#I have a feeling the women around him knew

[corollaservant]

Night in the Net // Shigaraki x f! reader (18+)

⟡ Synopsis: You find yourself stranded in one hell of a sexist environment: the small town's internet café. Shigaraki's on the night shift. (3.6k)

⟡ Warnings: sex with Shiggy basically, mild degradation and misogyny from our fav incel, dom!Shiggy with a twist (no quirk obviously), use of “dollface” (i like it)

⟡ A/N: No dark themes here, peace n luv. Also.. yeah he is always linked to some gaming/electronic business ik!! but I like the trope/hc/almost canon.

You'd never imagine this was how your night would end.

Why are you there again? Right, your friends wanted to go to that after party, as if the club wasn't enough. What was supposed to be a night out ended up with you in the local internet café (the only after hours spot) while your friends decided to go to a house party with loud techno music, which definitely wasn’t your vibe. You and your friends lived close and would often call a taxi on your way home, money wasn’t enough for you to ride solo today though—you prayed in times like these that you at least had a job; you wouldn’t have to rely on anyone then. 

You knew pretty much everyone there, it’s not like the town had more than ten thousand residents and considering the age group and schools you’d all gone to, the internet café only had a few unknown members. On today’s shift was none other than Tomura of course, that guy was taking up as many shifts as his body would allow him to, apparently there was this rumor a family member was in crucial condition and they were in need. Tomura Shigaraki was one of these people you had branded as incel. Though hardworking (he kept a house of his own, cleaning and doing all chores by himself while providing for whomever he had), you still considered the guy as one. Now—you know the term is heavy, matter of fact, quite offending and serious as an allegation but it’s not like there weren’t rumors. Rumors he’d bash women and call them prostitutes, try to sleep with girls and trash them to his friends a day later, hating them for anything they did and claiming true love didn’t exist nowadays because “all women are sluts, who need money and validation.” Plus, he worked at the local internet café (should be enough reason), engaging in heated conversations with his friends and fellow streamers. God, one look in their chats and you'd get as violent as possible— (not much, you'd discovered it the hard way). Thus, it was no surprise that when you enter the place, you hear whispers and scoffs.

‘’The hell are you doing here?’’ A voice was heard from within, the café had the computer screens up front, a bar and a couch with TV in the back. Tomura was occupied in the designated bar the place had (you often wondered what kind of needs these people had—all they ever consumed was energy drinks and pre-packaged meals, takeouts were for reasons of competitive market prohibited). You take a deep breath.

‘’Just dropping by for a couple of hours, will leave soon.’’ You sigh as you take a seat on the couch, not bothering to talk to anyone, it wasn’t like they cared anyway. Loud noise and laughter can be heard all around, a couple of guys swearing and some younger boys excitedly standing above their screens. The store had a 16+ policy, but of course, no one ever checked so kids could practically stare unattended. Tomura also encouraged younger boys to play, such a piece of shit, you think, getting them to learn young. 

‘’Oh my fucking God, a slut just joined!’’ You hear from the front, some guy swears, presumably because a girl had joined their online server. These guys were so disgusting, you cringe, it was no wonder they were celibate without wanting it. You stand up, you need to kill some time and you're feeling bored, you think about starting a fight with Tomura, how else could you have a little bit of fun?

You weren’t ever necessarily afraid of the guy, even though you have to admit, he looks intimidating. Quite tall with a pale complexion, ashy dull hair and scars across his face; no one actually knew much about him and whether he was troubled, it’s not like he ever showed to work beaten up or high and usually kept a low profile. The only frightening thing this man had was his smile, it terrified you sometimes as it looked downright evil. 

‘’Getting them to learn young, huh?’’ You ask him, he’s washing up some cups from the previous round of gross gaming guys, who have now left.

‘’What?’’ He responds, not bothering to look up. 

‘’How to not get women, I mean.’’ You sigh as he huffs  in annoyance.

‘’You should be grateful I let a female in my store in the first place.’’ He retorts, but doesn’t seem very angry, just ironic. Usual.

My store (you decide to skip over 'female') sounds funny but you choose not to comment on it. 

‘’So how long until you guys close?’’ You ask, not bothering to fight his vocabulary—it’s routine at this point. It also never ends well and you had a great night so far, why ruin it now?

‘’Two hours.’’ 

‘’Mind if I sit on the couch? I’ll be quiet I promise’’ You ask—technically beg, as you see no other options.

‘’Ugh.. yeah I mind. There’s some guys wanting to use it, I have a group for GTA on the PS5.’’

‘’Seriously? People still play that?’’ You whine but force yourself to continue.

 ‘’Can I sit with you then?’’ It takes strength—but you say it regardless. You came to terms with the fact he was your last resort minutes ago.

‘’Sure. But you need to make yourself useful. Here, take this.’’ He hands you a wet sponge, ‘’Wash these up—carefully, while I go clean the floors.’’ He orders, as if you’re part of the staff (and new on the job apparently.)

‘’Do you actually want me to wash freaking dishes? I just came here to chill, I don’t even bother anyone!’’ You start feeling annoyed with the chores, you aren’t 16 and he isn’t your mom.

‘’You can always leave.’’ He simply states, the running tap stops and he turns to you, practically shoving the wet gloves on your chest. 

‘’Or...you can stop being a brat and be of use during your stay, I have two hours left.’’ He smiles, that same smile that makes your skin crawl and blood boil as he moves away.

‘’Fuck! My dress, you asshole!’’ A wet patch is now covering the too short dress as you glance at the time on your phone. 

Two hours. Two hours until your friends leave and he closes up anyway.

-

Tomura was at least true to his words. Within two insufferable hours of having to listen to appalling conversations between men (hardly to be considered as such), plate washing and the toilet being constantly occupied, the last customers get up to leave. 

You dry your hands and plop down the couch exhausted.

‘’Finally.’’ You exhale checking your phone, your friends hadn’t given you any life signs in the meantime, so you decide to patiently wait, they’d message eventually. Tomura is done sweeping the nasty floors from crumbs and dried Monster remnants, which he still has to mop (for the fourth time, you note and you've only been there some hours). You notice how restless he seems—the guy has been running the whole night after ignorant customers, who had not once shown basic respect for the order of the place yet never complained. Truly a shame he has such a misogynistic mindset, you think. He could get women, if he wanted to. 

It’s around 6:30 AM, when he presses a button to close the store's roll-up shutters halfway. Small light outside makes its way in but the place is still relatively dark, as he places the mop near the wall and takes a seat next to you.

‘’Fuuck, I’m so tired.’’ He sighs, making sure to spread his legs on the couch as much as he can, not caring (of course) about you also sitting on it. 

You always branded Tomura as an incel, that you knew about. But despite that, you now can’t help but feel for him, not knowing much about him at the same time. Sure, he technically isn’t the nicest guy but a look around would show you that he tries enough for a job kicking his ass. You find yourself sympathizing with a man, whose ideals you hate and try to brush these thoughts off.

‘’And why the fuck am I an incel anyway?’’ He asks, his head rests on the couch and his eyes are closed, he is scrunching severely—almost threatening to fall down. And he manspreads. A lot.

‘’W-well– I..’’ You never thought he’d caught on to that, stammering to stand your ground as you continue. ‘’Well, there have been rumors about you.’’ You say, but it doesn’t come off as confident as you’d hoped for. You also realize, it sounds kind of stupid.

‘’Reaaally? And you made sure to believe them, right?’’ His tone’s laced with irony but the way he talks—like he whispers in a raspy voice doesn't annoy you anymore. It makes you more... uncomfortable? On the edge? Excited?...what?

‘’It’s not like you don’t claim it yourself.’’ You retort, finally finding some courage. You notice him looking at you as you awkwardly shuffle in your seat.

‘’All I’ve ever said was that I think women are good for nothing. And I still believe that, but I wouldn’t waste more of my time on that.’’ The statement makes you roll your eyes.

‘’How can you generalize a whole group of people, who are literally in no way inferior to you, you can’t tell me you’ve tried—’’ 

‘’Listen dollface, unless you want to change my mind there’s no reason to fuss that much, my opinion won’t change.’’

Unless you want to change my mind?

‘’I-I don’t.’’ You stammer, because the answer and pet name (dollface??) takes you by surprise and he laughs.

‘’Relax, you branded me an incel.’’ he jokes, ‘’don’t want the rape allegations on me too.’’ 

The more he talks, the more your mind races and you curse yourself. He seems..funny? He has a mole under his lips—fuck, it looks cute...and he also looks good so (stupid as it was, yes!) you’d lie to yourself, if you say you don't want his attention. Why can’t he just look you in the eyes more?

This is so wrong. He must've noticed your lost gaze as he speaks up.

‘’Wanna watch a movie?’’ He proposes and you silently nod, anything is better than the silence hanging in the air. Silence you caused. For thinking... things about him. 

Of course Tomura ends up choosing the most depressing film anyone can possibly watch in an internet café at 6 AM, Fallen Angels, and the dramatic cuts make it hard for you to concentrate. He at a certain point leans closer to you but you justify it, how else would he be able to see?

During this one scene, the woman pleasured herself with her legs closed, rubbing together and that’s when you felt a soft hand touch on your thigh. The dress you wore rode up, because your legs rested on the table ahead so it gave him the space he needed. The movement made you tingle and your core involuntarily contracted. The smooth fingers teasingly trailed up and down your leg, from your knees to your inner thighs. You didn’t want to look at him—he was too close and the scene seemed endless. But…he went on about it as if nothing was happening. 

Without saying a word, he carried on. A pad of his finger tip was dangerously close to your now heated entrance, the images flashing before your eyes lewd, his hand tempting and threatening to reach your already soaked cunt—all this while the two of you hadn’t even shared a kiss. But he didn't stop, looking ahead and acting like everything’s fine, until he touched your lower lips and you hissed, his finger traced the wet spot over your underwear while you tried to move and speak up. 

‘’W–what are y—’’

‘’Shh..’’ is all he says. 

You want to tell him no. But no to what? You like the feeling of his two fingers against your folds. His palm moves your panties to the side and he stuffs them inside—they dampen from the fluids. How is he that quick? You can’t form a response but you’re about to ask him why—

‘’All that and I haven’t even kissed you.’’ He murmurs, gaze still fixated on the television ahead as you moan, when he slowly pumps them within your walls. Fuck, are you turned on by this?

‘’P-please..’’ You whisper, turning to look at him and for the first time, his eyes are removed from the stupid TV, a sly smile on his features as he tears away his hand.

‘’What is it? Want the incel to kiss you? Maybe even fuck you to prove a point?’’ He says and you frown.

‘’I—no, I have to go.’’ You get up, fixing (lowering) your dress—you have nowhere to go but you’ll figure it out eventually. You think staying longer only plays into his cruel intentions and whilst you can’t deny the pleasure he could give you, your pride’s in the way.

‘’You’re not going anywhere.’’ A wet hand clasps around your wrist and brings you on his lap, as he grins— you seem confused at the sensation. You are hiding the TV screen but he couldn't care less, he never paid attention to the movie.

‘’Feel the stain you left, too?’’ He says as he brings your face closer with the sticky palm grabbing you by the hair. You softly moan, noticing the small mole up close and feeling a bulge poke where your bodies meet. You sway your hips in a silent effort to have him initiate a kiss—you feel desperate and curse yourself again internally. He can only smile.

You were so clueless, prancing around in that slutty dress earlier—making him hard like that, did you even know it?

He’s quick to kiss you, eager for more already, as mouths clash, teeth collide, the need you both have for each other exceeds proper manners. You sloppily grind against him, the friction from a long outline beneath you makes it hard to think.

‘’I’m guessing, you’re really fucking the incel then.’’ He half smirks as he grabs you and repositions you to sit on his now fully hard cock that throbs in his pants; he lifts your dress above your ass and guides your hips sluggishly back and forth— he’s tormenting you and he enjoys it to the fullest.

‘’T-tomura..p-please.’’ You mewl, the urge to have him inside you makes you blabber.

‘’Please what?’’ He slides a hand behind your waist, lowering it to find your slit from behind, his fingers pet your cunt and you moan. Loudly. He is tugging at your panties, the fabric annoys him and he wants full access and the words. The words to prove his point.

‘’P–please.. fuck me already!’’ You breathe out and he groans to the sound of your voice. 

The ironic remark he’d prepared evaporates as he quickly pushes you back, just enough to not fall off his lap and quickly unzips his pants, thanking God for not wearing a belt. 

His pants and underwear are sloppily moved down his knees, as his cock jumps with a pop on his lower abdomen, stiff with a weeping tip. Pretty veins throb around it as your eyes widen.

Shit, he’s big, can you take him?

‘’I’d ask for a nice blowjob, dollface, but wouldn’t want the feminists after me.’’ He says as he brings you close, kissing you yet again, a string of spit runs down your jaw, as your hands roam his tangled, uncombed hair. 

He positions you on his cock, one hand snakes around your waist while the other one clings to the back of your scalp and you’re swiftly lifted by the head and pushed down on him, as you let out a scream.

‘’Shut the fuck up.’’ He hisses, quickly looking around, the sensation from almost his whole length makes you tremble, he feels too full, too painful..too good.

‘’Shit, c’mon now you got this.’’ He encourages as you hesitantly move up and down his cock, gripping his shoulders and looking at him—he seems more concentrated on the sensation than your body, staring at you while you wrap around his length.

‘’Fuck..dollface, this too much for ya?’’ He tries not to grunt and you give your best not to cry, each moment that goes by turning the initial pain to pleasure—your cunt adjusts slowly and bit by bit to his girth. 

‘’T-tomura.. y-yes..it’s too much!’’ You whine, sweat forms in your forehead as his hands find your swollen clit and circle it while your nails dig deeper in his shirt.

‘’You can take it.’’ He says, he feels your cunt squeezing him in, you bounce with dedication on his legs, making the couch squeak as if on some sex tape—you want to bring yourself even closer. So nasty, aren't you? Acting righteous, only to fuck yourself on his cock like a desperate whore.

‘’I-ugh-p-please..’’ You try to speak but he secures his hand around your torso and sinks (lower than before) down the couch. Two strong hands force you to stay still in the air while he drills himself into you at a steady pace—kind of sloppily too. Both of you moan, the position gives equal pleasure, your clit bumps on his groin and his cock reaches your g-spot with ease.

‘’S–Shit, you’re squeezing way too much, haven’t you been fucked like this before?’’ He sounds annoyed but the stammer in his voice betrays him.

Not like this, you want to say but can’t really speak the words. Your weight falls entirely on him, he doesn’t mind one bit—he loves it actually, this skin on skin contact as he guides you on his cock, it feels surreal. He hits soft and spongy spots inside while you slowly fall apart. 

‘’T-Tomura right there..I ugh—I'm close!’’ The sensation overwhelms you, his eyes are still fixated on your face, yeah I can tell, he thinks. He gets off on your desperation, mouth parted all for him? Your eyes threaten to spill by the way he tears apart your cunt and morals bit by bit.. it’s—

‘’Tomura, aren't you closing yet?’’ Someone asks from outside, interrupting the moment. The shutters only show a pair of shoes. 

‘’Yeah, I’m on it.’’ Shigaraki stops composed, cockwarming you in a funny way, while a hand—his hand covers your mouth. Your eyes widen as slick trickles down his thighs in silence.

‘’Alright, see you then.’’ The man leaves and he cusses him out. (''Cunt.'')

‘’We’re not done.’’ He turns his attention back to you and seizes your face, bringing your mouth closer.

‘’Open up.’’ He orders and you do—clenching around him in anticipation.

He spits in it and closes the gap with his index finger. 

‘’Swallow or I won’t continue.’’ You quickly gulp down.

‘’So obedient all of a sudden, aren't you?’’ Sarcasm laces the words as he gives your ass a solid hit, before starting to get back on his pace, only more rough this time, he longs for your release on him. You’re moving up and down his length, trying to grab anything accessible really, his hair, the back of the couch, under his shirt and you feel your orgasm resurface stronger—the delay has highlighted all of your senses.

‘’T-Tomura—’’ You shudder, as his cock hits your g-spot expertly–fuck, this guy wasn't some incel–and your swollen clit has to brush one last time past his groin before you feel an overwhelming orgasm take over. You clamp down his length and moan embarrassingly. (Fuck Tomura! I–I'm.. too good!) This time.. he lets you, he needs to hear this.

‘’Fuuck—agh– look at you dollface.’’ He hums, a feminist creaming herself on my cock, he wants to add but it’s too many words and you just came so he wastes no time. He brings your neck close to his mouth and bites on it, teeth sink into your flesh and hands force you all the way down. He cums inside, groaning and trying to stifle his moans by biting down the sensitive skin even harder. 

And fuck if that isn’t hot.

He keeps you on him, arms fastening your waist, cum dripping on his lowered pants but neither of you bother to care, ragged breaths and the sounds of the film still playing as more light enters through the rolled shutters.

