#I should really stop writing posts like this at this time I can barely write without dozing off | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pomefioredove · 2 months

Text

now I'm actually invested in this idea. maybe I'll write a full length fic someday idk... for now I have short hcs

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim | bad ending

summary: crowley decides to "give away" yuu to the highest "donation" for financial reasons type of post: headcanons characters: all nrc students additional info: can be read as platonic or romantic, except malleus is pretty romantic, second person pov, yuu is gender neutral, maybe a little ooc I wrote this as soon as I got up

crowley has had his fair share of "what the fuck" moments from you but this was really taking the cake

he acts so... casual about it?

swaggers into ramshackle one morning and says times are tough and your personal expenses are straining the budget so he's decided to "put you in someone else's care"

"The screening process will be vigorous to make sure you end up in good hands!" like you're a cat or something "Your expenses will be covered and you'll have somewhere to go during break!"

okay great. pretty obvious you have no say in this, so you don't even argue. what's the worst that could happen?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel find you the next day to say they're pooling their money to buy you

"To what?"

Epel shrugs. "Oh, well Crowley said we need to offer a donation to prove we're capable of supporting you..."

(you think that if not for the laws of this land you would have slaughtered that old fart)

Jack goes on a really long tirade about how shady and underhanded this is, making sure to reaffirm that he believes you should be free to make your own choices

"So you'll let me go once you get me?"

"Uhhh..."

Ace thinks once they buy you you'll have no choice but to do all of his homework for him

Deuce says that's not really how it works- and even if he tried, Riddle would kill him

(they've already gone over this twice before finding you)

Epel happily volunteers to take you home with him over breaks, probably the only positive in this mess

even if he thinks the whole thing is kind of funny

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

incapable of keeping his mouth shut, Ace accidentally spills the plan to Riddle, who is understandably aghast

you can't just give away a person under your care like a toy!

of all the irresponsible things...

of course, he'll have to put up his offer, too

purely for your sake! with a nicer room and a brand new copy of the dorm rules, maybe you'll stop getting yourself into trouble

he's got some family money (doctors, naturally) and considers this a worthwhile purchase, for his sanity and yours

of course, Trey and Cater overhear and may or may not be pooling their own cash for a chance, too

going behind Riddle's back on this is a risky venture, but hey, someone's gotta be on your side, here, right?

I mean, between a bunch of sixteen year old boys, the housewarden, and them, who would you choose?

actually don't answer that

...not that it's much of a secret, anyway. Cater's already got their gofundme equivalent link in bio

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona initially plans to have you become a live-in lackey like Ruggie

but then he really starts thinking- and, hey, the possibilities are endless, right?

for one, you'd make a really good pillow

he might have to kick Grim out for your full attention, but you could learn to live with that

and malleus would hate it

...that's reason enough for him

plus, he's got money to burn, so why not?

either way, he sets his bid at a reasonable (maybe too confident) price and sits back to watch the chaos unfold as everyone scrambles for a piece of the pie

news travels fast around school, after all

then Ruggie finds out that you could dethrone him as Leona's #2 and is understandably a little annoyed

that's his cushy post-grad job gig, thank you! he's worked hard for that!

besides, why should Leona get to hoard you? the guy can barely take care of himself!

so, Ruggie ends up outsourcing to a few dozen classmates for the necessary funds at a steep I-owe-you price

he's gonna be eating nothing but dandelions for a while...

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

now, Azul is annoyed

once the news goes school-wide, it's all anyone can talk about

talk about good marketing...

why didn't he think of such a brilliant scam? he could have negotiated with Crowley to have a café brand deal tie-in!

of course, he's already set his bid, with Jade and Floyd offering to pitch in as necessary

it's a risky investment, sure, but a worthwhile one

Azul tells everyone that with the prefect's "obvious" popularity, having them at the café a few nights a week would drive sales through the roof

though that's really just what he says to shirk suspicion

a likely excuse coming from him, though, really, it would just be nice having you around

and if not for his own affections, Floyd's incessant begging and Jade's subtly manipulative comments about "how nice" it would be having a new face around would be enough for him to cave eventually

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"Kalim, no," is the first thing that Jamil says

"I strongly advise against this. It's another one of Crowley's silly scams and you could end up a target bec- are you even listening?"

hint: he is not

the second Kalim found out that he could get to take in his favorite magicless student like one of his treasures, he was all over it

(AKA infinite sleepovers)

and for what? a little optional donation to prove he's got the funds? he's got cash to spare!

he's already got your new room in Scarabia set up before he even puts his bid in

right next to his of course :)

and despite what Jamil insists, he himself might be working behind the curtain just a little to ensure he's the one who ends up with you

after all, why should Kalim get everything? this might be a valuable learning opportunity for him

You don't always get what you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

as much as Epel tries to keep the rest of his dorm from finding out, it's inevitable

he's actually a little surprised that the news didn't get to Vil sooner

with Rook around campus, surely he must have said something...

when Vil does find out, though, he just sighs

oh, of course. what next, will everyone meet each other in the arena and fight to the death over the prefect?

of all the silly, immature things...

oh? what's that? he's bidding anyway? of course he is, silly potato. he can't have some unwashed miscreant making you sleep on polyester bedding

(really, he's the only person on campus worthy of your time)

Rook has also been mysteriously absent from the dorm lately, though his initials on a poem and a strangely large sum of money end up in the donation pile

but really, that could be anyone... Rook would never dare betray Vil again, right?

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ortho finds out directly from the other first years and sends Idia the details immediately

with a little note of encouragement, of course: "could be excellent for improving your social skills!"

Idia understandably freaks out

"WTF!!!! nooo way! this is a person, not a chatbot we're talking about here! I can barely keep virtual pets alive!!!!"

(liar)

(...but this is still different)

the conversation ends there, but semi-anonymous bid from someone named "gloomurai" gets cashapp'd directly to crowley

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

everyone in the room immediately turns to Malleus

"For the record, I think it's wrong to be bargaining over a human being," Silver says first. "But if anyone could handle it with grace, it's you."

Lilia laughs. "Oh, you're just saying that because you like the prefect so much!"

"Father, you're the one who likes the prefect so much,"

"Oh, right! carry on then. After all, I'm sure we could share,"

Sebek is the only one relatively against the idea, though Lilia luckily manages to get him to lower his voice after his third speech about how you aren't good enough for his liege

Malleus is rather quiet through the whole evening, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with any of the points made

he disappears for a short while, and when he comes back he seems a little more confident

though, of course, he goes to you first

seeing him at Ramshackle in the middle of the night is a familiar and welcoming sight after all of the chaos of your week

and he's in a great mood!

"Child of man! I've come with news," he says. "I have heard of your predicament and have come up with a solution!"

you immediately sulk. "Oh, no. You know I think this whole thing is terrible, right?"

"Yes, Silver mentioned you might not like the idea of being bought and sold like a trinket. But worry not, I do not plan on paying for you in money,"

you pause, at a loss for words, and then tentatively continue. "You're not...?"

"Of course not. What a primitive idea, I was baffled to hear it myself. My proposal will be more traditional: a modest sum of treasure, and a generous amount of livestock and the finest crop Briar Valley can offer,"

certainly he's not this naive, you think

"You really think Crowley is going to accept that over money? I'm pretty sure Kalim just bid away an entire country's worth,"

he laughs. "You speak as if this is some kind of business deal! I'm quite confident that my dowry will be best,"

huh. that was a strange way of putting it

but then again, you still didn't really understand how things work here, so you go along with it

and you allow yourself to relax. he seems confident in his offer, and he doesn't even see you as some kind of prize to win!

"Oh, well, alright. Thanks! I'm glad you're on it,"

he smiles. "Rest assured, child of man, you're in good hands. My dowry will far outshine the others, and the wedding will be even better,"

"I was honestly getting a little nervous for a momen- wait- wedding!?"

2K notes · View notes

ellemj · 2 months

Text

Off-Limits: Ch. 2

Bucky Barnes x Reader: Mafia AU

Read Ch. 1 here.

Summary: Bucky Barnes took the one thing he couldn't have: you. The only thing is...you didn't even know he'd done it.

Warnings: profanity, possessive!Bucky, mentions of firearms, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Idk what to say about this chapter so on a more personal note...I had a birthday recently and I'm treating myself by writing more smut, getting pampered, and going to bed on time.

James Bucky Barnes isn’t used to having to ask for what he wants. Negotiating is something he’ll only put a very limited amount of effort into, and when it becomes more trouble than it’s worth, he stops negotiating. That’s why he snapped two nights ago in your father’s home office. Well, he won’t admit it to himself or anyone else, but seeing how pretty you looked on your knees was what really made him snap. The pain of negotiating was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

You’re definitely worth negotiating for, more so than anything else he’s ever negotiated for in his lifetime. He gave it a try, but hearing your father once again label you as off-limits would be enough to set anyone off. So, as the man sits quite comfortably in his desk chair, studying his own clean yet metaphorically blood-stained hands, he feels justified in his actions. He fired a couple of rounds, pressed the barrel of his gun to your father’s temple, and took what was his. Well, maybe that’s overstating it a bit.

If he’d really taken what was his in the way that he wanted to, he wouldn’t be so on edge right now. He wouldn’t have had to fuck his hand both last night and this morning just to get you off of his mind long enough to make it into his office today. He knows he could’ve avoided feeling like this if he’d just told your father that he was taking you that night, that he had no say in the matter whatsoever. But no, after maiming two of your father’s men, Bucky pressed his gun to your father’s head and a pen into his hand and he proposed a deal that would keep you from resenting him for the rest of your life. Your father signed whatever he needed to in order to spare his own life, even at the expense of sending his only child into the arms of the city’s most feared man.

You’re the last thing Bucky should be focusing on right now. His eyes flit over to the security monitor on his desk, where he sees his expected guests stepping out of a black SUV one by one and coming to stand near the entrance of his currently closed nightclub. It’s going to be another evening of negotiating. Heaving a deep sigh, Bucky shifts his gaze to the bottom right corner of the screen, where he sees his new assistant sitting just outside of his office. His new assistant who, while so attentive and polite at work, looks at him with the vilest disdain every evening when he escorts her out to the car that carries her home. One would think she’d be nothing but grateful for him, having first spared her father’s life and then taken her on as an assistant with no work experience whatsoever. You really should be grateful.

Unless James Bucky Barnes is so far past pissed that he can barely see straight, it’s hard to tell that he’s feeling anything other than relaxed and calm. For the most part, he’s a very level-headed man. He gives people chances, he understands and accepts small mistakes and mishaps as they occur. Even now, as the three men seated in front of his desk bicker on amongst themselves, taking up entirely too much of his time, Bucky looks almost bored. His gaze routinely darts from the faces of the men in front of him, down to the golden crevices of his vibranium hand as he traces them with his flesh index finger, and then to the watch on his right wrist.

3:58 pm.

Two more minutes, he tells himself.

“This is going to keep happening if we don’t post more men at the docks when a shipment is coming in, and if the men who are supposed to be there keep showing up late.” The first red-faced man snaps, unintentionally hurling a light mist of saliva at the man to his right.

“That’s not on me, I don’t know why you’re looking at me when you say that. I’m doing the best I can with the numbers I have, we’ve lost a few good men lately and I can’t do anything about that.” The man on the right retorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

3:59 pm. Bucky’s eyes roam over to the heavy wooden doors that maintain the privacy of his office. He can hear you standing on the other side of it, taking a deep breath and pushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear before wrapping your little hand around the big metal doorknob. God, he can’t help but imagine your little hand wrapping around something else.

The volume of the argument reaches an all-time high just as you’re tugging the heavy door open. It isn’t surprising that the quiet sound of the door sliding open doesn’t break the men out of their tiff, that only Bucky hears it.

As soon as you’ve stepped into the office and realize what you’ve walked into, you freeze by the door. Your eyes dance over the backs of the three men who sit in front of the desk, watching as they engage with each other but none of them turn around to take notice of you. The only person who looks at you is Bucky, with his steely blue eyes and focused gaze. He watches intently as your own focus shifts to him. You’re fully expecting him to tell you to leave, that your presence isn’t needed at the moment, not when something so important is obviously going down. But he doesn’t. Bucky only stares at you, waiting to see if you’ll do your job and approach his desk.

