off of, but found nothing but a cursive golden letter L etched on the bottom right corner. He was a little afraid to open it, giving that it was in the hands of an angel at some point. After thinking it over, if anything happened to him, Mc would help him as soon as they noticed something amiss. Thanks to the pact, it would be almost instantly.

With the thought of Mc, he slowly opened the book. On the first page and on the inside of the front cover was handwriting that seemed oddly familiar. He struggled to read the words on the page at first due to the sense of familiarity. He suddenly got deja vu, as if he had held this book before. He closed his eyes for a moment to stop the world from spinning. When he reopened them, he felt like crying, and yet, he still wasn't sure why. Once he finally read what was written, he understood why.

On the inside cover, it read "Property of Lilith Morningstar" and near the bottom in large writing was a messy scrawl he recognized as Mammon's handwriting. It said "mammon waz here" with a little drawing of himself sticking his tongue out. A heart in a different color of ink enclosed the message and drawing. On the first page was a note seemingly from Lucifer. Satan would recognize his handwriting anywhere. It was a heartfelt message from Lucifer to Lilith, saying that he hoped the gift reached her well, and that he missed and loved her.

He closed the book for a second and suddenly felt faint. He sat on the floor, holding his head in his hands. He thought about what he had just read for a moment. The book that he had somehow found, maybe by chance or fate, belonged to his brother's late sister. It was a gift from Lucifer to Lilith while he was away. He realized that's probably why he felt his emotions raging. The Lucifer in him recognized the book, since he had seemingly picked it out himself to give to his sister. How had this ended up in a second hand bookstore? He theorized maybe it had been made in the Devildom and Lucifer had purchased it during one of his trips. But, angel Lucifer would have never done that. He was disgusted by the mere thought of even having to go down at the time, so the thought of him browsing shops was out of the question. Deciding to come back to that thought later, he decided to quickly flip through it, just to see what it was.

As he reopened the book, new waves of magic hit him. He didn't recognize them, but they felt as familiar as his brothers. He guessed their magic was also somehow within this book. But since it was all angelic magic, everything having to do with this book happened before the fall, before he even existed. Much to his dismay, everything beyond the first page was blank. He closed and opened it a few times, but nothing happened. He guessed it might be locked by magic in some way. The thought of trying to magically pry it open scared him again. He was a demon through and through, and since this was blessed by angels, he had no clue what might happen to him if he tried. He was certain whoever blessed this book did not accommodate for whatever he was, but he thought it to be unwise to test the limits.

"Satan. What are you doing on the floor?" Mc walked up to him, holding a few books in their arms.

"Oh, just looking at book on the bottom shelf. I got tired of crouching." He quickly placed the green book down on top of a stack of his other books.

"I get that. Just wanted to let you know I'm ready to be done when you are. Don't rush for me." They turned to walk away, but Satan stopped them.

"I'm done too. I was finishing up." He moved to get up. Mc turned back around to look at him.

"I made great timing then! Here, I'll carry some of these for you." They grabbed the first few books off his stack. He felt his stomach lurch when they touched the green book. He couldn't help but feel nervous with them handling the book, although he wasn't sure why. He didn't want to say anything about it to them, and again, he didn't know why. For now, maybe it was best he kept this to himself anyways. Mc’s expression didn't change and they continued to pile on the books until the green one was in the middle. There was nothing special about that book to them.

"Thank you." Satan made himself say. He picked up the remaining books and they proceeded to the check out together. Today, an older demon worked the register. She was familiar with the pair and had a soft spot for Mc.

"Is that everything for today?" She asked them as she counted the books. Between the two of them, they had thirteen books. Satan handed the demon the needed amount of grim, and waved them on their way. Satan insisted on carrying the bag of books home, since this time there wasn’t too many.

"Let's stop at a café on our way home. I'm dying for something warm to drink right now." Mc grabbed Satan's hand and pulled him in the direction they wanted to go in. He smiled and allowed himself to be dragged off. While they were enjoying coffee together, he was able to temporally forget about the book he had discovered. All of his thoughts were about Mc for the time being.

When they arrived home together, Mc loudly announced that they were there. Mammon came running to greet them. "Mc! I got somethin' for ya! Ya gotta come with me right now!" He grabbed both of the hands and began to pull them away.

"Thank you for the coffee and books, Satan. Tell me about what you bought at dinner tonight." They looked back at him before looking at Mammon again.

"I will. I'll drop off your books in your room. I had a great time." He lifted a hand at them, as a goodbye.

"Mc!" Mammon began to whine.

"Yes, yes. Let's go now." Mammon took off with Mc in tow, leaving Satan stewing in his thoughts again. He went back to his room with all of the books. The other books he had picked out were no longer interesting compared to the Lilith book. However, he didn't want to mess with it while his brothers were awake. The last thing he wanted was them finding out. While he felt bad keeping it from them, something in him was telling him not to show it to them yet. He had promised Mc he would tell them about the books he picked out. The only one he wanted to read was the one about cats. He could easily talk about it to Mc anyways, without having to worry about the Lilith book crossing his mind.

He read until it was time for dinner. Today, it was Asmo’s turn to cook. He was actually a pretty good cook, probably the best in the house. It always turned out well and was plated gorgeous on top of that. He came to the dinner table with the book he hand been reading, still reading. He took his seat across from Mc, not looking up just yet.

“Hey, is that one of the new books?” Satan looked over his book and saw Mc peering at him.

“Yes, actually. It’s a cat book! Cats are the best.” He happily pointed to the picture of a cat on the front. As they ate, the conversation began to drift away from books, and onto something that Satan thought was irrelevant. He tried to go back to reading, but found himself reading the same lines over and over again. His thoughts had reverted to the little green book sitting in a pile of books on his bed. He has buried it, just in case someone happened to walk in.

As Mc mediated yet another argument between Levi and Mammon, he couldn’t find it in himself to silently seethe and glare at his brothers as he usually did. He blankly stared at his book, picking at his food. He was stuck wondering why the book didn’t say anything. He planned what he would do once he got back to his room. He knew he had a book of protective spells somewhere in the house that he might use to protect himself before attempting to interact with the book more.

“Satan. Is everything alright?” Lucifer placed a hand on his shoulder, catching him off guard. The table was basically empty now, much to his surprise. It was only Beel, Belphie and himself still seated. Beel was still eating and Belphie was passed out next to him.

“Nothing is wrong.” Satan snapped back after a moment.

“Alright. Please don’t forget do the dishes.” Lucifer retraced his hand, and with one final, unreadable look at Satan, left the room. He was unsure about how to feel about Lucifer noticing something was amiss. He snapped his book shut. He wasn’t really reading it in the first place. He put the book down on the kitchen counter and began absentmindedly doing the dishes. He was lost in though about the book currently buried underneath about twenty other books on his bed.

He finished in record time. He grabbed his cat book, figuring Beel could wash his own dish once he was done. He retreated to his room. He was released to find everything just as he left it. He dug up the green book from his pile, placing all the other books on the floor for the time being. He sat at his desk, running his hands over the cover. Under his little desk lamp, it seemed to sparkle in a way that he hasn’t previously noticed. Once he opened it, he was greeted with what he has seen earlier that day. But, to his surprise, there was more beyond that.

Most of the pages in the front of the book curled from usage. At the top of each page, was a note of the date. Below this, was a diary entry of sorts. Sometimes, it was just a to-do list, or a recipe. Others, he found Lilith’s accounts of her day to day life. He decided to start at the beginning, reading the first ever entry. He hoped to gain a little context of what exactly this journal was and how it worked.

Lilith had written on the first page after the note from Lucifer about how he has sent her this journal while on a trip to the Devildom, stating it was made by a human according to the tag on the outside of the journal. He enchanted it himself to only allow her to see the contents of this journal.

Satan paused his reading for a moment. If it has been enchanted to only allow Lilith to read the journal, how was he able to read it just now? He wasn’t close to her. They never knew each other. As he flipped to the next page to hopefully skim it for context of any kind, the words in front of him began to fade. The ink retracted into the page, from the last letter she had written, to the first. He wasn’t sure what he could do to prevent this, so he just quickly read what he could. The next page was something about how Belphie had wanted to take a look at it and something about Beel. Once he got there, the words has begun to erase themselves. He watched helplessly as everything disappeared. Soon, he was just stuck with the plain book he had discovered that afternoon, and the cover no longer shimmered.

He sighed, flipping through it again. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He was about to check out the back cover again when he heard his door being pushed open.

“Satan! Thought I would find you here.” Mc greeted him.

“It’s my room. What did you expect?” He shut the book in a hurry.

“Well, I can just as often find you in the library.” They approached him, touching his face. They outlined his jaw and smoothed his cheeks with their thumbs. He reached for their wrists, touching them with an imploring look.

“What’s the matter?” He petted their hair. They sat down in his lap and placed their head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but worry that the journal was right in their view now, but he hugged them close nonetheless.

“I just feel lonely.” They sighed and buried their face in his neck.

“Really? After all that time you spent with Mammon?” He laughed a little at their predicament.

“Don’t laugh! It’s not the same as when I’m with you.” They pouted and puffed their cheeks out. He chuckled a little more at the cute face they made at him.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. What can I do for you, my beloved?” He could get lost in their eyes.

“Give me affection! Just kisses will do.” They pointed to their forehead. Satan smiled at them, amused.

“As you wish.” He began to pepper their face in kisses. As Mc grew more needy, the more he satisfied them. One thing led to another, as they ended up in Satan’s bed. They stayed together for the rest of the night, the journal long forgotten.

Early the next morning, after their night of passion, Satan awoke abruptly. He looked around. He was in his own room, but his clothes were scattered around the room. A shirt was hanging by a thread off a tall pile of books. Mc was asleep next to him, their arms wrapped around him. His lamp light was still on. He reached over as far as he could to reach the off switch. Before he could hit it, he saw the journal. He glanced back at Mc. He didn’t want to wake them, but he felt the urge to open it. He reached out to touch it, and as soon as he did, he noticed it began to shimmer like it had before. He was amazed. He quickly flipped as best as he could to a random page with one hand. He could see lots of writing. He shut it again, taking his hands off of it. It remained shimmery.

He decided not to flip through it now, since he wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind to at the moment. Instead, he noted the time; 4:03 am. Once he woke up, he would check it again to get a rough idea of how long it would stay open for since earlier, he wasn’t sure how long it had been open for. He finally shut the lamp off and let the book flutter closed. He took his mind off the book, and laid back down. He tucked an arm around Mc as best he could without waking them, and drifted back to sleep.

He awoke for the second time that day. Everything was essentially the same as it was earlier except for the time and the noise outside his door. Mc was still asleep next to him, griping him tightly. It was 8:24 am now, and he could hear Lucifer pacing around past his door in the hall. He didn't make any noise. The last thing he wanted was to see his ugly mug first thing in the morning. Because of this, he decided not to leave him room just yet, but he also didn't want to open the journal either. He would, however, check if it was still "open" or readable. He flickered on his little desk lamp again, and was greeted with the shimmery cover. He didn't want to touch it, because he was almost certain he was able to set it off that morning. Once he was able to think clearer, he would revisit that.

Instead, he grabbed the first book he could get his hands on and began to read. He wasn't sure how long he was there, just reading, but eventually he felt Mc begin to stir. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Satan greeted the bleary eyed person snuggled into his side.

“Good morning love. How long was I asleep?” They yawned, making no move to sit up. Neither of them were dressed at the moment anyways.

“A decent amount. Longer than I did anyways.” He shrugged, placing the book facedown on his desk, over the journal.

“Thanks for not waking me. You wouldn’t guess how many times Mammon or Asmo have woken me up way too early. Granted, it’s usually on accident. Asmo with his skincare and Mammon with… I don’t actually know.” Mc rolled on to their side to look at Satan better, throwing one of their arms over his torso. He felt himself growing shy under their sleepy gaze. He knew he wasn't the only one graced with that privilege, but the way they looked at him made him feel so special. He would give them every star in the sky if they asked.

“That makes me all the more grateful that they don’t dare enter my room. Makes it quite the sanctuary, don’t you think?” Satan chuckled.

“Mmm, yes.” They yawned again.

“What do you want to eat for breakfast, sweetheart? Or is it too soon to think about that?” He asked.

“Give me a few more minutes and then I’ll find an answer for you.” Mc closed their eyes again, potentially going back to sleep. He used that time to reflect. His thoughts grew a little grim as he let them wander. That journal kept finding it's way into his mind. How had he been able to find that? What were the chances of that happening? Maybe it would have made a little more sense if one of his brothers had found the book instead, since part of them seemed to linger between the lines. He was a different story, though. The magic within must had been much more powerful than he anticipated.

Even as he turned his head to the side to look at the book again, he saw the pages glimmer in the light that didn't exist. Something seemed... wrong. He hadn't noticed it before, maybe due to the excitement of simply finding it. The circumstances of which he found it in too was bizarre. As a powerful demon, he should have noticed the angelic energy as soon as he entered the book store. He dwelled on this idea. Perhaps last night's activities had had an affect on it. He coughed a little, covering up his embarrassment from the invisible audience. As he thought more, it really made no sense that he just happened to find it. Had it been planted there for him specifically, or was it the journal itself? Just what did this book know? He did consider himself exceptional, but not nearly as much as his brothers. Their story was far more interesting than his own. He was just the consequence of their actions. Whatever the case with this book, he felt the urge to get to the bottom of it, despite the creeping dread in his gut.

He spent the next few days of his reading time picking though every page of the journal. He was able to learn so much about his brothers' days in the Celestial Realm, far more than they had ever bothered to tell him. Perhaps they thought speaking about it might bother him. Whatever the case, he found it strange to refer to them as angels. Lilith wrote lots about the twins and Asmo. She wrote less about the older brothers but it was clear they were just as important to her. He had know Asmo was the Jewel of the Heavens, but the way Lilith described him made him sound like the most amazing thing the world had ever seen. The more and more he read, the more he saw the similarities between himself and her. He too considered Asmo a trusted confidant, and a close friend of his. He too found himself sneaking off with Belphie for mischievous reasons, or spending time with Beel for his quiet, comforting presence. He began to realize how difficult losing her might have been for them. In the past, he knew it was a sore subject, especially among the youngest, but now he could really feel their pain as Lilith wrote about their daily misadventures. What they missed. Would they exchange him for her if given the chance? He shook this thought off, not liking the implications it might have.

