#why should will's strength come from anywhere else

[zombie-boys]

hey guys so uhhh folks keep going back and forth between will being a baby or will being a bad*ss and i'm just so tired of it.......

like he is so much more nuanced than either one... (if you're going to read, please read the whole thing! thank you!!)

there are the baseline observations that will is quiet, sensitive, maybe a little shy; he's sweet and loyal and incredibly selfless; in addition, he's frequently a victim of terrible circumstances, with unfortunately little agency to fight for himself. none of these observations are objectively incorrect, even if they're just a fraction of the observations that can be made.

some fans flanderize how shy and sweet will is, framing him as a cute crybaby in need of protection (which is ironic, as will canonically hates when people treat him like that). to them he's a sad gay boy, a soft little angel with teary doe eyes; they attribute a stereotypical femininity to him, a helplessness, making him a fragile damsel in distress. these fans take the canon aspects of will's personality and warp them, not only making them larger than life but also romanticizing them.

an opposing interpretation of will seemingly came about in opposition to "baby will" - many fans were reasonably unhappy with this belittling take on him, and so highlighted other aspects of his personality.

great, right? it'd be nice for people to perceive will as a whole person as opposed to a list of stock traits... it'd be nice for people not to ignore character traits of his that don't align with their perception of his character...

but alas, these fans traded in "baby will" for "bad*ss will" - a take i don't like either.

"bad*ss will" comes in two varieties: bad*ss villain will and bad*ss hero will. the latter is better than the former, but not by much. both involve will being uncharacteristically violent and confident, standing up for himself in a way that often involves firearms.

before delving into either of these varieties i should point out that yes, will isn't just a sweet shy little boy. he's incredibly brave and incredibly resilient, able to survive the upside down for a week and stand up to the mind flayer - and yes, he canonically knows how to operate a gun. will is also shown to be stubborn at times; he's an annoying little brother, perfectly willing to point out how his siblings have no friends; he also does curse, even if that cursing is nothing compared to the constant swearing of his friends. will's a strong kid. i can't accept "baby will" because he simply isn't a baby.

...but does that make him a bad*ss?

some people really want will to stand up for himself in st5, to finally have agency, to fight back against everything that's harmed him; i completely understand that.

some people think that will should become the villain in st5, getting revenge on the people in his life who have demeaned him, neglected him, and bullied him. they think that will has been through so much that he'll snap, his kindness being broken down by pain. they want will to be a villain, a tortured soul with a traumatic backstory who deserves to give everyone the hell he got condemned to - they want him to be a bad*ss villain.

others think that will should become the hero in st5, getting revenge on the upside down for ruining hours life and the lives of his loved ones. they want to see him confidently wielding a gun against vecna, unfazed by the circumstances that would've caused him to run and hide in his younger years. they want will to rise up from adversity and stop being the victim - they want him to be a bad*ss hero.

what really bugs me about these interpretations is that they completely gloss over the aforementioned observations of will being gentle and cautious - even though they're true. saying that will is timid, that will is kind, or that will is scared is not the same as saying he's a baby - because being timid, kind, or scared doesn't make you weak. after all, there is no bravery without fear.

all of these bad*ss whatever wills are conjured up only after scouring off any trait picked up be "baby will" truthers, instead favoring vague notions of will's "sass" or the fact that he can operate a gun. they make will completely out-of-character all for the sake of a fantasy in which the victim miraculously becomes confident and powerful. yes, i want will to gain confidence, but nothing i've seen contributes any ideas about how that would happen - especially considering how in st4 will's self-esteem was as low as ever, tearing up when his best friend and brother say they care about him. if he's that surprised that they love him you can't seriously expect him to suddenly love himself.

not to mention how a lot of this "bad*ss will" stuff revolves around will using a gosh darn shotgun. the only thing being addressed is the fact that there is an association between will and the accursed weapon, and the fact that he has aimed it at an upside down monster before - while completely sidestepping the trauma the gun carries with it. will only learned how to use it because of lonnie's homophobic coercion, and only actually dared to use it when scared half out of his mind by an interdimensional stalker in his garden shed. in no world could will ever be slinging a gun casually, confidently, suavely - if he's going to be aiming the gun at vecna (which he would only do if completely necessary) he's going to be anything but calm while doing so. if you wanted that, you already have nancy gosh darn wheeler. (will does not need to be your girlboss.)

my point in saying this is that will is kind. he's stubborn. he's brave. he's hesitant. he's sarcastic. he's sweet. he's shy. and none of that is contradictory. will is a character, sure, but he's complex; if you dislike will's corners being rounded off so he can be called a baby, you have to understand why i dislike will's curves being sharpened so he can be called a bad*ss. i want will to triumph, of course i do, but i want it to be him triumphing. his whole self.

will was the victim. and he can be a hero. but he shouldn't need to be a different person too.

#stranger things #will byers #st5 #wise words from will #just for the record i'm not angry at anyone for drawing will with a gun #the potential of him reclaiming that symbol of stereotypical masculinity is something that can certainly be explored #and i'm not against him shooting vecna to be completely honest #i just think that because of the 'bad*ss will' idea forming in opposition to 'baby will' it's often done without much tact #without acknowledging how much he'd need to recover before he could gain even a fraction of the confidence people are ascribing to him #i don't really think will could ever be that confident. he could in no way be cool as a cucumber in this type of situation #even if he isn't actively afraid he could never be... posing hotly with a shotgun so mike can admire him?? idk it's not my fanart hhghhghh #y'know i'm just glad most 'bad*ss will' people want him to be a hero and not a villain #because people who think will would genuinely be a villain and would genuinely want to harm people drive me insane. i hate that so so much #if you think 'will should be the hero and he should shoot vecna' then i don't actually mind that much #it's when you start turning him into nancy 2.0 that it goes south for me #he can be a hero and he can have a gun but he will never be hot or a bad*ss or a girlboss while doing so #he will be shaking trembling crying saying to vecna 'i won't let you ruin anyone else's lives like your ruined mine! etc' before shooting #i want him to stand up for himself. but standing up for yourself does not mean you have to be fearless #shaking my head did we all just forget that el's strength comes from her emotion. from her love #why should will's strength come from anywhere else #he is sensitive!!! stop treating that like an antithesis to strength!!!!!! good grief #will byers shaky with the gun. i rest my case #also i hope you appreciate the dustin meme. i find it unreasonably funny

[luveline]

hiiii jade!!!! could i please request something with peter with reader who’s maybe put on some weight recently and is insecure about it?? (totally not self indulgent at all) i totally get it if you’re not comfortable writing that stuff though so no pressure

hi lovely! ty for requesting. fem, 1k

cw for negative weight talk/ weight gain

Everybody gains weight during the holidays, you think, tracing your figure in the mirror. Though it's not strictly holiday season yet, it's edging toward the end of the year. Maybe my new year's resolution should be losing a few pounds. 

There's a thunk of the bedroom window being yanked open and footsteps across the floor. You tense until your hear Peter panting for breath, likely having swung to you at high speed, or fresh from a fight with an usurped criminal. 

You rush back into your t-shirt, knowing exactly what path he'll walk. He barrels into the bathroom, sees you at the mirror and smiles so wide his cheeks look fit to burst. "Hey," he says, peeling the suit off and exposing his boxers to you without shame, "hey hey hey. Can I persuade you in with me?" He nods toward the shower. 

"Not this time, Pete." 

"Too bad," he laments. 

You look away as he strips out of his underwear. The shower turns on and he takes you by the hips to move you out of his way with a murmured apology, near lost to the drum of the spray. Peter has moments where he doesn't know his own strength, but the majority of the time he treats you like you're something precious. 

"Stay in here!" he demands as he pulls the curtain shut. 

"I'm not going anywhere." You close the toilet and sit on the lid. "Tough day protecting the people?" 

"Apart from tripping into a deceptively large pothole, it was fine. Why won't you come in here with me? I wanna rub your shoulders." 

"You want me to wash your hair." 

"Exactly. So get naked and get in here. Don't make me beg." 

You really don't want to, and you're not going to, but it's not a big problem. Peter doesn't truly mind, he just loves you. "What do you mean, deceptively big? Like, knee height? Higher?" 

"Mid thigh, I'd say. The people of New York are never gonna let me live it down. One guy was recording me and said he was gonna put it on YouTube for the ad money." 

"Anything else?" 

He gives you the rundown, describing what perps he faced and an older man he helped use an ATM machine. You hum distractedly, pinching at the fat where it spreads on your thigh, sitting down as you are. 

He sticks his face through the curtain gap, hair slicked to his cheeks. "What're you doing?" 

"You told me to stay, so I'm staying." 

He's nervous for a split second, glancing back into the shower as though there's an answer there waiting for him before angling himself toward you fully, his naked chest dripping and shining in the bathroom light. "Okay, fine, we need to talk about something. But I want you to know that you forced my hand here. Okay?" 

"Okay." You nibble the inside of your lip, used to his theatrics. "What have I done?" 

"It's not something you've done. It's something you are. I can't even say it. I," —he pulls the curtain in front of his face, moves it aside again– "just need to tell you. Lately it's like you don't even realise how beautiful you are and I'm tired of it. You're radiant. Like, glowing." 

Your recent internal debate must show on your face, that doubt, because he gives you a steadying smile. "Really, really beautiful," he says more seriously.

It's easy to smile at him. "Thank you, Pete." You scoop his suit off of the floor. "I'll go scrub the tetanus out of this in the kitchen sink." 

"Wait–" 

He can't just get out with suds in his hair, giving you the perfect escape plan. You have ten minutes to yourself filling the sink with soapy water and steeping the fabric before he's out of the bedroom in pyjamas, trousers tucked into his socks and hair damp from ferocious towel scrubbing. "You're such a– such a– thing," he decides. "I'm telling you you're beautiful and you walk off so you don't have to hear it? What's wrong with you?" His voice slips into a kinder register. "You do know you're pretty, right? I'm not just saying it to say it." 

"I'm just feeling icky," you confide. 

"About what?" 

You want to tell him, you find. "You know how I've gained weight?" 

He doesn't need any more explanation. Peter knows you've gained weight, you've mentioned it to him, and it's visual, and he can likely tell whenever he decides to flex his strength. "What, and you think that makes you less pretty?" He puts a damp hand behind your neck to bring you forward. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, a little." 

He kisses you. His nose bumps your nose, his lips crushed to your as he holds you in place. Despite this, it isn't an overly rough connection. It's definitely not shy. "You're beautiful," he says in the space between your lips. 

"It doesn't suit me–" 

"It does. It really fucking suits you. Have you seen yourself? You couldn't look better." 

"Even when I was thinner?" 

"You look just as perfect then as you did now." His intensity fades and he encourages you back enough to see your face, his thumb rubbing a short line into your neck. His brows are furrowed, dark eyes darker for it. "Weight isn't a factor." 

"No, but you have to say that." 

"I don't. Not really. I'm sure there are a thousand shitty guys who'd tell you something different, but I'm not– I love you, the whole you. I like you like this." He grins. "Which should be obvious." 

You tsk at him, to his delight, his laughter boyish as he buries his face in your neck with a hug, kissing a messy circle up and into the soft line of your jaw. You trap him there without thinking, chin hooked down, squirming as he blows hot air into your skin. 

"I've been putting it on too," he says. "It's happy weight." 

"It's not happy weight for you, Pete, it's just more muscle." 

"It makes you happy, doesn't it?" he jokes, smiling and kissing and hugging you all at once. "Just like it does on you for me."

#tasm peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker imagine #tasm peter parker x you #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm x reader #peter parker x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #peter parker oneshot #peter parker blurb #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #spiderman x you #spiderman fanfiction

[crezz-star]

Why Luffy is highly attached to Zoro and why Zoro is highly attached to Luffy, and why the straw hats is aware of this and accepts it.

(some rare rambles of Mine. This is based on my own character studies and observations. COPY PASTED FROM MY X [twitter] )

-------

👒

Firstly, we have to look at how Luffy grew up.

Luffy was given to Dadan by Garp, told her to take care of him. While Dadan introduced Luffy

to Ace and Ace at first was not very... Friendly. And I will not sugarcoat it, Ace did not care about Luffy as first and went through dangerous places that could have killed Luffy, and Ace again, shows how he did not care if that happened. Yet, just like with Shanks, Luffy was doing his best for Ace to accept him and let him join him.

It was always Luffy who was making an effort chasing after people he admires and began to care for, but was always getting denied.

And so being left alone.

Yes, Ace did accept him but not after Ace mentioned, along with Sabo that they should kill him first.

Luffy, being so young back then, and impressionable even, now have it engraved in his mind that if he isn't useful, he will never be accepted by anyone or anywhere.

And so, its become a fear in Luffy deep down, a fear he would push far back in his mind. But would reflect in his actions when he grows up and finds his crew. Luffy is afraid to be useless and abandoned by people he shows interest and care for. Which is why he gets possessive of what is his. That when anyone shows desire to leave, he gets upset and emotional and... angry. That he doesn't want anyone to leave, doesn't allow anyone to leave. And if they still do leave. It deals a blow to his emotional and mental state. He becomes irrational to the point that to bring the person back, he will let himself be walked on like a doormat.

That's where Zoro comes in.

Luffy first heard Zoro's name and immediately felt intrigued. And when he finally met Zoro, who was in obvious predicament, Luffy was hooked especially knowing that Zoro was a good person, and decided that ah. He wanted this man to be in his crew. So being the typical Luffy to do all he can to gain favor towards people he shows clear interest in, he tells Zoro, if I bring back your swords, you WILL join my crew. Because in his mind, if he's useful, people would accept him then! He was sure of it. Since that's how it was with him growing up.

Zoro would find this odd. Even calling Luffy the son of a demon because of how messed up his thinking is. But I think this would be the start of Zoro's observation of Luffy and how Luffy would need someone to correct him in his thinking and actions later on.

So Zoro joins Luffy not just because he freed him and gave his swords back, but because of the strength Luffy showed. One that Zoro acknowledged and respected.

Luffy gaining his first mate would then start to make Luffy be unconsciously more aware of how his crew acts and he would notice how Zoro, unlike everyone else in his life, got his back the most

Zoro chooses to follow him of his own accord. And this would get even more evident when: Nami, betrays Luffy and Zoro told him they should just let her be. Luffy insisted of course, but it shows Zoro's protectiveness of his captain. Sanji favoring Nami and making it almost seem that his reason of joining was her, (this was cleared up later in the crew barrel vows of course), still Zoro did not like him any better as he still thinks Sanji would most likely value women more than their captain.

Usopp leaving the crew and even challenging Luffy for a duel to be captain, which is a huge disrespect to Luffy. Yet Luffy was about to accept him with open arms again as if nothing happened. That's why Zoro stepped in to keep him in check.

This was one of the important moments

Luffy sees how Zoro really truly have his back. Zoro always returning to his side no matter how many times they got separated throughout their adventures. Zoro taking care of his crew, that of which Luffy all recruited himself (Zoro did not trust them all too easily), and now, + 

Zoro giving Luffy a hard life lesson to be a good captain.

Zoro really was looking out for him. So much. Sticking by him all these times no matter how many times his Life got put to danger.

That's why when Zoro mentioned if he fails as a captain, it will be him who will leave, Luffy would panic at the thought and was enough to make Luffy listen and stop desperately chasing after a crew who disrespected him.

Not Zoro. He doesn't want Zoro of all people to leave him.

So Luffy listens. Reflects. Learns how to be a better captain.

but I think one of the most important moment Luffy saw how Zoro will never leave him , like everyone else he cared for in his life did, was when Zoro made his vow to him in Baratie.

That's when he knew, Zoro will not betray him. Will never leave him. That's when he knew, he can trust Zoro with his life and his future crew. He knew Zoro would keep everyone safe.

Luffy felt like he doesn't have to chase after Zoro so terribly desperately the way he did with Shanks or Ace. For the first time in his life, someone CHOSE to stay by his side. Vowed to stay by his side.

It made Luffy happy. Glad. Acknowledged. For some it would seem like the vow was someone serving Luffy. But in Luffy's mind, Zoro made that vow, not because of a master and servant thing, it was because they would be partners, equals in chasing after their dreams. Someone Luffy can face the world with. Give and take.

And this is why Luffy is so attached to Zoro. Because he knows Zoro will never leave him. Zoro will never betray him like what the others did (even if they had their own reasons). Because Zoro chose to be by his side. To be his anchor. His voice of reason when he's washed over with irrational emotions. Why he listens to Zoro the most, becoming silent to listen close to every word that Zoro would say.

Zoro takes care of him and the crew and family Luffy had built.

Zoro stayed and choose to keep staying and returning to him, and because of this, because of Zoro, Luffy learned that he doesn't have to chase after anyone again. That if people wants to stay, they would. That if people wants to stay, they should be the one to ask Luffy. To tell him. To beg him. Because Zoro knows and sees that Luffy is a person worth following and being loyal to.

---

⚔

Now on to why Zoro is attached to Luffy.

I would be lying when I deny the idea of Zoro seeing some parts of Kuina's personality with Luffy.

Kuina did her best to get stronger and prove herself as a great swordsman despite being female, because Kuina believes that, just because she's female, she was weak. Unless she works hard, but still she still have such thoughts buried in the back of her mind. This is why she desperately pushes herself so much. To make people acknowledge her for her own skills and efforts, because she's afraid to be disregarded, left behind. To be not be taken seriously. To be useless.

Who else have this unspoken desperation to be acknowledged and fear of being useless?

Luffy.

Zoro most likely saw the similar personality traits, and seeing how Kuina is important to Zoro, how their shared dream is what pushes him forward, it may have helped him to somewhat lower his guard, even a bit slightly, towards this funny rubber boy.

Humoring him by joining his crew. And eventually, Zoro being able to see the strength Luffy has, and if there's anything that would gain Zoro's favor and respect? It's strength and heart.

Reason why despite seeing him as his enemy, Zoro respects Mihawk, and even the opponents he had hard time defeating.

And towards Luffy, Zoro sees that endless pool of potential And power.

Making him accept Luffy more and more, not just as his captain or the person he dedicates his loyalty to, but as his equal. Just like he did once with Kuina.

He saw her not just as his goal, but also as his equal.

Zoro's treatment and view of Luffy as a simple naïve pirate became something more and was solidified when he saw how Luffy truly valued his dreams at Baratie. How Luffy took it very seriously even knowing that Zoro might die. Zoro took that as full serious acknowledgement and felt that Luffy DID respect him. That Luffy was serious after all.

The way Luffy stopped Johnny and Yosaku from interfering in Zoro's fight Gained tons respect from Zoro. Because that dream of his, isn't just his. It was Kuina's too, and Zoro felt as if through that, Luffy respected Kuina's dream too, Why Zoro was thankful to Luffy. That's why Zoro began to follow Luffy. Because he knows, if anyone can help him accomplish his dream, a dream he shares with his old childhood friend, If anyone can help him reach his goal, it would be Luffy. His dream is safe with him.

Along the way, Zoro would also see how Luffy is reckless. That his kind - and at certain times naive - heart was also going to be his downfall, that's why Zoro keeps Luffy in check, at first Zoro was doing all of his caring for Luffy as means to reach his goal, but spending time with him and understanding him, Zoro saw something more about Luffy, saw his potential quality for greatness and Zoro wants to.. NEEDS to see it.

The way Luffy carries burdens of others and liberates them.

It's something Zoro finds not just as something respectful, but something he admires.

With Luffy by his side, everything and anything feels possible.

That's why as early on as Alabasta, Zoro had already developed a desire to make Luffy's dream, one of his own, his new dream. But still prefer to keep quiet about it when someone asks.

Zoro's attachment to Luffy started as something reminding him of a long passed friend, but as time passed, began to see and understand Luffy more, seeing him as a person/captain worth following, and as well as his most trusted best friend.

Which is why Zoro will do everything he can to help Luffy. Protect what's his and what he built. Help Luffy in reaching his goal, crowning him as king of the pirates, by making Luffy's dream part of his, and is also now his priority as well.

Now on to why the straw hats accepts this.

They all have their own mistakes and majority of the crew, Nami, Usopp, Sanji and Robin, all 'betrayed' Luffy. I say that with a quotation because they all had their reasons. I'm well aware they really didn't do it wholeheartedly and they were just.... In a certain predicament or internal turmoil

They know how Zoro would do everything he could to protect Luffy. How amongst all the older og crew, Zoro was the ONLY one who never even dared to betray Luffy at all. Not even having thoughts about it. That Zoro was EXTREMELY loyal and protective of their captain. Making Luffy favor Zoro the most even if he doesn't notice it himself.

They can see how Zoro and Luffy once at each other's side, can be immersed in their own little world. How when they fight, the silent looks they give one was enough for each other to know what they were planning.

The crew sees this and accepts this. Because deep inside, they have their own guilts. Except perhaps for Franky , Brook and Jinbei but those three are the mature types to already accept that what level of bond that Zoro and Luffy has, None of them can EVER have nor break.

Thus the whole strawhats understands this.

