#I’m looking at you Leandro | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tommysversion · 6 months

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A Breath Of Fresh Air ( Veracruz x AFAB!F!Reader )

Summary: you get caught outside after curfew. Luckily for you, Veracruz is open to … negotiations. (This is basically a transcription of a dream I had. Whoops.)

CWs: DUBCON / Overstimulation / Double Penetration / Impact Play (Slapping & Spanking) / Degradation / Rough sex / Anal play / Unsafe PIV Sex / Oral Sex (M!Recieving) / Squirting / Extremely dirty talk / Transactional sex / Bordering on Dead Dove.

Notes: please read the warnings and consume content at your own risk & responsibility. Credit for giving Veracruz his first name goes to @ezras--moon & @ariundercovers 🩷

You just wanted some fresh air. A breather from the stuffy house you’d been confined to with the rest of your group. Generally, when a militia takes over town, you stay out of their way.

You’ve never been the smartest; rounding the corner of the alleyway, you almost walk right into him. Not just any asshole with a gun, but the leader of the unit. Fuck.

Leandro Veracruz isn’t a patient man, not really. He saves all limited patience for his job, to keep control over his unit and appear to be the cold, calculated leader that he is. You don’t rise to the rank he holds at the age he is, without being a little ruthless.

You’ve heard of his reputation. The way he doesn’t seem to care about cutting down anyone who gets in his way. You’re certain there has to be some sort of driving motive behind how he is; it’s rare for people to be the way he is without motive, but still.

“You’re out after curfew.”

You know that he is, undeniably, a bad guy, but nonetheless, that heavily accented, dark tone sends a shiver down your spine for all the wrong reasons. Maybe it’s that stupid, primal reaction that makes you choose honesty, rather than trying to craft a feasible lie.

“I know. I’m sorry, I just. I really needed some air.” As soon as the words are out of your mouth, you realise how stupid you sound. It only serves to sink in further when he raises an eyebrow at you.

“You needed some air? After curfew? Did you consider maybe opening a window?” He’s tired; it’s late, and one of his people has come down with the flu, so he’s covering his patrol instead of sleeping. It’s made him a little more short tempered than usual. “You know you could be shot for this, yes?”

You visibly shrink in on yourself, and Leo almost feels bad. Almost. He knows what it’s like to be cooped up in a small space, can’t really blame you for wanting to get out, but the rules are the rules, and he has a reputation to protect.

“Are you going to shoot me?” You ask finally.

He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. “If I was going to shoot you, pajarito, I would have done so by now. I am going to have to arrest you, though.”

You shiver again, thinking of the overcrowded cells in the local station, the lawlessness that goes on in there. You could be assaulted, stabbed, beaten, and nobody would blink an eye. Absolutely not. Which leaves…

“Maybe we can work out some sort of compromise?” The way you say the last word, the way you pause before you deliver it in a somewhat suggestive tone, makes it entirely clear to him what you mean.

Leandro has absolutely no trouble getting women; he knows he’s attractive, knows the right things to say and do. He’s not above paying for company, either. It’s been a while, though, given the latest operation, and frankly? You offering as a bribe is entertaining him… entertaining him and intriguing him.

He looks you up and down, then nods.

“I’m sure we could come up with some sort of deal, yes.” A lazy smirk crosses his face as his hand moves to almost caress the cuffs at his belt. “Do I need to cuff you, or are you going to follow me quietly?”

It doesn’t escape your notice that he’s armed; a handgun, a rifle, and a wicked looking knife sheathed in his belt.

“No, I’ll be good.”

“Good answer.” He nods approvingly, beckons you forward. He leads you through the alleyway, through a back gate into the little house he’s taken over as base; his people are inside, but his command centre outside is set up in a tent. It’s a durable, triple canvas layer thing built to withstand pretty much any weather.

Lit by a lantern swinging from the roof, it’s a practical, spartan, and yet somehow still cosy place. It doesn’t need to be furnished or fancy; he’s got a table, a gun locker, a duffle bag, and his bed in there. That’s all he needs.

The bed is a foam travel mattress laid out on stacked and nailed together pallets. No point carting a proper bed around on deployment. It’s not the most comfortable, but it’ll do. It serves his purpose just fine, and given the circumstances, you aren’t about to complain.

You’ve seen him shoot people in the centre of town before. Seen the way his people handle things. The fact that he’s even taking this rather than just outright punishing you for breaking the law is a good sign… you think.

He puts both the handgun and the rifle in the gun locker, then turns back to you.

“Strip.” He moves past you to flop down onto the bed, folding his arms behind his head and watching you lazily. For a moment, you consider running. You’d have a head start. But then he’d probably find you, and definitely shoot you. Besides, this was your idea.

You take your time removing each layer, trying to at least make it look somewhat enticing rather than awkward. You never quite know how people in movies manage to make stripping down for sex look enticing. Maybe you’re just clumsy.

When you’re entirely bare to his gaze, he beckons you over.

“Come here, tímida, I’m not going to hurt you… much.” A wicked grin crosses his stupidly handsome face as you nervously do as you’re told, letting him pull you onto his lap. A tiny squeak leaves you when you feel how hard he is against your core, the rough material of his cargo pants brushing against your sensitive skin.

Fuck. You’re terrified of him, yes, but you want him, you realise. Badly.

“Much?” You raise an eyebrow at him, “I thought the deal was you don’t hurt me at all.”

There’s that wicked grin again, sinfully smug this time.

“I won’t do anything you don’t beg me for.” His fingers grip your hips roughly, making you acutely aware of how much bigger than you he is. That does absolutely nothing to curb the desire that’s starting to build in you; this was supposed to be a transaction, a way to get yourself out of trouble, but you’re starting to get the feeling that you’re going to enjoy this far more than you first expected.

“Is that right?” You manage a little smirk, lips parting in an embarrassingly needy moan when he deliberately grinds you down against the length of his cock. The very, very obvious length of him. Fuck.

His fingers wander inwards, splay across your thighs, thumbs rubbing across your skin.

“Careful…” he warns, but his voice is softer than he intended. Still, it does the trick, and you nod, pliable and submissive to his touch once more.

“That’s better…” He nods approvingly, keeps one hand holding you firmly in place while the other wanders almost lazily between your thighs, finding your swollen, aching clit and rubbing firmly. It’s not the touch of someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing, and briefly, a pang of envy strikes you as you think of how many other countless, nameless women have been turned to pliant mush under his touch.

“I’ll make it good for you,” he almost purrs it as he leans up so you’re chest to chest, “though it seems like you’re more than willing as it is…”

His fingers lazily drag through your slick, teasing your core, barely slipping inside. You whimper again, louder and needy at the feeling of the very tips of his callused fingers pressing inside you. You can feel your slick dripping onto his fingers, down his hand, coating his pants. Slowly, he presses his fingers in deeper, curling them enough to make you cry out, before he’s pulling them out, spreading your thighs wider, fingertips teasing your other hole, wet with your own slick.

You shiver under the touch, but you don’t flinch away.

“Knew it,” he almost mutters to himself, leaning in to drag his teeth down your throat. “Knew you were a dirty little whore. Bet you’re going to cum the second I slide my cock into this pretty little cunt.” He punctuates the last word with a sharp slap to your clit, making you cry out and flinch away. You don’t hate it, though, it just surprises you.

“Well? Are you just going to sit here and look pathetic?” His hands seize your wrists, drag your hands to his belt buckle and settle them there, leaving you no doubt as to what he wants you to do. You’d only been waiting for express permission, really, your hands making short work of the belt, unzipping his pants and reaching in to wrap your fingers around his cock, freeing his length from its confines.

You have to bite down on your lip to keep your jaw from dropping. Fuck, he’s huge. Thick and curved and fuck, how is he going to fit? You run your fingers up and down his cock, thumb teasing at the tip before you meet his narrow eyed gaze.

“Stop fucking around.” He almost growls it at you, yanking you closer to him again, lifting you effortlessly so he can wrap his hand around his cock and notch it at your dripping entrance. “Montarlo, bebita.”

Ride it, baby. Oh, fuck, how you intend to.

The words are surprisingly soft as he guides you down onto him, inch by inch, letting you sink down onto him slowly. Your lips part in a filthy moan as you wriggle your hips, flush against him now. Taking a moment to breathe, you start to move, knowing he won’t just let you sit still for long.

You lift yourself up, slowly at first, then sink back down, getting faster with each movement until you’re bouncing on his cock, a string of little moans falling from your lips as one of his big hands seizes a fistful of your ass and squeezes tight, then slaps, hard enough to leave a mark.

Your cunt tightens painfully around him with each slap, knowing an imprint of his hand will be left there. Just when the slaps are really starting to hurt, he draws his hand away, settles both on your hips and guides you up and down his cock, rough and needy as his hips buck to meet you.

When he’s got you in a rhythm that he likes, he moves to rub at your clit again, clearly rewarding you for doing something that he likes. Veracruz doesn’t bother pretending he isn’t enjoying this, the way your eyes drop closed, the way you tighten around him every time he rocks his hips up.

You move your hands to brace on his chest as you ride him, lost in the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside you. Fuck, he feels so good, you don’t even care about the circumstances in which you ended up here, all that matters is the overwhelming feeling of pleasure building in you as you ride him.

“Fuck, please, give me more,” you beg him, desperate and needy and forgetting your place entirely. He’s not a good man, is allowing you to think you’re in charge because it amuses him, but the idea that he isn’t giving you enough somehow? Fine. He’ll see whether you can handle him.

He seizes your wrists in one hand, pushes you backwards and pins you beneath him, caging you in. You whine pathetically at the sudden emptiness where he’s pulled out of you.

“Greedy little slut, aren’t you? I bet if I cuffed you to this bed and stuffed my cock down your throat you’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you?”

You whimper beneath him, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for some sort of friction on your aching clit, cunt pulsing with sheer need.

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

You shake your head, and his open palm lightly collides with your cheek.

“Answer me. That’s not what you want, is it? So tell me what it is that you want, and maybe, maybe I’ll give it to you.” He drags the tip of his cock through your soaked folds, practising every step of self control he possesses not to just pin your thighs up under your chin and fuck you senseless.

“N-no, that’s not what I want.” Your cheek stings from the slap, but you love it, want him to be rough with you, want to feel him all over for days to come. And somehow, you know, that all you have to do is ask, and he’ll give it to you.

“Tell. Me.” He growls, leaning down to devour your lips in a heated kiss, knotting his fingers into your hair to yank your head to the side so he can suck a deep purple mark into the soft skin above your collarbone.