You take small steps toward the desk, toward the angry men that sit between you and your new boss. It isn’t until you’re halfway across the office that the man in the middle hears the sound of your heels clicking against the hardwood floor and he glances over his shoulder at you. The up-and-down look that he gives you sends a nauseating shiver down your spine while simultaneously making Bucky’s trigger finger itch.

“You let bitches walk in here without knocking?” The middle man asks abruptly, effectively silencing the room with the way he’s just addressed Bucky. As is the norm, not a soul in the room can tell that Bucky’s seething on the inside. He keeps his cool, he remains level-headed as he makes eye contact with the burly man. He offers no words in response, and instead simply chooses to tilt his head slightly to the side as if he’s daring the man to say more. “Run along, little girls shouldn’t be privy to a man’s business. This is no place for you.”

The man’s dark eyes are on you again, sizing you up as he waits to see how long it’ll take for you to listen to his bold command. Again, you freeze, unsure of whether to obey the piece of shit who’s just spoken or to obey Bucky’s rules. You’re too check in with him in his office every evening at four to see if he needs anything else before you leave for the night. It’s why you’re here now, in your tight black skirt, tights, heels, and black knitted sweater. It’s why you’re frozen in place, searching his eyes for any clue as to what you should be doing. Bucky says nothing, he doesn’t even so much as raise an eyebrow at you. So, you turn to head right back out the door.

“Sit.” His tone is commanding and authoritative, ten times more so than the flushed, angry man who tried to tell you what to do only a moment ago. When James Bucky Barnes speaks, everyone listens. You turn around slowly, coming to face the desk again, but you don’t take any steps forward to do as you’ve been asked.

Bucky would like for you to do as you’re told after only being told once. Though, he has to remind himself, you’re new to this. He can give you a little grace. If it takes being told twice for you to listen, he can work with that. But if it takes much more than that? He may have underestimated just how much trouble you’d be for him. As you hold his gaze, he fights the urge to speak again. He told you to sit, you should already be sitting. He narrows his eyes at you in one last effort to get through to you without words. That’s what spurs you into action. He watches as your legs carry you forward slowly. He watches as your eyes coast over the three men, who are staring at you with varied amounts of attraction, annoyance, and shock on their faces. You’re realizing that there isn’t a free chair anywhere in the office. Your first thought is to sit on the corner of Bucky’s mahogany desk, because where the hell else does he want you to sit? You’re making your move to perch there when you meet Bucky’s gaze again.

The harsh, offended look on his face clears things up for you quickly. He most definitely doesn’t want you sitting on his desk. The way he pushes his chair back a few inches and spreads his legs to make room leaves a mix of anger and excitement swirling around within you. You stand there beside his desk, staring at him with a cold expression of your own. With a little tilt of his head to the side and another narrowed look, you find your legs carrying you forward once more, toward the man you’ve always been inexplicably drawn to.

“Who is she to you? We’re not going to sit here and talk business in front of one of your little playthings. She has no part in this.” The bold middle man barks out, directing his anger at Bucky now. Bucky’s in his own world for the moment. The soft curve of your ass is pressing against the junction of his hip and his thigh, the sweet scent of your perfume is making his head spin, and the way your cheeks are turning a gentle shade of pink is making him question every illegal thing he’s ever done. It’s as if he has an actual angel in front of him right now. He’s quiet for a bit too long after the man’s harsh question, and you turn your head to look at your boss. You notice the way his normally hardened gaze softens when you make eye contact with him, the way his pupils dilate in the slightest and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smooth out. You’re lost in him for a moment, lost in the sea of blue that rims his widened pupils, lost in the way your anger seems to be dissipating more and more with every second that you look at him.

Bucky likes that you hold eye contact with him even as he reaches up to his desk with his right hand, even as he wraps his fingers around the gun that he laid there before the meeting began. Even when he aims the gun between the eyes of the man in the middle chair, you’re still lost in his gaze. It isn’t until he pulls the trigger and ends the man’s life right there that your eyes snap shut and your body tenses up. Instinctively, Bucky’s vibranium hand moves to the small of your back to steady you, to make you feel safer.

“Does anyone else have anything to say about my wife?”

That’s the moment you find out that somehow, without your knowledge or agreement, you’re married to James Bucky Barnes.

TAG LIST:

@vicmc624 @emerald-writes @skulliecadaver-blog @globetrotter28 @b3llair3 @steeph-aniie @spiffylittlebug @raging-panda @dozcan123 @sapphirebarnes @sarah1barnes @sunnyhummingbee @gyokujyn @jenniferpendragon @siciliano13 @ordelixx @crist1216 @twlkdead @claireelizabeth85 @charmedbysarge @blackhawkfanatic @kentokaze @eecummingsandgoings @nyashonality @h2oaffirmations @sadeyes61 @aka-tua-braindump @immortalfangirl @valenftcrush @andrometda

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #the winter soldier #winter soldier #mafia bucky barnes #mafia bucky x reader #mafia bucky x you

719 notes · View notes

avatar-anna · 8 days

Text

i saw this post on and got inspired. enjoy!

"It was nice running into you."

"Yeah, yeah, you too. It was—I'm glad we could catch up."

You held your bag in both of your hands and leaned back on your heels, waiting for the sudden tension to cease. Harry scratched his neck awkwardly while you looked down at the cobbled streets beneath your shoes. When a minute passed and neither of you said anything, when two couples excised themselves to walk past you, you finally decided to break the silence.

"I'm headed this way."

"Me too. We can walk together?"

"O—Okay."

Harry extended his arm out, a clear message for you to go first, so you did. For a split second, his hand grazed your lower back in that protective gesture he always used to use when you walked anywhere. But that had been when you were together, and now you weren't, and even though his hand merely hovered awkwardly behind you, you swore you could still feel it.

"Your hair looks nice. I don't think I've ever seen it so short before," you said, needing to break the silence all over again before it consumed you.

"Thanks, I, uh, I shaved it a few months back. It's finally starting to grow in."

It must've been soon after your break up, you realized, quickly doing the math in your head. A change, a fresh start after the end of a long relationship. You understood that, knew neither of you needed to comment on it, or the fact that you no longer wore the necklace Harry bought you for your first anniversary, though you'd seen him glance down at the missing piece of jewelry multiple times since you ran into each other.

"It's cute," you said, resisting the intrusive urge to reach up and touch his hair, instead clasping your hands behind your back.

"Are you across the bridge?" Harry asked, gesturing to one of the many bridges that stretched across the Tiber.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

Harry shrugged, the canvas bag on his shoulder slipping a fraction. "You always liked Trastevere."

You smiled, charmed by how Harry still seemed to know you so intrinsically. "And you? Are you staying in Prati?"

Harry shook his head before waving to a fan who had spotted him. He didn't stop, though, and kept walking beside you, asking about your family, specifically your grandmother, who was his Scrabble partner nearly the entirety of your relationship.

"Good. I play Scrabble with her on the weekends now. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm not a good enough opponent, but she'll never say it to my face."

"Graceful as always, your nan," Harry nodded in agreement. "Probably wouldn't say the same thing about chess, though."

"No, probably not. Do you still play?" you asked, tilting your head up to look at him.

He was so close, close enough that the sleeve of his green shirt grazed your bare arm. Close enough that if you really wanted it to the back of your hand could graze his. Instead you shifted your hand away.

"When I can," Harry said, his mouth twitching as if recalling a memory. "I've been focusing on writing most days, but I play whenever I'm stuck."

"How's that going?"

"How's work?"

"Sorry, go ahead," you said, blushing a little. Would it always be this awkward around him? You hoped not. Harry had been a friend first, and even though you knew you shouldn't,y you missed his companionship some nights. Lots of nights. Most nights.

"No, you go. Catch me up on all the latest drama at work."

So you did, falling back into familiar, neutral territory as you brought Harry up to speed on your co-workers.

Before long, you'd made it to the apartment you were renting, your palms suddenly warm as you searched your purse for your keys. You were stalling, you both knew it, but Harry didn't comment, nor did he leave, didn't offer any reason to finally say goodbye.

You knew this was where it was supposed to end. That a chance encounter with your ex in a foreign country really shouldn't have gone on this long. You knew that, and yet...

"Do you want to come in?" you asked, scrambling for any logical reason as to why Harry should follow you into your apartment. "I—I, uh, I could make us coffee and—"

"Please. I mean—Sure. That would be...that would be fine."

Relief flooded through you, though that was quickly replaced by a guilty sort of anticipation as you unlocked the door to the main building of the apartment, as Harry followed you up a couple flights of stairs, as he waited once again for you to unlock a door. When you were inside, when you set your things down on the small dining table, you turned to face your ex.

Harry's gaze was once again lowered to your collarbones, to the place where the necklace he gave you used to sit. Then he met your eyes, the expression in them clear. It was the first time you'd seen them since running into him today. He'd kept his sunglasses on the whole time, perhaps to hide his expressions more, because now that you properly met his gaze, you saw it all. Those green eyes you still loved so much betrayed his every thought, and you knew yours probably did as well.

It was hard to say who moved first. If you grabbed the front of Harry's shirt before he wrapped an arm around your waist and fisted your hair in his other hand. But none of it mattered when your mouth met his, when your hands traveled up to cup the sides of his face, your thumbs tracing the familiar planes of his face.

A graze of his teeth against your bottom lip had you gasping, had him smiling as if that was the exact reaction he'd been hoping for. You responded in kind by dragging your nails down his scalp, satisfied by the groan that vibrated against your mouth as his tongue caressed yours.

"This isn't—It's not—" you tried to say, losing focus as Harry left a trail of kisses from your jaw to the base of your neck and back up again. "This doesn't mean—"

"I know," Harry breathed, his forehead pressed against yours as he toyed with the bow that held the front of your blouse together. Your breath hitched as his knuckle grazed your exposed stomach. "This doesn't change anything. Now take this off."

You almost made him do it just because he ordered you to, but you knew why he wanted you to be the one to untie the knot of your blouse. It meant you were saying yes to this moment, it meant you were saying yes to doing whatever it was you were about to do.

So you pulled at the blouse until it came undone, leaving it open so it revealed a strip of bare skin going right up the middle of your body. The rest you would leave up to him.

Harry shrugged out of his own sweater and t-shirt before reaching out to push back the shoulders of your shirt until it was off completely, falling into a puddle of fabric at your feet beside his. His gaze alone was too much and not enough, more explicit than it had any right to be. He stood there and drank you in for a full minute as if in a daze, taking in every mark and imperfect like he was reacquainting himself.

It was hard to get the words out, but you managed. "Still broken up?"

"Yeah," Harry said, his eyes still roving over every inch of your body that he could see. Then he blinked as if remembering the situation for what it was. "Yeah, still broken up."

There wasn't much left to say after that, really.

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #ex boyfriendrry #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #ex boyfriend!harry

497 notes · View notes

winterrrnight · 1 month

Text

rafe loves to hear you talk and talk about things you are so passionate about… <3 a rafe x reader blurb <3 cw: reader is chatty and rambl-y and is insecure about it, in this scenario reader is extremely passionate about japanese legends, lovesick rafe + casually dominant rafe, intentional lower case <3 just something for me to post after a small break as I work on other projects <3 for @zyafics who is one of the biggest reasons I am feeling motivated to write again <3

“oh here’s another one I read about yesterday!” you say excitedly as rafe squeezes your intertwined hands, smiling at you.

“mhm go on,” he smiles as you both continue to walk on the sidewalk, the full moon shining bright down at the two of you.

“this one is about the red thread of fate, this thread connects two soulmates,” you smile at him. he looks at you with his eyebrows slightly raised.

“connects two soulmates?” he echoes, and you nod.

“yeah,” you say. “it’s said there is a man who lives on the moon who comes to earth to show people their futures and who they’ll end up with. he does that with the help of the red thread of fate. he ties this invisible red thread between the two people who are meant to be together. this thread can tangle over the huge distance between the two people, it can stretch, but it will never ever break, and it will always tighten to bring those two people together.

