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norrizzandpia · 5 months

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Showing You My Love (LN4)

Summary: McLaren’s forced Lando into a PR stunt of a relationship and his girlfriend, Y/n, back into hiding just when she was ready to go public.

Warnings: language, a condom, angst, a sort of break up, but happy ending

Note: not a request IM SORRY this one isn’t as slay as i can do but i just rlly wanted to get something out bc I haven’t posted in a while and miss yall 🫶🏻 this one’s storyline is quite complicated because Lando is in a PR relationship whilst also having an actual gf sooo have fun? ALSO SMUT FLUFF AND ANGST FOR BOTH LANDO AND OSCAR WILL BE COMING SOON I HAVE LESS THAN A WEEK OF SCHOOL LEFT SO JUST BEAR WITH ME 🙏🏻

“Lan?” Y/n shouts as she walks through the door of his apartment, a large smile on her face as she prepares to ask him a question that could set anew relationship.

She hears a soft sigh before he responds, “In here.”

She travels to the living room to find her boyfriend sitting on the couch, his head buried in his phone.

She sits hesitantly next to him, newfound nerves erupting in her stomach.

“Can I talk to you?” She whispers, his blatant disregard for her presence told her this might not be a good time to breach this particular subject.

He nods nonetheless, waving his hand slightly to signal her continuation, “Sure, what’s up?”

She takes a deep breath, the fact that his eyes aren’t on hers makes her want to back out. She perseveres, although, hands clasped in her lap as she asks, “Do you think we could go public? With our relationship, I mean.”

At this, he freezes. Lando’s fingers stop flying over his phone’s keyboard and he slowly turns to stare at her.

The words try to fall from his lips, but they stop right at the cusp. Lando watches as she retreats into herself, a reality check that cuts deep in her heart as he looks to be rejecting her proposition.

“I…” He hesitates, “I can’t.”

Her eyebrows contort, “Why?”

His phone raises to her face, his hand shoving it in her eyeline to see the text conversation he had been having with Zak before she had sat down. Her gaze floats over the blue bubbles for a moment before she understands and her heart sinks.

“I don’t understand.” She does, though. She just can’t bring herself to accept it.

Lando forces her to, “They want me in a relationship, but a PR stunt. A girl named Olivia, they said.”

Her nails rips at the skin of her thumb, “Why not me?”

“It’s good for the team, baby. She’s a big name, her dad is a big investor. I have to do this.”

It hurts too much to ask, “What does that mean for us?”

He nods, “I knew you were going to ask me this. This doesn’t mean anything for us. It just means that we have to stay quiet for a little while longer. I’m still your boyfriend, Y/n.”

She huffs, “Just in private.”

His arms slithers around her shoulders, a touch so cold she wants to shove it away, “I’ll always be yours. Anywhere. Anytime.”

Sure, let’s see if that proves true, she thought.

—

Olivia is a woman of many things. Kindness is not one of them.

From the moment she steps foot into Lando’s life, Y/n is her main target. From backhanded compliments to obvious jests at her, Y/n watches as Lando lets it all go unsaid.

“Y/n?” Olivia’s voice rings in Y/n’s ear as she stops her staring at Lando.

Turning her head, Y/n smile is strained, “Yes?”

Olivia cocks her head and the sinister look looms beneath her blue eyes, “You’re sitting too close to Lando. Remember, he’s my boyfriend outside. Anybody could see you eyefucking him right now.”

Y/n analyzes the situation. At a lunch table in the paddock, Lando sitting to her left, Olivia to her right, fans and employees scattered amongst the ground below them, Y/n feels her tolerance break a bit more.

She slides her chair across the ground, a dry screeching ringing her ears and drowning out the anger toward the two people sitting closest to her.

Olivia, the woman she loathes, and Lando, the man she hates that she loves. Since the beginning of their act, Y/n has understood where her place is, or at least she has understood from the constant reminder from all people involved. Lando, Olivia, Zak, and Jon have made it their duty to remind her of her image as Lando’s best friend, nothing more.

In the beginning, she felt as though she meant a bit more than just nothing, but, as she sits between the couple as they share small talk, she feels to be falling behind.

A sort of feeling that plasters her heart on the wall and spreads it around until its pieces and bits are left on the ground.

A sort of feeling that forces her to grab her purse and leave the table, mumbling an excuse of wanting to find Oscar, the only other man she knows throughout the paddock.

The feeling worsens when Lando smiles at her, nodding his head along as if there’s no problem.

There’s a wetness pooling in her eyes that begs to differ, that counters Lando’s implications.

🏎️

Y/n finds Oscar in his driver’s room, his body hunched over the bench as he texts Lily on his phone. When he hears the creaking of the door, his eyes lift and begin to soften when they take in Y/n.

“Hey! What’s up?” He cheerfully says, the tone making Y/n draw in a breath as she plasters a smile on her face.

She plops down on his massage bed, “Nothing! Just bored.”

At that, he seems confused, “Where’s Lando? He isn’t free? I feel like it can’t get boring with him.” He chuckles.

She smiles softly, head falling down to stare at her hands in her lap, “He’s with Olivia. Thought I’d give them their space.”

She raises her eyes when she hears Oscar let out a scoff. He stares at her blankly before groaning, “I’m so sorry, I know she’s Lando’s girlfriend and all, but, oh my god, Y/n, I can’t stand her.”

Her teeth shine from her giggles, “Ah, she’s okay. She’s not that bad.”

Oscar deadpans, “Y/n, she asked you how much your Chanel purse was and then told you hers was more expensive.”

Y/n shakes her head, eyes falling back down to her lap, “Yeah, that wasn’t her finest moment.”

“It would make more sense for Lando to date you.” He whispers. Whether he meant for her to hear it or not, Y/n doesn’t know. Regardless, she acts as if she doesn’t, not wanting to have to create a situation where she has to genuinely lie to one of her friends.

As if she hasn’t been doing that for the past year she’s been with Lando.

Lying to every person she cherished most was the worst thing to ask of her. There was a resentment that brewed below the love she had for Lando because of the things he made her give up for him.

“Are you staying for the race? I know it goes pretty late into the night.” Oscar pipes up when a silence encompasses them.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m going to go back to the hotel after this.”

“Oh, too bad.” Oscar sighs as he gets up from his seat, walking over to her and peeking in her bag.

Y/n’s eyebrow inches up, “What are you doing?”

Oscar plants a sly smile on his face as his hand lightly pushes the bag open further, “Got any gum in here?”

She laughs loudly as he continues to search through her bag, less ashamed now. She’s keeled over when she hears him cackle. Y/n looks to see Oscar clasping a small package in his hand, a large smile on his face as he stares in disbelief.

“A condom?! Why do you have a condom?!” He screams, which warrants Y/n to slap her hands over his mouth.

She whispers, “Shut up!”

Oscar's mouth slobbers over her palms as he continues to laugh, “Who are you planning on sleeping with here, Y/n?”

She draws a blank, saying the one thing that comes to her mind, “He isn’t involved with F1.”

Another lie added to the pile she agitatedly sits on.

Oscar draws back, “Oh? There’s an actual man in the picture?”

She grins slightly, grabbing her bag and moving toward the door, “And you wonder why I’m leaving early.”

Oscar stays there, still chuckling at the leftover condom in his hand.

🏎️

Hours later, Lando is running around the paddock like a mad man, stopping random strangers to ask if they had seen Y/n.

Oscar stands off to the side when he hears Lando’s frantic voice behind him, petrifying an innocent fan asking for a simple photo. He waltzes over, hand coming to clasp Lando’s shoulder before saying, “Why don’t you just take the picture, mate?”

Lando turns his head, eyeing Oscar before fully moving his body the other way, “Do you know where Y/n is? I haven’t heard from her at all.”

Oscar looks at Lando blankly, “She left. You didn’t know?”

Lando steps back, “Left? No? What?”

Sensing that there is more to this discussion, he leans around Lando and grabs the fan’s phone. He shuffles Lando and the fan into the frame before snapping the picture, ushering the fan away gently.

When they’re left alone, Oscar questions, “How come you didn’t know? It seemed like a set plan when she told me. She’s going to meet some guy, she said.”

Lando’s eyes bulge, “What?”

The tone is low, intimidating and it makes Oscar doubt the platonic dynamic of the two.

“She hasn’t answered your calls? Have you tried to call her?” Oscar changes the subject, not wanting to realize something when Lando actively has a girlfriend.

Lando shakes his head, “No. Who’s this guy?”

“I don’t know, Lando. She didn’t say anything about him. Ask her about it later. After the race.” Oscar tries, knowing Lando’s presence is direly needed in a few minutes when the lights go out on the track.

Lando huffs, “Fine.”

He walks off, clearly irritated at Y/n’s disappearance.

Oscar watches the scene play out in front of him.

Lando’s figure vanishes from sight.

Then, out of the corner of Oscar’s eye, Olivia’s eyes stay on Lando’s distress before he goes out of sight. She leans against a wall, a smirk on her face that reads something dark.

She shakes her head, tapping away at her phone, as she snickers to herself, seemingly satisfied with her boyfriend’s response.

In the sea of people, Oscar is the only person to witness her behavior.

In the sea of people, Oscar is the only person to see Lando’s and Olivia’s relationship in a different light.

In the sea of people, Oscar is the only person to question what really goes on behind closed doors.

—

“Shit fucking race. Shit fucking day. Shit fucking year. Jesus fucking Christ.” Lando whispers to himself as he unlocks the door to his hotel room.

When he enters through the threshold, the lights are completely out, the only light being the soft sunlight bleeding through the curtains. Y/n’s body lays cuddled under the blankets of the bed and the sight melts Lando’s heart, no matter how disappointed he is in her lack of support today.

He checks the clock, noticing the blaring 7 that makes him feel more comfortable waking Y/n up.

“Baby,” He says lightly, hands shaking her body softly, “Love, wake up.”

She groans under his touch, body crouching further under the bed sheets before her eyelids flutter open.

She looks at him in a raw way that makes him feel exposed, her piercing gaze striking his soul permanently.

“Where’d you go?” He asks as she sits up, blankets still wrapped tightly around her cool body.

She sighs, “I left, Lando.”

“So I heard. To go meet a man, might I add.” He says. Although, this time, it continues to be soft, but there’s a passive undertone that communicates the feeling of abandonment.

She shakes her head, “No, that’s a lie. Just like we are.”

He rears back, “Excuse me?”

His hands are wound tightly across each of her arms and they flex under her skin as the truth lingers in Lando’s ears.

Y/n groans as she pulls herself away from him, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“What? Me? Us?” He adds, his body standing up and towering over her.

She mimics his movement, the sheets falling from her shoulders as she extends her limbs, “Everything, Lando. This whole situation! I was so fucking stupid to think that you being in a PR relationship while we were together was something that could work.”

Lando shrugs, “What are you talking about?! You’ve never told me it wasn’t working!”

Her jaw drops open, “You thought this was working?! You thought I was fine with you parading around outside with another girl? Something I’ve wanted for way too long!”

“Y/n, this is bullshit! It’s on you for not telling me how you were feeling!” He remarks, hands being shoved inside his pockets as they bicker back and forth.

She rubs a hand over her forehead, “No, it’s not bullshit, Lando! You’re bullshit! This whole fucking relationship is bullshit! It’s been a fucking lie from the moment it started! I don’t want to be a part of that.”

He sits back down, head in his hands as they pull at the strands, “I don’t know what to tell you, Y/n.”

She stands, vulnerable and helpless, before him as she whispers, “Do you know what it feels like to feel like the other woman when you’re supposed to be the main one? Do you know what it feels like to feel like a dirty secret, something to be ashamed of and hide from prying eyes? Do you know what it fucking feels like to feel so incredibly alone next to a man who is supposed to give you the world? It feels like shit, Lando. You make me feel like shit. You and Zak and Jon and Olivia and everyone else tied to your name. You all make me feel like shit.”

There’s a tear that falls from Lando’s eye as he wills himself to look her in the eye, “I still want to give you the entire world.”

“You can’t.”

The weight of her statement and the hard way she says it breaks him. She stopped living in delusions long ago and he stayed in a land where having her was possible.

“I’m sorry,” He says, watching her put clothes on and grab her suitcase.

“I know you are.” She responds, a beat passing before she whispers back, “I’m sorry too.”

Her definitive statement achingly stays with him as he watches her gather her things and call an Uber.

“Where are you going to go?” He says softly, almost as if breaking the silence will break them further.

“My sister’s house. You know, you remember cause I told you, she lives a few hours from here.”

He nods, “Text me when you get there?”

She stands at the door, he stands with her, and she shakes her head, “No, Lando.”

She walks out the door, Lando grabs her arm, “Is this it? I don’t understand. Are we…” He can’t bring himself to say it.

She breathes, “I’m not sure either, to be honest. I know I said I couldn’t do this anymore with you, but it’s not that easy and I know what we have. I’ve never felt this before. I just need some time and space from you, from this world. I need to decide if staying is really worth the situation I’ve been put in.”

She walks further down the hall and Lando watches her, a few more sentences lingering in his brain that has him wishing he had said them to her.

He doesn’t get a chance to say them, however.

The elevator doors close before he can get them out.

—

There’s loud cheering and sounds of yells as Lando throws off his helmet, a large smile on his face as his first race win seeps under his skin.

He throws his body into the group of his mechanics, hugging his favorite people, and when he turns, expecting to see his favorite girl, he sees Olivia instead.

He tries to hide his disappointment as he hugs her, her body not fitting the way Y/n’s had.

There’s a silence that falls upon him as he gazes upon the thousands of people yelling his name and he’s hit with a deep wave of grief.

Grieving over the loss of his best friend, the loss of his girlfriend, the loss of the love of his life, the loss of his Y/n.

Images of her dance in his head as Mark Webber ushers him over, a microphone in each hand as he smiles at him.

A memory of the time she told him all the things she loved about him because he was feeling inadequate plagues his brain as Mark congratulates him.

“Lando! Stellar job here today in Silverstone! How does it feel to have your first race win?” Mark inquires, shaking Lando’s shoulder lovingly.

Lando hesitates to answer because, frankly, it fucking sucks. He meets Jon’s eyes and the man looks as if he’s lost himself. Jon stares at him with a deep gaze, a look Lando recognizes as the way Jon looks when he’s utterly ashamed of himself. Lando can already tell what he’s about to mouth before Jon’s lips begin to move, “I’m so sorry.” He says inaudibly.

The Brit takes the three words as a green light. The confirmation he can get his girl back.

“Not great.” Lando says into the microphone, the crowds falling silent at his surprising words.

Mark frowns, “Oh? Why’s that? This is a happy day!”