“I want you everywhere,” you tell him; he releases your wrists and immediately you move to undo his shirt, help him discard it before you drag your nails lightly up his back, “I want your beautiful fat cock stuffed inside me and your fingers in my ass. I want you to make it hurt, make it hurt so good I don’t want anyone else.”

Fuck. He practically growls at the words. Roughly spreads your thighs, hooks them up over his shoulders, lines himself up and plunges into you, making no effort to be slow, bottoming out almost immediately. The sting of your nails on the muscle of his back makes him think you’ve drawn blood, but he doesn’t give a shit. All that matters is the way your eyes roll back slightly as he fills you, the way your tight, wet little cunt seemingly sucks him in deeper, molding to every curve in his cock as your body adjusts to him again.

“Is that all?” Veracruz demands as he rocks his hips slowly, drawing another tantalising moan from your lips.

“I want you to keep going, even when it’s too much.” You reply, arching your back up to get closer to him. You don’t care whether he’s a bad man, whether he could kill you, all that matters is how he feels inside you.

“Greedy,” he pulls almost entirely out of you and slams back in, throbbing painfully at the obscene mewl you make, “fucking,” he repeats the motion, “whore.”

He slams into you, hard and fast, the tent echoing with the sound of skin roughly slapping together, your needy moans and his growls and grunts of pleasure. His teeth graze your throat, the curve of your tits, sucking greedily at your hardened nipples and biting down lightly. Almost without warning, you tighten around him, milking his cock as you gush and soak his cock, your slick dripping out of your abused cunt, down his cock, dripping down his balls as he fucks you.

“Fuck, that’s it, bebita, give me another one, go on~” he tilts his hips just so, the velvet soft head of his cock hitting your sweet spot with each and every thrust, making you scream out for him, soak him again, convulsing slightly beneath him.

“That’s it,” he groans, pulls out of you briefly just so he can flip you onto your front, pausing onto to stuff a pillow beneath you to prop you up at the angle he wants you.

“Fuck,” he draws it out into a long, drawn out groan as he sinks back into you, loving the way you feel on all fours, “look at you.”

One hand fists into your hair, yanking you up into position.

“You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You’re still dazed from two back to back orgasms, but you nod as best you can. You hear the impact of his free hand on your ass before you feel it, a sharp crack that echoes through the tent.

“You answer me when I speak to you.”

“Y-yes. I’ll be good.” You almost whimper it as he starts to move, releasing your hair and rubbing soothing circles on your bruised ass.

You can feel your own slick still between your ass cheeks, unbothered when his big hands spread them gently as he fucks into you slowly.

“Does my pretty, pathetic little whore still want all of her holes filled?” His voice is slightly mocking as he teases his finger around the tight ring of muscle, making you shiver. “Is my cock not enough?”

“It is,” you whimper as he slams into you again, “but please… ‘m greedy, just wanna be filled up, please~”

You’re babbling, but neither of you care. You’re too cock drunk, and he fucking loves it.

“Such a good girl for me, you should have what you want…”

As he speaks, he presses a single finger into your ass, knuckle deep, slow enough to let you adjust. When you moan and try to press yourself back against him, wanting both his cock and his finger deeper, he chuckles low in his chest, draws his finger out only to press two back in.

You moan, loud, obscene, feeling so wonderfully, deliciously full as he starts to move his fingers in rhythm with his cock, scissoring them slightly to make you mewl and wriggle beneath him.

The hand that isn’t occupied with fucking your ass moves around to roughly palm at your tits, pinching and teasing your nipples as he fucks you, harder and faster, hand moving down to tease your clit.

It’s too much, but exactly what you wanted, tears springing to your eyes as you tighten and gush around his cock again and again, his fingers insistently plucking at your clit like a practised guitarist until you collapse on the bed, unable to hold yourself up.

“Please, I need~” you simultaneously want him to stop, and don’t, because you want him to come, want him to fill you up and make you ache with need.

“Does my little whore need something?” His voice is low, breathing slightly labored with the effort of keeping his own release at bay.

“Do you want to be filled with my cum? I’m not stupid, princesa, you can have it in your mouth or your ass, I’ll be generous and let you decide.”

Slowly he draws his fingers out of your ass, slowing his thrusts to torturously languid, giving you time to decide.

“My mouth, please,” you beg him, “I wanna taste you…”

He groans, pulls out of you and smirks slightly at the sight; your cunt is swollen from how roughly he’s fucked you, drenched in your own slick and fluids and his pre cum.

“Hands and knees.” He instructs as he gets up off the bed, beckons you to the edge of it as you obey, crawling to him on shaking limbs.

You part your lips obediently, let him feed every inch of his cock into your mouth, tongue flicking at the soft head briefly before you take him, nose brushing the soft curls at the base of him.

He moans, a loud, drawn out grunt as he rocks his hips. He’s so fucking close, you barely need to do anything, but you do, sucking him greedily, working your tongue around him as his fingers curl into your hair, roughly guiding you.

“Fuck, that’s it, bebita, my pretty little whore, you have such a filthy mouth, ‘m gonna cum down this pretty mouth, you’re gonna take it, take all of it…” he groans, trailing off into broken Spanish as his hips stutter, spilling hot, thick ropes of his spend into your mouth, down your throat.

Greedily you drink him down, make a show of licking him clean, and he groans in appreciation at the sight.

When he eventually pulls his slowly softening cock from your mouth, you look up at him with a slightly cheeky smile on your face.

“So… I’m guessing you’re not gonna shoot me?”

“No.” He agrees, and then a slightly wicked grin curves his face, “but I’m not letting you go, either.”

Maybe it’s the hormones, maybe you’re just cock drunk, or maybe you’ve never been the smartest. Either way, you look him up and down with a sleepy smile.

“Seems okay to me.”

Like you have a choice. Like you really mind, either way.

#my writing #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #comandante veracruz #Comandante Veracruz x Reader #Veracruz x Reader #Pedro Pascal Character Fics

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ninjaneonleon · 9 months

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Odile’s confession

Start

The day by the lake had to be one of Donnie’s favourites. Leo, in his crow form, never left Donnie’s side for even a moment. He perched on Donnie’s back, flew laps around him and even performed tricks in the air when Donnie found himself getting bored. And the best part was, Donnie remembered every moment of the past few days. There was no haze, no confusion, he didn’t even need to worry about his notice board or his bracelet, it was all still there. Odette’s soul, though, Donnie knew she had forgotten. Submitted to the harsh reset. Maybe because Donnie now had his own twin supporting him, maybe that was why he was unaffected and why Odette was.

Leo got more fidgety when the sun started setting. He stopped being so playful and went and hid in his tree, letting out small warning caws at Donnie when he approached. Something was making him uncomfortable. Was he scared? Was he worried about how he’d react when he changed back? Donnie wasn’t sure but he desperately wanted to help his twin. Still, Leo wanted space so Donnie gave it to him.

When the moon rose, Donnie instantly made his way over to Leo’s willow tree. Surely Leo’s curse worked the same as Donnie’s did, surely he’d be fine. He had Donnie to support his memory, and he was strong and wilful anyway. He’d be able to power through anything that Von Rothbart could throw at him.

Leo wasn’t visible in the branches, not as a bird or as a dancer.

“Leo?” He called, worry starting to prickle along his wings.

“That’s not my name.” Leo’s voice hissed behind him. Donnie stumbled forwards, falling the the shore as something hit his shell. When Donnie turned and looked up, Leo stood above him.

Leo’s eyes blazed blue, a deep cerulean that matched his former mask but was a far cry from his previous heterochromia. His skin was an even deeper green than before and his markings stood out even more vividly. Donnie was certain that Leo’s yellow stripes were now edged in red as well. His expression was hateful and angry but confident.

“You know who I am. Don’t confuse me for Leo,” Leo snarled. “I’m not so weak as he was.”

Donnie was on his feet in an instant. Leo’s curse had gotten stronger, somehow. Was his soul merging faster with Odile’s? That shouldn’t be possible, it took Donnie years to get to his current point, Leo shouldn’t be so far gone so quickly. Donnie had to do something.

“Odile?” He asked hesitantly. Maybe appealing to her soul would help Leo.

Leo’s scowl deepened. “Don’t call me that,” he hissed, stepping closer to Donnie threateningly. “Don’t call me what- what she named me. I am Leandro. That’s the name that I chose.” Donnie was certain he saw the flash of tears in the corner of Leo’s eyes. “I respect you enough to call you Othello, I deserve the same respect now.”

“Le— Leoandro, what’s wrong?” Donnie didn’t understand. Why was Odile’s soul so angry?

Leo turned and walked further into the lake.

“It doesn’t matter. Come out to the water so we can get this over with. I won’t lose to you again.” Leo’s voice was much more curt, more abrupt now. He sounded like he was in pain. “I’ll get that treasure from the lake for Father and you won’t stop me.”

Donnie didn’t move from the shore.

“No. I won’t fight you.” Donnie wouldn’t let Leo or Odile or whoever he was talking to bait him. He wouldn’t fight his twin again. “Something’s wrong. Let me help—“

“Oh, like you helped when you left?” Leo snapped, not looking back. “Like you helped when Father took me and Mother took you? Like you helped when Father realised I was better at magic than you so I was useful?”

Leo turned, tears streaming down his face but a cruel smile on his lips. “Poor, poor Othello. Always a crybaby, always Mother’s favourite.” He swayed a little where he stood, almost unstable on the silvery roots that supported him. “Such a beautiful dancer but so useless otherwise. No magic and so weak. I might not have been as good a dancer as you but at least Father wanted to keep me, at least I was useful. It doesn’t matter that Mother took you away and you never came back for me, that you didn’t even say goodbye. It doesn’t matter because Mother never came back either. At least Father kept me close, trained me in magic so I could find you and bring you home so he could punish you for leaving me all alone!”

Leo was panting by the time he finished. His eyes widened as he realised what he said and his wings spread. Not a moment later, he was gone, flying off into the forest and leaving Donnie to process what he had just learned.

Odile had been left alone with Von Rothbart. She didn’t know that he had been planning on destroying Odette. Odile just thought she had been abandoned again. First by Ilma when she had favoured Odette and then again by her twin when she never came home. Donnie’s heart ached and Odette’s soul screamed in pain.

Donnie had to find Leo.

He ignored the sounds of people arriving at his lake, he ignored the calls behind him. Donnie spread his wings and shot into the air.

He had to find his twin and fast. Who knows what would happen if the Crow found Leo again, especially if he was empty handed. Odette’s fear at even the thought of that overtook any rational thinking that Donnie could have applied.

Donnie didn’t have to go far. He heard familiar sounding sobs in a treetop near the lake. Thank the stars.