Her innocence was painted clearly for him on each page, yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He checked the book again and again for traces of demonic magic but found nothing. The strangest part was that he couldn't even find his own. There was traces of various angels, most of which he didn't recognize, likely from the far gone past. The journal continued to puzzle him.

As time passed, the entries grew more and more chaotic. From her new lover, to the growing tensions between Lucifer and their father. They grew shorter and less carefree. Even her handwriting differed. She seemed to understand the gravity of what she had done. He knew this is when the Celestial War was about to begin. Her last entry was about her lover, again about how enchanting she found them, and how one day she hoped to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter what. He paused for a moment, realizing this entry was written likely days, or even hours before he was born. After that entry, the pages were blank. There were some pages with stray pen marks, but that's all he was able to uncover. He knew the ending to this story. The silence told it all. He sat for a while, reflecting again about everything he had seen. As he was thinking, words began to appear on the page in front of him, in the same handwriting and ink color as he had seen in the entire journal. It was Lilith's. Satan paused. He could tell the journal held magical properties, but this was not something he expected to happen.

"Hello? Anyone there?" The words appeared suddenly. He continued staring at the page until more words appeared. "You can say something you know. Ink will do." Satan began to look around for a writing utensil at these words. Once he found one, he began to pen a response.

"Hello. Are you Lilith?" He wrote down underneath the previous words. He got his own response quickly.

"Yes, I am! How'd you know that?" Satan paused again, about to write more, but was cut off as Lilith began to write more. "Haha! Just kidding. This is my journal. My name is in it. It would be weird if this wasn't me. Who are you, by the way? I don't think I've ever had a visitor." Right away, Satan thought Lilith reminded him of Asmo. He was probably like this when he was an angel.

He stopped before bringing his pen down to the page again. He was unsure on how to introduce himself. During his visit to the past, he went by Sully, which was the stupidest name in his opinion. But, he also didn't want to lie to her. Would it be wrong to tell her his story, and what happened after the war? "My name is Satan. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too! That's a pretty cool name. Interesting for sure." She wrote.

"I don't want to scare you away, but I want to make this clear as to not deceive you." He wanted to tell her the truth. He felt like she deserved to know. After all, he had always felt like she was supposed to be in his place. She even wrote in green.

"Oh, tell away then. I'm all ears. I won't judge, unless you're about to confess some sort of sin to me!" She wrote, most likely jokingly. That made him a little nervous at first, but he continued with the original plan anyways. Maybe this was his way of healing, somehow. He felt better after getting everything out. He told her almost everything. He omitted the part where Belphie murdered Mc. He didn't want to be the one to tell her, anyways. It felt wrong to tell her that her death had driven him to such an extreme. She stayed mostly silent, chiming in with a few questions and stray blots of ink on the pages near his writing, as if she was resting her pen on the page.

"I hope that wasn't too much to take in at once. Much has happened." Satan was still a nervous. He really hoped she wouldn't hate him. He was just the messenger. After all, without her, he wouldn't even exist.

"I won't lie, it was overwhelming at first. But, I'm happy to hear my brothers are doing well without me. It's comforting to know that they have you and Mc now." Lilith drew a little heart next to her message.

"Glad to hear. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but I agreed to meet Mc for an outing shortly, so I will see myself out." He wasn't lying. He had agreed to meet Mc, but it wasn't for another two hour.

"Alright. Have fun! Talk to you later." With that, everything she had said sunk into the page and left no trace behind.

"Goodbye." His words also disappeared. Just like that, their entire conversation was gone. He shut the book. He was glad she didn't object. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to leave early. He felt a little bad leaving her to stew in the information dump, if she actually existed beyond the book being open. Everything about the book confused him. Looking back at it, maybe he made a rash decision. Maybe he shouldn't have info dumped to her like that.

He decided to forget that for now to enjoy his time with Mc. They had an event to attend, and he had to get ready anyways. Later that night, he came back to the journal in order to study it. He opted not to talk to Lilith just yet. The sick feeling in his stomach had returned. Something was wrong with this journal, very wrong. It made no sense, even after chatting to her. She seemed sweet enough, but that wasn't enough to dispel that gross, nauseating feeling. He just couldn't place his finger on what. He felt as if he was losing his mind checking over and over again, for something, anything. But, he found absolutely nothing.

Eventually he got to the point where he was determining if he should burn it or not. He regretted even talking to her in the first place. He wasn't sure why, but he grew uneasy even having Mc in the same house as the journal. Somehow, it felt as if he was talking to someone else, as in not the Lilith who made the original entries. He placed the journal back on his desk, underneath his latest book finds, leaving to find Mc. He eventually found them by the door, putting their shoes on.

"Hey Satan. Good to see you!" They looked up at him.

"Hi, Mc. Where are you going?" He was relieved they were leaving the house.

"Purgatory Hall. I was invited over to play some games. Sol's idea." They began searching for their jacket. Satan noticed it hidden behind Lucifer's big overcoat. He grabbed it, and helped them put it on, thinking hard. "Aww thank you. You didn't have to do that." They beamed at him.

"I wanted to, it's no trouble." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Hey, do you think it's possible that I could come with you. I don't even have to play these games if that's an issue, I just want to be with you." He would feel even better if he was able to be with them, and get away from that journal for a while.

"Oh, of course! I'm sure they would love to have you. Besides, I've basically always got one of you brothers attached to me, they might find it weird if I showed up without one." Mc laughed. "I thought you were planning to read tonight, since I've been taking up almost all of your nights for the past week. Did something happen?" They seemed concerned, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you. Really, I can put off reading again. All time spent with you is precious. It's hard to be away from you, you should know. You're simply enchanting." He took their hand and spun them into his arms.

"Alright, if you say so! We should get going if we want to be on time. I can let them know if you need a little time to get ready?" Mc giggled, buying his excuse. They might have seen though him, but was glad they chose not to say anything.

"I just need my shoes and coat as well. I wouldn't want to hold you up, anyways." He only let Mc go in favor of getting ready. "You know, I'm honestly surprised you aren't already bringing Mammon or Asmo." He told them.

"Me too, actually. Asmo was busy, and Mammon was too distracted with his car repairs to pay attention to what I was saying earlier. I was almost held back by Belphie too. But, I'm here now and I get to spend this time with you." They stood beside him as he tied his shoes and shrugged on his jacket. As the two of them made their way to Purgatory Hall, Mc held his hand so tightly and gazed at him so tenderly, he was almost convinced they were the only thing in the world.

When they arrived, they had plenty of fun. Solomon had arranged a collection of games to play as a group that were randomly decided by drawing slips of paper. To nobody's surprise, Solomon and Mc ended up winning most of them because they were human games. Satan forgot all about the journal. That is, until, he received a phone call in the middle of one of their games. Mc was draped over him with their arms around his neck, also curious about who might be calling them at a time like this. It was Lucifer.

"I told them we were heading out. What could he need?" Mc reached for the phone but Satan stopped them.

"If the call is for me, it's probably to yell at me or something. I don't want you to be on the receiving end of that." Satan rolled his eyes, and brought the phone to his ear, planning to brush off anything he said. He was really only answering because Simeon was in the room, who would answer it for him.

"Come home. Now. You have explaining to do." Lucifer growled through the phone. At first, Satan wasn't worried. He got ominous calls from his older brother like this all the time.

"What is it?" He sighed. Mc laughed a little, causing him to smile. The others began to chat among themselves while he was on the phone. This was normal.

"You know exactly what this is about. On your desk in your room. Underneath three books. Your keys on the left. The pen you used on the right." Satan froze. The smile left his face. Lucifer always sounded serious, but this was one of the few times he sounded like he was about to rip his throat out. He had found the journal. Mc didn't hear what he said, somehow, but noticed his change in demeanor.

"What's the matter, 'Tan?" Mc brushed some hair off his forehead.

"Nothing, my love. Don't worry about it. It's the usual nonsense." He moved the phone away from his ear for the moment, and then back once he was done speaking.

"Let me speak to Mc. I want them home too. Now." The tone Lucifer used to dangerous. Satan knew that was unwise. He didn't know what his plan was, but he didn't trust him at all.

"No. I will come home, but I'm not bringing Mc. I will not needlessly involve them. This will stay between us." Satan began to grow angry. He couldn't help it. Typical Lucifer, complicating matters.

"If you don't come right now, I'll drag you both back personally." Satan knew he wasn't kidding. None of his threats were empty.

"Fine. Have it your way. We'll be home shortly." Satan hung up before Lucifer could respond. By now, the entire room was staring at him. He looked totally different than he had before. He was tense, his rage obvious.

"Are we leaving? What's the matter? Did something happen?" Mc looked at him, concerned.

"I'm heading home to take care of something, but you're staying here. I promise it's nothing serious." He lied through his teeth. He didn't know why Lucifer wanted Mc there, but he knew it couldn't be good. The journal was bad news, and they were involved in no way.

"Are you sure? Lucifer said he wanted me there, right? You know how good I am at sorting out issues in your family. I really don't mind, if that's the issues." They squeezed him a little. They were so caring. Too caring.

"I'm sure. I won't act out or anything. He's probably mad about chores or something. I wonder if Mammon sold his underwear while it was my turn to do laundry again." Satan smiled. They cracked a small smile back.

"Alright. Keep me updated. I'll be waiting for you." Mc pressed a kiss to his forehead before climbing off of him.

"Simeon, before I go, can I have a quick word?" Simeon, who was comforting Luke, turned at the sound of his name.

"Of course." Simeon stood up, gesturing for Mc to take his seat next to Solomon. Luke was seated on the floor between them. Mc looked worried, but moved regardless. Solomon looked around the room, studying everyone's expressions. Simeon walked with Satan to the entry way. "What's the matter?" He asked, holding out Satan's coat for him.

"I want you to place a blessing on this building. Do not let any demon in under any circumstance. Including me. I don't care what they say. I don't have time to explain, but something is very wrong at the House of Lamentation and I don't want a single one of my brothers near Mc." He shoved his shoes on as he spoke. He hastily put on his jacket and turned to look at Simeon one last time.

"I don't know what could be wrong, but I trust you. Mc is safe in mine and Solomon's hands." Simeon let his hands fall to his sides, opening the door for Satan. He watched as he took off running in the opposite direction of the House of Lamentation. He could only stare and wait for him to be a good distance away, before shutting the door. He went back to the living room to find Mc hugging Luke, Solomon with a hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Solomon." Simeon said the sorcerer's name. He stood up and walked over to him. "Satan didn't tell me what the matter was, but I need you to do a quick check of the house to make sure nobody but us is in here. Satan requested I bless the house to keep his brothers out." The expression on both of their faces was grim.

"Of course." Solomon shut his eyes and waved his hand. Once he reopened them, Simeon knew he had completed the check. "Nobody but the four of us are here."

"Thank you. Normally I would ask Luke to help me perform the blessing, but I would prefer to leave him alone for now. Will you accompany me?" Solomon nodded. Simeon led him away, leaving the room together, leaving Mc and Luke along together on the sofa in the once full room.

"What's wrong, Mc?" Luke asked them. For once, they had no clue how to respond to the boy.

"I'm not sure. Simeon might know more, but for now, we just have to wait. In the meantime, do you wanna play some more of the games?" Mc hoped to take his mind of the ordeal.

"I don't really feel like it, sorry." He sighed, worried. He had always had concerns about Mc living with demons and them seemed to be coming to fruition.

"That's alright. Do you want to watching something maybe? Simeon made cookies that are cooling in the kitchen, right? We can get those." Mc tried again to get him in better spirits.

"Let's wait for Simeon and Solomon to get back. They might be worried if they return and we're gone." Luke admitted.

"Good point. I'll turn on a movie for now. What do you want to watch?" Mc got up, leaving Luke in their spot.

"Anything." He usually had more to say. Mc could tell Luke was very worried.

"Alright." Mc went through the various dvds Solomon had stored away near the tv. After finding one they liked, they put it on. The two of them watched this movie together since there was nothing better to do. Eventually, Simeon and Solomon returned with said cookies. Rather than sit on the free couch, they all sat together. They could all tell Luke was worried. The desserts remained untouched.

"I have a surprise that I think you'll like, Luke." Solomon spoke up. Luke picked up his head. "I was told that Mc could stay the night, so we can have a big sleepover together. Does that sound good?" Luke perked up.

"Oh, good. That sounds great! I don't want to send Mc back to those icky demons. Where are we sleeping?" Luke sounded excited, making the rest of the room smile.

“We can stay in my room.” Solomon watched as the little angel jumped out of the cuddle pile and ran to gather pillows and blankets.

“It’s nice to see him happy again. I honestly think he might be more concerned than me.” Mc sighed, reaching for a cookie.

“If we knew what was wrong, we would tell you. I just know Satan asked me to place a blessing on the house.” Simeon explains.

"I figured. It's fine. We just need to hope for the best..." Mc stares at the cookie, thinking about Satan and what he might be doing right now. They just hoped he was safe.

ty for putting up with me and not putting out anything for so long... and sorry for the cliffhanger lol. really wanted this out but a. not sure how much longer it will take and b. not sure what I want the ending to be yet! lol

part two soon hopefully sorry to anon for taking so long!!!!

#obey me #obey me! #obey me satan #obey me x reader #obey me asmo #obey me levi #obey me belphie #obey me mammon #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me belphegor #obey me angst #obey me solomon #obey me mc #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me simeon #obey me luke #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me! shall we date #obey me! shall we date? #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus

[reythenerdypisces]

things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 3: The Titan's Curse

The truth was I was kind of disappointed to hear that she liked her new school so much. It was the first time she'd gone to school in New York. I'd been hoping to see her more often.