God must’ve been on your side that day because a message appears on your screen moments after you both wordlessly got up and cleaned yourselves in the bathroom. Tomura would have to clean again, you think, as the message on your phone signals your time to leave.

You turn to look at him, he has removed his shirt and small nail scratches decorate his pale back and you..smile. What the hell? Was this..? Oh no—You try to find an appropriate goodbye.

See you soon? Thanks for the mind blowing dick? You aren’t the incel I thought you were? Everything seems embarrassing at present time. 

‘’I-I’ll be seeing you soon.’’ You opt for that, stupid as it is, you still look at him in anticipation. He turns to you, hands on the mop cleaning near the couch and nods. 

Great, you think, that was a disaster. You defeatedly walk (actually stoop to get past the almost closed door) feeling like a hooker after a client, miserable and kind of used. This is always the worst part. 

You feel an arm touch your shoulder, you’ve only taken a few steps in the daylight.

‘’Take this in case you revoke your incel statement.’’

Tomura hands you a piece of paper and quickly disappears behind the store’s shadows.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x you #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura x reader #mha x reader #tenko x reader #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura x reader #tw degradation

[meazalykov]

cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater

barcelona femeni x uswnt!reader

warnings: mentions of betrayal, tiny bit of angst, insecurities

Y/N L/n, an American forward on the Barcelona team had fire in her eyes when she stepped foot on the catalan pitch. 

Leaving behind her life in the States to pursue her dreams in Barcelona was a sacrifice that she didn’t regret. The goals, her skills, and passion increased for football as she got the privilege to play for one of the best women’s clubs in the world. Y/n flourished in Barcelona. But despite her success on the field, her personal life was rocky.

When she left Gotham FC to play for the Catalan club, y/n left behind her boyfriend, Leon. The couple were distraught at the news but y/n promised to visit Leon during international breaks and holidays. At first, she was able to facetime her lover everyday. Guilt plastered on her features during the call sometimes, remembering that the long-distance was because of her decisions, but y/n knew that her career came first. 

Y/N's heart was shattered when she stumbled upon the tweets above which revealed a painful truth: her boyfriend, Leon, had betrayed her trust. The news hit her like a thunderbolt, leaving her reeling with disbelief and heartache. She couldn’t believe it. Not her sweet Leon? Sometimes she trusted the boy more than she could trust herself. 

Without hesitation, she blocked Leon on everything before he had the chance to defend himself. Instagram, Imessage, twitter, facebook, you name it. Y/n was disgusted and couldn’t believe that Leon would betray her, no excuses would make her forgive him. 

The 21 year old girl hated two things. She hated feeling betrayed, and she hated vulnerability. The first one happened to her and she didn’t want to have anybody pity her about what happened. Yes, her two year relationship was flushed down the toilet but she tried her best to forget about it. 

Determined to keep her emotions hidden, Y/N threw herself into her training everyday with even more fire, pushing herself to the limit with every sprint and every launch with her foot that sent the ball behind the nets. However, some of her teammates noticed the change in her demeanor, the way she buried her pain beneath a facade of strength. 

“Y/n what are you doing?” Alexia called out across the grassy pitch. It was 5 in the evening and training ended for the team an hour before. The captain of the team, Alexia, noticed y/n’s familiar gym bag still in the locker room after everyone went home. Observing the younger girl who was dribbling the yellow colored ball with her ivory-colored cleats, she closed the huge space between them and saw the sadness in y/n’s eyes. 

“Oh hi Ale! I'm just training for the game next week. I have to be prepared, you know?” Y/n chuckled to herself. The smile on her face went away when she noticed that Alexia wasn’t laughing with her. 

“You’ve been training for the last three hours. You need rest most importantly.” Alexia said as she looked at y/n’s soft facial features. Something was clearly wrong with the younger adult, but she wouldn’t pester her about the problem until she absolutely needed to. 

“I know. Can I please have 10 more minutes then i will-” 

“No! you need rest. come on” Alexia kicked the ball away from y/n’s feet before holding her arm gently, pulling her into the locker room so y/n would stop overworking herself. 

A week later, at the peak of her game against Eibar, y/n had scored two goals by the time halftime arrived. She's on fire and the crowd was chanting her on for a potential hat-trick. But as the game progresses, so does y/n's exhaustion.

In the 50th minute, she pushes herself a bit too far as she passed the ball towards Mariona. Falling to the ground, her vision goes black for a few seconds before pain shoots up in her lower back. Y/n hisses at the pain as she holds onto her back. Everyone around her knows that she is injured.

"Y/n? What's wrong?" As soon as the girl heard Alexia's feet run up to her and ask that question, y/n relaxes her face and stands up ignoring the pain in her back.

"Nothing, it was just a blow." Y/n looks at Alexia and Patri who stands beside her. The Spanish girls look at each other with a uncertain look before Alexia looks over and yells at their coach Jona, "está lesionada, no puede seguir jugando"

Y/n didn't know much Spanish but she had an understanding on what's happening when she notices her teammate, Esmee, stand up from the bench and start to warm up.

"Ale, I'm okay I promise!" Y/n cries.

"Y/n, we know you're not. Its okay--- You did a great job before this." Patri tries to calm Y/n down.

"You cannot play with a bad back. You aren't playing until the medic clears you!" Alexia gives y/n a stern look.

Despite y/n's protests that she's fine, her coach and teammates, including captain Alexia, are adamant about getting her off the field. Everyone noticed how overworked she was. Some figured out why through social media, others still didn't have a clue.

Y/N is frustrated, not just because of her injury, but because it's a painful reminder of the emotional turmoil she's been going through since her ex-boyfriend's betrayal weeks before. She tried to forget about it but every time she scored a goal, she wished that he was there to congratulate her afterwards.

Each goal reminded her how good she is. After Leon cheated on her with a Washington Spirit winger, she wondered if she was as good as the winger is. Everyone in the soccer world knew that Y/n was miles ahead of the DC player, but insecurities plagued the girl's mind.

Alone in the nurse's room, Y/N lets her tears flow. It's not just the pain of the injury; it's the weight of everything else she's been carrying. The nurse came in and assumed that the crying came from the pain from the girl's back, but y/n had to clarify that it was emotional.

Luckily, another doctor said that her back pain was caused from stress and nothing serious. However, she couldn't play for a few weeks so she could wind down and heal with massage appointments.

Y/n was relieved but felt torn at the idea of not playing until the new year. How is she supposed to occupy her mind from Leon?

An hour later, Y/n heard the door open which revealed Alexia, Ingrid, Esmee, and Frido. All of them entered with hesitation, hoping that Y/n wouldn't kick them out. All of them could see through her facade. They know something deeper was bothering her.

"Hi (reader's nickname), how are you feeling?" Ingrid spoke with a soft voice, sitting beside y/n on the bed as she pulled a piece of hair behind her small ear.

"I'm fine, how was the game?" y/n asked. All of the girls, except for her, look over at Esmee with a smile.

"This girl over here subbed on for you and got a hat-trick. we won 5-0 because of you and her." Frido said. Y/n smiles brightly (for the first time in days) as she looked at her best friend with a shy smile.

"No way! Great job Es!" Y/n hugged the dutch.

"Thank you." Es responded.

"Y/n--- what did the doctor say when she came in?" Alexia spoke up, changing the conversation.

"The doctor said I'll be out for 2-3 weeks." Y/n said. Alexia's eyebrows knitted as she sat beside y/n, opposite side of where Ingrid sat.

"Why?" Alexia asked as she wrapped her arm around Y/n's shoulders.

"She suspects that I've been overworking myself, which is what caused my back blow. I have to go to physical therapy for massage treatments until I am better." Y/n spoke.

"Will you be able to go on international break?" Frido asked as she pulled one of the metal chairs in the room by the bed, she sat down looking at y/n with a sympathetic look. Y/n's eyebrows raised as she realized she had an upcoming friendly with the USWNT.

"I don't think so." Y/n responded.

"Look, we care about you a lot y/n. We've noticed how much you've been overworking yourself. This has never been an issue before, is there something wrong?" Ingrid asked. Everyone noticed the dry tears on her dimpled cheeks, but they didn't want to force the girl to talk.

"Um- I-" Y/n tried to speak before looking at Esmee, who sat at the foot of the bed. The dutch woman looked at Y/n with an urging look. She scrolls online outside of football and came across the source to what might've been hurting her best friend the last few weeks.

"(reader's nickname), is this about Leon?" Esmee spoke up. Y/n flinched at the sound of his name before biting her lip. The older women raised their eyebrows with questions in their minds.

"Yes." Y/n answered before a tear came down her right eye. Alexia wiped it with her thumb before holding the younger girl tightly.

"Niña, did something happen between you and him?" Alexia asks. The blonde never tries to intervene with the team's personal lives, but as a captain it is necessary when moments like this happen. Ale had an idea on who "Leon" was but she didn't know him personally.

"He um--" Y/n coughed. She realized she couldn't say it without breaking down, so she looks at Esmee with permission to speak for her.

"From my understanding, Leon cheated on y/n and started dating one of her old teammates in America." Esmee looked over at Y/n, hoping she explained the situation right. Y/n nodded her head, slowly, showing that Esmee explained the situation perfectly.

"When did this happen?" Frido asked.

"It happened two weeks ago." Y/n whispered. Alexia felt guilty at this news, she knew something was wrong but didn't understand how bad the situation is.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart.. Why didn't you tell us this happened?" Ingrid holds onto y/n's right side and Alexia held onto her left. Y/n started to cry again, realizing she could've avoided her injury if she spoke up about her problems.

"I didn't want to burden you guys with my problems." Y/n responded.

"You're not a burden. We might be your teammates but we are your sisters too. That Leon guy is an asshole and what he did is on him, not on you." Frido spoke as she held y/n's knee.

"Exactly. You're one of the best wingers and what he did to you wasn't because of your performance on the pitch. He is insecure and you deserve better." Ingrid said.

"You can come to us with any problems you have. Or you can come to me if it's personal. You're not alone." Alexia placed her chin on top of y/n's head, still holding onto her.

"I know--- but football was my escape from him. It's not that I didn't trust you guys, but I just didn't want to deal with what happened. As long as I played football and trained, my mind wasn't on him. That's why I've been overplaying." Y/n, in a vulnerable state, spoke up about her mindset on the situation.

"We love you y/n, you'll feel better about this and someday you won't even remember that jerk's name." Esmee spoke up. Y/n giggled at the shy girls statement.

As y/n embraced the comfort from her teammates, she begins to see that her healing now wasn't just physical—it's emotional too. And with her team by her side, she knows she'll come back stronger, both on and off the pitch.

<3

#barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #uswnt x reader #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #fridolina rolfö #frido rolfö

[moondirti]

ghoap x nanny on🔝

they would go bananas trying to find her a Mother’s Day gift because even though she’s not she’s still so important to baby isla

UK mother's day is in march but i'm putting this out for the US folk <3 also not part of the main series! takes place an undefined period of time later, where isla is about 1 yr old, so the end of part 2 doesn't hold weight here

"Stop messin' with it. You'll ruin the wrap job."

"I'm tryin' tae curl th' ribbon. Eejit at the store forgot tae add th' mae touches." Johnny presses his thumb to the blade, tongue poked in concentration as he follows the tutorial. The lady in the video makes it look so easy, dragging her grip along the length of a blue streamer so that it jumps into a little ringlet when she releases. "Ye think women dinnae notice these touches but thay do. I had tae specially instruct th' flower guy up in Glasgow ower th' phone tae make sure he wrapped mah maw's bouquet in brown paper, fur apparently there's a difference."

But all the scot manages to do is slice his thumb open with Simon's knife, blood beading along the wounded site. He jerks away before it can stain the present, popping the digit into his mouth while begrudgingly handing the tools over to his partner.

Who does it with ease.

"Tha' wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Awa' n bile yer heid." Johnny grumbles, twisting his head to check out the window. "She said she'll be back by now."

"Who'll be back by now?"

The sing-song voice catches them both off guard, the pair clambering to hide the subject of their concentration, open-mouthed as you slip out of your pastel yellow galoshes by the door. An impish smile splits your cheeks, positively delighted by the fact that you were able to sneak up on them.

Isla shouts an approximation of your name from her playpen, pulling herself into a stand and waving her little arms around until you swoop in to pick her up. Simon feels his heart race, anticipation coating his palms in sweat as you sway with their little girl bunched in your arms.

"My little Isla-bug! Missed you so much baby." You coo, pressing kisses to her cheek. But Isla isn't interested in greetings. She squeals, legs flailing and finger pointing accusatorially at her fathers.

"Bug! Bug! Da an' Pa!"

"Are Da and Papa bugs too?" Johnny shuffles in place, scratching the back of his neck when you waltz suspiciously towards him. Almost as if you're trying to sniff out the clues the baby lays out for you, like a little detective duo. "Do they have a bug?"

"Yer a wee clipe you." He narrows his eyes at Isla, bumping noses when she giggles at his feigned grumpiness.

"Don't tell me you actually do." You straighten seriously, frowning once you notice the hand Simon keeps behind his back. "Si, I swear to God. I swear to God if that's a bug you're hiding I'll scream. I'll tell Price–"

That does it. He extends the gift before you misinterpret this further and make good on your threat. He can only imagine the awkward phone call with the Captain, who favours you more than he does his own team sometimes. It would not bode over well.

"Happy mother's day, love."

You clamp a hand over your mouth, eyes immediately glossing up in tears.

They discussed who would do this part – this vulnerable profession of how much you mean to them, to Isla. Because you're not her mum. Your name isn't on any of the adoption paperwork. You'd only come into her life when she was five months old, and there's no legal or biological ties linking the two of you together, or you to the boys. Just this human, very fragile bond you've forged over the past year. Something undefined, unnamed, but so magnanimous in its existence that it cannot continue existing without acknowledgement.

And while Johnny felt like the natural choice, Simon knew it'd mean so much more if it came from him. He's the one with the history, after all. The one who denied you a place in their life, again and again. Who wrote off your bids to help and took you for granted until it damn near drove you away for good.

It's clear that it hits you hard.

You pass Isla over to Johnny so as to hug yourself, staving off the waterworks by biting your lip. For a moment, that's all you do. Stand there and stare down at the wrapping paper with all the apples on it, the sleek coiled ribbons. Simon's hand shakes a little, unsure, but then you take it and crush him into a hug so tight, it's almost instinctual to push you off.

He doesn't, of course. Instead, his arms curl around your smaller form, cold fingers warming themselves on the curve of your shoulder.

"Thank you." You sniff from against his chest, then gracefully step back to address Johnny too. "Both of you. I can't– I'm so overwhelmed, I don't know what to say. Can I open it?"

"O' course." Johnny nods, sitting back on the couch and patting the open space next to him. Isla pulls on his overgrown mohawk, but the pain is nothing compared to the joy warming his heart. You're so beautiful like this. Flustered. Emotional. He could just bundle you up and hold you forever.

The bow comes undone with one tug. You take your time with the wrapping paper, though, peeling the tape off gently so it doesn't take off the pattern underneath. Your boys sit on either side of you, arched over like a pair of nervous schoolboys.

"My–"

It's a charm bracelet. Dainty gold links extended to the exact circumference of your wrist. Relatively empty, save for a few exchangeable starter baubles and a ladybug charm that hangs right at the centre.

"Bug!"

You laugh like summer rain. "That's right! It is a bug, clever girl. Can you say ladybird?"

"Lalalalala–"

"She'll get i' soon." Johnny smiles. Simon offers a large hand, slipping the bracelet out of it's box. You give him your wrist, and he clasps it shut around.

"Fits like a glove." He murmurs.

Ladybugs for fortune and grace.

You're their stroke of good luck.

#fic ༄ miss magic #brief spoilers #due to some foreshadowing #fore... backshadowing? #at whats planned for them in the main series #unedited #༄dee answers #simon riley x reader x john mactavish #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap

[shelbygun]

happy birthday, baby

pairing: thomas shelby x fem!reader

summary: thomas always wanted you, and he will claim you on your birthday.

warnings: big ? age gap (reader is 17 and tommy in his late twenties, srry i love age gap), p in v, smut, breeding kink, daddy kink, pet names

a/n: the last fic was short and a little miserable so here I bring you one from tommy (because I love him) a little longer <3 I hope you enjoy it, sorry for the spelling mistakes, english is not my first language!

Thomas always wanted you, ever since you were a cute and naive girl. Since you walked through the town in your flowered dress, which gently rose up every time you ran or played. Or since when you visited his house, looking for his sister Ada to play or do homework. 

He watched you as you talked about boys with Ada, wishing you would stop naming other stupid boys and just think about him. Oh, he hated it so much when he heard you talk about others and not him. 