He landed nearby, listening and seeing if he could figure out how to help. Emotions weren’t his forte, or Odette’s. She felt too strongly and Donnie struggled with voicing what he felt. Listening for what Leo, or in this case Odile, was going through might give him some insight.

“Stupid twin,” Leo muttered through his sobs. “Just because he’s so beautiful and so talented doesn’t mean that he can just get away with— with everything. I don’t know why I even bother trying to be fair. He never was. Mother always loved him more. Father— Father knew I was useful. But he’s gonna love me. I’ll bring him home and Father will be proud of me properly. I’ll be a proper crow and not this stupid black swan anymore. I’ll be like him and I won’t be the worst twin anymore.”

Donnie didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t think of how to make any of this better.

So he didn’t think. Instead, he flew up to Leo’s branch and perched nearby.

“Mother loved you too, you know,” he murmured, not flinching when Leo gasped and shuffled backwards. “She loved you so much. But she also knew that because Father was interested in your magic, you’d be safe. I wasn’t.”

“Why wouldn’t you be safe?” Leo spat, scrambling to his feet. “You were basically perfect. Perfect and graceful and beautiful. A perfect swan.” His eyes became an even brighter blue as Odile surfaced even more.

“But not a perfect assistant.” Donnie let himself fade a little into his connection with Odette. She needed to speak to her twin, not Donnie. “We both changed back during the day. And I couldn’t help with any magic. Mother kept me close to protect me, not because she didn’t love you.”

“Father wouldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t hurt us.” Leo insisted.

“And yet, he’s forcing you to be something you’re not. You’re not a crow. You’re a swan. A beautiful, graceful, elegant black swan.” Donnie found himself smiling softly. “My twin who I love dearly. And I’ve missed you so much, Leandro.”

Leo teared up again, staring at Donnie for a moment before launching himself towards him. He clung to Donnie and sobbed, his wings drooping.

“I’ve— I’ve missed you too! When Mother left with you, Father said it was because you didn’t love us anymore!” He wailed, curling as close as he possibly could. Donnie just wrapped his arms around Leo and stroked his shell. “I just wanted it to stop hurting. I don’t wanna fight you.”

“Then we won’t fight,” Donnie promised softly. “C’mon, let’s go back to the lake and we can talk properly, yeah? We can get cozy under our tree and we can figure this out.” Leo nodded mutely, nuzzling closer to Donnie.

After a moment longer, once he had calmed down a little, he spoke again. “Othello? Why is everything blurry? I don’t feel like myself at all.”

“Because there is a lot going on, Leandro. Just trust me when I say this: we’ll figure it out. Like we always did when we were kids. And I promise, I won’t ever leave you again.”

———————

Another part so soon? I know, shocker. But the plot bunnies woke up today and chose violence and so give you angst!

Edit: part 8

Swanatello belongs to @tangledinink

Crownardo belongs to @dryad-druid

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fic writing #crownardo #swanatello

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julianalvarez9 · 1 year

Text

can't sleep (without you) / leandro trossard

request: bestie 🙏🏻🙏🏻 i’m on my knees for a trossard fic/sm!au. honestly, whatever you’re okay with doing. if it’s possible, all i ask is that it’s fluff <3

author's note: bestie this man needs to have more things written about him like 😭😭 he's my little baby. hope this does the trick!!! had the idea for pedri initially but after receiving the request i remembered the wip and said yeah this is for my little sleep deprived boyfriend 🤭🫶🏻

warnings: not really a warning but i use lean as a nickname. i knowww it's generally leo instead, but sometimes lean is used where i live and i thought it was cuter. if you've got any problems with it, you're free to use leo instead :)

summary: the four times you notice leandro's not sleeping well, and the one time he finally does.

wc: 1.400 words

01.

the first time you notice that leandro's not getting enough sleep, it's during practice. your job is to keep them healthy, not only on the physical aspect and thus, on the pitch, but off the green grass too. you've noticed he's been a little off lately, not really focused on the task given and rather looking zoned out. so when practice's over, you approach him carefully.

"hey, leandro, are you okay?" you softly said, grabbing lightly his bicep to stop him from getting onto the changing rooms. he stops when he feels your touch, and turns to face you, concerned look showing on your features which transmitted onto his own. "yeah, why do you ask?" he frowned, while tilting his head in confusion.

"you look... tired?".

the affirmation you said isn't quite what he expected to hear from you. leandro doesn't get mad at you, but he doesn't look happy either. "oh" he mutters, assuming that you're implying that he looks bad. "no no, you look good" you rush to justify, cheeks getting profusely warmer at the confession that slipped from your lips. "just that you could use a nap, you know?".

"yeah, i could," leandro smiled, showing his pearly white teeth. "i'll take your advice. thank you, y/n."

02.

"how was your weekend?" the belgian asks, lightly leaning into the coffee vending machine situated on the end of the corridor. you were supposed to be watching the players, supervising them, but the air on london colney was too cold right now, and you needed a hot beverage to warm you up. leandro, on the other hand, should be warming up already, but instead was too distracted making small talk with you. "catching up on sleep, really needed it. you?".

"i did that too," he commented nonchalantly, rushing to get to your side once you started making your way towards the pitch again, leaving him behind. "sleeping for four hours isn't catching up on sleep, trossard," you deadpanned. it isn't the first time that you reprimanded him about how many hours he rested through the night, but leandro always pushed it off. "five hours is enough for you?".

"that's three hours less than the minimum required".

03.

"are you asleep?".

leandro's voice brings you back to consciousness, even if it was through a soft whisper. you're quite annoyed at being woken up so suddenly, and it shows in your response to his question. "clearly," you mutter, but remain still as you were before, giving the impression that you could fall asleep again any second. "c'mon, liefje, don't be mean," he whispers, while gently tapping your shoulder to catch your attention. you begrudgingly take the mask that was covering your eyes to sleep off, and look at him through tired eyes. "what is it, lean?".

things had started to get more personal lately, hence the utilization of the dutch pet name the arsenal player had given you a couple of weeks ago. in return, you adopted the nickname lean -short for leandro- for him, and you were marveled at how easy it seemed with him suddenly. calling him lean felt right, just as him calling you little treasure in his mother tongue felt.

"should have told you before you agreed to sit with me, but i'm kinda scared of airplanes".

you didn't want to laugh at him, but the giggle left your mouth without warning you. part of his job involved him travelling around to places, so it seemed kinda funny to you that he would be scared of planes. leo faked getting angry at your impromptu reaction, but it was quickly swapped to a pout that made your heart swell. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i didn't mean to laugh at you", you apologized, before continuing "what do you need me to do? do you need some sleeping pills? for me to sing you a song? hold your hand?".

the artificial light on the plane lets you see just barely how his cheeks turn into a slightly reddish color. "t-that's actually a good idea. i think. if you're up for it."

you don't know if it's your need to reassure him, or that you want to go back to sleep as soon as possible, but you extend your arm quickly, searching for his left hand that's resting awkwardly on his lap. the armrest separating both of you isn't the most practical thing, making his arm fall weirdly into your seat and, for sure, causing him discomfort. you drop his hand before trying to raise the armrest, and at first, he doesn't quite understand why you dropped his palm. until you grab it again without him having to tell you twice, and he smiles when he feels you mindlessly drawing circles onto the back of his hand.

"goodnight, my pretty little sleep deprived boy".

04.

the entire team has just arrived at the stadium where arsenal is supposed to play in a few hours. you're all waiting for the call to actually enter the facility, and meanwhile, you're keeping conversation with martin, -seated by your side now-, leandro and kiernan.

you're not paying attention to what they're saying, though, because you're keeping an eye on the belgian. when he yawns, again, you can't help but call him out for it. "leandro, that’s the third time in the last two minutes that you’ve yawned", you chastised, and martin at your side whips is head just in time to catch his teammate yawning a fourth time.

"i promise i'm not tired. i slept well last night", he assures, and you frown, not quite believing it due to the dark circles under his eyes, just a shade darker than they were the day before. "i'll make sure he takes a nap after this game, y/n", the boy seated at his side promises, patting his back lovingly. soon enough, martin joins too. "you'll need to stay with him, kiernan. he told me once he needs to have someone by his side to sleep well".

05.

tonight, you were at his house for the first time. like friends. leandro had set up a movie for you to watch, and some snacks on the little table nearby for you two to eat from. your sense of time isn't the best, but you can guess that it's been almost halfway through the movie. but at this point, you're not sure if the man at your side is even paying attention right now. it's been about 20 minutes since he retorted to rest his head on your lap, and you didn't oppose it, instead starting to caress his long locks mindlessly.

the soft snores catched your attention right away, but you didn't have the heart to wake him up. not when he looks so cute while sleeping, and certainly not when you know he's not the best at sleeping through the night.

eventually, the movie ends, and even if you try not to move too much, you're sure your left leg has gone numb by now. leandro seems to be a light sleeper, because at the littlest movement from you, he's already awake.

"did i fall asleep?" he ask, voice hoarse from sleep. he normally has soft, puppy eyes, but now that they're filled with sleepiness, the sight is even cuter to you. "yeah, you did," you giggle, and he drives his hands to his face, hiding away, embarrassed. he doesn't get to catch onto your lovesick stare, and you're kinda grateful for it.

"ey, no. don't feel bad about it. i actually thought it was pretty cute," you reassure, although, just like the first time you complimented him, it's something that slips past your lips. you get to see the little wrinkles near his eyes, where his hands don't quite cover, before he turns, giving his back to the television. leandro continues hiding his face, but now on your tummy, your sweatshirt muffling the plea that he slowly mutters. "can you stay with me tonight? i can't seem to fall asleep on my own these days".

your cheeks go warm at the implication that you might be what he needs to have a well rested night of sleep. during the little nap he took, he barely moved, and even if it wasn't the most comfortable position -his legs were cramped up together- his sleep seemed to be peaceful. "y-yeah, if it's what you need to sleep well".

"almost sure you're what i need, liefje".

#football imagine #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #leandro trossard imagine #leandro trossard x reader #leandro trossard x you #leandro trossard x y/n

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cant-get-no-worse · 1 year

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i am always very intrigued by the neymessi relationship. thoughts on them?

Hiya people! I'm currently having a good chuckle because as I read your asks, I see mutuals celebrating the neymessi overtaking cressi on ao3 party. Uncanny. World colllides. Anyways. Imma rant now, you just gave me free real estate!

Disclaimer : this isn't me parasocially psychoanalizing the friendship of two grown ass men I've never seen nor talked to, this is just me covering bases of funny thoughts me n some friends have been entertaining about it. It's senseless ramble and fun and I gotta make profit off of those hours I spend looking at them interact aight.