I tried to concentrate on little things, like the crepe-paper streamers and the punch bowl - anything but that fact that Annabeth was taller than me, and my hands were sweaty and probably gross, and I kept stepping on her toes.

"The General?" I asked. Then I realised I'd said it in a French accent. "I mean... who's the General?" I want this part to be in the show

"Sweet! Let's go! [to CHB]" said Nico. this breaks my heart. he was so excited in this book

Tyson thought Annabeth was just about the coolest thing since peanut butter (and he seriously loved peanut butter).

"How would you kidnap an immortal goddess? Is that even possible?" "Well, yeah. I mean, it happened to Persephone." "But she was like, the goddess of flowers." Grover looked offended. "Springtime." you tell him grover

"That's some serious danger you're facing." Connor Stoll said. (I liked how he said you and not we.) I'm just imagining the rest of the campers not bothering to go on quests cause it's always the same few demigods and they don't care, they're just chilling safe at CHB while Percy and Annabeth do their things

The creature looked at me sadly. "Moooo!" But I couldn't understand his thoughts. I only speak horse. Percy Jackson speaks two languages: English and Horse

With a shiver, I realised that five hundred or a thousand years from now, Bianca di Angelo would look exactly the same as she did today. She might be having a conversation like this with some other half blood long after I was dead but Bianca would still look twelve years old. ouch

"It wants to kill us!" Thalia said. "Of course." Grover said. "It's wild!" "So how is that a blessing?" Bianca asked.

"That's us," he said. "Those five nuts right there." "Which one is me?" I asked. "The little deformed one," Zoe suggested.

When she smiled at me, just for a moment she looked a little like Annabeth. I know everyone talks about this part but I can't help but bring it up again, they are so cute

"Woah, first of all, I never said anything about love. And second, what's up with tragic!" little does he know. also, Percy is so incredibly insightful in this book but he's also so jealous of Annabeth and Luke and so upset about the idea of her joining the hunters yet still can't figure out that he likes her

"Seven hundred feet tall," I said. "Built in the 1930s." "Five million cubic acres of water," Thalia said. Grover sighed. "Largest construction project in the United States." Zoe stared at us. "How do you know all that?" "Annabeth," I said. "She liked architecture." I cannot explain how much this little bit means to me.

The girl I'd just tried to slice in half yelped and dropped her Kleenex. "Oh my god." she shouted. "Do you always kill people when they blow their nose?" Rachel's here!!! I love her

Five minutes later, Zoe had me outfitted in a ragged flannel shirt and jeans three sizes too big, bright red sneakers, and a floppy rainbow hat. someone draw this and tag me. what an outfit

Suddenly it occurred to me: this had happened to her before. She had been cornered on Half-Blood Hill. She'd willingly given her life for her friends. But this time, she couldn't save us. How could I let that happen to her? he is the most empathetic, wholesome guy, I love Percy

"Can't this go any faster?" Thalia demanded. Zoe glared at her. "I cannot control traffic." You both sound like my mother." I said. "Shut up!" they said in unison. I kind of wish we got more Thalia and Zoe interactions... they would've made such a great enemies to lovers dynamic, if Zoe didn't die

"Get away from my daughter!" Dr Chase called down, and his machine gun burst to life, peppering the ground with bullet holes and startling the whole group of monsters into scattering. "Dad?" yelled Annabeth in disbelief.

Grover went off with his satyr friends to spread the word about our strange encounter with the magic of Pan. Within an hour, the satyrs were all running around agitated, asking where the nearest espresso bar was.

"No," I said. "I choose the prophecy. It will be about me." "Why are you saying that?" she cried. "You want to be responsible for the whole world?" It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger." I said. might I remind you this boy is 13/14 and has the whole world on his shoulders (both literally at some point and figuratively)

I feel like these are just getting longer and longer but again, I will be back for part 4!

#percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #pjo disney+ #the titans curse #rick riordan #perseus jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #rachel dare #thalia grace #bianca di angelo #nico di angelo

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA#10 Their Humanity

Imagine dis…

It is always Talia, Damian, and Ra hiding the fact that either they have another child of Batman that died due to the fight to the death between siblings. It is always either Danny faking or is at the edge of death to escape the League. But what if in this universe it is quite the opposite?

…

It came as a surprise to Talia that she had just given birth to twins, with her Father on her side exclaiming that they were blessed to have the Al Ghul have twin heirs.

The midwife first presented the first newborn as well as the one to come out first. Tan skin as well emerald green eyes and a mop of spiky hair on top of his head are what they saw naming him Damian as the firstborn as well the future Demon Head. Crying and screaming his heart out, Ra deemed him worthy enough of being the heir.

But the moment the two laid their eyes on the second child made them feel that their heart had just beaten.

The second one was not crying just sleeping quietly and peacefully, light skin and blue eyes are what had greeted them, and with bated breath, they look intently at the second born.

With wide eyes, Talia named the child Danyal in the quietest and softest voice she could muster. Her Father, on the other hand, his eyes stayed on his 2nd grandson as something foreign and unknown inside him stirred, something warm that he could not describe the sensation. Carefully reaching out his hand to take a good look at the boy’s face, Talia would have never thought in her life but her maternal instincts are now screaming at her to protect Danyal from her own father if he ever dares to harm the boy which confuses her, as in her entire life there had been not a single moment of such frivolous emotions arise, not even when she seduced Batman for the sake of creating the ultimate heir yet here she was, still weak after literal moments after giving birth add to the fact she felt indifference to her firstborn so what made Danyal special to the point she was ready to fight her Father for Danyal’s safety?

Ra didn’t comment when he saw the rigid form of Talia and continued reaching out to the newborn. Now take note that he had taken multiple bathes using the pits, also it is a well-known fact that babies tend to know things or even read the mood. Babies are also known as the most innocent creatures on this planet aside for toddlers and kids, so when Ra reached towards Danyal he had expected the child to be scared and start crying but his grandson who was merely minutes born did the impossible.

Danyal had reached out, gave the tinniest grip a newborn could do, and giggled as if he already knew that whoever that man is, he just knew that he felt safe just by being around him.

Ra widened his eyes at the action and merely hummed in approval or dismissal Talia never knew.

But that day whether they knew or not the world the of cruelest assassins who wouldn’t bat an eye whether they kill children and newborns for the sake of their cause had just their world had just been shifted towards this newborn.

…

During the early years of both children, the League had changed to something of the past Ra would rather die or even commit seppuku than see the changes in the League.

Ra and Talia both interacted with Danyal, using the milk that was produced from her very own body to nourish Danyal while Damián was in the care of his wet nurses.

Ra would look question at the tiny infant, does this child possess some sort of meta ability that made him likable?

Unlikely, the number of tests that the child had to face to ensure his health reveals no gene or mutation of any sort.

Talia would express a foreign expression to her and those around her every time she interacted with Danyal, every time he smiles, giggled, cooed, and laughs she felt lighter and happy. On the other hand, every time Danyal cries or even has even the lightest traces of being upset she would immediately gets rid of the source.

Ra would very often come to the twin’s chambers to observe Danyal, and every time he would take a brief visit Danyal would immediately stir awake and try to reach out to his grandfather.

Each time Ra would leave with unclear thoughts and mind as he still has that current yet foreign feeling in his chest.

Each time that Ra would leave the chambers Danyal would always steal a small piece of the cold man’s heart.

Until one day those walls that were built using the strongest materials that surround their Icey cold hearts, slowly crumble and melt at the mention of Danyal

New toys, new robes that were made with the finest silks, and gifts that were made for a king were all presented and gifted to Danyal who was barely a month old and barely able to hold his own head on his own.

…

Growing up Damian had noticed the amount of personal attention his younger brother has received through his grandfather and mother. For someone who had done the League’s utilization of basic forms at a young age under the tillage from his personal trainers. Danyal on the other hand was a bit of a slow learner, he was not born to be an assassin a thought that passed his mind.

Damian witnessed the acknowledgment and praise that came from both his grandfather and mother when Danyal had perfected a certain form that he had already perfected a month prior.

At first, Damian is bewildered at the amount of attention and personal gifts that were given to his younger brother.

Is he not the heir of the League? Is he not the first-born grandson of the Demon Head?

At first, he held anger and resentment towards Danyal in his mind he is a competition for the privilege of being trained personally by the two greatest warriors in the League.

Even though he had vocally and physically informed Danyal his displeasure towards him didn’t deter Danyal from him from training with him, fighting alongside him, looking at the stars with him, and creating a bond with him. To the point that Danyal had dragged Damian to a private training session with the attendance of the two people whom Damian had respected.

As he progressed alongside his younger brother, he finally learned why he was cherished and treasured.

Danyal is fresh cool water in the desert sands and scorching sun that surrounds the Nanda Parbat.

That day he swore to protect Danyal from the harms of the world to the point that the majority of his kills are either child rapes, or child abusers in any shape or form as he alongside his grandfather and mother that together they will make a world a better place for Danyal.

…

All but one person held annoyance and offense towards the unofficial prince of the League, Deathstroke, a few months before turns to be a defect to the League, he had originally planned to plant bombs around the base to be blown sky high but all of his plans went to the drain when Danyal Al Ghul had confronted him ad disabled the bombs he spent months to place in places that no one would ever think off.

Deathstroke admit it, he thought that Danyal Al Ghul is nothing but a sheltered spoilt prince but clearly the skills he had shown to Deathstroke to the point he Deathstroke was very impressed at the raw skill and talent this boy held at the mere age of 7 made him almost feel guilty, almost.

Deathstroke is a grown man with 10 years of experience in his belt, he easily overpowered the child after dealing with countless injuries that he had obtained when fighting the child.

Grabbing Danyal by the neck, he ponders what would he do to the child when Ra Al Ghul alongside his daughter and grandson with plenty of assassins behind his back looks enraged at the mere scene before him.

Deathstroke pondered at his predicament he could escape but he needed a distraction, looking down below he saw the glowing green waters of the Lazarus pits.

Letting go of the unconscious child he watched gleefully under his mask as he watched the unaltered horror etched on each Al Ghul's faces as they watch Danyal fall towards the pits.

…

It will be fine Ra assured himself, with his little side project of Jason Todd, he raised the teen from the dead using the pits, he had also used the pits to ensure his longevity.

But when Danyal hadn’t reached out to the edges of the pool he began to think the unimaginable.

Damian his first grandson at the very edges of the pits looking for any signs of his brother, Talia barking orders to the rest of the assassins to look for the prince.

Minutes turned into hours as Danyal hadn’t reached the surface.

That day something inside of all of them died as anger, resentment, grief, and depression at the mere fact that Danyal Al Ghul is no longer with them.

…

Danny had always known that he wasn’t the son of Jack and Maddie Fenton, he knew that the Lazarus pits had somehow transported him to an alternate dimension, those nightmares that his “sister” and “parents” used to tell him that was only a figment of imagination were his memories, using the skills he had learned he searched for any whispers of the league or even his father but so far his search led him to an unknown dimension.

Clinging to only the memories he had to ground him, to remember himself that they are waiting for him.

Pretending to have amnesia and acting to be a scared little boy who was abandoned in the forest was easier as of now he needed to make a new identity. On the papers, he was named Daniel Fenton, a shy and quiet young boy who was found in the middle of the forest suffering from multiple injuries, hypothermia, and amnesia.

The only reason he had picked the Fenton’s as his fosters is due to the fact that they have an advanced and unrestricted vault of weapons as well their studies are well aligned at the Lazarus pits.

Pretending to be a meek boy who was bullied by a larger child, who was best friends with two of the natural outcasts in the population as well sabotaging his own grades in order to remain unseen or normal.

Dying at the age of 10 was not even part of the plan, he had read that children who are about to enter their teen years are doing something childish or even stupid. Nor becoming alive once again or even becoming a vigilante like his father, even getting attached to his supposed friends as well as sister to the point he would rather die for the second time than see them hurt.

When he became the crowned prince of the Infinite Realms, he had ordered all of the ghosts and rogues to stay in the Realms as it was getting dangerous for all ghosts as the GIW and the Fenton’s have not only doubled their efforts as well became more brutal in terms of handling ghosts.

At the age of 13 there we see Danny running toward the Infinite Realms all bloody and injured. Jack and Maddie had found out and they were in the middle of dissecting him when his two best friends and the woman whom he is proud to call his sister all to burst into a hidden GIW location which is where he is being held and practically all of them prepared to lay their lives for him. All three of them not only rescued him but also destroyed all research and weapons they possibly have about the Infinite Realms.

As he was trying to create a portal a natural portal randomly opened in front of him, leaving no choice he immediately jumped.

…

It had been 6 years since Danyal had died, during this time the previous 10-year-old Damian Al Ghul was introduced and stayed with his father who was Batman in Gotham.

Ra Al Ghul had been revived secretly and started to rebuild the League. Talia had finally captured Slade and finally slit the man’s throat after hours of continuous torture.

Ra along with Talia was looking somberly at the pits as this was the final resting place of Danyal, as it has been years since the pits had taken and had not returned the body of Danyal.

Suddenly the pits started to glow brighter and brighter unable to stand the brightness both Ra and Talia covered their eyes. The moment they take a moment to discern what made the pits reacts like that, a loud splash was heard around the cave.

Talia just needed a second to see who dared to use the pits to suddenly see herself swimming to retrieve what had just disturbed the pits.

The moment she reached the shores she didn’t dare to wish for, there she is, cradling a 13-year-old bloodied and injured version of Danyal.

Disbelief is written on the faces of the Al Ghul’s, Ra didn’t want to be taken advantage of and immediately requested a DNA test that came back positive.

Relief and happiness flowed like air to the two Al Ghuls.

Thus, the journey of healing and family.

…

It has been months since Damian had started to act differently Bruce thought.

His 13-year-old son started to go out more in the guise of spending time with his siblings, but when the said siblings denied ever spending time with Damian made him worry. According to the parenting books he had found online, teens especially Damian’s age tend to be more rebellious to find the place where they belong.