“it also talks about the existence of a red pencil which can trace this invisible red thread, and this pencil gets shorter with its usage.

“oh and, this thread is always tied between the pinkies of the two people. that is because it was discovered a long time ago that our heart is connected to our pinky finger by an artery, which is now called the ‘ulnar artery’. this artery carries oxygenated blood from our heart to our pinky. so, in a way, our heart is directly linked to our pinkies via this artery, so when we make a pinky promise, we are basically connecting our hearts while making the promise. and that is why the invisible red thread of fate is also connecting our pinkies, because it is basically connecting the hearts of the soulmates, and–”

you take a look to your left at rafe, who’s looking down at the sidewalk as you both walk. you got so absorbed in talking you don’t even know if he is still listening or if he has tuned you out. honestly, who can blame him? since you keep on talking too much, anyone would quickly tune you out.

“oh god i’m doing it again aren’t i?” you say nervously as you stop in your tracks on the sidewalk, causing rafe to stop too. he eyes you with furrowed brows and creases on his forehead.

the actual truth is, rafe was thinking about tying a red thread to your pinkies when you both get home, his mind racing on where he can actually find some red thread in his house.

“doing what?” rafe asks softly.

“the, the ramble thing, where i just talk and talk till my mouth falls off,” you sigh, looking down. “I do that way too much, i don’t even know if you want to hear it or not but I just start speaking with no seeming end to my talk whatsoever, and you have to force yourself to listen to it because you got stuck being my boyfriend. and then i just keep on talking without thinking, it’s like my mouth has a mind of its own, I really should start to think–”

you are immediately cut off with rafe’s lips on yours, your eyes widening as you try to adjust to what is happening. rafe’s free hand comes to rest on your cheek to pull you even closer into the kiss, and your eyes flutter shut, letting you get lost in the feeling of him.

rafe gently pulls apart from the kiss, his eyes barely open as he gazes down at you.

“listen to me…” he says softly. “you don’t talk too much. I love hearing you talk. I love the cute expressions you make when you talk about things you are passionate about. I love how much knowledge you have about them and how you want to share it with me. I love the shine in your eyes when you start to talk, and the shine is even brighter under the moonlight. never ever apologize for talking too much because I won’t hear it, and you’ll only end up getting kissed by me each time. you get it?”

you look up in rafe’s eyes with a stunned expression. for the first ever time, you are at a loss of words, and all you can do is nod.

he smiles softly at you, as his thumb caresses your cheek. “words, baby, you hear me?” he says softly.

“yeah…” you let out. “I hear you,”

“good,” he mumbles. “never apologize again, okay?”

“okay,” you whisper.

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and tugs on your hand gently, both of you now walking again. “come on, continue what you were saying,” he says, urging you to continue about the legend you were talking about.

you nod as you clear your throat before resuming to tell him more, this time not allowing even a single thought to let you stop as the stream of words spills from your lips, and rafe only listens in awe, loving hearing what it is you have to tell him.

#hi hi here's a new blurb :)#hope you all like!! <3 #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concept #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron drabble #written by edith! 🪄

635 notes · View notes

anantaru · 10 months

Note

Hiya! I just came across your post about what would happen if you said the ‘safe word’ in bed with Alhaitham and ayato.. I was wondering if you’d maybe be able to do it with Kazuha, Xiao and Scaramouche? I’m so curious aha

If you don’t want to I completely understand but I just really like your writing style 🥺

cw. saying the safeword, angsty, fem! reader

a/n. hello loves, quick side note: this is an exception since i had already planned to write them in this scenario as well, please don't send thirsts with more than one character in the future <3 ty and enjoy

— kazuha

kazuha blows his hips into you, hard, precise storms of his thrusts finding your dribbling cunt and in any other typical case, you would've twisted and turned to have him deeper in you, arch your back when he licks his tongue over your neck to wet the skin— specifically to have his cock crowd you this way, until you're seeing nothing but glittering, white stars.

thus far, it didn't develop into the same thing and you begin to wonder why you haven't felt your best tonight. involuntarily you start to sense how you're clenching down on him, wrapping your trembling arms around his chest and hiding your face into his sweat-troubled neck, his pulse throbbing on your cheek.

for some reason, you thought that if you were to calm yourself down, without telling kazuha how you really felt, it would simply go away but again, this time it didn't and nothing was as important as voicing your concerns and discomfort during sex.

he closes your already troubled breathing state when he moves down to sloppily make out with you, ramming the head of his cock into your deepest spots while excitedly running his hand down your core to play with your little clit and stimulate you further as you did something he never thought he'd ever have to encounter nor witness.

you voice, cry and yell out your safe word over and over, right against his cheek when his eyes shot open in disbelief, large and wide, glossed in unwavering worry. every little sound of you felt like it’s multiplying by a tenfold, and you can’t stop.

kazuha pulls out immediately, pacing his eyes over your shaking figure back and forth, watching you again, back and forth, "my love." he says quietly, loosing the beat of his heart when he witnessed your tears spinning out of control. to be sure he was doing what was necessary, he decided to pull away the blanket which was clumsily thrown over you both in order to make it easier for you to breathe, not leaving your space, but he didn't lay a finger on you, the last he would want now was to cross any more boundaries and it eats him up inside, quietly crying.

"do—" his heart sinks, and so does his voice, "do you need water? are you thirsty? please.." absentmindedly, you run your fingers over his upper arm, but the panic in you, for whatever reason it had emerged, is all-consuming and couldn't be shaken off.

your stomach was in knots and you can barely catch yourself, but you also didn't want kazuha to leave you, voicing him clearly, although with a silent tone, that he should please stay. he directly nods in agreement, placing his palm on top of your agitating hand, telling you to take your time and that it was okay, in fact, you had nothing to worry about, he won't leave.

— xiao

xiao's rough touch and mundane scent was everywhere around you, perceivable and invading your nostrils. you loved it whenever he was a little rough with you, almost feral, pleasing your body until you're shaking from aftershocks of his skilled thrusts.

that time, he twists his fingers around your nipples, just a bit but he did it repeatedly, like you would if you were turning a particularly sensitive knob— and your mounds of flesh were beginning to burn, while his groans were getting louder, showing sweet euphoric need, through with a loud, fast smack of his hips repeatedly finding your soiled cunt.

in combination with him stimulating you on many parts at once, you suddenly began to feel tense and sore, experience an abnormality like you can’t focus on anything, not on him, especially not on the pleasure that of course, was feeling amazing and well but it also didn't.

your heart was racing greatly and you started to sweat profoundly, cold, washed over sweat untangling over your spine and forehead. subtle hints, such as tapping his shoulder were getting you nowhere, and it only made your situation worse as time passed.

"xiao!" you cry out in an instant, not knowing what to do as his blows got even faster, pistoling into your tight pussy, thinking you're enjoying it as much as he did. "xiao, please stop!" and you squeal your safe word and panic one last time before he immediately stills himself, as if you turned off a switch in his brain, making him reach down to push you away.

his gaze hovers around your face, and that's when he saw it, crystal clear, your scrunched together expression that was signaling no sorts of pleasure and he couldn't settle on looking at you for too long, it was beginning to eat him from the very within and his chest was heavy, filled with stones that kept him chained to the ground, so he gets up to sit next to your quivering body.

xiao was speechless, did he really just inflict clear, hurting pain on the person he loved the utmost, more than himself for that matter.

his once, with pleasure glowing eyes, take on a haunted look, open wide in helpless circles, not knowing what to do. if he were the same person before he met you, he would've left and punished himself for what he did but he knew, he just knew that it would make this situation even worse. so he decided to stay, although he didn't say much at first, he did everything in his power to help you, when you so desired any help of him.

it's when he speaks for the first time, "i'm—" and gulps down, eyes burgeoning with tears yet they do not slip, "i am so sorry." his neck grew corded with tension, jaw evertight as he bites down on his cheeks, "so sorry, so sorry.."

"please don't leave me." he continues, xiao makes the tiniest noise in his voice, a worried hitch in his breathing, and for a moment you think he might be leaving you instead, starting to think again that he wasn't enough and that you do deserve better than him. but he settles back down, he doesn't leave and you would lie if you say it didn't surprise you.

you brush away the spilled, dried tears on your cheeks, "i could never leave you." and take his hand to kiss his knuckles, "it's okay."

— scaramouche

scaramouche had immense power, you knew of that and how strong and rough he could get. he easily hauls you off his throbbing cock to abruptly push you into the mattress, hovering on top of you now so he could look and read your sinful expressions, gather and indulge in them while you relish in him fucking you with his fully erected cock.

your bottom lip quivers, and tears had since long been rimming around the sides of your eyes and in any other cases it would be an implication that he was doing a good job, "fuck— fuck, that feels so good." he groans out, ramming his hips into your split hole and groaning out when you clench around his girth.

truth is, he was way too fast and needy with you tonight, making it not possible for you to catch a single breather as he uses your cunt as he pleases, taking you in and out and hoisting you back and forth his leaking member. by this time, you could barely look at him with a clear vision, tears parting from your lashes at last when you cry out in gulps and chokes— the stretch on your cunt aching and forming into anything else than pleasure.

while your first moans were fallen on deaf ears, those in particular that slipped past the tip of your tongue now, made his skin shiver.

"wait— no, no." he quickly pulls you off when you began to uncontrollably sob under him, really not knowing what had caused all of this. he was quick to brush away the tears on your face, "i'm— I'm sorry, please don't cry." his touch for now, had been completely different than just moments ago, now it's warm and soft again, understanding and full of sorrow.

he swallows dryly, unable to wet his parched throat, he hated himself very much right now, his muscles stiffened when you decide to look at him. "i'm sorry." you suddenly state, "this is so embarrassing." confusing him even more and archons knew why you were apologizing in the first place, because you absolutely shouldn't.

"don't." he pushes a warm blanket over your cold, shaking body, "don't apologize." he adds on, "you're not at fault, you hear me."

his eyes soften when you nod, searching for his touch, eyes blood shot but you really needed him to hug you right now as he pulled slow circles on your hips, opening his arms for you so you could easily rest your head on his chest. "i was too rough with you tonight, right?"

"i mean—" he quickly retracts his statement, panicking and smacking himself in his imagination, "that's not important, take your time, don't speak and take your time."

"wait, but you can speak.. if you want."

you answer back with a breathless laugh, placing him in an even more confused state but you would lie to yourself if you'd say he wasn't adorable in his stuttering and his desperate attempts to make you feel comforted. "can we lay like this for the night?"

"of course." he affirms you immediately, "you don't have to ask." silently grazing his hand from your hips to place it on your dampened cheek to cradle your face, sweetly kissing your forehead and smiling.

"everything you want."

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #kazuha x reader #scaramouche x reader #xiao x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #xiao smut #kazuha smut #scaramouche smut #wanderer x reader #wanderer smut #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

3K notes · View notes

aroaceleovaldez · 4 months

Text

okay last one for the night but. honestly i really hate how the franchise has been using loyalty to Rick as a shield for so long. If Rick was involved in a project or not doesn't matter, especially not anymore.

ReadRiordan and the publishing for the franchise has been using this tactic for ages - they obscure if any writing related to the series wasn't written by Rick unless it's special circumstances. It's near impossible to find out who the ghostwriters are (Stephanie True Peters and Mary-Jane Knight). TSATS was promoted as the first time we got a non-Riordan (Rick or Haley) author working on one of the companion novels despite having seven already existing ghostwritten books in the series. The only reason Mark Oshiro was emphasized so heavily for TSATS was because they also work as a sensitivity reader for topics such as queer identity, and Rick had received backlash in the past for being a Straight Cis Old White Guy repeatedly falling into bad habits (that he hasn't broken out of) with certain characterizations that he kept doubling-down on or retconning into oblivion. The show emphasizes that Rick was involved, but the LA Times article brings into question exactly how much he was involved, and it doesn't even really matter either way. The ReadRiordan site actively avoids putting any writing credits on their articles (or art credits...) or anywhere on their site.