Although you didn't know it, you were his. Only his. And in that way he took the trouble to scare away any boy who wanted to get close to you, because you were his. In case he didn't notice and saw a boy with you, even a classmate of yours, talking to you or just being close to you, he would send the one of the Peaky Blinders to scare him and threaten him that he shouldn't approach you. 

For your part, you didn't understand why the boys didn't approach you, or sometimes they looked at you with fear. You were a good girl to everyone, you never did anything wrong against anyone, and it seemed strange to you that everyone didn't seem to have the guts to approach you. 

One day you talked about this with Ada, she told you that they might find you a very pretty girl and were afraid that you would reject them. But you didn't buy that opinion, and you were left with doubt. 

Thomas listened to that conversation, and was proud to see that no one approached his girl. 

At the same time, you were hiding a little secret that no one knew, not even Ada. You were in love with his brother, with Thomas. And who doesn't? He was a sexy man, all the women died for him, and you felt lucky when he spoke to you or sat next to you at lunch those days when you stayed at the Shelby's house.

But you thought there was no chance of him hanging out with you, since you always saw him with other women, fucking any prostitute. You felt jealous, and a little sad too. 

But Thomas only had encounters with women because he had to satisfy his needs while you were out of his reach. Even if he was fucking other women, he would always think about you, about how your body would look below his, how your hips would collide while his cock was thrust into your little virgin cunt again and again. He would also masturbate, thinking that the hands that wrapped around his big size were yours, or imagining your pretty little mouth being violated while you took it all in. He was a little fanciful sometimes. 

He promised to wait for you, he fucking promised, but he just couldn't hold back any longer. He had to have you and claim you as his, brand you with the name Thomas Shelby. So now his promise was to wait until your next birthday, when you would turn 17. 

He knew that you were a virgin, -since there was a reason he chased men away from you-, so he wanted that night to be pleasant. He would give you your birthday gift, one that you would really enjoy.

One day before your birthday, he noticed that Ada was baking a cake for you. "She will be with us tonight for her birthday." That was what she said when he asked her about the cake, although he knew well the reason for that dessert. 

After that, he went around the city looking for a nice gift for you. Nothing expensive or luxurious, since he knew you didn't like those things. Something simple and kind-hearted would catch your attention and would be enough to pamper you. 

He bought you a cute and delicate necklace, along with a bouquet of flowers. He was feeling like a man completely lost for you, for your innocence, innocence that he wishes to corrupt. 

He kept your gift in his office for the time being, as he still had work to do regarding the business. The whole time he was sitting at his desk, analyzing documents and signing unimportant papers, he was thinking about how you would look tonight, how your moans will sound, how pretty you will look underneath him, begging for more, for his cock. He was already getting hard just imagining your face of pure pleasure and excitement when you reached your first orgasm, caused only by him.

Hours later, after finishing all his paperwork and being completely free of work, he headed home, where you would be too. When he walked through the front door, he could hear your soft giggles mixed with the delicious aroma of the food you were cooking with Ada and Polly. 

He disassembled, standing a little close to the kitchen, in the perfect position to see you. You were wearing a beautiful white dress, a symbol of your innocence and purity, the characteristics of your personality that drove him crazy. You looked beautiful with your hair down and long, since you never liked short haircuts. 

None of the three of you saw him, nor did they see the bouquet of flowers or the necklace box that were dedicated to you. It was a little secret. 

He walked up the stairs, entering his room and closing the door behind him. He sighed tiredly, dropping your gift on his bed. It was too much for him to see you in that tight little dress and not be able to grab you, touch you, eat you with kisses. 

He was in his room, imagining the possible scenarios for tonight. He thought about masturbating while, but it was highly inappropriate since you were here. He is a respectful man, only to a point.

A knock on his door interrupted him, standing up from his desk, his cigarette in the side of his mouth. He opened it and found you there, standing in front of him like an angel who just fell from the sky. “Hi, Tommy. We're about to start eating, will you join us?" You said in your sweet little voice, looking adorable as you looked at him with your pretty eyes, those eyes that drove him crazy. "Of course, baby. I'll be with you." He responded, eating you with his eyes. You looked completely delicious in that dress. 

The two of you walked down together to the dining room, the table with food and drinks ready. He sat next to you, clearly, and the evening for your birthday began. 

Arthur told bad jokes, John joined in his game, and Polly scolded them. You and Ada laughed at their jokes, childish smiles covering your faces. Thomas was serious as always, from time to time he would give a low laugh or a little grin would appear on his lips, but he was totally focused on you, on how beautiful and edible you looked. He wanted to eat you and taste you. He swore that you were going to taste better than all the food that was on the table. 

He would put his hand on your thigh sometimes, giving you light caresses, as if anticipating what he was going to do to you. You were blushing hard, biting your lower lip. He did this before, caressing you under the table surreptitiously, but today it felt different. 

Before the clock strikes 12, Polly and Ada bring the cake to the table, placing it in front of you. Arthur was looking for a camera, to the sound of "Where's that bloody shitty camera?!" John laughed, amused at seeing his brother renege. Thomas looked at you, and then at the clock. He had the lighter in hand for the candle on the cake. 

Finally, after a few minutes, it was your birthday. The Shelby's sang with you while you blew out the candle, Arthur taking pictures of you with the camera he was looking for and John trying to ruin your face on the cake. Of course he didn't because Polly scolded him, and Ada put too much effort into the cake to ruin it. 

When they came up to greet you and hug you, Thomas was the last to do so. He approached gently, getting close to you. "Happy birthday, baby. I have a gift for you, but I'm not going to give it to you now." He whispered in your ear with his deep, masculine voice, filling your nostrils with his intoxicating aroma. You nodded at his words, looking at him anxiously.  

You were nervous to death, thinking and imagining the gift he had for you. You already had an idea of what it could be, of course, as Thomas has shown more and more the intentions he has for you. Getting closer to you, giving you light caresses when no one was looking. Sneaky but at the same time so predictable. 

After eating cake and Arthur having had a few drinks, babbling nonsense and making the whole family and you laugh, everyone decided to go to sleep. Polly said goodbye to each one with a kiss on the forehead, wishing them good night. John was trying to help Arthur guide him to his room, but the man was so drunk and dumb that he couldn't stand up. You and Ada laughed in amusement at his condition. And Thomas was serious, as always, but this time he wasn't the first to enter his room and lock himself up for the night. No, he waited until Ada was distracted to grab your arm and whisper in your ear. "When Ada falls asleep, come to my room. Understand, babe?" He said quietly.

Now all your blood has risen to your cheeks. You and him, at dawn, alone. It was so obvious what he wanted to do to you, how he wanted to take you. And you bit your lips from nerves, from desire. How long have you waited for this, for him, and were you finally going to have it? Plus, on your birthday. It was going to be a memorable day. 

God, you have heard my prayers, you said internally. 

You walked into Ada's room, looking a little different. She asked you why you seemed so nervous, like waiting for something. You only responded that you were very happy for your birthday and that was enough to convince her. The two of you chatted for a couple of minutes, exchanging giggles from time to time. In your mind you were just praying that Ada would feel tired soon so you could receive your surprise. A few moments later, you heard a yawn from her and she suddenly said she wanted to sleep. Thank you God, you have heard me for the second time.

Both of you lay properly on the bed, with your pajamas on. You said goodnight and turned your backs to sleep. You were waiting patiently for Ada to close her eyes and fall into a deep sleep to leave. You had your eyes open and your mind busy imagining and imagining so you wouldn't fall asleep too. And, like God's third act, a soft but sure snore emerged from her. 

Gently and quietly, you got out of bed and walked out of the room. The wood creaked under your feet with each step you took in the hallway, heading towards the lion's den. You opened Thomas's bedroom door without warning. And you saw him.

He was sitting on his bed, his legs slightly open with his elbows resting on his knees while in his hands he had a bouquet of flowers. On his nightstand, a small velvet box lay. Thomas looked up at the creak of the door, a slight, mischievous smile on his lips. "Ada took a while to fall asleep, eh?" he teased in a low, husky tone of voice. 

You blushed softly, closing the door behind you and standing a few feet away from him. He gave a nasal laugh and stood up from the edge of the bed, approaching you. You had to lift your head a little to look at him properly. "Happy birthday, baby..." he whispered softly, holding the bouquet of flowers in his hands. You smiled sweetly, taking the bouquet and looking happily at the gift he had for you. "Oh, Tommy... it wasn't necessary..." you murmured, looking adoringly at Thomas and the bouquet. 

"It's not the only gift I have for you, love..." he said with a mischievous smile, moving away from you a little to grab the velvet box. "Turn around." He demanded as he approached back. You still had the bouquet in your hands as you turned around, feeling his body stand behind you. Cold metal made contact with the skin of your neck and you saw Thomas's fingers holding a necklace. You stifled a gasp, admiring the metal thread. 

You grabbed the necklace with your hand, smiling contently. You noticed that the letters "TS" were written on the necklace pendant. 

“This is proof that you're mine now, baby…”He whispered in your ear, gently caressing the sides of your body. “You are totally mine, my love. Until the end of the world you're going to be, do you understand, baby?" He manipulated your little head, leaving soft kisses behind your ear. 

And like the good girl you were, you nodded softly, letting yourself be carried away by his pretty words. "I want to make you mine right now, will you allow me, my love?" he asked softly. And again, your little head nodded, allowing him to finally use you. 

He turned you around, making you look into his eyes. He gently grabbed your cheek, bringing his lips to yours and kissing you sweetly. This was your first kiss and he wanted you to enjoy it and remember it in a good way. His tongue barely touched your lips, tempting you to more of him. 

With a gentle grip on your waist, he laid you down on his bed, pulling you under him as you kissed over and over again. He became addicted to your lips, wanting to have his taste attached to yours. His hands caressed your thighs under your pajama shorts, squeezing your delicious flesh a little. 

"Will you allow me, baby?" He whispered in your ear, lacing his fingers in the hem of your cotton t-shirt, asking if he could take it off. With a slight nod, you let your torso be exposed. He was dazzled by your tummy and your pretty breasts that he wanted to squeeze and kiss so much. He did so, leaning his head to your chest and removing your bra, throwing it to the floor. He gently licked the tip of your breast, stimulating the other with his hand. You let out a soft moan, closing your eyes and grabbing his hair, enjoying the new pleasure. 

He played with your nipples a little longer, playing like a little child. "They're so cute, my love. I hope to see them more often..." he teased, giving them one last kiss before lowering his lips to your tummy, letting his breath hit your pelvis covered by the shorts.  

“You can, Tommy. Please do it." You whispered, eager to feel his touches down there, on your virgin cunt. He looked at you softly as he cupped your cheeks. "No more Tommy, my love. From now on, you will call me Daddy every time we are together. Understand, baby?" *That fucking nickname was so provocative for you.* 

“Understood, Daddy." you obeyed, smiling a little, looking adorable, like a sweet, innocent girl. His sweet, innocent girl. 

"That's what I like to hear, pretty baby." He said proudly with a slight smile, placing a kiss on your belly. He gently grabbed the hem of your shorts, and without asking you -since he knew you would say yes- he lowered your garment, leaving you in your panties. 

"So cute, so innocent." He whispered softly, lightly caressing your pussy through the cotton fabric. He admired how you looked so sweet and innocent in just your panties, below him, in his total control. Your breathing hitched a little as you felt his fingers there, biting your lips gently. "Don't be shy, pretty baby." He teased, grabbing your hips. "There will be many more moments to come where I will see you like this." He calmed you down, using his soft, pretty words. 

You calmed down at his touch, although you did get a little nervous. He continued with his work, playing with your covered cunt, smiling a little. He liked to tease you, watching you squirm and moan like a needy kitten. He was just touching you a little to test the waters and then start with what he had planned. 

While he touched you, he felt how you became wetter and how your moans increased, and he decided to leave you. "Do you want it now, pretty baby?" He asked you with a wicked smile on his lips, looking at you as you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling. 

You were a little dizzy by his fingers, but you still nodded softly, letting him finally take you. You felt him rise again, making you able to look at his face. You saw how he took off his shirt, throwing it on the floor, showing his naked and perfect torso, with scratches and tattoos. He smiled as he noticed your gaze. "Do you like it, little girl? This is yours now, you can look at it as many times as you want." He whispered, as he took off his pants. 

He was totally naked now, showing off his large erection. He stroked it a little, while he continued looking at your little body, licking his lips and thinking a lot of scenarios with you. 

"You're driving me crazy, baby..."  

He approached you, letting his tip just touch your entrance, feeling you gasp and close your eyes. His cock was big, and you expected it to hurt. "I'm going in now, okay? It's going to hurt a little, but you'll get used to it, baby." He murmured. Gently, he gave the first push, causing only the tip to enter. You moaned, grabbing the bed sheets and biting your lip.  

"Good, baby... you'll get used to it." He whispered, giving you gentle caresses on your hip to soothe your pain.

You felt him start to go deeper and deeper, making you close your eyes and moan, feeling full when everything finally entered. "It's big..." you whispered softly. He laughed softly. "It is, but you just need to stretch out to enjoy it." 

 After a few seconds, he started to move. Going out a little and going in again, all slowly and gently so as not to hurt you. You felt those pushes like the sky, closing your eyes and moaning slightly, opening your little mouth. He enjoyed your countenance, watching you like his movements. 

“I'm going to go a little faster, little girl..." he warned, before giving you a kiss on your neck. Now, his movements began to be faster and more concise, crashing his pelvis against yours, filling you so well. He heard your moans and saw how you squirmed, making him smile. Meanwhile, he whispered nice words in your ear, caressing your breasts with one hand and holding your hip with the other. 

"Such a good girl, taking Daddy's cock so well. Who thought you were a virgin, huh, baby?" He whispered, slamming his hips precisely against yours, giving you more and more pleasure. 

You were so dizzy, feeling how his fat cock filled you and made you feel so good. You smiled like a fool at his whispers, and moaned uncontrollably. You felt like his movements were too much, and that the knot in your stomach was already going to explode. Thomas knew you were going to come, and he smiled. "Cum for Daddy, little girl. Do it, do it for your daddy." He whispered in your ear, making his thrusts even stronger as he felt like he was going to cum too. 

"Would you like Daddy to leave his cum in you, pretty baby? For Daddy to fill you with his essence?" You nodded, moaning softly. Soon, you felt your legs shake, his cock thrust too hard, and your knot exploded. You moaned loudly, letting your liquid come out. You also heard Thomas' grunt in your ear, and his cum filling you. 

"Good little girl... you were a good baby, you know that?" He whispered in your ear, as he pulled out of you and let his liquids mix and come out of your entrance together, creating an image worth seeing. "Look at that... it's perfect, baby."  

He noticed that you were tired from what happened. He took you in his arms and laid down gently next to you, holding you close to his body. He enjoyed having you so much, watching you moan and pant for him. It made him feel like a king.  

"Sleep, pretty baby... you deserve a rest after being a good girl for Daddy..." he whispered in your ear. He planted a soft kiss on your little head, stroking your hair and letting you fall asleep. 

You fell asleep like a baby in his strong, comfortable arms, dreaming about him. This was definitely your best birthday. 

#cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #smut #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader #fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders fic

[littlemsshoney]

Hannibal falling in love

It is ridiculous how wrapped around your little finger he was.

From the first moment he laid eyes on you he found his new fixation. Every time you were in the same room with him his gaze was fixed on you, observing silently every detail, getting to know you before you were even introduced.

Of course he would be very careful, almost suspicious of any new person being added to his social circle. For a man obsessed with his social image he had to be cautious of any potential competitor and you were just lovely. So charming, well educated, funny, and polite.

He found you unusually enchanting. Of course he recognised your beauty but there was something less superficial about you that just pulled him in.

The feeling was known to him yet very rare as it never seemed to have a happy end. He knew he tended to be quite intense with his emotions and that never ended well so he promised himself it wouldn’t be that way with you.

It wasn’t long till you happened to be invited to the same dinner parties through common friends. How could he not observe you when you were sitting opposite of him only a few centimetre out of his reach? Every time you happened to talk he found the perfect opportunity to study you, the way you spoke, the way you smiled, the faces you made when you found something funny, stupid or ridiculous. You tried to be discreet not to offend anyone but he noticed, he noticed and he loved every expression your precious face made.

If you happened to sit next to him he would already know what perfume you wore, what scented shampoo you used everything. (And he wouldn’t mind doing some personal research about you beforehand)

With every joke of yours he found himself truly laughing and when you spoke his inner monologue quietened and he didn’t have to pretend to be listening because he actually did.

For a man like him who spent most part of his life stuck inside his head, building fortresses against the cruelty of people you quickly broke down everything while having him feeling so comfortable and at ease with you. You had him hooked.

Of course he noticed the way other people looked at you. Women and men with their envy and lust and he wouldn't be jealous if he only knew you were his.