Understands that Zoro and Luffy is inseparable. Is attached at the hip and that's okay. Because they have their whole faith in them, as captain and vice captain. They trust them with their life. Especially with how Luffy gave them a home and Zoro protecting them.

How both Zoro and Luffy would agree to save them

Strawhats is their family and Zoro and Luffy are the protectors of the family

Luffy, the savior and liberator.

Zoro the guardian and protector 

#one piece #zolu #ゾロル #rambles #theres some good reactions about my character studies of them at X #would you dears like me to post my rambles here too? i will just copy paste it here though #since all of my rambles comes from the X account #if you dears also want to talk more about zoro x luffy or their individual characters #tell me! #send me asks about them too i dont mind! i would love that actually! #yeah! #Zolu studies

[chaotic-birds]

strong for you || j.pt

Jason comes home injured, prepared to patch up and rest with you, but he soon realizes something isn't right.

❤️‍🩹 Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

❤️‍🩹 Genres/AUs: Action, some angst & fluff, established relationship

❤️‍🩹 Warnings: Use of guns, mentions of killing, hostage situation, blood, injuries, reader referred to as girl

❤️‍🩹 Word Count: 2.3k

❤️‍🩹 Author's Note: Just felt like writing more Jason 🥰

masterlist

Jason uses the rest of his strength to lift open the window. His panting grows louder after he tumbles inside, feeling a bit safer in his home. He doesn’t have to worry about people hearing him in pain and taking advantage of his weakened state.

He knows you’ll be by his side in a matter of seconds. He hates how he came home injured since it always worries you, but he rather be hurt here than anywhere else.

His eyes shut tightly as he tries to calm down. It’s becoming harder to breathe under his helmet. He feels suffocated. He needs fresh air.

With a shaky hand, he begins to raise it to unlatch his helmet. However, an all too familiar click makes him halt; his eyes open wide and he forces his breathing to slow so he can hear better.

It’s then he realizes you should’ve been tending to him by now. You should be easing him out of his suit as you comfort and scold him simultaneously.

He lowers his arm as slowly as he can, worried whoever it is will act irrationally if he moves too quickly. Maybe if he was somewhere else and not injured, he would’ve leaped up and snatched the weapon from their hand.

But he can’t.

He’s home. He can’t put you in any more danger.

In slow motion, he turns his head to assess the scene.

There are five men in total. Each has a rifle in their hands, accompanied by a handgun on their hips. You’re seated on one of the dining table chairs that’s been moved, hands and feet tied together. You’re staring at him with big eyes—a mix of worry and panic.

Jason curses to himself mentally.

You’re already fearful of being held captive, but now you’re fearful of his wound too.

He already knows what questions are floating in your head: How deep is it? How much blood has he lost already? Are there any more injuries?

Jason hates that he was stupid tonight. He hates how out of all the nights to have fucked up, he fucked up tonight. But that doesn’t stop his determination. He’ll power through the pain if it means you’ll be safe in the end.

You turn your head to the man on your right. He holds himself to a different status than the others. The amount of confidence this man must have makes Jason want to gag.

“I’ll give you the files if you let me tend to his wounds,” you bargain.

Macho Boss smirks down at you before moving his sight to Jason.

“Well, you’re surely an unexpected guest. Didn’t think one of the bats would come to rescue a mere civilian when there are bigger crimes out on the streets,” he observes, then glances at you. “I guess this one’s special, huh?”

Jason suspects that this guy thought he could get away with his act since he’s not committing a big crime, compared to others in Gotham. Illegal activities happen all the time here, right? Jason almost snorts at his bad luck. 

Macho Boss nudges your shoulder with the barrel of his gun. The cold metal touches your bare skin exposed by your cardigan, making you shiver. It must’ve fallen in your scuffle earlier.

Jason narrows his eyes at him even though his glare is hidden by his helmet. He’s grateful he etched a permanent scowl on it now. He wants your captors to know that despite being injured, he’s still got enough strength to incapacitate them.

“Please,” you grab the captor’s attention again. “Let me help him.”

“Why should I let you? His injury means he’s weak. I can’t let him stop us, now can I?” he questions, slightly mockingly.

“You can tie him up after I’m done.”

“Like hell you will,” Jason gruffs and the other person holding a gun to his head jabs him with it.

You send him a glare—signaling it isn’t the time to be snarky. Jason rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything more.

“Do you want the files?” you ask Macho Boss.

“You’re going to give us them whether we let you play nurse or not.”

“Perhaps, but you’re wasting time. Why take the hard way when I’m offering to give them up so easily?”

The man hums in thought. Finally, he nods at the man to your left.

Within seconds, your ropes have been cut. You gesture to the bathroom.

“First aid is in there,” you inform and carefully make your way to the room.

One of the men follows you, gun pointed to your head. You expect nothing less.

If they weren’t here, you’d be rushing to the kit, but any sudden movements will get them trigger-happy.

Your movements are slow as you retrieve the first aid along with a wet washcloth. You make your way to kneel beside Jason. Blood continues to seep through his fingertips, creating a pool of red beneath him. You fight back the worry consuming you.

You gently guide his hand from the wound so you can begin cleaning it.

Jason watches you for a second before shifting his gaze to the others. They’re staring at you both, weapons aimed. They seem impatient and ready to fire.

“You should be making a run for it,” Jason says to you lowly. Though it doesn’t matter the volume of his voice, it’s so quiet that everyone will hear him regardless.

“And get shot in the back? No thanks,” you argue, setting the bloodied rag to the side to start patching him up.

Jason wants to reply he wouldn’t let that happen. He’d have his hands on his guns, shooting everyone before you could get hurt. But he doesn’t want them to know how much he cares about you. Perhaps that’s a fruitless wish since they’ve probably already gauged their affection from their body language.

Jason grunts when you touch a certain area. He’s been trying to keep his cool—for the sake of seeming stronger than he appears to his captors, and for the sake of your sanity.

Your eyes move to his helmet, and there’s a silent “sorry” in your expression. He can tell you’re trying to appear strong, too.

All Jason wants to do is fill these guys’ heads with lead, then snuggle you in bed.

As you continue attending to his wound, he asses his options. He could quickly shield you with his body while he took out the men, but even then, he wouldn’t be able to move and risk the potential of you getting shot. The thought about tossing you out of the window since there’s a fire escape there is strong—get you out of harm’s way so he doesn’t have to worry about you in the crossfire.

Jason’s thoughts get interrupted when you lean in. He watches quietly as you kiss his helmet softly. His lips twitch in an immediate response, but then he feels something slip into his palm.

Clever girl.

With one hand, he slips the small knife you gave him up his sleeve; with the other, he caresses your back. He hopes his action distracts the men from the quick exchange.

You pull away carefully as Macho Boss grits out, “Touching. You done now?”

“Yes,” you reply.

The second the word leaves your lips, a pair of hands are pulling you from Jason roughly.

Jason quickly begins to stand but a heavy boot stomps on his fresh wound, forcing him down again. He breathes in a sharp inhale at the impact, head tilting back and fists clenching.

“Red!” you gasp, struggling against your captor’s hold. More so for his health and safety than yours.

“Relax, love,” Macho Boss coos, but it’s nothing close to soothing. “You can’t expect us to trust your buddy here.”

Then, he turns to the person who’s pinning him down. “Tie him up.”

“You better be treating me to dinner after,” Jason huffs.

Suddenly, Jason’s hauled up and shoved into a nearby chair. His arms get pulled back, forcing a grunt out of him because of his injury. His feet are then secured.

“What a charmer,” Macho Boss scoffs. “Now, the files.”

Your gaze lingers on Jason to make sure he’ll be okay before walking to your bedroom where your laptop is.

“Put me in that room,” Jason demands as he watches you leave.

“Not a chance. You can sit pretty with me right here,” the man behind him says.

Jason clenches his fists as you disappear from view. There are only three of them in the room now. Two went with you.

Easy.

Jason shimmies the blade low enough to reach the rope around his wrists. He waits a few minutes for everyone’s focus to dim before beginning to slice at the material.

“So what’s Red Hood doing in some rando’s apartment, hm?” Capture Two says.

Jason shrugs, subtly cutting the rope as he speaks, “Would you believe me if I said I have a magical power that lets me sense trouble? Because wow… My inner crime detector was blaring.”

Captor Two huffs in annoyance. “Yeah right. You probably got cameras set up around here.”

Jason catches on to the man’s agenda: Find the location of the cameras so they can take them out next time. 

“There’s even one over there,” Jason says with a nod to the left. 

“There is?” the guy questions and turns. 

The second he does, Jason breaks through the rope and disarms and knocks out the man behind him. Gunfire erupts and Jason quickly takes cover in the kitchen nearby. 

“Fucking liar,” Captor Two growls. 

Jason laughs. “Sorry, man. Let me make it up to you.”

Jason peeps around the cabinets and aims with proficient precision. Two down, one to go. 

Upon hearing the scuffling in the living room, you quickly retrieve the gun that’s taped under the desk. For once, you’re grateful for Jason hiding guns around the apartment.

Before you can second guess your actions, you shoot Macho Boss in the kneecap before ducking and shooting the second man in the same place. Once they’re both down, you take away their guns in case they try anything on the ground.

Jason rushes into the room hearing the gunshots, both pistols raised. He pauses in his trek when he sees you—seemingly unharmed—standing between the two men on the ground.

The men are groaning, blood soaking the carpet he vacuumed yesterday.

“Next time come when the carpet is already dirty,” he says before slamming the heel of his gun onto his head—knocking him out. He walks to the second guy and does the same. It’s tough for him to do so since he really just wants to shoot them instead, but he told Bruce he’d attempt his no-killing rule. It’s day four, and he already feels like giving up.

“Nice teamwork,” you comment and place the guns on the desk.

Jason stuffs his pistols in his holsters before he unlatches his helmet. He tosses the item on the bed, then pulls you close until his mouth captures yours in a heated kiss.

You yelp in surprise into his mouth. Jason smiles at the sound and squeezes your body tightly against his armored one.

When you pull back, you’re looking at him with a silly smile.

“Don’t tell me all this is what gets you hot and bothered?” you tease, fingertips gliding down his chest gradually.

Jason grins and pecks your lips with a proud grin. “Can’t help it. You’re sexy when you’re in action.”

You laugh, pushing at his chest until he’s loosening his grip reluctantly. “You’re sexy too.”

Jason can’t resist but lean in again, although this kiss is shorter.

“You okay?” he asks, mood turning serious. He holds you at arm’s length to examine your body.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me. Are you okay?”

“Nothing but a flesh wound,” he beams.

You shake your head and glance around the untidy room.

“Can you call Dick or someone to clean this up while we go to a safe house?” you plead, too lazy to help with the cleanup. You just want to sleep with Jason next to you.

“We don’t need him. I’ll take care of it,” Jason informs and bends to pick up one of the men.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself more, Jay,” you sigh, words meaningless as he throws the second body over his shoulder like a sack of rice.

“I’ll be fine, babe. Give me ten then we can cuddle. I know that’s what you want.” He smiles knowingly.

You roll your eyes playfully at his light tone. He isn’t wrong, but you wish he wouldn’t exert all his energy now when he’s injured.

But this is Jason.

Stubborn ass.

Jason takes two trips to carry the men out. You rest your elbows on the window seal, watching him drag the unconscious men in a small circle with their backs to each other. He takes a chain and secures it tightly around them. You think he’s done but he pulls out a paper. You squint, leaning a little out the window.

Sprawled in black ink is:

BAD GUYS FOR PICK UP

Jason steps back to admire his work, then turns to look at you. Although you can’t see his expression due to his helmet, the two thumbs up he gives you indicate there's a smile adorning his handsome features beneath.

Chuckling, you shake your head playfully and return the thumbs up before nodding to come back inside.

Your gaze follows the tall man as he struts back toward the building. You tuck yourself inside, shutting and locking the window as you stare at the silly paper with his handwriting.

He wouldn’t be your Jason if he wasn’t mischievous. After all, it’s one of his many talents.

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

#jason todd #jason todd angst #jason todd fanfic #jason todd action #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you

[bloodywankers]

Trigger Warning! Yandere! Implied Non-Con! Forced Marriage! Forced Cultural Assimilation! Power Imbalance! Royalty AU!

Yandere Blue Lock | Yandere Michael Kaiser | 5.4k words | unedited

Michael Kaiser was arrogant, and surpassed all reason with his gall. As if it had not been your people who had fed and clothed his own when their ship sank near the coast of your island.

Provided them with shelter and welcomed them with open arms when they had nowhere to go in the vast ocean.

Whether it was gold or medicine, you wasted no expense to extend your generous hand towards them, ensuring your guests stayed comfortably while within the confines of your island.

Their culture was strange to you who had grown up in a matriarchy, surrounded by warriors and women admirable in both strength and intelligence. In fact, it was the opposite of your own. Men were the ones who held most of the power in their country, no wonder they looked so flabbergasted when there were no other men on the island beside themselves, surrounded by well built women tanned under the scorching sun, beyond anything they were used to as they had said many times.

They weren’t as bad as many stories told, they shared whatever was spared from the ocean on their ship, blankets, food that you had never come across and strange trinkets you still couldn’t fully understand.

Kaiser was strange even when you first met him, commanding those around him so naturally unlike you who was egalitarian in the making. Treating everyone with equal consideration and respect. Conceit lining his every action, as if he looked down on all those that surrounded him.

Had it not been for them not having anywhere else to go, you wouldn’t have let them near your people, especially not when it was evident he looked down on you.

“Your ‘country’ is run solely by women?” He seemed almost indignant when presented with this information. Despite this, you still bid them farewell with a smile on your face and nothing but prayers of good fortune for the journey that lies ahead of them.

So imagine your surprise when you receive a letter, a threat, the familiar arrogance dripping from each sentence written in the paper. ‘Surrender or else.’ That was basically what he was saying, that bastard. Acting as if your people hadn’t done all they did for his own.

But yours was a country of warriors, you’d fight them even if it cost your lives.

Or so you had thought, but the enemy never came. Instead, your numbers fell from within, one after another, all those around you fell ill, weakened until they could barely stand. You had barely managed to contain the infection when he came, that coward.

“You don’t seem to be doing very well.” He taunted, grinning from ear to ear as he looked down on you.

“A country run by women… isolated from the world. I was wondering for how long that’d work out for you.” He said as he walked circling around you, as a hyena would to its prey. He spared a few glances towards your surroundings, examining the sickly state many, including you were in. A rather cruel idea came to mind as he looked into your eyes, that defiance, sheer hatred that lined them, he wondered if he could crush it, like taming a wild animal in a sense.

“You’ll all die at this rate, why not come with me? The old geezer’s been pestering me lately to get married and I think you'd do nicely [name]. What do you say?” Even as he suggested something as serious as marriage, he had a certain playfulness in his tone, as if he was just mocking you, waiting for you to say yes just to laugh in your face.

“Even at a time like this you seem to spare no opportunity to mock us.” You spat back at him, not having braced yourself for the bruising hold on your jaw he now had.

“I’m sorry, I think I should rephrase that, I made it sound like I almost gave you a choice.” And with that, he released your aching jaw and walked out, you could overhear him ordering one of the men that came with him and while you didn't understand their language, you could assume it had something to do with you.

….

While most of the girls were against it, they understood you had no choice unless they were willing to face off against those strange men in their current condition. So it was decided, in exchange for treatment and protection from other invaders with similar intentions to Kaiser’s, you’d go with him. It felt dehumanising, to be traded like livestock but you didn’t want to think of what would happen had you opposed the idea as vehemently as you planned to.

Instead you focused on what to do once you reached his home country, it was a long journey, turns out that his men had settled on the just a few days on boat away from your island. His true home country, the one you learnt he would rule over was much further, a climate noticeably colder and duller than what you were used to.

“I expect you to be on your best behaviour once we get there, we wouldn’t want them to think you’re an uneducated savage, would we?” You despised how he spoke to you, slower, in a simpler way and overwhelmingly patronising, as one would to a child.

“I’m aware.” You replied.

He made you learn his country's language during the journey, so while he read government papers and complex books, he forced you to read children’s books out loud. Laughing at how you’d pronounce certain words, chuckle as you tried your best to differentiate between one sound and another and ensure you were thoroughly embarrassed before explaining anything you didn't understand.

He let you wear your own clothes at least, but even this, he assured, was only until you reached land, until he could have a tailor skilled enough to make something befitting of his future wife.

You couldn’t help but curse him under your breath every single day, pray he’d come down with sickness or fall overboard, pray he’d die, a slow painful death. But even this had to be done in secrecy, not because of how ill you wished him but because he forbade anything that held any semblance to your culture.

It was foolish to think he’d lose interest once you returned to his homeland, surrounded by enough women and shiny things to forget about you, men were fickle, or so the older women always told you. But not Kaiser to your dismay, instead he seemed even more invested in finding ways to make your life more difficult, from dance instructors to history and politics. Each day felt daunting as you missed your small island home, wanting for nothing more than to return to your home and your true family.

With what little you spoke of their language you could tell you weren’t the most welcome of guests, the maids’ glances towards you weren’t exactly overflowing in kindness and the older men that visited Kaiser seemed equally troubled by your presence.

“Who would dare say anything to my kaiserin.” There it was, the new nickname he had picked for you among a myriad of others, some more insulting than others. Not that Kaiser cared, he seemed to pay no mind to what you thought. Instead he seemed to be much more focused on your untouched plate.

“You’re not eating. I can’t have you looking like a corpse at our wedding, darling.” You just continued to stare down at your plate, its contents didn’t seem fit to be called food to you, not with how tasteless they were, even prisoners ate better in your homeland. You furrowed your brows as you took a bite, trying to chew as little as possible as to not taste any of it.

“I’m sure you’ve been taught better table manners than that, dear.” You didn’t like the way he looked at you, it’s as if he was looking at something lesser than him, lesser than human in his eyes.

“The food…I don’t like how it tastes.” You muttered under your breath in what little German you spoke.

“I suppose it’ll take time to develop an appreciation for high class food, I understand, especially after you’ve been eating garbage most of your life. No wonder you were so weak back then.” He never seemed to miss a chance to insult your culture. You were sure whatever garbage you had eaten before was much more filling than these scraps.

…

You had always enjoyed running around freely in the past, taking in the beauty of nature, but here, it would be rare to find any nature at all among the concrete jungle. And whatever little greenery there was was hidden by the accursed weather. Dull and gloomy, much like the country itself.

And god forbid your handmaidens let you out without hiding you among layers over layers of fabric, weighing you down just enough to make sure you would tire yourself out to not suggest going out for another few days.

But even that seems like a privilege to you now as you look out the large window in your room. He had come to visit earlier, drunk— clearly as seen from the pink in his cheeks and the unmistakable stench of alcohol coming from him.

“You’ll look so nice in a wedding dress, my precious kaiserin. I can’t wait to see you in white.” He said as he got closer than you’d have allowed, draping his arms around you as he sunk into the crook of your neck. You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose as he took in your scent. For an emperor as great as he claimed he was, he seemed to act a bit too depraved.

That’s when he went for it, tried to remove your dress. Your heartbeat racing as a mix of anxiety and dread overflowed from your thoughts as they clouded your judgement. In the midst of the moment, you shoved him away, ending in him being pushed onto your bed while you were now on the floor.

“What…?” He seemed angry, really, really angry. You didn't want to know what he would do so you just spewed whatever came to mind in hopes of something convincing enough to at least reduce whatever punishment he would give you now.

“The… The wedding! You have to wait. We should only do this after marriage. That’s what the priest said, we cannot do this unless we’re husband and wife!” You exclaimed as Kaiser simply looked at you, now having regained his composure.

You hoped this would buy you some time, at least enough to think of a way out without endangering the lives of your people. Your wedding was still a few months away, this would be enough time to do whatever was necessary.

Or so you had thought.

“Your highness, we cannot allow you to go out like this! Please understand, we’re under strict orders from the emperor. You must focus on your bridal studies. The tailor will also be coming today with the finalised dress.” The maid said, or rather pleased, she didn’t look any more pleased with the current arrangements as you were. That bastard, he moved your wedding from a few months to just weeks away after that. No wonder he had been so quiet lately. Everyone had begged that he rethink it but he paid them no mind, simply ordering that they prepare everything by the end of the month, sending everyone inside and outside the palace into a frenzy.

He didn’t forget to reprimand you for pushing him away either, forbidding anyone from allowing you outside the walls unless he himself allows it himself. Leaving you confined to your room most of the time, preparing for your wedding. Your stomach dropped at the mere thought of it.

…

Despite what he made you think, Kaiser was just as busy with wedding preparations as you were. Only the most grand event would be worthy of him and his precious wife. You used to be so aggressive when you first came, refusing to speak the language, firing insults at him every time he spoke. He found it adorable how you stuttered this time around. He did have to punish you for pushing him away, that was unacceptable, but the way you tried to reason with him, that desperate look in your eyes made him want to devour you right then and there.

It was rewarding to see the fruit of his labour.

It brought a smile to his face just to think about you.