Practically the entire fandom unanimously agrees the musical - which had zero involvement from Rick - is the best adaptation of the series so far, including the TV show. Some of the best writing to come out of the series recently was the stuff ghostwritten by Stephanie True Peters (Camp Half-Blood Confidential, Camp Jupiter Classified, Nine from the Nine Worlds, etc). And yet when promotional stuff is posted about CHB:C, there's clearly coded language used to hide the fact that Rick himself didn't write it. Yes, that's how ghostwriters work, but at this point we should really stop pretending "Rick Riordan" isn't just a pen name for a group of authors like "Erin Hunter" and that Rick is actually writing everything in the series. I can easily look up and see which Animorphs books were ghostwritten, and who those authors were. I can find every "Erin Hunter" easily listed on official sites. And yet most people don't even know the Riordanverse franchise has ghostwriters at all.

And the franchise is still trying to use the "Tio/Uncle Rick" stuff. Author loyalty and marketing parasocial relationships isn't going to save the franchise when the author himself can't hold up his own original themes or even keep basic series bible details straight, and especially not if the editors are barely if at all doing their job. And please at least get a goddamn series bible by this point.

#pjo #riordanverse #rick riordan #readriordan #pjo tv crit #rr crit #< this isnt just rr crit im coming for the whole brand #readriordan site also cant center their webpage footer properly. thats just kind of sad #@readriordan staff make sure your </center> code has the closing angle bracket in the right spot. check for spaces.#mary-jane knight #stephanie true peters #< more self organization tags cause i like talking about the ghostwriters. unsung heroes #long post //

1K notes · View notes

brighteyedbushybrowed · 2 years

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 (Perv!Eddie x Perv!Reader) Eddie is such a perv, constantly wanting to fuck you and do things to you that friends definitely didn’t do. Who knew that a storm was all it would take to change that?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 Absolute filth (18+ only, MINORS DNI or I will fuck your dad into oblivion), pillow fucking, humping but no penetration, dirty talk, unprotected sexual activity (use protection please!!), squirting, mommy kink, voyeurism kink if you squint, Eddie and reader being pervs.

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 I have no excuse or explanation other than I am a stupidly horny fella and couldn’t stop thinking about this for a while. Perv!Eddie can do whatever he wants to me at this point, I don’t care. Might write more of perv!Eddie if enough people like this and I don’t get shadowbanned. I should really post my stuff on AO3 just to be safe lmao.

If asked about it, Eddie would say that he definitely wasn’t a pervert thank you very much. That he’d never once thought about you as anything more than a friend.

However, that was as far from the truth as he could get.

It had started six months into your friendship. Up until that point, his dirty thoughts and filthy fantasies had never been related to you. The adult films and magazines he kept hidden under his bed had been inspiration for his perverted thoughts, the men and women in them his sole focus as he thought about every single thing he wanted them to do to him and vice versa, fisting his cock desperately to the over exaggerated sounds the actors in the videos made.

But then the focal point of these thoughts and fantasies and even his wet dreams changed when he accidentally walked in on you getting changed into some clean clothes. He hadn’t seen much, just the curve of your ass in your white cotton panties and a sliver of boob as you’d pulled on one of his shirts over your bare chest. He was out of the room just as quickly as he’d stepped in, embarrassed about walking in on you like that, but the image of your barely clothed body was tattooed permanently onto his brain.

From that point on, his fantasies had morphed so that you were all he was thinking about. His cock sliding leisurely in and out of you beneath your panties until he came on the fabric and made you continue to wear them so that his seed was pressed against your skin and cunt. You riding him on the teacher’s desk inside a locked classroom, your moans and cries loud and needy and alerting everyone outside to what you were doing and who was eliciting those sounds from you. Sliding his rock hard dick between your tits, your tongue flicking out against the tip before he came all over your chest and face. Pushing your head down into a pillow and making you cry from overstimulation as he thrusted in and out of you at a punishing pace, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room as his headboard banged against the wall.

Eddie had often excused himself when you hung out with him, desperate to find the nearest bathroom or rest room so that he could quickly rub one out, but it was never enough. The thoughts still remained, and he had to do it at least twice to satiate him until he was able to take care of himself properly in the privacy of his room when nobody else was around.

And then there were the times when he was at your house. He’d lost count of the number of times since that day that he’d stolen a pair of your panties and taken it home with him to wrap around his aching cock and fuck into a pillow while picturing it was your wet heat that he was burying himself into. He always made sure to wash them after he used them and snuck them back into your panty drawer whenever he was next in your bedroom. He thought he was being very discreet about it; you’d never confronted him about it after all. However, stealing panties just wasn’t enough for him after a couple of months. He wanted to touch you – to fuck you – so bad and no pair of panties in the world would ever feel as amazing as he knew your pussy would.

Then the storm hit.

You’d been hanging out with him for the day now that he’d finally graduated, watching movies with Wayne and eating takeout to celebrate. About an hour after Eddie’s uncle had gone to work, the rain had started falling a lot harder and faster until there were reports of flooding throughout Hawkins all over the news. There was no way you were going to get home until the storm stopped and flooding subsided, so Eddie insisted that you stay the night and sleep in his bed while he took the sofa. It had taken a lot of arguing and a game of rock paper scissors to convince you to take his bed, but now you were sound asleep in his room wearing nothing but one of Eddie’s Hellfire shirts and a pair of his boxers. The fact you were asleep and not doing anything that could be interpreted as even remotely sexual didn’t stop him from getting hard as he lay under a thin blanket on the sofa. He was picturing the way your chest was rising and falling as you rested, your nipples hard and showing through his shirt with an arm tossed back over your face while your other rested on your stomach with your legs slightly parted. And you were wearing his clothes, which made him even more hard. He couldn’t help but palm his crotch over his pyjama pants, the friction good but not enough. It was never enough.

Knowing he could get into a lot of trouble and probably permanently ruin his friendship with you, he threw the blanket aside and crept into his bedroom to grab one of his pillows. His eyes raked over your unconscious form as he did so, biting his lip at the thought of waking you up so he could fuck you into the mattress until you were screaming his name. If he didn’t leave now, he’d never stop thinking about it and that would lead to him feeling far too tempted to go through with it for his liking.

As he turned to make his way back to the living room, his bare foot got caught in some fabric and he bent down to move it, freezing when he saw the familiar white cotton of your panties. The same panties you’d worn when he’d walked in on you changing clothes. He knew he shouldn’t, but he picked them up and held the crotch up to his nose, inhaling the scent and having to bite back a moan at the smell while his eyes rolled into the back of his head. He was addicted to it, the scent never failing to make his cock even harder. He made sure you were still asleep then licked at the crotch of your panties, whimpering softly at the faint taste you’d left behind. It was at that point he realised that there was no turning back now. Even if he wanted to, he was never going to be able to think of anyone other than you when he touched himself. You were going to haunt him until the day he died.

Eddie quickly bent down again to pick up your discarded t-shirt and took both items and the pillow back to the living room with him. Wayne had called earlier to say he wouldn’t be back until noon the next day because of the flooding, meaning he had the living room to himself to do whatever he needed to in order to get his release. He listened out to make sure you were still sound asleep as he pulled your t-shirt over the pillow, his mouth dry. He could say that he couldn’t believe what he was about to do, but that was a lie. This was exactly the sort of thing a dirty pervert like him would do.

And he fucking loved every minute.

Pulling down his pyjama pants to his knees, he hissed when the air hit his leaking dick. The head was an angry red with a bead of pearlescent precum dripping out of it. He pulled up the sides of the pillow as he rested his cock on it, biting his lip as he began to rock his hips a little. The perfect friction against his sensitive cock made him toss his head back, gripping both sides of the pillow with one hand so that it encompassed him. It was nowhere near what he imagined your walls squeezing and milking him would feel like, but it was as close as he was going to get.

“Fuck, mm, yeah, you like that?” he murmured as he slid his cock in and out of the makeshift pussy he’d tried to create, thinking about you with your legs wrapped around his waist and your feet pushing against his ass to drive him deeper inside you. He brought your used panties up to his nose with his free hand and inhaled deeply. His moan was high pitched as he picked up his pace, already desperate to cum all over his pillow. He wondered if he came hard enough whether it would get on your t-shirt too. The image of you finding the clothing he’d soiled and putting it on, gathering some of his cum on your finger and sucking it into your mouth with a groan, made his hips stutter as he began to fuck the makeshift pillow pussy harder. He licked the crotch of your panties again, desperate to have your taste on his tongue as he got himself off.

“Somebody’s being a dirty boy, aren’t they?”

Your voice had him panicking, immediately stopping his movements as he tossed your panties away from his blushing face. He knew that being caught in the act was supposed to make him feel embarrassed and ashamed, but the thought of you seeing him fuck himself on a pillow clad in your shirt while he breathed in your panties made him want to keep going and show you just what a fucking mess you made him.

He watched as you moved closer to the sofa he was kneeling on, your hands making him drop the sides of the pillow. He almost came there and then when you bit your lip and moaned, his cock twitching as you gazed down at it. A shiver ran through his body when you teasingly trailed a finger from the base to the tip, dipping it into the slit to collect some of his precum. You stared into his eyes as you licked the digit agonisingly slowly.

“What’s wrong, Eds? Aren’t you gonna fuck that pillow for me? Or would you prefer something a little different?” you asked.

He shuddered and groaned quietly. “I didn’t –”

“Didn’t what?” you cooed, slowly pulling his boxers off your body and kicking them aside. “Didn’t think I’d catch you? Didn’t think I knew what you did with my panties every time you came over to my house? Didn’t think I’ve heard you getting off in the bathroom thinking about me?”

Whimpering, Eddie nodded his head and watched as you moved your hand to between your legs and pulled it back to show him your wet, sticky arousal all over your fingers. He obediently opened his mouth when your prodded them against his lips, sucking them and licking them as he fisted the pillow beneath him. He loved the way you’d tasted in your panties, but this? This was far better than he ever could have imagined.

“I’ve been waiting for months now for you to just take me,” you told him. “Wanted you to just grab me and fuck me until I’m cock-drunk and can’t think of anything other than how good you make me feel. Been touching myself every single night thinking about you. Had to buy a dildo and hide it in my closet so I could fuck myself on it thinking about you and that dick of yours, but it’s never enough. I’m constantly craving the real thing and I’m tired of waiting for you to bend me over and fuck me against the kitchen counter.”

He mewled and started to rock his hips against the pillow once more as you spoke. Never in a million years did he think that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you, nor that you were just as perverted as he was.

“Please,” he begged, your fingers dropping from his mouth. “Please touch me. Want you to make me cum so bad. Need you.”

You smirked as you took his chin between your thumb and forefinger. “Seeing as you asked so nicely…”

He could’ve climaxed there and then when you moved to straddle the pillow he was fucking, the lips of your cunt on top of his cock. You both sighed out a moan as he slid between your folds and the pillow slowly, your slick coating him. Eddie glanced down at where your bodies met and watched him move in and out of your slit. His focus was quickly torn away from the sight when your grabbed his hair and yanked it so that he was looking at the lust-filled expression on your face.

“Look at me when I’m helping you to cum. I could’ve just left you like this and made you watch me get off, rubbing my clit at the sight of you so desperate you’d fuck a pillow just to get some relief,” you demanded, making him release a choked out gasp.

“I’m sorry, mommy. You’re such a good mommy, letting me cum like this,” he replied, almost sobbing.

As you smashed your lips into his, tongues meeting as you pulled his head in the direction you wanted it to go, he began to roll his hips a little faster. His fingers flicked against your clothed nipples as he leaked more precum onto the pillow and he relished the way your hips bucked against him. He allowed one of his hands to stop playing with your nipples and started to rub your clit in hurried circles.

“Good boy.” You praised him while you pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva remaining between your mouths. “You gonna make me cum, baby? Gonna make me soak your cock and pillow while you desperately fuck the pillow? Such a dirty boy.”