During his sessions he found himself unable to focus on anything, his mind just replaying every conversation you two had over and over like a broken radio. Almost every night he was awake at the most unholy hours, his mind unable to rest and stop thinking about you. That was when he knew it was inevitable.

His insomnia and love for you he treated with writing love letters and sonnets, making sketches and drawings of you as he imagined you, all of them hidden and locked in the drawer of his office and his heart too.

Now not only were you dominating his every through but his whole life too.

He would take notes into his head of your interests and would say all the perfect things to keep you interested. What were your hobbies? Art, literature, music he would become an expert for you. He knew everything from Taylor Swift's latest album to the full analysis of your favourite poem. He would do and learn about anything you liked and was passionate about, just to keep you talking to him with that sparkle in your eyes. He could do it for hours, days and every minute for the next of his life.

I hope you don’t share your affections with anyone special because if he found out which he would, they would be the next missing person in town or worse.

When you became used to him and you got to know each other better he found his chance to invite you to one of his special dinners. Only that one would be even more special as you would be the only guest hence having his sole interest. He had one whole evening to amaze you with his culinary skills, deep, meaningful conversations about art, philosophy and life. At the end of the night he had you feeling it too.

And when the time came and you became his you and the whole world would see just how smitten he is.

He laughed with every joke, he listened to you carefully and everytime your name was mentioned he couldn't help but smile. Any little things that caught your eyes you would have and if you asked for the moon itself he would find a way to give it to you.

He didn’t mind, he actually loved it. That was love for him. He wanted to be your loyal servant and your beloved and feared god all at once. Could you give him this and he would give you the world.

If you didn’t however return his affections or god forbid you betray him that would be a very different and tragic(for you) story.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal x reader #mads mikkelsen #will graham

[beasblogsposts]

Restless Routine (NxR)

a/n: hiii! This is my second fic on here so pls be kind 🫣 I posted a poll yesterday asking if anyone would be interested in seeing a fluffy Natasha x reader showing how the couple deal with Nat’s nightmares. It was 98% for it so here u go!! I hope u enjoy, any comments / feedback always appreciated.

Much love - Bea 🐝

Natasha and y/n had been dating for three years, living together for around a year and a half. Had they moved a little quickly? Perhaps. But in the words Tony uses to consistently tease the black widow ‘when you know, you know.’

The two women met at a Stark gala four years ago (yes it took a whole year for Natasha to admit her feelings, she gets embarrassed every time someone mentions it now.) Despite it taking a short while to make it official, the connection between the women was instantaneous. Y/n’s job as a journalist meant she was working the event, occasionally managing to grab each Avenger for a casual interview and update on how their team was doing. The one she was most nervous for though, was the assassin herself…So when the end of the night was nearing, Natasha approached her instead, and the two ended up talking on a couch until 4am…Y/n didn’t even write any of it down, too mesmerised by the green eyes and the way Natasha’s lips moved as she spoke.

Even though the team were saddened to lose their quietest roommate from the compound, they knew they couldn’t stop Y/n and Nat moving in together for much longer. The pair already spent almost every night together, sometimes catching Y/n strolling through the entrance in the middle of the night (which most of the team assumed was midnight booty calls.)

What most of the team (barring Clint and Wanda) wasn’t privy to, is that since they started dating, the only thing that could soothe Natasha’s constant and overwhelming nightmares, was having Y/n beside her.

After three years of being in the happiest and stable relationship she had ever known, Natasha’s nightmares were few and far between, only occurring because of a trigger or a particularly rough mission. However, after an entire childhood in the Red Room and most of her adulthood spent seeing inhumane things, they torturous memories and nightmares of losing her loved ones still had her waking in a cold sweat and breathless.

Most of the time, the pair (meaning y/n) pretty much had the aftermath of these nightmares down to a science. She had a routing to follow that was very effective at soothing her girlfriend and bringing her back to reality as quick as possible.

9 times out of 10, their routine worked, and within 15 minutes the redhead would be once again sleeping soundly, wrapped in her girlfriends arms.

Tonight, however, was not one of those times. Natasha had been on a paired mission with Bruce, that ended in him losing control and almost throwing her off a cliff, only thanks to a new gadget tony had given her the day before was Natasha was able to prevent him from doing any physical damage. Alas, being chased and hunted by someone who is supposed to love you brought back memories for her that she did not want to relive ever again, ones that she had worked tirelessly to process and move on from.

To add insult to injury, the return from the mission was delayed, meaning the day she returned was 24 hours after she was supposed to. Y/n knew the 24th is the day Natasha is due back from her mission, so she managed to push her work trip to the 25th, ensuring she had a night with Natasha to help her recover from the mission before she had to leave. This meant that upon Natasha’s return, y/n was not there to soothe her racing mind, and she was left alone to simmer in her nightmares.

It hadn’t actually been that bad Natasha had reasoned herself as she thought back over the weekend spent without y/n as she waited for the front door to open. But god was she happy to hear the keys in the door.

Later on in the evening, after many hours of reunion kisses, legs tangling and a hot steamy shower, the couple were now sleeping soundly wrapped together in their bed. Both had fallen asleep quickly and were now enjoying some well needed rest.

That was until y/n felt the tell-tale sign of something fidgeting against her chest, she stirred and opened her eyes slightly, lifting her head to analyse how bad the nightmare was.

Natasha was twitching, clutching the sheets against her chest and mumbling incoherent things in her sleep sooo we’re at about a 6/10 Y/n thought, timidly lifting a hand to run along her arm

‘Natasha, baby…wake up’

She whispered softly, trying to rouse her girlfriend from her cursed slumber. This usually did the trick; Natasha would relax in her arms and turn back into her embrace at the sound of her voice.

This night though, the touch caused Natasha’s fists to clench tighter, and the soft words y/n spoke must have morphed into something else in Natasha’s scrambled brain, as she flinched and called out

‘NO…n-no get off her… please’

She all but yelled into the darkness of her bedroom.

Okay now we’re at a 9/10. Y/n thought as she sat up fully, placing her hands more firmly on Natasha’s shoulders and squeezing them just enough to hope that the touch would reach Natasha’s subconscious

‘Natty, baby I really need you to wake up for me… come on honey come back to me’

y/n says a little louder this time, breathing a heavy sigh of relief as Natasha’s eyes flew open and she gasped for breath.

The redhead sprung upright, lurching forward grabbing y/ns shirt and pulling her closer, gasping breathlessly

‘a-are you real? God please tell me this is real’

Natasha rushed out, tears running down her cheeks as she palmed at your shirt, trying to get her hands on any bare skin, just to make sure she could feel you.

‘I’m here my love, it wasn’t real, you’re safe now…I’ve got you my love’

Natasha nodded, burying her face into her chest, taking shuddering breaths and clasping her hands around y/n’s neck. These words alone were usually enough to bring her down, but her breath was still ragged and her eyes were darting around the room.

Without words, y/n knew what needed to be done, knew what Natasha needed from her right now. She carefully unhooked Nat’s arms from around her neck, and with steady movements so she didn’t startle her, stood from the bed, keeping one hand placed on Natasha’s arm.

She stood and flicked on the lamp, illuminating the room so Natasha could see all of her surroundings. Y/n held out her hand, and Natasha took it and stood up wordlessly.

The pair exited the bedroom and walked down the hallway of their city apartment; their first stop was the front door. Y/n still holding the hand of a timid Natasha trailing behind her, aggressively pulled and wiggled the door handle, demonstrating that it had remained safely locked since they had gone to bed earlier that night.

From there, the due moved to the sash windows in their lounge, where Natasha observed her girlfriend tracing her finger along the edges of the glass, ensuring there is no broken glass or gaps in the hinges, just to prove they are still firmly closed.

After this was the kitchen, the study, behind the shower door and into the back of the deep closet. y/n felt the grip on her hand tighten as it did every time they checked the closet, something about that particular confined spot bothering her more than any other part of their New York home.

After half an hour of checking and then rechecking any possible entry point or hiding place in their apartment, y/n and Natasha returned to the comfort of their bedroom, where y/n sat Natasha on the counter in their en-suite, running a warm damp cloth along her wrists and just below her jaw. Tracing her pulse points to relax her nerves and remove any traces of sweat on her skin.

In the few minutes of sitting on the edge of the bathroom sink, with her girlfriend stood between her thighs, trailing her soft hands along her skin, the redhead was now lulling against her, her head resting on her chest and her breathing now even and calm.

Holding a half-asleep spy in her arms, y/n laid down in the bed, cradling her 5’4 assassin. When she tried to reach out and dim the lamp, the spy grabbed her wrist and squeezed gently, sending her a silent sign.

At this, y/n chuckled, leaning back against the pillows

‘I didn’t forget, I was just getting comfy first.’

She spoke, before lowering her voice to a calm whisper to recall the rehearsed mantra Natasha needed at the end of their routine

‘You are safe…you are loved…I am here’

‘No red room…no danger…no fear’

y/n spoke, punctuating each word with a soft stroke along Natasha’s arm, the duvet now secured around them.

After just over a minute of repeating the mantra, y/n felt the grip on her body loosen slightly, and the weight on top of her completely still, the only movements being the rise and fall of Natasha’s torso as she released small breaths into the crook of y/n’s neck.

Every night, y/n would do this every night for Natasha, the woman who would soon be her wife. She made a mental note to grab the ring box from the top of her closet tomorrow morning.

#marvel #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha fluff

[sn00pism]

Drowning

He knew about his reputation.

It was something hard to ignore, really.

Being the hotshot U-20 of Japan's National Football team and a known flirt, he knew it was hard to ignore him at all.

But Oliver knew his boundaries. He knew exactly when not to cross the line, or rather, he knew when to draw a line as to avoid getting too attached or to lead someone on, and because he knew this, he placed a distance between you and him.

He fell for you a few months after spending time with you. It started as it usually did. He was looking for nothing more than someone to have fun with, maybe kiss sometimes until he grew bored and decided to walk away into something different.

With time, however, he realized he couldn't quite do that, he couldn't just walk away from you. You showed him endless empathy and care. So he distanced himself and resigned to just be your friend, nothing more.

And in attempts to push away the feelings he harbored for you and his problems with commitment, not wanting to push his fears and insecurities into you, he moved on to date several women, with little luck. None of them where you.

It started with little details, they weren't as kind as you, didn't like the same things you did, didn't treat people they way you did... They weren't you.

The girls were great, really, and he would've found himself having fun if he had met them before he met you.

He figured he was in deep shit when out of pure reflex he ordered what you liked instead of what his date had asked for, he apologised and changed the order but it was too late for him. He loved you, or at least had big feelings for you. Feelings he couldn't ignore anymore.

In this process he expected you to leave, get tired and sick of his playboy antics, but you showed him otherwise. You stood by his side as he threw up from being almost black-out drunk from a party, let him sleep in your couch when his insecurities got to him in the middle of the night, woke him up with breakfast and a coffee but most of all, you stood by his side as a friend would do.

"That's what friends are for, right?" You had told him once while smiling at him, taking a sip of your drink he bought for you after he'd taken you out to celebrate your end of finals week. After he had asked why were you putting up with him all these months.

Yeah... Friends...

His smile faltered a little and he felt his heart squeeze in between his ribcage. He fixed his expressions quickly and chuckled looking away from you... A friend... Is this his karma for having played around so much? Was he doomed to chase after someone he couldn't have because he'd inevitably hurt them?

You caught on his low mood, frowning softly and reaching for his hand, "Oli, are you okay?" Your touch burned his skin and soothed his heart. "Yeah.. yeah, I'm fine, I ..uh... I just have a lot to think about, sorry"

You smiled, but didn't move your hand away, after all, you liked him, but you didn't dare get too close.

Oliver was like the ocean, pretty but also deathly, go too deep and you'll drown yourself. You weren't so sure if you could withstand the pressure off the water, so you sat at the shore, watching the waves roll and crash against the surface.

After a while, you decided to head home, waking together, hands brushing but never holding on, shoulders close but never touching, heard yearning for eachother but both too scared to reach out to the other.

As time passed, you found yourself distancing from the shore, deciding all this pinning was going to kill you one day. So you sealed off your yearning of the cold water and deep waves of the ocean that was Oliver Aiku.

But the ocean doesn't go anywhere.

Oliver stayed, desperately growing the tide so it kissed your skin, hoping to bring you to him.

Your friendship began to grow weaker by the weeks that passed, schedules not lining up, friend dates being pushed back farther and farther away.

Oliver felt like he was drowning.

So, he made the first move, reaching your house and knocking on the door, watching you appear in your usual pijamas.

"hey... Sorry I came unannounced...I just.. I'm not comfortable with how far apart were growing and I wanted to surprise you."

You laughed softly and invited him in, moving aside to let him into your home.

Maybe, just maybe, this meant you could turn back to face the water, walk knee deep into the ocean and stay there.

#blue lock #bllk #bllk x y/n #blue lock scenarios #bllk headcanons #blue lock x reader #bllk oliver #oliver aiku #oliver aiku x reader #blue lock oliver #aiku x reader

[kissesfrombangtanatnight]

He Visits You At The Salon : Jey Uso

JEY. You had told your husband not to even try to make plans for you today because you already knew you'd be spending the entire day, or almost the entire day at the hair salon. But he already knew the deal, especially when you were getting your hair braided. Today you're getting a shampoo and conditioner treatment and some medium knotless braids down to your calves. It was already one in the afternoon and your stylist was less than halfway done.

You're sitting quietly as all of the women engage in conversation, some about relationships, men, politics, the culture etc.

"Girl so yeah, she caught his trifling ass cheating with his ex. I knew he wasn't done fucking around with her." One of the other women says as she gets her hair done. You sit quietly just taking in your surroundings.

"But are we really surprised? That's how some men are. They throw a ring on these little girls hands, but be missing what they had in other women. Like, come on sweetie, you know where home is. Chile, my ex's still be hitting me up trynna talk to me. I'm like, if your girl only knew. But I get why you're missing me, cause I'm the standard." You hear Jakayla say as you can't help but let out an inner laugh.

Long story short, she's your husband, Joshua's bitter ex-girlfriend. She cheated on him with a old friend of his and when he leveled up to you, she's been bitter and delusional ever since. Shading you every time you come in the salon, on social media posting cryptic messages etc. But you never gave this bitch an centimeter, hell an inch of your damn time. She wasn't worth it because at the end of the day, you knew your man loved you and was 100% loyal to you. And he wasn't going any damn where.

Your best friend Brenda looked at you from the corner of her eye and you immediately knew you and her were thinking the same thing. How desperate she was trying to make you feel insecure, but it sure as hell wasn't going to work. You not only had the ring, but you had his last name and you had his heart, which is more than what this bitter bitch can ever say she had.

Another reason you weren't going to entertain it is because you knew some of these bitches in here were messy and loved drama. If it weren't for you having the same stylist for the past ten years, you'd be going else where. You continue scrolling on your phone, texting in the family group chat.

"Aye y/n, ain't that your man?" Everyone looks up to see your husband, Joshua heading towards the salon with food and a small flower bouquet in his hands. Your best friend looked at you with a smirk on her face. You smile as he walks into the salon.

"Hey ladies, how's everybody?" He greets politely.

"Heeey Jeeeey." They all say collectively except Jakayla. She sat there with her arms folded and a stank look on her face, along with her stupid ass friends.

"Hey baby." He says walking over to you and bending down to your level and pecking your lips multiple times. The coolness from his gold chain lightly hitting against your skin. You remember being in this position last night as he was eating the fuck outta..nevermind chile. You could feel all eyes on you and your man, but you didn't care. You loved kissing him.

"Hey baby, this for me?" You squeak with a huge smile on your face. He hands you your food and flowers. "Thank you. Where you just coming from?" You ask trying not to look down at his dick print in his grey hoochie daddy shorts. He knew those were your favorite on him.

"Just coming from Mike's, I got another tattoo." You playfully roll your eyes.

"You and your tattoo obsession babe." You joke diving into your food. Your stylist walked away momentarily for you to eat. "What you get this time?" Last month he'd gotten a beautiful palm tree tatted on his side.

"I got your name." He says pulling up his shorts down slightly for you to see your name tatted on v-line. Lord knows you were getting damp just thinking about how nice that was gonna look as you gave him hea....nevermind! "I didn't come to stay I just wanted to bring you something to eat since I knew you were gonna be here all day Mrs. Fatu." He says locking you in as he placed his hands on both sides of your chair and bending down in your face. You could smell the mint on his breath as he smiled down at you. You were so in love with this man, he just didn't understand.

"Why you all in my breathing space? Back up." You smile looking up at him.

"Oh so now I'm bothering you? I'm in ya face, now what? What...you...gon...do...bout...it?" He says each word in between kisses, causing you to break into a laugh. 

"Stooop bae." You say even though you really don't want him too. You're lost in his eyes.

"I'll see you at home okay? I'm gonna go shoot some pool with the bros." He says grabbing your hands and kissing your knuckles.