“Have you heard? Apparently the empress is so beautiful that the emperor keeps her in a separate palace, he doesn’t allow any male servants near her so they aren’t seduced by your beauty.” A younger man, probably the son of a noble, seeing as how ignorant he was, said. The other men around him simply added more fuel to the fire as they continued to gossip amongst themselves.

The male couldn’t help but let out a dry chuckle. Would they have said the same thing had they seen you as you were back in your little island? Ragged and sickly, so ready to jump anyone that came too close to you as a string of curse words left your mouth. So unladylike, he was sure they wouldn’t.

None of them would have seen your potential like you did, he was the one who polished you into the gem that you were today so it’s only right he’s the only one to enjoy the benefits of it.

He’ll have to make sure you don’t have to interact with these scum too much during the wedding, Kaiser thought as he held himself back from ripping their tongues out right then and there, there were better, quieter ways to deal with people like that. No point in causing a commotion, especially when your wedding was so close, when you would finally have to resign yourself to your fate, sealed in his hands and his alone.

“Your highness please keep your arms up so that the tailor can fit the dress.” One of the maids said as a few others rustled around you, trying to fit the dress on you, ensure that it was safely fastened so as to avoid any accidents during your actual wedding.

“I hope you don't mind me intruding on your fitting session, my precious kaiserin.” Kaiser said as he invited himself in, his eyes set on you and the dress that just made you all the more alluring. Jewels that were worn by women of his family for centuries before this splayed all around the room as the maids tried to agree on the most fitting one and a dress made by the most prestigious tailor in the continent, all to represent his country, the mother of his nation.

…

The servants had all long gone now, leaving you alone with Kaiser. They giggled amongst themselves as they left, you had heard many talk about the lovely relationship between you two, oh how you wished to deny it all.

“You didn’t have to come.” You said, still insistent on avoiding eye contact with Kaiser.

“I can’t help but notice darling, you never seem to say my name. We’re to be wed soon, wouldn’t it be better for you to refer to your husband-to-be by his name?” You couldn’t understand why he seemed so intent in closing the distance between you two, as if to keep you from running off— not that there were any places where you could seek shelter from him and his overbearing presence.

Discomfort was evident in you as you tried to pry him away. It’d be hard to believe that you were the same person capable of taking out his men with relative ease. Kaiser, however, paid it no mind, instead leaning in closer as he took a hold of your chin, barely any distance left between you two, your breath hitching as you tried your best to divert the topic on to anything else.

“Come now, how hard can it be to say Michael, you’ve pronounced harder words darling, this should be easy for you.” He said leaning in even more. His lips practically on yours at this point, your efforts to pull away being left in vain as you hit the back of the sofa you were on.

“Michael, I said it, now please stop this!” You pleaded, but it would be difficult to reason with him now. Something about the way you said his name just felt so attractive to him. Maybe it was your accent, despite your best attempts, it was still hard to conceal it.

“Say it again.”

“W..what?” He looked like he was in a trance, no sign of his usual shit eating grin, a blank expression on his face as he stared back into your eyes, waiting for the words to leave your mouth.

“Michael.” You knitted your brows as your cheeks went red from embarrassment. It felt strange, demeaning almost. As if he were watching a child say its first words.

“Again.” Was he serious? You thought to yourself.

…

Hate Kaiser as you will, at the moment, he was the only one that could allow you to go out so in some messed up way, you had started to look forward to his visits. And with only a few days until your wedding, you couldn’t help but grow anxious so as insufferable as he was, at least you could enjoy a breath of fresh air, away from the stuffy palace in his presence.

You couldn’t help but take in the scenery, the same that seemed so lacking compared to your homeland just a few months ago

“That dress you wore earlier today suits you well, darling.” He said, eyes still focused on the freshly bloomed flowers.

“I’m sure it did, seeing how they had to practically starve me so that I could fit in it.” Your German had improved a lot lately, you could even use complex sentences now, not as insistent on using your mother tongue as you used to be, it brought him pride every time he heard you speak it.

“Stuffing your face like an uncivilised beast would be unbecoming of a lady of your standing regardless of whether there is a dress to fit into or not, my dear.“ Some part of you was convinced he did this so you wouldn’t have the energy to escape.

“I wasn’t aware basic human needs had become uncivilised in your glorious empire.”

“You’ve been behaving well lately, it’s in your best interest to keep that up, darling.” It had been ages since you last acted up, Kaiser had thought he had crushed your rebellious spirit by now. He could forgive this, maybe it was just you getting antsy because of your wedding.

…

You’d received many congratulatory gifts before your wedding, most from people you had never before met. Foreign emissaries, nobles and others, all filled with congratulations and well wishes but you spared them no attention, instead focusing on the letter sent to you by your friends and family back home, your real home. During the time it took for the letter to get to you it was already quite dated but you still read it over and over again, written in your home tongue and filled with words of encouragement. Details you feared you had forgotten, people who you couldn’t picture in your head anymore but longed for each passing day. Kaiser didn’t allow letters most of the time, especially not when they were written in your home tongue, a reminder of your unruly past as he saw it.

This one was a wedding gift, a final goodbye to your friends and family before you became someone even you couldn’t recognize.

You read it over and over again. Tears formed in your eyes as you realised just how much you had forgotten, turning into a sobbing mess before you even realised.

“Had I known this is how you’d act, I'd have thought twice before giving you that letter.” There he was again, so eager to interrupt any thoughts of your home.

“I- I’m sorry.” You managed to say between sobs, trying to compose yourself before he said anything else, carefully tucking the letter away into your study drawer.

“May I write back to them?” You asked, practically pleaded considering the pathetic state you were in.

“We’ve talked about this before, dear. You know I dislike repeating myself.”

“Only once please—! I won’t ask again, Michael please just this once—!”

He seemed displeased with your request but instead of saying anything, he merely got up and approached your desk. However, to your surprise, he simply walked past you, instead kneeling in front of your drawers, taking the letter out and before you could react, he ripped it to shreds, right in front of you. Not even sparing the remains, opting to throw them into the lit fireplace, making sure they were burnt to a crisp before facing you again.

He took out a piece of paper from his pocket, leaving it on the desk.

“W-what’s this?” It was hard to talk to him after what he had just done, you wanted nothing more than to curse him.

“A list of names I’ve narrowed down, choose the one you like most by tonight, otherwise I’ll choose the one I like most.” He said nonchalantly.

“Names…? Why would you need me to choose a name?”

He merely looked at you disdained.

“You’ve not been baptised yet, I can’t be marrying a heretic, dear.”

“Is it really necessary to change my name though?”

He slammed his hand on your desk.

“You were behaving so well up until yesterday, so you seemed to have forgotten under whose jurisdiction that beloved island of yours is, my dear.” And with that, he stole a small kiss from your lips and left.

None of the names on the list felt pleasant to your tongue, they all sounded so foreign so Kaiser ended up choosing for you, he seemed happy to do so anyway. Things moved fast from there, in under a week so much had happened. Everyone around you seemed so overjoyed, everyone except you who was intent on ignoring your reality. Repeating over and over again the words you had read in that letter as a desperate attempt to remember your homeland. With even your name now replaced, nothing besides fickle memories was left but even those seemed to fade so fast.

…

Time moved fast when you were trying to hold on to it, hours turned into mere seconds. It became hard to grasp something so intangible as you walked down an aisle surrounded by strangers, in a building equally as unfamiliar.

Ironically, the only thing that wasn’t foreign was Kaiser, the man that had dragged you out so far across the map in the first place.

As the priest had you decide words you couldn’t fully comprehend and as hundreds of eyes peered onto you, you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. Seeking what little comfort there was in them.

“All hail his highness the kaiser and kaiserin. May god bless their reign!” The man exclaimed as a string of cheers echoed through the large chapel, flower petals gently falling as the light from the stained glass windows of all colours seeped through.

Your breath hitching all of a sudden as you felt Kaiser’s hand on your waist.

“Nothing will save you today my darling bride.” He whispered into your ear with his usual devilish grin, his eyes still facing the guests.

You dreaded what was to come, his mere presence brought shivers to your spine. How were you supposed to spend the rest of your life with a man like that?

In the large ballroom, one after another, the guests greeted you, paying respects, asking if you remember them and their wedding gifs, each trying to outdo the last. But even in all the commotion, with the music drowning the room in even more noise, even then, your mind could only dread what awaited you once the music stopped and you were guided away.

…

You could feel it, his heartbeat. The constant thumping, mechanical like a clockwork in a sense. It wasn’t as erratic as yours, fast paced yes but you were sure the wine he downed earlier had something to do with that.

Reflexively moving away as he tried to inch closer, only to be met with a bruising grip, one fully intent on keeping you in place.

“Not today, my kaiserin, no. Today, I’ll enjoy all you have to offer and so will you. All you have to do is be good.” He said, barely audible as he looked at you with something between drunken stupor and sheer lust. Burying his head in the crook of your neck, taking a moment to breathe in your scent before his teeth sink in, you let out a hiss, trying your best to push him away or to at least have him stop but to no avail.

He took your home, your name—identity and that night, he took your body as well, leaving you with nothing at all.

He took all you had to offer and in turn left you with child, his child.

You only found out months later, as the sickness seemed to become too much to excuse as just a cold or upset stomach. As your dresses became increasingly difficult to fit into. And as if to add insult to injury, the physician thought it to be more important to inform Kaiser before he did you.

As if it wasn’t you who would carry this child for months to come.

“You’re the mother of my empire and now of my child as well, my kaiserin. You’ve brought me nothing but joy.” He said as he brought you into an embrace as the physician left.

But while Kaiser spewed affirmations of love and joy, you couldn’t help but feel guilty. Not when the first thought in your mind had been to compare his—your child to a parasite, like its father it would take and take from you.

Even beasts loved their kin, what a monster you had become to think that of your own child.

“Ahh.” You couldn’t help but wail. You didn’t want to bring such a child into the world, what a cruel mother you were. Uncontrollable sobs echoed through the room as you tried to cover your face, block out the man whose head up until mere moments ago laid on your lap, now looking at you with an unfamiliar expression of surprise. But it was quick to contort into something more akin to hurt and anger.

“…Why are you crying?” He whispered, the lack of his usual confidence and playfulness putting you off. His hands now firmly holding your face in place, leaving your tear stricken face with no choice but to face his.

“My first thought when I heard of the child…” You paused as more tears streamed down your face.

“I wished it’d die!” You exclaimed. “H-How can someone like me be a mother?”

“What have I become? What have you turned me into?!” You broke down once again, unable to see the sheer disgust in Kaiser’s expression, not until he forced your face up again.

“You’re carrying my child, the heir to my empire. You’d best act like it, my dear.” He scared you at times like these, when the familiar playfully hint in his eyes got replaced with a cruel look, one you would give your enemy, or someone you saw as less than human.

There was only one thing you hated more than that, it was when he acted like nothing happened the day after.

As he embraced you and his child, a smile wider than any you had seen before, acting as if you hadn't said what you did. As if you didn’t wilt away every day before your son's birth. He looked like him, like Kaiser. The same eyes, same hair, even his face held more semblance to him than you.

…

You sat in the shade, sheltered from the pathetic rays of sun if they could even be called that. Tea and other snacks set on the small table in front of you. Looking out the garden to see three young boys running around.

They laughed and chased after one and another, wooden swords and whatever the garden could provide turned into toys.

“I’m the emperor so I get to take all your land!” The eldest proclaimed.

“That’s not fair, you were emperor last time! This is my land, you can take Wilhelm land instead!” The youngest retorted, pointing towards his older brother.

“No! That’s not fair, you’re both cheating! Mother, tell them to stop, it’s my turn to be the hero!” Your second son, Wilhelm said, insisting you tell the other two off for cheating.

An airy buckle leaving your lips as you looked at the small boys, little, all three of them holding little if any resemblance to you.

“You two all got your turns, let’s let Wilhelm be emperor today, hmm?” The boys both let out a whine before they resumed their game, still equally as loud as before.

It was hard to face your children at times when you were reminded of when you first found out about your pregnancy. But you’ve learnt to bury those memories now. Between official duties and your children, there was little time for such thoughts in your day. Perhaps that was why you had forgotten all else.

You used to have a home but you remembered nothing of it, not what it looked like nor where you lived, maybe, if you tried really hard, you could recall its name.

There used to be people in your life before Kaiser but now, even if they were in front of you you doubted you would recognize them. It’s hard to hold onto memories when they’re so fleeting regardless of how hard you try. Not when even recalling them is an offence worth punishing in your husband’s eyes.

“Father!” Speak of the devil. The children screamed in unison, running towards Kaiser who had already opened his arms, welcoming them all for a hug.

They looked so innocent, unaware of the true nature of their father. Of course they would be when he stopped you from teaching them a single word in your home tongue, to utter a single word of your past would not be easily forgiven.

“My, if it isn’t my little princes.” He said between chuckles as the children tried to tackle him to the ground.

“Where’s your mother?”

“Mother is over there!” The youngest said, pointing his finger towards you. Kaiser giving you his classic grin. Taking the two youngest boys by the hand as he walked towards you.

As they walked side by side it was easier than ever to tell how much they resemble their father. Everything, from how they looked to even their names was foreign to you.

A chaste kiss on the cheek waking you from your trance as you looked behind you to find your husband and children, all smiling and laughing amongst themselves,

“What were you thinking to be so deep in thought?” He asked, receiving a simple ‘Nothing much.’ As a reply, interrupted by one of the children who seemed eager to jump on your lap and reach for sweets from the small table.

You doubt you’ll ever come to accept this life as your own, you’ll forever look into the mirror and try to recognize the stranger that you had become. But there was no home to return now, Kaiser had made sure of that, tearing it apart piece by piece, no people left on what was once your entire world, not when they all left for better opportunities to neighbouring countries. Nor did you have any pride, not when he tore it apart bit by bit.

Now you could only hope to be content, to one day entirely forget what you had known. To forget the pain of forgetting and to truly live in the present. Even if it’s with the man responsible for putting you through such pain.

Masterlist

#yandere #yandere character #yandere x reader #yandere blog #dark fic #yandere male #yandere scenario #yandere blue lock #blue lock #yandere blue lock x you #yandere kaiser #michael kaiser #yandere michael kaiser #michael kaiser x you

[ozzgin]

I love your work! It is so hard to find good Baki writers. Could you please do a Yujiro x Female fighter reader. I feel like Yujiro would actually start falling head over heels with a reader who fights well and is as sadistic as him.

Thank you! And yes, realistically speaking - or at least what makes most sense in my opinion - Yuujirou would go for someone that not only is submissive to him (because any human would then suffice), but also shows impressive skill and strength. There’s an interesting idea that I once read in the introduction of “The Gates of Janus”, the book written by serial killer Ian Brady. The foreword author argued that Ian is what you’d call a rat king, an alpha above most alphas, and that for such personalities, most of the time, an equally dominant woman is sought for as a partner. Naturally she’d submit to him still, but only a woman of high dominance could keep up with this kind of intense character. This mentality felt a bit outdated and potentially misogynistic to me, but I think it really fits in the case of Yuujirou. Sorry for the ramble.

Yandere! Yuujirou Hanma x Fighter! Reader

Featuring The Ogre and a female reader that nearly matches him in strength and ruthlessness. TW: Dubious consent, violence.

[Baki Masterlist]

Yuujirou can have anyone in the world, whether man or woman. It’s not up to them, really. It’s up to his mood and whims. And when he can have just about anyone, actually finding someone worth his interest becomes a difficult task. He doesn’t need an extra weight to drag around and as far as he’s concerned, commitment is not something he requires in his life. What would be the point?

No, for someone of his status, commitment doesn’t come as moral etiquette or requirement for a relationship. He has considered it, and in theory it could only be offered out of his genuine interest and never demanded by someone else. For The Ogre himself to fixate on one person and never wander eyes anywhere else… They would really have to impress him. Guarantee him that this is a one time deal never to be found again. And once that person is found, they’d do well to perform their role as his partner because there is no way out of it.

Lamentably, such temptation has never crossed his path. That is until a feminine figure strides into the ring of the Underground Arena. Yuujirou is ready to burst with laughter, but he’s quickly silenced by the rather abrupt end of the match. The mysterious character remains unfazed by the opponent’s blow and uses the opportunity to swiftly twist and crush the offensive limb. With the same indifference plastered on the face throughout the agonizing wails of the much larger man, she delivers her ending move and within seconds the arena is quiet again. After recollecting himself from this unexpected succession, Yuujirou turns to Strydum that’s been watching with similar amazement. “Who the hell is that?” He grunts. “I don’t know. Should I find out?”

Sometimes Yuujirou will replay the encounter in his head. He still gets shivers of raw excitement whenever he remembers your eyes back then. That utterly defiant glare. Strydum had asked you to meet them in private and as you entered the room, you immediately demanded to know why you’d been summoned. The Colonel begun fumbling in terror, almost begging you indirectly to not upset the redheaded man. “M-Mr. Hanma wished to see you, Miss (Y/N)-“ he was interrupted by your resounding snarl. “And who the fuck is Mr. Hanma to afford such audacity?” At that moment Yuujirou stood up, hands in pockets but visibly tensed up. You instinctively clenched your fists and frowned at the unspoken difference in power. The Ogre was halfway expecting you to fold and apologize, but after a minute your expression relaxed and your confidence returned. “Bitch. You’d rather die than give up your pride, huh?” He smirked at the thought. There was something about your attitude that greatly pissed him off but also turned him on at the same time.

The hardest part is getting you to accept him as your partner. See, Yuujirou will never beg or ask nicely. On the other hand, he’d rather not kill you, and severely damaging you in any way would take away the fun that caught his attention in the first place. That’s the dilemma: you’re stubborn and he can’t use force. Then again it’s not like he’s a mindless brute. Quite the opposite, only if he feels like it. A little charm with a dash of intimidation and you should be convinced, right? Don’t push it, (Y/N). If he really has to choose, he’d rather have you dead than belonging to someone else. It’s either him or nothing.

Really, it’s to your advantage if you learn to behave. He can give you everything you desire. He’s rather experienced in spoiling his women, and for you he’ll go the extra mile. Knowing he tamed you of all people is all the payment he could ever ask for. The satisfaction of putting you in your place, of having you cling to him fills him with greedy pride. A cocky smile distorts his features whenever the realization hits. If there’s such a thing as a soulmate, he’s found his. Although he doesn’t believe in that kind of bullshit.

A frightening pair in the eyes of most people. The Ogre relishes in the fact that displaying you as his woman has further increased his reputation instead of signaling any trace of weakness. As the time passes his conviction only strengthens: there’s no other place for you. You’re all his. Yet his favorite detail, what makes him flushed and dazed and addicted, is that no matter what he does to you as you lay there sprawled, naked, broken, your dignity never leaves. That prideful gaze that leers back at him makes him feel like he’s facing a mirror.

#baki #baki the grappler #baki hanma #baki headcanons #yandere #yandere baki #baki x reader #yujiro hanma #yujiro hanma x reader #yuujirou hanma #hanma yujiro #yandere x reader

[heavyhitterheaux]

Got Me Thinking

Part 5: From Paris With Love (Slight NSFW)

Synopsis: After spending time with Jack, the two of you end up in an argument, which leads to you not wanting to speak to him. He then surprises you with a trip to Paris, but is the love that you have for one another enough to survive the whirlwind of events that come after?

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Series Masterlist 💕

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The conversation with Neelam that you had earlier was distracting you from focusing on you actually being able to spend time with Jack since the two of you would have to go weeks at a time without seeing one another.

Those facetime calls didn't cut it all the time.

Waiting until the crowd died down after the show, Jack volunteered to walk you out to your car but made sure to wear a hoodie in order to cover his curly hair in the hopes that no one would notice him. Jack knew that you could read him like a book, but reading you was a completely different ballgame and at times could be difficult for him. He could tell that something was on your mind and quickly got to the point to ask you about it.

“What's on your mind Buttercup?” He asked while starting to play with the ends of your hair.

“Hmm just thinking how much I'm going to miss you after I leave and how bad I want to kiss you, but we’re out in the open and there's too many eyes.”

All Jack did was look at you because he knew you were lying through your teeth.

“Hmm, that's definitely a lie. That might be partially true, but there's something else more to it. I'll let it slide for now, but don't think I'm going to forget.”

When you were silent, he quickly spoke again.

“I want you to stay with me tonight. My hotel isn't far from here. That way I feel that I can give you my undivided attention without us being interrupted.”

“Uhh? Isn't your wife here with you?” You asked, looking at him dumbfounded.

“That's why I booked two rooms. Yours is on a completely different floor so the two of you won't cross paths. And you weren't concerned when you had my dick in your mouth in my dressing room earlier knowing that she was here.”

“Isn't she going to notice you aren't next to her during the night? And you obviously didn't have a problem either since your face was between my thighs.” You shot back and all he did was smirk at you.

“Nope. And even if she does, I'll make up an excuse. So what do you say? And my favorite place to be is in-between your thighs.”

All you could do was roll your eyes and laugh.

“I didn't even bring any of my clothes and this is not going to be comfortable to sleep in.”