His hand that had been pinching your nipple moved to grab your waist as his movements became sloppy, his climax quickly approaching at the combination of your pussy on top of his dick, the friction of the pillow beneath you both, and your sinful words. You grabbed the hand that was touching your clit and guided his movements, moaning as he touched you exactly how you liked it. You were jerking into his touch and gliding back and forth over his hard cock as he started to whine and whimper. The moment he felt you clench on top of him as you cried out, squirting over his cock and hand, he threw his head back and groaned while he came. His hips continued to jolt forward as you kept grinding down on him until he finished cumming. Both of you panted and clung to one another as you slowly came down from your highs.

When you were ready, you climbed off the pillow and admired the mess the two of you had made. Your shirt was covered in your cum and his and the bottom of Eddie’s tank top was soaked, his cock glistening as he shakily stood up and pulled his pyjama pants back up. Your lips descended upon his before he could say anything, your hands cupping his face while he rested his on your hips.

“Mm,” you murmured as you backed away from his lips. “You were such a good boy for me, Eddie. Next time don’t make me wait six months. If you want to touch me, kiss me, fuck me, whatever, do it.”

He searched your face for any hint of teasing or joking. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

You laughed. “And say what? Oh Eddie, I want you balls deep inside of me while I bounce on your cock in the back of your van where anyone could catch us by looking through the windows?”

He groaned and felt his cock twitch in his pants. “Please tell me we get to keep fucking like this. I don’t think I can go back and pretend this never happened.”

“Sure. But on one condition.”

He nodded frantically. “Anything.”

You felt him shiver as you ran a finger down his chest. “Take me on a date next Friday. Pick me up at 8:30pm and take me out for a burger and milkshake. Then you can take me home and fuck me silly while you tell me all the dirty little things you wanna do to me. How’s that sound?”

He grinned excitedly and lightly pressed his lips against yours. “Yes, mommy.”

#spicy content #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson x perv!reader #eddie munson smut #smut #fanfic #mine #my fanfic

12K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

hi! i hope you're having a good day<3 i was wondering if you could write a remus x fem!reader where they aren't really dating but everyone knows they like each other (them included) where r has kinda mean friends? like, they leave her out of everything and she constantly feels bad about it. and ever time she tells remus he's like "you should drop them, you deserve better" and he's just trying to get her to see that she deserves better?

Thank you <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 736 words

Remus can feel a heaviness building where you sit on the couch next to him.

He lets his eyes slide subtly in your direction, and you’re frowning at your phone. Not an upset frown, no pursed lips or drawn brows, just a slight downturn of the corners of your mouth. You look defeated, and Remus can’t abide it.

“Everything alright, love?”

Predictably, you soften like butter at the endearment, and your expression as you turn to him is kind if not happy. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, and Remus pretends not to know it’s a lie. He waits. Your eyes drop to his shoulder, one thumbnail picking at the other distractedly. “I just wish…I wish that if my friends were going to hang out without me, they’d at least not post so much about it.”

A familiar ache starts up in his chest. “Oh no. What’ve they done?”

You shrug like it’s little to you, but he sees the way you press your lips together, the faint redness creeping up from your neck. He hopes you don’t cry, if only to spare his delicate heart.

“They’re all at Hannah’s place, I guess. Going to go see the new movie premiere.” You laugh. It sounds raw. “I actually asked them if they wanted to go do that tonight, and they all said they were busy.”

The frailty of your voice works like glass shards, cleaving Remus clean open. “Darling,” he says, and he doesn’t care that you’re not official enough to acknowledge the endearment in its full capacity. You both know he means it well enough. His hand slides atop yours the way one tempers one ingredient by adding a tiny bit of another before the rest. You soften at his touch, and Remus goes all the way, curling his arms under yours to give your back a firm squeeze. “I know you’re sick of hearing it from me, but they really don’t deserve you.”

A tiny drop of warm wetness slides from your face to his shirt. His own fault, really, but if a good cry is what you need he’s ready to indulge you. “I just want to know what it is about me that makes me so terrible to be around,” you weep, and Remus crushes you to his front unthinkingly, a protective ire swelling within him. He wishes he could go to your friend’s house and give these girls a talking-to right now, but you probably wouldn’t thank him for it. He settles for dragging his palm up and down your back, hip to shoulder and back again.

“Don’t say that,” he pleads with you.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your sigh is a stilted, shuddering thing. “I’m putting you in an awful position. I don’t mean to fish for compliments.”

“I know,” he promises, his hand stopping where Remus can feel your heart beating through the material of your shirt. “And I’m not saying it out of any sense of obligation, but you really are lovely to be around. I mean” —he pulls back so you can see his face, hoping the sincerity in it will make some headway against your self-doubt— “would I be here if you weren’t?”

You give him a small smile, thin-lipped. “You’re very nice.”

Remus laughs, wrapping his fingers around your upper arms and barely restraining himself from trying to shake some sense into you. “I’m not that nice. But okay, Sirius would never hang around anyone he didn’t actually like, can we agree there?” He takes your silence for acquiescence, and, with a gentle smile, goes on. “Every one of our friends sees how kind, and smart, and lovely you are. They” —he shoots a pointed look at your phone— “are the only ones who don’t. That’s how I know you’re not the problem, sweetheart,” he says, softer now. “They are.”

You look him in the eyes as you take a deep breath. This one goes in and out steadier than the last, and some of the tension in his own chest eases. “Thank you,” you tell him.

Remus can’t help himself; he pulls you in for another hug, selfish to his core. “No thanks necessary,” he says firmly.

“I guess the only thing to do,” you say, voice muffled against his shoulder, “is to stop trying to make plans with them and hang out exclusively with you.”

Remus laughs. He doesn’t hate the sound of that.

489 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 4 months

Text

Cruel, Wicked Thing | Eris x Reader

summary: you are betrothed to Sawyer Vanserra yet that doesn't stop the eldest Vanserra from wanting you.

warnings: I can't really think of anything? this isn't really fluff or angst, just eris longing. slow burn maybe?

a/n: this can be read as a stand alone imagine but it's a part two to this. I intended the second part to be something else but then I ended up writing this scene and it didn't really fit the vibes I was going with so I decided to just post it separately.

As Eris steps out into the courtyard gardens, his gaze is immediately drawn to you. You’re seated upon one of the stone benches that faces the grand water fountain, the one where he first met you. His steps slow, compelled to take in the sight of you. The sun’s light filters through the clouds, caressing your features with a golden glow as you delicately turn the pages of a book. A gentle breeze rustles through the Autumn trees, creating a ballet of falling leaves and causing loose strands of your hair to dance in the air. As the wind carries the sweet scent of rose and honey to him, Eris inhales deeply.

Among the fluttering leaves, a single one lands atop your head, a delicate crown bestowed by nature itself. Yet, you remain unaware. You’re completely lost to the realm of literature in your lap. The same way Eris is lost in you.

He wonders if he should turn and walk the other way. Much like he has done in the weeks that you’ve moved into the Forest house. He doesn’t want to avoid you but the magnetic pull you exert is thrilling yet fear-inducing. So he's resorted to studying you from afar. He knows you enjoy walking around the gardens, reading and hanging around the stables. He knows you well enough to know you don't belong in a cruel court such as this one.

Yet, the Cauldron has unequivocally marked you as someone special to him and he finds himself wary of the potential depth of affection you might set ablaze within his guarded heart. It’s laughable, how someone as sweet and pure as you is so dangerous to him.

You are engaged to his younger brother, Sawyer. And Eris? He’s engaged in the delicate balance of playing the role of the perfect son—perfect heir—all while conspiring against his own father. He cannot afford to harbor any weakness nor does he want to drag you into the depths of his hell.

But as he looks around the gardens, he confirms there’s no one else around. He then decides to indulge himself, even if only for a little bit.

As he walks toward you, he deliberately steps on the fallen leaves, allowing them to crunch under his boot. The intentional sound announces his approach and has you looking up. Your eyes widen in surprise as you sit up straight.

“Lord Eris.”

The corner of his lips quirk up and he greets you with the same formality. “Lady y/n.”

His fingers reach out to delicately pluck an orange leaf from the crown of your head. The touch lingers longer than necessary, and “accidentally,” his hand brushes against the softness of your cheek as he lowers it. The lingering contact leaves you slightly flustered, a soft blush creeping up on your face—a reaction he takes delight in.

“I’m surprised you haven’t run away,” he remarks.

Eris knows the past three weeks have been rough for you. He’s not only seen it as you chased Sawyer, your unfortunate husband to be, like a lost puppy but he’s also felt it. On occasion, he sends one of his hounds, Clover, to cheer you up. Even the vicious little creature has fallen victim to you, revealing a softer side in your presence. One she normally only shows Eris.

Your father, a busy and highly esteemed merchant, departed as soon as he signed your marriage contract, leaving you to navigate the Autumn Court alone. Sawyer barely gives you the time of day. It’s a double edged sword because though Sawyer is content with neglecting you, he is the lesser evil of his three remaining brothers.

Sawyer’s disinterest for you, however, often leaves you vulnerable to his two other brothers, Hunter and Oliver. Hunter, who much like his name, always has a thirst and desire to give chase to anything that isn’t his and Oliver–well, Oliver lusts after anything with two legs. The thought of them touching you–hurting you–sends a fire to course through his veins. It reaches his hand, small flames emerging from his fingertips and the leaf in his hand succumbs to ashes. He brushes them off, feigning nonchalance, grateful that you're unfazed.

With a deft motion, you dog-ear the page you were on before closing your book and gracefully rising to your feet. Upon realizing his attention drifting to the book in your hands, you swiftly hide it behind your back.

“Why would I run away? Maybe, I’m right where I want to be.”

As his gaze lifts to meet yours, a flicker of surprise and curiosity dances in his amber eyes. Bold words. Unlike you. Despite your hands held behind your back, the subtle nervous twitch of your arm muscles is not lost on him.

“But you’re unhappy,” Eris says and he almost expects the emotions churning within you to come to surface. For you to agree. For you to complain. He leans in closer to you, willing to listen.

You do none of that, though. Instead, you force a smile onto your face. One that fails to reach your eyes. "I'm very happy.”

“Well, you’re very convincing.”

“And you’re very nosey.”

Eris lets out an exhale through his nose and you shrink back, worried you have offended him. The small smirk that lifts the corner of his lips soothes your concern. “I kind of have to be, angel. This is my court and I am to rule over it someday. It is my duty to be aware of everything that goes on.”

“Perhaps, I should start with finding out what had you so captivated earlier.” Eris adds, eyeing the book you continue to conceal behind your back.

You take a step back, fingers tightening against your book but it’s useless. In a heartbeat, the book disappears from your grasp and reappears in Eris’s thanks to his magic. He holds it up in a taunting manner and you’re running after him.

“Eris!”

A spark ignites in his amber eyes as he recognizes the title, and a chuckle escapes him at your adorable yet desperate attempt to reach for the book. He holds it higher, taking full advantage of his height.

“You shock me, angel. I didn't pin you to be the type to read–”

“Please give it back.”

Eris pauses for a moment in deep contemplation. You are asking so nicely–begging, more like it. But he finds that he likes the way you’re madly blushing at him too much. He shakes the urge to give into your puppy dog eyes. “I don’t think so…shall I start reading where you left off, hmm?”

Panic flashes in your wide eyes as you desperately lunge forward to retrieve your book. However, Eris's quick reflexes had him turning away, causing you to trip over the pavestone. With Eris's body no longer there to block your path, you found yourself tumbling into the water fountain with a loud splash.

The water is cold and has you gasping, goosebumps rising on your skin. You lift your gaze and though you glare at him, he finds it adorable. Absolutely endearing. He tilts his head back in laughter and the sound softens your gaze.

Eris is still laughing when you hold out your hand to him expectantly. “What?”

Your eyebrows knit together in disbelief. “Aren’t you going to be a gentleman and offer me your hand?”

Unspoken desires stir within him as he gazes at your outstretched hand. In his eyes, there's a subtle ache, a silent wish to offer you more than just his hand. The wave of your hand has him breaking from his thoughts. This time, he takes it. He fails to notice the gleam in your eyes as he does. He doesn’t realize his mistake until it’s already too late–until he’s falling into the fountain and on top of you. Quick reflexes save your book from the water, while one hand is planted at your side to avoid the full weight of his fall.