"Okay, I'll see you later. Gimme kiss." You say standing to your feet as he wraps his arms around your waist so delicately as if you're some fragile doll. He captures your lips in his in a passionate kiss. You bite his bottom lip playfully as he squeezes your hip in a warning tone.

"Don't start y/n, I'll have you bent over this damn chair knockin them braids loose." He smirks. You throw your braids over your shoulder laughing.

"I'll see you at home silly bye. I love you."

"I love you too. Alright ladies I'm out, y'all have a good one." He says throwing up the peace sign.

"You too Jeeeey." You playfully roll your eyes. As you watch him leave.

"I love that man." You mumble.

#wwe smut #wwe x reader #wwe the usos #wwe imagine #wwe fanfiction #wwe the bloodline #main event jey uso #jey uso fic #jey uso smut #jey uso x reader #jey uso imagine #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso x black reader

[calaisreno]

Rise

621 words / Prompt: Family

Today’s mini-fic is a little bit that didn’t make it into The Last Envoy. After the war, Sherlock returns and visits Mummy. 

1946

Mycroft told me that Mummy was failing a bit, but that was not what I saw when I looked through the garden door and saw her snipping flowers to put in a vase. She looked like the woman I’d last seen four years ago, before I went to Oxford, still tall and straight, graceful and beautiful.

Four years seemed a lifetime. Years filled with separation and waiting, spent in places only war can create. 

“Happy Birthday, Mummy,” I said, smiling. 

She turned then, and I could see that her hair was whiter, her movements slower. She lay down the scissors and put her arms around me, still holding two roses. I felt her hands tremble against my back.

“My boy,” she whispered. “My dearest darling.”

She knew me, but in her mind I was always the son she’d lost, so many years ago. A bright little boy she’d called Sherlock, as well as the man Mycroft had named after that child. 

“How are you?” I could see a brightness in her eyes and was glad that her mind was still active. 

“I’m fine,” she replied, holding me at arm’s length now and examining me with that sharp gaze. “You look surprisingly well. Doctor Watson has been taking good care of you.”

“He has. Switzerland is a very healthy place to live. Up in the mountains, the air is crystal clear. I’m sure I’ll miss it and will need to visit again some day, but for now I’m happy to be back.”

We sat, and Rose brought us tea. 

“Mycroft told me about your experiences. I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It’s heart-breaking that people can do such things.”

I did not speak; a question should not be answered until it is asked.  

“How is John?” she asked.

“He’s fine. He would have come with me, but he had to be at the hospital today.”

“He’s a good man. I’m glad you have him.” 

“I’m very lucky.” 

We sipped our tea in silence. I could hear the bees humming in her flowers. Closing my eyes, I recalled the first time I saw bees travelling between the flowers in Mycroft’s garden. I imagined a day when I could no longer sit in Mummy’s garden, watching the bees and talking to her.  

As if she could hear my thoughts, she smiled and spoke to me. 

“I’m seventy-five years old today, Sherlock. With luck, I may have several more birthdays.”

“I hope so, Mummy.” 

She gave me that familiar look, the one that means she wants to share something personal, words for my ears alone. “You once described to me how the Beta view time as an arrow, always travelling up, leaving the past behind. It’s a good way to look at ageing, which often feels like loss. I’ve decided that as the years pile up, I will rise above them, into the future.”

In my mind I sometimes felt myself looking back as my ship moved up and away from Beta, my home planet, until it sparkled, a tiny point of light in the trackless black universe. I remembered everything about my home, every one of the people who loved me. They were moving quickly into the past, growing smaller as I looked back. I was flying away from them, but still too far away from my destination to see the life I would have on a planet that couldn’t be seen from Beta. In my memories, they were always looking up, watching me leave them.

That is how it would be for this woman who had become my second mother. In my memories, she would always live. 

One day, I would be a Memory too.

I smiled. “We all rise.” 

—

For a bit of context, an excerpt from The Last Envoy, Chapter 2:

1938

“How old are you?” I asked.

She raised her chin, a sign of pride. “I am sixty-seven years old.” She leaned forward and patted my knee. I wasn’t sure what this meant. “You’re a lovely boy, Sherlock. I want to teach you something important.”

I smiled. “Thank you.”

“Women don’t like being asked their age,” she said. “I don’t mind because I’m an old woman and you are a lovely young man. You don’t know all of the social nuances, but you’re a quick learner.”

“Why do women not like to be asked their age?” It seemed to me that any human ought to be proud of living so long. 

She sighed. “It’s a bit complicated. Men don’t mind saying their age. You must understand that the role of women in our society is to produce children and raise them. For that, we have to project youth and good heredity, as evidenced by our beauty. A woman hates to think that she is no longer useful, so we continue to foster the illusion that we are still young and beautiful, even when it is a ridiculous fantasy.”

“Why do you think you are not useful?” I asked. “Women are not just breeding machines; they have brains. You had an important job; you’re obviously an intelligent woman who would do a better job running the country than most men.”

She sighed and leaned back in her chair. “I do not disagree. But these are the roles that nature has given us and society requires. Perhaps one day, we will rise above nature and society.” 

@totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes

#mayprompts2024 #the last envoy #my fics

[lovearthur]

Could you write something about Arthur seeing the reader for the first time and just being strongly attracted to her. Just cute little thoughts and fuzzy feelings? 🥺🫶🏼 context doesn’t really matter as in where & when I just want him to have happy thoughts <33

𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒃𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒖𝒓 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓)

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓡𝓔𝓐𝓓! afab/fem! reader . reader is referred to as “she” in his journal entry . clemens point chapter . arthur in love! . mary-beth being the biggest fan of u both

it was u.

u were the woman that he realised he was sweet on, the woman that he fell absolutely in love with. and he had no idea why.

maybe it was the way u treated him. the way u treated him so mindly, so sweetly. or how u knew that in reality that he wasn't all just strength and intimidation but infact that he was a really sweet man. a gentleman is what u thought of him. he even gave u a subtle... special treatment. in the way that he'd steal u away when u needed to be doing chores, sometimes even helping u with them. u listened to him when no one else did, u got him safely back to his tent when he decided to have a drink around the campfire.

u were his favourite in camp. no doubt about it. not like he'd never admit to anyone except his journal. that damn journal of his knew everything about u, he treated the journal like a close friend.

┌───────────── ⋆⋅౨ৎ⋅⋆ ─────────────┐

𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓

─────

couldn't catch any game today. couldn't see any movement. I'll go out hunting tomorrow morning again. bring [name] if she wanted to join me. if not, i'll take charles.

by the campfire, she caught me sketching her again, damn fool i was. she looked real pretty, sitting there while laughing and talking with the other women, couldn't help it but sketch her. course, she looked at him and said a lot of goo things. eventually gave the sketch to her. saw it in her tent later on, she kept it. mary-beth always teases me about her, saying i should make a move or tell her. wonder if she even knows.

i'm just nervous. she deserves a better man, not me. not an outlaw man. im just one lonely idiot. in love with a girl like her.

ill see what hosea says. he's better at this than me.

─────

└───────────── ⋆⋅౨ৎ⋅⋆ ─────────────┘

u were sitting with the women by the wagon, listening to karen's... rant about sean. really, u knew how much karen adored sean, but she wasn't sure of him completely. he was a fool sometimes, he always meant well. though, ur mind started drifting away to think of other exciting things...

u looked over to arthur. he was sitting opposite of the wooden table, talking to hosea. u always liked him, hosea. he was kind, and real wise. desppite being one amazing con-artist. and so, u understood why arthur liked him so much. he was one of the good men. u even saw a little bit of him in arthur sometimes. they always had such a good, close bond and that made u smile.

”caught him lookin' at you the other day.” mary-beth says with a smil3 on her face, her gaze down to keep sewing.

“huh? who?” u reply, not knowing who she was talking about. u knew none of the men gave u a second glance... or so u thought. “mr morgan! i saw him starin' at you, for so long. he didn't stop until he noticed that i saw him” she says, with that exciting tone of hers. and u immediately felt the butterfly feeling in ur stomach. arthur? staring at u? he was always so busy in and our of camp that u assum3d that he barely had time to sit and stare at u.

“oh, you're lyin'. he'd never.” u reply to her, a smile creeping onto ur face at the thought. staring at u? no way.. so, mary-beth leaned in a little closer. “hes lookin' at u right now!” she exclaimed, glancing behind u for a moment. a little confused, u turned around to see if she was right.

u caught him. u caught finally him staring at u. he looked back at hosea, continuing their conversation. ur heart fluttered.

as u turn back to face mary-beth, that butterfly feeling in ur stomach came back .“see? i told you!” she whispers, keeping that excited tone of hers.“it- its probably nothin', just happened.” u say, trying ur best not to get her hopes up. “oh, dont be like that, hes sweet on you, i just know it.” she replies to u, before continuing to sew again.

u gave the lead enforcer one more look and u caught his gaze once again. u always knew he looks at u different... lovingly, maybe? well, he was always sweet with u. tilly joked that it was special treatment that he gave u but u often denied it, of course. u had no idea what was up with him but u were determined to figure him out.

┌───────────── ⋆⋅౨ৎ⋅⋆ ─────────────┐

𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐓

─────

talked to hosea, helped me out a bit. said when the timings right that I should tell her and i should tell her when we're alone so maybe i should take her out on a ride or into town, get her away from camp before i go ahead with it. dutch says i should get all romantic but i dont know how, not my thing.

she caught me today. couldn't believe it. she was sitting and talking to mary-beth and she saw me, looking at her. god, what a fool i am but she's so pretty. so beautiful. still got that gun she bought me as a gift. never used it yet, she wants me to but i don't. wouldn't want to ruin it.

shes so beautiful, a real good girl. no one else like her in this life. that woman just does something to me that I can't describe. must be some of that charm that she always jokes about, or that mouth of hers that keeps herself away from trouble in town. i have no idea how she does it but she does it well. hopefully, she could be my woman one day.

planned to give her that sliver necklace i bought just before we moved camp. its pretty as a picture, just like her, too. it'll suit her just fine, I know it. just got to figure out when to give it to her. maybe tomorrow after i come back with lenny, karen, bill, get her alone before anyone else needs me again.

─────

└───────────── ⋆⋅౨ৎ⋅⋆ ─────────────┘

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr #red dead redemption #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 arthur #rdr2 fanfic

[scekrex]

fuck me ive been having brainrot

adam who flirts with his partner to watch their face go gold

(as a poc person he would adore it since gold looks amazing on us)

You've already read this but I had to turn that into a little something hehehehe

Gold is a divine color, luckily you're the most divine person to exist

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language & sexual tension

note: beta read by @drxgonspine

Adam loved complimenting you, not only because it let you know how he thought of you, but also because the golden blush that always crept up your neck so easily until it reached your cheeks looked absolutely gorgeous on you.

When he had first figured out that the winner's blood was golden - a pure and divine color - he had thought of it as useless, unnecessary and a stupid decision made by God, because what was the point of changing somebody’s blood color anyways? But oh how that view on this changed when he met you - the most divine angel to walk heaven’s streets. He had never really put any thought into the fact that a changed blood color would also mean that the blush on the winner's skins would appear gold instead of red-pink ish.

But then he had flirted with you - at first it had been an act of getting your attention with no real meaning behind those words, he had flirted with plenty of people before. Yes, most of them had been women and yes, it was way harder for a dude - especially a dude like Adam - to hit on other men, but you? With you it felt so natural to be flirty.

“Sup Shawty,” he cockily grinned as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder lazily as if it had always meant to be that way, a slight golden blush spread on your cheeks, yet it was so light that the normal eye would have easily missed it if the person would not have been focusing on it.

Adam though, had been focusing on the beautiful blush - he had been for a while now. That was also why he knew that it was so easy to cause that blush to appear because even after years and years of being in a relationship, that was one thing that had never changed. “Shut up,” you mumbled as you turned your face away from the first man, your wing coming up to shield your side in order to block his view.

Adam was very much not having it though.

“No need to hide your handsome face, babes, I know what your ass looks like when it gets all flustered,” the stupidly cocky grin was not leaving his face for even the slightest moment, in fact it only grew as you raised your wing even more and ducked down your head to properly hide behind white feathers.

“Adam,” you hissed in an alarming tone, making it clear that he should better shut his mouth. Not that you were truly minding it, but you knew he was just teasing and you were having none of it, not when you desperately wanted your body to stop doing what it was doing giving Adam the pleasure he was seeking in seeing you blushing.

“Oh c’mon, we both know you like it,” the brunette leaned in as he effortlessly pushed your wing aside so that his lips were brushing against your ear as he continued to speak, “You’re such a handsome fucker, you should not hide behind those stupid feathers.”

The blush that had only been spreading on your cheeks at first was now slowly creeping down your neck, all the way down to the top of your chest, painting you in the most angelic color Adam was ever allowed to lay eyes onto. A golden tan was covering your skin, causing you to look pure - well, purer than you normally looked. “Fucking love it when ya get all flustered over some words,” he hummed in your ear, his voice suddenly sounding deeper than just a moment before - you were done. He had you exactly where he wanted you and he made it obvious that he would not back down, not when the golden flush looked so divine on you.

No, he wanted to keep that look on your skin for as long as possible. The fact that his words made you feel good about yourself was a nice side effect in his eyes.

You forcefully grabbed Adam by his collar, yanking him down further until he was on your eye level as you hissed, “Listen bitch, if you start something, you’ll fucking finish it, got that?” The grin on Adam’s lips remained and it was driving you insane in the best way possible. You were aware that his only goal was to watch you get flustered and blushy, but God knew he also loved to rile you up. A thing you could not deny: you were quite easy to rile up - at least for Adam because somehow that man knew exactly how to push your buttons and get you where he wants you. “Is that supposed to be a threat, hotstuff,” his lips were brushing against yours as he spoke, “Or is it an invitation?”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

[callmelittlebuttercup]

Peace Offerings Pt. 11

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Series Summary: Joel makes a bad impression on the reader when he cuts in front of her at the radio station in the QZ. Abe, a father figure to her and an informant of Joel’s, informs her that the two have something in common: A brother in Wyoming. Joel reluctantly follows Abe’s wishes when he asks him to take the reader along to help find her brother too. As the journey goes on, she finds that despite his best efforts to make her think so, Joel isn’t a complete asshole, and maybe even a little… attractive?

Series Warnings: Slow burn, Fluff, Angst, Age gap (reader is 34, Joel is 56), 18+ Minors DNI, Sexual Themes, Violence, Injuries (depictions of blood, bruising, broken bones), Cursing, Grumpy!Joel, Minimal depictions of reader's appearance (hair color/length.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part Eleven

  A few weeks passed by, and I’d volunteered to help out at the little school they’d established in town for the kids. Matthew continued his shifts on the watch, and we’d been getting along much better since our talk. The one person I hadn’t seen much of was Joel. He’d started to help out with construction and restoration projects around town, and I’d see him leaving for his shifts early in the morning. Around the same time I’d leave to set up for school. Every time I spotted him, I’d feel a pang in my chest. I wanted to talk to him, to talk about what I’d said that night, but he clearly didn’t want to hear it. He made that obvious by keeping his head down every time he left his house. I didn’t try to talk to him, didn’t trust myself not to make things worse. So instead, I acted like I didn’t care, like I was unphased by the way he’d shriveled up and evaporated from my life at the first sign of danger. I knew I’d scared him off. It was no secret, and the regret of not keeping my mouth shut was so crippling I’d barely left the house.          

 It was Saturday morning, and I was getting dressed to go to the community restoration of another abandoned house down the block. Matthew had told me it’d be a good way to get out of the house and “quit moping around.” I figured he was right, that I should meet some other folks in town if I was going to be here for a while. So, I pulled on the new pair of jeans Maria had traded for me, threw on a t-shirt I’d taken from Matthew’s stash, and headed out the door. 

          As I approached the crowd of people gathered around the house, anxiety twisted my stomach. It had been so long since I’d been a part of a community. For 20 years it had only been Matthew and I, just me, and then Joel and I. I stood awkwardly between two women who smiled welcomingly as I approached. We were being divided into groups and each given jobs. My group had been put in charge of knocking down and rebuilding the rotting walls inside the house. 

          I climbed up the steps along with my group and followed down the hall to meet our group leader. I had forgotten that Joel had been doing carpentry work, and my eyes widened at the sight of him standing there holding a sledge hammer and a couple of hard hats. Our eyes met, but he quickly broke the contact as he began to explain the directions. He walked along the line of people, passing out the hats. I was the last one in line. Butterflies fluttered around my rib cage when his hand brushed mine as he placed the hard hat into it. He paused his speech briefly, but continued on. “This house has a lot of rot and hasn’t been touched in years, so no matter what you do, do not remove your head protection.” He said before glancing at me. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. 