“Babe, what we're going to be doing doesn't involve clothes so that should be the least of your worries.”

“JACKMAN!”

“What!? What'd I say?!”

“Meaning in the morning, I'm not leaving in the same outfit I came in.”

“I have everything that you need already in your hotel room and all you have to do is bring yourself. Your husband can do without having you at home for one night.”

“He’s not even at home.”

“See? Even better. I just want to love up on my girl and give her the attention that she deserves. I have the key with me and was going to let you leave first so we don’t run the risk of anyone seeing you.”

“Looks like I’ll see you soon then.” You replied while smirking as he slipped you the hotel key.

“I shouldn’t be too much longer, and I’m going to wait until she falls asleep. And usually when she’s out, she’s out because she needs all her strength the next morning to stress me the fuck out.” Jack muttered, but you couldn’t help but to laugh.

“I’m serious, I don’t know if a switch finally went off in my brain but overall she’s not a nice person and not a good person. She is literally the definition of what you would call a mean girl.”

“You just finally realized that you deserved better and that definitely isn’t with her.”

“But enough about that. I just can’t wait to have you whimpering my name underneath me.”

—

Once you had gotten to the hotel and parked your car in the parking lot that was on the side of the building, you made your way to the room that Jack set aside for you and when you opened the door, the first thing you did was kick off your shoes.

He hadn’t just gotten you a simple hotel room, but an entire suite and your jaw was on the floor looking around it in awe.

You immediately grabbed your phone and sent him a text letting him know that you were there.

You- Now, Jackson…. An entire suite for just one night? You didn’t need to do all this.

Jack Jack- Yes I did because I want you to be comfortable. My baby girl deserves the best and who's to say that we’re only going to be there for one night?

All you did was laugh to yourself once you finished reading his text and went to explore the other parts of the suite.

Before you knew it, you had dozed off on the couch with the television on simply for background noise waiting for Jack and was woken up by him placing kisses all over your face before reaching the final destination of your lips.

“Hmm? What time is it?” You asked him while looking around for your phone.

“It’s around two, I’m sorry I didn’t think it would take this long.”

“No need to apologize, I got to go to sleep for a little bit so I don’t mind.”

“Mmm hmm, because you’re going to need it. If you aren’t too tired for me, I’m going to need for you to lose these clothes.” He said while helping you stand up and reaching underneath your skirt as he met your lips with yours.

“That can be arranged, but only if you take them off me.” You whispered against his lips when you broke the kiss and all he did was nod.

Jack was now holding onto your hips and eased his way in as he entered you from behind and you were leaning down against the pillow and biting down on your lip hard as you tried your best in order to keep quiet.

You had lost count of how many different positions that he had you in and just knew that he didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon and it wouldn’t surprise you if it started to get light outside either.

As you were whimpering and quietly moaning his name as he pounded into you, all he did was smirk before leaning down to place kisses all along your spine and whisper in your ear.

“My baby is taking me so well, are you going to cum for me?”

You couldn’t form an answer with words and simply nodded.

“Damn, this dick so good it got you speechless?” Jack spoke again and laughed and you couldn’t help but to roll your eyes.

Feeling him pull out, you were left confused until you felt his tongue run against your folds as he started eating you out from the back.

“Oh fuck, babe.”

“Stay still, why are you moving away from me?” He asked before going back to his task of making you come undone in front of him.

A few minutes later, you felt him stop once more and he quickly heard your protests before he slid underneath you so that you were now sitting on his face and he wrapped his arms around your thighs in order to keep you in place.

“Be patient because I have all night.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you felt him start to suck on your clit which led to you moaning his name.

You were now laying your head on Jack’s chest as he was drawing shapes on your back and the two of you were in a comfortable silence. You felt yourself dozing off to sleep when you suddenly heard his voice.

“Buttercup?”

“Yes, babe?” You sleepily answered with your eyes still closed.

“I have a question.”

“Go ahead and ask me then.”

“Why don’t you just file for divorce now? You told me that the baby has been born so what is even left for you in that marriage?”

“I just want to make sure that I do it the right way by making sure everything is in place before I do.”

“Babe, money is not an issue because you know I’m going to get you anything that you need or anything that you want. I just don’t like seeing you upset about him all the time. You know that you deserve better so I don’t have to tell you that, but…”

“Money definitely isn’t an issue. I just don’t want anything to happen that would make him want to retaliate against me.”

“Retaliate against you for what? He has a side chick and a baby, so why would he even do that?”

“That’s just how he is, and that’s why he’s such a good businessman. Sadly to say, he’s cut throat and doesn’t show any mercy and I know for a fact it’s to the point where he won’t hesitate to make me miserable. I was never on the receiving end of that, but I feel like once I file for divorce I will be.”

“Baby, all the more reason to get the fuck away from him so we can be together like we want to be. Why do I feel like you’re hesitating? Isn’t this what we talked about and isn’t this what we want? For you to finally move back to Louisville and live with me?”

“I’m not hesitating.”

“Yes you are and you keep giving me excuses. You’re a damn CRNA for fucks sake but moving back you will definitely have a pay cut but right now, you can afford the lawyer and all the fees, but I will pay for you to divorce that asshole, so what excuse are you going to give me now?”

Your eyes were now open as you sat up and looked at him.

“Why are you rushing me?”

“Buttercup, I’m not by any means rushing you. I just don’t want to see you upset all the time about what he’s doing to you.”

“Why are we only talking about me in this situation? You’re asking me what the hold up is on my end, but what is the hold up on yours? You have an entire wife that you need to divorce too, do you not?”

“I do and it’s going to happen, but unlike you I’m not making excuses and hesitating. I’m ready to file for divorce and get away from her, but I’m also waiting on you so hopefully they can be finalized at the same time. I made her sign a prenup, well, Neelam made her sign one so she isn’t getting a damn thing from me. How could you still love someone like that who has fucked you over a countless number of times? He literally got another woman pregnant.”

“And I don’t know that? How many times are you going to remind me? I already feel stupid about still loving someone like that and this conversation isn’t making it any better.”

“I want to be all in with you, but we can’t do that unless some changes are made. I want for you to experience this life with me. This is literally what we talked about when we were seventeen. There is NOTHING left for you and him. If we would have stayed together, I know for a damn fact that we would have been married by now.”

“But would we? You would have probably had to hide me once Gen Now signed you to push that single narrative.”

“What the? Where is that coming from? The first thing that I would have wanted to do was fucking protect you because this life I live isn’t easy and the last thing I would want is you getting hurt by it. Y/N, why can’t you see how much I STILL love you?”

“I… need to leave.”

“What?! It’s six in the morning and you’ve hardly gotten any sleep. I don’t want you driving anywhere and we’re not done talking about this. Why are you running from me? What are you scared of? You know that I’m going to love and protect you and treat you how you deserve to be treated. If anything, I’m the one who should be mad at you because it honestly feels like you’re making it seem like I’m a second choice to Xavier when I for damn sure treat you better than he does.”

“That is NOT fucking fair and you KNOW it. What was I supposed to do? Wait for you? It's not like I intended on him doing that to me!”

“YES!”

“So now I’m being guilt tripped into falling in love with someone else? You had every single opportunity to reach out to me if you really wanted us to be together, but you didn’t. So, why the fuck did you get married in the first place?”

“How was I supposed to know that I would get a second chance? Or at least I’m trying to get a second chance with you, but you are making it so got damn difficult.”

“Then let me help make this easier for you since I’m so difficult. I’m leaving and don’t even bother fucking calling me again.”

“Baby, baby wait. Hold on, just please. Let’s back up for a second.” He pleaded with you as you got up and made your way into the bathroom, but he beat you to it and ended up blocking the doorway. You simply crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him.

“Jackman Thomas, get the fuck out of my way.”

“I’m not losing you for a second time!”

“Too late, because you already did.”

Once you had left the suite, Jack then took the long walk back to his room with Kelsey and was praying that she wasn’t awake quite yet. But once he opened the door, he silently cursed to himself because she was wide awake and looking at him.

“Where were you?” She asked without bothering to say good morning to him.

“I went for a walk, I wasn’t gone long.”

“Hmm, I need to ask you something.”

“Can it wait?”

“No, it can't wait. Who is Y/N to you?”

Now, he wasn’t quite sure what the two of you were anymore.

“I told you that we knew each other in high school, so what’s the big deal?” He asked before sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Well, I don’t like her and I don’t want you around her anymore.”

Jack whipped his head around to stare at her in disbelief.

“And who the hell are you to think that you can tell me who I can have around me? And how do you not like her when you don’t know her?”

“I’m your wife and she makes me uncomfortable and you should respect that.”

“She literally didn’t even do anything.”

“Were the two of you just friends in high school or more?”

“Why are you so pressed about this?”

“Answer my damn question.”

“I’m not answering shit until you lose that attitude. It’s like you just wake up and decide how the hell can I get on Jack’s nerves today?”

“You get on my last nerve, do you know how lucky you are to have me as your wife? Other men would jump at the opportunity to have me if I was single.”

“Then go ahead and be single, no one’s fucking stopping you. And I’m lucky? Explain that because I’m not quite understanding.”

“I just want to know what she is to you.”

“She’s my friend and she’s my ex-girlfriend. Are you happy now?”

“WAIT, your ex-girlfriend?!”

“Did I stutter? Now, I’m going to sleep if you don’t mind because I’m still tired.”

“We aren’t done with this!”

“Yes we are because I answered your question and since any man would be lucky to have you, go out and find them and stop bothering me.”

“Well she needs to get the message that you’re my husband and not hers.”

“Hmm, am I?”

“What the hell is wrong with you this morning? You act like I went out and cheated on you.”

“Kelsey, let’s not go there because you did and I took your ass back despite you doing that. But you best believe that if I had known on our wedding day what you had done, we would not be married right now. Truth be told, I should have left your ass at the altar if I knew.”

“I… I apologized about that and I regret it. Why are you still holding it against me?”

“Seriously? You literally cheated on me hours before we said our vows so you can save it.”

It had been over a month since you last talked to Jack and you had simply been going through the motions. You were upset how the two of you ended things, but still felt as if he was rushing you. You had been back to Louisville a few times since you were slowly moving things out of your house that you wanted to take with you and of course, Xavier hadn't noticed anything. Which you weren’t the least bit surprised by.

Urban had been calling you

Clay had been calling you

Neelam had been calling you

And you told each of them the same thing, for right now, you and him were done.

Jack called you nonstop for the first two weeks and then his calls just stopped altogether right along with the texts as well. Thinking about the situation, both of you could have handled the conversation differently and it didn’t have to end with you leaving. But as of right now, you were in a weird headspace. In order to not think too deeply about your feelings about the entire situation, you drowned yourself into working and uploading content to your TikTok that was centered around nursing and working as a CRNA.

Your best friend Taina who you also worked with could tell that something was bothering you and without a second thought you said yes to her asking you out for brunch one day that the two of you had off. You met in nursing school and also went on to get your CRNA certification together and she had been your rock through the entire mess that had been going down with Xavier. However, she didn’t know too much about you and Jack reuniting and after seeing your instagram post a while back, she made note to ask you about it but never did. So she figured now was her opportunity.

The two of you were sitting across from one another and you were sipping on your orange juice as she was eyeing you.

“Y/N….”

“Yes?”

“What has been going on because you haven’t been yourself lately. I get everything with Xavier, and I offered to cut his balls off and feed them to him, but you declined. However, I feel that it’s something else.”

“Hmm, been sleeping with my ex-boyfriend since March.” You casually told her as you were scanning the menu and trying to decide what you were going to eat.

“Hold on, back up. Which ex-boyfriend?” Tania asked because there had been a few of them when the two of you were in college.

“The one I was with when I was in Louisville.” You answered and suddenly her eyes went wide with a realization.

“Hmm, would his name happen to be Jack?”

“Not so loud!” You exclaimed as you shushed her, but all she did was smirk.

“Okay… so? How’s that going? When can I meet him?”

“Well we got into an argument and we haven’t talked to each other in about a month.”

“What? Why?”

“Long story short, both of us are supposed to get divorced and then be together, but it turned into an argument because he said he felt like I was hesitating even though he also has an entire wife.”

“But, let’s be real. What are you waiting for exactly?” Tania asked and all you did was look at her because it seemed like now you didn’t have an answer.

“Y/N, from what you’ve told me over the years about him, he is head over heels in love with you and he wants to be with you so kick Xavier’s ass to the curb and be with someone who you know is going to love you and treat you how you’re supposed to be treated.”

“You’re right, I just don’t know. I’ve gotten comfortable in this life as stupid as that may sound. I know I deserve better, but I cannot open my heart again because I’m scared. What if we break up and we truly end up hating each other? He truly does mean the world to me and I would never in a million years want to hurt him.”

“You say that, but however, the way you two left off with each other made me think that you did hurt him and hurt his feelings. Not saying that he didn’t do the same thing to you, but just talk it out with him. I’m sure he wants to hear from you. He is not Xavier and never will be.”

“I don’t know, he stopped calling me after the first two weeks when I didn’t answer and hasn’t called since.”

“Then you call him and see if he wants to talk. Y/N, the people around you want so much better for you and I’m sad that Xavier has you so brainwashed that you can’t see it.”

“There’s something else….” You started to say as you looked down and started to play with your bracelet.

“What is it?”

“I miss my period and think I might be pregnant.”

“I…. Y/N! When we leave here, the first thing you are going to do is call that man! And I want an update after you do.”

It had been a total of two hours that you had been staring at your phone contemplating on if you were going to pick it up and call Jack.

But once again you were scared. Scared that he was going to reject you and not want to have anything to do with you anymore. But, you knew that you had to try.

You decided to facetime him and it rang for a while before he finally answered.

When you saw him, your breath hitched in your throat and your heart was now beating a mile a minute as you were the first to speak.

“Hi.” Was all you said and you couldn’t quite read his expression.

“Did you need something?” He asked and skipped over the greeting entirely.

“I… just want to talk. I didn’t like how it ended the last time we saw each other.”

“I consistently tried to call you and talk to you for fourteen days, so why do you want to talk now?”

“Because I was mad at you. You were right… about some things and I just wasn’t quite ready to hear it.”

It was quiet for a few seconds as Jack was simply looking at you and you saw Clay walk behind him.

“Look, meet me on the tarmac at LAX around 7 tomorrow morning.” Jack finally spoke up and you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Wait, what?”

“A car will come and pick you up. Pack a few casual outfits, but other than that I got it handled. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Um, okay.”

Without another word the two of you hung up and you simply sat there unsure about what just happened. He seemed annoyed with you which you could understand, but obviously he still wants this just as bad as you do because he answered the phone. You sat there for a few more minutes before you hopped up to run into your walk-in closet to drag out your suitcase.

The next morning, you were now pulling up to the private jet in the car that Jack had sent for you and the butterflies you had been feeling the entire ride on the way here, had now been doubled. He obviously wanted to see you, because why else would he tell you to meet him here? The driver opened the door for you and helped you out of the car as your suitcase was loaded onto the plane. The first one to pop up and greet you was Neelam who quickly went in for a hug.

“I’m so happy you came. He definitely needs a little pick me up. He’s already on the plane so come on.” She said as she squeezed your hand and started to lead you to the steps of the jet, but you stopped walking and she turned back to look at you confused.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

Your eyes simply started to water before giving her an answer, but she saw them and quickly reassured you.

“He’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. Don’t worry about what may have happened before, just move forward.

You nodded your head towards her as she went up the steps first as you followed behind her. Once the two of you were on the jet, she went straight to Urban and hit him across the back of his head because he had apparently been eating her fries which you laughed at.

Your eyes were searching for him and saw that he was simply in the back by himself gazing out the window and you started to make your way towards him. Once you reached him, he seemed to be deep in thought and didn’t notice you standing next to him until you ran your hand through his curls. Startled, he looked up at you before standing up and placing you in a giant bear hug.

“I’m sorry.” He quietly said as his head rested on top of yours.

“I am too.” You whispered as you held onto him tighter.

Once the two of you broke apart, he leaned down to place several kisses on your lips which you gladly accepted and that instantly put a smile on your face.

All you heard was whistling and turned around to see Clay and Urban smirking at both of you as Neelam was trying to eat the rest of her fries before Urban got to them.

“It’s about time the lovebirds reunited.”

Everyone got settled and it was soon time for takeoff. You and Jack were cuddled up with each other in the back with him stealing kisses every few minutes and everyone else was scattered throughout the plane.

“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” You finally asked when the plane had been in the air for a few hours at this point.

“Give me another kiss and I might tell you.”

All you did was shake your head at him before smirking and pulling his face towards yours to grant his wish.

“Okay, so now tell me.”

“You’re coming to Fashion Week with me.”

“Okay?”

“In Paris.” He added on and knew that your facial expression was about to be priceless.

Your eyes then went as big as saucers as you looked at him and all he did was laugh.

“And I got Givenchy to make you a dress that was specially made just for you. We’re getting there a day early just in case adjustments need to be made.”

“Babe…”

“I mean it when I said that I would do anything for you. I just want you to know that.”

You nodded your head at him to acknowledge what he said and he held you tighter as you laid your head on his chest.

“I have to tell you something.” You said as you glanced up at him and he nodded.

“I…. may or may not be pregnant. I missed my period, but I haven’t gotten a chance to take a test yet.” You whispered and all he did was lean down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“Whatever comes our way, we’re going to get through it together.”

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, neelamthadhani, cozane, givenchy, claybornharlow, quiiso, and 415,271 others

anesthesiabae: Paris is always a good idea. Thank you givenchy 💖

jackharlow: 😍😍😍 neelamthadhani: DAMN, if you weren't married and if I was into girls 👀👀 claybornharlow: OH, my good sis ATE! jackharlow: that dress was made for you, LITERALLY tainathecrna: you look so beautiful! my gorgeous girl! urbanwyatt: neelamthadhani I think you might have to fight a couple people to get next to her first neelamthadhani: urbanwyatt all I have to do is distract you with weed, clay with chic-fil-a and jack with a cigar. I'll make it happen.

It was now day three of you being in Paris with Jack and the two of you were on the balcony of your hotel room sitting in a comfortable silence when you finally broke it.

“Are we ever going to talk about that conversation and what was said?” You asked him as you looked at him and he took a deep sigh before nodding.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel as if I was rushing you, that is literally the last thing I want. But, I also need to be honest about my feelings, if neither of us were married, we literally would have gone to Vegas in March and eloped.” Jack honestly said and you couldn’t help but to laugh. 

“At the end of the day, I just want you to be happy. Aren’t you happy when you’re with me?” He asked you as you started to play with his Private Garden ring. 

“Y/N, look at me.” Jack told you as he placed his finger underneath your chin to guide it upwards.

“Jack I….”

“No, you don't have anywhere to be right now, especially anywhere that he is. You are right where you need to be and that’s here with me. Why do you keep running back to him when we both know he's not any good for you? It should have always been the two of us.”

“It's not that simple.”

“But it is that simple, baby and we’ve been through this. I know you’re scared, but it’s going to be okay. I’m not him and will never be. Look me in my eyes and tell me right now that you don't have feelings for me and I promise to never bother you again after this trip is over.”

All you did was stay silent as you were trying to regulate your breathing with him being so incredibly close to you. Your heart was beating a mile a minute as he moved a curl out of your face. Your thoughts were running rampant remembering all those times when your body was under Jack’s and for the first time in many years, you felt that someone actually loved and cared for you.

But you've always felt that way when you were around him.

Jack chuckled to himself when you couldn’t answer him and simply placed a soft kiss on your lips which you eagerly returned. You had your back towards the street and was hoping that no one had seen the two of you. 

“It sure is telling when I fly you out all over the world to experience this life with me when he can't even remember your fucking favorite color or your Starbucks order. Not to mention how you told me last night that you hadn't been fucked that good in years and you only feel that way towards me. Leave him so I can give you the life you deserved. The life that we talked about when we were in high school. Baby, let me take care of you the way I promised you that I would.”

You sat there as you listened to him and knew that he was good at keeping promises and keeping his word. So, what did you have to lose?

This is what you wanted and what you deserved.

“You've gotten so comfortable in being mistreated by him and that ends right now. So, are you going to give me an answer? Because you know you won't want for anything.”

“When I file for divorce, he's going to want half.”

“Let him have it. I have more than enough to take care of you.”

“So, we're really doing this?” You whispered as you placed your arms around him to hug him tighter.

“We’re doing this.” He answered while leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“Hmm, the only question now is how your gold digging wife is going to take it.”

“She’ll get over it. She already knows that we dated because she was asking me about you and she kept nagging and of course she got an upset look on her face afterwards. But enough about that. When we both get back home, we’re filing for divorce.”

“And I can’t wait to be with you all the time.” You said as you looked up at him.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you stopped him, figuring that paparazzi were still out and about since it was Fashion Week.

“Babe, let’s go in the suite and off the balcony. We can’t risk anyone seeing us.”

“It’s fine, baby. No one is out here and it’s three in the morning. Just kiss me.”