Lando shakes his head as he looks down and sighs, “You know, I always thought I would be so over the moon to win my first race, but, as I stand here, a trophy awaiting me, I genuinely feel so disappointed. I feel disappointed because I’ve lost sight of the one win in my life that I lost so stupidly. My best friend, Y/n, as everyone knows her, was never my best friend. I mean, she was my best friend, but she was also my girlfriend, somebody I was incredibly in love with. Somebody I am in love with. Shit, this is so messy and so hard to condense into this short interview, but I have to say it. Olivia and I were a PR stunt. There were individuals that wanted me to be dating someone of a higher status, something Y/n doesn’t have. She was forced to sit through four months of excruciating pain because Olivia and I were being shoved in her face. Y/n is one of the strongest people I know, the fact she was able to go through that with a straight face proves that. But, I can’t let what she told me the night she left me go unsaid.” Lando looks into the camera, as cheesy as he knows it is and says what he had wanted to tell her that night as the elevator doors cut him off, “Y/n, you are not the other woman. You are not a dirty secret and you are not alone. You are the complete opposite of all those things. You are the one person I’ve ever truly loved; the one person I want to spend the rest of my life with; the one person I cannot live without; the one person that I cannot bear hurting. I’ve hurt you, I know that, a lot of people involved in this have and I hate that. I hate that I didn’t stop what was going on, fight back against what they were asking me to do. I’m so sorry. If I could redo it, I would. I would say no to it all and go public with you. I would tell you a thousand times yes that night on the sofa when you asked me if we could go public. I would do it all so differently because, maybe I didn’t before, but I know what I’ve lost now and I will fight so much harder for us, harder than I did that night you walked out because I have been in love with you for so long. I’ve waited for you my entire life, even before I knew who you were. I’ve waited for the person I ended up settling down with, waited for the person who stole my breath. I’ve waited for you and I’m not going to let that go to waste. I was dick and I took you for granted. Please let me show you that that was never the way I wanted to treat you, that I can love you better than that. Please let me back in. It’s public now, baby. Public and I don’t want that to ever change.”

Mark smiles brightly at him as the crowd behind them cheers deafeningly, “Young love, yeah?”

Lando nods, “Yeah.”

🏎️

Caroline sits on the arm of the couch next to Y/n, mouth agape. Y/n mirrors her expression, blanket wrapped around her legs as Lando retreats from the frame.

“What just happened?” Caroline, her sister, asks. There’s a small smile on her face as the shock wears off.

Y/n shakes her head, her hands already trying to find her phone, “I don’t know.”

The two watch as Lando is presented with his trophy, the camera zooming in on him as he mouths, “This one’s for you, love.”

Y/n is smiling so hard it’s painful and her sister watches her with delight. When the champagne spraying is done and the feed ends, Y/n leaps from the couch.

“Did you see that?!” She exclaims, giddy laughter over the one thing she had yearned for and finally got.

Caroline joins her incessant jumping, “Yes! It’s public!”

The two squeal together, but the noises are cut off when Y/n’s phone rings from between the couch cushions.

Caroline smiles before exiting the room, Lando’s contact photo lighting up her sister’s screen and cueing her leave.

However, she stays in the other room, eavesdropping without a care in the world.

Y/n picks up the phone, shaky hand bringing the device to her ear as Lando’s panting floods through the speaker.

“Y/n? Were you watching the race?” He asks.

She nods, tears in her eyes as she whispers, “Yes,”

He breathes out a sigh of relief, “So, you saw what I said?”

“Yes,”

He’s quiet for a moment, “And… what did you think?”

He hears quiet giggling on the other end of the phone and his heart soars to the sky, “You have a way with words, Lan.”

“Only with you,” He adds, smiling to himself over the girl miles away.

There’s a loud grunt and crash on his side of the phone, one that sends Y/n laughing.

“Let me guess, Olivia?” She tries to which Lando laughs.

“Right on the nail, baby.” He whispers as her yells continue.

“What do Zak and Jon think about this?” She asks after a time.

Lando tuts, “They’re glad to get rid of Olivia. Jon apologized to me the second I got off the podium. He said he wants to apologize to you too. So does Zak. They both do. They know how they went about it all was wrong and Jon went on this whole rant about seeing me as a son and how he would never want to treat his son the way he had treated me. Trust me, love, they’re as on board with this as we are.”

Y/n nods before asking quietly, “You’re on summer break now, right?”

“Yes,”

“What are your plans?”

He smiles, “Taking the first flight to you. Why?”

Y/n laughs, “I was going to ask you if I could come to Monaco, to see you, but it turns out seeing each other is a problem already solved.”

He chuckles along with her, “No, baby, you stay right where you are. It’s time I start coming to you now. Time I start showing you the lengths I’d go to to keep you in my life, to keep loving you.”

She blushes, “That speech sure accomplished that.”

His cheeks redden just like hers, “Oh, love, that’s just the beginning.”

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indouloureux · 2 years

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no bc that drabble about soft sex with eddie has done something to me augie-

i had a (basically prophetic) vision of riding eddie and like holding his hands like that way where ur fingers are linked and ur like FULLY holding his hands and ur fingers are in between each of his and its just so cute and you both can't stop smiling and lszidufhlifuisjks

(i think the brain rot has finally gotten to me, babe)

-jorj👻

18+ mdni NO BECAUSE i told myself i wouldn't write other things until i finished this 20k fluff BUT

somehow bauhaus's third uncle had moans and grunts and skins slapping now. it had eddie's delirious groans, your high-pitched whimpers and the applaud of your flesh as you bounce on your lover's lap with all the vigor you've mustered.

"that's it, baby," eddie's head throws back against the couch, his hair sticking to his bare chest, an ophidian curl covering the demon right above his heart. he watches his cock disappear in and out of your gummy cunt, his hairy thighs sticky with your mixed arousals. "keep bouncing that pretty body,"

you do. with your hands on his shoulders, fingers loosely tangled in his disheveled mullet, your own hair moved to one side over your left collarbone that just makes the right side of your face so ethereal with the glisten of your sweat; eyes scrunched in ecstasy as your plump lips exude moans that eddie finds himself getting harder if possible.

"fuckin' ozzy, eds," ozzy, his own term for god in his own blissful moments that you'd picked up from him. your boyfriend smiles in his heavy gaze, lips lazy and yearning. "feels s-so good."

your head throws back, presents him his own purple-yellow art work created by love bites and starved sucklings. and he finds himself leaning up to press ever-so chaste kisses onto your neck, riding his lips up to your collarbone until he finds your wet lips.

he kisses you. feverish, hot, amorous. in that frenzied moment, he kisses you like you're in a field up a hill beneath the morphing clouds. with blooming flowers tickling your ankles and the ruffles of your dress grazing his knees exposed from his ripped jeans; like you're not both naked, covered in slick and producing wet squelches from your wild sexes. no, he kisses you, righteous in his own want.

"you look beautiful, honey," he murmurs against your soft skin, finds comfort in it. "like...a slayer. slayer of dragons and all men. you've slayed my heart actually. kept it all to yourself riiight after."

"how–c-can you talk so—...so casually while i'm fucking you?" you laugh incredulously, eyes shut with your eyebrows joint into concentration and forced energy.

"its a talent, i guess," he kisses your temple. "i can be blissed and talk about how beautiful you are at the same time, you little devil."

"thought i was a slayer?"

"you can be a lot of things. a lot of things but you're still you, huh. you, the one that i love," he tucks your hair behind your ear, sees the small dollar-store pearl earring that he bought you and swoons.

you sigh against him. "such a sap, babe,"

he kisses you again.

eddie's hands roam from your waist up to your tatted arms, inked drawings he put on you himself that he traces with his thumb until his fingers slither up to find yours and lace them together.

he pries your lips apart in a soft click, a string of saliva coming with because despite the doting moment, you still are cock drunk. you lazily grin at him, flashing him your pearls that makes him turn liquid and melts back into the backseat of his couch, taking your hand into his and placing them on his chest.

even in moments that don't burn in corybantic lust, he finds himself falling deeper for you. with the sun shining through the trailer blinds and gives you an incandescent glow, his thumbs trace your knuckles, eyes drooping when you clench around his cock and he moans. you smile tiredly, bringing your joint hands up to your lips and kiss its back, before you rest them back to his chest.

he feels you clench a couple more times before you cum onto him and he spills his hot seed into you, moans joined when he kisses you again just because, your hands laced like a delicate silk ribbon, sitting between your bodies to remedy your aching limbs.

reblogs and feedback are appreciated <3

#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things blurb #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction

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siren-serenity · 1 month

Text

a bouquet and scored dates

A bouquet of flowers is a surefire way to score a date with your crush. Seeing it go viral on Magicam immediately made Cater jump in on it too! Who wouldn't want to take this opportunity to blow up their account? And if Cater managed to score a date to the Unbirthday party too, then that's a lovely bonus.

characters: cater diamond, gn!reader, grim cameos!! warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst and self-hate a/n: - i feel so bleh for not writing for slow long so here you go!! a small cater diamond x reader fic bc i love my husband 😍😍😍 - @ceruleancattail, this is also for you!! united by our love for cay-cay, who slay-slays hehe - feedback is appreciated!

A knock against the old, rickety door of Ramshackle made you blink your eyes wearily. Grim leaped off your stomach, walking around the wooden floors before yawning.

"Who disturbed the great Grim's nap?" He yowled out, obviously annoyed. "Come on, I was having such a nice sleep!"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes. "Mhmm...tell me about it."

The knock came again, this time more urgent. There was almost a playful pattern to it, a rhythmic beat building into a melody of taps and raps.

"Coming!" You yelled, sliding across the floors (and proceeding to trip over an uneven wooden board, making one of the three ghosts giggle at you) before landing in front of the door. You swung it open and a grin crawled onto your face. "Cay-Cay!"

The orange-haired student smiled sweetly before winking at you. "It's your favorite junior, Cay-Cay! Good morning, Y/N."

Leaning against the doorframe, you tilted your head. "It's always nice to see you in the morning, but whatcha here for? Classes don't start for another hour..."

You trailed off as a beautiful bouquet came into view. Cater blushed as your scrutinising glance shifted from the gorgeous array of flowers to his face. He fought the urge to hide his face behind the flowers and took a deep breath in. Hopefully, he won't butcher it up! He spent hours on making it perfect all by himself.

(Riddle and Trey let out a sneeze simultaneously before returning to their business.)

...But of course, when did things go to plan?

"So I saw this one Magicam trend online and was like 'OMG those flowers look so adorbs! So I decided to make a couple to follow the trend and wow, I blew up!! The flowers look so beautiful on pictures that people went crazy liking them and I got over a thousand likes in the first hour! So, realizing my talent, I was like 'hey, Y/N likes flowers right?" So I went in the botanic garden, BTW Leona says hi and warns you to never get anywhere near Savanaclaw or the guys will rip you up from limb to limb. IDK but anyways! I got some flowers, put a bit of tender, love, and care, and voila!"

Cater held out the flowers as an explanation. He internally frowned at the ramble he had spoken rather than the touching, sentimental paragraph he planned on reciting. But when your fingers brushed against his to grasp onto the bouquet, his mind blanked out.

Soft...your hands were so gentle against his. A soft breeze caressing a petal.

You took them and held them up to your nose to inhale its sweet scent. It wasn't overpowering, thankfully; It was the right blend of fresh wilderness and soft, subtle floral scents.

"This is...Cater, I'm lost for words," You breathed out.

He gulped and his heart stuttered at the joy in your eyes and your smile. He knew being magicless in a world like his was no easy feat. It was even harder to ignore when every lesson involved the use of magic one way or another; Being surrounded by mages day-by-day would have caused him to go insane if he were you. But, you simply stride onwards. He admired your persistence and optimistic approach to life and it was what had drawn him to you in the first place. Being able to put a smile onto your face made him yearn for an eternity to do that for you, right by your side.

Realizing he hadn't spoken in a while, he cleared his throat.

"Riddle's hosting an Unbirthday party tomorrow."

You raised your gaze from the bouquet to meet his, (E/C) eyes against emerald ones. Cater fiddled with the buttons of his dorm uniform.

It was now or never!

"Would you like to attend with me?"

You laughed and nodded. "Of course I do! I'll go and tell Grim about the party-"

"-I meant with me. As my date," Cater blurted out. His face must be as red as his vest because his cheeks felt as if they were set aflame. "Would you like to attend the Unbirthday party tomorrow as my date?"

"Oh Cater..."

He closed his eyes and tightened his fists involuntarily. He opened his mouth, ready to put a fake (fake feelings, fake friends, mask on his face as usual-) before he felt the softest of kisses against his cheeks.

His eyes shot open as Cater stared at you, faintly registering the close proximity between you and him. The bouquet paper crinkled against his uniform but it seemed that neither of you paid any attention to it.

"I would love too," You smiled softly. "Tell me how you'd like to match? I know you love coordinate couple outfits on Magicam."

Yet another reason why he loved liked you.

"Yeah," He breathed out. "Yeah, yeah I'm going to go do that."

You leaned back and he yearned for your presence again, like a plant bending to the whims of sunlight. It was simply intoxicating.

"See you in class, Cay-Cay," You winked. The bouquet remained clutched in his hands and he was forever grateful for that silly Magicam trend.

He blew you a playful kiss, elation in his veins and joy in every corner of his smile. "Can't wait!!"

Cater skipped all the way back to Heartslabyul, too busy planning your and his outfits to notice the odd glances cast his way.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #cater diamond #cater diamond x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #cater x reader #heartslabyul

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ilyasorokinn · 6 months

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hi me again!! can i request number 3 (hiding face in neck) or number 8 (shielding the other one with their body) from the touching prompt list with frank castle please? whichever one you pick is fine with me <3

NIGHT TIME ACTIVITIES

my last blurb for my tumblr-versary :( tysm to evryone who sent things in! i love and appreciate you all, and i love and appreciate everyone who has followed me or read my work or sent in anything. i love you all! also, i decided to go with both prompts, so slay ;)

3. "hiding face in neck" 8. "shielding the other one with their body" (from this prompt list)

tw: crime/violence

frank didn't like it when you got involved with his nightly activities, but you were able to help him sometimes. this time, you offered him a lot of help.

you were really good with computers, and usually, he would just call up lieberman for help, but he was desperate and didn't have time to call for backup.

you stood behind frank, hands in your pockets as you waited for him to finish picking the lock. once the door was open, he yanked it open and pushed you inside.

"so, how long do we got before they come in and we become target practice?" he asked, scanning the room as you took the usb out of your pocket.

you didn't exactly know what frank needed from these people, but you knew it probably wasn't good information.

"13 minutes starting..." you plugged the usb into the other computer, "...now." your heart was beating fast as you typed away on the computer.

"and you're sure you know what you're doing?" you stopped typing and raised a brow at him, "right. sorry, dumb question." he nodded, turning around and standing guard while you got back to typing.

your eyes went from the block in the corner of the screen to the progress bar in the middle of the screen, "how much longer?"

"almost done," you responded through gritted teeth. you jumped at the sound of tires squealing outside.

"i thought you said we had 13 minutes."

"maybe they were down the street." you snapped. when the progress bar disappeared and the 'download: complete' message popped up on the screen, you ripped the usb out of the computer and turned to frank, "how're we gonna get out of here?"