First of, whatever I could say about it, in the end, everything condenses into this, really: it's a beautiful human bound. Akin to those unlikely friendships brought together by football — kinda makes you think this god wrenched sport isn't so wasted after all. Then you see Harry Kane's face, and you deflate, but that's a whole otha thang (sorry Kane mutuals) (the bloke is coming to PSG anyways).

It's all the more fascinating as we partially saw it develop in real life, and its 'public' aspect is well documented, from the tweets of Neymar all the way back in 2011 fan girling over Messi when they hadn't even met, to the countless footage of games, backstages, documentaries, interviews, little snippets here and there. Let's go over some aspects in an orderly manner.

Similarities between Neymar and other dudes

You can kind of wonder how Leo, introverted as he is, could have ended up entertaining a decade-long friendship (spent apart for four whole years) with such guy as Neymar, a whole five years his junior. And then you look at Leo’s other myriad of friends over the course of the years: Ronaldinho, the whole Brazilian squad of Barcelona who took him under their wing because they liked him, Kun Agüero, Rodrigo De Paul and Leandro Paredes. All extroverted, a bit immature/impulsive, loudmouthed, joyful dudes, and then you realize the guy just has a knack for befriending such people. It just compliments his character. (I’m not adding Luis Suarez to the bunch cause while Luis is impulsive, loudmouthed, extroverted, joyful, he is also a whole other vibe, much more settled/mature, it’s a whole other thing. Could rant about it for hours too. That Messi/Suarez friendship is so genuine, easy, weird, and amazing).

What’s the diff with Suarez

So talking about Suarez, I think the best way to start discerning a relationship is to oppose it to others. The easiest way being here opposing the Messi/Suarez and Neymar/Suarez to the Neymar/Messi. They’re all friends, but the duos don’t work the same way, and it’s obvious. Messi/Suarez are besties, they share the same age, interests, mate, families, whatever. Messi brought him on his honeymoon. Like what the actual fuck. Anyways. Suarez/Neymar reads more like a friend/brothers relationship, were they liked to mess around, fuck around and make fun of each other. You’d think since Suarez and Messi are rigorously the same age, Messi and Neymar’d have a similar relationship. But na. You just can’t look at it and state Messi/Neymar relationship is only brother like. They are brothers, but not only. There’s a shit ton of layers, due to the circumstances of their meeting, their career trajectories, what they represent, for their countries as for football, the roles they had to assume towards each other at FCB in the beginning, but also due to their characters. So what’s the layers?

Childhood/idol

The whole « child gets to play alongside the idol he used to watch on TV » boat has been sailed already by a ton of other players from all leagues, it’s one of the joys of this sport. It’s very sweet, to see how much Neymar used to hop on Twitter to unabashedly fanboy alongside other people over a Messi performance or to even just wish him a very enthused happy birthday (the proofs are there and he hasn’t even deleted them lmfao, the boy was relentless). What I like about it, however, is how little that behavior faltered over the course of the years. Younger players generally tone down the whole idolizing stuff, whether because they’re disillusioned about it (don’t meet your heroes, eh), because they’re just getting used to it, because it’d be awkward, they reserve it when they’re asked about it, in shorter commentaries. Neymar didn’t. Quite the contrary; it’s like playing with Messi only heightened his esteem for the other’s abilities, and to this admiration of the professional side, a personal layer of first-hand appreciation, by becoming a teammate and a friend, was added. Ten years later, placing a bet on Neymar name-dropping Messi on his interviews remains the safest money gambling you’ll do in your life, alongside betting on Pep doing the same (Pep’s odds are admittedly a bit higher, but the man is just batshit insane.) How little Neymar cares about how his admiration is perceived by others or by Leo himself, how unabashedly awed and praiseful he remained of Leo’s skills. Leo himself said he found it a bit embarrassing at times, because Neymar would say it to his face, but at the end of the day, it was just flattering and endearing to receive compliments from a friend and a fellow good player. That side of their relationship could have become, as some put it, embarrassing or awkward, a star-struck teammate who never grew out of it, but because of the sheer sincere nature of both their character (albeit a transparency showing through different ways, Neymar’s being the most flashy) – a trait that seemed to have been key in the establishment of their friendship – they managed to make it simply impossible for it to be embarrassing. They’re completely candid with the other about that, have been since day one, and the result is one of the healthiest child-turned-teammate-of-idol relationship you’ll get to witness. It’s utterly touching, and extremely human.

Brazil/Arg superstars & Countries rivalry

The other obvious aspect is the whole Brazil/Argentina dichotomy. This one is the thing that get a lot of imagination fuming on the internet due to the cinematic parallels/star crossed/movie-like narratives you can appose and romanticize. Barring every other consideration, I just think it’s so fitting it’s almost laughable. The resemblances in career path – two players from arguably the two countries the most insane about football and with the greatest football legacy, star boys turned 10 and figures of their respective selections, compared to an early age to the two ever looming figures of Maradona and Pelé (although Messi probably in a more glaring way, with Maradona himself stating outright the succession thing and Neymar’s comparisons being split between Pelé and Ronaldinho’s profiles). Their friendship threw a bridge over that eternal rivalry, bridge that became all the more obvious the more years passed and the more they became the centralizing figures for their NT and faced each other on the fields. The two teams trash each other on the ground, but respect prevail between players – not just Neymar and Leo, btw, that goes for seemingly every player, given that a lot of them crosses paths with each other at club level. In any case, I believe that mutual respect condenses itself in the 10’s relationship. The video of Leo refusing to engage in a song mocking Brazil (2023 Arg-Panama WC celebration) (keeping in mind trash-singing culture is widespread in Latin America, much more so than Europe; singing such songs isn’t necessarily personal, it’s just… tradition, and especially when you’re Brazil and Argentina and you just beat the other) and in another instance (after the 2021 Copa America) actively discouraging teammates to drop the subject tells you everything you need to know about the amount of care/respect the both of them hold each other to.

Mentor

There’s the whole mentoring role to it, too. When Neymar arrived in 2013 in the team, Leo had established himself already. Puyol, Xavi, Iniesta, all remained the older mentors of the team, but in term of talent and path, it kind of became obvious that Neymar could become Leo’s protegee the same way Leo was Dinho’s. The first steps were hesitants, as we all know, what with Neymar needing time to fit in a whole new league and continent, the infamous locker room chat, but after a year or so the ball got rolling (ha-ha). Imo, eventually (perhaps not in the first years, but from 2015/2016, at least after the 2014 WC) Leo seemed to have fully settled/grew into this kind of mentor-mentality and wanted to help Neymar get his BO and stuff. That’s partly why the 2017 departure could have left a bitterness aftertaste or at least a feeling of failure to have completely achieved what Dinho did on his part. See how eager he was to help Ousmane when Dembélé arrived.

Complementary play and MSN balance

On the football side, I mean. Not much to say. They’re probably the two guys with the biggest reserve of pure, raw talent of the 21st century (I mean from 2000 til 2023, as far as we know). It’s ridiculous how those two guys ended up playing together. At 20 years old, people were asking if Messi was one of the greatest players of all time, and at 21 years old, Ronaldinho said that Neymar would surpass Messi. Talent doesn’t necessarily equal chemistry on field, tho (cough side glance at you know where cough), yet they made it work, thanks to Luis who provided the final balance for it all. Funnily enough, people always praise MSN as being completely devoid of ego, as if they’re some kind of saints individually, but that’s not true. They have some ego, they’re just good dudes. Ego isn’t a bad personality trait. Most top athletes have it, it pushes you. Those guys just knew where to place it, how to handle it, and they were just too good of persons individually, and too good friends mutually. They were selfless with each other, and it was so damn refreshing to see, and it's something that perpetuates still at PSG.

Physical proximity/chemistry

Do you hear that? That’s the horde of Ao3 writers barreling towards, foam at their mouth and keyboards at their fingers, wide eyed. Quick, shut the door. Oh wait, I’m one of them. YOU’RE TRAPPED. HAHA.

Na, about that, it’s just of those things that happen. Their chemistry and instinct to touch is obvious, if the hundredths of pictures and compils with Ariana Grande screaming Save Your Tears in the background wasn’t enough to pass the hint. But honestly, there’s nothing more to see here. Some players get more physical than others, just because. Some people get more physical than others, just because. That’s chemistry. Football, like all sports, take you from the lowest point just to lift you up with an adrenaline rush the very next minute. Unlike other sports, however, it’s a team sport, so you play, you work through it, you win, you celebrate not alone, but with other people. Much more so when you’re working as a unit, like Neymar and Messi were with Suarez as the forwards, tuning to each other’s mind/bodies to get the chemistry running and the goals flowing.

Seeing them together uncannily reminded me of one of my own relationship with someone in my entourage. We disliked each other, and then kind of overnight, unexpectedly, became friends, and started touching each other. There wasn’t anything sexual about it, it was innocent in all forms, but there was just this instinctive, mindless move of putting arms around each other’s shoulders, holding hands, or whatever. There was genuinely nothing to see here, it’s just the way our friendship/relationship worked. It’s an intrinsic part of it, a constant. Touching holds more than a thousand words. You can imagine how such a medium of communication is exalted through sports, where physicality is everywhere and the first language everyone speaks.

Whether in 2015 or 2022, take any video, they’re always going to be jumping to each other. There’s some degrees of variation; sometimes, most times, it’s to celebrate, it’s euphoric and lively and flying about, others it’s a touch on the shoulder, the hair, the waist. Whether as a teammate checking on the other because of an injury (generally it was due to Neymar being bodied by opposition players), diffusing a situation (Neymar getting worked up over another player), as friends gossiping, as opposite players (Leo asking for a yellow on Ney and then both touching to level the situation), a hug or touch on the thigh (2015 UCL celebration), a gentle touch on a knee during training for no other reason than it’s a natural instinct and it’s an relationship in which it’s normal, whatever. Sometimes they hug to celebrate, sometimes it’s loaded (see 2021 CA final). I can’t explain it, just browse about and you’ll see plenty. It’s also the eyes — Neymar can be caught looking unabashedly at Leo with the same adoration as a kid. His platonic passion is just one of a kind. Leo will be found staring amused, tender or just lost in thought. It’s endearing. The eyes, chico. Once again; it just works.

There’s not much to see or read here, it’s just because it is. Marco Verratti doesn’t have a relationship as personal with them as they do and yet the fucker will always find a way to touch them thighs or shoulders – because some people are just physical like that. Also because he’s an Italian hooker. But that’s a whole other story. Ramos and Modric have insane chemistry in the same way. A handful of teammates pairs have that kind of thing going.