“Not so funny now, is it?” Your laughter dies in your throat and your voice embarrassingly losing its vigor as you both find yourselves unexpectedly close in the watery aftermath.

Wide amber eyes, bathed in the warm glow of honeyed hues, lock onto yours. His chest is pressed against you and his nose is so close to yours, they’re almost brushing. All you can hear is the soothing sound of running water and his soft breath. You can feel the warmth of it too and the way his chest rises and falls with every breath.

“You cruel, wicked thing,” he murmurs, voice dripping in velvet, capturing the not so subtle shift in your gaze from his eyes to his lips.

He does the same, also well aware of how close he is to you. Gods, you’re dangerously close to him and as your eyes flutter shut, anticipation charges the air. A mere inch closer, and he could savor the allure of your lips—your pretty but devilish lips. The mere notion sets his heart aflutter. The golden string, binding you both together, seems to tug at him insistently, reeling him in.

Closer, the bond in his chest sings. Closer–

A series of distinct and deliberate chimes has both of you abruptly turning your heads towards the grand clock that oversees the gardens. Eris suppresses a sigh. He has to go but doesn’t want to leave. Reluctantly, he pulls away and rises to his feet, stepping out of the fountain. He then offers you his hand, helping you up. When your shoes slip along the fountain’s tiles, he chuckles and helps steady you by bringing you close to his chest.

“Thanks,” escapes you in a breathless whisper, the frenzy of your mind leaving no room for any other words.

Once you’re back on steady feet, he distances himself from you, careful not to betray the protest of his heart. While you wrap your arms around your cold, trembling form, your gaze lowers to the book he safeguarded through the entire ordeal. Eris summons every ounce of strength to resist the urge to rush towards you and warm you with his kiss. He has to leave now.

“I’ll return your book to you,” Eris promises, smirking at the small sigh of relief you let out and mischievously adds: “Once I’m done with it.”

Then, Eris leaves before you can say a single word. Before you can unravel his resolve further. You’re dangerous, he reminds himself. A cruel wicked thing that beckons a wayward soul like his to crave entry into heaven. Not just any heaven, but yours.

a/n: what type of book do we think the lovely reader was reading? lol I do have 2 more parts planned for this little au and maybe more 👀 depending on how the other 2 parts go (they're both inspired by songs and i'm literally just going with the vibes now since I'm really indecisive on how I want to go with this au. I have so many ideas.)

#eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #eris angel au

348 notes · View notes

mimsynims · 8 months

Text

Fool For Love

part 1

~~~

Author’s Note: I have barely been writing anything (I usually write for the Good Omens fandom) since I started playing BG3, but then a few days ago I felt compelled to start on *something* for this fandom that has completely taken over my mind. I usually post on AO3 but for some reason I wanted to post a first teaser-chapter here on Tumblr.

So here it is, my first (unbeta’d) venture into the BG3 fandom. I have no idea where this is going except that the endgame is a happy ending for Tav and Astarion.

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (Mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking

Summary: You thought knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… Now you do.

~~~

You watch him laugh as Shadowheart leans closer to whisper something in his ear, and the unwarranted jealousy that has your chest aching leaves a sour taste in your mouth. He may be sharing your bed now and then, but you have no right to him. For all you know, he might be spending his other nights with each and everyone in your camp. And that is his prerogative; pretty words aside, Astarion has never promised you anything other than fantastic sex.

A bitter smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You are sure he thinks he has you wrapped around his finger. That he has convinced you that this means more to him than it actually does. The sigh leaves your lips before you can stop it, but it doesn’t really matter, because none of the others hear you, too busy listening to Gale regaling another story about his ex.

Annoyed with yourself you rise, an excuse prepared on your tongue in case anyone questions your departure from the merriment. The lie remains unspoken and you’re relieved when you can slink into the shadows unnoticed. Relieved, but also perhaps a bit sad. It’s funny, you’ve spent most of your life aiming for anonymity, to stay under the radar. The unexpected friendships you’ve made since the kidnapping has unravelled all of that. Have made you aware of the dark and empty space in your heart you’ve successfully ignored until now.

Except it isn’t empty anymore.

It happened gradually, and without your permission. A dashing pale rogue stealing your affection when you weren’t looking. Because yes, while you know that his only reason for talking his way into your bed was manipulation, he has unintentionally shown you glints of his real self during your time together. He’s a complicated mess, just like yourself, and you love him. Love everything about him, even though it hurts.

So maybe he has you wrapped around his finger after all, because if you had any sense, you would end this thing between you. You should, but you are a selfish being. One day Astarion will realise that he doesn’t need to use sex to feel safe with you, but until that day comes, you will greedily accept every scrap of attention he gives you.

“Pathetic.”

“Talking to yourself, darling? Or have you made another furry friend when I wasn’t looking?” Astarion gracefully — why is that even when he’s pleasantly drunk, the elf manages to appear graceful? — sits down next to you in the grass. “You already have three of them in the camp, surely that’s enough?”

“Three?” You try to gather your thoughts, but it’s difficult when he is this close to you. “Scratch, the owlbear cub, and…?”

“Halsin, of course.”

“Of course,” you repeat dumbly. True, the druid was in his bear form when you first met, but something in Astarion’s demeanour makes you suspect that that isn’t what he meant. Images of Astarion undressing Halsin floods your mind. Halsin is a handsome and powerful man, so it would make sense for Astarion to seduce him too. Just like he had with you.

“Why are we sitting here, by the way?” Astarion shifts to lean on one hand, his face tilted back to take in the full moon. “Wanted a more romantic setting than your tent this time, darling?”

Oh. So you are the chosen one for the night. You were certain it would be Shadowheart, considering.

“Are you alright, Tav?”

For a moment you let yourself believe that the hesitation you hear in his voice is founded on genuine concern. That he truly cares beyond the deep-seated need for self-preservation ingrained in him. But the illusion can only last so long. You know enough of his history not to hold his actions against him, but right now you’re not in a headspace to pretend that everything is fine. And yet, you try.

“Of course I am.” You hold back a flinch when you hear the acid lacing your words like a toxin. It gives too much away, so you do the only thing you can think of. Your hands are already grabbing fabric before you have finished your thought, pulling him closer before he has time to examine your statement too closely. Before he can figure out your lie.

The night air is cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the hot mouth claiming yours. You might regret it tomorrow, but right now, this is exactly what you need. In Astarion’s arms, you can forget everything but him and what he gives you. Around other people he can seem petty and cruel, but when he’s with you like this… this is different.

Or least that’s what you tell yourself. You cling to the illusion that this is special, and you succeed — until you feel yourself leaning your head to the side, offering your neck.

Astarion doesn’t ask it of you, he never does. It’s always you that wordlessly gives him what you believe is what he truly wants.

And this time it reminds you that deep down, this is just a transactional act for Astarion. Nothing else. He doesn’t care about you, not really.

After you’re both sated, you drift off to sleep without meaning to. It has been a taxing day, both physically and mentally, and the last thing you see is Astarion looking down at you with an indiscernible expression in his red eyes. Almost as if you’re a puzzle he can’t figure out. Except that doesn’t make any sense, because to you it feels like he saw right through you the first time you met.

Some time later, you’re vaguely aware of strong arms lifting you from the damp grass. You must’ve made some noise, because you feel a warm breath against your ear.

“Hush, my darling, you don’t want the others to wake up.”