"working on that." he snapped. before either of youcould do anything, a bullet flew through the wall and landed in the wall right by your head.

you yelped, flinching and covering your head, "down!" frank shouted, grabbing onto you and shoving you to the ground. he moved fast, his body covering you like a shield.

you gripped onto his shirt, shoving your face into his neck, "we're gonna be okay!" you heard him shout over the sound of gunfire.

the people shooting at you must've run out of bullets because the shooting stopped, and you heard tires squealing away. once the coast was clear, frank pushed himself off of you and looked around.

you lay there, trying to collect your thoughts, "hey, you okay?" he asked, bending down next to you again and caressing your hair.

"that was the scariest thing that's ever happened, and i was approached by the fbi to work for them." you reminded him.

he dropped his head, smiling sadly, "i'm sorry. i never wanted you to get involved in this."

"are you kidding? if this is what you go through every night, i never want you to be alone again." you punched him softly in the shoulder.

"awe, you're worried about me." he teased with a smirk, "don't worry, i can take care of myself," he reassured. you pursed your lips, humming.

again, thank you to everyone who sent things in! i love you all <3

taylor's tumblr-versary!

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carolmunson · 11 months

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love language six

love language set list another sunday another sun-slay -- ft. dad!eddie and flashback child!eddie love language blurbies are back in action -- again, these are just vingettes into a relationship with eddie no chronological timeline, no story -- just mini moments. this is longer than my other love language blurbs. reader discretion is advised: eighteen plus content. this blurb explores the concept of eddie being a child of abuse that sides with the abuser for his own safety and struggles with that as an adult. some content in this work may be uncomfortable to read, and if dv or abuse is triggering for you, i would not recommend reading it -- this work features rough language, references to abuse, abusive language, descriptions of abuse, and attempted domestic violence. the ending is not sad, i promise.

1971, Forest Hills Trailer Park sherri munson squats down in a shift dress with flowers that match the ones growing in the patch outside of the kiddie park. her sandals crease. the skin by her eyes has too. up all the time, just waiting. waiting for her boy to cry. waiting for her husband to come home. waiting for the cops to show up. she was gonna be a dancer one day. now she stays up and waits. now she just fights with her son about when it’s time to leave the park.

'well i don't have to listen to you anyway!' he whines, ripping his hand away from her with all his five year old body could muster. 'yes you do, eddie honey, i'm your mom,' she tries to laugh it off, but it comes out half-hearted. the other mothers at the park look at her, their eyes burn as hard as her husband hits.

'no you're not!' he yells, stomping while she takes his hand again. 'eddie, yes i am, i'm your mother, let's go,' she urges. he rips his hand away again and raises it the way her husband does when he's warning her.

'you're -- you're what daddy says you are, mommy,' he yells, tearing up in anger, not sure where to put it. she tries to reach for him but he brings his hand down to strike, only cutting through the air.

'baby, we just have to go home from the park, we can come back tomorrow,' she pleads.

'daddy's right, what he said to you this mornin’ -- you’re – you're a fuckin' idiot.' he sounds like like him, just smaller. she knows he doesn't know what he's saying, what that means. but it hurts the same way it hurt at breakfast when she spilled some coffee on the counter. maybe worse. she can't find it in herself to yell at him.

'that was a very mean thing to say to mommy, ed,' she mutters, the balloon in her chest swelling and swelling, 'say you're sorry.'

'why should i? daddy never has to say sorry,' he shouts while she catches him by the hand again. the other mom's sizzling stares soften, perfectly plucked brows raising. she can almost hear their necks turn to give each other knowing glances.

'that's just how your daddy is, ed,' she sighs, watching him pout at her with big glassy brown eyes, 'let's go home, baby. i'll make you some chocolate milk with your lunch.'

that perks him up and he smiles, hand clasping in hers while the others watch them leave like a bad car wreck. she tries not to hear them whisper, she tries not to hear their words travel through the wind and blow through her hair, through her chest. it's not anything she hasn't heard before.

she’s doing dishes when ed's daddy and wayne come home from lake doing some fishing. wayne moved in next door after the first time alan put her in the hospital. eddie was too young to remember that part, old enough to remember that mrs. marsden let him have so many popsicles when he stayed with her that his tongue was blue for two days.

she focuses on the rush of the water and the ‘scratch, scratch, scratch’ of the sponge on a pan that never feels clean. she swallows while her husband's keys jingle in the door. her eyes watch the suds slide off the pan in a cloud, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing -- maybe if she just stares down at the sink she’ll go right down the drain. then she won’t have to –

"hi honey," she says down to the counter next to the sink. eddie sits at the kitchenette table, nursing his glass of chocolate milk.“hi daddy,” he says quietly, big brown eyes follow his father’s every move – half scared, half enamored. big man. big angry man. never hits him, just hits mommy. so he must be good if that’s what happens. he must be so good.

"hm," he grunts, door slamming behind him. it doesn’t take long when he’s in one of his moods. he stalks down past the living room and into the bedroom to change out of his sticky clothes – summer heat making him slide like a snake back out to the kitchen. “house is a fuckin’ mess sherri,” he says. big man. big angry man. boa constrictor tight on her throat while she swallows. why can’t the drain just swallow her the same way?

scratch, scratch, scratch. scrub, scrub, scrub.

“you hear me sher? i said the house is a fuckin’ mess,” he bellows from the side of her. eddie covers his ears. big man, big angry man. big voice stained with fifteen years of cigarette smoke.

“yeah, i heard you al,” she says to the suds as they float down the drain. her heart aches. balloon in her chest pops.

“oh, you’re bein’ smart with me?” he asks, big angry hand reaching out to clutch her by the back of the neck. pulled out of the drain and into the wall, “you bein’ smart?”

she braces as her side hits the wall, she can smell the beer on him like white on rice. she wants to scream at wayne for letting him come into the trailer this drunk. “m’not being smart with you al,” she grits out. “yeah you ain’t smart, are you?” he taunts, hovering over her. big shoulders, big arms, big everything – big man. big strong man, “you know what you are?” she shakes her head no, eyes shutting tight – she can just float down the drain. “y’already forgot huh? damn sherri – you fuckin’ stupid? i told ya this morning,” he barks a laugh that sends heat down the back of her throat, her nose warms, the threat of tears warns her the way he does – always just on the line. “you’re a fuckin’ idiot,” he bites, “you lazy fuckin’ bitch.” “you gotta stop sayin’ that shit in front of ed, alan,” she says quietly, hair sticking to her face and neck. sweat and sticky. can’t keep fighting anymore kind of hot.

“oh how come?” he asks with fake concern, “he believin’ it? he cert’n’ly should.” he turns to eddie, with a flash in his eyes, “you think your mama’s a fuckin’ idiot, boy?” big strong man. big angry man. big boa constrictor with big snakey eyes. kaa’s hypnosis. “i asked you a question,” he seethes, his body close to turning completely. eddie sees the gold ring glint on his fist. “yessir,” he nods quickly, “y-yeah…that’s what mommy is.” “look how scared you got him, al!” she yells from the drain in her chest, “look how scared he is! look what you’re doin’ to him!” but he didn’t ask her to speak. eddie covers his ears again but it doesn’t block out the first three cracks of his daddy’s palm across her face. doesn’t block out the crunch of his knuckles on her cheek. he shuts his eyes like is mama always tells him, runs to the cupboard under the sink to hide. crack, crack, crunch. wail, crack, crunch, cry. cry, cry, yell, crack, yell, crack, crunch, cry, yell. eddie watches through the space in the doors like a movie he’s too young to watch. rated r. rated never. warm yellowed wallpaper and orangey wood staring back at him, his daddy’s fishing boots stomping into frame. a small smatter of blood on the scuffed linoleum tile. rated r, rated never. yell, yell, yell, choke, spit, cough, cough, yell. yell, yell, cry, yelp, cough, whimper, yell, cough. wayne’s voice cuts in the pattern. “i told ya alan, i’d shoot ya the next time i had to come in here.” whoop, whoop. the flashing lights eddie sees every few weeks glitter on the back wall of the kitchen where he can see through the space. glittering while the sun shines. he likes that. “nah, nah, you ain’t gonna run from ‘em this time al,” wayne says. eddie can’t see the scuffle. “she ain’t even fuckin’ concious.” she was gonna be a dancer one day. eddie stays in the cupboard. just for a little, even after his daddy takes a night in the clink. even after wayne says it’s okay to come out. even while his chocolate milk stands on the table untouched. he stays for a minute, while the world around him rumbles.

1997, Forest Hills Trailer Park

and the world sure does rumble sometimes. hazy afternoon had been smooth sailing for the most part -- pick bud up from summer rec camp, grocery run. chasing bud through the aisles while his laugh plays marco polo with yours. it's good to buy your five year old some chocolate when he behaves. it's good to watch him run around again when you get back home, hustling in the backyard in your new trailer with two bedrooms. letting him run through some sprinkler toy you saw at dollar tree a couple weeks ago before the weather got hot. covered in mud, soon enough, covered in clouds. you’re thankful he’s inside before the rain starts. down pour – the sky heavy with thick air and angry beatings to your tin roof. you slip off his shoes before he tracks mud in the house, you rinse off his hands before you get him changed into something more cozy that’ll make bedtime go a little easier. you start dinner after fixing him a snack and he muses about four square and kickball – you silently laugh when he tells you he got picked first for the teams. money’s tighter now. tighter than it was a couple years ago. a little too tight when you switched to part time to pick up bud from kindergarten and camp since wayne’s working day shifts now. wayne’s too old to be watching bud now anyway, bud’s all over the place. the tighter the money, the bigger the fights. but you both knew how to fight. masters of the ring, big booming cracks of lighting for tongues. always in bed dressed in pajamas and apologies. maybe less so now. maybe less apologies, less pajamas. speaking in bodies and sweat – soft rumbling i’m sorry, lemme show you. you don’t think either of you mean it like you used to. he can afford a nicer trailer for his son, but sometimes he doesn't know if he can afford to show him how to treat a woman. you swear it's progress, but he only hears the whir of the tape being rewound over and over again. every clipped word, every raise of his voice, every tense roll of his shoulders. boy turned big man. big big man.

you start the oven, slicing and dicing while he comes in the door – coveralls all covered in rain and motor oil. big boots on the linoleum, faint smell of beer on his breath. just one with the guys after the shop closed – that’s what he says anyway.

“hi honey,” you say, chop-chop-chopping at the green onion on the cutting board, “rain’s rough out there?”

“hm,” he replies, kicking his boots off next to bud’s sneakers. he sighs out of his nose, “s’mud all over the place here.”

“i know, i’m sorry, i forgot about it – i’ll get to it after dinner,” you say, hearing him make big steps over to his son, running a hand over his hair. just wanna avoid another back and forth – let him sleep off all that frustration – ease out the elastic in his shoulders that’s waiting to snap.

“you know,” he grumbles lowly, coming over to look at the mail on the counter next to you, “you’ve been gettin’ real forgetful lately.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask with a smile that can’t believe he’d say that. you put the knife down.

“why’d i get a call from the city today saying the water bill’s past due?” he asks, a darkness creeping into his voice that’s been turning his tongue to sludge, to whipping winds, cruel and unforgiving, “you tryna make me look bad? want people to think i can't pay the fuckin' bills?”

“i – shit i forgot to drop it off yesterday, i’m sorry hun,” you soothe, “i’ll bring it tomorrow, i wasn’t trying to make you look bad.”

“you can’t just forget this shit,” he says, voice rising, “we got –”

“mommy, can i have some more juice?” bud’s little voice leaks into the conversation like a dove floating by.

“yes, baby,” you say, getting the juice out of the fridge to refill his cup at the table.

“we got a kid at home,” ed repeats, "can't just have the water shuttin' off. what's wrong with you? take some responsibility."

“i understand that ed,” you reply, defensive edge sliding up in your voice like a razor, “i’m the one whose with him all day.”

he scoffs, grumbling, “yeah, you pick him up from camp – mother of the fuckin’ year. can’t even pay the bills on time with all my fuckin’ money.”

“watch your mouth,” your voice stern while you close up the juice. thunder rumbles overhead, the rain coming down in droves. two cracks of lightning who can’t let up.

“you don’t tell me what to do,” he glowers, “you don’t ever tell me what to do. i’m the man of this house, you hear me?”

“man of the house? you hear how you sound?” you ask, leaning forward on the table, “why don’t you go back to the garage and figure this attitude out, ed?”

“don’t run your mouth to me,” he growls, “don’t get fuckin’ smart with me.”

“watch. your. mouth.” you warn again. bud flinches when the thunder rumbles, he hates storms like this. drinks his juice anyway. “oh, so you are gettin’ smart with me?” eddie grimaces, bearing his teeth, nostrils flaring. he vibrates with the thunder outside. "well let me tell you something then, huh?!" he grits out, rounding the table with an outstretched hand to grab you, wrapping like a vine on your wrist. like a snake. you flinch when you see how fast he moves, when he reaches for you -- cracking like lightening, like a whip, cracking like your marriage this year. "wait, wait, i'm sorry!" your voice sounds breathy, worn down -- terrified. it doesn't sound like you at all. “god, you’re such a fuckin’ id–” your son drops his fork on the ground, clattering eddie back to clarity. your son's eyes match your husband's, they meet each other. your son just stares -- frozen on the spot. you stare too. you look at his hand around your wrist, the flex in his forearm, veins lifted and pulsing. big man. big strong man. big strong angry man. just like his daddy. the wind howls outside, huffs of breath out of your noses fill the room quietly.

"daddy?"

eddie straightens, looking at his hand tight on your wrist before letting it drop to his side. he swallows. looking at the both of you like he was mid crime scene. eddie blinks. looks at his son at the kitchen chair and then the cupboard under the kitchen sink. "i..." he starts, choking on the words, "i'm gonna go for a drive."

he stands for a second while you nod at him, eyes brimming with tears you aren’t sure will fall. rooted to your spot, you hold your breath when he leans in, hands reaching out much more gentle than before. he fills the space between you, still smelling like motor oil, rain, and musk. both of his calloused hands on your cheeks now – he kisses you.

"m’sorry,” he says, loud enough for your son to hear. he lets go only to turn around and take his son’s face in his hands and give him a kiss too.