They also don’t convey it like the other people they’re physically close to. You just watch Messi and Suarez interact and touch (and they do! A lot!) and it’s not the same as when Neymar and Messi do. Messi and Agüero, Messi and Piqué (cough), Messi and Pedri, Neymar and Mbappé, Neymar and Dani Alves, Neymar and the whole fucking world cause he’s that touchy mf. Each one of these ways of touching tell the depths and subtleties of the relationship lying behind, you could ramble hours about two people like I’m doing but at the end of the day you just look at how the both of them touch and look, and you get it. (i direct you to cara's blog!)

It works for them, as it works for lots of human beings. We touch to convey stuff. They lived through tough and euphoric times with their club, had the weight of the two arguably most prestigious football selections on their shoulders, went through boring training sessions, flights, team drama, tax evasion stuff (cue laughter), they’ve been evolving in the same world of money, public and fast-paced life for years. Add to that the personal relationship - friends, teammates, mentors, opposites, etc. They’re on a common understanding ground. They touch. That’s the wordless language.

Extrovert/introvert

The extrovert introvert thing, blabla. It’s just endlessly entertaining to see them interact because it seems like a stark contrast on paper, but in reality, they kinda even each other out. Neymar is his usual outgoing, ray of sunshine (Galtier’s words, not mine), fidgeting, energy-filled dude, and Leo’s calm, dealing with his shit on his own terms, perfectly okay with not talking, but also perfectly okay with gossiping and joking about. That’s one of the most underrated aspects to their friendship, imo. It just seems, from 2013 to now, that they just have tremendous fun being around each other. It’s not the same kind of energetic, very showy-pranksty-physically fun you can see Neymar have with other Brazilians or Suarez or Mbappé etc, because of Leo’s character, it happens in a different way (the energies match differently). Whether at Barca, on an international pitch or at PSG, each time they are seen being around each other, you just know there’s gonna be a picture of them cracking up over dumb shit. Every time. Clockwork. It’s kinda amazing lmfao.

The 2017 – 2021 era

Now you’d think they’d be close during their days at FCB because of circumstances; you have a coworker, you surprisingly get along fine, you become friends, then one of you leave works, and slowly but surely the relationship or wish to reunite get fainter and fainter. It’s just something we experience a lot, and it’s also something you see in football a lot due to transfers (cue that tumblr post about a player transfering is like selling your child). Players become friends, friendships get severed because of space and time and the impossible schedule. The thing with Ney and Leo is that all throughout 2017 – 2021, they not only seemed to have maintained a friendship, but above all a fierce wish to play with each other again. Multiple accounts from that period of time say Leo reportedly asked for Neymar to be brought back by the board each time they asked which improvements/suggestions the players (and esp Leo, given his influence at FCB) would give. Neymar stated multiple times and publicly (in a typical Neymar fashion) that he wanted to play with Leo again. It’s like they’d found the perfect partnership, on and off the pitch, and they were both wanting it again.

The Barça to PSG transition

Now the PSG era!! It's quite fascinating, for you could consider the dynamics to have been inversed: Leo was the one arriving, Neymar was the experienced one on these grounds. There’s no football mentorship going on, for Neymar didn't have to teach Leo how to play, Leo having enough experience to just about integrate himself anywhere, but there is the mentorship in adapting, if you will – to a new league, new country, new teammates. Similarities in situation plastered everywhere, eight years later. You can kind of see why it can be easy to go mad at how this entire relationship do seem like a written story filled with parallels cause the author is so keen on it.

In the first year, Leo was seen hanging with the Latam - Neymar, Paredes, Di Maria, Icardi etc - (and Marco Verratti, cause the short fucker is just likeable like that) to the point where there really seemed to be "clans" within the locker rooms. I don't think it's necessarily true, rather it was just a bunch of close friends (two of which he'd just won the Copa América with) and shameless admirers of him who were all too eager to help him adapt, esp given Leo's character - he just isn't one to take the first step towards others, normally, even less so in a foreign country/club where locker rooms dynamics are already up and going. I don't remember which PSG ex player said he was quiet in his corner and didn't make no waves. Then after Di Maria and Paredes' departure, it seems Neymar really took on that role.

See the videos of training or games from 2021 – 2023, a rough 80% of the time they remain glued to each other, with others tagging along (Verratti esp). They do the exercises together, they warm up alongside, they go in and out of the pitch talking, they wait talking (see : the Riyadh XI game). The difference with FCB times are quite stark: in Barça they would have other friends to be around to here and there - Suarez, Busquets, Alba, Piqué, Alves - while it seems at PSG they're revolving around each other. Not that Neymar doesn't have friends; he's befriended the whole locker room, but he did once slip in whatever interview that Paris had never managed to be really home. It's nothing dramatic, but an interesting insight. Leo on the other hand is perhaps not very interested in entertaining personal relationships with the other players outside of professionalism – once again Verratti seems to be an exception, they stick a lot together esp since Neymar’s injury —, so it’s just natural. So it was about falling back/gravitating around the most familiar thing you could find, made all the more obvious after the Di Maria/Paredes departure. They know each other, it’s a relationship of transparency and trust (as aforementioned) and fun, and they'd always wanted to play with each other again. At that point, it's not a new friendship where they just know each other for two years on surface, are unsure about each other, or prompt to unstability or smth. They've been friends for a decade. They've been through very emotional moments in club and in nation (2021 CA Final), it's not just being coworkers. Old habits die hard, etc. Imo the core of the relationship didn't change, but the setting and circumstances did add closeness to them - Leo is just fine/most comfortable being with Neymar and Verratti mostly, and the two are too happy to oblige because they love him. Makes for a wonderful midget trio, of which we unfortunately didn't get enough.

Conclusion

I like it. As you could probably guess from the Bible-length commentary I just pumped out. It’s just refreshing to see a relationship as genuine as these two, seemingly coming out of the blue, that somehow continued through time and space separation. The absurd resilience of such bound makes it seems so effortless for them to be friends, due to the fundamentally good/true nature of their respective characters, and I treasure it dearly, even more so after having followed/seen other friendships from different players be broken up over shit. It’s a caring, genuine, trusting, tender, fun, complicit relationship, and one I think will go on beyond the end of their football careers – in other forms.

#anon ask #ciene talks a lot about useless stuff #neymar #messi

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awhoreintheory · 1 year

Text

Mama, I'm home

The team stepped out of the cramped HUMVEE into an already swarming crowd. Loud chatter, the usual ‘we’re saved!’ from civilians, relieved but unsure looks from Garrison officers, curious and excited chatter from children. While Keith and Shiro talked with officials, introducing the Alteans, explaining, while also getting a rundown of the situation. Pidge had a heartfelt reunion with her family.

Hunk, much like Lance, was picking through the crowd, searching. Hunk anxiously fiddled with his fingers, and Lance nervously biting his lip. He wasn’t entirely sure what to look for. His family could’ve changed in so many ways while he was gone! Hair-cuts, hair dye, scars, growth spurts, anything! Lance wasn’t there for any of it.

Lance took a deep breath, calming himself. He was here now.

Lance heard it before he saw it, definitely felt it before he saw it, too.

“Lance...? Lance!” A body slammed into Lance full force, and he fought every honed instinct as a soldier not to throw them off. Because, this was, undoubtedly, Veronica.

“Ronni..?” Lance whispered, voice cracking and wavering, and he gingerly wrapped an arm around her. Almost as if he were scared she’d disappear like in one too many of his dreams.

“¡Leandro! ¡Oh, dios mío, hase vuelto! You’re back! You’re alive!” Veronica sobbed into his shoulder, the two of them slowly sinking to the ground with a soft ‘thump’.

“Ronni― it’s you, it’s really, really you, I―” Lance buried his head in Veronica’s shoulder, a shaky sob escaping as it finally sank in. Veronica was here, in Lance’s arms. Lance was here, on Earth, in Veronica’s arms.

“¿Mijo?” A shaky, worn voice hesitantly called out.

“Mamá?” Lance called back, looking up. Not that it helped much, from all the tears blurring his vision.

Lance had expected angry cursing and a crushing hug from his pistol of a mother, but all he got was soft gentle touching and big, disbelieving eyes. “Leandro? Es that you? Mi Lancito?”

She gently caressed his face, fingers tracing his barely aged face but still noticeably different. A scar cut through his left eyebrow, had lost all his baby fat that clung to his face by now, and had grown quite a few inches. While Lance’s mom had only seemed to age. She had more wrinkles than Lance remembered, more gray in her hair, and her eyes seemed foggier than normal. She was getting on in life, and Lance hadn’t been here for it. Lance hadn’t been there for it.

“It’s me, Mamá. I’m here.” Lance gently wrapped his hands around her wrists, leaning into her touch.

More tears spilled from her eyes, and Lance was wrapped in a feather-light hug. So light he wasn’t even sure it was actually happening, his thick armor not really helping in the feeling department. Veronica had gone apparently to grab the rest of the McClain family, and soon enough Lance was surrounded. All his siblings were here, his siblings' spouses, and his niece and nephew.

Lance’s Abuelo and Abuela didn’t make it, though.

Abuelo died from a brain tumor a year after Lance disappeared, and his Abuela died after the Galra struck. Her body was just too old and frail, and it didn’t help she was stupidly self-sacrificial. It must be true how the apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.

“So you’re the blue paladin, Tío Lance?” Sylvio questioned, knocking on Lance’s chest-plate.

“That’s so cool, Tío!” Nadia was excitedly bouncing around Lance, inspecting every inch of his armor and asking a million questions a minute.

Lance laughed heartily, shaking his head. “No, actually! I’m the Red Paladin! That’s kinda more like the second command, by the way. A right hand man metaphorically and literally!” Lance grinned, pretending not to notice how his mother’s brow creased in concern and the shared looks between his siblings. His line of work was dangerous, and now that Earth had been invaded, everyone got a taste of just how true that really was.

“That’s even cooler!”

“Yeah!”

Lance scratched his neck; a nervous tick he could never quite shake. “Do.. you guys want to meet my team? I know you probably want to catch up and stuff, but we’re gonna have to have a meeting with Commander Sanda and Mr. Holt n’ stuff, but they’re like my second family― not that I replaced you guys!― and like, Voltron and whatever― we save shit together.. Ohmyfuckinggod, we’re like a platoon of Jeasuses―”

Lance’s ramble was interrupted by a familiar and less-than-painful pinch from his mother. “Lancito! No swearing!” and flipped like a switch and smiled gently at Lance. “We’d love to meet your team, Mijo.” Lance smiled softly back, rubbing his arm even though his armor no doubt blocked it.

