#among long blades of grass

[yuelun]

Tag drop #2: Character things and dynamics (more will be added).

#[ visage. ] maybe a long time ago; there were gods gentle by nature. those who protected their people and walked among them. #[ meta. ] her manuscripts still lie unfinished in her abode. the blank pages give one cause for contemplation on what might have been. #[ mini study. ] she always sought to make everyone happy and one must say: she had quite the gift for it. #[ essence. ] although she did not live to see the splendid sights of today: she was as much a hero as any other. #[ mortals. ] at their full potential; they could be her equal. a human who could have as much to teach an adeptus as to learn from them. #[ guili plains. ] as guizhong once said: “it takes every blade of grass and every flower to make a homeland.” #[ liyue. ] perhaps she will look at the liyue of today and steal a smile when she sees the prosperous land that it has become. #[ sea of clouds. ] “whether anyone tends to it these days; i do not know. -- alright then. that is where i shall go tomorrow.” #[ mechanical arts. ] in one's heart; i knew that she was indeed the superior talent in the mechanical arts. #[ glaze lilies. ] they were far more abundant back then. entire fields of them would appear to the eye as a veritable sea of flowers. #tag drop #[ morax. ] whoever it was that revered her so much was very clever indeed. #[ guili: archoniic. ] with shortness of breath; i'll try to explain the infinite. how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist. #[ osial. ] she would disrupt the silence around them with a hum; as if to sing along to the harmony of the water. was this his song? #[ marchosius. ] who would dare snub the stove god and his wondrous creations? at the sight of him: we would all drop any argument. #[ streetward rambler. ] it almost felt like she was back again. sitting right there on the stone stool next to me; chatting away. #[ cloud retainer. ] we each had our ideals; and neither one of us would yield to the other. #[ sea gazer. ] he could be quite the braggart when it came to those collectibles he was so fond of; he always loved to show them off. #[ skybracer. ] to who lived by the mountain; he was their savior. in fact; they thought higher of him than they thought of the lord of geo. #[ ganyu. ] if we planted flowers in the guili plains; do you think that one day we'd be able to recreate the sea of glaze lilies? #[ adepti. ] until the moon set and the sun rose; and only then would the banquet finally come to an end.

[undertheorangetree]

Pomegranate Seeds

Summary- A retelling of the abduction of Persephone.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Hades and Persephone AU. Star-crossed lovers vibes. Uncle/niece incest. Making out. Angst. Fluff. Titty sucking. Handjob. Cunnilingus. Vaginal fingering. Soft smut. Mild praise kink. Mildly OOC Aemond.

Author's Notes- Yeah I was a Percy Jackson/Greek mythology kid, thank you for noticing. I'm still playing incredibly fast and loose with the mythology tho so we're gonna have to make our peace with that. This is a beast btw, it's like 9.6K and you can find the rest on AO3 with the link below :)

divider created by @firefly-graphics

It is moments like these, she thinks, that she loves most.

Alone in the meadow, surrounded by wildflowers, the babbling of the creek as it flows over the rocks. Everything green with the exception of the purple, white, and yellow flowerheads but lush and everbearing and alive, the sun little more than a hazy warm glow, not yet hot enough to be overbearing. It is peaceful here, so much more than she is used to. She had come to an agreement with her step sisters, Baela and Rhaena, that they allow her a few hours on her own in this meadow, undisturbed by anyone else. Though her mother much preferred to that she remain alongside her sisters whenever she is out of sight, she, Baela, and Rhaena had come to an agreement that what her mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. And besides, they were never too far away from her. Being water nymphs, they could be by her side in less than a moment if she really needed them, so long as she doe does not stray too far from the river. And she has never been more grateful for it than she is right now.

Stretching her arms high above her head, she stretches out along the grass, enjoying the feeling of every blade of grass, the sweet smell of the blooms wafting on the breeze. Admittedly, this meadow had not been quite so plentiful when they had found it, following along the winding river, but she is the goddess of spring. Flowers bloom at her word and sun shines with her will. It had not been too difficult to turn this meadow into her own personal paradise, away from the chaos often wrought by her mother and brothers and stepfather.