            We began with pulling down the walls that he’d made holes in with his sledge hammer. The gloves were far too big for my hands and kept slipping off when they got caught in the plaster. “How’s it goin’?” Joel’s voice rumbled from behind me. I spun around, ending up inches from him. “Me? Oh-I don’t have much experience ripping down walls, but fine I guess.” I sputtered. He nodded and continued to check on the other members of the group. I began to sweat from the repetitive movements of pulling and throwing the plaster, and from having the cloth over my face to protect from the dust. Without thinking, I took my hard hat off to wipe my forehead and pull my hair back. I heard Joel call out my name panickedly, but didn’t have time to react before a sickening crack rang out and I was knocked to the ground by a loose beam in the ceiling. Dark spots crowded my vision and I blinked a few times to clear them, but soon after my vision turned to darkness. 

           I only caught fragments of what happened after I got hit. I heard someone yell, “Does anyone know this girl?” and another voice yell, “I do. Don’t touch her!” I felt the sensation of being picked up and carried to a vehicle. Heard the same voice calling my name, and saying “Come on, sweetheart, you’re gonna be okay. Hurry up will ya? She’s bleeding everywhere!” I felt gentle slaps on my cheek, and opened my eyes briefly to see Joel’s face hovering over me. He had my head cradled in his lap, a hand pressing against the back of my head where I’d been hit. “Hi,” I whispered. He ran his thumb over my cheek, and whispered back, “Hey.” I smiled lightly before the light plus the pressure in my head forced me to close my eyes, but he patted my cheek again, “No, no, don’t close your eyes. You gotta stay awake for me, okay? We’re almost there.” I mindlessly whispered back, “I’m awake.” I tried my best to keep my eyes open and focus on Joel’s face, but the movement of the truck and the light shining in through the window were all too much, and eventually I fell unconscious. 

I awoke in a dark room. There was a faint, continuous beeping sound coming from beside me. I tried to sit up but my head was pounding and my stomach filled with nausea. My attempt to see where I was was fruitless. Both from disorientation, and since the only illumination was the sliver of light coming in from the crack in the door. My name being uttered suddenly filled the heavy silence. I followed the sound to a figure who was propped up in a chair to my right. “Matthew?” I asked groggily. “It’s me.” I finally recognized the voice. The soothing, yet deep and gravelly tone. It was Joel. “Joel? Where’s Matthew?” I asked as I attempted to sit up again. His hand fell onto my shoulder and gently forced me back. “Don’t try to sit up.” He advised gently, “Matthew isn’t-” The door opened and a figure walked in. “Mr. Miller, may I speak with you outside?” The person asked in a polite and calm tone. I watched as Joel’s shadow moved across the room and to the door. The two stood there, seemingly deep in conversation. I strained to hear them, but my head began to hurt worse from the effort and my ears were ringing slightly.  

Eventually, Joel nodded and made his way back to my side. “You remember what happened?” He asked as he sat back down into the chair. “I hit my head.” I answered. “That’s cute. You got your head hit by a support beam.” He spat back. “Sir.” the person who I could only assume was a nurse cleared her throat. Joel leaned back in his chair and let the woman approach. I kept my eyes on her as best as I could as I listened to her speak. She explained, in a much more comforting tone, “Miss, you have suffered blunt force trauma to the back of your head which caused a laceration and a small skull fracture. You likely have a moderate concussion and will have to lay low for the next few weeks to heal.” I huffed in disbelief. “A fractured skull? Does Matthew know?” I questioned panickedly. Joel began to speak, but the nurse cut him off, “Your brother has been notified. We suggest you rest as much as possible for the time being. Once we are happy with your vitals and change your wound dressing, we can discharge you.” She explained. I nodded slightly while twisting the fabric of the thin bed sheet between my fingers.

The nurse exited, leaving Joel and I to sit in silence. “So why are you here?” I asked dryly. “Because you were under my supervision.” He answered, mimicking my tone. I could tell he was annoyed with me. “Right. Go ahead, lecture me about following directions. I know I deserve it.” I said defeatedly. “I’m not allowed.” He sighed. “Oh so that’s what the nurse was lecturing you about.” I chuckled in realization, “So does that mean you have to be nice to me?” He answered, “Just long enough for you to heal.” I rolled my eyes, ignoring the dull ache behind them. 

We let another bout of silence pass before I spoke again, “So, am I ever going to get an answer about where my brother is?” Joel shifted in his chair and cleared his throat. A nervous tick. “He left for a mission with the watch. A supply trade with another community. He’ll be back in a few days.” He said quietly. “A few days? When the fuck was he going to tell me?” I asked angrily. “Shhh. Calm down. I promised the nurse I wouldn’t tell you, but you deserve to know. He wanted to tell you but he didn’t have much notice. You’re staying with me until you can function on your own.” I laid back in the bed, and tried to still my breathing. Becoming upset only made the nausea and the pressure in my head worse. “I don’t need to stay with you. I’ll be fine on my own.” I insisted. “You won’t be. Your head is cracked open. So, you don’t have much of a choice. It’s me or some randos. I figured you’d rather not be with complete strangers.” He said sternly. I thought for a moment. He was right, I didn’t have a choice. I knew brain injuries weren’t anything to fuck around with, so I needed to brush my ego aside and accept his help despite how confusing his sudden relapse in caring about me was. 

The nurses took my vitals and changed my wound dressing before handing me a bottle of pills and sending Joel and I on our way. I shielded my eyes from the blinding sun as I trailed behind Joel on the street, and he eventually slowed down for me out of pity. He held the door of his house open for me, and began to pour me a glass of water as I settled on his couch. 

            A few minutes passed and the thud of a plate hitting the coffee table next to me snapped me out of the fog I’d been in. I glanced to see what kind of offering it was this time. A sandwich that looked to have more than just meat and cheese. My stomach rumbled at the sight, and I looked up at Joel. “Thank you.” I said quietly as I reached for the plate. He nodded and sat down to eat himself. “The nurse gave me some medicine. Said you needed to eat beforehand. How’re you feelin’?” He asked. I finished chewing the delicacy and swallowed before answering, “Head is aching that’s for sure. The stitches are more annoying than anything.” My hand moved to the back of my head to feel the scratchy bandage. I shuddered to think about what was underneath it. He nodded and turned his attention back to his food. “Speaking of, you’ve got to change your dressing before you go to sleep tonight.” 

          My stomach twisted at the thought of the wound being touched. “Oh. Okay.” I muttered. “I can help ya if you want? It’d be hard to see.” He questioned. I didn’t want Joel to see the sweaty, shaky wreck I would become at the slightest amount of pain. I could handle cramps, broken ribs, possible broken nose, but anything to do with the skull and stitches skeeved me out more than anything. Anxiety started to build in my chest, and I could feel the anger defense mechanism gearing up. “Um… I appreciate all of the help, but I got this.” He nodded. We both finished our sandwiches and then I’d insisted he stay downstairs while I took the bandages and other supplies into the upstairs bathroom. 

           I stood in front of the mirror. Staring at the hair being pushed up from the bandage wrapped around my head. The dark circles pulling my eyes down. My chapped, dehydrated lips. I felt embarrassed that Joel was seeing me like this. I knew I shouldn’t care what he thinks. That he’s seen me in other bad states. But I couldn’t stifle the fact that I wanted him to think I was pretty. 

          I winced as I unraveled the bandage and pulled it off of my head. I laid the bloodsoaked fabric onto the counter and began to pull off the gauze. The sting of the wound being tampered with caused me to let out a small panicked shriek, and I let my hands fall to the edges of the sink. The gauze wasn’t even half-way off, and I brought my hand up to my mouth to stifle the whimpers as I worked through pulling it off the rest of the way. I grabbed the bottle of hydrogen peroxide from the infirmary and poured it onto an extra piece of gauze. After taking a deep breath in, I pressed it to the wound. The searing sensation hit me like a truck, and a loud “fuck” left my throat. 

          “You okay?” Joel called. I heard  him coming up the stairs and opened the bathroom door to reveal my teary eyed self. “No I’m not fucking okay.” I spat, “I can’t do one thing without injuring myself in some way. I don’t even know how I made it this far being this fucking dumb-“ my hysterical rant was halted at the feeling of his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, hey, wait a second. It’s okay.” He said gently as he took the cotton pad out of my hand, “Just let me help you.” His eyebrows knitted in pity as he gently spun me back towards the mirror. I caught my breath and watched him assess the wound on the back of my head. “You’re always helping me.” I mumbled, “Just wanted to do somethin’ for myself for once. You’re always helping me or saving me. Jesus. You only agreed to get me somewhere and now look at you.” I was mainly speaking to distract myself from the pain of the gauze being pressed gently against my head, but Joel was listening. “I agreed to get you somewhere safely.” He corrected me. “And you did. And we were supposed to go our separate ways. The plan wasn’t for you to turn into my personal nurse. God, you even almost got away from me but my stupid brother made me go to that community restoration and there I was again, just taking off my hard hat to wipe the sweat away and then pulling you back into my bullshit.” His face twisted in confusion, “What do you mean ‘almost got away?’” 

          I bit my lip, realizing that in distracting myself I’d also brought up the elephant in the room. “Y-you didn’t talk to me for weeks after that night after the bar. I thought I’d scared you off.” I said sheepishly. “Oh.” He said, his voice deepened. “Did I?” I asked as I made eye-contact with him through the mirror. He didn’t answer for a few moments as he focused on dressing the gash in my head. “It wasn’t you.” He finally spoke, “I scared myself.” I turned around and met his eyes. Our faces and bodies once again inches from each other. “How?” I asked. I watched his eyes as I questioned him. They were always telling the truth before he was, but this time he spoke before they could. “It got me thinkin’… about things I shouldn’t have been.” He said quietly. The rasp of his voice when he spoke in a low tone had me in a chokehold. “Like what?” I practically purred, unable to stop my eyes from flitting between his eyes and his lips. He cleared his throat, “Just things. Turn around, gotta bandage that back up.” His sudden pivot back to reality felt like a punch to the gut. How many more times was he going to avoid this conversation? I didn’t move, my eyes still boring into him like talons. I felt his hands grip my waist and he gently pushed my body to turn forwards. “I can never get anything out of you, Joel. Can you just this once explain yourself so I don’t have to keep guessing?” I pushed. “You know what? You want to know what I was thinking? I was thinking about how I could never be in a relationship again because the fear of losing yo- that person… makes me sick. I almost lost my life over my daughter, and I’d be a fool to think that I could ever make it through something like that again.” I stared at him through the mirror, unable to find the correct words to throw back at him. 

             My heart beat against my ribcage and all I could think about was the fact that he’d almost said “you” as in me. As in he’s scared of losing me. The man who had me convinced he hated me for the first few weeks of our journey. “Joel,” I stammered, “I never insinuated that we-“ He spoke over me, “But I did. I saw the full vision and the fact that I liked it made me almost throw up in the street.” By now he’d finished wrapping my head, and I turned around to face him again. “I felt the same way, Joel. Felt sick to my stomach. But it wasn’t about me ‘seeing the vision,’ it was the fear that I’d lost you. Officially scared you away.” I said quietly. “I don’t know if you could ever do that.” He ground out, his hand was subconsciously placed onto the base of my neck and the look of his glossy eyes were so soft it felt like they were holding me. “I’ve tried to dislike you- to push you away, trust me…” I chimed in, “Me too.” He continued, “but you make that a very hard thing to do.” The earnest look in his eyes and the softening of his voice brought a feverish red to my cheeks. The fluttering I felt in my chest was dizzying. I found myself leaning backwards onto the sink. I was waiting for him to break this moment up. To take a step back and say something dismissive or to just plain run away. But he didn’t. His strong hands held me steadily in front of him, and his eyes embraced my disheveled form. “Why don’t we stop doing that to each other then?” I asked softly. “I can try.” He answered, the side of his face turned up into a miniscule smile. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's note:

I'm so glad everyone is liking this series and sticking around despite it being the SLOWEST BURN EVER :') I can't thank y'all enough!!! A few housekeeping things: From now on, I will be posting a new chapter every Monday + comment to let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist <3

Taglist:

@demonsasss @ayamenimthiriel @ashleyfilm

#joel miller x reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x female reader #tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou smut #the last of us smut #the last of us #joel miller #the last of us hbo #hbo the last of us #tlou joel #if bad why hot? #if bad why sexy #but daddy i love him #i can fix him #forced proximity trope #enemies to friends to lovers #enemies to lovers #jackson au #jackson tlou #pedrohub #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction

[fourthwingfan]

Madness - Chapter 21

Hello, there readers. Here is the new chapter. Enjoy :) And as always you're all awesome! ❤️

Don’t freak out if you can’t immediately channel your dragon’s powers, Mira. Yeah, I know you have to be the best at everything, but this isn’t something you can control. They’ll channel when they feel you’re ready. And once they do, you’d better be ready to manifest a signet. Until then, you’re not ready. Don’t push it.

—Page sixty-one, the Book of Brennan

This really isn’t necessary.” Violet glances sideways at Liam as we make our way toward the door of the Archives. The cart doesn’t even squeak anymore. He fixed that the very first day.

“So you’ve told me for the last week.” He shoots her a grin, revealing a dimple.

“And yet you’re still here. Every day. All day.”

“Come on, Vi. Don’t be like this.” I chided her. “Admit that you actually like him. Liam is awesome, you know.” I wink at her.

“Shut up, Aelin.” She retorts but blushes so hard, her face is almost red.

And that’s it. Liam’s charm is working. He’s courteous, funny, and ridiculously helpful. He makes it difficult to loathe his constant presence. I mean I tried to avoid him when we first met, but somehow he wormed his way into my life. And Violet can’t hate him either. Even though he leaves wood shavings in little piles everywhere he goes. The guy is constantly whittling with that smaller knife of his. Yesterday he finished the figurine of a bear.

“Until otherwise ordered,” he answers to Violet’s remark.

I shake my head at them as Pierson jolts upright at the Archives doors, straightening his cream tunic. “Good morning, Cadet Pierson.”

“You as well, Cadet Melgren, Cadet Sorrengail.” He offers us a polite smile, which dies as he glances at Liam. “Cadet Mairi.”

“Cadet Pierson,” Liam responds, as if the scribe’s tone hadn’t completely changed.

My shoulders tense as Pierson hurries to open the door. Maybe it’s just that I haven’t been around marked ones before Basgiath, but the outright hostility toward them is becoming glaringly, uncomfortably obvious to me.

We walk into the Archives and wait by the table just like every other morning.

“How do you do that?” Violet asks Liam in a hushed whisper. “Handle when people are that rude without reacting?”

“You’re rude to me all the time,” he teases, drumming his fingers on the handle of the cart.

“Because you’re my babysitter, not because…”

“Because I’m the son of the disgraced Colonel Mairi?” His jaw ticks, his brow furrowing for a heartbeat as he looks away.

I silently squeeze his shoulder and he faintly smiles at me.

„I guess I’m really no better, though. I hated Xaden on sight, and I didn’t know a single thing about him.” Violet says softly.

Liam scoffs, earning us a glare from a scribe near the back corner. “He has that effect on people, especially women. They either despise him for what his father did or want to fuck him for the same reason, just depends on where we are.”

“You actually know him, don’t you?” She cranes her neck to look up at him. “He didn’t just pick you to shadow me because you’re the best in our year.”

“Just now catching on, huh?”

“Hey, take it easy, Liam. I needed time too. It’s not that obvious.” I elbow him in the ribs.

A grin flashes across his face, then he looks toward Violet. “I would have told you that on the first day if you hadn’t been so busy huffing and puffing about the pleasure of my company.”

I roll my eyes as Jesinia approaches, her hood up over her hair. “Hey, Jesinia,” I sign.

“Good morning,” she signs back, her mouth curving in a shy smile as her gaze darts up to Liam.

“Good morning.” He signs with a wink, clearly flirting.

It shocked me to my toes that first day that he knew how to sign, but honestly, I should have known. He’s awesome at everything.

“Just these today?��� Jesinia asks, inspecting the cart.

„And these.” I reach for the list of requests amid their obvious glances and hand it to her.

“Perfect.” Her cheeks flush and she studies the list before putting it in her pocket. “Oh, and Professor Markham left before his daily report arrived to teach your briefing. Would you mind taking it over?”

“Happy to.” Violet waits until she’s pushing the cart away from us, then smacks Liam’s chest. “Stop it,” she whispers out loud.

“Stop what?” He watches her until she turns the corner at the first set of shelves.

“Flirting with Jesinia. She’s a long-term-relationship woman, so unless that’s what you’re looking for…just…don’t.”

Ohhoo, Violet are you jealous?

His eyebrows hit his hairline. “How does anyone think long-term around here?”

“Not everyone is in a quadrant where death is less of a chance and more of a foregone conclusion.” She says as she tries to calm herself down.

“So you’re saying that some people still try to make cute little things like plans.”