Turning, Lance made eye contact with Keith, who was watching the whole interaction with a soft smile. He smiled back, beckoning Keith over. Who better to introduce first than their fearless leader? Keith looked around, sporting an adorable confused face, pointing at himself and tilting his head. Asking a silent question of ‘me? you’re seriously introducing me to them first?’

Nodding, Lance waved him over again. A silent ‘yes, you doofus, come here’. Keith looked at Shiro, who smiled gently and gave him a nudge in that direction. Lance was too far away to hear, but he saw Shiro’s mouth move and Keith’s resulting smile. Keith slowly made his way over, looking for all the world bashful, expertly avoiding people even with his eyes glued to the ground.

“Mamá, this is the Black Paladin and our fearless leader, Keith Kogane.” Lance grinned, grabbing Keith’s fidgety hands and dragging him forward the last couple steps.

“Hi― um, hello? I’m Keith, the Black Paladin― oh, Lance just said that…” Keith flushed, scratching the back of his neck and looking everywhere but the people in front of him. Lance only felt weirdly endeared, seeing that Keith actually cared enough about Lance’s family to get embarrassed― this man never got embarrassed― and even attempted a good first impression! Did you see the amount of effort he put into saying hi?

“Muchas gracias Mijo, for keeping mi baby safe.” Lance’s mother grasped Keith’s hands in her own, a few stray tears escaping her eyes as she thanked Keith profusely, her spanish and english mingling.

“Of―of course! Lance had our backs just as often as we had his! He’s told us a lot about you, I’m― I’m honored to meet you!” Keith promptly flushed, he didn’t mean to say that much! But he did mean it, one hundred percent. Keith had only heard the highest praise about Lance’s family, and after only hearing about them all these years and not being able to meet them? Keith was, honest to King Alfor, flustered.

Lance’s mother blinked in genuine surprise, as did most of Lance’s family. The Black Paladin, leader of Voltron, someone who was literally the universe's only hope, was honored to meet… them?

There was a beat of silence, before Lance’s mother gently led Keith into a hug. Her squeeze was so feather light and maternal Keith could barely stop the wetness that gathered in his eyes, the warm and suffocating feeling that swarmed his stomach and wormed its way up to his lungs. This was everything Lance had described his mother’s hugs as, and at the same time, completely different.

The small woman in his arms laughed wetly, rubbing Keith’s back as if he was the one who hadn’t seen his son in six years. Which wasn’t helping his already swelling emotions.

“It’s our pleasure, mijo. Come, come! Bring the others!”

Lance smiled to himself as Keith smiled excitedly, waving the others over enthusiastically. His heart swelled, seeing all of the people he loved the most in one all together. All alive.

He’d make sure it stayed that way.

Masterlist

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld fandom #vld #vld shitpost #lance mcclain #lance voltron #keith voltron #keith kogane #klance #veronica mcclain #fic fragment #my writing #this didnt upload properly!!!#but its staying up per jackies wishes 😌#the actual chapter is uploaded

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dnightshade0 · 3 months

Text

Voltron: mama or papa? Part 2

After lance and Elena hear little Leandro say Quiznak, they are left wondering where exactly he heard that word.

They are at hunks house, sitting with all the paladins (shiro, hunk, Pidge and Keith) and talking about said incident.

Elena: I seriously can’t figure out where he even heard that word. Lance swears up and down that it’s wasn’t him.

Shiro: huh. who could it be then? Who have you left Leandro with?

Elena: well there’s you, there’s hunk, Pidge, coran…

Lance: don’t forget Keith.

Pidge: so basically, we all were around Leandro and any one of us could have taught him that word.

Elena: so it seems. Though honestly I can’t really imagine any of you had anything to do with it.

Lance: yeah, hunks too good a dad with his own kid, shiro’s always harped on us for using language, Pidge… ehh, Keith hasn’t even been around Leandro long enough for that word to come up in a conversation. Coran… maybe.

Elena: I’m leaning towards coran. He is altean and does use that word a lot.

While they were talking Keith is sitting nervously looking from lance to Elena.

(Cue flashback)

Lance: hay, I gotta go get some stuff out of the car, can you watch Leandro for me Keith?

Keith: wha? Me?! I-

Lance: thank man! BRB

Keith: NO WAIT! … Quiznak!

Leandro: … Quiznak!

Keith: !!! Oh no… uh hay, do me a favor, don’t go repeating that around your parents ok? Please?

Leandro: Quiznak!

Keith: nononono do NOT say that word. DO NOT!

Leandro: ……(giggles) K!

Lance: ok I’m back! Was Leandro good for you while I was gone?

Keith: … YES! Yes, he was very good. Very well behaved. Well I GTG SEE YEAH!

Then bolts out of there.

(End flashback)

Keith: yes, it totally had to be coran. Couldn’t have been anyone else… yep, I’m going with coran. 😓

——————————————————

Voltron mama or papa part 1 here

#voltron legendary defender #voltron #voltron lance #voltron keith #lance mcclain #lance #keith kogane #Keith #incorrect voltron quotes

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yudgefudge · 8 months

Note

MATE

I JUST CHECKED THE ITALIAN LEAGUE'S PLAYERS FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER, WHY THE BLOODY HELL IS LEANDRO PAREDEAS AND HIS MILLENNIAL LOOKING TEAMMATE HOT???

-🇬🇧, the Brighton supporter (I have their symbol on my trousers)

“MILLENIAL LOOKING TEAMMATE”

if so then you are right. Dybala and Paredes are very hot™️, anon. I’m glad you have discovered them. Welcome to l’Italia!!!

#if you need an Italian club to support…AC MILAN!!!#shitpost #football #🇬🇧 anon #or should I say #🏳️‍🌈 anon 🤨

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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months

Text

Keith knows, truthfully and entirely objectively, that his life has improved since he started dating Lance. Obviously. There is no disputing this fact if nature. His attitude has mellowed, his days are brighter, his nights are even better, his crops are watered his skin is clear et cetera et cetera. (Literally, on that last one, since Lance is sneaky with his product).

…However.

There are setbacks.

Like right now, where he’s been pushed so far to the edge of the bed that he’s actually holding his breath to avoid being squished against that wall like a new coat of paint. So.

He loves his boyfriend. Seriously. He’s slept more in the months they’ve been seeing each other than he has in his entire life combined, actually. It’s insane. There’s something about Lance pressed up against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his ribs, nose barely peeking above his shoulder to let in some air (seriously how does he do that; Keith has watched him and he has, like, maybe one nostril available for oxygen intake. The rest of his face is smooshed against Keith’s upper arm and pec. And he’s got the blanket up to his ears, too. Does Lance not need to breathe for long periods of time? Like a dolphin? Keith will have to ask) that just makes sleeping actually relaxing, for once. Like maybe he doesn’t have to stay half awake, like maybe he can actually trust himself to be safe in his own bed. It’s an incredible feeling, to finally feel well-rested in the mornings.

He does. However. Feel the ittiest, tiniest bit like he’s sleeping with a corset on. And being hydraulic pressed into the corner of the room. If he has to pick something to be nitpicky about, he means.

“Lance, c’mon,” he mutters, exhaling finally. Lance, who is mostly asleep based on the growing puddle of drool Keith feels wetting his sleep shirt, takes the opportunity to squeeze tighter like a goddamn python. “Can you move over a little bit? I’m up against the wall, I got no room to breathe —”

The human corset suddenly lets up, and Keith can breathe again.

So he does.

Perhaps a touch dramatically, with the bug gasping inhale or whatever.

(Look, he’s not perfect. He’s quite comfortable blaming Shiro’s influence, actually.)

“Thank you,” he huffs. He takes a few deep breaths, feeling the twinge in one of his ribs; tender from an injury he has yet to admit he has. (It’s fine. He checked. It’s barely even bruised mostly, he’s good. It’ll handle itself or become a Future Keith problem, so.) He curses under his breath as he stretches a bit, taking advantage of the space.

He frowns. “Wait, what?”

He sits up, confused as to why his spider monkey boyfriend is not in his immediate presence. It takes a second for his bleary eyes to adjust to the half-light of their bedroom, but eventually he manages and looks over and Lance is — Lance is on the goddamn floor. The blanket is with him. And four pillows.

“Lance.”

Keith bites his lip. This is either a bit or a very delicate situation, and if it’s the latter and he laughs then he’s very much in the doghouse, and for all his complaining he would much rather spend the night suffocating than alone. Much rather.

“Aw, Lance, come on.”

Unfortunately, his voice shakes, and he can’t quite tamp down his snorts and giggles, as much as he tries to muffle them.

Lance doesn’t speak, but Keith can almost physically taste his frown. His pout practically has its own atmosphere, it’s so potent.

“Hey.”

Keith gets to his knees, half-shuffling across the mattress. He leans over the edge, closer to Lance’s curled up form, and raises an eyebrow, amused. “Leandro. You are not being serious right now.”

The silence continues to grow. Keith can almost feel an actual chill, there’s so much iciness leaking from Lance right now.

(He also has the only blanket, but whatever. Tomato tomato.)

“Baby.”

“If you never want to sleep with me again that’s fine,” Lance says tersely. Keith rolls his eyes, head in his hands. “The floor is lovely. I’d rather be here than anywhere near your stinky mullet anyway.”

Keith sighs, long and heavy, steeling himself for the inevitable back pain he is going to have tomorrow morning. The things he does for love.

“You are the most dramatic man alive. Scoot over.”

Caught off guard, Lance uncurls, looking over at Keith in confusion.

Keith grins. “There are those pretty brown eyes.”

The pretty brown eyes in question are still squinted in suspicion, but Keith was expecting that. He moves as casually as he can manage, even trying his luck by humming something Lance was listening to earlier, picking up the edge of the blanket and sliding in behind his boyfriend, flat on the floor, arms winding around his waist and head bent at the junction of his shoulder. Lance is still tense, but allows Keith in his space, thankfully. Keith was half worried he’d stomp away to go sleep with Hunk.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Lance’s neck and lingering there, making his boyfriend shiver as his lips tickle his skin. “Didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Just feeling a little claustrophobic.”

Lance softens, but only barely. “You can tell me to back off, you know. I will.”

There’s still an undertone of hurt to his voice, a backing of insecurity. Keith tightens his grip, shaking his head.

“No. Don’t want that.”

Lance makes a frustrated noise. “Well, then what do you want, Mr. Mixed Signals?”