“sorry, buddy,” he says softly, “daddy’ll be back before bedtime, okay?”

in five years, eddie has never missed one night of reading him a bedtime story. “okay,” your son smiles, earning himself another kiss on the top of his head and a ruffle of his hair before eddie grab his keys. the jingle of them rings in your chest while you watch him leave. your eyes linger on the storm door even while you listen to the car start, even while you hear it drive away. the rain doesn’t let up. you put dinner in a tupperware for him later. — you’re in the bathroom after a shower when he comes home, the door partially open in case bud needs you – cozied up in bed playing with dinosaurs in his room. you listen while eddie makes his way in to see him, padding down the hall in wet feet to not get caught. “hi buddy,” he says with a voice that had done nothing but cry, “how was dinner?” “was yummy,” your son says. you know bud’s looking up at him with glowing admiration. his daddy. he was his daddy’s boy. the bed creaks when eddie sits down. “i’m glad, kiddo,” he says, “i wanted to say sorry for how mean i was earlier. i was being really mean and that wasn’t nice.” “you were really mean to mommy,” buddy mumbles, “you made her cry.” you hear ed’s voice crack, “i know bud, i know i made mommy cry, and that’s not okay.” “and i’m not gonna yell at mommy anymore, and i’m sorry.” “mommy’s the best,” bud says, “but it’s okay to be angry sometimes, that’s what they say at camp. just count to three!” “daddy’s angry is a little different, bud,” he tries to explain, a little laugh coming through, “but i’ll try it next time, i’ll count to three.” “and take deep breaths,” bud explains. “and i’ll take deep breaths,” eddie says through sniffles, you can hear the soft smile in his voice. “and bud, i think we should make a big promise to each other, would that be okay?” he asks your son. big shiny baby brown eyes. eyes that get kissed by the moon. “mhm.” “let’s promise that we won’t ever yell at mommy, or call her any names, because that’s not nice,” eddie says softly, “that was really mean of daddy and mommy doesn’t deserve that. and i don’t want you to think that’s okay.” “okay, i promise,” bud’s voice leaks like a dove through the door. you hear a kiss pressed to his forehead while eddie stands up to grab the beat up copy of the hobbit next to bud’s bed. you’re in your pajamas in the bedroom by the time ed’s done putting your son to bed. he somes in quietly, looking you over post shower – beautiful bride, beautiful wife, so pretty like this. so pretty for him – big man. big strong man. big sorry man. “i owe you an apology,” he says softly. “yeah,” you say, cold cream soothing your hot skin like ice while you slather it on. eyes avoid him.

“m’so sorry, baby,” his face cracks like all the plates his daddy shattered, that you’ve shattered too, “that’s…that’s not me – i’d never – i never thought i’d–” "i know you wouldn't," you say quietly, knowingly. your eyes travel – how many slats are in the wood paneling of this room? "cause if you did --" you finally find it in you to look at him. "if you did, if you ever raised a hand to me or bud –” “i would never,” he urges, “i’d never–” “if you did,” you repeat, eye piercing him, “i would get in that car with your son and you would never see us again, do you understand me?” he nods, face blanching, tinged green at the thought. he could’ve lost you both. he could still lose you both. “bless her soul ed, but i’m not your momma,” you remind him, “m’not gonna stick around for a man who thinks i’m a punching bag.” he nods again, quiet, tongue thick when he talks. “i’m so sorry, baby i’ll – i’m gonna do better,” he sounds like he means it, “i’ve just..things are so hard right now. i’m trying.” “try a little harder,” you say softly. “i will,” he says, wiping his eyes while they brim with tears as wet at outside. “i love you,” you start, “but i think you should go stay at wayne’s tonight.” his lower lip quivers, “o-okay. i – um – i love you, t-too.” he packs some clothes for the night and tomorrow even though wayne’s just three trailers down. his heart sinks when he realizes he’ll have to explain. just like his daddy. big strong man. snake eyes. snake eyes gone soft. big sorry man. big sorry eyes. kissed by the moon. kissed by you. “i’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, okay?” you say gently after his full warm lips break from yours, “just think you need some time alone tonight.” he nods against you, eyes closed. lips brush again. he leaves and you listen to the storm door close with a rattle. the world rumbles. so does he. but he’s gonna be better.

#love language em #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #dad!eddie #dad!eddie munson #stranger things fan fiction #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie x reader

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helpallthenamesaretakenblog · 3 months

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EPISODE 8 😭😭 THE FEELS

the first line being 'look, you didn't ask to be a half blood' 😭😭 this is the shows equivalent to the good kid reprise

The wooden sword 😂

they have my respect for showing a luke and percy practicing sword fight scene SERIOUSLY the rest of the riordanverse percy still hears advice from luke while swordfighting and that is a plot point that is so special to me okay

the transition from luke to percy as he asks for single combat it's SO CINEMATIC I LOVE IT

The threatening aura of ares after being grumpy and comedic is chefs kiss about dayum time

I wish they kept the scene where percy says something along the lines of "we didn't mention any dreams" when ares yells that gods don't dream but ofc tv!percy knows all

cue one of the most epic sword fight scenes of the century

IM THE SON OF POSEIDON NOW FACE THE TIDE INSIDE OF MEEEEEEEE

NO SERIOUSLY SOMEBODY MAKE AN EDIT

THE SIZE OF PERCY COMPARED TO THE WAVE, THE WAVE ENVELOPING BOTH OF THEM

The camera shots are too good I swear

Ok that was short

I kinda missed the police cars and the sirens in the background and the reporters and all that chaos

sallys in the breeze she's in the trees

Alecto redemption arc wasnt on my bingo card but I actually like it guys

THE NECKLACE

percy staring at annabeth as she makes it harder each day to believe no one cares about him will never get old ❤️

“Wheres the glory in that” lazy ppl dont need glory

Rip lance reddick❤️

the next time hes going to roast zeus’s family percy is going to be older and more intimidating ZEUS IS GOING TO LISTEN and thats something so amazing

the way that percy fell to the ground with his arms on his head by instinct as zeus raised his lightning bolt

POSEIDON YASSSSS

”perseus” wait a sec is this the first reveal of percys real name?

THEIR ACTING AS ALWAYS 10/10

”can i ask you a question?’ DID YOU EVER HAVE SOMEONE KISS YOU IN A CROWDED ROOM AND EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR FRIENDS WAS MAKING FUN OF YOU

Dude was like no hon i aint gon tell bout what i dream about your mother kaboom peace out

huggggg (btw guys im in this show im the camper in the background clapping for the hug) i love that laugh from percy like ‘yep this is how we roll now not bad’

I love that theyre using that position to just ominously talk about clarisse not even letting go, just hugging it out talking about the traitor

Luke and annabeth in the same frame!!! We got a hand on annabeths shoulder AND NOTHING ELSE

THE CINEMATOGRAPHY OF THE NEXT SCENE IS UNPARALLELED

THE WAY THE FIREWORKS GET DARKER AND DARKER AS LUKE IS CAUGHT

Backbiter glowed up fr now he can make interdimensional portals

also percy knows everything as usual.

the girls are fightinggggg

”im sorry” *luke taking advantage to slash percy in the arm* you will always live in my heart

The heartbreak in lukes eyes

the hearbreak in annabeths eyes

also that shot of leah against the bright lights of the fireworks makes her look so pretty

ok we’re just going to gloss over the sadness of the betrayal

Can i just say i love chirons casting SO MUCH im so excited to see him party next season

“I am percy jackson” slay

ANNABETHS PIGTAILS ARE SO CUTE

OFC SHES GOING TO DISNEY WORLD

the way shes just worrying about what it might do to kill her 🥺

annabeth: *Exists*

percy: ❤️🥺😁🥰

THE LIL FLOWER

HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

bro literally gave us the percy and sally reunion of our dreams

”your survival is the key to my rise” get lost grim reaper

petition to call kronos grandpa every dream

ILL BE BACK NEXT SUMMER YOULL SEE ME AGAIN ILL BE BACK NEXT SUMMER ILL SURVIVE TILL THEN

Percy arming himself with the umbrella

I BETTER GET SEASON 2

Woooooooooooo gabe dieeeeee

#percy series #pjo #percy jackson #annabeth chase #rick riordan #percabeth #pjo fandom #heroes of olympus #pjo tv show #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo tv series #grover #percyjackson #taylor swift #taylor alison swift #swifties #tswift

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hoejosatoru · 2 years

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Night Nurse

Pairing: Fem!reader x Ran

Summary: Ran turns up at your apartment in the middle of the night beaten and bloody. It is not an uncommon occurrence, as he is a top member in an underground fight club. You, however, have told him time and time again you will not be his nurse anymore, nor his girlfriend. Ran however, is a terrible listener and obscenely charming, a dangerous combination for your resolve. My bestie helped me flesh this out slay.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Blood/talk of injuries, mention of needles and stitches, medical content that is not at all accurate RIP sorry, toxic relationship, face sitting, unprotected sex, not proof read sorry cowboys

Bang! Bang! Bang!

You jolted awake at the sound of pounding on your front door. If you were a normal person, you’d be scared a stranger was trying to break in, but your life has been anything but normal since meeting Ran Haitani. You knew it was him on the other side of the door and you could easily guess what state he was in.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

You sighed, reluctantly pulling yourself out of bed. You knew he wouldn’t go away without talking to you. You reminded yourself of the promise you made to yourself to not let him again as you scurried to the door.

“Ran, I know it’s you,” you said to the door with as much confidence as you could muster, “I told you not to come here any more.”

“Come on, y/n, I need you,” his voice was muffled through the door, but it was definitely him. “I have nowhere else to go.”

“That’s not my problem anymore,” you replied. Ran had been your problem for quite some time. You met him in college and were drawn to his charm and good looks. There was, however, something that always felt a little dangerous about him. It wasn’t until your relationship got more serious that you realized Ran got himself wrapped up into some shady business. Namely: fight clubs.

It didn’t seem that bad at first. Ran was good at it and he made a lot of money from winning. He didn’t look like it given his slender build, but he was strong and could fight with the best of them. He’d get a little beat up, sure, but nothing terrible.

That was where you had come in. Ran always came to you after fights looking to get patched up. What started as some minor scrapes and bruises quickly escalated to more significant injuries. You had stitched him up on multiple occasions, with only your minimal first aid training to guide you. Ran started to come at all hours of the night like this, begging for your help while beaten and blooded. It scared you to see him like this; you feared one day you’d find him dead in front of your door.

You begged him to stop and promised you everytime he would. Everytime, that lie was broken. You quickly realized it wasn’t about the money for Ran, it was the danger, the rush of it all. He, you thought, loved fighting more than he loved you. With that revelation, you broke it off.

“Please y/n, I’m hurting real bad,” he groaned. You could tell he was out of breath and in pain. But you needed to stand strong.

“They have hospitals for a reason, Ran,” you replied.

“You know I can’t go to one,” Ran whined, “Please, I need you y/n. Only you.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, melting against your will. It pained you to hear him like this. It was why you had to stop seeing him. It was one thing for him to break his promises, but seeing him hurt himself like this killed you. You couldn’t take the stress of wondering about his well being all the time. And you certainly wouldn’t support his fighting by playing nurse.

“I told you no,” you replied as firmly as you could, “I can’t keep doing this Ran I- I told you I never wanted to see you again.”

“Baby, I’m begging,” Ran said, sounding desperate as ever, “This will be the last time, I promise. Just need you this one last time and I won’t bother you again, I - fuck- I swear it.” You’ve heard all that before. Many, many times. It was the reason you changed your locks and started sleeping with your phone across the room from you. You were weak, if you saw him calling you’d always answer.

Taking your silence as wavering determination, Ran continued, “I’m not going anywhere I- I fucking need you y/n. You know how bad I need you. You can’t leave me out here like this, I'm bleeding out.” Tears pricked at your eyes, feeling that old fear for him creeping in.

“Ran, please” your voice shook, “I don’t wanna see you hurt I- I can’t.”

“I’m sorry y/n, I know. I’m such a fuck up. I’m so fucking sorry I do this to you baby I-I just don’t know how to- ow fuck… I don’t know what to do without you. I’m fucking lost,” Ran rambled, sounding like he was crying, “I’m sorry I keep asking. But please, I promise. Just this one last time.”

You sniffled, refusing to let your tears spill out. A weak voice came out of you, “Last time? You promise?”

“I promise baby, no I swear it,” Ran replied quickly, knowing he’s got his hooks in you, “I don’t wanna hurt you anymore. Just need you so bad.”

You sighed, cursing yourself for being so fucking weak. All the promises you made yourself were broken with the click of a lock. You pulled open the door, gasping when you saw Ran slumped next to your door. He looked worse than he sounded. From what you could see in the dim light of your apartment hallway his nose was bleeding, as well as cut over his left brow dripping blood down his face. The blood splattered down to his torn up shirt - though you reckoned some of it wasn’t his. Your heart fell to your feet when you saw him holding his side, his shirt saturated with blood.

“Ran, what happened to you,” you gasped, helping him into your apartment.

“Fucking coward pulled a knife on me,” Ran grumled, stumbling slightly as he got his footing. Seeing the horrified look on your face, he added, “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Well it looks really fucking bad, Ran, Jesus. If he stabbed you you have to go to the hospital. I'm not equipped for stab wounds,” you replied.

Ran was already making his way to your bathroom. “It’s not a stab, just a slash. It’s not even that deep. I’m just a bleeder, you know that.” It was true; it was a miracle that man had any blood left in him.

“If I check it and its stab wound I’ll drag your ass to the hospital myself,” you grumbled as you dug through your closet for the first aid supplies. How many times had you told yourself you would get rid of this stuff? It was a monument to your failure, like deep down you knew you would never really turn Ran away. You sighed, gathering up the kit and some old towels before lugging it all to the bathroom.

Under the stark lights of your bathroom, Ran’s wounds looked even more startingly. There was a mix of fresh, red and dark, dried blood on his face. A hint of a bruise was forming under one of his eyes. His lip was a little swollen, but not split. His shirt was a tattered mess and the splotch of blood where the knife got him was making you nervous.

“I need you to take your shirt off,” you instructed, washing your hands.

“Didn’t think you would be trying to get me naked so soon,” Ran smirked, hiding a wince as he hopped up on your counter. You rolled your eyes, trying not to stare as he yanked his t-shirt off. You took a deep breath before turning to look at his body, reminding yourself to stay focused on the injuries and not him.

Your eyes immediately went to the injury on his right side. It was smeared with blood, but looked to be just a slash as Ran said. You leaned in, gently examining the wound, which luckily was not as deep as the bleeding would make it look.

“Alright I can do it,” you replied, “but you really should go to the hospital for something like this.”

“Hospitals ask too many questions,” Ran stated, “Besides, none of the nurses look this good.” His eyes scanned your body and suddenly became aware of just how little you were wearing. A thin t-shirt and underwear was all that covered you, making you blush. It was silly, seeing as Ran had seen you naked many times, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being exposed.

“Shut up and make yourself useful,” you grumbled, handing him a towel and an ice pack. You instructed him to keep the towel pressed to his side to stop the bleeding and the ice pack on his eye to slow the swelling. It was best to keep his hands occupied, especially when you were this close. His knuckles, you now noticed, were cut up and would need attending to later.

You shifted your attention to cleaning up his face. You soaked a towel in warm water, gently working at removing the blood on his skin. You started from the top, working carefully around the wound on his forehead that would need stitches. You held his chin in your hand, ignoring the way he stared at you as you cleaned the blood coming from his nose. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t calm the thumping in your chest.

Ran let out a soft laugh. You scowled, “What?”

“You always get this look on your face when you're focused,” he replied, wearing a sheepish grin, “‘s cute.”