Exhaustion drags you back under, and when you next wake up, you’re in your tent. Alone.

~~~

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 fic #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #fic wip #astarion ancunin #help im obsessed #I came for the bear but I stayed for the vampire

524 notes · View notes

the-s1lly-corner · 8 months

Note

hello I hope ur request are open! If not be free to ignore this!! Okay so TADC x y/n? (The amazing digital circus also it can be muti characters or one!! The choice is yours!! ^ ^)

OKAY OKAY SO WHAT IF..🥁🥁🥁 y/n was like Jessica rabbit from "who framed roger rabbit" 👀 and was very like motherly to everyone but when she was called doll,/toots,/ect, by jax or anyone SHE WOULD PUNCH THEM HARDDDD (kinda like the lola bunny fanfic??) Also she is like one inch taller then jax (she a tall women👀❤️)

(HAVE FUN WITH THIS IDEA!! DONT RUSH YOURSELF TO DO IT TAKE UR TIME ON IT!! AND DRINKS LOTS OF WATER AND EAT FOOD!! HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY/NIGHT!!🫶🫶)

Digital Circus x a jessica rabbit-type reader!

since im a little melty brain from blasting through a bunch of requests today im going to do part of the cast! mostly characters i think would be interesting with this kind of reader as well as some characters i just wanna write more of (cough cough kinger cough cough)(i was originally going to do gangle as well but uhuh!!) ...this reminds me ive never watched who framed roger rabbit... or rather i have, but its been so long that ive truly forgotten nearly every aspect of the movie relying on the character wiki talking about her personality to guide me through this

CAINE:

caines and jax's parts are both likely going to be on the shorter side thanks to both of their cores holding similar themes in regards to half of the idea

anyways he's going to call you pet names, especially if he's interested in you.. good luck trying to land anything on him, though, he's going to easily zoom through the air

okay nod to the lola bunny request aside, i think caine would be just head (jaw?) over heels for you, i mean, he would be anyways, but something about your caring and quick witted personality

probably makes literal heart eyes at you and audibly goes "awooga"

absolutely loves watching you do your thing during the in house adventures, on the few times he actually spectates them; though you may or may not be the reason he watches

seems like the kind of person to call you "hot stuff" or "babe"

doesn't really care about the height difference since he rarely ever stands on the ground anyways, plus he doesn't care how small he is

JAX:

to get a good idea of how jax would interact with you, i recommend this similar post! hope this links correctly, im still new to linking stuff in my posts!!

a lot of elements from the post above bleed into this, but lets add some more to it to make it a little more unique to the jessica rabbit idea!

takes it upon himself to try to get some sort of reaction out of you, outside of the name stuff... which proves to be a little harder than he thought.. actually, oddly enough, you seem to enjoy his antics?

well thats certainly new to him...

aaaaaand oh! hey would you look at that you've officially caught his attention, congratulations!

does not take too kindly to being the new second tallest, though... sure you're barely taller than him but its the principle! how can he lord his height over everyone else now!

KINGER:

so here's where i may be biased since i love kinger and i wish more people wrote for him, so his part may be a little longer, we'll see! i write these lil notes as i work on the post

right away i dont think he would call you any of the petnames listed above, or anything similar. i think, should you guys get on a nickname basis he would call you sweeter ones, "my love," "my darling", "my sweetheart", and similar stuff!

does not have lightning reflexes like jax and caine but if the names genuinely do bother you he would likely stop, you'll just have to remind him

imma be so real this man needs someone to stand back and just be there for him because he is going through it, so to have someone in his corner who has his best interests at heart will really do a lot for him

no comment on the height difference since kinger is pretty tall himself (and hes taller than jax! the only reason jax isnt upset about that is because kinger is always hunched), but i dont think he gives a darn about height

i am once again thinking about the in house adventure prompt with kinger that i had earlier, where he gets stuck somewhere and you have to go rescue him... this + that prompt, JUMPS UP N DOWN

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x you #caine x reader #caine imagine #jax x reader #jax imagine #jax x you #kinger x reader #kinger x you #kinger imagine

597 notes · View notes

teeth-cable · 2 months

Text

I need more people to talk about how just like the POC designs, the writing is terrible at clueing the audience what race and ethnicity the characters are.

Beside stereotypes, the racial coding in the writing is little to non-existence. The characters don’t have mannerisms from their cultures, speak in slangs or idioms relating to their group from their time periods, or make cultural references.

Without having to rely on outside sources (Livestreams, looking up VAs, leaked audition sheets, etc), the only characters I would successfully guess would be Vicky, Val, and Velvette, and even then, it doesn’t mean the racial coding is good.

Vicky is the only one from this list whose racial coding isn’t atrocious. I can tell she’s Latino because she curses in Spanish, but that’s it. This is admittedly nick-picky , but I wish when cursing she would have used Salvadoreño specific slang and curse phases to signal she’s Salvadoreña.

Val, I can tell is Latino too, because of his accent and him cursing in Spanish, but it’s egregious. The accent fluctuates so much, it’s strong, then weak, then strong again. Not sure if the VA was struggling or if this was an intentional direction given to him, though the fact, I and other people were confused, at the direction, speaks for itself. Another issue with his accent is how it’s sexualized, contributing to the Latin Lover stereotype of his character.

Velvette, I won’t sugarcoat it. I wouldn’t even guess she was supposed to be black though the writing or the majority of her designs until the finale. The finale, the last episode of the season and the only time she has textured hair with her screen time being around two minutes and sixteen seconds in total.

Visual designs isn’t where race coding ends. This is important to remember because it ignores the good coded characters (King Dice from Cuphead, Darwin from TAWG, the Funk trolls from Dreamwork’s Trolls) and how Viv failed and could have done the racial coding better.

For Viv, she has to rely on other coding methods too because there are characters who aren’t humanoid enough, or even humanoid at all, for visual coding to work. There really isn’t anything I can say to explain why the race coding sucks beside Viv doesn’t care about representing POCs.

I wanted to create this post to highlight how Viv fails at coding in every aspect. The fandoms and critics shouldn’t praised her for giving Velvette textured hair or darkening Sera’s skin from her leaked audition sheet. We need to stop praising creators, especially white ones, for doing less than the bare minimum (The bare minimum being making POC characters look POC) when creating POC characters, or worse, justify it. I’ve seen people tried to justify the terrible POC designs by using one of Carmilla’s daughters as an example, as if one decent POC design in a sea of ashy and euro-centric or erased features for the majority of the POC cast suddenly invalidates the criticisms.

I’m also getting tired of the fandom making posts questioning why people have and still draw the POC characters as white, as well as people harassing artists for accidental whitewashing. I’m hate the whitewashing too but in this case, it’s different because this is Viv’s own fault due to her poor racial coding. Not every fan will have the same intense knowledge you do or even should, to know what a character’s race or ethnicity is, that’s Viv’s responsibilities as the creator.

Mind you, these were the human designs we had before the show aired. Alastor being mixed creole and Niffty being Japanese yet they look white as hell here.

#꧁rambles꧂#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin critical #vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism

250 notes · View notes

90sbee · 5 months

Text

Sometimes a saviour is a soldier afraid of peace

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

4.4k words. Also on ao3.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

He doesn’t deserve her. But again, he doesn’t really deserve anything. He already has gotten too much: spoiled by the sweet possibility of life when all his comrades have fallen, their bodies twisted, mangled by titans and enemies alike.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

The war is over, but the demons still haunt Levi. Luckily for him, the last member of his Squad seems focused on remaining by his side as they both face this new enemy: peace.

This was !!! My first fic written in English, actually. Also my first (and only time so far) writing for aot. Levi is such an angsty angel, and this story wouldn’t leave my head, so I had to end up writing it, ofc. This has been in the drafts for... months. Too many months already. And tbh I'm not a fan of how it came out. But. Posting it in case someone else can enjoy Levi finally getting some love and comfort, sjsjs.

Content: Use of 3rd person pronouns. No use of y/n. Mostly Levi's pov. Reader was part of his Squad. Post!Rumbling Levi. Written with the manga ending in mind. A lot of fluff, rude Levi even if he doesn't mean it (but reader knows he means no harm). Healing. Spooning (Levi as the little spoon btw. He deserves it).

Warnings: depressive thoughts, self confidence issues. Mentions of past violence (but nothing gruesome, it's all in passing). SFW. No beta reader we die like everybody in Aot here.

They always meet. Every single day, she leaves her little flat to find him near the fountain in the Marleyan park, eager to push his wheelchair and pass some time with him.

Levi doesn’t understand. When Onyankopon, or Falco, or Gabi let her take the wheelchair, he just ponders. He could understand why they would accompany him: because he is old? because they feel pity of him?… But her?

Nonetheless, every single afternoon, she comes to him. He doesn’t recall when this custom began. It’s like slowly, but surely, she started digging a place into his routine. She was part of his remaining squad, and he really didn’t see any point to her bubbling-self still being by his side.

Still, he appreciates her visits. She exchanges pleasantries with Gabi, already smiling. Why is she smiling?

“Hi, Captain,” she says. Should he feel mocked? He isn’t a captain anymore and the title feels too much, even if it’s comforting in some way. Levi doesn’t reply. He just nods, silently acknowledging her presence. “Is it okay if we go to the stalls for a while, Captain?” She inquires, as if it was the first time they did it, and not a weekly occurrence. His jaw tenses. He doesn’t understand, still. She surely pities him. She has to.

He agrees to her proposal, though.

“Sure,” he replies, barely any emotion on his face.

She smiles at him. For a moment, they look at each other. She sees that familiar scarred face, a grey eye gazing into her soul. He sees the older face of her remaining squad member, some wrinkles next to her eyes, her figure dressed in green. For some reason, he liked that colour on her.

He doesn’t share that with her, though.

“Let’s get going,” she adds, a little chuckle in her voice — he can hear it — as she starts pushing the wheelchair. They check out the little shops that are already so familiar. Sometimes she signals a piece of jewellery or clothes. She asks for his opinion, or points at a silly artwork, in hopes of making him laugh.

When the cold starts to set in, she stops them in front of a coffee shop.

“Wait here a second, Captain,” she tells him.

“Where would I go, anyway?” He wants to say, snarky, but he doesn’t really bother in opening his mouth. He stays silent still, perking his head up to see what’s she’s doing.

“Oi. coffee?” He complains.

She directs her gaze to him and chuckles, paying the vendor.

“I know you like tea but it’s time to broaden your horizons,” she explains. She comes up to him again, and hands him one of the cups. He sighs, but accepts the drink still.

“What is it this time?”

“Just chocolate. Hot chocolate,” she answers, already sipping hers. She lets out a content sigh when the warmth of it starts to fill her belly.

“I don’t like chocolate,” Levi mutters under his breath. He is lying and she knows it.

“Tsk. That’s not true. Everybody likes chocolate.”

“… Fine,” he sips his drink and, admittedly, enjoys it. She hands him her drink so she can push the wheelchair again, and he takes it, guarding both cups on his lap, a familiar action for the two of them now.

“Where do we go?” She asks.

Levi shrugs. “As if I had a choice.”

She looks at him still, and when he can see her, barely from his peripheral vision, he sees a softer face. She’s waiting for his reply. He looks at her, looks at her lips. She isn’t smiling anymore. Levi sighs, suddenly feeling guilty.

He doesn’t understand still why she does this for him.

“Captain?” She says, just above a whisper, since there are people around them and they both just want to have a calm evening, without the risk of being recognised.

Levi nods before he even opens his mouth.

“The bridge.”

“Good,” she agrees as he sips from his drink again, guided by her. He does feel warmer. Levi inspects the people around him in silence, letting himself be carried, taken to a nicer place. “Hange would have like this,” he thinks. He looks down to suddenly realise he is clenching his fist, hard. “If you could even call it a hand…”

“We’re here, Captain,” she announces, letting his wheelchair rest next to a bench, overlooking the water. She takes a seat next to him, and Levi hands her the drink. He wonders if she noticed how tense he’s been feeling today.

“Be quick with that, brat, or it will get cold,” he warns, as if to pre-emptively shut down any words from her. He’s not sure he could handle it.

She just nods.

“It’s still warm,” she mentions after a moment.

The sunset is taking its place on the sky, a beautiful palette of oranges and pinks against a very flat horizon. A reminder of what was once lost.

“Good,” he says.

Levi looks at her. She is still looking forward, features illuminated by the falling sun, breeze caressing her face. There is something in his heart that aches, but he doesn’t want to think about that. He doesn’t dare to. Levi is old, too old, and too broken. And she only pities him.

He coughs to catch her attention, though.

“Hmh, yeah?” She immediately says.

“I heard the Scouts were going back to Paradis tomorrow,” he begins, the question lingering in the air. The small group was leaving first time in the morning.

“Yep.”

Levi blinks, expecting her to say more, but she doesn’t. He doesn’t want to ask. It feels… too much. He feels too exposed doing that, lower lip trembling.

“Are you going?” He finally dares to ask.

She turns back to him again, and looks at him with the sweetest gaze. Levi doesn’t miss how she looks at his lips first.

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have anything there,” she replies, matter-of-factly. Levi wants to hit his head against something, still uncertain about what that means. Does that mean that she has something here? Someone?

She must notice his doubts, so she lowers her gaze. “I mean. You know I lost my family during my first years as a Scout. And knowing that we tried to stop Eren… All the military forces in the island won’t be very happy to see me. Or any of us. I’ve done my part. I do not want more fighting.”

“… Right”. That still doesn’t answer his question, but it is enough to satisfy his curiosity without seeming to eager. He sips his drink again: it’s getting colder.

“You didn’t want to go, Captain?” There it was again, that fucking title that felt like a joke. He chuckles, not looking at her anymore but rather at the sunset.

“Why do you still call me like that?” He spits back.

“Captain?”

“Yeah,” His tone is unintentionally rude, but he can’t help it, not even around her.

“Well… It’s a sign of respect, don’t you think?”

Levi chuckles, amused.

“I never took you for a polite person.” He doesn’t want to look at her still. She hasn’t added anything, said anything else. What is she thinking of?

She looks at him. There’s a warmth in her belly which has nothing to do with the chocolate anymore. She knows: Her Captain has been way more vulnerable and open since the Rumbling. The little gestures that he could so easily hide before are now an open book. Or at least she feels that way, since she was always one to look at him.