“You.” He traces an invisible line down the side of Lance’s neck with his mouth, kissing and biting slightly, relishing in every little twitch of Lance’s shoulders. “Duh.”

“No, not ‘duh’,” Lance argues, but his voice has gone weak. “You’re a pain in my ass. Do you want to be cuddled or not, Red?”

Bingo. Keith fights a smirk at the nickname, knowing he fails when Lance sighs, but the slide of his hands to rest on top of Keith’s bely his amusement, his fading irritation.

“Course I do,” Keith promises. His kisses the back of Lance’s neck again, but it’s softer this time; no underlying motives. An assurance, a promise. “I just. You know. Would also like twelve percent more space to inflate my lungs, if that’s okay.”

Lance snorts. Keith grins.

“You’re such a goober.”

“You’re the goober, actually. The pile of drool on my shoulder proves it.”

He feels more than sees Lance’s neck go red. Keith snickers. Lance hates when Keith brings up the drooling and for that he will literally never ever stop.

“I hope you wake up in agony.”

“Oh, I will, thanks to your hissy fit.”

Lance kicks his heel into Keith’s shin because he’s a shithead. Keith takes it without complaint because he’s the biggest whipped loser of all time and he’s well aware of it.

“We can go back to the bed, you know,” Lance offers eventually, although he makes no effort to move.

Keith yawns. “Nah.” He rests his head on the top of Lance’s spine, tangling their legs together. “I’m good where you are.”

———

based off this post

#i love writing them stupid and dramatic #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #established klance #insecure lance #fluff #domestic klance #dramatic keith #dramatic lance #whipped keith #brown eyed lance #my writing #fic #longpost

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longeyelashedtragedy · 9 months

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your wip collection is insanely wonderful. Arsenal crime au??? tell me when. also the locker room fic but, you know, no pressure.

my words (or any conjugation of them?): gentle, bloody, touch

thank you! so far i've really just talked about the crime AU with @colorsofmyseason and i don't yet know what role everyone has. mikel himself is this mysterious and menacing underworld figure and i don't think anyone even knows exactly what he does 👀 martin poisons people and aaron is a corrupt cop (as part of rob's Sad Backstory)

let's see...

gentle:

He’s fast. So Dejan moves fast, too. Fuck being a gentleman. If he was ever that, he hasn’t been for a long time now. He takes Šime by the shoulders, glancing at the big cross on his chest for a moment, and pushes him hard onto the bed. (mare liberum)

The door slams and Granit stares at his brother and his cousin.

“Are you high? I hope not. And put your fucking dick away. God.”

“Taulant.” Agon grabs Taulant’s arm, and his voice is shaking. “Be--be gentle. Okay?” (dangerous AU flashback chapter 2)

Sergio shrugs. “You can say whatever you want. Just, I’m not a very good…therapist. That’s Pilar’s thing.”

“What, because she’s a woman?” Shakira rolls her eyes. “Gerard always said he liked what an asshole you were. I don’t think I can say the same.”

“And I always felt that way about him,” Sergio admits. “But the kind of asshole he turned out to be? Nah, I’m an asshole, maybe, but I’m a gentleman too.” (revenge pegging!!!)

bloody:

And I get along with everyone, he adds.

The captain snorts. Oh, you do? Some of my men were talking. There was a fight down at one of the pubs. One of the men in the fight got beaten to a bloody pulp. They’re not sure if he lived. His eyes sweep over Dejan’s face. Show me your hands. (mare liberum)

somehow that's...it for 'bloody' from my WIPs? Dangerous AU has it in chapters already published hahaha

touch:

Who else would send Mason a video from an out-of-touch middle-aged-man angle with terrible lighting? ('bitter mutual cheating' fic...really could use a title lol)

“Yeah, I saw him kill a guy once, in Hamburg,” Xherdan offers. “I don’t think you should touch him.”

“You saw him WHAT???”

“Brozo, shut up, you can’t possibly not know this,” Luka says. “C’mon, Dejo. Show him what you got.” (mare liberum)

Mladen’s current favorite song is Touch the Sky, and he gets on the bus singing obnoxiously over his headphones:

“Testify, come up in the spot looking extra fly, for the day I die, Imma touch the SKY!”

Ivan sighs. He isn’t sure if he’s in the mood for Mladen today, but his friend slides into the seat Ivan’s left free for him, bumping their hips together on purpose. “What are you listening to?” He takes Ivan’s iPod instead of waiting for an answer. “Dude. You’ve been listening to this all week.” (ivan coming of age fic)

Christine's had her hair tied back and she takes it down and shakes it out around her shoulders as she looks away from the window. It is pretty hair, darker than his used to be, and she looks nice the way things in a museum look nice. You admire them without touching and then you leave them there. (10022...damn this fic must have some serious diversity of word choices...it keeps coming up)

Granit slips him another bundle of 100-euro notes. That gets him the right to put his hands on Angelo’s chest and touch his skinny stomach and little nipples. Sure, money can’t buy love, but Granit knows he’ll never have that anyway, and money can buy all the rest of it. (dangerous AU flashback 2)

And then Granit flips Leandro onto his stomach and kisses hot and wet up and down his spine and touches him less delicately than Kieran and Martin now do, but still with respect.

Mikel Arteta watches it all without a word, his dark eyes boring holes into his boyfriend and into Leandro. (leo's memories from criminals au)

Granit touches the back of Milot’s neck. This morning he had taken the chain from around his neck and given it to Milot. It was a gift from his uncle. He doesn’t need that anymore. And it’s a nice way for Milot to know he belongs to someone now. (another dangerous AU flashback)

Leandro is starving. He wishes there were a squatter in the building, a burglar, someone. Anyone. It would spoil him from the meal he plans for later, sure, but he’s feeling slightly light-headed, his skin cold even to his own touch. But the next human he’s likely to see is Rob, and he doesn’t wish to feed from him. (criminals AU)

“He is so smooth. Touch him Mikel, come on.”

At the feeling of his manager’s hand on his balls Martin’s face burns the color of their home kit. (xhakarteta X martin threesome that i've abandoned!)

“You have blood all over your face,” Granit comments.

“Yes. Don’t—don’t touch my face. I don’t want it on you.” (dangerous AU christmas chapter)

Šime flops into the passenger seat. He doesn’t want to be rude to Vanja, or make anything even more awkward. But it’s just that up here Luka’s cologne smells so strong and it would be so easy to reach over and just touch him while telling him he still thinks about being a Zadarska Dica with him just about every week. And he’s so bad at resisting temptation when he’s drunk. ("we light up the world, ancient luka/šime fic)

#thanksssss!!!!#purefractals #answered #fic saga

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karolinarodrigueswrites · 1 year

Text

Trying to return to this project to deal with my writer's block! Today I wrote 362 words, attempting to picture how Leandro and Abel's first meeting would be like in Hell Was Made in Heaven, mostly from an outsider POV. Here is a bit of it:

When questioned if he understood the repercussions of the pact with the hell hound, the boy looked up to the cop with empty eyes.

“You told me, every time, that I’m going back home. But this time I won’t be alone. I won’t have to call for any of you. I won’t have to wait for you. I won’t have to hope things will be different.”

A low and deep growl echoed through the room, starting from where the dog god lied at the boy’s feet, and its lack of health did nothing to lessen the threat of violence in its eyes as it understood people with some kind of power had repeatedly taken Leon away from the abuse, just to send him back to it.

#kr writes #hwmihwip #writeblr #a drabble a day project #excerpt

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ninjaneonleon · 8 months

Text

A Matter of Identity

Start

They weren’t sure where they were. They weren’t sure who they were either. Was she Donnie? Or was he Odette? Were they a swan or a turtle?They weren’t sure anymore. They just knew that they were safe in the Lake. The Lake would protect them. They didn’t need to ever leave.

A hand closed around their wrist. They opened their eyes, their vision swimming with water and white feathers.

A black swan, a turtle was staring at them. The other had a soft expression, understanding and loving. They knew they this other was special to them.

Twin. This was their twin.

“Donnie.” “Odette.” The twin spoke with two voices, layered and overlapping like a harmony in their favourite melody. “It’s time to come home.”

Home. What was home? Home was where they were safe. Home was where they were comfy and safe and protected. Home was the Lake, right? But then, the other said it was time to go home. Where was home?

Maybe home wasn’t a place, but a person. Yes, that felt right. Home could be a person, could be people. Home was the place where they felt most loved. Home wasn’t in the Lake. Home was somewhere else.

Donnie kicked his legs. Odette flapped her wings. They pushed towards the surface, following their twin, their home.

Othello broke the surface of the water, clinging to their twin. They knew something was wrong, something was missing, but they didn’t know what.

“I’ve got you, Othello,” Leandro murmured, keeping Othello afloat. “It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s almost over.”

What was almost over? What were they forgetting?

“It’s harder for you to remember right now because you’ve been here so long, Othello. But the Lake is letting us go. We just have to release it,” Leandro explained, flapping their wings and pulling Othello out the water. When they landed, they stood on the surface once more. “You need to let go. It’s scary and it feels like it’s wrong, but trust me. It’s time to come home.” Leandro smiled and cupped Othello’s cheeks. “It’s time for you both to come home. I’m not afraid anymore, Odette.” That voice was more feminine. “And I know that I’m strong enough to protect you, Donnie.” That voice was more masculine. But both voices belonged to Leandro, Othello’s twin. “So come home to us, okay?”

Othello didn’t know what they needed to do, but they knew they wanted to just hold their twin. Leandro was too far away and Othello’s limbs were heavy and tired. They pushed forwards, reaching out. It felt like they were being torn apart. But they couldn’t stop. They couldn’t leave their twin. They needed to hold their twin. Donnie needed to hold Leo. Odette needed to protect Odile. They needed their twin.

Donnie gasped as he felt something rip away from him. He collapsed into Leo’s waiting arms, panting and shivering. What had just happened?

“There you are, there’s my twin,” Leo cooed, stroking Donnie’s shell sweetly. “It’s okay, Donnie. I’ve got you.”

“O-Odette?” Donnie rasped out.

Leo chuckled softly. He nodded off to the side. “She’s got her hands full. Odile is feeling very clingy after that whole revelation.”

Donnie took a breath, then looked over. Odette, in all her shimmery, spiritual glory, was standing nearby. She was small, as short as Mikey at least, and she looked younger than Donnie had realised. Maybe twelve or thirteen at most. Her skin was almost pure white, like her feathers, and she had hints of purple accents in her dress.