This prompted them to follow him when he had requested to have a week out of town with a “sibling”, Batman along with Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin is following Damian in his civilian clothing to an expensive hotel and resort surrounded by the desert sun.

As they were going around inside the said resort and hotel, they saw Ra and Talia Al Ghul which made them immediately on the defensive as they start to wonder over the comms what could the hotel or this resort has that warranted the attention of the two deadly assassins.

As they hide in the shadows, they saw a child collide with Ra, they were almost afraid of what Ra would have done but what Ra have done made them drop their respective jaws.

Ra just smiled, SMILED, the assassin that even Batman has trouble defeating as well as holding the title of the cruelest assassin in the world, smiled, and hugged the child.

Looking closely, they swore they saw a mini Bruce in that teen. Blue eyes with a mop of black hair that rests on top of the teen's head.

Another clone? Was an immediate conclusion up until they saw Talia approach the pair with a soft smile, as the child ran up to Talia screaming mother.

Damian who entered alongside Talia, didn’t seem to bother by the supposed clone, the Batfam knew his deep hatred towards clones, so when Damian just looked at the teen with soft eyes made them fear the worse.

Damian was being blackmailed by the League or else their new brother might just suffer the consequence of refusing.

Batman was distraught about another child that has hidden from him and was right now being held against his will, Red Hood exclaimed that he was sure he saw the Demons spawn with blue eyes not green.

Now they fight about who has the rightful custody of Danyal Al Ghul Wayne.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so don’t forget to tag me though.

#dp #dc #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp #batman #Danny Phantom #damian al ghul

[avocado-writing]

notes: full version of this. contains mild brat taming, spanking, holy imagery. reader is genderless. special love to @dhampling who read over the start for me, and M for being my beta 💕

pairing: astarion x LG!Paladin!Reader

rating: E

words: 3k

Astarion looks at you, and he wonders. 

He wonders, back when he was a spawn stalking through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, if his sheer proximity to you might have burnt the alabaster skin from his bleached, undead bones. That is the force of your radiance. 

Every part of you is a perfect fragment of your god. Sunshine-brilliant and drenched equally in his glory and wrath, there could be no doubt that you are a child of Pelor. You carry his emblem on your armour and his love in your heart. Your skin has a dreamy pearlescent lustre, soft and hearty, and you seem to glow from the innate light within you.

It makes Astarion sick.

You are so nauseatingly good. When he met you on the road near the crash site it was your first instinct to help. Not to second guess his nature, not to wheedle any masked truth from him, but to draw your sword and offer protection to a stranger.

He got the jump on you, of course - but he recalls how easily you laid him out on his back in return. When he was staring up at you, forcibly unarmed, and the sun framed your face like your god had in that moment blessed you with a halo just to spite him.

And still you had reached out a hand to him in friendship.

You hadn’t withdrawn when the truth of his condition came to light. He figured someone of your vocation would try to run him through without a second thought. But instead of offering him the point of your blade, you offered him your neck. 

“If my blood will strengthen you then I will gladly share it,” had been your words. He wanted to prove you wrong for your kindness, to drain you dry just to spite you - and your taste had been ambrosia. Sweetly blossoming on his tongue he had almost lost himself in the taste of you, until once again your firm hands pushed him away.

No. He would not get to end you that night.

Every day the two of you bickered. You, the stalwart immovable paladin; him, the nefarious rogue always up to something. The two of you were total opposites. It seemed almost cruel that fate had forced you into being travelling companions. And yet…

And yet.

Whenever you finished swapping barbs (well, the threw barbs at you, and you remained unbothered in the face of them, deflecting his venom with the pavise of your cool-headedness) he would see you smile as you turned away. He’d be well aware there was one on his own face, too.

Stupid. Weak. 

How he managed to get you into bed after that party at the Grove, he’ll never know. It was a gamble and the dice were not in his favour. But he gave it a go anyway, drolly mentioning the quality of the wine and the overwhelmingly oppressive atmosphere. When he suggested meeting you later that night he braced himself to be staked.

But that hadn't happened.

You’d been surprised, definitely. Eyebrows raised and smile sudden, but you’d said yes. You’d even giggled at the idea, dizzy like a schoolchild. 

And, admittedly, he felt an erotic thrill as he sauntered to meet you in that clearing. One he thought himself incapable of experiencing any longer. He was never excited about sex any more. He’d tried to convince himself it was due to his stygian soul, that a creature like him lying with someone as pure as you would be a defilement, would be sullying your holiness - something to bring you down a peg or two. Make you not so out of everyone’s reach.

Out of his reach.

Perhaps, though, in the corner of his mind he tried to wall up, he just relished the idea of being close to you.

And close to you he was. Your grip on his cock was warm and sweet as he slid inside you. You bared your neck and he found the bite marks that were becoming a permanent fixture on your skin, the softest place on you - every other inch was hard muscle. A reminder of that shield you carried, the righteous sword you swung. He made love to you in the most passionate way he knew possible.

He hadn’t realised he’d wanted to hear the sound his name made from your lips as you came around him. It burned into his soul.

He expected you to fall asleep quickly, after, but no. You’d actually held him. As if he weren’t some creature of the abyss but…

Well, your equal.

You hand had caressed his back in a way he’d never known before, soft and sweet, reading his scars like braille but not asking for their origin. Instead you’d opened up yourself a little and let him hear some of the chapters of your life.

He wasn’t surprised when you told him you swore your oath as a teenager. You grew up in the church, devoted from youth, and he could picture you: pocked-faced and wide-smiled, knowing exactly how you wanted to live the rest of your life. 

So sure-footed. He was jealous. He was smitten.

“Do you ever regret it?” he’d asked, burying himself into the warmth of your body. You’d shaken your head and looked him dead in the eyes, so utterly sincere that it moved him.

“I rarely regret anything. Not my oath, not the nautiloid… not you,” you’d whispered before kissing him. 

And, true to your word, you never did. 

Nowadays? You make him feel safe. Protected. Watched over both in and out of battle - whenever anyone tries to take advantage of his vampirism, when they act like he is a thing rather than a person, you are the first one to his side to defend him. 

It forces him reevaluate how he feels about himself; question if he is, in fact, a being worthy of love. 

He hates it. 

He is looking at his reflection in the mirror of you. Yes. You do see something worthy in him, something worthwhile and deserving of your nurture. It makes him so damned scared. Because if that’s true, it means maybe there’s more to him than the vicious little cretin he portrays himself as. Maybe he is worthy of it all. Of kindness. Of love. 

Of you. 

His soul begins to itch. He needs to do something to realign his universe, put things back into the way they’re meant to be. He needs to be a rogue, damn it!

Your adventure has called you back out to the Emerald Grove. With Isobel safe after the attack at the Last Light Inn you were comfortable leaving the Shadowlands for a while under the knowledge that before you fought Kethetic things were unlikely to get better, but also unlikely to immediately get worse. Astarion erects his tent on soft grass, relieved to not be surrounded by magical darkness, and waits for you to be distracted. 

It does not take long. You are swept up in good-natured conversation with Wyll, discussing some sort of swordfighting technique he neither knows nor cares about. When he is certain that no eyes are on him he simply melts into the gloom of evening. 

Where he belongs. Pathetic creature.  

As far as he can tell, nobody notices him. The shadows cling to him like a second skin, like his body was made to have them mould around him, and he heads into the Grove. It is easy enough. The druids are all busy, guards down ever since the tieflings left, he just needs to not make too much noise and they are easy to pilfer from. Nothing too big or obvious. Nothing they really need. A healing tincture here, a handful of rare herbs there, a couple of silver pieces left loose on a stone desk. But the more he takes, the less it thrills him. 

It occurs to him that none of this has the same impact that it used to. Once, the idea of robbing good people blind filled him with glee. Now, he can only picture your face every time his hand flits out to snatch something up. How disappointed you’d be with him. He is trying to fill a hole in himself and it is one that you have made. It sounds violent, but truth be told it’s anything but - he has been split open by your kindness, as if you were simply trying to carve away the rot and allow him to properly heal. That healing has barely started, and he's trying to patch over the necessary work with old bad habits which used to bring him joy. Not any longer, though. 

No. His soul isn’t in it today.

He returns to camp with his heart and pockets heavy. He wonders what he should do with his ill-gotten gains. Return them? Perhaps, as quietly as he took them in the first place, making sure no attention is paid to him. Gloss all of this over like an artist sealing a painting, finish this nasty piece of work. 

He’s so lost in his own thoughts that, when he pulls back the fabric door of his tent, your presence there makes him actually jump.

You’re sitting on an old wooden chair, dragged over from your own quarters, legs crossed with one of your pauldrons in your lap. A cloth is grasped in your hand and you’re taking your time shining the metal. He catches you doing this a lot. You like to make sure your armour is in tip-top condition, every day. You once told him cleaning your plate mail is an act of worship for you, and he found that quietly ridiculous; Pelor forbid you get any blood on the thing saving your life every battle.

He freezes when you look up at him. The door falls closed, trapping the two of you in the canvas together.

“You’re up late,” he says, trying to affect nonchalance. He does not think you’d be here if this was a social call, at least not with such a serious countenance. 

He’s been rumbled.

“Mm. I was in bed when I received a missive.” You hold the pauldron up and breathe a stream of warmth onto it, watching it fog before polishing the same spot.

“What sort of missive?”

“Nettie said she saw you skulking around the grove.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Bloody druids and their bloody perception. He’s going to torch that bloody Grove and all of those green-fingered bastards in it.

Except no, he’s not. He’d never. Not now. But he still finds himself going on the offensive, crossing his arms and scowling.

“Oh! ‘Skulking’, was it? Was that the actual word she used?”

“Yes, Astarion.”

He doesn’t have a response to that, so he just harrumphs. 

“You know that I do not lie,” you add on, as if his silence threatens to be damnation of your oath. 

“Mmm, I’m aware of that, and it is incredibly vexing!”

Finally you put the pauldron aside, all attention on him now. Hands clasped in your lap. Serious. 

“Turn out your pockets for me please, Astarion.”

Fuck. Fuck.

“No. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

You sigh.

“Is that because you’re denying you went and robbed our druid friends, or you just don’t want me to see what you took?”

His face burns. He doesn’t answer.

“Please, Astarion. Be a good boy.”

Oh. Oh. His body has an… involuntary response to that, one he wasn’t expecting at all. He feels himself throb as those words settle about him. 

“You’re not in charge of me,” he protests, but there’s little oomph behind it, because slowly his defences are beginning to fall. You need do so little and he is laid bare at your feet. He would lay himself bare at your feet.

He wonders if he can push you further. He wonders if this is all working for you as much as it’s working for him.

“I know I am not, my heart. But when you act like a brat I have little choice but to treat you like one.”

His mouth falls open at your brazenness, a perfect pink ‘o’.

His lips say, “I’m not acting like a brat!”

His cock says, I am and it’s on purpose. 

“Pockets,” you say one more time, and he feels the full force of your gaze upon him. Half-hard and flaming-cheeked, he gives in. Slowly he divests himself of all of the grove’s trinkets and treasures, laying them out on the floor at his feet in a slow display of shame. You remain absolutely neutral through it, face hardly moving an inch. When he unhands the final bunch of herbs you finally speak.

“Come here.”

If his heart needed to beat, it would be racing. He feels himself twitch in his underwear. 

He comes to you.

You reach out, wrapping a strong but sure hand around his wrist, fingers encircling its width perfectly… and then with a single tug, you topple him over into your lap.

He squeaks. Well, really, it is more of a moan, as he lands across your knees, your palm running across the swell of his arse. He’s never been so humiliated. He’s never been so aroused.

“Do you want me to stop?” you ask, voice feather-light, as solemnly as if you were swearing a vow. 

Ever since he escaped Cazador, he never lets anyone do anything he doesn’t want to his body. He won’t let them have control over him ever again. But this? You? That is different. He knows if he said a single word to the contrary, you would cease. You would not exploit him or take him for granted. He knows that he is precious to you, a thing to be treasured.

And for that, he trusts you to the ends of the world with him. To take care of him. 

To give him what he needs.

So when you ask him if he wants you to stop, even though he knows what’s coming, he whispers, ‘no.’

The first smack steals the air from his lungs, a breath he did not need but must have taken on his way over to you. It is a firm sting, and his cock goes from half-mast to full embarrassingly quickly.

Your hand goes back.

On the second smack, he finds himself mewling, a desperate little noise beckoned from the back of his throat from your ‘punishment’. It is one of rapture. He begins to try and rut into your thigh for some sort of relief, but you open your legs wider in order to remove his purchase on you. 

He whines. It isn’t fair. You keep going.

On the third, his arse has begun to smart. If he had blood his cheeks would be rosy, he’s sure. And yet each strike is like lightning up his spine. He has begun to leak into his britches just from this, and he feels pathetic and small, but so thoroughly safe and looked after in your embrace.

You ask him if he wants to continue. He nods so violently his neck threatens to break.

If this is the penance Pelor would have you deliver, perhaps he can find it in himself to be a religious man after all.

His head empties as you keep striking, but he hears the way you pause after every slap to listen: take notice of if he wants you to stop. When the only sounds you hear are moans of satisfaction, you keep going. He lies there, bonelessly aroused and limp-bodied, his whole universe centred entirely onto your hand and his cock.

“Do you want to come, Astarion?” you ask, eventually, voice heavy with desire. He nods, and for the first time he realises he has tears of overstimulation trickling down his face, so desperate is he to find release.

“Yes, yes, yes, fuck…” he groans. 

“And you’ll be a good boy if you do?”

Fuck. Anything you want.

“Yes…”

Your hand snakes round to cup him through his trousers. It only takes a couple of strokes over the fabric, and your touch is enough to finish him off. He comes in his underwear like a teenager who cannot control themselves, mewling and sobbing in desperation. It is like a blinding light across his eyelids, he swears for a second he sees your god in the white-hot intensity of his orgasm. The best one he’s ever had. 