“Yeah, right,” you mumbled, shaking off his compliment. You couldn’t let him distract you, not with all the work you had to do. After all the blood was off his face, you got out the antiseptic and cleaned the cut on his forehead. Ran winced slightly, but kept on a brave face.

As the antiseptic did its thing, you began examining the rest of his body. Luckily, there was not much more going on. You repeated the process of wiping off the blood and cleaned any little scrapes you found. His body was littered with them, along with bruises and old scars. He wore them well, somehow.

“You think I’ll live?” Ran asked as you checked on the cut on his side. The bleed had slowed considerably. You guessed that once you finished stitching up his forehead it would be ready.

“You’re like a roach Ran, nothing kills you,” you replied, sanitizing your needle.

Ran laughed, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You know, if you don't want this to scar you really should go to a professional,” you grumbled in a futile last attempt to change his mind. Knowing you didn’t stand a chance, you started threading the needle before he even replied.

“Didn’t you tell me scars were hot?”

You did say that, once upon a time. “I thought you’d care more about your pretty face.”

Ran smirked, “So you think I’m pretty, huh?”

You looked up at him, your heart squeezing in your chest. He was pretty, of course. Beautiful, even. So much so that it was hard to look at him now, knowing you couldn’t have him. “Pretty stupid,” you grumbled, “Now sit still and shut up.”

“Love it when you tell me what to do,” Ran teased, but obliged. You took away the ice pack for now, so you didn’t have to work around it. Ran behaved, resting his hand on the counter. You slipped between his thighs, getting as close to him as possible and hoped to god he couldn’t see the blush that was rising in your cheeks.

You got to work quickly, but carefully. Being so close to him was not easy. Warmth radiated from his body and his scent filled your lungs - warm, earthy, and a little sweet. You fought the urge to lean into him, to really breathe it in. You wanted to be away from him as soon as possible, before the spell that is Ran Haitani fully took hold of you, but you knew you couldn’t rush the stitches. You put all your focus in the task at hand: keeping the needle at a 90 degree angle, pressing it through the right depth, tying the sutures with just the right amount of tightness, repeating the process at equally-spaced increments across the wound.

Ran sat silently the entire time. If nothing else, he was a good patient when it came down to it. He took everything like a champ, barely even wincing. When you finished, you took a step back to admire your work. Ran turned around, peering into the mirror to get a look for himself.

“You’ve gotten really good at this,” Ran said.

“Unfortunately, I’ve had a lot of opportunities to practice,” you narrowed your eyes at him. He just smiled his stupid, charming smile. You placed the ice pack back in his hand. “Here, careful of the stitches.” Ran gingerly pressed the ice pack back to his now purple eye.

You pulled away the towel from his stomach. As you suspected, the bleeding stopped. You quickly wiped off all the dried blood that had collected in the area and began sterilizing the needle. When you turned back to the wound you realized the angle was too awkward; you were gonna need him to lay down. You spread out some towels for him before instructing him to lie down.

“Anything for you baby,” Ran replied with an easy grin.

“Ran. Please,” you warned. You hated the way your heart fluttered at, ‘baby.’ You were so weak for him it was sad. You steadied yourself while Ran got himself comfortable on the floor. You got down on your knees and started prepping for the stitches. You tried getting a good angle, but it was hard to position them right when going from the side.

“What is it?” Ran questioned, noticing your frown.

“This angle it’s just…” your voice trailed off. It would be easier if you could straddle his lap and go in directly over top, but the thought of being in his lap made your stomach flip.

“Just what?”

You sighed. “Well it’s hard to stitch on an angle like this. It’s bad for the healing if they're not straight. It would be easier if I could… um- well sit in your lap.”

Ran smiled, resting his hands behind his head. “That’s not a problem with me.”

“Alright, I’ll be quick,” you said more for yourself. You carefully swung your leg over him, trying to sit yourself lower down on his thighs. The angle was much easier, just not on your heart rate. “So you're fighting with knives now?” you asked as you began your stitches. You figured a little conversation would help keep your mind off things.

“I’m not because I’m not a fucking coward,” Ran replied, “Hanma’s just a crazy bastard pulling knives on people.” You shivered a little. You met Hanma once outside of the fight club and there was always something unsettling about him. Ran’s worst nights were usually against him.

“He’s gonna kill someone someday,” you stated.

“Probably,” Ran replied, “But not me. I beat his ass for pulling that shit with me.”

“You’re telling me this is what a winner looks like,” you teased.

Ran laughed, “‘Course. Hanma looks a hell of a lot worse. And I didn’t even need a knife.”

“I guess I should be grateful I’m not his personal nurse,” you replied.

“Only mine,” Ran said, a hint of possessiveness bleeding through his playful attitude. Ran hated Hanma and knew what a sleaze he was. The thought of you taking care of Hanma made his skin crawl.

“Well you’re gonna need to find another nurse because I’m retiring after this,” you stated, finishing up the last suture.

“I’ve heard that before,” Ran smirked.

“Yeah and you’re not a very good listener,” you grumbled, “Alright, I’m done. Thanks for letting me… you know.”

Ran laughed at your shyness. “Believe me, it was my pleasure.”

“Just gotta clean up your knuckles and you’ll be good to go,” you replied, eager to get him out without incident. Ran hopped back up on the counter, watching you with amusement. Ran, you always felt, was like a cat - poised to strike at any moment.

You stepped back between Ran’s legs, picking up one of his hands. They were solid and warm in yours. You gingerly wiped off the blood and applied an antiseptic before repeating the process on the over hand. You lingered with his hand in yours for a beat too long, which didn’t go unnoticed by Ran.

“What happened to kissing ‘em to make it better,” Ran smirked down at you, incisors catching the light.

“Ran,” you sighed, exasperated, “I can’t it’s- it’s too much.”

You tried to step away, but Ran locked you with his legs. “Come on baby. Why do you fight it so much?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied.

Ran scoffed, “Please, y/n, I know you. You don’t want me to leave.”

“And what if I do,” you jutted out your chin defiantly.

“Hmm, then you won’t get to do all the things you’ve been thinking about. Touching me, kissing me. Bet you’ve been thinking ‘bout it,” Ran purred. You gulped, his words and proximity to you making you dizzy.

“You’re wrong,” you squeaked out. You didn’t even believe it yourself.

“Be a big girl and tell me to leave then,” Ran challenged, “Say it and I’ll go. You’ll never see me again.” It was weird, you’ve heard some version of that a millions times, but never believed it. But there was something about how he was looking at you and the way he spoke that made you feel like he meant it. The thought of really, truly never seeing Ran again brought tears to your eyes.

“I don’t want you to go,” you admitted, tears spilling down your cheeks. You leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around you.

“I know baby, I know,” he cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” He pulled back to look at you, taking your face in his hands. His thumbs wiped away your tears, before pressing kisses to your cheeks.

“Need you Ran, need you safe I-I can’t worry about you like that. It kills me,” you admitted.

“I’ve been so terrible, huh? Coming here in the middle of the night. Making you worry about me. I don’t deserve you. ‘M gonna make it up to you. I’m gonna make my favorite girl happy,” Ran replied, peppering kisses on your face. You didn’t know if you believed it; you doubted anything could get Ran to quit fighting. But in that moment you didn't care. You wanted Ran, flaws and all.

“I love you Ran, I love you so much,” you said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I love you more baby,” Ran purred, “‘N I’m gonna prove it to you.” His lips found yours, instantly pulling you into a deep, hungry kiss. You swore nothing on this Earth felt like kissing him. You didn’t even mind the metallic taste of blood from the cut on his lip. You just wanted more and more of him.

Ran pulled away slightly, smiling as he used his thumb to swipe a bit of blood off your lip before going back in for more. Ran kissed you like he wanted to consume you and you savored the feeling of being desired so deeply. He stood up, towering over you but refusing to let your lips disconnect. You stumbled over each other as you made your way to your bedroom. The only time your lips disconnected was to pull off your shirt.

You fell to the bed, Ran standing over you as he pulled his pants off. “Wanna taste you.”

“Ran you can’t lay on your stomach, it’ll mess up your stitches,” you replied.

He smirked, lying down on his back next to you, “Sit on my face then.” Ran didn’t wait for you to protest, hooking his long fingers into your underwear and slipping them down your legs. Never one to be able to say no to Ran, you crawled on top of him.

“Just let me know if it’s too much,” you said as he wrapped his arms around your thighs. He doesn’t bother responding, opting to dive in. He licked up your slit, collecting arousal on his tongue. Ran ate you out like a starved man, lips and tongue seemingly everywhere. Anytime you tried to lift off slightly, his grip pulled you back down. He buried his face in your pussy, sucking on your clit.

“Fu- Ran,” you moaned. You rocked your hips slightly against his face, which Ran delighted in. You knew you should be gentler, but at that moment all you could think about was the feeling of his tongue in you. And Ran certainly was not complaining. You tried to hold out as long as possible, but you were no match for him. You slurred out his name, drunk on the pleasure he gave you. You could feel his lips curl into a smile as you came on his tongue.

You rolled off carefully, greeted by slick-face Ran. He had a hungry gleam in his eyes. “Taste so fucking good baby.” He pulled you in for a kiss, allowing you to taste yourself on him. Your hand slid down his body, feeling how hard he was through his boxers. Ran groaned at your light touch. “Gonna let me fuck you or are you gonna make me cum in these fucking boxers?” You blushed at Ran’s crude words, which only made him laugh.

“Fuck me Ran, wanna make you feel good,” you replied, helping him out of his boxers.

“God, can’t wait to be back in this pussy,” Ran went on as he slides between your thighs, “Nothing feels fucking better.” He drags the head of his cock through your dripping arousal, tapping it a little on your clit. You squirmed, feeling the aching desire for him grow.

“Need you,” you whimpered.

“You got me, baby,” Ran replied, obliging you by slipping his cock into you. You drew in a breath, your body forgetting how big he is. “Shit baby, squeezing me so good.” A low groan escaped his lips as he bottomed out. Ran laced his fingers through yours, before picking up the pace.

“S’good Ran,” you moaned.

“You sound so pretty all fucked out on my cock baby,” Ran replied, “Fuck I missed you so much.”

“Missed you - ngh - more.”

Ran lifted your hand, pressing a quick kiss to it. “Never gonna let you go again. Shit. Need to fuck you forever. You’re mine y/n- fuck - all mine. I’m gonna be a good man, promise. I love you so much,” Ran babbled, his voice strained with pleasure.

Deep down you knew he was all talk, but you didn’t care. In that moment you knew it was true for you. You didn’t want anyone else, you couldn’t love anyone else. Even with the danger, the fighting, the fear, you couldn’t give him up. You were his forever.

“‘M your’s Ran. Love you,” you replied. Ran smiled, your words and your pussy making it hard for him to speak. Desperate to see you cum again, he began rubbing circles over your clit. “Fuck, Ran!”

Watching you come undone beneath him pushed him over the edge. “Shit y/n,” he groaned, releasing himself inside. The warmth filled your lower stomach, giving you the most pleasurable sense of fullness. Ran stayed in you as you both caught your breath, but eventually rolled off. “I mean it baby, I’m gonna be a good man for you,” Ran said, planting a kiss on your forehead.

You shook your head, “You can fight everything except your own nature, Ran. I’ve tried to escape you, but I can’t. I don’t want to. I love you, faults and all.”

“I was hoping you’d say that… because I think I popped a stitch.” You looked down and he had, indeed, popped a stitch in his stomach. You let out a heavy sigh.

“What am I gonna do with you?”

Ran smiled, “Love me, faults and all.”

#ran haitani smut #ran haitani imagine #ran haitani x y/n #my writing #ran haitani x reader #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers fanfiction

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sadinasaphrite · 7 months

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Oh no here's more fic. I like to think Tav talking Yurgir to death made Astarion a little weak in the knees, so here's a 1500 words of Astarion realizing he's catching actual feelings.

Read on AO3!

* * * * *

After all these years, Astarion could hardly believe he was so close. Just one murder, and he’d have his answers. Raphael would tell him the secrets engraved upon his back, secrets kept from him ever since that wretched night Cazador held him down and carved runes into his flesh. He was so close, he could taste it. The devil they were to kill stood before them, giving a fucking monologue of all things, and Astarion burned with the desire, the need to sink his blades into the devil’s heart. Nothing would stand in his way.

And yet, Astarion couldn’t help but feel Tav did not appreciate the urgency of the situation.

The bard was just… just standing there, chit-chatting about what Raphael smelled like or something, when they should be gutting this bastard!

“What are you doing?” Astarion interrupted with a hiss. “The devil told us to kill this thing, so let’s stop chatting and kill it!”

Astarion reached for his blades and Tav subtly waved a hand. Nothing more than a flick of two fingers, but enough to signal Astarion to hold. Astarion stopped.

Dammit. Dammit! If Astarion had any sense, he’d ignore Tav, or use the conversation as an opportunity for a distraction. If he could slip into the shadows and climb up to where Yurgir stood, lording over them and prattling on about his contract or some nonsense… but no. The devil and his followers had already spotted them, and only a supreme distraction would allow Astarion to slip out of sight.

What in the nine hells, now the bastard was singing.

“Spill all the blood sworn to the night,” the devil sang in a gravelly voice, “Silence all prayers; smother each rite. Wander Shar’s Halls hungry to slay, leave no Justiciar alive to obey…”

What was Tav playing at? Tav knew how important this was to him! Why was this conversation even happening? Once they’d confirmed the devil was the target, their merry little band should have started right on the murder, not… not whatever the hells was happening now!

Astarion should act. While Yurgir was distracted by a fucking song, he should raise his crossbow, fire a bolt right through his eye… but he didn’t. Astarion didn’t reach for his weapons.

All because Tav signaled for him to wait.

Dammit.

He shouldn’t give a shit about Tav. Tav meant nothing to him, Astarion firmly told himself. The bard was just a means to an end, a fool to be seduced and tricked into protecting Astarion until he had no further need of protection. He didn’t care about Tav. He didn’t care about anyone. And he certainly wasn’t influenced by those late night talks, gentle words of compassion and understanding, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, a playful, teasing smile thrown his way, or the idiotic, blind trust to submit to his fangs…

Astarion held, awaiting Tav’s signal.

“Leave none to hear it, then be set free. This song is your oath, swear, swear it to me.”

The fucking devil was still singing.

“So he’s the one who slaughtered the Justiciars,” Astarion snapped when the wretched song ended at last. “Can we kill him now? Because if he doesn’t die, then Raphael won’t tell me a damn thing about my scars.”

Tav didn’t respond, didn’t even look his way, but instead focused on Yurgir with a sharp, piercing look. Astarion froze. Something had shifted in Tav’s gaze during the last line of the song. He’d never seen Tav’s eyes like that. This wasn’t a warrior gauging their odds, or a tactician analyzing a battlefield. Tav looked At Yurgir like a predator ready to strike, a wolf waiting for the perfect opportunity to rip the throat out of a hare.