You woke up in Jack’s arms because you heard your phone repeatedly going off in your ear and quickly heard his protests.

“Baby, turn it off.” You heard him say as he squeezed you tighter.

“I am, give me a minute!” You responded by laughing, but once you saw the numerous notifications your heart dropped.

Jack Harlow seen in Paris at Fashion Week making out with a mysterious woman who is NOT his wife Kelsey!

Your heart rate suddenly increased and you felt like it was getting harder to breathe. Jack noticed that you hadn’t laid back down yet and simply sat up to ask you what was wrong. 

“Baby?”

All you did was shove your phone towards him and he quietly uttered ‘fuck’ under his breath.

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow smut #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow imagines #jackman thomas harlow #jackman harlow

[romanreignsbae]

I hate you…not. - R.R

thanks for the request bae! 💗

SMUT❗️

disclaimers: unprotected p in v, dirty talk, praise kink, morning sex, overstim, rough sex…18+

A/N: Loved this request and idk why but this took me 2 days to write, let me know if you guys want some fluff too! I feel like so far all i’ve written in smut. and i acc used Roman as a name this time, in all my other fics i used Joe. let me know what you guys prefer, i want some insight on what other people see/want when it comes to my writing! 💗

The air was thick with anticipation as Y/n and Roman, two rivals in the WWE world and people who couldn’t stand each other even away from the ring, found themselves in an unexpected situation . It was a Sunday in May, and the night before, a night of drink after drink, had led them to this moment.

They had always kept their distance, their mutual hatred simmering just below the surface. But now, in the cold light of day, a new understanding would dawn as they uncovered their true feelings.

As Y/n stirred in bed, the events of the previous night came flooding back. The club, the drinks, and the heated argument that had sparked something unexpected. She had woken up in a tangle of sheets, her body sore and sensitive. Her eyes flickered open, and she found herself face-to-face with Roman, his dark hair falling across his forehead, those deep brown eyes staring back at her.

The realization of where she was and who she was with sent a shock through her system. She started to pull away, but Roman's strong arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her close. "You're not going anywhere," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

"What... what happened last night?" Y/n asked, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew they had shared an intense moment on the dance floor, their eyes locked in a challenge that had sent sparks flying between them. But the rest was a blur.

"We happened," Roman replied, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "And it was fucking incredible."

Y/n felt her breath catch as she remembered snippets of their passion. Roman's hands on her body, his lips crushing hers, and the feel of him inside her. It had been unlike anything she had ever experienced. Their supposed hatred had morphed into something else entirely.

She traced her fingers along his muscular arm, feeling the strength that lay beneath. "I think I hate this," she whispered, her voice filled with conflicting emotions. "I think I hate that I want you."

Roman's eyes darkened, and he pulled her closer, his hand tangling in her hair. "You don't hate it," he growled. "You love it. You love the way I make you feel, the way I take control and make you mine."

She couldn't deny the truth in his words. The roughness of their encounter had ignited a fire within her, and she had surrendered to it completely. "I should hate you," she said, her voice laced with confusion. "But I..."

"You what?" Roman asked, his eyes searching hers.

Y/n took a shaky breath. "I think I love you," she confessed, her heart laid bare. "I think I always have, and I just couldn't admit it to myself."

A raw emotion flashed across Roman's face, and he crushed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss. It was fierce and demanding, a reflection of the turmoil they felt. Their tongues waged a passionate battle, tasting and claiming, as if trying to communicate what words could not.

As the kiss deepened, Roman's hand traveled down her body, cupping her breast and thumbing her sensitive nipple. Y/n arched into his touch, moaning into his mouth. Their passion was instantaneously rekindled, the intensity of their desire undeniable.

He pulled away slightly, his breath hot on her skin as he trailed kisses along her jawline and down her neck. "I've wanted to do this for so long," he growled, nipping at her earlobe. "Taste you, feel you, hear you screaming my name."

Y/n gasped as he nibbled and sucked on the sensitive skin of her neck, marking her as his own. "Roman," she moaned, her hands clutching at his back. "I need you. Right now."

With a growl, he shifted his body, positioning himself between her thighs. Y/n felt the hardness of his cock pressing against her, and she opened herself to him willingly. In one swift thrust, he claimed her, filling her completely.

She cried out as he stretched her, her walls gripping him tightly. Roman stilled for a moment, savoring the feeling of being embedded deep within her. Then, with slow, deliberate strokes, he began to move, setting a relentless pace.

"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his eyes never leaving hers as he withdrew and thrust into her again and again. "Always knew you'd be tight around me, baby."

Y/n's head fell back, her breath coming in short gasps as pleasure washed over her. "Yes... oh yes, Roman," she panted. " Harder... please."

His lips curved into a wicked smile, and he grasped her hips, lifting her to meet his powerful thrusts. The bed groaned beneath them as their bodies slapped together, the sound of flesh on flesh filling the room.

"That's it, take it all," he growled, his eyes hooded with desire. "Your pussy was made for my cock, Y/n."

His filthy words sent her spiraling closer to the edge, and she clawed at his back, urging him on. "Fuck me... harder, Roman," she begged. "Make me cum all over your big dick."

Grunting, he obliged, pounding into her with primal need. The head of his cock brushed her sweet spot with each thrust, sending shocks of pleasure through her body. Y/n's moans filled the room, her breathless cries spurring him on.

Their bodies glistened with sweat as their passion climbed higher. Roman reached between their bodies, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in circles. "Cum for me, baby," he demanded. "Let me feel you tighten around me."

With a cry, Y/n tumbled over the edge, her orgasm ripping through her. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. Roman groaned, feeling her release, and thrust a few more times before he followed her over the brink, spilling himself deep inside her.

As their breathing slowed, they collapsed in a tangle of limbs, still joined as one. Y/n felt Roman's heart pounding against her chest, his breath warm on her skin. She realized in that moment that their hatred had been a smokescreen, concealing a passion so intense it had scared them both. Now, in the aftermath of their confession, a new understanding would emerge.

Roman brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his expression soft. "I love you, Y/n," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "I always have, even when I tried to deny it."

She smiled, her heart swelling. "I love you too, Roman," she replied, savoring the feeling of his weight on top of her. "I guess sometimes hate is just misunderstood love."

And in that moment, as they lay spent and satisfied, they knew that their WWE rivalry would never be the same again. Their hatred had transformed into a passion so intense it would fuel their every encounter, both in and out of the ring.

#roman reigns #wwe #jey uso #jimmy uso #wwe smackdown #the tribal chief #head of the table #wwe raw #beautiful roro #big daddy uce #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns oneshot #wwe roman reigns #jey uso wwe #wwe imagines #wwe smut #wwe superstars #roman empire #tribal chief #the head of the table #big daddy #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns fan fiction #paul heyman #jey uso smut #requests! 𐙚

[thelunarfairy]

Tsukasa's loneliness…

I've been thinking about Tsukasa's situation. How he is so tired. Tired of waiting for Amane, tired of being alone, tired of staying awake. Even after his death, he remained, he, just like Amane, he didn't go anywhere.

Death should be eternal rest, shouldn't it? But he never dies, no matter how many times he sacrifices himself, he always stays awake, alone. As a boy, he lived isolated in a house cursed with strange creatures who used him as bait, while he missed his brother.

When he returned, he had his life taken and awakened again in a dark and lonely place… the boundary. We can imagine how much he called out for his brother, even though he killed him, but his voice could never be heard, at best, considering that Amane wasn't such a bad brother.

Perhaps, while he was in that cage, he remembered those dark days…. Where he would have to once again try to free himself alone, without strength, without will, and he had already called him so much, that he was now convinced that It wouldn't make a difference, he wouldn't come for him.

Does he regret coming back? Back to Amane… Because in the end he was alone in the same way as the beginning…

Tsukasa is so tired, and now I can understand him a little. He wants to be destroyed, he wants to leave again, because there is no reason for him to stay. Hanako held him close to him in an almost eternal bond, he forced him to stay by his side even though he abandoned him. He is his yorishiro, and the only way to untie himself is to remove the seal, or destroy him…

But why didn't he just ask Nene from the beginning, when she didn't know he was a yorishiro, to take off that seal?

Because he wants to resolve things directly with Amane before leaving again. He wants Amane to do this, because it wouldn't be fair for him to go through all this and for him to simply leave without Amane even showing that he loves him…

That's just what he wants to hear.

He is no longer disappointed, he is not surprised that Amane acts in a negative way. He accepted that Amane hates him, that Amane doesn't miss him, that Amane doesn't want to be with him, that Amane doesn't listen to his voice, that Amane… won't save him.

He expected Hanako to take Nene from his arms and walk away while he fell to the deepest side of that boundary. It was what he expected of him.

Even though little Tsukasa came back, he just became more sure that Amane hated him… Tsukasa with seal asked him, in his first appearance "do you remember me?"

Hanako abandoned him.

And even so, Tsukasa was so happy to see him again, oh, what a melancholic love… To imagine that he followed his entire relationship with Nene, that he saw that every time she called for him, he heard her …

Why couldn't he hear Tsukasa's voice?

Imagine, you love someone so much that they turn their back on you, while you watch that person give their all for someone else. As if he didn't deserve to receive the same as her, not in a romantic way, but as a younger brother.

The one who spent his days trying to fulfill his brother's wishes while he was sick, the one who… left to save the one he loved, who came back to give his older brother one more chance, a chance to show how he feels in truth…

And in the end, being stabbed in the chest, yes, in the heart. How many stabs has he already received from Amane?

To be locked up and left alone for 10, 20 years… He just wants to leave again, but before that, he still intends to fulfill other people's wishes.

What will be Tsukasa's true wish…. I think only Amane can fulfill it….

#jibaku shounen hanako kun #hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #amane yugi #hanakokun #jshk #tbhk #aidairo #jshk spoilers #yugi twins #tbhk hanako #jshk hanako #yugi tsukasa #tsukasa yugi #yugi amane #jshk theories

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

How would any of the T-dolls react to their s/o easily picking them up or physically overpowering them with no effort or strain whatsoever

(GFL) AK-15, RPK-16, SPAS-12, G11, HK416, and RO635's S/O picking them up

Admittedly it is possible with some of the lighter T-Dolls like AN-94, but imagine trying to lift someone like SPAS.

15's eyes only slightly widen in surprise when S/O manages to pick her up and carry them, bridal style.

She turns her gaze to S/O with a relatively deadpan voice.

(AK-15) "What is the purpose of doing this, S/O?"

(S/O) "Well, I want to show you that I can carry you too!"

(AK-15) "It is impressive, but unnecessary."

(S/O) "It absolutely is! How else could I prove the strength of love?"

(AK-15) "..."

(S/O) "...T-That was a joke-"

15 gently pushes S/O off as she gets on her own two feet.

(AK-15) "Now that I know your strength, S/O, you should join me for training sometime this week."

15 found their strength neat, but it didn't really fluster her as much as S/O hoped it would.

16 lets a quiet "oh" escape her lips as S/O picks her up without issue.

(RPK-16) "Oh, you're far stronger than I thought."

(S/O) "Come on, I gotta do something to impress you!"

(RPK-16) "Well, you certainly did that...Interesting place for your hands too."

(S/O) "W-Well, I'm just lifting you, not groping you!"

(RPK-16) "Hm, is that right?"

Even though she was in their arms, S/O was starting to blush making her laugh.

16 at least knows someone can carry her to the repair bay. And bed. And anywhere, really.

She is half tempted to ask S/O just to carry her everywhere.

SPAS is completely shocked when her feet leave the ground.

(SPAS-12) "GUH?!"

(S/O) "Gotcha!"

SPAS blushes madly when she realizes S/O is able to lift her, and they didn't seem to struggle either.

(SPAS-12) "S-S/O?! The heck are you doing?!"

(S/O) "Can I not pick up my beautiful girlfriend?"

Blushing at the name, she ignored the teasing and asked her main question.

(SPAS-12) "Just how strong are you, and why did you never tell me you could do this!? You could've helped me bring my equipment back a while ago!"

SPAS begins to pout, from both their strength, and the fact they never offered once to help carry all her snacks and gear.

G11 just lets out a quiet but cute "waaaah" as she is lifted into S/O's back.

Her arms wrap around their neck softly as she yawns.

(G11) "Hm...comfy."

(S/O) "Wow, your equipment is a lot lighter than I thought it'd be!"

(G11) "...You're not going to take me to do work, are you?"

(S/O) "I was just wanting to show you how strong I was, really."

S/O already knew G11 was closing her eyes as her head rested on their shoulder.

(G11) "Take me to bed and put the blankets over me..."

Now she latches onto S/O's back solely to go to sleep, much to S/O's annoyance.

HK416 screams many German curses as the floor suddenly leaves her feet, seeing S/O carry them.

(HK416) "What the hell are you doing to me?!"

(S/O) "Surprise! Just wanted to pick you up.~"

She has half a mind just to punch them in the face.

Instead, she frowns before getting on the floor herself and crossing her arms.

(HK416) "Don't just pick me up without warning, jackass! That's just begging to get hit!"

(S/O) "Did you not like it?"

(HK416) "No, I didn't!"

The blush on her cheeks tells S/O otherwise.

Now, HK would do the same to them, similarly without issue.

(HK416) "Not so fun when it happens to you, is it?"

(S/O) "Actually, your arms feel kinda nice..."

(HK416) "Tch, whatever..."

RO yelps as S/O suddenly picks her up, making her stammer.

(RO635) "W-What in the world are you doing, S/O?!"

S/O flashed her a cheeky grin before kissing her on the cheek.

(S/O) "Seeing your reaction."

(RO635) "N-NOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHERS!"

Her hands are close to her chest and fidgeting wildly as she feels the gaze of her squad on them.

(S/O) "Sorry, couldn't resist!"

RO is pouting the entire time when they finally put her down.

She doesn't even think about the implications of a human being able to completely carry her due to being flustered.

(RO635) "Please do not do that to me without warning..."

(S/O) "So I can do it as long as I tell you?"

(RO635) "No, that is not what-"

(S/O) "Picking you up!"

(RO635) "S/O! I am -UWAH?!"

#girls' frontline imagines #girls' frontline headcanons #girls' frontline x reader #ak 15 x reader #rpk 16 x reader #spas 12 x reader #g11 x reader #hk416 x reader #m16a1 x reader #ro635 x reader #ak 15 gfl #rpk 16 gfl #spas 12 gfl #g11 gfl #hk416 gfl #ro635 gfl

[bellelvrs]

HOSTAGE / HOMELANDER

summary - while on a mission, homelander saves beautiful hostage, then fucks her. what else was he supposed to do?

warnings - smut, foreplay, possessive behavior, slight yandere, slight sub/dom, fingering, masturbation.

a/n - 1536 words, afab reader.

That simmering, crimson ray of light pierced through thick shadows of the warehouse.

A bright beacon of hope?

Or sign that the day of reckoning has come upon you?

You had lost feeling in your limbs, which were tightly bound to a small chair. Each breath heavy on your tired lungs as your captors slowed the torture. Had they left? Was your innocence finally proven? The restless buzz of worry calmed as you lost consciousness.

His presence was enough to silence an army of men. If there were even any alive. A man symbolizing the indomitable grit and spirit of America, yet something vile, morbid writhed beneath the perfected facade.

Homelander loomed over your limp body, appreciating every feature of yours, even with the rusted spatters of blood and golden bruises.

There was something about you that stirred a hunger within him. It made him squirm with impatience, the way he didn’t understand why. The fresh wounds left by those imbeciles made his heart ache and blood boil.

Why would people do such disgusting things to a beauty like you?

This was all for show…right? All of it was choreographed and staged to raise his ratings. Fans were practically hanging off of their seats waiting for the broadcast of Homelander’s newest heroic act. The ideal situation-ship: Homelander defeats terrorist cartel and saves young hostage! A shining knight accompanied by his damsel in distress. You were so pretty. So pathetic. You were merely human. A puny, sensitive, frail creature in need of guidance from a god.

A god like him.

He dropped to his knees, breaking you free from the chains easily, letting your body fall helplessly onto his. Cradling you like a fallen angel, his mind distorted with desire. That strange feeling flourished inside of Homelander like an untamed fire.

No human should have that strength over him. It was insulting. These urges had long been repressed ever since…

He wanted you in ways that he thought he could only have within his imagination.

The stray lightbulb above illuminated the glow of your skin, which had been blanketed in muck and gore. A hand caressed the swollen plush of your face.

His eyes focused on every part of you. You had more purpose than just being a measly subject.

Then he came to realization.

He could have you however he wanted.

You were something to be protected, prized.

All he had to do was make you his.

-

You quietly rose from a bed that was not yours. There was a silhouette standing against the sparkle of the city that beamed through the window. Your vision, a tired blur, could clearly identify the Homelander watching from across the room. Just after your eyes fluttered open, he began to approach you with slow, menacing steps.

‘Well, well, look who’s awake,’ Homelander spoke softly, a hungry gaze piercing through your skin.

You whined a bit, a throbbing ache rang inside your head like an unsteady heartbeat.

‘Wh-‘ a twinge of pain made you sit up with a jolt.

‘Shh, no need to be in a hurry,’ he sat at your side on the bed, a hand cupping your jaw. The slight force he applied to keep you in place was daunting. Despite the possible concussion you might have had, that stirring sickness within your stomach was from the panic.

‘I’m going to take care of you.’ Homelander cooed, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb.

‘Take…’ you croaked, struggling to formally speak, ‘Take me home.’.

Homelander, confused, slightly offended, shook his head. His gentle hold on your face became a tight grip, pulling you closer to him.

Why would you want to leave?

He carried you to the safety of his penthouse, bathed you in his tub, let you nap in his bed. You were more than just some obscure guest.

‘You’re here, you don’t need to go anywhere.’

A threatening, shark-like smile stretched across his face.

‘You are home.’

Though both of your bodies were now pressed against each other, there was little warmth that radiated from Homelander. Soft, yet cold lips cool upon your skin. A body of pure muscle restless as it straddled you, almost suffocating with it’s pressure. Just as though you were pressing a fresh bruise.

The pain felt good.

Dizzying heat blossomed within your body as he breathed you in with every kiss. He was desperate to devour every inch of you, teeth pulling on your lip, tongue dancing along with yours. You bucked your hips against the bulge hiding beneath his pants. In that moment you didn’t want to fight back. Fear hid in the shadow of bliss. Desire swayed your rationality.

His lips fell from yours and brushed against your chin.

‘They won’t touch you again.’

He steadied himself on his knees, beginning to undress.

‘No one will. Only me. Only ever me. And if they do, I’ll tear those dirty bastards apart.’

You had just noticed you were completely bare underneath the sheets, the chilling satin tickling your skin. Homelander quickly tore them away, revealing your body. It took great strength for him to avert his eyes from your chest.

‘But if you let them,‘ Homelander muttered under his breath, still focused on the every curve of your body.

‘I’ll fucking kill you.’

Blinking slowly, you furrowed your brow,

‘What?’

Homelander smirked at the concern in your tone. He fixed himself between your legs, spreading you like a whore.

‘Just let me…help you.’

Bowing his head to your chest, he allowed his lips to graze over your tits. Every swipe of his tongue across your nipple made your entire body pulse with a euphoric feeling. Homelander relished every whimper and moan that escaped your throat.

It had been quite a long time since he felt in power. He didn’t enjoy assimilating with humans, acting as if he was one of them. They were weakening him. His strength needed to be recognized. No charity galas, no photo shoots, or movies. He needed the respect. The submission.

The love.

You were a symbol of rebirth, of enlightenment. With you, he could prove himself a god. A hero and his muse. Oh, what damage he could do to ruin such a beautiful thing.

A hand snaked down to your cunt, immediately massaging your swollen clit. You could feel him smile while still sucking on your tits.

‘Fuck me.’ You gasped, twitching as his sheer body weight refused to let your back arch.

‘What’s that?’ Homelander looked up at you, nose brushing against your chest.

Your chest heaved, legs shifting as he fastened his pace on your clit.

‘Fuck. Me.’

Homelander rose, tilting his head. Before you could even finish, that same hand, now slick from the wetness of your cunt, wrapped around your throat. He positioned himself so that one of your legs draped over his shoulder. The head of his cock teased your entrance.

Slowly, with a faint whimper, he pushed himself inside of you.

Almost softly rocking his hips closer, and closer to you, you bucked your own in impatience.

‘Tsk, tsk,’ Homelander disapproved,

‘Tell me you love me.’ He stated firmly.

The pace of his cock sliding in and out of you gradually quickened.

You turned your head, burying your face into the pillow in shame, muffling your moans.

‘Tell me.’

Your lip bled, begging for mercy as you bit it as hard as you could.

‘Tell me!’ Homelander barked, giving a rough thrust into your cunt simultaneously.

‘I love you,’

This wasn’t casual? There was love somewhere within all of this mess? You were barely awake, all you knew was that the touch felt invigorating. You didn’t mean to be disingenuous to taunt him, but he certainly seemed to feel hurt.

‘I love you.’ You restated breathlessly.