You’re an angel, a fucking angel sent to be his salvation. 

As he rides out his climax against the meat of your palm, he feels the other one rubbing across his sore backside. It occurs to him you’re using your Lay on Hands to soothe some of the sting for him, which, if he were more lucid, he’d find utterly ridiculous; however as it is the ache in his arse is still pleasant but now less demanding of his attention. 

You manoeuvre him to sit up, letting his whole body collapse into yours. He is aware, through the cotton-clouds of his thoughts, that you are whispering his praises. Telling him how well he did. Reassuring him how much you care for him. Letting him know how proud you are. He’s never been so pleased in his life, and rubs his face into your neck, like a pampered cat seeking attention.

“Are you alright?” is what you ask eventually, after you’re sure he’s returned to himself properly.

“To be honest, I don’t remember the last time I was better,” he manages, and you laugh in a gravelly little chuckle. 

“Good. Your happiness matters to me.”

He can’t think of anyone who that’s ever been true for. He’s humbled that you have the sincerity to voice it. You are so… you’re so…

Wonderful. 

Even now, you care. He’s never had that before.

“Astarion…”

“Mmm?”

“Tomorrow, you’re returning those things to the Grove.”

He groans and you laugh again.

“Come on, now. You said you’d be good.”

“Fine! Fine. Just… don’t make me think about those nature-loving freaks while I’m bathing in the afterglow, hmm? I just had an orgasm that sent me into the astral plane. I’d like to enjoy it there a little longer.”

You do not argue. He feels your lips curl into a smile against the soft skin of his neck. 

Later, you’ll carry him to the nearest stream and wash him, your hands dancing across his skin like worship. You’ll treat him as if he is a holy relic. Precious. 

It will be then, in the water and softness of your touch, he will realise that he loves you.

The next day he gives back what is stolen. He can’t look at your thighs without his cheeks burning.

taglist & those who seemed interested: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @clairetheflower @foxiecelery @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling @wereallbrokenangels @tilldeathdonugget @useless-contributions @beardedladyqueen @hopeful-n-sad

#Astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x y/n #astarion ancunin #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion fic #bg3 fic #astarion x tav #Astarion smut #Also it says your skin has a pearlescent lustre. That isn’t meant to reflect skin colour - rather how matte it is

[minnaci]

CALM AFTER THE STORM

contents: nanami kento x gn!reader, jjk s2 spoilers (shibuya incident), hurt/comfort, reader is implied to have died years before the shibuya incident, cooking together as a love language, kissing, reunions, death

what is death if not a new beginning?

or, nanami makes his journey to the afterlife. it's not so bad.

it's strange, nanami thinks. he had forgotten what it meant to move without pain, and yet here he is, dancing without a care in the world. his joints don't crack, his knees don't ache. he could have sworn he had injured his eye, and yet, here he is, witnessing the ocean in its full, unfettered glory.

pantai cenang is beautiful. idyllic. not a curse in sight. nanami takes a moment to soak it all in. fine white sand. crystal blue water. coconut trees. there's a distinct lack of people— surprising, given how popular the beach is with tourists— but nanami knows better than to question such a blessing.

there's a little cottage in the distance, one that doesn't exist on any map. in his heart, nanami knows you're inside, humming as you wash the vegetables you'd picked from the garden. it's been too long since he's seen you, held you in his arms. months. years. his heart squeezes. ah, that familiar ache— yearning. he quickens his pace.

absence makes the heart grow fonder. in his mind's eye, you twirl in the sand with him, feet nimble. he spins, more graceful than he’s ever been. he soars. he falls. fighting is dancing in the same way that the waves batter against the shore— beauty and violence, art and destruction.

nanamin! a shout echoes across the water, and nanami lowers his arms, turning on instinct to the familiar voice. even in his retirement, it seems that he can still hear the voice of his loudest student.

ah, he's exhausted— this is what he gets for indulging in the sun. he can sense your frown already. you'd always fretted over him, all soft hands and gentle touches.

the scent of blood rises on the wind, but there is no fear. even sharks need to eat. such is the way life and death dance together.

nanamin! the voice shouts again, or maybe it’s an echo of the first call, bounding across the surf. his fatigue overwhelms him like falling in love— slow, then all at once.

he is so, so tired of fighting.

faster than he can comprehend, there’s a firm pressure against his stomach. a mosquito buzzes around his face. he swats it away idly. there’s something he’s forgetting. something important.

nanamin!

ah. that’s right. he doesn’t have to worry anymore.

“itadori,” he says, voice carrying over the waves. “you’ve got it from here.”

there’s a gut-wrenching snap in his core. it severs something vital, and yet… he’s never felt more alive. he is a hollow-boned creature, like the birds. finally, the weight of the world is no longer his to bear.

your presence calls to him, draws him in from across the beach, and he turns towards your siren’s song. his lips form the shape of your name. in the blink of an eye, his hand is on the doorknob to your cottage.

"i'm home."

you whip around so fast that nanami almost fears your neck will snap clean in two. “kento?”

“it’s me.”

there’s a split second where the world freezes. the light from the late early evening sun dances amongst dust motes. your lips part, and nanami trembles with the force of his want for you.

then, like the tide to the moon, like planets to a star, you crash together. you fly across the room into nanami’s waiting arms, two puzzle pieces finally clicking into place. when he kisses you, you taste like salt, like grief, like joy. it makes him want to kiss you more, kiss you harder, so he does.

you pull away, and nanami only just resists the urge to chase your lips.

"you're... so early. i didn't expect to see you here for a few more decades." you cup his face, fingers tracing over the familiar curves of his cheeks, his jaw. nanami turns his face into the affectionate touches.

"and leave you to eat dinner alone?" nanami leans in again, kissing the tears from your cheeks in a few quick, fluttering brushes of lips against skin. “i’m officially retired. where else would i want to be, if not with you?”

“you’re so romantic today.” there’s a choked quality to your voice.

oh, nanami thinks. it’s really been too long. “i’m romantic all the time for you.”

“i missed you.” apropos of nothing, the words tear from your chest, like you can’t hold them back anymore. your face crumples. heat pricks behind nanami’s eyes as you bury your face against his chest, frame trembling with the effort of holding back your tears. “i missed you so much.”

comfort has never been nanami’s forte, but with you, it’s as easy as breathing to hug you closer, to make soft, soothing sounds, to rub gentle circles over your back.

“i missed you, too,” he says, a confession. the world swims in his vision. he blinks rapidly. “more than you could ever know.”

he rocks you back and forth, back and forth, holding you as you shake apart in his arms. there’s no pressure to perform, no shareholders to impress, no curses to exorcise. only you, and your love, and your touch.

and he gets to have this forever.

nanami’s not sure how long you stay there, only that his skin still hungers for yours when you press a teary kiss to his cheek and maneuver out of his hold. you sniffle, wipe your eyes, and offer him a familiar apron with a watery smile. “here. you still remember how to cook, right, mr. salaryman sorcerer?”

“what are we making?” nanami takes the proffered apron. i’m the cook, it reads. he glances down at your apron, already knowing what it says. kiss the cook. the corner of his mouth twitches up.

“hainan chicken rice,” you say. “when in malaysia…”

“of course,” he says. “pass me the knife.”

it’s been a while since he’s handled a sharp blade. the handle sits in the palm of his hand— rough, worn smooth by years of use. a tool of the home. he finds that he likes the weight of it.

the rhythm of cooking is an intimate waltz. one, two, three. he crushes the garlic under the flat of his knife, then minces it. bits of garlic cling to his fingers, and he picks it off, shapes it into a pile. the papery peel is swept aside, to be returned to the earth.

the edge of his blade is used to peel ginger. short, quick strokes— not a motion wasted. when he’s done, the ginger’s aroma tickles his nose, as sharp as his knife. he slices it thinly and places it next to the garlic.

you heat oil in a pan as he works, humming a low melody. he hasn’t heard it in years, but it’s as warm and familiar as the bed you share. when the oil starts to sizzle, you add in his minced garlic, his sliced ginger. the scent spreads through the room, savory and safe.

you produce rice from a small rice cooker. it’s not ideal to use freshly cooked rice in fried rice dishes, but nanami has every confidence you’ll manage. while you stir in the chicken fat and bullion, he looks around for something else to set his blade to.

cucumbers, fresh from your garden outside. nanami taps one gently, a faint smile pulling at the edges of his lips at the hollow, satisfying thock. it’s quick work to peel them, revealing pale green flesh. it’s even quicker work to slice them. he loses himself in the task, in the comfort of your presence, and lets his muscle memory take over.

“are you using your technique on those poor cucumbers?” there’s a smile in your voice. nanami glances down at the cucumbers, and sure enough, they’re sliced in uneven fractions of 7/10.

the motions of violence are not so easily forgotten, but true peace lasts only in the memory of war. nanami gives you a small smile, presses a soft kiss to your temple, and resumes cutting his cucumbers— evenly, this time. even the sharpest of blades can be repurposed.

dinner is a quiet affair. two plates, two cups of tea, two settings at the table. conversation flows as easily as wine. your foot nudges against his calf— once, twice. he nudges back, delighting in the radiant smile that you can’t seem to hold back.

both of your plates sit empty upon the table. the last dregs of tea cool in your cups. cleaning up is quick, made quicker by long-established routine: he washes, you dry. on the last of the dishes, he leans into you— a silent request. you lean back— acquiescence.

he will never tire of touching you. instinct is a trembling little creature in his heart, and you are the soft hands that soothe him, letting him pull you flush against his chest. minutes drip into hours, and the sun begins its slow descent as he cradles you in his arms. somehow, you migrate to bed, and then everything is warmth and love and perfection.

these quiet delights, this tender intimacy— nanami revels in it, revels in this little life, this future you share.

“the sun is setting,” you murmur, a tender look in your eyes. you’re a vision painted in gold light, an angel in soft sheets. he could soak in you forever. “it’s almost time to go home.”

“is home as good as this?” he takes your hand, presses a kiss to the back of it.

“it’s better.” you slip out of bed, and he follows you outside. a gentle breeze ruffles his hair, brings him the scent of salt and the sea. the sun dips lower on the horizon, and yet, the light only brightens. it’s not harsh, but a gentle, beckoning warmth.

“are you ready, kento?”

“you’ll be with me?” it wouldn’t be a home without you.

“i will. i promise.” you take his hand, lean in, press a kiss to his cheek. tension drains from his shoulders like the low tide. a home with you is more than he could have ever dreamed of. “let’s go home.”

together, you walk into the light. neither of you look back.

tags: @angelshub @enchantedforest-network

#nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk spoilers #writemin! #+nanamin

[hxjikonn]

Hello! Congrats on 143 followers! You deserve it!

Could I request Malleus, Kalim, Vil, Ace, and Jamil with an s/o telling them they're the best thing to have ever blessed her eyes?

A/N: ’M GONNA CRY I LOVE THIS SM 😭♥︎ I have a 3-4 characters limit though so I had to take out Vil and Jamil as I didn’t have time 😔 maybe I’ll add a pt.2 in the future with the two in it! I hope you like it!

Got me Lovestruck

☆Staring☆: Ace Trappola, Malleus Draconia, and Kalim Al Asim

Synopsis: Their reaction to Fem!Reader suddenly saying they’re ‘the best things to ever bless her eyes’

Warnings: Tooth rooting fluff, I don’t proofread my shit so prolly grammatical errors, missing words, etc. I’m sorry💀💀💀

Ace Trappola

You two were doing your usual trouble causing habits, only to be caught by one of the teachers and get sent to detention. “I cant believe we have to write a 500 word essay about why we shouldn’t balance stuff on top of sleeping people’s heads….” Ace groaned quite heavily slamming his head down his desk.

“Like, it’s not OUR fault they fell asleep where we are! That should be an unspoken rule! ‘never fall asleep around Ace or Y/n’ right???” He turned to look at you with a frown as his head still laid there, you giggle at your boyfriend’s frustration and reached over to play with his hair in attempt to calm him down from his tantrum.

After awhile he stopped ranting and just doodle on the paper near where his face rested on his desk, pouting but enjoying the feeling of your hands running through his hair. You found yourself chuckling at the boy’s expression, you always found it endearing how he made you laugh at any given situation…it was one of the reasons why you fell for him…

“Ace you’re one of the best things to ever bless my eyes y’know that?” You blurted out, a soft smile plastered on your face as you looked at him. Needless to say he stopped whatever nonsense he was doing and looked right back at you. Eyes widened and shocked from the sudden confession you’ve made.

Cue Microsoft shut down sound

Wouldn’t know how to react, like his heart is pounding and wants to kiss you right then and there but also a nervous wreck

All his ‘rizz’ that he’d usually brag about would be flushed down the drain, and he has now downgraded into a flustered speechless boy.

When you notice he was acting like a deer caught in headlights, you leaned in and pecked his forehead to bring him back to reality.

He wanted to melt, that’s what he felt like. He pulled you closer to him by the waist and just buried himself in your embrace.

You’d tease him but let him do that until his brain starts running again and is able to produce words.

Once he’s up and running again he’d gather enough courage to leave soft kisses on your collarbone as he’s still too red to kiss your face.

“I fucking love you, I cant- I don’t even- Ughhhh see??? this is what you do to me?? Oh my gosh…”

Malleus Draconia

You two were out on your nightly walks again and he’s going on a tangent about gargoyles while holding on to your hand, you listened and probably know what he’s talking about already due to countless times he’s mention this subject to you whenever it sparks up in your conversations.

Still you listened to him fondly, showing interest to his likings aswell, occasionally you’d ask him questions, and he’d elaborate. You loved how enthusiastic he was when he talks about the things that he likes, the hobbies he does, or anything at all if your being honest.

The horned fae’s voice was like that song you’ll never get tired of, suddenly a question from him cuts you off your train of thought “aren’t they the greatest creatures to bless this earth my dear?” He asks you. “I beg to differ” you protested, he was shocked as you always agreed with him on this, “oh? well then please do” he offers, awaiting for your argument. He was always up for a friendly debate.