“Exactly, and those some people is Jesinia. Trust me, I’ve known her for years.”

“Right. Because you wanted to be a scribe when you grew up.” He scans the Archives with an intensity that almost makes me laugh. As if there’s any chance someone is going to lunge out of the shelves and come after Violet.

“How did you know that?” She lowers her voice as a group of second-years passes, their expressions somber as they debate the merits of two different historians.

“I did my research on you after I was…you know…assigned. And Aelin is really gossipy.” He shakes his head. “I’ve seen you practicing this week with those blades of yours, Sorrengail. Riorson was right. You would have been wasted as a scribe.”

“Hey, I’m not ‘gossipy’, you moron.” I scowl at him.

“That remains to be seen.” She answers both of us.

At least challenges haven’t resumed. Guess enough of us are dying during flight lessons to hold off on killing more through hand-to-hand.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” Violet asks suddenly.

“Alive.” He shrugs.

“How do you know Xaden anyway?”

“Riorson and I were fostered at the same estate after the apostasy,” he says, using the Tyrrish term for the rebellion.

“You were fostered?” Her mouth drops open.

Fostering the children of aristocrats was a custom that died out after the unification of Navarre more than six hundred years ago.

“Well, yeah.” He shrugs again. “Where did you think the kids of the traitors”—he flinches at the word—“went after they executed our parents?”

“I didn’t think.” She admits it in a meak voice.

Oh, Vi. I didn’t know her mother never mentioned it to her. It seems I am much more informed on the subject. Thanks to The General…

“Most of our great houses were given to nobles who had remained loyal.” He clears his throat. “As it should be.”

I don’t bother agreeing with what’s obviously a conditioned reply. King Tauri’s response after the rebellion was swift, even cruel.

The burning of Aretia, which had been Tyrrendor’s capital, to the ground had never sat well with me, though. Liam was the same age. It wasn’t his fault his mother had broken faith with Navarre. And I’m sure there’s more to it.

“But you didn’t go with your father to his new home?” Violet asks.

His gaze swings toward her, and his brow furrows. “It’s hard to live with a man who was executed on the same day as my mother.”

“No. No, that’s not right. Your father was Isaac Mairi, right? I’ve studied all the noble houses in every province, including Tyrrendor.”

“Yes. Isaac was my father.” He tilts his head, looking toward the area where Jesinia disappeared, and I get the distinct feeling he is over this conversation.

“But he wasn’t a part of the rebellion.” She shakes her head, trying to make sense of it. “He isn’t on the death roll of the executions from Calldyr.”

“You read the death roll from the Calldyr executions?” His eyes flare.

“I needed to see that someone was on it.” She admits it.

He draws back slightly. “Fen Riorson.”

She nods. “He killed my brother at the Battle of Aretia. But your father wasn’t on that roll.”But Liam was—as a witness.

“Vi, enough.” I try to stop her. We should not tear open his wounds.

She glances at me and I can see the understanding in her eyes.“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“He was executed at our family’s house.” His features tighten. “Before it was given to another noble, of course. And yes, I watched as they did it that time, too. I already had the rebellion relic by then, but the pain was the same.” He looks away, his throat working. “Then I was sent to Tirvainne to be fostered by Duke Lindell, the same as Riorson. My little sister was sent elsewhere.”

“They separated you?” Her jaw practically unhinges.

He nods. “She’s only a year younger than me, though, so I’ll get to see her when she enters the quadrant next year. She’s strong, quick, and has good balance. She’ll make it.” The edge of panic in his tone reminds me of Mira.

“She will make it, Liam. And after that we’ll be there to help her.” I grab his hand and squeezes it.

“She could always choose another quadrant,” Violet says softly, hoping it will soothe him.

He blinks at her. “We’re all riders.”

„What?”

“We’re all riders. It was part of the deal. We’re allowed to live, allowed a chance to prove our loyalty, but only if we make it through the Riders Quadrant.” He stares at her in bewilderment. “You don’t know?”

“I mean…” she shakes her head. “I know that the children of the leaders, the officers, were all forced into conscription, but that’s all. A lot of those treaty addenda are classified.”

“I personally think the quadrant was chosen to give us the best chance of rising in rank, but others…” He grimaces. “Others think it’s because the death rate is so much higher for riders, so they were hoping to kill us all off without having to do it themselves. I’ve heard Imogen say they originally figured the dragons have unimpeachable honor, so they’d never bond a marked one in the first place, and now they don’t quite know what to do with us.”

“How many of you are there?” I ask him, because I don’t know the exact number.

“Xaden’s never?” He pauses. “Sixty-eight of the officers had kids under the age of twenty. There are one hundred and seven of us, all who carry rebellion relics.”

„The oldest is Xaden,” I murmur.

He nods. “And the youngest is almost six now. Her name is Julianne.”

I think I’m going to be sick. “Is she marked?”

“She was born with it.”

I understand it was done by Codagh, but what the fucking hell? My father is a monster.

“And it’s all right that you ask. Someone should know. Someone should remember.” His shoulders rise and fall as he breathes deeply. He suddenly turns toward Violet. “Anyway, is it hard for you to be in here? Or is it more of a comfort thing?”

Subject change noted.

„It’s like coming home, but not. And it’s not that it’s changed—this place never changes. Hell, I think change is the mortal enemy of a scribe. But I’m starting to realize that I’ve changed. I don’t quite fit here. Not anymore.”

“Yeah. I get that.” Something in his voice tells me he really does.

That’s when Jesinia reappears, the cart laden with the requested tomes.

“I have everything here for you,” she signs, then gestures to the scroll on top. “And that is for Professor Markham.”

“We’ll make sure he gets it,” Violet promises, leaning forward to take the cart. Her high collar shifts, and Jesinia gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth.

“Oh gods, Violet. Your neck!” Her hand movements are sharp.

“It’s nothing.” She puts her collar back in place, covering the ring of yellowing bruises, and Liam reaches across me, taking the cart. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

She bobs her head and wrings her hands as we turn for the door. Pierson closes it after we pass into the hallway.

“Riorson taught me to fight during the years he was at Tirvainne.” Liam’s change of subject is appreciated and no doubt intentional once again. I still feel terrible. My farher is a monster. There’s no doubt about it. “I’ve never seen anyone move the way he does. He’s the only reason I made it through the first round of challenges. He might not show it, but he takes care of his own.” He glances toward me with a smirk.

“Are you trying to sell me on his finer points?” I ask as we make the ascent.

We round the corner and take the path past the Healer Quadrant.

“How can you do this anyway? Guard someone whose own mother oversaw the wing that captured yours?” Vi asks before he could answer.

“Wondering if you can trust me?” He flashes another easy grin.

“Yes.” The answer is simple.

He laughs, the sound echoing off the tunnel walls and glass windows of the clinic. “Good answer. All I can say is that your survival is essential to Riorson’s, and I owe him everything. Everything.” He looks me straight in the eye for that last word, even as the cart hits a raised stone in the paved corridor.

The scroll on top tumbles to the floor, and Violet retrieves it and it unrolls along the slight slope of the passage.

“Got it.”

The thick parchment isn’t eager to roll back into place, and when she looks at it, she pauses.

“What does it say?” Liam asks.

“Sumerton was attacked.” She flips the scroll to see if it’s marked as classified, but it isn’t.

“On the southern border?” He looks as confused as I feel.

“Yeah.” She nods. “It’s another high-altitude attack, too, if I remember my geography correctly. It says a supply convoy was looted.” She reads a little further. “And the community storage in nearby caves was ransacked. But that doesn’t make sense. We have a trade agreement with Poromiel.”

“A raiding party, then.” I say.

She shrugs. “No clue. Guess we’ll hear about it in Battle Brief today.”

Attacks along our southern borders are rising, all with the same description. Mountain villages are being torn apart wherever the wards weaken.

I hear an enermous growl.

„Sorrengail?” Liam looks over at her, concern etched between his brows.

“Tairn’s awake,” she manages to say, clutching her stomach. „Does it ever get any easier?” Being tackled by what they’re feeling?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Aon is pretty good at keeping his emotions to himself, but sometimes I can’t separate myself from him.”

Liam winces. “Deigh keeps pretty good control of himself, but when he’s angry?” Liam shakes his head. “It’s supposed to help once they start channeling and we have the power to shield them out, but you know Carr isn’t going to bother with us until that happens.”

I’d already assumed Liam didn’t have his abilities yet, considering he’s with us in every single class, but it’s comforting to know he’s still in the waning population of powerless riders with me.

“So neither Aon nor Tairn has started channeling to you, either, right?” Liam asks, a look of uncertainty, vulnerability on his face.

I shake my head. “I think he has commitment issues,” I whisper.

“I heard that.”

“Then stay out of my head.”

Suddenly waves of emotions washes over me.

„Don’t be an ass.”

I swear I hear him chuff a chuckle in response.

“We’d better hurry or we’ll miss breakfast.” Liam says.

“Right.” Violet finishes rolling the scroll and put it back on the cart.

---

“I want to be like the cool kids,” Rhiannon grumbles as first-years from Second and Third Wings pour out of the stairwell of the turret that leads up to Professor Carr’s classroom that afternoon, further clogging the hallway on our way to Battle Brief.

“We will,” Violet promises, linking her arm through hers.

“You may be cool, but you will never be as cool as I am!” Ridoc pushes past Liam and me, and throws his arm over Violet’s shoulder.

“She’s talking about everyone who’s already channeling,” I explain, juggling my books so I don’t drop them. “Though at least if we’re not channeling, we’re not stressed about manifesting a signet before the magic kills us.” The relic on my back tingles.

“Oh, I thought we were discussing how I just owned that physics test.” He grins. “Definitely the highest score in the class.”

Rhiannon rolls her eyes. “Please. I scored five points higher than you.”

“We stopped counting your grades months ago.” He leans forward slightly. “Your grades in that class make it unfair for the rest of us.” He looks between Liam and me. “Wait. What did you get, Melgren? Mairi?”

“Not getting into the middle of this,” Liam responds.

“Me neither” I laugh at him.

I had pretty good scores. Only thanks to Liam. Despite of his assignment, he still has time to study with me. And I will be eternally grateful to him.

I smile at him as we’re entering the bottleneck of cadets to get into the briefing room.

“Sorry, Sorrengail,” someone says, stepping out of the way and tugging their friend with them as we enter the tiered classroom.

“Nothing to be sorry about!” She calls out, but they’re already headed up a few rows. “I’m never going to get used to that.”

“It definitely makes getting places easier,” Rhiannon teases her as we descend the steps that curve along the massive turret.

We find our row and walk to our seats, sitting as a squad among the first-years.

The room buzzes with energy as riders file in, and I can’t help but notice that no one has to stand anymore. Our numbers have decreased exponentially in the last four months. The number of empty chairs is sobering. We lost another first-year yesterday when he got too close to another rider’s Red Scorpiontail on the flight field. One second he was standing there, and the next he was a scorched patch of earth. I kept as close to Aon as possible the rest of the session.

My scalp prickles, but I fight the urge to turn around.

“Riorson just got here,” Liam says with mirth in his voice from the seat to my left, breaking from the little dragon figurine he’s carving and looking up the rows toward the third-years.

“Figured.” I hold up my middle finger to him and keep my eyes forward.

He just loves teasing me. Asshole.

Liam snorts and grins, flashing his dimple. “Now, that we’re talking about Xaden. I noticed that you two are always bickering. Tell me, is it fun pissing off the most powerful rider in the quadrant? ”

“You could try it yourself and find out,” I suggest, opening my notebook to the next empty page. I can’t turn around. I won’t. Wanting Xaden is fine. It has to be. Indulging the impulses it gives me? That’s asinine.

“That’s going to be a no from me.” He shakes his head.

I lose the battle with my self-control and look over my shoulder. Sure enough, Xaden is seated in the top row next to Garrick, mastering the art of looking bored. He gives Liam a nod, which Liam returns.

Then he concentrates on his carving, which looks a lot like his Red Daggertail, Deigh.

“Then you should focus on Vi. She is you’re assignment, not me.” I shot back.

“I swear, you’d think there were assassination attempts on me during every class with the way he makes you shadow me.” She shakes her head.

“In his defense, people are fond of trying to kill you.” Rhiannon sets out her supplies.

“One time! It’s happened one time, Rhi!” She says as she adjusts her posture.

“Right. And what would you call that whole thing with Tynan?” Rhiannon asks.

“Threshing.” She shrugs.

“And Barlowe’s constant threats?” I arch a brow at her.

“She has a point there,” Sawyer chimes in, leaning forward from the seat next to Rhiannon’s.

“They’re just threats. The only time I’ve actually been targeted was at night, and it’s not like Liam here is sleeping in my bedroom.”

„I mean, I’m not opposed—” he begins, his knife hovering over the piece of wood.

“Don’t even start.” She whips her head to face him and she blushes. “You are a shameless flirt.”

“Thank you.” He grins and goes back to carving.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Don’t mind her, she’s just sexually frustrated. Makes a girl crabby.” I say and write the date down on the empty page with my quill. Those easy, mess-less pens some of the others can already use is just another reason I can’t wait to channel. No more quills. No more inkpots.

„That has nothing to do with it.” She shots me a glare.

“And yet I don’t hear you denying it.” I smile sweetly at her.

“I’m sorry I don’t make the cut,” Liam teases. “But I can review a couple candidates, especially if it means you’ll stop being so edgy.”

“And how exactly would you be reviewing candidates? What will you be scoring?” Rhiannon asks, one eyebrow raised above her wide grin. “This I have to hear.”

I manage a straight face for all of two seconds before laughing at how horrified he suddenly looks.

“Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll make sure to run any potential liaisons by you.” Violet teases him.

“I mean, you could watch,” Rhiannon continues, blinking innocently at him. “Just to be sure she’s fully covered. You know, so no one…sticks it to her.”

“Oh, are we telling dick jokes now?” Ridoc asks from my other side. “Because my entire life has led up to this very moment.”

Even Sawyer laughs.

“Fuck me,” Liam mutters under his breath. “I’m just saying that since you’re protected at night now—” We laugh harder, and he blows out a deep breath.

“Wait.” Vi stops laughing. “What do you mean I’m protected at night? Because you’re next door? Please tell me he’s not making you sleep in the hallway or something obnoxious.”

“No. Of course not. He warded your door the morning after the attack.” His expression clearly says she should know this. “I’m guessing he didn’t tell you?”

“He what?”

“He warded your door,” Liam says, quieter this time. “So only you can open it.”

“But if he’s the one who warded it, then he can get in, too, right?” I ask.

„Well, yeah.” Liam shrugs as Professors Markham and Devera walk down the stairs, heading for the front of the room. “But it’s not like Riorson is going to kill her.”

“Right. You see, I’m still adjusting to that little change of heart.” I fumble my quill and it falls to the ground, but before I can lean over, the shadows beneath the arm of my desk lift the instrument like an offering. I pluck it out of the shadows and look back at Xaden.

He’s locked in conversation with Garrick, not paying me a speck of attention.

Except, apparently, he is.

“If we can get started?” Markham calls over the room, and we fall silent as he places the scroll we had delivered to him before breakfast on the podium. “Excellent.”

I write Sumerton down at the top of the page and Liam trades his knife for a quill.

“First announcement,” Devera says, stepping forward. “We’ve decided that not only will the winners of this year’s Squad Battle receive bragging rights—” She grins like we’re in for a treat. “But they’ll also be given a trip to the front lines to shadow an active wing.”

Cheers break out all around us.

“So if we win, we get a chance to die sooner?” Rhiannon whispers.

“Maybe they’re trying a reverse psychology thing.” I glance at the others around us who are clearly overjoyed and worry about their sanity. Either I am a fool or everyone else.

“You crave the action just as much as they do, little one.”

“Don’t you have better things to do with your day than listen in on my private thoughts?”

“Not particularly. Now pay attention.”

“Stop butting in and maybe I can,” I counter.

Aon chuffs. One day I might be able to translate that sound, but it’s not today.

“I know the Squad Battle doesn’t commence until spring,” Devera continues, “but I figured that news would give you all the proper motivation to apply yourselves in every area leading up to the challenges.”

Another cheer resounds.

“And now that we have your attention.” Markham lifts his hand and the room quiets. “The front lines are relatively quiet today, so we’re going to take this opportunity to dissect the Battle of Gianfar.”

My quill hovers above my notebook. Surely he didn’t say that.

The mage lights rise to the Cliffs of Dralor that separate Tyrrendor, lifting the entire province thousands of feet above the rest of the Continent, before shining brightest on the ancient stronghold along the southern border. “This battle was pivotal to the unification of Navarre, and though it happened more than six centuries ago, there are important lessons that still impact our flight formations to this day.”

“Is he serious?” I whisper to Liam.

“Yeah.” Liam’s grip bends his quill. “I think he is.”