‘Good..good girl.’

Homelander trailed off, too invested in ramming himself inside of you now. He grunted and moaned louder than you, almost as if he was in a trance. His grip on your thigh was painful, nails digging harshly into skin. The girth of his cock didn’t fail to widen and please every area and nerve of your cunt. Beneath both of your bodies, the bed creaked alarmingly, threatening to snap at any moment.

You reached out a hand which wrapped around the forearm holding him steady. A sudden flash of light blinded you eyes and mind. Letting out a ragged breath, you struggled to keep your limbs strong as your entire body fell limp.

Immediately after, you fought to not laugh as Homelander finished with a vulnerable moan. His head drooped as he let his cock drain the cum into you.

Nonetheless, he wasn’t done.

Chest heaving with every long drawn breath, Homelander pulled himself up directly above your chest, and began to rapidly pump his tired cock. With another grunt, he let the final cum spread across your tits. Like a brush on a canvas, he wiped what was left across your chest.

‘Good, good,’ he murmured, weakly laying down beside you, then hugging your body against his.

As much as you might have wanted to stay awake, to process what you had done, you couldn’t help your conscious drift into a sea of black.

#homelander #homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys #billy butcher #hughie campbell #starlight #queen maeve #the boys amazon #mothers milk #marvin milk #soldier boy #the boys x reader #the boys x you #the boys show #the boys season 3 #the boys series

[themadlu]

A Simple Thing – Pt. 2

Astarion doesn't know how to navigate love, not when it's so real and alive. His fears are still clawing at him, and he still doesn't understand fully why Zélie chose him.

Luckily, she is set on making her sassy elf understand she isn't going anywhere without him. And what better place for starcrossed lovers to tend to each other, than a warm bath?

TW: nudity, mentions of sex. This one is mostly angsty fluff.

WC: ~4.4K

Read Part 1 here!

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird (thanks for beta reading!), @amywritesthings

In his frantic state, it takes a beat too long for Astarion to realise that the tremors have rippled from his hands to his arms and jaw. Long enough that even Zélie, imperceptive as she is to such inconsequential little things, has noticed them. 

(He’ll never get used to seeing her worrying about him. To how utterly confusing it is, her accepting him so wholly, so completely, that the very sight of his distress pains her. He doesn’t have the strength to hate her for making him so reliant on her, not anymore. The spite that made him what he is cowers like a rabid dog when she’s close, and she is always close, in his mind if not in reality.)

Zélie lets out an exhale, looking briefly at the ceiling before training her eyes on his. Centuries worth of insecurities are on full display in his red irises, and it is all her fault—she ripped his practised masks off him, mercilessly, one by one, to unearth the corpse that lay underneath. 

You should have known better, silly love.

Her pale eyes are assessing him, studying every inch of his face and body. She must have found what she was looking for because he recognises that unexpected, precious softness in them, wider, kinder, welcoming him in. 

(They used to be so inscrutable at first.) 

Astarion’s pointy ears perk up in attention when Zélie suddenly speaks. “Come with me,” she says, then she…winks before turning her back to him.

What the hells is that?!

They have lived and fought (and slept) together, first side by side, then in each other’s arms, and this is the first time in all their travels that his ever-serious woman winks. Children do that in secret mocking; harlots do that to attract customers—he knows because he often did so himself.

He didn’t even think her face could do that. It makes her look young (Or just her age, he never knows with humans), free, happy even, and he can’t do anything else but stare and vow silently that she will stay free and content. He’ll do anything in his power to make it so.  

“Come where?” he questions, but he doesn’t really care, not as long as she wants him with her. 

A hand lifts in front of his face, so close he smells the dirt on it before seeing it and his nose wrinkles in horror. “Astarion? Come with me? Please.” Zélie is half facing him and Astarion finally takes notice that her whole little body is covered in something that smells foul. Disgusting. He can barely perceive the crisp scent he craves underneath all…that.

“What in the bloody hells is that, darling?! Did you fall into a pile of manure, perchance?” 

Zélie’s forehead creases in the way it does when her patience is being stretched thin. He is proud to say he’s almost always the cause of it. He likes to think that he impacts her almost as much as she does him. 

Deep down he knows he does, because she wouldn't be here with him now otherwise. She’d be with someone actually worthy of her, like generous, brave, perfect Wyll.

(That first jealousy has been smothered, but the damning embers remain.)

“Come where, he says? Oh, you know, I was thinking of going to one of those wine tasting events we saw in town the other day. Enjoy an elegant evening together as we sip on a delicious burgundy, discussing the current socio-economic woes of the city with its upper class. They would be ecstatic to reveal any valuable information to this,” she gesticulates at her mud-soaked clothes before tiredness deflates her a bit. 

“I have heard sewer essence is the latest perfume craze in Baldur’s Gate lately,” her lips curve upward in a barely-there smile. “Though now that I think about it, it’s best if you keep your distance until I properly wash. I don’t even want to think about what deadly diseases I am exposed to right now.”

Astarion catches her outstretched hand before she can retract it. She’ll vanish if he doesn’t tether himself to her. He intertwines his fingers with hers, so that his ivory skin turns murky brown. Like hers. 

“So I was right, love. You did fall into a pile of manure.”

His little saviour’s hand immediately relaxes in his (Another major source of pride, that he can elicit this response from her.), as he slowly, gently, brings it to his lips to press featherlight kisses on her abused knuckles. Gods, he’ll force her into an armour tomorrow. Gloves, at the very least. 

(Maybe he’ll tie her to the bed, safe and warm and out of harm’s way, as he’s threatened to do before.)

“More like a whole river of it,” she confesses. “And mud. It appears that mephits and bhaalists have no hygiene standards.”

The elf grinds his teeth, fangs pricking his lower lip. What a complete disregard for his feelings, to put herself at risk, the very being that gave him life anew. In his irritation, he cannot stop himself from pulling her body against his to ask the question burning on his tongue. 

“I wouldn’t know, darling. I was not allowed the pleasure to witness it with my own eyes,” his accusation borders on a whine. “How considerate of you, to leave me here in a clean bed while good old Gale is considered capable enough to offer his explosive services.”

The mocking tone is not enough to hide the fear in his voice. 

(“Pathetic, prattling child. What a useless thing you are.”)

“Why did you leave me here?” he whispers it, but it sounds as threatening and desperate as the prayer of a convict seconds from execution. 

“Because you looked tired.” 

Simple. Straight to the point as always. 

“Because I—what?” Astarion blinks at her as if she grew a second head. Him, tired? He is a newly freed vampire, he does not get tired. “I thought we discussed how I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions!”

Zélie straightens her posture, sighing in affectionate irritation. “Yes, Astarion, tired. Fatigued. Wary. Whichever term you prefer. I noticed you’ve been down, since…well, since all that happened with that twat.” 

Astarion’s anxiety eases at the way his precious hero refuses to name Cazador. His captor is dust and she established firmly that complete oblivion will be the punishment for his crimes, for what he did to so many souls (What he did to him. She damns his master so, because of her love for him.) The elf is dazed by her unyielding devotion and the warmth spreading from her calloused hand into every part of him. 

“Darling, I don’t know what you mean. I feel splendid! I’m free, finally, truly free. Thanks to you. With you!” He laughs in incredulity at the thought. “Only a couple of world-ending obstacles between us and the forever we deserve.”

Melancholy flashes through Zélie’s eyes. There won’t be a forever for them, not since she convinced him to renounce the Ascension. Even then, he knows she would have denied his offer of immortality. Astarion tenses, balling his free hand in a fist. Stubborn woman, refusing to understand. He will not lose her; he found her after centuries of unheard prayers, and he will not let something as trivial as mortality take her away from him. 

(He will prove her wrong, this once. All the sacrifices they’ve made are worth nothing less than eternity.)

Zélie pulls him from his thoughts, shuffling a little on her feet with uncharacteristic shyness. “I was also afraid.” She confesses it as if it were a dirty secret, but Astarion is unsure why. If she fears something, that’s all the more reason to take him with her (As if his devotion alone could shield her from all harm.)

 “After what happened at the mansion,” that. He remembers bits and pieces of his kidnapping, Petras’s sneers and Aurelia’s apologies, the darkness, being trapped and bruised and left naked in the kennels before—

A slave. Weak.

It makes sense, in hindsight, for her not to want—need—his protection in battle after what she saw. “Ah. My sweet, I—”

“I thought I lost you,” the words are barely voiced, but they ring like thunder in the vampire’s ears. “That can’t happen, you see. Astarion, I know it goes against what I’ve been taught and I know I am not one to show my feelings, and that is a strength until it becomes a weakness, especially with you. Because it appears I haven’t been clear enough: I don’t want to put you in danger anymore than necessary. Not now, nor after we’ll be done with all this bother.” She points at her temple while holding his gaze to ensure he understands. 

He does and he does not. 

Because he felt the same the closer they got to the city—his nice, simple plan falling apart spectacularly, backfiring even, as the dread of seeing his Zélie at Cazador’s mercy settled around him like grave chill. 

(It’s too soon to realise it, but Astarion would take being under his master again over seeing his hero hurt. And now he knows she feels the same way about him, a cadaver.)

Astarion starts trembling again from joy, fear, relief and something he learnt to recognise as unbridled devotion for the creature in front of him. Zélie has no chance to react, not when his roguish reflexes have been boosted by days of actual rest (And by her own blood.) His lips crash into hers, fangs clashing on smaller teeth, the kiss of an inexperienced schoolboy, but he’s decided that the small space between them is more punishment than being buried alive. 

“Oh, Astarion! The sewers,” he doesn’t care, not when she is here with him, safe and alive, not when he can smell her under all that mud. 

I missed you, he thinks, half-mad with quelled worry. 

“Don’t you dare leave me behind again, you utter moron,” he rasps between kisses. 

Zélie lets out an entertained breath and nips at his upper lip lovingly before rubbing her bumpy nose against his. Astarion doesn’t pretend to breathe when he is with her anymore, not since she’s grown so stupidly comfortable with his vampiric nature, but the subtle affection radiating from her is so encompassing that his dead lungs expand in an involuntary gulp of air. 

“Understood. Come then, sassy elf,” she murmurs. “I am in desperate need of a bath and now you are too,” she swipes at the mud on his face. His brave woman gently pulls him towards the wooden bathtub in the corner of the large room. “The others will come here soon after finishing their supper and there will be a…well, a bloodbath to decide who takes a bath first.”

Gods, what a terrible pun, as always. What a beautifully crooked smile at her own joke, as always. 

The sight makes the elf giggle with wonder before he can stop himself. 

(Once, Shadowheart dared to point out that Astarion and Zélie have a similar sense of humour. What nonsense. As if the Sharran knew what humour even is.)

“Astarion?” Zélie’s voice snaps him from his musings. The bath is filled with steaming water and her skin’s flushed with the heat under all that dirt. She looks at him, waits for him to decide what he wants to (He’d have to be fully dead not to join her.) He commits the sight before him to eternal memory, in the scraps of his soul that belong to her now.

“Oh, you need to feed as well. It’s already been a couple days.”

I still can’t believe you are real. Mine. All mine. 

“Come here, darling. Let me wash you first, gods know you need it,” he says in half-mocking. His solemn lover steps closer, trusting him always, and he unbuttons her blouse and trousers first, then takes off her smallclothes, all thoroughly soaked with disgusting mud. She stands naked before him as if it were the most normal thing in the world, to be bare in close quarters with a vampire.

(Home. She feels like home. She is safe with him.)

Only the light specks of pink on her cheeks betrays her, a telltale sign this unguarded version of her is only for him. It makes him want to fall to his knees in prayer and shake her for naivety at the same time.

The warmth of her body leaves him as she walks to the bath and submerges herself. By the time he gathers himself on a stool near her, the water is already murky brown. Ugh. He has never seen that much dirt on her, not even in the wilds of the Grove. “Stay still darling and let me turn you back into a human,” he coos, soap in hand, leathering her shoulders, arms, breasts, every part of the person he cherishes most of all. 

Bruises appear as the mud is scrubbed away. A large, purple patch on the right side of her ribcage, a smaller one on her clavicle. Anxiety bubbles up again and he has to say something (To prattle.) or else he’ll go insane. “Are you telling me that the others went straight to dinner looking like oversized dungs, my sweet?” Zélie almost chokes on a scandalised laugh, sending him a chastising glare. “I am the only ‘breathing dung’ here, thank you very much. They were not as unlucky, so they won’t empty the tavern with their stench.”

But of course they weren’t. I’ll drain them dry, balance the scales. 

Tiredness seeps off his brave leader and Astarion is still astounded at how easily she lets him take her worries away, if just for a moment. Only he can do that, with the smallest of things: a quip, a laugh, an innocent touch, just by being himself, whatever that means. She sees him like he matters (He does, to her.) and he will do anything not to lose that. He’s the strongest and weakest he’s ever been.

A newly-clean, calloused finger softly traces his cheekbone. “Where are you, Astarion? Would you rather wait for me outside?”

No!

“No! No, my love. I am exactly where I want to be.” He tries to be suave, but comes off as pathetic, like a babe who won’t leave his mother’s shadow. 

Zélie’s stare hardens. “Stop that,” his face fits perfectly in her small hands, reverent touches that make him exhale a rough breath. “You are the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever met. You will drive me to an early death with stress, but!” She interrupts him as he is about to protest, overt displays of emotion rare and difficult to articulate for her. “I wouldn’t change it for anything else. You are loved. You are you. And you will see your own, infinite worth one day. How was it? Cross my heart and hope to—uhmp!.”

His body moves before his mind fully processes her words. No one has ever had a kind word for him, and here this impossible creature stands, worshipping him, a corpse, a whore, and she must know how he will not have her mention her death, not even in jest, because it won’t happen, he won’t let it and he’s kissing her, hard, and he won’t lose her now she finally found him—

He falls in the bathtub, entangled with his lover and laughing like a madman. “Astarion! Ouh, what are you doing?! Your clothes!”

“I honestly couldn’t care less, darling,” he croaks. Astarion is soaked in disgusting water, his camp clothes are ruined, Zélie’s already messy hair is a sopping mess and the oils he poured in the tub are not enough to disguise the sewer smell. He’s so, so, so utterly content. He commits all the minute details of it to memory. The more he knows her, the more he loves her, the more she chases his nightmares away; one day, his reveries will consist entirely of her. Them. 

“All right, all right, you mad elf, let me at least change the water before we both die of some horrid infection,” Zélie concedes in half-mock exasperation. He grins like a child, toothy, fangs on display. Ridiculous, but he doesn’t care. “Vampire, darling. Infections are a thing of the past.” 

She looks at him still sitting in the receding water as if he were the most precious thing she ever saw. “Good for you. Alas,” she pulls at her round ears. “Human. Let’s not test my luck, mhm?” He giggles like a fool while pouring oils in the freshly drawn bath. 

His darling woman shifts closer, warm and intoxicating. “May I?” She points at his clothes. Astarion’s lips part in pleased surprise. She wouldn’t touch him at all if she could help the first few tendays, and even after things changed between them she’s still been hesitant. It annoys him and endears him to no end. “You can keep them on if you prefer, of course.” 

“No, love. I’d much rather you freed me of these yourself,” he whispers, leaning into her before settling back in an alluring pose that worked oh-so-well with his targets. She just rolls her eyes, but the tinge of pink dust on her cheeks is back in full-force when she starts undoing his shirt’s buttons. 

Impossible woman, do you not know what you do to me?

Slowly, one by one, the buttons are freed, her fingers leaving scorching little touches on his skin. He wants to burn for her. Shirt discarded on the floor, she unlaces breeches that have gone uncomfortably tight at this point, and Astarion lets out a relieved moan once his erection is freed. He pays it no mind; she’s looking at him, all of him, and she’s made him come accidentally with less before, but she is exhausted and bruised, and unlike those useless companions they have, he wants her to fucking rest. To make himself useful without expecting anything in return.

(She gave him everything already.)

“Come here, oh!” Zélie starts to speak, but Astarion takes her by the waist so her back is against his chest and she’s is his arms. He is sure she can feel how hard he is and he knows what it does to her, ears red from an adorable mixture of embarrassment and desire. It doesn’t matter, because the second he starts massaging her scalp with oils, she melts into him so perfectly they must have been the same being once, when life was new. There was no other explanation to the certainty of belonging in his chest. “You know, I may get used to this,” she murmurs as she twists her face up to stare at him. 

I hope you do, is what he thinks.

He wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of time. “Ugh, we’ll see if the cuddly mood strikes me again, darling,” is what he says. He’s never felt safer than when she’s with him, but true vulnerability will take time to build. And patience. She has enough of the latter, and he will take care of the former. He takes her chin in his hand, brushing his thumb against her wet cheekbone. “It’s nice to see it’s really you, my dear, under all that filth.” The pale elf is almost done cleaning his lover and is thinking of a way to keep her there with him (She is always so awfully practical, even baths follow a military regimen.), when she turns to face him, straddling his legs.

Unpleasant memories shadow his mind for a moment, before she lifts his chin with her index finger, forcing him to look at her. Astarion realises she is keeping away from his sensitive areas, sitting towards his knees, soap in hand. “My turn, if I may?” Oh. She wants to help him bathe, too. He is still not used to Zélie asking for permission to a spawn as thoroughly used as him, but he lets his face fall into the crook of her neck to hide the blush on his cheeks (He can’t hide how much harder her consideration makes him.) “All yours, love,” he mumbles, meaning it. It’s her fingers in his curls now, tugging gently to undo stubborn knots, and he has to remind himself that this is real, she is real, not a figment of a slave-addled mind. He gasps softly and swells when his hero takes the tip of his ears between her index and thumb, down to his earlobes before stopping at his neck.

“Love, ask if you can touch me again and I swear I’ll go insane,” Astarion pants in her neck. “I want you to touch me.” 

Only you. 

Zélie huffs, “Message received.” She places her palms on his neck, his back, and the world spins when she massages the wretched bite mark and cuts that mar it. Astarion tenses, he can’t help it, but if anyone can give new meaning to those scars, it is his little saviour. He inhales her scent to relax, the crispness of her skin and the sweetness of her blood peeking through the layers of soap and oils. He adores her natural smell, more so than her blood, delectable as it is. His sanguine taste is a collateral of his unwanted condition, something he had no say nor choice in. Her scent, he is sure, he would have loved as a mortal elf–it’s fresh, subtle, sensible. It’s her, and he smiles widely when he detects a note of rosemary and bergamot in it, just as he delights in smelling her on his own skin. All his. All hers. A claim, as obvious as the fang marks on her neck.  

He must have left one too many kisses on the healed wound, because Zélie puts her lips to his ear, “If you’re hungry, you can eat.” Astarion is always hungry, another shackle that will come back full force once the tadpoles are removed, but he is starving for her. Zélie hates being bitten (Silly woman, terrified of needles and in love with a vampire.) It makes her blood even more of a gift. 

“Really, darling? Here?” he asks to distract her, and bites her. “Ouch! You annoying elf!” She whisper-shouts while he traces wide circles in her back to help her relax. Astarion decides that if this is the only heaven he’ll ever know, the gods can rot for all he cares. He has all he wants.

When he is done, he licks every single drop of blood and rinses the wound with clean water. “There. All better.” Zélie is still in his lap, and she bumps her nose against his lightly, affectionately. The bath is cooling now. “Thank you, Zelie.” 

She raises her eyebrows in question. “Oh? What have I done now to deserve you saying my name?” That’s it. Astarion will have her until all she knows and feels is him. He dives on his precious woman again, giggling into her lips, when a loud crash and grunt comes from the entrance of the room and Zelie breaks the kiss in alarm. 

Astarion curses himself for having left his daggers in his pack, using his undead reflexes to stand in front of Zelie, fangs bared. Useless idiot. If it’s Orin, or one of her followers, there won’t be much he can do besides giving his love time to escape (As if she’d ever let him face any danger on his own, mad woman.) “Astarion, wait! It’s just Lae’zel.” 

“I require washing. I’ll be merciful and give you two seconds to vacate the tub. Do not try me!” 

If Lae’zel were not as useful in battle, Astarion would slit her throat, because how dare she interrupt— 

He startles when a clean, blue shirt drapes over his shoulders; Zélie stands next to him, already dried and half dressed (How did she manage that?!). The perfume on the garment tells him it’s one of her camp shirts. He wouldn’t admit it, not yet, but he rests infinitely better when wearing something of hers. It fits him fine—pillaging fallen enemies doesn’t allow the luxury of picking the correct size for their clothes.

“Make yourself scarce for a while, Gith!” He shouts as he gets dressed, and narrowly avoids a flower pot aimed for his head. Astarion is wondering yet again what Gith blood tastes like when Zélie firmly cradles his face, utters a “Behave,” and kisses him as if air were optional for her too. 

Fine. He’ll behave this once. 

Lae’zel’s presence fades away as all he can perceive is his hero clutching him like he’ll disappear. As if it were that easy to get rid of him. 