You smiled up at him, “They’re not the greatest thing to ever bless MY eyes…because that would be you, my prince” and lifted up his hands to plant a small kiss on his knuckles. “And my opinion wont be swayed so don’t even try tsunotaro” you grinned at him. Suddenly though…your lover stopped walking.

He hears church bells ringing lol

He’d passionately but gently give you a kiss, you’d have to be the one who pulls away frist because this man isn’t stopping 🥹

He was already asking DEMANDING you marry him and ‘no’ isn’t an option. Already has your whole life with him planned in his head.

You’d giggle at his sudden statement and he explains to you that he wasn’t joking. You’d assure him that you knew he wasn’t but ‘not now’

He frowns, but understands and doesn’t push you any further (for now at least) He couldn’t leave you that night, so he stayed over and slept beside you. Coddling you with affection

Would be thinking about what you said to him everyday and smiling, he’d set the whole world on fire if you wanted him to, no questions asked.

After that day he’d keep asking ‘when’ you were going to marry him. And would be stuck to you like glue.

“Malleus…this isn’t your class” “I understand sir Trein but I simply cannot leave my wife…” “WIFE?!?!” “EXCUSE ME??!” “Mal go to your class”

Kalim Al Asim

You two were just hanging out in Scarabia, he was simply laying on your chest, content as he watched vidoes on his phone. These were the days where it was peaceful, the only sounds that were heard were birds chirping and occasionally small talk from the two of you.

Kalim was busying himself with the content his phone provided, making little noises like gasps or laughs from time to time. You just watched him, as his expression changes, finding yourself laughing aswell because you thought he was cute.

He’d look up at you from his phone and ask what you found amusing but you’d tell him that it was nothing and he’d just go back to doing what he was doing. This went on for awhile until he puts down his phone and looks up at you with a pout, “What?? You’ve been laughing since earlier, is there something on my face?…” he whines, climbing up the cushion to meet your eyes and lays down beside you.

You nod, so he starts wiping his face with his hands you only respond with a laugh again, slowly you took his hands off his face and replaces them with yours, “What? What’s on my face?“ he asks, “The best thing to ever bless my eyes” you answered and gave him a kiss. You swore you saw his pupils dilate.

Would cry 💀💀💀 no seriously he’d start tearing up.

You notice this and ask what was wrong, finding it a bit funny that your boyfriend just starts crying for no reason.

He’d burry his face in your chest sobbing, hands wrapped tightly on your waist, mumbling little I love you’s

You laugh at him for this as you thought it was adorable, you peppered him with kisses to make him stop crying.

When you ask him again he’d just say that he loves you so much that’s why he started crying. And once again burry himself in your warmth.

Would rub hearts on your back and leave kisses on your neck sometimes. When you end up falling asleep first he’d watch you sleep and tell you how much you mean to him.

Would always remind you that he loves you everyday from then on. Like ALL THE TIME, you have to tell him to stop sometimes ‘cuz it comes at the most RANDOM of hours.

“Y/n….?” “Hm???” “I love you okay? Very much…” “love it’s 3 in the morning” “I know, I just wanted to tell you that, go back to sleep now, I love you” “Hm…I love you too..” “I love you more-“ “Kalim…”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland reaction #twst x mc #twst x yuu #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader

[muzansfangs]

Jugram x f! Reader NSFW??

In the river of crazy.

Starring: Jugram Haschwalth x f!reader;

Format: one-shot;

Warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, creampie, dom!haschwalth, sub!reader, slightly somnophilia, choking, mention to pregnacy, rough sex, mention to bruises, not defined relationship status;

Plot: he had been always taciturn. You knew Haschwalth’s life was nothing like that of a common civilian. It was a miracle even being able to meet him, at times. Therefore, you left him the key of your flat. When he was upset, you knew what to expect from him. That night, when he slipped into your room and found you asleep in your bed, he did not hesitate to take what he wanted.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

He had never talked much. His cynic and detached nature matched with his stern expression. Haschwalth Jugram was more than handsome. His beauty made angels turn away in jealousy. You remembered with a certain nostalgia how you had thought he was not real, when two first met. No one could be blessed with such perfect features: no creature blessed by a divinity for sure.

There was something demonic about his perfect visage.

His icy blue eyes were his finest weapon. They always stunned you in silence, the moment you made eye-contact. All that you knew was that you could not resist him, you could not oppose yourself to him, you were totally subjected to his requests, eager to satisfy his darkest desires. Everything felt like an endless dream you did not want to wake up from, albeit your relationship was not defined. He would have never told you that he loved you, but if he kept on sticking around, his cold eyes lingering on your face rather than your body, perhaps you were not just a rag doll for him to toss around. It was not a simple lie you told yourself not to suffer for his mood swings.

Haschwalth never cared about anyone. You wondered if that little thing you had meant that he cared a tad bit about you. Then again, there was a chance you were being delusional.

Once, as the night breeze caressed your sweaty faces, blowing gently through the opened window of your bedroom, he had decided to talk to you. He had said those damn words that are still ringing in your head, making your heart skip a beat whenever the thought of him crossed your mind.

“It’s not just sex. I need you” he had stated, his eyes transfixed on the ceiling, his fingers combing your hair absent-mindedly, while you looked at him with droopy eyes full of expectations. Haschwalth Jugram confused you. What a way to mess with your head.

It had been a whole week, since your last encounter. You had waited for him, both day and night, standing by the window with the same apprehension a wife would have for her husband. But you were far from being his woman. In the end, he probably just seeked comfort from you, a person who would have nor questioned him, neither judged his behavior.

No matter for how long he was away, Jugram would have always come back to you. He knew your door would have been opened for him.

As the moon raised up into the night sky, your droopy eyes gave up. Waiting wide awake for him to arrive was useless at this point. As you dragged your feet along the floor to reach your bedroom, your gaze trailed up to the clothes hanger, hoping to see his white cape on it. What a fool you were. He was not there, you needed to deal with it, to accept this unavoidable truth.

Crawling over the bed, however, you chose to abandon your usual spot. Ignoring your pillow, you nuzzled your face on his one, inhaling deeply in a futile attempt to detect even a dull track of his cologne. Much to your dismay, it was fading away. But you would have never forgotten it anyway. Peppermint and an ounce of musk. The amount of nights it had lulled you to sleep was uncountable.

You sighed, heavy eyelids yielding to the fatigue of the day and the turmoil of emotions you were experiencing. You missed him, you missed the way he made you feel. Drifting into the realm of Morpheus, allowing the god to sing a peaceful lullaby to calm your heart, you allowed yourself to finally rest. Snuggled into the blankets, tired of waiting on someone who seemed to live just fine without you, nothing seemed to be able to torment you anymore.

The key unlocking the front door of your home a few hours later did not startle you. How could you hear light footsteps approaching your bedroom, or the sound of rustling clothes as someone began to undress himself by your bed? You were fast asleep.

But he was there. He had come back to claim you once again. He could not help himself, when he spotted you in a fetal position among the snow-white blankets, so small compared to him and, above all, vulnerable. A lamb to the slaughter, his favorite victim but also the only person he could never really get rid of.

You were stuck in his head, you and your way of letting him know that no matter what he did outside your flat, no matter how many people he had killed, you would have always welcomed him between your arms. You were his haven. How was he supposed to stay away from you?

As the last piece of his clothing fell on the floor and he carefully climbed on on the bed, hovering over you and inspecting your features, there was nothing he could do if not delicately tracing your cheekbone with his cold, soft lips. A way to worship you, a way to gently letting you know that he was there for you and you warmth and there would have not been anything that could have ever stopped him from it.

You hummed softly, still half-asleep as your senses began to awaken again and the presence of a naked, muscular body pressed against yours made your heart skip a beat. Your lids lifted slowly, lips parting as you soaked in the angelic visage of the man you had learned to love through blood-stained clothes and sharp blades.

Blonde strands of his hair fell over your face as you reached your hand up to cup his smooth cheek in your hand “Haschwalth…” you whispered softly, lips parted in disbelief.

“Hush, it’s me” he replied in his usual monotone tone, a simple confirmation that he was really there, that you were not imagining him. It was not a vision.

You sighed, tears brimming up in your eyes, but you knew better than allowing them to spill out and run down your cheeks. Instead, you fluttered your eyes closed and let his lips leave a trail of open mouthed kisses from your jaw down to your collarbone. He nibbled at the tender flesh, sucking, lapping at your skin so sensually, but showing that he had suffered starvation like a lion in a desert.

He was not gentle, once his hand reached down to hike the hem of your nightgown up, his slender fingers did nothing more than pushing the fabric to the side, and you were met with a guttural growl rambling from his throat, when the pads of his fingers met your wetness. You had missed this like crazy, you had missed the way he somehow always found a way to make you so responsive in a matter of seconds.

You moaned, his fingers delving into your welcoming core, pumping in and out as he prepared you for what was yet to come. It was true that you were used to him, to his rough touch, to the way you crumbled completely when he touched you. But you felt tears brimming in your eyes, the nature of which was either the immense pleasure he was making you experience or the way your body had missed him.

“J-Jugram” you breathed out, your toes curling in pleasure, as the pressure on your lower abdomen coiled. You were close to snap, to release and he knew it. He could feel it in the way your inner, spongy walls, tightened around his fingers.

“Shut up” he whispered firmly, wrapping his free hand around your throat. The pressure was enough to prevent you from squirming around, but not enough to strangle you. The air he was depriving you of made your head spin a tad bit, but it made you focus more and more on your incoming orgasm.

Touching yourself in his absence had been pointless, the only thing it resulted in was feeding your pent up frustration of wasted orgasms far from matching the ones he induced you at.

As he felt your inner walls tightening around his slender fingers, a clear signal that your climax was about to burst, he withdrew them quickly and grasped his cock, giving it some languid strokes before lining it up to your entrance. His hand, choking you, slithered down your waist and gripped your hip to keep you in place, eyes locked with yours, as he finally entered you with a guttural moan.

Inch by inch, you took him inside you, where he belonged, where he was always supposed to be. Your jaw went slack, a strained moan leaving your lips as he gave you the time to adjust to him once again. Your arms found their place around his shoulders, your palms flattening against his muscular back and shoulderblades.

“I missed you” you meekly whimpered, while Jugram kissed you briefly, before picking up a steady by rough pace that made your body jolt with each of his thrusts.

He groaned, his grip on your body tightening as you came to the terms that he would have left some clear bruises and fingerprints over your hips. But it was in his style, this was the Sternritter Grandmaster. As charming as he was, he was a cold-blooded man.

High-pitched moans and grunts filled the room. The crescendo making you shiver as a sinful orchestra played in your bedroom. The lewd sound of skin again skin, the shaky breaths, the sound of the headbed slamming against the cerulean wall behind you were all part of this sinful song you had agreed on playing.

You did not expect him to say anything now, as your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, but he did. As he gripped your jaw, your orgasm building up again, you realized he was close to the edge and quite desperate too.

“I will show you how much I missed you. I’ll fuck a baby into you tonight” he huskily said, leaving you in a daze as butterflied fluttered into your stomach. Maybe you were not just his stress-relief object. You were more.

You were more and you knew it, as he gave you one last thrust, muffling your moan with his mouth and pressing his lips onto yours, while he filled you up to the brim. Your own juices milked him, making Jugram groan and kiss your cheek, when he slowly began to pull out of you.

“You’re staying with me. Tonight, forever” he breathed out, before collapsing onto the bed beside you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! Not me cheering because I have fulfilled a request after so long! I wonder why every single time I write for Haschwalth Jugram I end up writing such lewd scenes… Who knows?😂❤️

As per usual, likes, comments and re-posts are highly appreciated!

Tags: @electronicwitchcollection @brittscafe @shattereddreamssara @tsuukichan @cyberdazetragedy

#haschwalth x reader #jugram haschwalth x reader #jugram x reader #jugram haschwalth #bleach jugram #haschwalth jugram x reader #bleach smut #bleach x reader

[llondonfog]

MILK & HONEY. + dazzling fic art by @suntails <3 (also available on ao3)

“It will be alright, darling boy, I promise— everything will be alright.”

There’s no response, but Lilia doesn’t mind. His son has always been the quiet, thoughtful sort. Humming faint snatches of a lullaby long forgotten, he threads a hand through the boy’s moonlit strands, apathetic to the copper rust smears left behind. The child’s bangs have grown, he notes idly, fussing with the strands that have fallen over the boy’s face. Lilia ought to cut them soon.

“There will be time for that later,” he finishes his thought out loud, bending forward to press his lips benevolently to his son’s cool forehead— a blessing, Lilia thinks privately with a smile, examining the faint crimson outline of his lips against that pale skin. Blood of the father, blood of the son; sacrament and all that.

“But for now, my dear,” he gently strokes the backs of stained claws against the side of his boy’s face, leaving a virginal blush behind on a bloodless cheek. “It is time for you to wake up.”

Silver is five years old and held at knifepoint when he first meets his father. 

There is a man holding his small arms behind his back, another grasping at his feet, while a third laughs grimly down at his rapidly watering eyes and traces the blade delicately against his temple.

“You’ve been a burden on our village for far too long, brat,” he sneers while Silver’s rabbit heart beats fast and panicked within his heaving chest. “No mother, no father, cared for out of the kindness of our hearts, and you have the nerve to go about stealing our scraps to feed the animals?”

They’re hungry too! Silver wants to cry out, if opening his mouth wouldn’t drag the blade against his hairline. And they’re his friends, when no one else would be. 

The man, unfortunately, is right.

He has no family to speak of; an abandoned babe with odd-colored eyes, silkspun hair, and a debilitating tendency to sleep without cause like the dead themselves that had everyone in the village whispering fearful tales of curses and changelings. It didn’t help that the spring of his arrival had marked the beginning of a painful famine that would relentlessly grip the decaying land, crops failing out of a barren and cracked landscape as rivers began to bleed thin and dry. Changeling or not, it hardly took much time at all for any sympathetic feeling towards the foundling child to metamorphosize into bitter resentment at an extra mouth to feed when their own fevered children were crying out for more. Was it any wonder that he had turned to the few remaining woodland creatures for comfort, saving meager portions of his already miniscule meal to share in gratitude for their simple acceptance and affection? 