She was crying, clinging to another child. That had to be Odile. Odile’s skin was such a dark brown they were almost as black as their feathers. Their blue eyes though, were piercing and vivid, even if they swam with tears. Their dress of black feathers had blue undertones but red accents. They were curled around Odette, being maybe an inch or two taller. They were looking so much older than Odette but at the same time, so young and scared.

“We did it, Dee. We brought them back together,” Leo murmured, his wings flapping a little as they puffed up. “And now we can all go home.”

Wait, wings?

“You still have wings.” Donnie’s voice hurt but he was determined to speak. His voice sounded different to how it had recently, but he couldn’t place why.

“So do you. Turns out some things didn’t change back.” Leo squeezed Donnie gently.

“Well done, my child.” A raspy voice echoed around the lake. It made Donnie’s skin prickle. Leo went tense, so tense it looked almost painful. “You’ve done exactly as I’ve asked. I’m so proud of you.”

In an instant, Leo span around and spread his wings, shielding not only Donnie but Odette and Odile from view. He let out an angry hiss and his black feathers puffed up, almost standing on end.

“I’ve done nothing for you. Leave my family alone.”

Donnie peered around Leo, trying to find the source of the voice. A large crow sat perched on his and Leo’s willow tree. Its cold red eyes stared hungrily down at them all.

On the shore, Donnie saw his brothers, his dad and Barry all knocked out. Had the Crow done that? If Donnie wasn’t feeling so weak, he’d already be on the offensive.

“But you have, my child.” Leo shuddered, his breathing getting heavier as the Crow spoke. “You’ve released the treasure from the Lake so I am finally able to claim it for myself.”

Leo took a shaky breath. “You won’t touch them. You won’t lay a single feather on any of them,” he growled.

“I won’t have to,” said the Crow. It flapped its wings and the branches of the willow tree shot forwards, wrapping themselves around Leo and pulling him towards the shore. Leo screamed and struggled but couldn’t break free. “I don’t need to hunt down my treacherous daughters myself. That’s why I have you.”

———————

Woo! Part 10 is done! And you thought this story was done? Not yet. I have ✨ideas✨ that I’m working on.

Edit: part 11

Swanatello belongs to @tangledinink

Crownardo belongs to @dryad-druid

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fic writing #crownardo #swanatello

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mourningmaybells · 1 year

Text

Leandro and Toyang are the only people who understand each other in how they wanted to belong to something greater than themselves in a form that resembles a family so bad it makes/made them look pathetic and had cost the lives of their family and that’s exactly why they want to tear each other’s dicks off

“rip to you and your blind faith but I’m different” (did the same thing in a different font)

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kosi-annec · 2 years

Text

PRIDE PROMPT: Nature

The boy hunched over, his claws sharp and his eyes focused, the branches swayed as the wind blew. He was not gonna let his prey slip away from him again. This time he had the high ground. Literally.

The branches swayed the second time. He ignored it, he wasn’t gonna let this distract him. He composed his stance, not taking his eyes off of his prey as he readied to pounce.

If someone was dumb enough to go on a stroll in the middle of the woods tonight and somehow stumble upon the tree he was on, that would be quite the scare for the unlucky soul. To barely see some figure in the trees, with yellow eyes glowing in the dark, and who looks ready to attack; any weak-hearted soul would faint at the sight.

He waited, and waited, and waited…

Then he pounced.

Jumping off of the tree he was on, the predator dived in for the attack. I’m going to do it, I’m going to catch the damn annoying thing—

And before he even realized it, he landed face first, his prey nowhere to be seen. Successfully escaping his grasp.

“DAMN IT!! I almost had it!”

The boy lifted his head and yelled in a fit of rage and annoyance, pounding his fist into the soil beneath him. I must’ve jumped too soon, he thought as he sat up cross-legged, pouting at the fact he didn't catch his prey.

“Now, now, Leandro,” a man said, giving an air of calm and wisdom, “there is no need to yell.” He had seemed to appear out of nowhere, kneeling down to the boy’s height. Leandro isn't surprised, however.

“I know, I know. Patience yields focus and what not,” he rolled his eyes at the quote. Leandro scrambled up onto his feet, dusting off the dirt from his clothes and then wiping off some of the dirt that was on his face.

He heard a deep chuckle come from his master, then he felt a hand rub the crown of his head, messing up his hair.

“Come on, let’s go home,” the older witch said. He turned around and started to walk back onto the old path of the woods. Leandro walked along with him.

“Next time, you will catch it.”

The witch smiled at him, and Leandro promptly smiled back.

#pride month #pridewrite2022 #pridewrite #pw alt6 #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writers of tumblr #my ocs #jeez this is bad #predatory nature #bit of a stretch but eh #this was kind of half-assed #lit vomit

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seirenqxx · 2 years

Text

FORBIDDEN PLEASURE | SANZU HARUCHIYO

She's a empress, he's a criminal. She wants peace, he brings disaster. She's a serious one, he's a player. What will happen when these two meet?

CHAPTER ONE

"The white villagers have complained several times about the bandits attacking them. Sacks of rice and vegetables were stolen. What action shall we take, Your Majesty?" Apollo asked as he stood in front of us.

The emperor took a deep breath then looked at me so I expected him to ask me but I was wrong.

"What do you think is the best solution for this, Cassandra?" I bit my lower lip and sighed.

"Me? I don’t know if my opinion will work." Cassandra said modestly and the emperor laughed as he looked at her.

"I fixed the problem in spain because of you so I'm sure the solution you thought of will work. Right, my empress?" He looked at me so I smiled a little.

"ahehe. Thank you, your majesty." I resumed my meal while listening to Cassandra’s suggestions.

I wanted to talk about the problem but I chose to remain silent because he had the emperor’s attention. I'm right here, his wife and queen of the empire but he preferred the opinion of the woman he had just met.

"Mama," I looked at Leander when he called me. His small palm rested on my thigh.

"You have sauce on the side of your lip." I said while smiling then wiped the edge of his lip with a white paper towel.

"Why is papa always with that woman? You're his wife, right?" He asked using his small cute voice.

I was surprised by his question but I smiled and held his head. "His Majesty acknowledged her skills so they fixed the problem in the empire together."

"Hmm? But you should be the one doing it and not her." My eyes blinked a few times before I laughed softly.

"You're still young so you shouldn't be bothering with things like that, Leander." I turned to Eros who was sitting at the end of the table and he was busy listening to Cassandra.

"I know I’m young but I can already understand the things going on around me, mama." I bit my lower lip because I didn’t know what to answer to my son.

He's smart, isn't he? He's only five years old but his brain is advanced.

"Leandro, I'm going to the white village with aunt Cassandra, do you want to come?" Eros asked his son while smiling but Leander shook his head.

"No, I will stay with mom." He replied then stood up in the chair. He bowed his head slightly to Eros before he walked away.

"Prince Leander is as serious as ever." Said Apollo while laughing.

I wiped my lips with tissue paper before I stood up to follow my son. "Excuse me, your majesty." I said politely before walking away.

Even though I didn't admit it to myself, I was jealous of that woman. A week ago, the emperor returned from spain with a woman. Since then, I have always heard the servants talking about them.

They're always together. I didn’t pay attention to that thing but my chest aches when I hear about them. Since she arrived, the emperor has not asked me about the possible solution to the empire's problem as he always did.

It's as if I'm useless to him and I'm hurt because of that. I did everything to be a crown princess and then I could easily be replaced by a woman like her.

I was walking down the hallway to Leander’s room when I saw Lily running towards me. "Your highness, Lady Charlotte is here. She's in the garden." She said while panting.

"Please find Leander, Lily. Send him to the garden when you see him." I commanded and she nodded immediately.

I walked again into the garden. I don't know what that woman needs but it's good that she came here, I need someone to talk to. There are a lot of things on my mind right now.

I immediately saw Charlotte sitting on the bench when I got to the garden. "Why every time I see you you always look stressed?" I sighed and sat down next to her. "Is it because of that woman?"

I shook my head. "I can't do anything even if I don't like her, Eros wants to keep Cassandra in the palace."

"You two are married, act like husband and wife."

"What will I do? Even though we are both rulers of the empire, he will still be obeyed."

Charlotte leaned back on the bench and took a deep breath. "I have a reason why I came here."

"Hmm? What reason?" she turned to me and her face was serious. "I'm scared of how you look, Charlotte. I have a lot of problems so please don't add more." I said jokingly.

"This is serious, Gaia. I came here because I was worried."

"What kind of problem is that, then?" I asked and she stared at me for a moment before answering.

"2 days ago, Sanzu went to my house." I averted my eyes when I heard his name.

"Oh? Good and no police go to your house because you have a connection with a known criminal."

"I thought for a few days if I should tell you about that. He's looking for your son, Gaia." It was as if a lot of ice water had been poured on me because of what I had heard.

I immediately turned to Charlotte in shock and nervousness. "How did he know that?"

"I don't know, but one thing is for sure. He's ready to destroy everything just to get your child."

"You're kidding, right?" I tried to smile but my lips trembled with fear.

"I know sometimes I'm crazy but I don't joke about things like that. Leander is the next king of the empire so I'm worried for him and for you, not because of Sanzu but because of Eros." She said seriously. "You know what I mean, Gaia."

My whole body trembled even more because of what she said. I'm scared. My son, he can't be involved in the problem I'm in. When Eros finds out that Leander is not his real son, he will definitely kill him.

"I need to find a way to fix it. Leander can't be involved in this mess."

Charlotte left immediately after we talked but my brain was still floating even a few hours ago when she left. It became even more chaotic, when Eros finds out that Sanzu is Leander's father, he will kill my son.

That can't happen.

I sat on the garden bench while looking up at the sky. I need to breathe fresh air so I can think clearly, if I can't solve it, I will lose what I have worked for.

"I forgot you for a long time, why do you have to come back and bother me again?" I sighed but immediately frowned when I saw Leander running towards the back of the mansion.

I immediately stood up on the bench to follow him. Dark woods are behind the mansion so why is he going there? I was near the back of the mansion when I heard his voice.

"I want to make a way for that woman to stay away from papa."

"Hmm? Why? What did that woman do and why are you so mad at her?"

"She was always with dad. Ever since she came, mama has always been hurting."

My forehead furrowed when I heard a man's voice. I’m sure it wasn’t from Leander because it was too deep.

"You don't want to see your mom hurt?"

"Of course! She's my mom, and you told me not to let papa make her cry, didn't you?"

"Oh yeah? It's good that you remember what I told you."

"I-"

"Baby, who are you talking to?" I peeked at him behind the wall but my eyes widened when I saw who the man was with him. "What the fuck.."

"It's good to see you again, my queen." The man with the scar on the side of his lip grinned so fear enveloped my whole body.

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