“Quite bloodthirsty, as lyrics go,” Tav said, a little too casually. “Have you considered some instrumental accompaniment?”

“I don’t want to make it pretty, I want to silence it!” Yurgir roared. The stench of sulfur flared through the room, and the small infernal army shifted eagerly in response. Battle was upon them. “Enough prattle. The lyrics are clear. All who hear the song must die. Time to die.”

Yurgir aimed his crossbow right at Tav’s heart. Something twisted uncomfortably in Astarion’s gut and his fingers twitched toward his blades.

Tav didn’t even blink.

“Raphael’s a sly lyricist. He tricked you. Your followers heard your song and still live.”

Astarion froze. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the song, focusing on how to end Yurgir as quickly as possible, but…

Yurgir looked as taken aback as Astarion felt.

“The merregons?” He asked. “They barely have a thought to share among themselves… but they do have ears.”

Hellfire flared behind the devil’s eyes, and he turned to the hellish soldiers around them.

“Kill yourselves. Back to the hells with you!” he roared. Without hesitation, the merregons all around them obeyed, axes swinging all around them with the wet sound of blades into flesh. The army all around them shrank from a dozen devils, to just one devil and his pet.

The barest hint of a smirk pulled at Tav’s lips.

Astarion’s heart hadn’t beat in two centuries, but something in his chest fluttered.

“I still hear it!” Yurgir seized his head with one hand and shook violently. “Seems your theory is wrong!”

“You’re not finished yet,” Tav said, eyes never leaving Yurgir. “The displacer can hear you, can’t she?”

The bard was doing well to hide the smirk threatening to come out, but there was something else in Tav’s eyes. Confidence. Hunger. Even with the devil looming over them, Astarion couldn’t tear his eyes away from Tav.

“Kill her.”

Astarion’s breath caught in his chest.

“Kill Nessa?” Yurgir hesitated, uncertain. The devil locked eyes with the bard. Tav’s gaze never wavered.

Slowly, Yurgir raised his crossbow, pointing it to the displacer beast lounging under the torchlight. “Stay very still, my beauty.”

The crossbow bolt pierced the beast’s heart and she collapsed, dead before she hit the floor. Tav’s eyes gleamed in victory, and Astarion had the wild, intrusive thought that he wanted to see that hungry, vicious gleam in Tav’s eyes a thousand times over. Standing side by side, interrogating information out of someone previously a threat, but now cowered under their combined might. He and Tav, working together, making sure no one would ever pose a danger to either of them ever again.

“I still hear it!” The devil roared.

“My dear hunter, isn’t it obvious?” Tav’s voice was sickly sweet, dripping from the bard’s lips like poisoned honey. The sound rolled down Astarion’s spine with a shiver. “You must kill yourself. Then you’ll be free.”

No. Surely not. There wasn’t a chance in the nine hells this would work. Astarion looked back at Yurgir, and was shocked to find the devil in a look of deep contemplation. Yurgir drew a sword from the scabbard on his back.

“If you’re wrong about this, I’ll claw my way out of Avernus and eat you alive, contract be damned!” Yurgir snarled. He placed the tip of the sword against his chest.

Tav smirked.

Astarion’s knees went weak.

“Nicely played, Raphael. Bastard.” Yurgir plunged the blade into his own heart, vanishing in an explosion of hellfire.

The room around them fell silent, filled only with the crackle of fire from the braziers.

Beside him, the other companions let out a sigh of relief, along with some laughter as the tension vanished from the air. Tav shot Astarion a smile and clapped him on the shoulder. This smile was closer to what Astarion was used to seeing, wide and open and honest, but there was still something in Tav’s eyes, a gleam of a successful hunt, the adrenaline still pumping through the bard’s veins.

“There you go. One devil, killed. Raphael should be happy.”

For the first time in a very long time, Astarion was speechless.

This was a side of Tav he never knew existed. Cunning. Manipulative. Even a touch sadistic and cruel. And Tav did all of it for him. All to help give Astarion what he wanted, to help him with Raphael’s deal.

As Astarion watched Tav leave the chamber, laughing with the others, he felt something akin to heat flush his cold body. Not desire. Certainly not lust. But… something. Something something more. Something dangerous. A hunger for Tav that had nothing to do with his vampiric thirst.

Astarion knew something within him had changed. He could no longer fool himself into thinking Tav was just another pawn or victim. Which only meant Tav was something else.

He let out a cold breath and ran a hand through his curls, then hurried to follow the others.

Shit.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #Astarion #Astarion/Tav #bg3 fic #My drabbles

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morally-grey-girlbosses · 7 months

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Ianthe Tridentarius Propaganda Post

shes tall pale and has no ass. she has the ability to manipulate her fat distribution so she chooses to look like a wet cat. everybody forgets about her because her sister is so hot, but while everyone else is fucking around and trying to figure out whose been killing people, shes been figuring out the secrets to an ancient necromantic theorem. it turns out her hot sister isnt actually a necromancer and ianthe has been doing the work of two necromancers her whole life. she regularly does cannibalism. she eats the soul of her cavalier, who nobody cares about, and becomes a saint of the king undying. her sister is deeply upset that she did not eat her. she gets her arm ripped off by one of the original states. she performs a lobotomy on one of the main protagonists because she asks her to. they have immensely homoerotic tension but its entirely one sided. she cries every night. her soup recipe amounts to burning onions on the bottom of a pot. the scene in which said main protagonists creates her an arm out of bones is the closest the series has to a sex scene. she meets the other main protagonist and says "but your fist is so large and my ass is so small". she stops god from being killed, which everybody hates. in the space between books, she has a terrible terrible no good friend ship with the main protagonist i mentioned before. i love it. they probably fucked and it involved chussy. they have friendship bracelets. she possesses the body of her dead cavalier who nobody cares about to gallavant around in. shes dangerously obsessed with her sister, who after not being eaten has been radicalised and now is a leader in an insurgent cell. she is the target of "then perish" during the epilogue. apparently in the next book she is going to do something horrible. i love her immensely. she has very few redeeming qualities. she is my ebst friend

listen. she ate a man's heart to become immortal. she is described as the shadow of her twin sister. she calls the protag a fruitcake. she will betray anyone and anything to get what she wants.

Wet Rat who sucks commits cannibalism for won her way through the lyctor olympics of the first books ate her cavalier to go to gods party swinger yatch. She has no fucking idea of what she's doing but she's slaying all day everyday, literally and figuratively. Made everyone believe that her twin sister was a super good necromancer while her sister has no powers by necromancing for her in secret. Idk she's just. She's just so.

The uglier of the supposed pair of the genius necromantic princess twins. Jk, she’s the only necromantic one she's just so good she seems like two geniuses combined, she flies under the radar, doesn't take part in gruesome lessons on powerful necromancy but just figures everything out by thinking alone, kills a dude she known her whole life the moment she learns it will give her more political and magic power, does a truly villainous monolouge when caught for that murder cause who cares about a male dying why are you so mad. Then later murders her much stronger beloved mentor the minute she's asked to gain even more power and prestige and from a princess of one planet becomes a saint and prince and military powerhouse of a divine empire, loyal only as long as her hotter twin sister is safe, truly an inspiration for all feminists everywhere

#propaganda #ianthe tridentarius #the locked tomb #tlt

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el-tostador · 1 month

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Voice of the Karen: Our coupons only expired yesterday! We should turn them in, and she refuses to accept them, then call the bloody manager! Oh and this dreary store could certainly use some Christmas music! Hold on, play this one! That would certainly liven this place up a bit!

Voice of the Hero: Uhh…are you sure that's a good idea? She looks like she'd absolutely hate that right now.

Voice of the Karen: Who cares if she hates it! My music taste is impeccable, plus we can always get her fired if she verbally assaults us!

Narrator: You're supposed to slay the princess not-

Voice of the Karen: Oh shut up! The PRINCESS is in our minivan, outside. With her friends. Waiting for us to get them some food before we get them to soccer practice.

Voice of the Hero: Wait wait wait!…when did we get a car…or-or kids! For that matter.

Voice of the Karen: Shut up. Now, play this song, I'm sure everyone will just LOVE this!

Narrator: sigh You play 'All I Want For Christmas' by 'Mariah Carey'. The entire cabi- I mean, store, becomes engulfed in festive cheer. The princess looks at you with wide, dead eyes.

The Retailer: "That horrible song. Again."

Voice of the Karen: HORRIBLE?!?! Why I oughta-

Voice of the Hero: Maybe we should turn that off, I don't like how she's staring at us.

Voice of the Karen: MANAGER! CALL THE MANAGER!

Slayer: "It's not a horrible song! It's art! Maybe if you opened up your cold dead heart, you'd be able to appreciate it!"

Narrator: The princess smiles sardonically, her voice strained.

The Retailer: "That song is the reason my heart is 'cold' and 'dead' in the first place."

Narrator: Her smiles drops, her eyes still hauntingly wide.

The Retailer: "Now turn it off. Or else."

Voice of the Karen: Report her to the manager! She's threatening violence against us!

Voice of the Hero: She didn't threaten us though? Maybe we should turn it off. She looks…angry.

Narrator: Maybe you should listen to that little voice. If she gets angry, she might destroy the world. My world.

Voice of the Karen: No! No! We're reporting her to the manager now! No hesitating!

Slayer (Karen): "Are you…threatening me..? GET ME YOUR MANAGER! NOW! YOU DON'T DESERVE THIS JOB! I should know, the customers always right!"

Narrator: Are you serious? Are we really doing this? sigh As you continue berate the princess and threaten to get her fired, she closes her eyes with a relaxed smile. Then…you hear the sound of something piercing through skin and muscle before you feel the cold sensation. As you look down, you find a phillips screwdriver embedded in your chest. The princess must've stabbed you while you were ranting. As you look back up at her, you notice the shift in her expression, her previously tired, dead eyes now look at you with an unrestrained fury. She isn't smiling. She throws the barcode scanner at your head with such strength and accuracy that you are knocked down.

You hear her jump over the counter and see her stand over you, she leans down to look at you with what is clearly a mocking smile.

The Retailer: "Oh, I'll take you to meet the manager, alright?"

Narrator: She takes a 'Live. Love. Laugh.' ceramic mug that you had bought from your bag, and then raises it high over your head. She brings it down at once, smashing it into your face, then again. And again, until it finally breaks, and the broken pieces stick themselves into your bruises and your eyes. The rest of the pieces clatter on the ground. You feel another sharp pain in the chest, right in your heart, as she rips the Phillips screwdriver out of the previous hole in your chest and drives it through your ribs and into your vital organ. Over and over again until you're sure your ribs are no less broken than your mug.

sigh

Everything goes dark, and you die.

CHAPTER III THE MANAGER

#I randomly typed this in a reddit comment section and figured I'd drop it here #slay the princess #Stp fanfic #Voice of the Karen #Brainrot is chipi chipi chipping away at my mentality #Stp fanroute

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cherrykamado · 15 days

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A PROMISE. — PART 03.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ* * * * * * * * * * * *

➤ ㅤㅤWARNINGS :ㅤaged up characters. fem reader (she/her prns). violence. major canonical characters death mentioned. injuries. mentions of blood. blood as food. reader has hair. choking. angst. wc= 2.8k.

➤ ㅤㅤNOTICE : ㅤㅤminors, ageless & empty blogs do not interact. your age must be in your bio or somewhere accessible. you must be 18 or over to interact with me or my works. reblogs and boosts are always welcome & very much appreciated!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ* * * * * * * * * * * *

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ PART 02 | PART 04 | MASTERLIST

“—if you change your mind. I’ll be waiting for you right here!”

The oniric voice screams from a distance with a tinge of excitement, as though she is already looking forward to something that has not been concreted. As if, regardless of all she held onto a certain hope that she may have gotten from God-knows-where.

The way home feels unreal. As he runs, he’s unable to think about anything else, but to repeat the moment over and over in his head. He tells himself over and over, as if needing a reminder, that she is a demon. She is cunning. She is trying to deceive you. Still, when there’s a heavy, bruised heart in his chest, beating rushedly, but not a word or a single reaction comes from the Sun Hashira — not even when home comes to view, not even when he’s safe now under the wisteria and she can’t reach him.

Maybe what he needs is rest. He walks towards the Sun Estate, but lingers at the outer side of the door, his fingers frozen onto the doorframe.

Can he really figure it out?

“There isn’t… such a cure.” He recalls, and the voices begin to group in his head, the proposal of the flower demon resounding in his ears as if she was there, repeating herself — Insisting like that’s the only viable option.

His legs give out on him, and with a loud thud sound he collapses on his knees, as if his strength had been depleted completely from him. Right now, tears begin to well in his eyes, as he grips the doorframe tighter.

“Why are you saying… Nezuko won’t be the s-same… anymore..?”

It’s neither long until sobs begin to sprout from his chest, silent apologies ripped from his heart and poured into the darkness of the non reciprocating silence — yet, apologies he knows won’t be accepted, because losing one’s will to fight would be an unforgivable act as a slayer.

Unforgivable as an older brother.

Tired shoulders ache from all the years of carrying the weight that he has never once minded during all these years while fighting, searching, running. Right now, he feels as though a boulder —probably one that weighs the same as the one he had slayed in his younger years, when he held onto the sword with uncertainty and softer hands— rests upon them. A misty wet curtain clouds his carmine eyes and diminish their glow; the knot in his throat can only tighten the more and more he tries not to break. Hard work, he tries to remind himself, is all I know. He had told himself this many, many times. This is all I know, he then tells himself. This is the only way.

Deep breath, and Tanjiro’s gaze is drawn to the sky — it has darkened. There are no stars, no moon, no light. Now he is finally alone and he doesn’t have to worry for any witnesses to see him finally let himself go. There’s no one to see how his body, his soul, give out after having had too much to bear; no one to notice how this is another Tanjiro — Far from his usual self, once radiant and warm as the sun that once shone up above with light, bathing with its warmth the faces of the hopeless.

Right now, he’s just a man that, once again, and no matter how much he will try to atone for it, had broken a promise — maybe the most important of them all.

‘Nezuko and I will always be together, no matter what!’

His mind takes him to the day he lost it almost all. Nezuko, she was still warm in the unforgiving puddle of blood, unconscious and at the verge of death. At that time, he did not hesitate to leave everything behind, regardless of how much his heart was ripping apart inside. In the same way, he did not hesitate to risk his life against the man who threatened to kill her (only because the promise of living again for Nezuko came under the condition of being a demon for the rest of her days). The same man who, then, sent the siblings to Urokodaki. Tanjiro did not hesitate to take the helping hand of Giyuu at that time, either. He did not hesitate to learn how to wield a sword, despite aching, bleeding hands that then scarred into rough and calloused palms. Despite constantly feeling as though he could not do this. He did not hesitate to wear the blood of demons on his blade, if it meant getting one step closer to curing his little sister.

To give her back what had unfairly been taken away from her.

Her sweet smile. Her humanity. Her right to walk under the sun, like anyone.

In other words, Tanjiro’s last sun was about to die away completely, for his life to turn into an eternal night.