There is a sudden change in the wind that causes her to sit up. Colder than it had been before, something more akin to winter than spring. The ground seems to rumble beneath her, shaking as if the sudden cold has sent it to shiver. Curiously, she turns her head toward the tree line, where the birches and willows keep the meadow shielded from view, only to find a man standing among them. Dressed in all black- breeches, cloak, and the shred of his tunic she can see beneath it- his platinum hair is almost jarring in contrast. He is not a big man, long and lithe, but there is an air to him that feels dangerous, dangerous enough to give her pause. He has not noticed her yet, face turned away, but she can see the long, stern plains of his face from where she sits, looking incredibly serious. That seriousness is only exacerbated by the dark leather eyepatch covering the eye closest to her, a deep red scar carved beneath it.

She does not think she has ever seen anyone here before, not outside of Baela, Rhaena, and herself, and his presence here is almost incongruous. Still, there is an air about him, one that makes it clear that he is a god just as she is, and that alone should make his surprise appearance less shocking.

“Hello.”

The sound of her voice seems to catch him off guard. Quickly, he turns toward her, shoulders tense, but they relax when he takes her in. She cannot imagine that she is intimidating, sitting flat in the grass all alone. “Hello.”

But it is that reminder of the grass that brings her pause. What is this man doing here? Where had he come from? It is not as if this meadow is easy to find, hidden amongst the trees as it is. She feels her brows furrow, head cocking in question. “How did you find this place?”

She had not put a glamour over this meadow, but she did not feel she had too. The forest, though light and airy, was a labyrinth of trees that seemed deterrent enough to keep any unwanted guests away. They were incredibly difficult to find your way through and she had been convinced it would be impossible to try- for God or mortal.

Near impossible, it seemed then.

His eye darts back to the treeline, taking half a step back. “If I am intruding, I can leave.”

“No.” She says it far too quickly and she can see the way his eyebrows raise in response to it, but she can’t find it in her to be ashamed. She is intrigued by this man, more so than she likely should be, and finds she wants to know more. To learn how he came to find this place. “Just because this place is unknown does not mean it is mine alone. You may stay. Beauty like this should be enjoyed.”

“Wise words,” he agrees, coming toward her. He hesitates at the end, torn on whether or not to truly join her, but it seems courtesy wins out as he lowers himself to the ground, joining her amongst the flowers. He looks entirely out of place, black against the blooms, but she says nothing, keeping her observation to herself.

They sit in absolute silence but she does not mind. He sits stiffly, as if uncomfortable, while she continues to take in all that is around her. From here, she can see the way the willows sway with the wind, the white puffy clouds floating by in the soft blue sky.

“I did not mean to,” he says. She looks at him, head tilted once again. “To find this place. It was not my intention. Though I admit I have never seen anything quite like it.”

She smiles, though he could not possibly know that he had complimented her. “It is a rare thing.”

“It feels almost as if it were from a painting,” he adds, looking around the meadow to take it in further.

She joins him in it, finding no shame in admiring her own work. It is a pretty place, though that had always been her intention. Olympus was beautiful in and of itself, but it was stark in that way. Ethereal and otherworldly, but cosmopolitan. Bright white marble, painted statues, stained glass. Everything beautiful, to be sure, but not in the untamed way that she seemed to crave. She preferred the beauty that was found in nature, in heavy branches filled with green leaves, tall grasses and wildflowers and crystalline waters.

“Do you know much about art?” she asks to fill the silence.

He seems caught off guard again from her question, but answers it anyway. “Not as much as I would like, but I can appreciate the beauty in something as well as any man. Though do not tell anyone. It would ruin my reputation.”

She laughs. “You needn’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Which periods do you prefer?”

They talk for hours, the conversation unfurling as naturally as a bird’s wing. Art, history, philosophy. There is no subject they do not indulge in. He becomes less awkward with time as he grows more comfortable around her and she almost pulls a laugh from him not once, but twice. It seems quite the feat, for a man as serious as this one seems to be, though she does not let her pride get the better of her. When she asks him how she managed to find her well kept secret, he had simply said that one always finds the best things when you are not looking for them. A non answer, but that was alright. She was sure she could coax the answer from him eventually.

“Forgive me, I never asked you your name,” she says after what must have been hours, half appalled by her lack of manners.

He does not seem to mind, a good natured half smile making its way onto his face. “My friends call me Aemond. You may as well.”

It is not uncommon, for Gods to prefer more earthly names. She is often the same. There is power within a name and for such an innocent encounter, she does not feel the need to have him call her Persephone or Kore or any of those that strike some rumination of power and fear. So she gives him her common name, the one she feels is more true to who she is, and he smiles in response to it, repeating it back to her as if to test it. She likes the way it sounds when he says it, the way each letter seems to roll off him tongue, and somehow hearing him say the word alone is enough to make her flush.