It was so easy to just… stare at him. Admire him in every sense of the word, even now. When they were both soldiers they would fight alongside each other, against innumerable dangers. He was barely visible in the spectrum: always so fast, always so precise. A ray of dark hair and strong limbs, destroying everything to provide peace, to provide protection.

There was no point in denying how she felt about him… Except, maybe, to him.

“I don’t think I would like going back to Paradis,” she finally adds, finishing her drink. He seems to reflect on that idea for a moment, before nodding. He wants to ask why but he doesn’t dare to. “I’m just… comfortable here,” she finishes with a sigh. “This is okay.”

“That’s good,” he says, barely a spark of enthusiasm in his voice, but enough for her to notice.

She looks up at him again. And he feels tiny and scared suddenly, because she looks at him with wonder and care. Levi doesn’t mean to, but he ends up letting his drink fall from his hands, whether due to his nervousness or the state of his hand after the war.

“Shit,” he spits, upset.

“Sh, it’s alright, Captain.” In a second she is picking up the cup, handing him a handkerchief to dry his hands. She walks a few steps to throw both cups into a trashcan and is again, by his side. Such a quick interaction so as to ease his shame, he could notice it. “Are you alright?”

Levi still doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why she still treats him with such respect, why she seems to care so much for him. But he wants to find out, somehow. He barely nods, but she notices it.

“Good,” she says, while taking the handkerchief back. She is about to put it into her bag again when she feels a hand grabbing hers.

Levi.

He doesn’t even say anything. He doesn’t know how. She seems to understand, though, squeezing his hand, softly. Levi quickly lets her hand go, his cheeks going red. She gets behind the wheelchair again, as the sun is about to disappear, and Levi can hear her chuckling.

“Let’s get you home, Captain.”

He stays quiet, unsure if he could even say something useful.

There’s so much he doesn’t know how to say. How to do.

While she is pushing his chair he notices it again. A slight tremor in her right hand. “My wrist seems to ache lately… Must be from holding the blades for so many years,” she had explained in passing a couple weeks ago. He realises that it’s probably taking a strain on her to push him every fucking day.

“Oi,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Stop pushing me. I can handle it,” he explains, tone serious.

“Oh, no,” her hand is trembling still. “It’s fine, it’s no bother for me, Captain.”

“… It’s an order,” he commands after a moment. She stops in her tracks and he can hear a gentle laugh coming from behind him.

“It had been a while since that, huh.” Confidently, she places one of her hands on his shoulder, gently tapping it. Levi smiles. Barely curving his lips, but he does. He is about to be brave, hold her hand on his shoulder when she removes it from him. “Shit,” he thinks. “Too slow… Too slow? Slow for what? Tsk.”

Despite his missing fingers, he can still push his wheelchair quite properly. It also helps that he can see his street far ahead. She walks comfortably besides him, a silence and gentle ghost as his most devoted companion.

Yeah. There’s definitely something aching in his chest. He had been noticing the past days, feeling getting more painful as they both approach his place. And it has nothing to do with his faulty joints or damaged body or excessive age.

When they reach his door, she asks for his key. Levi gives it to her, his hand lingering for a second too long, reflecting on the brief touch of hands as she grabs it to unlock the door.

He is tired.

And he feels incredibly silly when he realises he doesn’t want her to leave.

“There we go, Captain. I help you in?” she suggests with a bright smile, opening the door.

“… Yes.”

She steps inside and pushes the chair into his living room, almost getting it next to his couch.

“That’s enough” he decides, in a semblance of independency he still wants to maintain.

She nods. “Okay… I guess… I’ll get going, Captain.”

Levi lifts up his gaze. He wants to ask… He wants to know… He savours her image for a moment, her tired expression and the way her dress now looks clumsy and wrinkled but he doesn’t care. Before, before everything had ended up like this he would remind every single cadet to iron their uniforms, all the outfits presentable, so as to look like respectable soldiers and honourable bodies if the occasion arose. Now she can have the privilege of looking messy. Of not worrying about death so often.

“No,” he mutters.

“Huh?” she inquires, taking a step forward.

“Shit,” Levi thinks. “I… I want tea,” he makes up a quick lie.

“Oh, sure. Yes, Captain.” She leaves her bag on the couch and goes into the kitchen, getting a kettle full of water.

He looks at her in quiet admiration.

Levi hardly cries, but he wants to cry in that moment. She turns on the stove for him, and rummages through his cabinets. She finds two cups and a sob is trapped inside his throat.

He doesn’t fucking understand why she stays, why she puts up with his sorry ass but, damn it. Damn it if he at least doesn’t try.

He stands up. His body still holds that ability, though his legs get tired rather quickly. He can still walk, so he does until he reaches the kitchen. She is still deciding on the teas when she sees him.

“Oh, no, Captain, please, just don’t…”

He interrupts her, grabs her waist carelessly and pushes her towards the couch, barely moving her.

“Let me handle it myself.”

“Levi…” She whispers, their faces inches apart.

“Go. Sit,” he mumbles, biting his lips and sending his eyes lower, so as to avoid her face.

“Are you sure?” She inquires a moment after, still close to him. He notices she has a hand on his waist as well, a protective aid making sure he stays on two feet.

“Yes,” he says, more commanding this time. He grabs that hand of hers and pushes her away gently now.

She nods, understandingly.

“I’ll be in the living room,” she adds.

Levi nods at her, making sure she finally gets that ass of hers in the couch. He is now faced with his kitchen. Most of the cups and teas, everything has been moved lower, so as to accommodate to his wheelchair. Slowly, he kneels, searching for a specific flavour for her. When he finally finds the peppermint and rose one, he mentally cheers. He stands up again, slowly, as if to show confidence, making sure from his peripheral view that she isn’t coming to his aid.

She isn’t. He catches her averting her eyes, though. A confirmation that she has been staring.

He decides to stare as well. Supporting himself on his weakened legs, he waits for the kettle to boil, while looking at her. It’s as if she could notice that, because her head doesn’t move, still fixated on an indescriptible point in his living room.

“Oi, what you looking at?” He says, a bit more light-hearted.

A smile forms on her lips before she even turns her head towards him. She doesn’t answer. Just keeps smiling at him.

“Fuck,” he thinks when he realises he has also slightly curved his lips.

Quickly he turns towards the stove, the kettle already boiling. Levi carefully fills the cups with water, letting the leaves rest. He lifts his gaze up to her for a second but it is already enough for her to notice.

“Need help with the cups?” Her, always so worried, so in tune with his needs. No need for words.

“Of fucking course.”

Still, the only answer he gives her is a polite nod. She stands up, approaching him.

“I’ll handle it, Captain. Just take a seat.”

He lets out a sigh, taking himself to the couch and plopping himself there.

“It’s hard,” Levi thinks as he sees her come back to the living room, two cups in her hands. He accepts the drink, his gaze not leaving her features. “I… I can’t.”

He knows he can’t accept kindness: he doesn’t know how to. Still, he tenses his jaw and forces himself to sip the tea as she takes a seat next to him.

“Peppermint, huh?” She hums mostly to herself.

“… Yeah,” comes out of his mouth, unsure, less braver than expected. Is he insecure? Has he made a mistake?

“Good choice” She declares and he breathes again, realising that he had been holding his breath. “Bet you already knew that, right?” She adds, cocking her head.

Levi looks at her again. He has been avoiding her eyes but he hadn’t been trained as a soldier to back down in times of peace.

“I did,” he says, his tone firm, a very weak attempt at showing confidence still. “It’s the one you would always ask for when we would have meetings with the Scouts.”

“It’s good tea.” Her tone seems softer now.

Levi hums, too deep inside his mind to notice it.

She wonders. Wonders if he has ever realized that the only reason she would wander through the headquarters late at night was just to be found and reprimanded by him, the way she would be easily entertained by Levi’s stern face. Wondered if Hange had ever told him about the time she had fallen asleep in their office and woke up, mumbling his name, much to Hange’s delight, though they had promised to keep it a secret.

He looks down at his legs, at his carpeted floor.

He wonders if she had ever noticed the way he would mindlessly lick his lips after looking at her, the boring uniform suddenly a beautiful outfit, making her stand out. Wonders if it was too late to tell her that, yes, after Hange and her had found him, and stitched him up, that he had heard every single word she had uttered near his heart, softly pressing her timid hands on his chest. There hadn’t been time then to discuss anything or even think if it had meant anything else than old scouts being protective of each other, but now…

They finish their teas in silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the opposite, despite the fact that Levi has started nervously tapping his feet against the floor. It is dark outside already, the light from the lamps flowing into Levi’s house, a dog barking a few blocks away.

She stands up, makes sure to wash her cup in the sink and put it away before returning to him.

“Captain?” She mutters. No need for more words.

Levi hands her the cup with slow movements, as if trying to prolong that insignificant action for as long as possible. And when she is already about to head into the kitchen, little plate and teacup in her hand, he decides to be brave. No more lying to himself, no more being a coward. Too many people have died, have bleed, have sacrificed the little they had for a selected group of survivors to be able to live. To enjoy the remaining Earth. For the little ones that survived to be able to find some meaning. Something worth all the pain.

Basking in the fear serves no one. In fact, makes all the death meaningless.

So, Levi looks up at her and grabs her hand, even if he is scared still. Trembling fingers dancing on hers until they secure her hand softly in his. He feels warm even if he doesn’t know what to say, how to convey what he feels. Such a shadow of the man he was. So stupid now.

Levi just wants her to say.

She gasps at the contact but quickly composes herself. A shy smile showing up on her face. They stay like that for a moment, neither daring to break the silence.

“Levi?” She asks after a moment, moving closer to his face, as if asking for permission.

He can only look at her lips in reply.

She shortens the distance between them and kisses him on his lips. It isn’t a big kiss, too flashy or provocative: just a tender contact between two broken people. As soon as he has processed what was going on, she has already moved forward, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

And then, even higher, another kiss on his forehead, her lips remaining close to his face. Levi can’t say anything. Barely reacting. But when she looks at his eyes, she is greeted by the sweet glimmer of tears in them.

Levi. Happy, at last.

And as if reading his mind, she utters: “Do you want me to stay, Levi?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She complies. In the quiet, late hours of the night, Levi wakes up, his body feeling too rested already. It was a habit hard to break, he wouldn’t sleep much anyway. He sighs still, feeling her body pressing against his, holding him from behind. She has one hand on his shoulder, the other keeping him safe and secured, hugging his waist close. He dares to smile and grab that hand across his belly with both of his hands, so as to make sure that it is real: he is being held. There is someone else with him. Levi isn’t alone. Someone is taking care of him. Someone he’s been devoted to for so many years.

He wants to nuzzle up closer, hide in her chest or neck and feel more.

But he doesn’t dare to. He can’t allow himself to do that yet.

So he stays awake in silence, hearing the soothing and steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

Levi still doesn’t understand, though.

He doesn’t want to think of why she has chosen him, how he got this privilege so late in his life, when all hope seems to be lost and the thought of a partner didn’t cross his mind at all. He also doesn’t know what to do with this gift, this blessing. Why? How? He is such a crippled shadow of what he used to be. Slow, so consumed by roughness and violence and so useless now.

He has always had something to fight for: his life, his friends, his Squad, Erwin, Hange. Yet since the Rumbling he has just… fallen behind. He is just existing and it seems like his body has finally caught up to his age: no longer agile and strong, but a weakened man, finally leaving the survival mode that has characterised every single aspect of his life. He doesn’t have any goals or dreams now. Everything had been slowly trampled down like the titans destroying all land and all life.

He shivers, remembering that day and holds her hand tighter.

Once he had completed the promise made to Erwin, his last order, he had nothing more. No more commands. No more slaying titans.

Just existing.

He doesn’t want that. He has been a fighter, a rebel, a monster his whole life. He only knew of endurance and compliance with the spirit of life, of resistance. He doesn’t know of anything else: the calmness, the quietness, the routine walks and just reading books and sitting on his porch… That is not him. That isn’t life. Being able to choose things for himself, devour life gently and enjoy it instead of painfully trying to keep it close, to grip it between calloused fingers… Peace isn’t familiar.

He has nothing to devote himself to, nothing to prove or fight for.

“Yeah,” he thinks. “Everything is… meaningless… Or it was.”

He closes his eyes, relinquishing himself in the warm body against his.

Some things… Some things have meaning still.

Her.

The way she would scrunch her nose when laughing or buy him drinks or attempt to make him laugh or wear that damn stupid wrinkled dress and — “Fuck. I know her so much by now…”

She had been a Scout too. She had fought and devoted her heart and did everything a Scout had to do. She had fulfilled her duty in the same way he did. She has survived and she doesn’t regret a single thing. Not even this life.

She is at peace.

He wants to sob.

He doesn’t understand peace. Sure, it was his goal, what he always dreamed of, but, damn it. Levi had never thought he would actually get to see something resembling it. Unlike her. She understood what it was: she has accepted peace with open arms and a smile that — fuck, somehow— has been shining on her face throughout the years. Despite so much pain and death… She still allows herself to fucking live in peace. She forgave herself for the death, for the pain and crimes and let go.

He isn’t sure if he can do the same.

Peace is foreign, strange even. An oddity. And he isn’t stupid, he knows that time would run up someday and that things would turn against them for a second time.

But, still, the promise of the rest of his life in peace lingers.

He could have it.

He fucking could.

Levi reflects on those thoughts for a moment, silent still.

He thinks he can get to an agreement. Maybe, when she wakes up in the morning, he can try to spill his soul to her a little. Try to understand how she handles this life, how she can get up in the mornings after killing so much, and just have tea with him.

But for now, in the quietness of the night, as the old warrior he was, he does the only thing he knows: he promises to dedicate his heart once more.

He finally has a reason, a purpose, something worth protecting again.

Levi lifts his hand, crossing it on his chest the way all Scouts would do. But he doesn’t press it on his heart, but rather, moves it to hold her hand, the one resting on his shoulder. He squeezes it gently, suddenly feeling too overwhelmed by her. By the silent love she had been proclaiming to him all these years and that he couldn’t reciprocate before.

Yes. Now it is the time.

Levi would dedicate his heart once more.

To her and only her.

That may have been the cheesiest ending ever written but !!!! He deserves it, I know. Also someone stop me before I write for Hange, the feelings got to me indeed. Dividers by @/cafekitsune @/saradika and @/vase-of-lilies

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi x you #levi ackerman fluff #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfiction #aot fanfiction #writer bee #mine #x reader #reader insert

394 notes · View notes