“What made this battle unique?” Devera asks, her eyebrows raised. “Bryant?”

“The stronghold was not only set for a siege,” the second-year says from high above us, “but was equipped with the first cross-bolt, which proved lethal against dragonkind.”

“Yes. And?” Devera prompts.

“It was one of the final battles where gryphons and dragons actually worked alongside each other to annihilate the army of the Barrens,” the second-year continues.

I glance left and right, watching the other riders begin to take notes. Surreal. This is just…surreal.

None of them knows what we do, that an entire village of Navarrians was ransacked last night along the border and supplies looted. And yet, we’re discussing a battle that happened before the convenience of indoor plumbing was invented.

“Now, pay close attention,” Markham lectures. “Because you’ll be turning in a detailed report in three days and drawing comparisons to battles from the last twenty years.”

“Was that scroll marked classified?” Liam asks under his breath.

“No,” Violet responds just as quietly. “But maybe I missed it?”

The battle map doesn’t even show activity near that mountain range.

“Yeah.” He nods, scratching his quill against the parchment as he begins to take notes. “That has to be it. You missed it.”

I blink, forcing my hand through the motions of writing about a battle I’ve analyzed dozens of times with The General. Liam’s right. That’s the only possible explanation. Our clearance isn’t high enough, or maybe they haven’t finished gathering all the information needed to form an accurate report.

Or it had to have been marked classified. We just missed it.

Or…they withold information from us.

I need to speak with The General. Somehow I have to gather more information.

“Careful, little one. You need to be careful when you uncover the secrets.” I hear Aon’s warning.

#fourth wing #fanfiction #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #violet sorrengail #liam mairi #xaden riorson #oc #the empyrean #xaden x oc #xaden riorson x oc #dragons #rhiannon matthias #sawyer fourth wing #ridoc gamlyn

[metabolizemotions]

The creative choices on the show are as subjective as each of the viewer's interpretations.

I think a lot of why I personally feel deeply uncomfortable n resistant is the asymmetry.

I get the need for variety. The same thing may be expressed differently for different characters. A healing journey will differ from person to person. Each step is also taken on a personalized timeline.

But I can't help but think of the asymmetry of how the show dealt with Mason vs Beckett n even Dixon. They condemned Mason immediately at his worst but dug deep to show the sides of Beckett n Dixon that were still human despite it all.

The trigger shot scene with Beckett felt like 0 to 100 in his reconciliation with Maya. It felt like a 12-step program of which he skipped many steps when it came to Maya. From the get-go, we saw a sexist, incompetent captain who was demeaning to his team n constantly put them under stress n in danger, on top of endangering civilians n even equipment. For months, we saw this middle-aged man in a position of power, take perverse joy in bullying a younger female subordinate to appease his ego. That was workplace harassment. He also took out his unresolved trauma on the people around him, in this case, people he had authority over. Alcoholism was not the sole reason for all his bad behavior. Even if it was, it should not be used to excuse it.

The team, esp Maya, was trapped in this hostile work environment sanctioned by the female chief. This was a more common n insidious manifestation of toxic masculinity, one that was amplified by his position of power, n sometimes even supported by women, when their goals aligned in the power struggle.

Yet the show gave so much more grace n compassion to the bullies than the bullied. The team treated Beckett n Ross with more kindness n respect than they earned, n less kindness n more apathy towards Maya than she deserved.

Then he was given a long, carefully constructed redemption arc, while Mason, a rushed condemnation arc.

It felt like 100 to 0 with Mason. We saw Mason briefly in earlier seasons, mainly thru the eyes of Maya. We missed a lot of the in b/w. We caught him again at his worst. We only saw the side that was full of hate ideology, but not his side that was also human. We knew about his addiction n homelessness. But we didn’t see how as a young abused person w/o positive role models n a support system, he was vulnerable to these hate groups, which he clung to, when offered him just a semblance of belonging or respect. He had not learned to let go of his resentment of their parents n Maya but taught to transfer this unresolved hate to fill a meaning void.

The scene itself b/w Maya n Mason was great. It was an urgent n imperative story to tell. Maya's actions were right n necessary. But in the bigger scheme of things, it felt like a quick tie-up of loose ends, of a once-beloved brother, who came n went abruptly. Despite it being a logical narrative choice to wrap up the nature/nurture discussions of Marina n discovery that Maya's deepest fears about herself manifested in her bro instead. It's heartbreaking n yet disheartening that it was again about queer hate when it came to another main queer character on the show.

It is just jarring to juxtapose Mason with Beckett in 703 then 707. Also juxtaposing his empathy towards Maya with the lack thereof from the others, despite everyone having just been thru 706 n having witnessed Maya's breakdown. So, in a way, I see the actions of these characters as being designed with the goal to emphasize Beckett's empathetic side, in support of his arc.

When looking at a scene with 2 scene partners, what it is really about? Who it is really for? Would the scene be the same if one is replaced?

There are many different takes on this. For me, it was really about Maya, but choosing Beckett as the scene partner made the scene more for him. If it were for Maya, other scene partners would be more meaningful n realistic. Esp those who earned their right for her to be vulnerable with. Maya, who bottled her feelings, let alone spill her deeper emotions, to someone whom she never had a proper conversation with, not to mention a fraught shared history. To add, alone in a small enclosed space, while administering a shot that made her even more vulnerable.

For the realism argument, this was not more realistic to me than having Carina, for a show which took a lot of liberties. It was a choice to design the circumstances to make Carina n the others unavailable n combine 2 scenes together. Carina's also Maya's life partner n best friend. A more realistic choice for Maya to share this devastating heartbreak n grieving process with. It was a big aspect of their marriage. We saw many discussions b/w them yet when it finally came to the conclusion, it was with the least likely person, an almost stranger.

I see the trigger shot as part of Marina's baby journey I wish we get to see them undergoing together. It reminded me of 5b in that Marina's story about their own baby journey - again with someone of a fraught shared history, of a different nature - was more about him n to lead to his own bio family story. Marina's story was messy n got nowhere. And here we r, seasons later, rushing thru it.

It's not that Maya/ Carina or Marina should not have scenes with others. It's that it's usually more about the others even if it's their storyline. Or they r the backdrop for others' drama. They either isolate Marina or suddenly include them or one of them in an in-depth discussion of their private matters with others, usually something we hear about for the first time. I just don't remember something like that happening with other characters. Is it too much to ask to see a married w|w couple, with little screentime, share a meaningful conversation or moment first, also or exclusively? We so rarely see such a rep on TV. The show is not about Marina, but shouldn't their own story reasonably prioritize them?

#this is just my personal take on this #this is in no way to invalidate other takes #i'm sorry i really don't know how to be succinct #my fav thing abt fandom #is to talk. cry. laugh. be silly n fangirl tog #abt fictional chs #or actors #i love to see diff povs even if i may disagree w #when expressed respectfully #i love #discussions #or see details someone noticed #interesting connections... #feelings r valid #but povs r subjective #my 2 cents is #it's ok to like only one ch #or all #hav opinions on everything #or accept everything #u decide what u want out of it #viewers have opinions #agreeing w everything is in itself an opinion #i rant a lot abt the decisions bts #it doesnt mean i don't respect their hard work #my opinion is just my pov #it's not more right or better just diff #it's my way to make sense of this #station 19 comments #station 19

[uhadoreable]

Hi. I did it again. This chapter will probably be pretty gosh darn long too, so sorry in advanced.

Ghost x Soap

TW: Ghost really doesn’t have soaps best intentions in mind, Makarov would do him better, I keep yapping, Scottish women can’t even translate soaps crap

Dog Bleeding Goodness (2)

If the gods asked Soap to design a drug to curse humankind into addiction, he’d let it be Ghost’s voice.

That raspy, slightly too raspy, yet gruff voice that echoed from behind his dirty skull balaclava etched a shiver into his spine, sent him whipping his head around to meet Ghost’s gaze a little too fast.

Loosing out on any attempts on subtleness.

“Aye, LT, bet’n you could loosin’ up, aye?”

His words were loose, lost in vowels after just a drop too much alcohol. It was crappy alcohol, but it got the job done. It left Soap feeling just the smallest sparks of a high, being left on edge and hoping to lose all sense of worldly convictions.

Yet, Ghost said nothing. Just watched.

It drove Soap mad. Made him look like a foaming and rabid dog how his body stiffened and silenced itself, how he blocked out the world around them, until he could hear the soft breaths of his lieutenant. It wasn’t that he needed to hear Ghost speak, no, he was just - being a good sergeant for his commanding officer.

And he surely wasn’t waiting for any praise.

No.

No, god no.

He would never steal his own breath away and deprive his blood of oxygen until he could hear Ghost purr out the most lack luster praise. That would be insane, improbable, unlikely.

And it surely didn’t get himself even higher to look at Ghost.

“We have a mission to get through, don’t get yourself too drunk.”

As if the crummy beer was ever even a little capable of getting Soap drunk.

But if Soap contorted his words enough in his head, changed how Ghost stared at him with such blandness in his mind, it felt like Ghost cared.

Which was insane to say, so he decided to shut his maw on it. Ghost didn’t care for other people, didn’t let his heart yearn for others, he especially wouldn’t love a man like his sergeant.

Yet Soap, for some odd reason, appreciated contorting and changing how Ghost spoke in his head to fit the catalyst of a delusion that Ghost did. He liked to believe that Ghost said these things, watched him with such a firing blaze, because he liked him.

“Aye, wouldnae’ upset ye’”

And that was that.

Ghost nodded and then looked away.

Their conversations were never long, never anything worth much. They were worth so little, the men having the smallest party around them didn’t care to butt in. Didn’t interrupt like most drunk men would do when anybody had any sort of semblance of a good thing happening.

That’s how he knew he had nothing.

————————————————————————

Soap’s job was to blow crap up, push into buildings, and then maybe get what the brass ordered them to get, assuming he didn’t end up in a massive dog fight first.

Sniping was nowhere in that job.

But some old cat stumbled along back into the task force and the ever so subtle pushover Price was, pushed Soap out of his main role so said old geezer could have a swing at nostalgia.

But sniping was Ghost’s job.

He did fine without him, it was insane he even had to group up with a man who was just edging his forties and could handle sniping on his own without another soul’s help.

He should be down there, fighting, taking on fights - not watching them from atop a hill.

The only good that came out of it was that his body was almost painfully close to Ghost, just close enough that when he did take a good shot, or didn’t move around as much as a teen on their first line, Ghost would whisper out some generic praise.

A good man, good work Johnny, good work Soap.

When the older man whispered out Johnny, that’s when Soap really got still, almost begging for Ghost to keep going, and he never did.

He kept it tactical, Soap, well Soap was damned to spend his hours walking across an unsure line. The kind of line where he didn’t know what beast rested on either side but found himself more keen to figure that out than what was at the end of the line.

He would gladly throw his safety and well being away, his chance at a tomorrow, to find out what he was to Ghost and what Ghost wanted him to be.

It was only after a particularly good shot that Ghost praised him the most, almost made Soap open up his jaw to demand more. Almost.

“Good work Johnny, keep your eye steady, good man.”

It was a compound of every praise that was generic enough to rip out his control and force him to look at Ghost. Force a small smile dusting his face before Ghost’s glare turned sharp again. A compound of everything he was velvety weak to.

It was only natural the small gasp he let out, his thoughts muffled into nothing, his head felt shockingly empty for once. There were no buzzing race tracks of thoughts and feelings, it was just the quiet and loving buzz of praise from a man he’d convince even god himself he wasn’t in love with.

And maybe, maybe just once, it would’ve done him favors to forgo his mission if only for a second and glance at Ghost.

Look at him as Ghost glared daggers into his soul.

He knew why he always stared at Soap now, fragile things, good things, would always find their way into the maw of a hungry creature.

And Ghost was starved.

A starving dog realizing he’d been chasing after a high quality slab of steak.

Whatever that rotten head was pondering, staring was soon a promise to be the least of Ghost’s efforts to sink his rapid maw in.

#ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #i will not explain #i need a lobotomy

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

Hello. Okay, so I'm going to start this off with 'this might be an crazy thing to ask'.

I just saw your post from January about Nana Shimura, and I feel like I'm insane.

I'm legitimately not trying to be belligerent here, but can you please explain to me, in your opinion, why you think that it is Nana's fault for anything that has happened in relation to her? I'm just trying to understand, because I don't see how anything could necessarily be her fault solely. Specifically when talking about the 'creation' of Tomura.

If AFO had wanted to get his hands on someone from that bloodline, if only to be a bastard or whether it was for an actual reason, he would have done it regardless of what Nana's choices would have been.

And I can't help but notice the fact that all of this skips an entire generation. Everyone is so quick to blame Nana for doing what humans do, I.E. having a husband and a child, and I feel I'm not really qualified to speak on that front because I never have wanted children and I don't foresee that changing at this ripe old age I'm at, so I'm not even going to go into whether or not I think it was wrong of her to have a family.

I just find it very interesting that people are blaming Nana for something that happened literal years after her own physical death. Things that happened at the hands of her own son. Things that would have never happened had it not been for her son, that she had no part in.

It's just that the way I see it, that man had years upon years to come to terms with what his mother had done in order to protect him, but in the end he failed anyway. Whether he knew it or not he failed more than his own mother did. He failed and he gave his fucking own child over to this horrible person, and he couldn't have been completely ignorant of that, let's be honest. Whether or not what she did was the right choice, Nana gave him up for a reason, and the fact that he couldbut possibly put himself in his mother's shoes, after how many years? Is more telling of him than it is of her.

Even if what Nana did wasn't the right choice, then what WAS the right choice? How was there a wrong or a right choice when you could never possibly predict the outcomes of whatever you chose to do? In my opinion, people are trying to pin everything on Nana when all she was doing was doing the best she could with what she was given, and I think that's unfair and stupid.

I haven't been following you for long, but I've seen your posts for quite a while, so I actually do respect your opinion, which is why I am asking you.

I really don't like the way Horikoshi writes women as a whole in this particular story, and I don't know if that's a track record of his or if this is his only work or whatever, I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing. And that's a whole other post for another time. But I just find it really weird that everyone seems to be coming after Nana while simultaneously defending her son, when her own son is the one who is committing these atrocities long after she is dead?I find it very weird indeed.

Sorry for the long post, I have far too many feelings about MHA.

First of all, sorry for taking so long to answer and thank you for taking the time to write this ask 💜

Nana Shimura is one of my favorite bnha female characters because of how complex and flawed she is!!!

Here's the short answer:

Regardless of the actions of the people around her, Nana Shimura had a responsibility with her son as a mother and with the world as a hero.

We all have to make decisions without knowing the outcomes. That's life. It doesn't absolve us from the consequences of our actions. It also doesn't mean we are evil, but simply human. It is in our nature to make mistakes and make bad decisions sometimes.

It seems extremely harsh to judge a woman for doing her best against an enemy that was so much stronger than her, but that's the whole point of writing a character like Nana. There are no easy answers.

What was the correct thing to do instead of abandoning Kotaro? How could she have won against AFO? How could one (1) woman do both and do it well?

Nana isn't responsible for what Kotaro did so many years after she left him, but she did leave him. She had a son and then left him because she needed to be a hero. We don't know the exact circumstances of how she had Kotaro, but many fans ask why she had him if she knew her hero job would put him at such risk. Or why she chose to be a hero over being his mother.

Logically, we know it was to save the world. It's just that her choice isn't black and white. She caused a lot of pain in doing what she did, even if she contributed to a lot of joy.

AFO defeating her was inevitable. Like her OFA predecessors, they were alone on their journey. See, it took Deku an army to fight AFO and his influence.

There's also the fact that Nana took Toshinori in after she left Kotaro. Of course she only did it because the kid meant to sacrifice himself for the cause just like her, but it doesn't erase the parallel between Toshinori and Kotaro. One got to enjoy her company until she died because he had the right conditions to be her heir while the other lost her forever because she loved him.

Sadly, her love didn't save Kotaro and didn't make All Might's life easier.

Any person with responsibilities is a person with failures. That rings true for every single bnha hero and villain.

The way I see it, people either have a reason to hate her or not.

Some dislike her 'cause she left Kotaro. Some are unreadable in their judgment and hate her just because she is a woman. Some just dislike her general writing or don't enjoy her type of character.

At the end of the day, Nana Shimura is still a tremendous female character. She inspired All Might himself (he who is hailed as the best hero of all times). She faced AFO alone and she died mocking him with a smile. She sacrificed her happiness and all the things dear to her in order to save the world. Nana passed down OFA and kept hope alive in a time full of violence and chaos. She is one of the best female pro-heroes to have existed and the only female OFA user. He was freaking jacked with muscle because her quirk was float.

Her flaws depict her greatness and the weight on her shoulders. Nana Shimura, everyone.

#shan's asks #bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha spoilers #bnha spoilers #nana shimura