He clings to her red blouse—one of his, he thinks with pride—and when she breaks the kiss to breathe he hoists her up, her legs tangling around his slender waist instinctively. His nose tickles as her mad curls, free from their braids, are all over his face. 

Gods, she’s beautiful. 

“That’s it! Out!” Lae’zel bellows while pointing her sword at them, mud crusted all over the blade. “The puny vampire has thwarted you, Zélie. I expected better from you. Now, leave!”

Oh for hells' sa—

“So sorry, Lae’zel, we’re out! Have a nice bath.” Zélie is still perched on him as he pads to her bed. They have been sleeping separately since getting to Elfsong. He hates it; would she see him as overbearing if he asked—

“Sleep together?” Her little smile is so sincere and uncharacteristic that he drops her on the mattress, immediately laying on top of her.

Yes.

“Why, darling, do you miss me?” he grins. Say yes, please. 

“Of course. You’re too far now. I can’t fall asleep to your soft, sweet snores anymore.”

Something in his chest unravels, even as he threatens her to make her pay for this insult to his beautiful self. 

“Astarion?” 

“Mhm?”

“Bring your blanket, if you want.” 

If he had met her when he was still mortal, if he had been a better person back then  (More deserving), he would have mocked her righteousness and then married her in an instant. He knows. The hero of his dreams, packed in an impossible, stubborn, overly-honourable woman. Astarion would have still outlived her, but he would have had the certainty he would go find her, in the afterlife. He had a habit of taking the road less travelled, after all. 

Now, soulless, beaten husk of a thing that he is, he vows to hold on to her until all time ends and stars fade. Even after he will be no more, when new worlds are born, the memory of them will remain.

#astarion x oc #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x f!tav #oc: zelie #bg3 oc #astarion ancunin #astarion angst #astarion fluff #bathtime #thank you lae'zel for being a cockblock

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

Immortal Artistry - Ch. 3

Series Main List

A Vampire AU F1 Fic Featuring Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader, George Russell x Fem!Reader, hints of Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader, Lestappen, Sebchal, and Sainzell (or Russainz?)

Also on AO3

Ch. 3 Warnings: Language; stalker behavior; abduction; vampire thrall; WWII references to Hitler and Nazi regime; non-graphic violence, murder and death

2023

A tall man stands before you in the parking garage with sandy blonde hair, broad shoulders and a lean, tapered waist that shouldn’t be so distracting in such a risky situation. He braces one hand against his hip and the other hangs at his side as he offers a small smile. “Hello.” He says your name, and all of your survival instincts go on high alert.

Your heart hammers as adrenaline lights you up. “Wha… who are you?” You freeze in place, gripping your laptop bag to swing it in self-defense if needed. “H-how do you know my name?”

“My name is Max, and Charles told me.” His mouth pulls to a tight, closed-mouth smile as if indulging a small child. “And, really, nothing more should be said right now. And certainly not here.”

“O-okay.” You force a hard swallow. “Um, then… I’ll just be on my way.” You motion towards your car behind him, but he takes a step forward with a tense shake of his head.

“I’m afraid you can’t do that. Or, at least, not yet.” He says, taking another step forward, and you instinctively step back. “There are some things that you’re better off understanding first.”

“I-I don’t need to understand anything.” You stammer, taking another backwards step but it’s no match for his forward advance. “I haven’t done anything, and if you so much as fucking touch me, I’ll scream and bring the security guard running.”

He sighs in vague annoyance, but hardly looks deterred. “Well, we could have done this the easy way – believe me when I say that I’m here for your protection, that I don’t want to see you hurt – but I guess we’ll just have to do it the hard way.”

He lunges forward with a burst of impossible speed, holding your gaze captive with his own. His ice blue eyes glow like twin stars, and you’re helpless to look away. Waves of warmth and security roll through you, and… why exactly were you trying to get away from him? Especially as the comforting weight of his palm cups your jaw and his fingers caress your cheek. You want to melt into him, to never be without him, to always have him like this.

“That’s it,” he rumbles gently, stroking your cheek. “Now that we’ve made up from our fight, give me a hug for the camera…”

Your arms wrap around him without a second thought, and fuck… the solid, firm build of him sends your blood racing.

“That’s my girl.” He praises through the fog in your ears, pressing his lips against your other cheek. “Now, shall we get on with our date night? Loop your arm around my waist now, come on, and how about a smile…?”

He draws back and you're helpless not to drown under his lovely gaze as he shifts to your side. Your arm lands around the lean line of his waist as a smile brightens your face, and really… what’s so bad about this?

Your footsteps match his as you both draw up to your car and he guides you into the passenger seat. A whimper passes your lips as the lean strength of his body withdraws, and you try to reach out for him as he closes the door.

“No, schatje.” He says gently as he folds your hand back in your lap. “I’ll just be a minute.”

The door closes, and you can’t breathe as he circles around the front of the car and slides into the driver’s seat. It’s only as his hand envelops yours that the weight lifts from your chest and you stare at him, helpless to look anywhere else.

You barely hear the sound of the engine ignition or see the passing city lights as he cuts through the night. You don’t even know where you are as he finally brings the car to a stop. But again, the distance between you as he walks over to the passenger side of the car lances anxiety through you until his hand reconnects with yours – and you never want to be without him. How could you? Why would you? 

“Come on,” he whispers carefully as your feet move against a smooth surface – concrete, you think. A driveway. “This way…” He coos as he guides you forward and you cling to him, uncaring about anything else.

He pushes a large door open and golden light floods your vision. You can just make out white and cream blurs that might be furniture, but when you’re in his arms like this, who cares about furniture?

“Charles!” Max calls out loudly, and you press your ear tight against his chest as if to drown out the loud noise. “Charles, get down here!”

His strong arm disappears from around your waist and you're gently coaxed to sit on something soft and cushy. But you only have eyes for him as he starts to draw back, and you reach out for him as another voice echoes in your foggy brain.

“Mon dieu…” The voice is pure astonishment. “Max, what the hell is this? What is she-”

“George found her.”

“Fucking hell… and you had to bring her here for that?”

“You put her in danger and you need to get her out of it.”

“Seb would say that we should just drain her and be done with it.”

“And it may yet come to that, but with Xavi’s death, we might need her.”

“… Fine.” A long sigh follows, and another man moves into your vision. He’s… vaguely familiar, like a shadow from a distant dream, but he’s not the one you want..

Your hands reach out, feebly searching for what you know you’ll surely die without.

“Good lord, Max.” The man in front of you sighs again. “You didn’t have to go so hard on her.”

“I barely used my thrall… that’s all her, mate.”

“Then, get her out of it. Now.”

That same strong, comforting hand finds your jaw, and you reconnect with those gorgeous glacial eyes. All feels so right with the world and nothing could possibly –

“As you were.” Max commands, and the fog lifts.

You gasp as you come back to yourself, overloaded by too many realizations at once.

For one, the home you’re in is cavernous and opulent – for fuck’s sake, it's a mansion… if not a palace.

For two, Charles Leclerc, III, crouches down in front of you, dressed in grey joggers and a white t-shirt, looking far too relaxed despite the annoyed set of his handsome face.

For three, Max from the parking garage stands next to him with a terrifyingly neutral expression on his face.

“Where… what the fuck just happened? How did I get here? And…” your mouth goes dry and words choke in your throat. “Why am I here? I-I don’t know anything about what happened to Padros -”

“It’s alright,” Charles cuts off your rambling. “You’re not in danger, at least not from us.”

You scoff. “Yeah, I suppose you would say that.”

The corner of Charles’ mouth lifts. “And if I really did intend to hurt you, a comment like that could earn you a backhand across the cheek.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

The wicked lift of Charles’ mouth grows. “I don’t need to strike you to pacify you.”

A terrifying mix of vulnerability and arousal curdles in your blood. You’re suddenly all too aware of these intimidating men before you, and you’re still entirely too discomforted that you can’t recall anything about how you got here. To this… mansion with these two handsome – gorgeous, really – men staring down at you, oozing all confidence and power.

Dammit, this is not the time for your kinky side to take hold.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your unease and regain some modicum of control despite how powerless you feel. “Okay… but why am I here?” 

Charles blinks back at you. “I’m given to understand that you know George Russell.” 

Indignation furrows your brow. “And just how is that any of your business?” 

“I’m told that it’s my fault he contacted you.” 

The wrinkled set of your brow deepens. “You’re ‘given to understand’, you’re ‘told’… do you not do anything for yourself?” 

Max snorts a breathless laugh. “You know, she has a point, mate.” 

Nothing in the handsome lines of Charles’ face changes despite the hint of a smirk coming to his face. “I’ve known Max for quite a long time, and you wouldn’t be here now if it wasn’t true.” He shifts his weight, bracing a forearm against a knee. “Has George told you anything?” 

You arch an incredulous brow. “Anything about what…? Just what the fuck is going on here?” Frustration tightens your voice as your hand clenches in your lap. “He’s nobody, alright? George hasn’t told me anything! He’s never mentioned either of you. He’s just some new guy at work –"

“How new?” Charles’ tone is disconcertingly calm. 

“A couple of weeks, he said.” 

“And when did you first meet him?” 

“The night….” A chill races down your spine as your mind catches up to your adrenaline-fueled instincts. “I was leaving work just after our meeting, just after I had met you…” 

Charles’ eyes brighten as the connection is made. “And where did you meet George? Behind the secured access points of your building?” 

“No…” A shiver creeps along your skin. “In the parking garage… and then again, in the main lobby…” 

Max shakes his head with a scoff. “It’s easy enough to walk around a vehicle barrier or into an open lobby during business hours.” 

The realizations mix with the memory of your search for George in your company’s chat program. And after hearing Charles say George’s full name tonight, you hadn’t misheard, nor had you misspelled ‘Russell’ so poorly. Your mouth goes dry at the implication as your stomach sours. 

But the last thing you want to do is admit that Charles is right. That this man, whose - lacky? Minion? Bodyguard? Max? – abducted you to his house, is actually telling the truth. 

Charles blinks and gives his head a gentle shake. “For that and all of this, I do apologize. I didn’t intend to put you in such danger.” 

You fix Charles with a hard stare. “But what about Xavier? If he had met with you instead of me, would George have contacted him, too?” 

An enigmatic expression comes to Charles’ face. “I’m afraid those are questions for another time. This is about George, not Xavi.” 

“But they’re connected, aren’t they?” You try to seek the answer in Charles’ face. “They have to be.” 

The muscles of Charles’ jaw tighten. “If George contacts you again, don’t engage with him. Don’t help him. And paramount for your own safety, never look him in the eyes.” 

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous. And makes no sense.” Another frustrated sigh escapes you. “Nothing happens from looking someone in the eyes. We’re not wolves, for fuck’s sake.” 

Max sighs. “It’s not aggression that you need to worry about from him. Hypnosis is far more dangerous.” 

“Hypnosis?” You glare up at Max as creeping realization overtakes you. “Is that how I got here...?” You feel stupid for even asking the question, but very little about this entire conversation makes sense. “You…” your gaze trails back to Charles. “Max hypnotized me…?”

The corner of Charles’ mouth edges up, revealing the gleam of white teeth. “You probably shouldn’t make direct eye contact with him, either,” he chuckles with a suggestive undertone. “Unless you want to, of course. Plenty of people do.” 

You recoil at the implication, leaning back against the chair as Charles’ gentle laugh continues. 

Max sighs with thinly veiled annoyance. “Come on, Charles. Don’t play with your food.” 

The words rot in your gut and you dart wide eyes up to Max. All your instincts urge you to fight for escape – to flee for your life – but you have precious few options. Especially as Charles leans closer and his eyes darken above his attempt at a calming smile. 

“He’s only joking. You needn’t be so frightened, cara mia.” He coos gently as his gaze runs over your face and down your neck with a sudden, startling hunger. “Your heart is beating so fast.” 

“Well, what do you expect?” You hiss, grabbing the chair armrests as if that would save you. “You hypnotize me, you fucking kidnap me –”

Charles pushes to his feet. “Technically speaking, that was all Max. He had no direction from me to do so, but I’m glad that he did bring you here.” He shakes his head as he braces a hand on his hip and looks at Max. “This development is an unfortunate wrinkle. Surprising, even.” 

Max nods shortly. “They’ve never come this close.” 

Charles hums in quiet agreement. “That’s something we should look into. But first,” he turns back to you with a quick glance. “Take her home. Put her to bed.” 

“And the rest…?”

Charles steps around him, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder that borders on overly intimate. “I trust you.”

You push up from the chair, heart pounding as you seize the moment and start to run. But faster than you can breathe, a strong, solid arm hooks around your waist. You collide with the broad plane of Max's chest, and he isn’t even breathing hard as his chilly fingers find your jaw. Fuck, just why is his skin so cold? “Please…" you whimper. “Please don’t –"

“I know, schatje.” Max says softly as he tips your face up towards his and you glimpse those ice blue eyes. “Right here, that’s it.” He praises as your gazes lock. “Just like that…”

The world turns warm and fuzzy, and calmness suffuses you. Your muscles relax from the tension and relief surges through you. Tears sting your eyes and roll down your cheeks as you all but dissolve into the only source of comfort and protection that you need. 

Max holds you close as you desperately cling to him. “I know, I know,” he says with a slight edge of irritation, and he guides your unsteady feet. “But like Charles said, you don’t need to be frightened of us. After all, this is just a dream. Just a dream.”

The words resound in your brain.

Just a dream.

1943

Nightfall in the Netherlands continues to yield its secrets. Each German-occupied country possesses scars of the looting conquerors and Charles’ keen nose for the hunt continues to surprise both him and Seb. 

And he’s not just referring to the acrid smoke in the air. 

“Fucking bombers.” Charles grouses. “Can they not tell the difference between a factory and a museum?”

“I imagine it’s difficult.” Seb muses as dirt crunches against the cobblestone beneath their feet. “Mortals’ vision is already so limited and from that high altitude, moving at those speeds.” He tilts his head up to the hazy sky in assessment. “How could you accurately tell one building from another?”

“Factories have chimneys and black smoke.” 

“Not all of them do. Textile miles don’t… at least,” Seb pauses as he frowns. “Well, they didn’t use to. But maybe they do now… the Industrial Revolution was a fascinating thing to witness, but far too much smoke to tell one factory from the next in the city centers. Even for one such as myself.”

Charles quirks a wry grin. “You surprise me, Seb. For a man of reason and organization, you should have nothing against the Industrial Revolution.” 

Seb shrugs a shoulder. “Progress always comes with a cost. The ages teach us that, if nothing else. Exploration comes with rampant disease. Colonization comes with inherent subjugation. Industrialization comes with unjust squalor. And technology comes with mass destruction.”

Charles hums in quiet consideration. “Is that what you saw during the Great War?” He has heard about the terrors of trench warfare and gas bombs, but he has no basis for comparison. Hell, even as an immortal, he barely has a stomach for the current war.

“Yes.” Seb’s voice holds the heavy weight of unwanted memory as they round a corner onto a side street. “Mercifully, the horrors unleashed by that war are yet to be repeated on this battlefield.”

Charles heaves a sigh – not that he needs to breathe anymore, but it’s oddly habitual. “Do you suppose there’s any hope that mankind will ever stop inventing ways to kill one another?”

A wry smirk cracks Seb’s face as he glances over in this darkness. “You don’t really want my –”

A muffled groan and grunts in German slice through their conversation. Charles’ gaze snaps to the street ahead, senses on full alert as shadows take shape in his sharp vision. A man lies on the ground, feebly trying to curl into himself despite the cordon of soldiers kicking and beating him from all sides. It still doesn’t make sense to Charles that the Netherlands has remained a neutral nation in the war even after being invaded and suffering Nazi occupation.

Seb sighs sadly. “Have they no basic decency?”

“For someone out past curfew, that looks more merciful than an interrogation chamber.” Charles replies. Even though they only roam the streets and countryside at night, whispers of the Dutch Resistance surround them – a thin thread of hope that still manages to hold the country together.

“Well, we won’t let that happen, either.” Seb says as he turns a confirming glance on Charles. “Shall we?”

Charles nods in helpless agreement. “I am a little hungry.”

They move together, swift as shadows and just as silent, just as deadly. Bones snap, blood warms their bellies, and screams die before they can begin. It never takes them long, and this time is no exception. It comes easier to Charles now – acting with aggression against the aggressors – but it’s still not his natural inclination.

Licking the blood from his lips, he glances down at the young man still curled up on the ground. His breathing comes in ragged, uneven draws – his chest rattles, even. The smell of rich, hot, dark blood permeates the air even above the scents of the dead soldiers, and the young man’s face is bruised and bloodied to match his expression of agony.

“H-h-help...” The words are just barely audible and laden with great effort.

Seb sighs with regret. “We’re not able to save you.”

Bright blue eyes flash beneath swollen eyelids, full of pain and fear. “No-o… please. I –” The Dutchman’s voice chokes off on a gurgling cough and blood flows past his lips.

Charles’ heart breaks as he stares down at the dying man. “I was wrong. There’s nothing merciful about this.” He crouches down and gently cups the man’s strong jawline, stroking his thumb over an angry cut, trying to impart any comfort that he can. Beneath the injuries and blood, the man is undeniably handsome with a strong, sturdy build. Maybe that’s why he’s still alive now. He’s a fighter… and maybe… just maybe that’s why he risked being outside after curfew.

The Dutchman’s breathing turns faint and wheezing, and Charles knows the window is closing. “I want to help him.” He says, turning to glance up at Seb.

Seb’s brows furrow curiously. “You want to help him…? Help him as in…"

Unease pits in Charles’ gut. “Turn him. Like you turned me.”

“He’s practically a dead man – you can smell it.” Seb shakes his head. “Mortals die all the time… you’ve seen it before.”

“And I haven’t asked to save a single one of the countless many that I have witnessed. I’m just asking…” he trails off, glancing back down, unable to explain why he’s so drawn to this man. “I’m just asking about this one.”

“You are still so young -”

“And I’ve gotten better with my thrall, with my control – even my finesse. I’m learning to let go of my ‘mortal construct’ as you call it, and now I’m asking you – will you help me with this?”

Seb folds his arms across his chest in silent contemplation as the Dutchman’s weak breathing wheezes between them. “Where do you think this will go, Charles? If you turn him, then what?”

Charles’ lip curls in a frustrated sneer. “Did you ask yourself that question before you ambushed me in the woods? Tell me, where did you think it would go with me, hmm?” He fixes Seb with a hard stare. “Or was I really just too pretty for you to resist?”

A tense moment hangs in the air before Seb drops his arms to his side. “We’ll have to guide him – you’ll have to teach him.”

Relief sparks in Charles’ chest. “Yes… yes, I can do that. And I will.” He turns back to the Dutchman, trailing down to the slope of his neck. His pulse weakly flutters beneath Charles’ fingertips, and Charles hopes he’s not too late.

Seb kneels beside him, curling his hand over the back of Charles’ as they gently trace over the main artery together. “Just there,” Seb whispers as Charles leans down, inhaling the Dutchman’s scent deep into his lungs as his lips buss the tender skin.

Charles’ fangs pierce the skin, and a delicious coppery tang rushes over his tongue as Seb softly continues. “And, now… just listen for the heart to stop.”

Series Main List

Tag List: @fictional-l0v3r

#f1 rpf #f1 fic #f1 fandom #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #george russell #george russell fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #george russell x reader #george russell x you #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz fanfic #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 au #formula 1 #f1 #vampire au

[randomfoggytiger]

Scully and Matters of the Heart: S1-4

Scully's thoughts on love and relationships.

Fire

So, she shows up knowing the power she has over you and then she makes you walk through fire, is that it? ...Mulder, are you sure you don't need me to help you out on this one?

Gender Bender

Hard to imagine in this day and age someone having sex with a perfect stranger.

Lazarus

We dated for almost a year.... But it was always hard for Jack to relax, it was impossible for him, really. He was always so intense, so relentlessly determined.

Tooms

Mulder, I wouldn't put myself on the line for anyone else but you.

One Breath

Mulder? I had the strength of your beliefs.

Firewalker

["He stopped taking his pills. Yeah, he said that they were polluting his brain. And, he said I was polluting his body.... I just want to go home, now."]

Where's home?

["Anywhere but here."]

Aubrey

Things must be difficult for you now. I've had... feelings for people I've worked with. Inner-office relationships can be complicated-- especially when he's married.

Fearful Symmetry

["Whatever... connection he and I had was over long ago."]

But you asked him, anyway. To help you.

D.P.O.

Well, you don't have to be afraid anymore. You and your husband are safe as long as we can count on your testimony.

The List

Woman gets lonely. Sometimes she can't wait around for a man to get reincarnated.

2Shy

You're more than a monster: you didn't just feed on their bodies, you fed on their minds.

War of the Coprophages

Her name is Bambi? ...Her name is Bambi?

Syzygy

["Must be Detective White."]

If that's the reason we're sticking around, that's your business.

Jose Chung's From Outer Space

["...For, although Diana Leski is noble of spirit and pure at heart, she remains, nevertheless, a federal employee."]

Avatar

["He lives under this misguided notion that silence is strength. He's built a wall to keep everyone out."]