And when there is no sun for the sun to replenish his light, the sun is likely to die. But this sun is struggling, he doesn’t want to give up just yet. This sun, as it breaks, as it gets clouded, thinks and thinks. There must be a way! Somehow… S-somehow… I have to find it..!

His eyes open and sting when they do. With pleading wet orbs, he seeks for an answer above, to a moonless night; to a starless sky. To a void. However, all response he gets is a faint thunder, and the touch of the rain upon his skin, raindrops mixing with his tears as they fall.

The skies are crying, too.

That very same night, she did never actually leave him alone. Stealthily, instead, she stayed quietly behind, concealing her natural demonic scent with flowers growing all over her body, knowing his sense of smell is particularly keen. That human made her intrigue grow. He’s watered her curiosity just right for it to flourish. Is it the despair, or the fact that he doesn’t give up, regardless of his actions being completely fruitless?

Curiosity is the intention all along to watch her beloved human hustle through the many demons under the command of Lord Muzan. Seeing him struggle is apparently a favorite of hers. And when he gets mad? She has to resist the urge to jump into the scene and tangle her limbs around him.

At that time, she saw it: just how his sword turned hesitant in his hold, even if to lower ranked demons the difference is not visible at all. She saw his sword waver at the most minuscule shake. The realization made her kanji-shaped pupils dilate so much, that the inscriptions in her irises almost turned unreadable. He was battling his own demons. A smile flourished on her lips, carmine petals, and bit the lower one to the point that her oniric iron nectar began to flow.

She almost felt a growing tenderness in her chest, because even at his helplessness, he still kept going. It was perhaps the selflessness he incarnated, that caused him to act this way even still. The purity in his heart was getting clouded by the despair. The growing fondness for the red-haired slayer acted in such a way, that it felt a surging bittersweetness course through each inch of her body. The sensation was, somehow, warm; reaching each corner of her immortal body, like an intense amorous ardour.

In the distance, she kissed her palm and blew it his way, in the direction where his disappearing silhouette no longer lingered. And so she left.

“I am honored eternally with your presence, Muzan-sama.”

Absolute devotion is what coats her voice as she kneels before her Lord Muzan, King of the Demons. An ecstatic explosion shows in her upon hearing her boss call her name.

“Did you find anything useful yet?” His hand places itself on her cheek, salmon-red orbs connecting with her own. Eyes that inspire just as much fear as they inspire respect. “Perhaps, the man with the hanafuda earrings?”

“I found him, my Lord.” She smiles up at him. Eagerly so, she tells him about her findings and her encounters with the red-haired slayer.

Nevertheless, there is only one aspect that concerns Kibutsuji Muzan:

“Did you eradicate him?”

“Not yet, my Lord.”

The change in his demeanor is noticeable, and the hand holding her face seems capable of exploding it like a watermelon if so he desired. Angering Kibutsuji Muzan, always leads to an instantaneous kill, for he doesn’t take kindly to disobedience, much less ineffectiveness.

“Why.” He demands to know.

“I have reasons not to yet, my Lord.” She retorts, immobile in Muzan’s grip.

“Firstly, the demon, Nezuko, is slowly losing every ounce of reason and could come in handy at the task of eliminating the Demon Slayers without us necessarily lifting a finger. Worst case scenario, they kill her.”

Muzan raises an eyebrow.

“The other reason I haven’t eradicated him yet is a single one… His resolve withers every day more and more. Nothing he’s doing seems to be helping his sister’s case, and he’s bordering on despair. If we convince him that we are the only solution, he’ll do it no matter what. My Lord, you could use his strength, at the same time we eliminate a big threat like the one the Sun Hashira is.”

The Boss of the Twelve Kizuki’s gaze lingers eerily, piercing through the younger female demon as if still unconvinced by her ideas.

“This way,” She proceeds, “I can experiment on her, so that one day you can walk under the sun, and live forever, just like you wish.”

Now silence invades the room. Tense, asphyxiating. She can’t make out Kibutsuji Muzan’s decision based on looks, given how deceiving looks can be, especially when it comes to him. Posing her case, with the utmost seriousness as she has done, is whatmost she can do.

“Normally, I would have killed you before you said two words.” He deadpans, but then his hand relaxes its grip, and travels to her hair, where he runs his fingers in a way that would have made Daki, oh, so jealous. “You have quite a valuable ability, [name]. I will let you do as you please.”

Her eyes light up at this, and a smile starts spreading over her lips.

“However.”

And just as it appeared, it quickly vanished.

“If you do not manage to find a cure, or convince the man with the hanafuda earrings… I will kill you.”

Just to prove, once again, that he is not a man of empty threats, his nails sink into her head, causing blood to sprout with blood, even if because of his cells’ influence, they will be cured almost instantaneously.

“I will not fail you, my Lord.” She bows her head slightly, closing her eyes as she pays her respects. However, once she opens them again, the room is once again empty.

Few are the moments in which Tanjiro can actually close his eyes. The sound of the shackles clanking constantly against each other bothers him not, to the point that, when he closes his eyes, he can no longer hear them — either that, or they’ve become a noise that he’s sadly accustomed to.

His mind takes him back to when times were rough, but his poverty seemed like the greener grass at the other side. He had his family, his siblings, his mother. He worked hard every day to bring a plate of food to his home, and although that required him to leave for days, go up and down the mountains while carrying tons and tons of weight, Tanjiro wouldn’t have minded going back to that place.

It certainly feels like yesterday, the moment in which his happiness had been ripped away from him. Yet, it was so long ago that those memories became blurrier and blurrier; the faces of his family faded, as so did their voices. Tanjiro was, at this point, unsure whether he was hearing their voices, or just making them up in his head.

He almost forgets how Nezuko’s voice sounded, too. How her eyes looked before the tragedy. What her smile looked like before having to use muzzle after muzzle.

Everyone he loved was going away.

He almost forgets about the promise he made to her so long ago… Once, he was able to fix anything, no matter how difficult,

No, now is not the time to waver. Tanjiro opens his eyes and turns to his now calmer sister. Calm means, at this point, that she’ll get weaker if she doesn’t eat. Regardless of whatever she has done, for him it is inadmissible to let her starve. After all, he’s still an older brother, and she’s his only sister on this Earth, right now. And as an older brother, he loves her, with all his heart. A love so pure that, despite all the harm that is doing to him, knows of no confines or limits.

As no one’s looking now, he opens his gear, slipping an arm out of his shirt. Inching closer to the cage, he softly calls for her. What lures her in is a small cut he has just made at the middle part of his forearm, not as much bruised as his wrist, or distal third is. Some of these cuts heal no more, or have left his arm so resented that he can’t bear the pain of her eating from there.

Regardless of what she has become, Nezuko Kamado holds whatever is last of her humanity for her older brother, Tanjiro. Enough for her not to hurt him as much, or at least willingly. To Tanjiro, her touch is somehow gentle. The way in which her teeth dig into his flesh is not as damaging. The way in which she drinks his blood, shows not to be voracious. He, no stranger to her pattern of behavior throughout these years, has faith that she still reserves some humanity left, at least for him.

‘How would things be, if you could actually have settled down and had your own family, Nezuko?’

He mumbles out the question as he looks down at her younger sibling. She, who was a great old sister to her younger siblings, so selfless and caring. Tanjiro pats her hair as softly as she, little by little, falls asleep with her mouth on his arm.

Tanjiro’s eyes next close, fueled by the weakness the anemia brings, after having lost quite a portion of his blood to his starving sister. He manages to take his arm away, but then his arm falls with a dry thud sound to his side as if dead, yet throbbing in pain at the cut.

‘You’re in so much pain, aren’t you?’

The voice is soft and soothing amidst the frail haze, honeyed and enveloping. Her words — the demon’s words — resonate again, asking a question so opportunely as if they knew exactly the answer. And his heart skips a painful beat at this. Yes, the pain is almost too much to bear, at this point. His arm throbs in pain as he tucks it back into the sleeve of his shirt. This is getting harder and harder. With one hand, he fumbles with the buttons, trying to do them up, first the shirt’s, and eventually the gear’s. I wish… but he stops himself, not daring to confess his soul what he wishes for the most.

‘You’ve fought so much, haven’t you?’

The tired hashira’s head rests against the iron, wisteria-enforced, dungeon bars, and his lids part just enough to let the light of the pale moon into those burgundy colored moons of his own, moons that peek from in between them. The eyes of a tired man, who continues to pour his mind, body and soul into seeking for a cure for the loss of humanity of his once humane sister — almost fruitlessly. Those eyes close eventually, outweighed by the weariness that feels like tons of iron crushing his body. He found himself in a dead end, pretending that he would be fine, and that he would be able to figure it out — like he always did. Yet all he could do, for now, was to palliate blows. So many they were, that at some point he had forgotten that there was possibly no way out of this.

At least, not alone.

If he could start it all again, maybe he could have found a way. Maybe, if he had stayed that day, now she would be looking at him with those tender, humane eyes of hers.

Why her, and not him? Every day, the same question drills into his mind, like a woodpecker pecking wood at the trunk of a tree. Yet, every day, there is still not an answer. With a beauty and a demeanor that would capture the heart of any man. A woman like Nezuko, so deserving of a happy ending. He would have given everything, even what he didn’t have, just so that she didn’t have to endure this, even the shadow that follows him when he walks.

She could have it all, if it meant seeing her again. Tears don’t well up in Tanjiro’s too tired eyes, but sadness sometimes needs them not. Because, even after enduring so many years, she hurts.

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slutforbuck · 1 year

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Longing - Part 3

P1 P2

By the time you made it back to the ranch, you had cried yourself to sleep. Tears stained Chavez’s black shirt, and his coat was wrapped around your shoulders. Dick gently pulled you from your safe space in Chavez’s arms while he dismounted. Silently, Chavez took you from Dick and carried you to your room. Your eyes opened as your tense body fell against the softness of the mattress, and the agony from the morning hit you again. Frantically your eyes searched the room for comfort and you choked back a sob. “Chavez..Please. Please tell me he isn’t gone. Please.” It felt as if Murphy himself was ripping Chavez’s heart out of his chest while watching the tears fall freely from your eyes, your body shaking from the sobs and heartache. He pulled you to him, holding you so tight that he may crush you. The two of you sat that way, clinging to each other like burrs on a saddle. When all your tears had been cried, you listened. Silence. Something you had always craved, but was now so unwelcome.

You stood surrounded by your boys, Alex, and Susan as your father was laid to rest. “For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God, in his wise providence, to take out of this world the soul of our deceased brother, we therefore commit his body to the ground. Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.” Susan led you to the wagon while Alex led the boys to JP Wilson. “You can stay with us for as long as you need to Y/n. I know how hard it will be to try to go home now.” You gave her a soft smile as Alex joined you, driving you towards home.

“Deputized?! Alex no! First of all I was his DAUGHTER! I should be there right along with them. Am I not allowed justice? And second, you’re going to let hot-headed Bonney go off with AUTHORITY?” “Y/n. You are a lady.” Alex’s voice grew stern as he send an almost disapproving look to you. “I know that you are more than capable of taking care of this and yourself, but this is not something you need to do. As for Billy, he has five other level headed young men to keep his straight. They’ll serve their eleven warrants, and it will all be over.”

For days you were a nervous wreck. There had been no word from or about the boys, and worry began gnawing at your thoughts. Your nail beds had become red and raw from anxiously picking at them. Mindlessly, you floated towards the barn searching for a distraction. Before you could reach it, Alex came riding up the road pulling the wagon to a stop next to you. “Any news, Alex?” Your voice was soft and quiet, but full of hope and worry awaiting any news of your boys. Alex sighed as the paper passed into your hands. “You may have been right about Billy.” He snapped the reins and headed to the house, leaving the dust swirling around you. “"Nine men lay dead or at death's door yesterday noon following a gunfight between Lincoln resident Henry Hill, forty-five, and what patrons have called a ‘kid’. A local miner has identified 'the Kid’ as one Henry McCarthy, also known as William H. Bonney, nineteen or twenty. In a flaming shootout 'the Kid', Billy, killed Mr. Hill then took on an onslaught of Hill's partisans bringing the damage to six verified slayings. Bonney is believed to be the captain of a deputized gang.” Murphy is going to kill them all.

chavez pov

There had to be a way out of the mess Billy had created for them, and Chavez only knew one way to find the answer. Snow crunched beneath his bare feet as he searched the ground, gathering what he needed. Darkness soon surrounded the Regulators, with only a soft light from the fire to illuminate the cup being passed around the circle. “We've come to a place where we are lost, no? When an Indian is lost, he must reach into the spirit world to find the way. On the Spirit Road, he'll be shown a sign. This is the way to the Spirit Road. We're lost right now. But I'll find us the way.” Steve rolled his eyes as the cup made its way to him, “Oh Christ, Chavez! That's all we need is some more of your red-ass Navajo mambojahambo. We're running out of time here, Chavez.” “Is that any good? Chavez, what is that?” Charley looked worried looking at the cup being passed around. A simple reply was given, “Peyote.”

The sun was rising over the mountains, the light slowly filtering through the dust and smoke surrounding Chavez on the ledge he was standing atop. Slowly he turned facing North. East. South. The land was red and the rivers ran with blood in every direction. There must be a way. Please Great Spirits, show me the way. Turning to the west, the blood vanished. A woman turned to greet him, her arms outstretched and her hair flowing in the soft breeze. He reached towards her, only to watch her be pulled onto a golden brown mare and riding off towards Old Mexico. West.

#young guns #young guns movie #young guns 1988 #young guns imagine #jose chavez y chavez #chavez #chavez x reader #billy the kid #dirty steve stephens #doc scurlock #john tunstall #dick brewer #charlie bowdre

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comfy-sofa · 1 year

Text

IM LOSING MY FUCKING M I N D

IM NOT OK AND NEITHER ARE YOU AFTER THIS EPISODE

Vashmeryl fans, y'all are getting FED TODAY GOOD FOR YALL

HIS FUCKING HAIR OUR BOY IS BACK AND SPIKIER THAN EVER

The whole fucking fight sequence mmhhhh DELICIOUS the whole entire time I was screaming BEAT HIS ASS BEAT HIS ASSSS DO IT FOT ROBERTO

Ok, the fact that Vash kinda knows how to use his abilities and condense into the fucking rubic cube is kinda dope

Also during the fight, DID VASH FUCKING BITE KNIVES???? IM FUCKING LOSING IT (peak sibling behavior)(edit: yes he fucking did dhvswrrvbn)

First off, the outfit change??? Like all his shit is black and the fucking BLACK WINGS YESS PLANT BOY SLAY

Also THE SPEED RELOADER???? DID HE HAVE THAT SHIT ENTIRE TIME???? At least he has it lmao

Fucking about time Wolfwood you fucking helped COTDAMN (also the run sequence with him stepping on the police officer mhmm good shit)

THE ANGEL ARM IM FUCKING CUMMING I LOVE ITS DESIGN

Knives KNIVES GET OUT THE FUCKING BEAM YOUR GETTING ROASTED LIKE A MARSHMALLOW (really out here giving me 'get out the fucking tank' vibes like)

Speaking of this scene, we finally get to see Vash fucking cry....I'm not ok

Oh my God, Vash just turned himself into a goddamm METEOR SIR ARE YOU OK???