The man with the knife doesn’t wait for any answering explanation, merely smacks the blade pointedly against his cheek with a cruel, hungry gleam in those dead fish eyes, and the other two holding him still trade malicious grins. 

“It’s only fair that you pay for what you stole,” the man continues, almost kind and patient in his rationale— (I didn’t steal! Silver wants to shout, mouth dry and empty with fear. I only ever gave them food from my portion!)— and he hums with a terrifying softness at the way Silver’s frightened gaze tracks the knife’s every teasing glide about his forehead and his limbs tremble in their brutish hold. “Oh, not with your life— not at first, anyways. We’re going to scalp you; I can only imagine the price your pretty hair will fetch when we tell the traders that it's woven out of pure silver. It’s a start for what you owe us all for taking care of your worthless and lazy hide for the past five years, and then—”

He pauses as if for some grand operatic effect, savoring the way the tears helplessly gather and bubble at the edge of Silver’s lashes with a wicked smile. 

“Then, we’ll kill you and plate you tonight as dinner. I think there’s enough to go around for the rest of the village, don’t you?”

Two things happen: First, Silver bursts into tears. Second, a dark shape drops from the trees above and latches onto the man’s throat, tearing it open in one fluid movement and soaking the entire scene, Silver included, in a hot spray of blood.  

The entire woodland clearing erupts into chaotic, frenzied screaming. The other two men violently shove him forward in a futile attempt to use him as a shield and escape, and he falls numbly to the ground, limbs frozen in place out of dumb shock as shadows leap effortlessly over his head. The knife that had been so sinister just moments ago lies dull and dirtied in the forest floor by the now nearly headless corpse, and in the dim reflection of its blade, Silver can make out the similar gruesome demise of his other captors. The shrieking fearful sounds are silenced just as abruptly as they began; in less than thirty seconds, the forest has returned to its quiet, sedative self, at peace with the justice that has been served. 

Who . . ?

Quiet, gentle footsteps sound from behind him, their stride unhurried and at ease as they round his quivering, prostrate frame, and something hysterically yells in his mind that it’s poor manners to not at least look his rescuer in the eyes. 

“Hello, child,” the angel (for surely that must be, he fell from the heavens, did he not?) smiles down at him through dripping fangs.

Silver stares up through blood-splattered lashes at his savior and wonders if this is what it’s like to be stricken with love. 

The vampire takes him home. 

He laughs uproariously when Silver so shyly and seriously wonders aloud if he was truly an angel, with hands as kind and gentle as the spring sun upon the muddy bruises and dried wounds from the knife split across his face. 

He laughs at a lot of things that Silver says. It’s uncannily loud and booming for such a small man, but Silver instantly decides that he likes it.

The vampire explains that he is, well, a vampire. He even lets Silver curiously brush tiny fingers over his fangs once they’ve been cleaned of blood and gristle, smiling down at him all the while without a trace of malice that he’s grown so used to seeing. 

He tells Silver that his name is Lilia, Lilia Vanrouge. It’s a difficult name, a weighty name for Silver’s tongue to pronounce, but he rolls it softly in his mouth to savor it all the same, marveling at how much it feels like royalty. 

Lilia explains to him by the light of the fire that he’s lived for a very long time, that he’s enjoyed a life rich beyond anyone’s comprehension from all of the sights he’s seen and the wonders he’s traveled. But no creature is immortal, not even vampires, as long-lived as they may be— the years are heavier now, they ache and sting at his bones as if he’d soaked them in baptismal water. And in his many travels, he had so happened to stumble upon this empty cottage tucked away and abandoned inside this quiet, peaceful forest—

(“Like me,” Silver whispers solemnly. “Is that so?” says Lilia, summer-cherry eyes brilliant against the flames.) 

—and so he had thought, what a nice place to relax and rest his weary soul, a place for him to enjoy a rare moment of serenity before the next grand adventure swept him back out to sea. 

“How silly of me at my age to think that I could anticipate the future,” Lilia brushes his hand gently through Silver’s tangled hair, the knots easily coming undone from a mere sweep of his fingertips. Silver can’t quite recall how and when he had made his way onto the vampire’s lap, only that he is leaning his head adoringly against the man’s chest, staring up at him with bated breath.

“I didn’t expect to have to rescue my newest venture!” 

There’s no need to discuss it after that: Lilia never asks him to leave, and Silver never thinks to do so. 

It’s idyllic. Lilia feeds him, clothes him, lets him play with the forest animals for as long as he wishes. They take care of the little cottage together— Silver discovers a patch of land in the back that at one point might have been a sad attempt at a garden, but under the patient toil of the two of them, burgeons into life with all manner of flowers and vegetables. Lilia teaches him how to darn his socks and how to properly use a whetstone. He tucks Silver into the small bed alongside him and paints visions of faraway worlds upon the thin wooden walls, a better storyteller than any traveling bard that had come to the village before.

When Silver calls him ‘Father’ for the first time, he doesn’t laugh. 

In return, Silver doesn’t complain when he helps Lilia mop up any traces of blood from the traveler he’s feasted upon for the night. 

His father is not a monster, this Silver knows as truly as the sun travels through the sky. The weary men and women who wander across their little abode are treated with nothing but kindness— a warm seat by the fire, a fresh meal to eat, and a soft place to rest their heads. All that his father asks of them is to spare what little coin and wares that they are able to part with, a strange gleam in his eyes and a sincere smile on his face.

Without fail, the strangers comply. They always do.

And in the morning, if they’re a little more woozy than when they laid down to sleep, Silver reassures them that the small satchel of strong-smelling herbs and wrapped provisions for the road will do them a world of good. Together, father and son stand in the doorway of their humble home, hands raised in gestures of well wishes and farewell, as good hosts ought to do. Their visitors stumble down the chrysanthemum and lycoris-lined pathway back to the welcoming arms of the forest, and Silver flexes his toes in his new shoes while his father indulgently twirls his latest trinket around his fingertips, admiring the glint of it in the pale sunlight. 

(“Not all vampires are as kind as I am, child,” his father explains to him as he tucks a sheathed blade into the drawer of their nightstand, under the pressed and faded flowers that Silver had brought for him over time. “There are those who would see longevity as the means to power instead of the humbling blessing that it truly is. There are those who have let their years sour their minds like fermented wine, who have only steeped in cruelty instead of basking in the innocence that still exists in this world. And I would not have you defenseless inside our own home.”

Silver looks at the dull sheen of the knife and thinks back to the cold sting of one flayed against his cheek, and he wonders if those who lurk in the shadows of the night are truly the ones he ought to fear.)  

The years pass in this necessary fashion, seasons tumbling and turning over themselves with a prevailing peace that Silver had once believed could only exist in storybooks. He outgrows his sleeves faster than travelers pass by, and it isn’t long before he finds himself a whole head and a half taller than the vampire. His father laughs at his shaggy bangs, proclaiming Silver to be more sheep than boy, and attacks his hair with all the ferocity of a mad barber. The lasting effect leaves something to be desired and Silver could swear that the bluebirds by their window are chortling to themselves instead of singing. 

His father ruffles his sharp nails through the butchered mess of Silver’s hair and laughs again, proclaiming them to be matching lopsided twins, and Silver is unable to imagine a moment that he’s ever been happier. 

What a shame it is then, that all good things cannot last. 

The summer of Silver’s sixteenth year is a cruel, unforgiving one. 

The August sun swelters the earth with a breathless heat, insidious like none before. It is relentless in its seething anger to drive the woodland creatures to the deepest burrows in search of shade, the birds to practically droop like molten taffy in their water bowls, and his father to haunt the shadows of their home, face flushed and eyes feverish in a way that no cool rag could soothe. 

There could be no greater pain in Silver’s heart than this: the wilt in his father’s proud spine, the light tremors that seize his clever fingertips. He hovers over the vampire like a fretting maid, hands wringing uselessly as nothing short of the obvious will soothe his father’s condition, and travelers have been few and far between. Lilia conjures up smiles for him and swears that he’ll be alright, it’s simply a harsher season than before, and Silver cannot help but get the distinct feeling that he’s being placated. Even worse, it mostly works, the lonely and frightened child from the woods who sleeps deep in his soul comforted by that unsinkable paternal reassurance. 

Still, Silver is unable to completely shake the feeling that something is amiss. 

Lately, his rest at night has been disturbed. He wakes to the faint sounds of ruptured inhales so very close to his ear, of something in the clear throes of distress, with choked noises of desperately sought after air as if the deprived creature was suffocating. The noises are so frightening, so animalistic in nature that Silver can only think to associate them with his beloved woodland creatures, and yet when he hurries to his bedroom window and peers outside with his heart in his throat to find the poor animal that had been mauled by a predator— there is nothing but the silent gleam of moonlight, shining down upon his deflated flower beds. 

His father merely purses his lips in worry when Silver brings these odd instances to him, and wonders aloud if these are queasy dreams brought on by the heat; with little else to explain, Silver’s inclined to believe him. 

But these events are pushed out of his mind when salvation finally approaches one late afternoon in the weary figure of a man, clinging to the reins of a stumbling horse, at the end of their pathway. 

His father must have sensed the newcomer’s presence too, for Lilia is at the door before Silver can even call for him, ever the gracious host and smiling beatifically at their wayward traveler as if Silver hadn’t needed to shake his shoulders thrice in mounting worry to wake him that very morning. The man eagerly accepts the offer of nightly shelter, passing the reins of his horse to Silver to tie to a post in the welcome shade of a nearby tree, and Silver watches over its broad shoulder as he gently rubs the creature down. His father, ever the effortless conversationalist even at the height of his malady, needs no reins with which to lead the man into the cool, womb-like darkness of their home, and Silver feels a rush of palpable relief at the familiarity of the old song and dance— perhaps at last, his father might finally take a turn for the better.  

The next morning, Silver checks on his father first and smiles to see the vampire snoring away in what must have been his first blissful sleep in weeks, bedsheets haphazardly tangled about him in an ocean of white. With practiced motions, he leans down to straighten the blankets fondly around the slumbering figure, only to wrinkle his nose at the sharp scent of iron heavy on his father’s breath. After such a dry spell, the bitter tang scratches at his senses, and he can’t help but take a glance into their tiny living room where their guest yawns and shuffles in his borrowed blankets. 

Perhaps a breakfast with a healthy side of dark, leafy greens was in order. 

Morning is a quiet and simple affair— his father is sleeping in for once it seems, and Silver makes efficient work out of the early meal for their guest who must have had a rough night of tossing and turning judging by his wrinkled clothes and constant, belly-deep yawns. Silver even offers for the man to stay a while longer if he isn’t fit yet for travel, but their guest insists (rather strongly for his exhausted nature) that he could not impose on their goodwill much longer. With a mental shrug, Silver bows his head and allows the man privacy to retrieve his things, heading outside with the intent to bring the waiting horse to its owner. 

Only, the horse is nowhere to be seen. 

Silver’s heart falters in his chest, and he turns to their departing guest with a litany of apologies on his lips, for he had been so sure of tying the creature up safely for the night, but the man waves him off with an unsteady hand and a smile that keeps attempting to slip from his face as if greased, proclaiming that he had no need for what had been such an aging beast. He could continue his travels alone, and Silver can only watch and uneasily curl his fingers into his palms as the man cuts a wavering figure back down their pathway despite his bewildered protests. 

(“We ought to warn those who stop by that there may be a bear in the woods,” he tells his father later, the vampire having woken long past their traveler’s departure. “The noises I’ve been hearing and now the horse’s disappearance. . . someone could get hurt.” 

His father doesn’t seem too concerned with Silver’s hypothesis, and he supposes that’s simply how one behaves after centuries of besting mortality. Still, he resolves to be more cautious in his time spent outdoors.) 

The man’s arrival marks a turning point in the summer, the blistering dog days giving way to the cooler promise of autumn. It also marks a turning point in his father’s health, one that Silver is initially so incredibly grateful for as the vampire seems to perk up and become the very picture of rosy, energetic grace. The weakened figure of mere weeks prior haunts the corridors of his mind, and Silver finds himself making excuses as his father welcomes the oddly increasing number of strangers who have found themselves down their homely path with open arms and glittering eyes above a wide, gleaming smile. It had simply been a veritable drought of company, and his father, gregarious as he was, was in his element now, thriving off the attention almost as much as the blood that came with it.

And perhaps that is what itched at his nerves most of all. It was one thing to suddenly play house with the travelers that seemed to constantly appear on their doorstep—

(Silver had questioned them, a discomforting notion to learn that not only had they been told of the cottage’s existence by those who staggered off in the mornings, but almost fervently urged to visit.)

—but never before had he witnessed his father drink in such abandon. With such a slow, but steady, trickle of visitors, his father may have sampled another’s blood once or twice a month at most, always cautious enough to not take too much. His father is not a monster, and his kindness exceeds that of all the humanity that Silver had known in his short life— this he tells himself as he averts his gaze from the still-clotting punctures, glistening and accusatory over rumpled shirts. 

His father is not a monster, and he still tells himself this as he stumbles out of his bedroom one cold winter’s night, awoken once more to that strange, garbled collection of sound. His father is not a monster, because it simply could not be his father crouched before him on the floor of their living room, an all too still and silent figure splayed out beneath him like a rag doll. He surely must be dreaming, as those muffled, wet noises pause in their desperate slurping and enlarged fangs draw up and away from a ruined shoulder, dripping in a dark, glutinous substance. His father is not a monster, because the creature hunched in the shadows of a dying fire looks nothing like the angel who had rescued him in the forest all those years ago— whatever this, this thing is, slavering wildly over a face locked in a euphoric death mask, it is not his dearest father.