Including you?

["Especially me."]

Is that why you were separated?

Home

["I can tell you don't have no children. Maybe one day you'll learn the pride... the love."]

Unruhe

Why did your sister kill herself, Gerry? What did your father do to her?

The Field Where I Died

["Dana, if um... early in the four years we've been working together, an event occurred that suggested or if somebody told you that we'd been friends together... in other lifetimes, always... would it have changed the ways we looked at one another?"]

Even if I knew for certain, I wouldn't change a day.

Paper Hearts

["You do this full-time-- telling people this kind of news?"]

No, sir, not full-time.

El Mundo Gira

He didn't kill her, Mulder.... Mulder, I know you don't want to hear this, but I think the aliens in this story are not the villains but the victims.

Never Again

This circle: it usually starts when an authoritative or controlling figure comes into my life; and part of me likes it-- needs it, wants the approval-- but then at a certain point along the way I just... y'know.

Memento Mori

For the first time, I feel time like a heartbeat: the seconds pumping in my breast like a reckoning. The numinous mysteries that once seemed so distant and unreal threatening clarity in the presence of a truth entertained not in youth but only in its passage. I feel these words as if their meaning were weight being lifted from me, knowing that you will read them and share my burden as I have come to trust no other. That you should know my heart-- look into it, finding there the memory and experience that belong to you, that are you-- is a comfort to me now as I feel the tethers loose....

Kaddish

And through all this he hid the ring?

["Even after the war, he hid it. Even from my mother."]

Why?

["Because to him it was a dead relic from a forgotten place. Until the day I told him I was getting married; and for the first time in fifty years, he took out this ring. He said he felt his village was being born again. He knew how much I loved Isaac."]

Unrequited

Mulder, what she has is a simple... hemorrhage brought on by her emotional state.

Max

["Can I buy you a drink?"]

No, it's okay-- I'm with somebody.

Synchrony

Lisa, if you're leaving anything out-- if you're hedging the truth, you could be held accountable if Jason committed a crime.

Small Potatoes

No, I'm seeing a whole new side of you, Mulder.

["Is that a good thing?"]

I like it.

Elegy

I mean, maybe in some drug-addled way she was trying to kill happiness-- Harold's happiness. His love for those women. Trying to destroy something she never thought she'd have again.

Demons

["Why shoot herself and her husband?"]

I can't say definitively; but judging from an almost identical suicide... I believe that the victims were suffering....

Gethsemane

Hey, look, just because I haven't bared my soul to you or to Father McCue or to God doesn't mean I'm not responsible to what's important to me.

["To what? To who? This guy Mulder?"]

Thank you for reading~ Enjoy!

#txf #meta #xf meta #mine #Scully #xfiles #x-files #the x files #S1 #S2 #S3 #S4

[theladyofdeath]

Better or Worse {19}

Nessian. Angst. Modern AU.

@snelbz x @theladyofdeath collab

Better or Worse Masterlist

A/N: Two more chapters! Thank you all for sticking along for the journey. Enjoy!

The weeks have passed by quickly and in less than twenty four hours I’ll be standing at the altar with my husband, renewing our vows.

Throwing a ceremony together so quickly has been exhausting, especially considering my book released last week, but I’ve actually enjoyed the chaos. My sisters have helped tremendously, even in the moments that I’ve insisted that I didn’t need their help. Nonetheless, tomorrow's success will go to them. We’ve all worked hard as hell, which is why the three of us are currently dressed in our finest and sitting on the rooftop of one of Velaris’ most prestigious restaurants. 

While Cassian, Azriel, and Rhysand are surely at some shithole bar, the three of us decided on a little class in celebration of tomorrow.

As the server fills our glasses and leaves the remainder of the bottle of wine in an ice-filled chiller, Feyre raises her glass in a salute. “I know toasts usually come at the end of the night, but we’ve never been the most conventional bunch. Nes, you and Cassian have been the pillar of strength for our group for so long. When shit gets hard, the two of you are the ones to step up and handle it. Your marriage is no different. Things may have gotten rough for a bit—” I roll my eyes at her understatement, but can’t pull the smile from my lips if I try. “But you didn’t let that break the two of you, you didn’t let that tear you apart like so many others would have. You never gave up on your love, on each other, and I’m so glad we get to celebrate that tomorrow.”

I clear my throat to push away the flood of emotion and we clink our glasses together. “Thank you. But the real toast should be for the two of you because if I had to plan this damn thing alone, I would have died.”

They laugh but it’s no joke.

I think it may have killed me.

Although tonight is supposed to be all fun and games, we go over our checklist one last time. We’ll have to get to the venue early tomorrow and finish decorating, but it shouldn’t be too bad.

“Is it weird that I’m nervous?” I ask, fiddling with the stem of my wine glass. “I mean, we’re already married, but this feels different.”

“I don’t think it's weird,” Elain says, cheeks already pink from the wine. “I think it’s nice. It just means that it means a lot to you.”

“I bet Cass is just as nervous,” Feyre says, chiming in. “And just wait until he sees you in your dress. I’ve never seen anything so sexy and elegant in my life.”

I grin. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t been dreaming about Cassian's reaction when he sees the dress I bought. “Having to make it through the entire ceremony and reception is going to be torture for him, and I can’t wait.”

“Sadist,” Feyre mumbles, and Elain chokes on her last drop of wine.

She’s not wrong. The sheath of lace fits me like a second skin, the only ornamentation the occasional pattern of intricate beading and the sweetheart neckline dips just low enough to be alluring without being obscene. The lingerie I’ll be wearing beneath it is another story entirely.

Reaching for the bottle, I refill each of our glasses, setting it down at the edge of the table when it’s empty. “Listen, if he isn’t feral by the time we get home, something has gone horribly wrong.”

Home, because we aren’t going on a second honeymoon. We aren’t taking a trip or going anywhere, that’s not what this renewal was about. Sure, we’re having the ceremony and the party afterwards, but it’s to celebrate us.

Home, because there’s nowhere else we’d rather go and no one else we’d rather be with.

The food is earth shattering. By the time we’re done eating, I’m so full that I can hardly move. Cassian will be jealous that I ate so luxuriously without him, but it was too delicious for me to care. I feel a slight buzz from the wine, but nothing too daunting. I feel carefree and completely excited. 

With our empty plates in front of us, Elain asks, “Any news on the adoption front? You haven’t mentioned it in a couple of weeks.”

“We have a meeting with an agency set up for next week, actually,” I say, almost hesitantly, which earns two sets of worried glances in my direction. I shake my head. “I just kinda wanted to see how it went before mentioning it, I guess. I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

Mine included. I have learned through my struggles with infertility that nothing is to be expected.

Elain reaches over and squeezes my hand. “We only want to be there for you. We’re here with you both on this journey, Nesta.”

Knowing that was the point of telling our family about our past struggles, I nod. “I know, and we've been talking a lot about it for the last couple of weeks, Cass and I. I’m getting…excited.”

The agency we’ve been in touch with works mostly with young, unwed mothers in Velaris who aren’t ready for a child. They know that there are loving families, like us, who would do anything to find that missing piece and they help connect the mothers and families. There’s no guarantee we’d meet the mother, as some women opt for closed adoptions, but we don’t care either way.

We haven’t even been approved to work with the agency yet, so I try not to get ahead of myself.

“We’re meeting with them at their office and if that goes well, we’ll have a home visit a few days after that.”

“A home visit?” Feyre asks, eyebrows rising. “That seems a bit quick.”

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be,” I reply, swirling the wine in my glass. “This is to see if we even get accepted into the program. I’m sure there are going to be plenty of things we run into in this process that are frustrating, but it’s all going to be worth it in the end.”

“I think it’s beautiful that you want to adopt,” Elain says, eyes misty once again from those mom-of-infant hormones. 

We leave soon after and take a walk around the city before I’m back in my car, driving home. I love spending time with my sisters and I’m thankful for all that they’ve done, but I can’t wait to get home, can’t wait to get in bed. The sooner I’m home, the sooner I’m asleep, the sooner tomorrow will be here. 

Once I’m home, the house is dark and quiet. Greg is sprawled out on the couch and hardly stirs as I pass him to head upstairs. I’m not sure what time Cassian will be home but hopefully it isn’t too late. If he’s drinking, which I have no doubt he is, he needs time to sleep it off before the morning.

We’re not twenty-one anymore.

I sneak a peek in my office where my dress is hanging on full display so that the wrinkles are all out. Cass has been banned from this room and he’s done very good at avoiding it like the plague. He won’t be seeing me in this beauty until tomorrow. 

After I shower, I throw on one of my favorite t-shirts, one of Cassian’s, and brush my teeth and hair before sinking into bed. I just open my newest read when the front door opens and closes. It’s not long after when I hear a bang, clatter, Greg’s pissed off noise, and Cassian’s string of filthiest curses.

Maybe I should’ve left a light on.

I hear noises from the kitchen, noises that sound suspiciously like pots and pans being pulled out. I wait, listening, my book open on my lap, waiting for him to come to bed. Then I hear the microwave open and close.

Sighing, I throw the blankets back and head downstairs, making sure he hears me as I descend into the living room.

I hear a cabinet slam followed by another barked curse. Entering the kitchen, I lean a hip against the table and cross my arms, taking in the carnage around me.

The perks of having a chef for a husband: he makes delicious food for every anniversary, birthday, party, you name it.

The cons of having a chef for a husband: he makes questionable food when he’s drunk.

There’s a pot on the stove, pasta boiling away, while a pan filled with an unknown brown sauce simmers nearby. His trusty colander is already in the sink, waiting to be used, while he’s on his hands and knees, digging through the cabinets, looking for something. The microwave beeps, letting us know its contents are ready to be removed. He doesn’t even hear it.

I cross my arms and wait, thinking he’ll realize I’m here eventually. After another minute, listening to the microwave beep as it reminds us it’s done, I ask, “What are you looking for?”

A loud thump carries through the kitchen as Cassian bangs his head on the underside of the shelf he was searching through. He scrambles backward, which is honestly comical, before getting to his feet and facing me.

He freezes as his eyes rove over my body, taking in the t-shirt and the fact that I’m wearing nothing underneath it. “Mother’s tits, you’re so fucking hot. I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

I smirk, welcoming the praise, but just then the microwave beeps again and he gasps. “Cheese toast.”

Blinking, I wait, making sure I heard him right.

Sure enough, he pulls a plate out of the microwave, consisting of two pieces of sandwich bread with cheese melted over it.

“Hungry?” I ask, chuckling as he tears into the cheese toast.

“Carbs,” he replies around a mouth full of cheese and bread, pointing a flailing arm at the pasta boiling on the stove, as if that explains it all. “Need carbs so I’m not hungover tomorrow.”

“You know another way not to be hungover?” I tease, sauntering over to him. “Don't drink your weight in liquor.”

“Baby, if I drank my weight in liquor I’d be dead,” he says, shoving the rest of the toast that’s not really toast in his mouth. “Have you seen me? I’m gigantic.” 

“Mhmm.” I’m close enough to him now that I brush his hair out of his face. “Where did those idiots take you?”

“The bar.”

I laugh, quietly. “I can tell that much. Which one?”

“Rita’s,” he croons. “They told her I’m renewing my vows tomorrow, and she gave us a free round of shots…multiple…multiple free rounds of shots.”

“Explains the whiskey on your breath,” I chuckle. “Well, I’m glad you had fun. Eat your noodles and come to bed.”

“You’re not staying?” He frowns. “Stay. Eat.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s after midnight. I’m old. I’m tired.”

“You’re not old, you’re…sexy in my shirt.” He grabs the old, thinned fabric and pulls me back towards him, but before he can make his move, the water boils over on the stove.

The words that come out of this man…I married a sailor. 

Despite being three sheets to the wind, Cassian is able to clean up quickly and salvage his meal. He plates his pasta and pours his sauce over it, which is a mix of barbecue sauce, honey, and orange marmalade, and smells much better than it has a right to. Just as I’m about to head upstairs, I pause to drop a kiss to the top of his head, telling him to hurry up, but his arms snake around my waist, pulling me down into his lap.

“Stay with me,” he grumbles, pressing his lips to my neck. “Please?”

“Eight o’clock is going to come super early,” I grumble, leaning back into his embrace.

With his free arm, he twirls the pasta on a fork and takes a big bite. “Sure as fuck is.”

We stay like that until he finishes eating, clearing his plate. I stand to take it to the sink, but as soon as I’m on my feet, he’s sweeping me into his arms.

It’s romantic, but with how much he’s had to drink, likely ill-advised.

“You better not fall down the stairs while you’re carrying me,” I threaten as he heads up to our room.

For a moment, he wavers, but just as I gasp he starts to laugh and straightens himself.

“Just kidding.”

I smack him on the arm which only seems to bring him more joy as he reaches the second floor landing and pads down the hall and into our room. He doesn’t drop me on the bed but brings me into the bathroom with him instead. He sets me on the vanity before pulling his shirt over his head and taking off his belt, giving me one hell of a show.

He knows I’m watching and he loves it, both of us shameless. 

After brushing his teeth and washing up, he kicks off the remainder of his jeans and scoops me up, yet again.

“Your hair is still a mess,” I grumble, my lips pressing against his shoulder.

“Sexy mess or disgusting mess?” He asks, and now that the alcohol is beginning to wear off, I can tell he’s exhausted. 

“Somewhere in the middle,” I say, and he chuckles as he lays me down in bed and crawls up behind me, wrapping me in his arms.

His body is warm, safe, my own personal haven. I don’t even think he realizes it, don’t even think he knows the magnitude of what his arms around me brings. I melt into him and close my eyes, sighing contentedly.

“Remember the night before our wedding?” He whispers into the darkness.

Laughing softly, I nod. “Yes, but I’m surprised you do.”

If I thought Cassian was drunk now, it was nothing compared to the state he was in when showed up on my doorstep at three in the morning. More specifically, the doorstep of my father’s house, where I was staying with my sisters that night. Feyre and Elain were both still in high school and I was never the best at making friends, so rather than going out and getting drunk the night before I got married, I hung out at home with my sisters.

Cassian, on the other hand, hung out with his brothers in our brand new apartment off campus and got trashed, thanks to one of the older guys in his fraternity buying them whatever they wanted as a wedding gift.

Rhys and Az had passed out in the living room and Cass decided it would be a good idea to come see me. So he called a cab and then he was there, drunk and stumbling and making so much noise that I’m sure my father heard him sneaking in. We fell asleep, just like this, in each other’s arms, just like we did every night. We didn’t care about any old wives tales about staying apart the night before. We wanted to be together, so that's what we did.

My father was not thrilled the next morning when he woke up and found Cassian sitting at the breakfast table.

“Dad was pissed.” I can’t help but laugh. “I knew without a doubt at that moment that I was making the right decision, marrying you.”

He hums. “Were you doubting it before my drunken escapade?”

“No,” I say, and run my fingers across the arm that’s slung around my waist. “But that just proved my feelings right. Validation.” 

He kisses the back of my neck. “I didn’t think I could love you more than I did back then. Didn’t think it was possible. But I do. I love you more now than I did then, and I’ll love you more tomorrow than I do today.”

I swallow as my eyes line with tears. “Save it for your vows.”

He huffs a laugh. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. My vows are way more romantic than that.”

I can’t wait to hear them, can’t wait to stand with him hand in hand and celebrate our marriage after all that we have overcome. As I drift off into a deep sleep, I once again know, without a doubt, that Cassian is my one and only, the other half of my soul, my lifelong partner and my best friend. 

I don’t know what I did to be this damn lucky.

#nessian #nesta #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #modern au #marriage au #fanfic #fanfiction #snelbz x theladyofdeath collab #sjm

[puppyguppy]

The teacher's lounge is blissfully quiet and seemingly empty when the door shuts and locks with a click behind you. There's no one sitting at the computers, the couches are unoccupied, and the coffee machine is still and cold. You'd come in search of a reprieve, and can't help but sigh and sag with relief upon finding it.

Sometimes the teacher's lounge is just as bad as anywhere else.

Just as bad as the classrooms, the cafeteria, the gymnasiums. Just as bad as the library, the courtyard, the hallways. Just as bad as the bathrooms.

You love your job, you really do.

But sometimes you wonder if you shouldn't have sough employment elsewhere. Maybe at a more normal highschool. Or, maybe even for a lower grade. Maybe one before quirks start manifesting in most children. Not that quirks are a problem.

It's just that, when combined with big dreams and budding hormones, it tends to be a bit...much.

You don't know how the rest of the staff does it.

Granted, almost every other staff member is also a Pro-Hero. Which isn't to say teaching is any easier for any of them, but they sure do seem to handle the stress of it a whole lot better than you can. Do. Ever will. And all you are is an assistant.

Then again, you are Aizawa's assistant.

And his class is...it's something else.

Which is why you've gone and run off to the teacher's lounge. You adore the kids, you really do! For the most part! As much as you can, anyways. Considering none of them are really yours and they're constantly making Aizawa's life, and subsequentially your life, something close to a living hell.

You've considered resigning. You know there's an ample amount of other schools that would probably happily scoop you up. And, maybe if it was earlier in the year, you would have. But, that was before...

Oh.

Well.

That was before you met the puffy, yellow, man-sized lump apparently hiding behind one of the couches. Aizawa.

Or, here, behind closed doors, Shouta.

Sometimes.

It's not a surprise to see him there.

Not in the lounge, or on the floor, with his favorite sleeping bag zipped all the way up to his heavy and slightly bruised eyes closed. He practically lives in the lounge; spends more time in here than the classroom or his own apartment. He's obviously squeezing a nap in, for as long and deep as he can. And you can tell he's asleep, really asleep, because his mouth is just slightly open.

After working with him for as long as you have, which really isn't long, but long enough -- you know that when he sleeps, he breathes in through his mouth and out through his nose. Like even when unconscious, he's subconsciously still trying to meditate. Trying to relax.

Trying to do the same thing you are.

It's precious.

And a little pathetic, but you know better than to ever admit that out loud.

You teeter on your feet for a second, while he continues to sleep and split his breathing. You think that maybe you should leave, that maybe you'll get lucky and find some other pocket of tranquility somewhere. You don't want to pop this one. But, he hasn't woken up yet, so you figure it's probably safe to stay. It's not like you're going to make a whole lot of noise, anyway -- sitting on the couch and filling out some forms. One part of your job is keeping track of each individual student's quirk record; obvious strengths, weaknesses, growths, injuries, incidents. It's exhausting work, but work better done by you, so that Shouta can actually work with those kids and their quirks.

When you pick a spot on a sofa, Shouta doesn't even twitch. And when you pluck the pen from behind your ear and start scrawling away, the sound of scratching ink is barely any louder than his own breathing. Feeling confident that you won't wake him up, you settle into your work.

Anyone else coming into the lounge is, sadly, out of your control.

You get through updating about three forms when the sound of shifting fabric snags your attention. You peer around the couch across from you, just far enough to see that yes, Shouta is still sleeping, he's just moved around a bit. You hold your breath, and watch as a wrinkle that formed in his nose slowly soothes itself away. The zipper of his sleeping bag now runs down the length of the front of his body, instead of the side. You reckon it's more comfortable that way, and you wonder if he's dreaming. And if so, what he's dreaming about.

It's a curiosity that's often hard to quell, since that's your thing after all. Your quirk. The reason you even landed the job that you did. You can see people's dreams, and then project them. Furthermore, you can sometimes even influence them, with a strong bond and some practice. You aren't anything close to a qualified therapist or counselor, but...heroes suffer nightmares. Every single one of them. And, the idea is that - the hope is that -- you can help them. With that. Their bad dreams. Their nightmares. Their night terrors. Prevent sleep paralysis and insomnia and panic attacks. You haven't tried yet, not with a single student, but you'd had to prove yourself to Principal Nezu during your interview. He'd been impressed and pleased.

And Shouta had been intrigued.

For now, you've just been working as an assistant, and building rapport with the students. After all, the stronger and healthier the bond, the more you'll be able to help. And you want to help, you do. Even if you don't necessarily...like using your quirk. It always feels like an invasion of privacy, even with blatant permission and consent. People can't help what they dream. Sometimes they want to know, and you have to figure out how to tell them. Sometimes you don't want to tell them. Sometimes they don't ask, and it's better that they forget, which they usually do.

You, on the other hand?

You never forget.

At least not quickly.

Not without a drink or two and a damn good distraction.

Does Shouta suffer nightmares? Surely he does. But, you hope that on the rare occasion he actually reaches REM, like he might be reaching now, that he doesn't. If he dreams at all, you hope it's a good dream. But, what would a good dream look like for him?

...cats, probably. Lots and lots of cats. And having a body that was more blood than caffeine. Or, maybe having the body of a cat. Maybe a good dream for Shouta involved some fur and a long tail and a good sunny spot to soak in. You laugh silently as you picture it. Yeah, you could see that.

#aizawa x reader #aizawa x y/n #gender neutral reader #aizawa shouta #not based on a tiktok but something so much worse #will be working on this throughout the night