Well RIP July and Mr. Police dude

Oooh two year time skip and my boy got his bouty back!

MILLY MILLY MILLY MILLY MILLY (also refreshing to the insurance company👍)

ERIKS AND LINA I CANT WAIT TO GET MY HEART RIPPED OUT

EARTH EARTH FUCKING WERE GETTING THE EARTH STORY FROM TRIMAX THANK FUCK (Also heyyy chronica)

Looks like season 2 is also confirmed! Dude, this was a journey and a half. I'm really glad that orange went the prequel route, and we got to see what led up to July's destruction. We actually get to see a glimpse of what the cast could've been like prior to the events of Trigun/TriMax.

Fuck I'm glad stampede was a thing in the first place, or I wouldn't have watched the anime or read the manga. Like fuck this is really a piece of media that sticks with you y'know? Like how the fuck am I gonna move on now? Like it's been a while since I thought of creating fanart or just rant on it because it's so fucking good. Like if I could ever create something like Trigun, something that sticks with people, like that would be a great accomplishment. Sure, there were some ups and downs (maybe I'll do like a legit review post, idk) but fuck I had a good time!

Now this post is getting long so I'm just gonna end it with that I'm glad I let orange cook and I can't wait for season 2

Peace and Love y'all ✌️

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #rhythm rants #like wow...#what the fuck am i gonna do on Saturdays now???#i mean i can also try and draw or write...idfk....#there is the dub...#yeah ill watch the dubbed version #alright that's it lmao

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aquagirl1978 · 2 years

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heya! i hope you’re doing well! I absolutely loved the hc of ikevamp Leonardo and Arthur getting frustrated with mc but reconciling after some hurt feelings and space but i was wondering if you could do it where the roles are reversed so mc is mad at them? and possibly add le comte & vlad to the mix of you feel comfortable writing them? ( i wanna make sure i’m not overstepping your guidelines) also i know your more invested ikemen prince which also slays ✨💖 lol so if you want you can write something more loosely similar for characters of your choosing like a small drabble or something if you desire to or feel up to it. Thank you sm! Have an amazing day! !! ❤️❤️🎀✨🌙💛

Hi @iheartgirlymcs111 - I'm so glad you loved those headcanons! Sorry this took me a while to get to (I'll blame summer vacation for going by so fast!). It took me some time to think of some scenarios, but I hope you like this. (And while my blog does tend to lean towards Prince, I do actively read Vamp - and gladly accept requests for Vamp!)

IKEMEN VAMPIRE HEADCANONS - MC REACTION TO BEING MAD AT SUITOR (ARTHUR, LEONARDO, COMTE, VLAD)

Arthur Conan Doyle

"Why do you always have to tease Isaac?" you asked pointedly, hands on your hips.

Arthur looked at you over his coffee mug, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Every day, you pick on Isaac."

"But he likes it!"

"No, Arthur, he doesn't. Don't you notice how quiet he gets? How he often leaves the room to get away from you?"

Arthur put down his mug. He got out of his chair and approached you - but you pushed him away.

"A hug and a kiss will not solve this." Arthur looked down at you, a frown marring his face. "Pouting won't help either."

Sighing, you walked out of the kitchen.

"Where are going?" Arthur called out, following you.

"To my room. Please don't follow me." Arthur sighed, but obeyed your wishes, returning to his mug of coffee.

Alone in your room, you sat with your thoughts, wondering what you could do about this situation. Sighing, you fell on your plush bed, closing your eyes, hoping sleep would soon come and ease your thoughts.

You weren't sure how long you were napping, but a persistent knock at your door woke you.

Before you could answer it, Arthur opened the door a crack, popping his head inside. Crossing your arms, protecting your heart, you returned to your bed.

"Listen, luv," Arthur said softly. "I shouldn't have dismissed you like that." Your ears perked up at his words; you tilted your face towards his, curious to hear what else he had to say. He reached out for your hand, which you tentatively gave, the walls in your heart gently crumbling.

"I thought about what you said.... And as much as I hate to admit, you are right. I can be..." His big blue eyes searched yours, hoping he hadn't ruined what you had, that he could salvage things. "I can be better."

Your heart filled with warmth hearing his words. You always knew Arthur was a good man. Now he just had to figure that out, but you would always be there, happy to help him figure that out.

Leonardo da Vinci

"Leonardo, ahh.... Please don't stop."

Leonardo's teeth grazed your delicate skin, his mouth fastened to your slender neck. In the heat of the moment, he moaned against your skin, your fingers carding through his dark locks as his fangs descended.

As if doused with a bucket of ice water, Leonardo rolled off you immediately.

Disappointed, you wrapped yourself in a sheet, your body still breathless.

"You don't need to stop every time..."

Leonardo shook his head. "No, cara mia. I have to."

It broke your heart to see your love so conflicted - you were aware that the closer the bond with a vampire, the higher their desire, their need to drink from their lover. You also knew his deep desire to never pass this curse onto you - he never wanted you to lose your humanity.

But Leonardo wasn't the only conflicted one - you once had wanted to be turned. But that option was taken from you, ripped from you. Without consultation or debate. Most times, this did not bother you. But sometimes, like tonight, it did.

You climbed out of the bed; collecting your clothes, you began to get dressed - which was no small feat considering the state Leonardo kept his room in.

"Where are you going?" His amber eyes wavered with sadness as he reached out to you.

"I think it's best if I leave for a while." You turned and walked out of his room, making your way to the kitchen.

Once in the familiar surroundings of the kitchen, you made yourself a cup of tea. As you drank the warm tea, your mind filled with sweet memories of Leonardo.

Deep down, you knew he had your best interests at heart - even if sometimes, the thought of losing him sooner than later made you dream of eternal life.

By the time you were done with your beverage, your heart told you to return to your love. Grabbing a bottle of Rogue from the cabinet, as well as a clean glass, you made your way back to Leonardo's room.

Opening the door, you heard the soft sounds of a sleeping Leonardo. Your heart smiling, you made your way to the bed.

"Cara mia?" His voice filled with sleep, he reached out for you; this time you let him in, allowing him to pull you close. He took the glass from your hand, carefully filling it with the life-sustaining substance.

He drank quickly, for now it was time for you two to properly make up after your fight.

le Comte de Saint Germain

"Ma cherie, your dress for tonight is laid out on your bed."

"My dress? For tonight?"

"Oh," your lover said, his voice innocent and sweet. "I must have forgot to tell you. We were invited to a ball this evening..."

"Another ball..." you muttered under your breath.

Immediately picking up on your change, le Comte tilted your chin towards him with his thumb. "What's wrong, ma cherie?"

Sighing, you debated how to tell him how you felt - how do you say to this wonderfully kind, generous to a fault, sweet, loving man that you feel suffocated?

"Comte," you said, the pressure in your heart building. "When do I get a night with just my boyfriend? No balls. No dancing. No fancy gowns."

"I thought you liked this..."

"I do... but it's a lot. I'm feeling...."

"Do you not like the dresses? We can get you some new gowns."

Closing your eyes, you hoped your heart wouldn't beat right out from your chest. "Comte, it's not just the dresses. I want a boyfriend. Now a father parading me around to all the nobles."

Comte looked crestfallen at your words. "Is that how you see me?"

"I'm not feeling well, I'm going to my room." You stood up and walked to your room, leaving the love of your life lost and confused.

Walking into your room, you found the ball gown spread on your bed; the gown was shades of golden honey, reminiscent of your love's eyes, the perfect shade for an autumn ball.

Flopping on the bed, careful not to disturb the gown, you wondered if you had overreacted perhaps. Comte was different from you, this was true. There would always be a part of him you didn't fully understand due to those intrinsic differences.

For some unexplained reason, you found your fingers dancing along the fabric of the gown, the many layers of gold reminding you of your love.

As if compelled to do so, you found yourself changing into the golden gown. You quickly pinned your hair up and put on your favorite necklace. As ready as you could be, you ran off in search of le Comte.

You found him on the balcony, the scent of cigarillos still fresh in the air. At the sound of your footsteps, he turned, his eyes widening when he saw you dressed.

"I thought you weren't feeling well."

"I changed my mind." You looked around nervously, glad that he was out here alone. "If it isn't too late..."

"It's never too late, ma cherie." Comte approached you, a bright smile spread on his lips as he swept you into his arms in a tight embrace. "But I don't think I can share you tonight. Let's stay home tonight, we can dance here."

Vlad

As soon as you saw him headed towards the withering bud, you ran, stopping in between Vlad and the rose.

"Vlad! You cannot keep plucking any and every bloom you think is decaying."

"And why not?" he asked gently. He reached his hand out, his fingers stroking the browned petals. "This one is sick, it will ruin the rest of the bush."

"It still has life in it." You pulled his hand away, your eyes glaring daggers at his. "If you keep this up, you will be left with a garden of nothing. It will all be gone. Do you want that?"

"No. But if I leave the diseased one...."

You threw your hands up in frustration. "I cannot listen to this. I'm going back to the mansion."

The heavens chose that moment to open up and unleash a downpour of rain; Vlad looked at you sadly as you turned and walked away, making no movement to try and stop you.

During the carriage ride home, you stared out the window at the pouring rain as you wiped the tears from your face.

Before you wanted it to, the carriage arrived at the mansion, your tears still wet on your face. After thanking the driver, you stepped out and saw Vlad waiting by the door.

You scrubbed your cheek with the heel of your hand and lifted your face as you headed towards the pureblood.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice taking on the similar chill of the rain around you.

Vlad flinched at your words. "I didn't pluck the bloom," he said quietly. Sighing, his eyes met yours. "I don't want an empty garden." He approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his snow-white head against your shoulder.

It wasn't much, but it was a start. You loved this man; nothing was going to change that. Vlad had so much good in him, you knew you could help him right his ways. Step by step.

#ikemen series #ikemen vampire #ikevamp #arthur conan doyle #ikevamp arthur #leonardo da vinci #ikevamp leonardo #comte de saint germain #ikevamp comte #ikevamp vlad #vlad #ikemen headcanons #otome #otome games

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myszumizu · 2 years

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Luxiem hearing Streamer!Reader sing for the first time. They do a Karaoke Stream and just sing their heart out, especially to high vocal songs and slays them. If possible, a follow up to your “Luxiem Crushing” post? Please and thank you <3

i had to ask my choir friend which songs were considered high vocal LMAO. pls enjoy <33

gn!reader, fluff

LUXIEM HEARING STREAMER!READER SING FOR THE FIRST TIME

MYSTA

. no because how tf is your voice so heavenly

. he’s wondering to himself

. you and mysta were having a singing / karaoke collab and you had decided to sing mafumafu’s nighty night

. now, fox boy has never heard you sing before so he was in for a pleasant surprise

. he was hyping you up as you began singing

. AND WHEN YOU HIT THE CHORUS???

. the world exploded

. mysta would stay completely silent until you finally finished your performance

. “mysta, are you there? was my singing that bad :( (NO IT WASNT)”

. after a few moments, mysta replied, “[name], you are so good. SO FUCKING GOOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!!”

. considering that he already had feelings for you, after hearing you sing, boy fell TWICE as hard

. if he streams the next day, he’ll gush to chat about your singing skills

. SLAYYY

VOX

. when you announced that you would be having a karaoke stream, vox was super excited

. this would be the first time he would be hearing you sing and he can’t wait

. tbh, vox wasn’t expecting THAT much from you since it’s your first time singing

. but when you chose to sing chandelier by sia?????

. holy shit, he knows he’s fucked

. literally ASCENDS when he hears you sing

. which is kinda weird since yk, he’s a fucking demon and all

. spams the chat with “I HAVE ASCENDED”

. he is literally simping for your voice behind cameras

. like, vox is banging the table and running mini laps around his room as he blasts your singing

. on twitter : “guys, i’m gonna fucking cum from [name]’s voice. pls.”

. listens to clips of you singing and loops for hours on end

. he ain’t ever getting tired of your voice

. DOUBLE SLAY!!!!

LUCA

. he’s freaking ecstatic when he hears that you would be singing

. tweets an hour early saying that he is extremely hyped up for you first ever singing stream

. the first song you would be singing was bad romance

. AND OMFG THE CHAT AND LUCA WENT FERAL

. you were able to so effortlessly hit all the high notes and you sounded like an angel

. luca would unexpectedly join you

. the first thing you hear after your first song end is a VERY long “POOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!”

. rip your ears

. luca would start to fanboy over you RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU

. “omg how you are so good at singing???? your voice is *chef’s kiss*. JSHDJDHH”

. would stay with you for the rest of the stream

. does not hesitate to say yes when you asked him for a duet

. you chose to sing rewrite the stars, another (considered) hard song for a ‘beginner’

. y’all freaking killed it and now, luca is an even bigger simp you

. 👍🏻👍🏻

IKE

. look, he doesn’t display his simping tendencies often, or at all i should say

. but when he first hears you sing fucking BAD ROMANCE? YOUR VOCALS?????

. nah, mans almost folded

. let me tell you, he was fucking nose bleeding behind stream

. he would bop his head so freaking hard as he listens to you sing

. almost threw his keyboard when you hit the high note

. ike wanted to spam your chat but he’s gotta keep up that “i don’t simp” act cus yk

. joins call after you finish singing and all he says is “your voice is good” before he leaves

. okay but later that day, he texts you and starts to fawn over your amazing singing skills

. might even ask for a karaoke collab

. he listens to your stream every night before bed

. claims it helps him fall asleep

. definitely sings along as well

. IDK BUT I FEEL LIKE HE WOUKD RECORD HIMSELF SINGING THAT PUT BOTH YOUR VOICES TOGETHER AND SEE IF IT SOUNDS GOOD

. spoiler, it does

. ike eveland is a huge simp for you

SHU

. he most likely watched your karaoke stream WHILE ON STREAM HIMSELF

. randomly joins and the moment he does, you chose to sing a classic, heart attack by the queen demi lovato

. shu, shu’s chat and your chat go insane

. on stream, shu is silently cheering you

. “oh god. they definitely got this. i bet you guys you and i are both gonna be blown away.”

. and he was right

. when you sang the chorus (I THINK I ‘D HAVE A HEART ATTACK!!!!!), shu is completely stunned

. I MEAN YOUR VOICE?? WHAT??

. shu pauses your stream for a moment to process everything

. “[name] is amazing.”

. sends a mini superchat saying “[name], i love your voice. pls sing more thank u.”

. “thank you shu yamino <33”

. smiles very widely as he replays your karaoke stream after ending his own stream

. yes he is downbad

. very downbad

. YOU GO‼️‼️

#myszumizu posted 💦#nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #luckxiem #luxiem #x reader #luxiem x reader

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