They behold each other in the scant space of a fragile moment, a bewildered gaze still frozen before the onslaught of horror could possibly sink in opposite that of unmoored feral hunger. Silver thinks back to the knife hidden beneath the drawer of his nightstand, cloaked in dust and dried flowers and the somber protection of a father’s love. He thinks back to the incredible speed that had disposed of the men who had intended to kill him on such a similar frigid night, a speed unmatched to the naked eye. 

The vampire utters his name like a prayer, smeared tenderly in lamb’s blood.

His father is not a monster.

Silver opens his arms, and waits for his angel to carry him home. 

In response to the delicate graze of his father’s gore-drenched claws against his youthful face, the boy’s eyes flutter open at last. Lilia does not seem to notice the vibrancy that has vanished from them, leaving behind the dull haze of a mist-choked morn where once the dawn light soared; perhaps he simply does not care. “Oh, Silver,” he breathes in reverence, the miraculous wonder of a father witnessing his child’s (re)birth for the first time, and he throws his arms around the boy’s stiff shoulders. There is no response, but that is to be expected when one is missing a greater third of their tattered and torn esophagus, the mutilated remains of which are strewn across the floor or smeared over Lilia’s mouth.  “My darling boy, my precious son, how perfect you are at last.”

Silver trembles in his arms like a newborn fawn, and Lilia coos reassurances to him, helps his boy to his feet and steadies his legs as he leads him over to where their meal now lay in a crumpled and tangled heap. It is always cumbersome, the first feeding, and Lilia had no one to guide him through the carnal, mindless greed of his own— no such fate shall befall his son. He will share with him the abundance of milk and honey, lift it to his frozen lips where those new, budding fangs peek innocently above, and watch with boundless pride as new life, a near eternal life, is bestowed upon the one timeless treasure he has coveted in over six hundred stolen centuries. 

Later, they will bury the body together, sink the flesh deep within the garden where the others take their rest, a cluster of pearly white bones only disturbed by an odd set of larger, equine-shaped ones. Later still, when a young man approaches their home in the evening gloom to seek shelter on the long, arduous journey to his grandfather, Silver will greet him. He will smile enchantingly over his new high-necked shirt and take his hand, drawing him deep into the clutches of their wonderful little home, deep into the blessed darkness where his father waits. The table will stay barren, the bed unmade— there is no more need for pretense between the two of them. Not now, and not ever. 

Lilia can see it all. And with pleasure, he smiles. 

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfic #twst fic #twisted wonderland silver #twst silver #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #diasomnia #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt #happy belated halloween :) #everyone say thank you catriona for bringing my wild visions to life beyond anything i could possibly imagine <3 #lettie writes #art for lettie

[zipperzoo]

TOO SWEET (WHISKEY NEAT)

The Last of Us (2013 - 2024) Joel Miller x f!reader (one use of a gendered word) Word Count: 2.3k A03 Themes: Alcohol, Age Gap, Fluffy, Cute, Winter, First person, one-shot, SFW Summary: Inspired by Hozier's new banger, too sweet and those fantastic Joel miller edits to the song. I just got three things to say: God bless our troops, God bless The last of us and GENTLEMEN- START YOUR ENGINEEESSSS

Orange light of the Tipsy Bison was a welcoming one. After a long week of patrolling and harvesting, the whole town put together a game night. One that had been planned in advance and had plastered posters across every fence of the large commune. 

The blue hue of the evening helped illuminate the inside of the boisterous bar. A contrast of the warmth and the harsh cold outside drew people further inside. The heart of Jackson- makes sense for it to be a classic country tavern.

Despite that, outside stood a silhouette, one hunched over the railing that just nestled outside of the walkway.

Like a guard dog.

The large figure caught my eye while I laughed with the crowd I was with. The bustling of lively folks and chatter was soon washed out as I saw in the corner of my eye that shape.

He captured my full attention.

Turning my head slightly to see the man better. Leaning back to see past the person who sat beside me who was blocking the view.

Frowning to myself, I grabbed my drink from the bar. Nudging past the crowd to then open the glass door just ajar. Maybe it was my curiosity or the alcohol in me that brought out the sociable nature but I wanted to disturb that person’s peace.

Hit in the face with the frosted air, goosebumps run up my arms, it was an unsettling change from the warm and cozy heat from inside that still warmed my back. 

I winced slightly to then look up at the silhouette. Little light that was outside haloed his figure. Looking like an angelic painting. 

It was that poetic artistic appeal that struck me or the cold that was sobering me up. Either way, I wasn't going to argue against something that was visually appealing. Like a scene from a cinematic masterpiece.

Completely committing to the idea of going outside, I pushed myself outside and gently shut the door behind me. Zlip locking the chatter inside the building, locking it away to then have the peaceful quiet.

Wrapping one arm around me while one hand still held my ice hold drink, making my fingers go numb. 

I moved further outside with the goal to talk to this person, or at the very least check if they are okay.

The figure wore a tan coloured coat, with the orange glow from the windows it was hard to tell if it was heavy cotton or corduroy. His hair just fell over the collar. Long with gray streaks peaking through as it curled.

“Cold huh?” I mumbled just loud enough for the man in front of me to catch. In response he tensed his shoulders and stood up straight from his lean. He hadn't heard me close the door, let alone the disruption of the quiet that came with the bar door opening, but did hear me speak.

I was mistaken, this person did not act like a guard dog- more like a moose caught in the woods alone. Alert and easy to scare.

I felt like a rookie out hunting, seeing the slow and magnificent creature and I made the beginner mistake of walking up to it and my callout was the snap of a twig that started it.

He shifted slightly and turned his head halfway, seeing me. I saw his ragged appearance, and worn expression. 

It was Joel. 

Joel Miller.

Joel the quiet rough guy that mainly kept himself to himself besides his brother Tommy or the girl he looked after Ellie. It was hard to see this guy on his own, he was always with either of the two.

When he was on his own though, it very often was naturally uncomfortable. He just had that sort of atmosphere around him.

I remember very vividly when I went on a patrol with Joel. It was just to show me the general route, it was all new to me at the time. I just remember trying to strike up a conversation and he would shell up. Giving one sarcastic response or ignoring what I said. 

Kind of like meeting your friend’s dad for the first time. The same awkward silence and blunt statements of testing the waters to then bad jokes. Often repeating Ellie’s bad puns.

It would have been more pleasurable to rip my own fingernails.

“Hmm.” He hummed. 

I assume it was a response to my comment or to my presence. He moved back to his previous comfortable lean.

I slowly shuffled towards him rubbing my arm to then lean my arms down besides him onto the railing. Not too close to him but also not too far. Just enough space that my shudder of the cold couldn't be sensed- I hoped.

“Enjoying the party?” I nodded back towards the bar. Joel barely moved his head to face me, instead just side glanced to then hum again. Not uttering a word. 

It didn't seem like he wanted to talk. It is just like that patrol we went on.

I inhaled a sharp breath and asked “What’s your poison?” He took a sip, standing up straight and rolling his shoulders. Moving his upper body to then lean one arm on the railing to face me. 

“Whiskey.”

“Ah you do speak.” I teased, giving him a smile. In response he gave me a lopsided smile. “So… Whiskey and out in the cold.” He raised his eyebrows slightly expressing amusement in my comments, slowly warming up to my company but still very much keeping me distant with his blunt replies. “Just wanted some fresh air.” To that he leaned back forward, turning his attention away from me.

“Well the air sure is fresh.” I shivered slightly. “Why don’t you come back inside? I think Maria is about to start another round of card games.”

“I’m fine, you go back inside, you’ll catch a chill.”

“And you won't?”

“I’m wearing a coat.”

“You're old though.” 

A big smile grew on his worn face. “Old huh?”

“Don’t old people get cold.”

He rested his glass on the railing to then move to face me, standing up straight. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Enough.”

“Enough to bother an ‘old man’ who just wanted some fresh air.” He wrapped his fingers around his whiskey glass once again.

“Enough to give an old man who is possibly freezing to death some company.”

“I’m fine kid, I don't need company.”

He was far more chatty than usual, no thanks to the whiskey I bet. “Entertain me for a bit then?”

“Entertain you?” He chuckled, turning to face me, taking a sip of his drink.

His cheeks were slightly rosy, pepper kissed with a strawberry hue. There was do doubt about it. He was merry with his whiskey. 

“Yep, entertain me. I’m bored of the folks in there.”

He reached up his hand to scratch his jawline, turning to look out into the roads of Jackson once more. “I’m not one for company.”

“Oh but, Mr Miller, I’m in dire need of some company that only a miserable and tired old man such as yourself could fill.”

He let out another low chuckle at my dramatic act. “Think you're funny huh?”

“I’m the sweetest.”

With that, he rolled his head back to look at me. My goofy grin I didn't realize I had melted just as I took in his appearance. The way his long hair just swooped over his face, the scar on his nose. The harsh and deep wrinkles that suited his face better than I dared not imagine him without them. His hair was well groomed as was his beard, full and well trimmed. 

 “And I like my whiskey neat.” He muttered. Not paying attention to his words, The way his smile lines just made me feel slightly fuzzy inside made my mind run blank. “Hm? Come again?” He flashed his teeth as he looked away, smiling to himself. I'm guessing. Finding amusement or disbelief of my entire play by play of some sort of hazily morning day dream. “I’m agreeing with you- that you're sweet.”

“Aw, and here I thought that you were a lonely loner old man who had no idea about sweet things.”

“I do prefer bitter things.” 

“Like what? coffee?” “Exactly.”

“Doesn't hurt to have a splash of cream or maybe a little sprinkle of sugar,”

“You just won't take no as an answer wont you?”

“You're having fun aren't you though?” I nudged him playfully and at that he crackled a laugh, a drunken laugh. It was a little rough sounding but it was a pleasant sound. 

It made me feel at ease. I had completely forgotten I was freezing with the rush of adrenaline this entire conversation was giving me.

Completely strange now to recall how hard it was to talk to him, now it felt… Natural. Liquid courage was to thank for that. It softened up his hard edges, just enough he was approachable. I honestly didn't expect him to be like this, if this side of him was more well known across Jackson then he would be far more popular than Tommy. 

“Oh.” He cleared his throat to then shift his weight. “I’m having the time of my life.” his voice dripping with sarcasm. I could drink it up, that Texan accent with that sarcasm with a drunken smile on his face.

It could make me blush. Maybe I was blushing already, it was hard to tell with jack frost nipping at my cheeks and nose.

Raising my drink to my lips, but before I take a sip, I feel courageous. “So, cowboy, why are you here on your lonesome?” I take a sip of my drink, forgetting how strong and sweet my drink was, trying to withhold a reaction.

“As I said, I just wanted fresh air.”

“Outside ‘The Tipsy Bison’?”

I had the feeling he didn't want to argue or bite back anymore, as he just hummed in response then took another sip of his whiskey. 

“Humour me for a moment and could you do me a favour?” That caught his attention, looking at me, waiting for me to continue. “This is-” I pinch my nose bridge, slightly feeling the embarrassment rise up as the question ponders in my head. I sighed “Would you dance with me?” I murmured out finally.

He pushed himself from the railing, leaning one hand against it, holding all his weight. Raising one brow at me as he parted his lips. I guess I was kind of confused by my request.  

“Dance with you?” 

I was too nervous suddenly to respond, I just nodded. He smiled at me and shook his head, placing his glass down on the railing and standing in front of me, firm and steady with his cheeks flushed. 

He looked adorable. How can a man his age and of his terrifying nature be adorable. 

Holding his hand out towards me lazily, I took that as his answer. I couldn't help but have one big goofy childish grin on my face. It felt like a small win. 

Placing my ice cold fingers into his hand, he wrapped his warm ones round them. He flinched slightly- possibly at the realization at how cold I am. Rubbing his thumb over my fingers slowly warming them up.

The calluses of his fingertips were coarse, adding to his textured hands already with his rough and hard touch. It felt like I was brushing my hands over expensive but well worn leather.

“Alright, one dance,” he whispered. Leaning a little closer to me, I could smell the bitter whiskey on his breath. “Then you’ll best go back inside before you freeze to death.”

My expression softens up, I tug on his hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Promise.” “Atta girl.” 

He didn't wait a second longer for me to possibly change my mind, Joel moved to the centre of the wooden boards outside the bar. Hovering one hand over my waist, encouraging me to follow him centre. Hesitating to touch me anymore than he already was with my hand.

Letting him practically drag me along, I gripped one hand onto his shoulder as my hand he held dug my frosty tips into his. He must have found it uncomfortable because he let go of my hand to then intertwine our fingers just so it was easier to hold. A selfish part of me thought maybe to also warm my fingers up better.

Moving my overhand to rest on top of his shoulder, he then confidently finally placed his hand onto my waist.

Taking the lead, Joel began to sway, step by step. I followed like a good drunk dancing partner.

It was so strange. We were in our own little bubble. Inside the bar looked completely unbothered and unphased by us outside. No one had noticed that I even left.

Even if anyone had looked outside and saw us they probably would have written it off as two drunk and merry folk just enjoying the music inside, the strums of the pedal steel that just seeped through the walls.

It was the perfect disguise. I can’t speak for Joel, but I selfishly and unapologetically enjoyed this, in a way you think you are the main character. The way you feel sunlight for the first time after a long and dark winter. The way you think the world revolves around you when folks beam when they see you.

It felt like a moment in a romance novel that made you feel warm and cosy. 

This isn't love of course, this is just two drunk people enjoying one another's company. But I think to fall in love with this man if he allowed it would feel like the world stood still but also spun too fast for anything to make sense.

A privilege. One I’ll probably day dream about often and use this moment as a starting point. 

As I let my mind wonder it's intoxicated thoughts, I closed the gap between us and rested my head on his shoulder and hummed along to the tune that was faintly heard.

He joined in with his soft humming.

How sweet, a man who came across so bitter would be so sweet on just a bit of whiskey.

#Joel Miller x reader #Fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #Joel Miller fanfiction #I couldnt be bothered to proof read the ending so best of luck folks