She turns her head to hide it and only then notices that the sun has dipped below the trees, leaving the sky a hazy orange. Her mother will be expecting her home soon and there is no telling how poorly she will react if Rhaena and Baela return home without her. She doesn’t doubt that Rhaenyra will send her great serpent Syrax after her should she be even a moment late.

“I have to go,” she says, unable to keep the apologetic tone from her voice.

Reluctantly, she stands, brushing the dirt from her skirts. His lips had parted at her announcement, but now he ducks his head in an understanding nod. She smiles at him, not truly wanting to go yet, and makes her way toward the creek to call upon her sisters to come and fetch her. She does not make it two steps before he is calling after her.

“Can I see you again?”

She turns back to look at him. The insecurity on his face does not seem to match his features, looking almost out of place there. Still, she finds it entirely endearing and she realizes that she would absolutely like to see him again.

“Yes,” she agrees softly.

“Tomorrow?”

She does not bother to fight the smile itching its way onto her face. “Yes.”

He matches her smile then before standing. He comes forward and takes her hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips and placing a chaste kiss there. “Then I shall see you on the morrow, my lady.”

She can do nothing but hope he does not notice how hot her face has become.

“On the morrow.”

Read the rest here

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen smut #aemond smut #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon

[undiscovered-horizon]

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[Just a sunny afternoon with bear Halsin. What more can a heart desire?]

Halsin claims that sleeping in his bear form provides better rest. Whether that is true or not, you have no way to know. But no matter what the truth is, the druid comes out the winner anyway: he's lightly napping, drifting in and out of slumber, while you're leaning against him.

For the past week, it's been raining on and off. Cold wind nipped at your skin, even sneaking its way into your tent and making sure you shuddered uncomfortably for an hour or two before finally falling asleep. Nighttime storms left you carrying drenched clothes for long hours.

But today, the weather is exceptionally nice. Warm sunlight is peeking through the crowns of the tall trees. Wind, much gentler than for the past few days, is only strong enough to make long blades of grass sway from side to side. Even birds seem to enjoy the change - their melodic songs are carried by the forest's echo.

Halsin and you have decided to spend your day off from travelling in a small gathering. Although your companions-turned-friends are a delightful bunch, the rather crowded camp doesn't allow much liberty in terms of intimacy. Not to mention the sheer noise of so many people going about their day, cramped in one place...

The woods are as silent as nature can be - filled with rustling, birdsong, chirping and chirring. It's the whispering of nature, Silvanus himself enjoying the chatter of his creations. On days as pleasant as today, it wouldn't be too far-fetched to think that he's wandering among the trees, checking in on things, so to speak.

Your back is leaning against Halsin's massive bear frame. With each of his sleepy, shallow breaths, your entire body is moving along them. Every now and then, he lets out a snore and you can't help the loving smile curling your lips. When was the last time he was allowed so much peace?

Dry paper rustles as you turn over the page. Your voice resounds in this part of the woods as you continue reading aloud the book you found just a few days ago. It's a typical, run-of-the-mill court drama but written well enough to have you thinking about something other than the rather unwelcome guest squirming inside your skull.

But the tale of prudish ladies and cunning servants is suddenly brought to a halt as you yawn and stretch your arms. It's been at least an hour or two since Halsin and you have sat down.

The bear underneath you opens one of his eyes curiously. His careful gaze studies your visibly tired face.

"Lay with me, my heart," he says in a groggy voice. There is nothing pressuring about his tone but you feel so enticed to fulfil his words that you don't have the mind to argue against.

Soon you find yourself lying on the ground, cuddled into the side of a bear. Which, by itself, sounds quite funny. And you do chuckle quietly but not because you find the situation humours - no, it's the all-consuming cosiness that makes you uncharacteristically giddy. His fur is thick and soft, as though a moment of distraction could cause you to fall into him.

Halsin, consciously or not, shift his bear body to engulf you a little more. Although a frame of that size is awkward to manoeuvre, he tries to fit his body around your curled-up physique. If it wasn't for the absolutely crushing weight of his wildshape form, Halsin would probably lay himself on top of you to satiate his desire to take care of you.

For the first time in long weeks, snuggled up to a snoring bear, you feel content and safe.

___

I have thought about having a nap with bear Halsin like two weeks ago and that thought has not left ever since. Actually, I think it's already built a house in my head.

#halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x you #halsin fanfiction #halsin imagine #halsin fanfic #halsin bg3 #bg3 #bg3 halsin #halsin #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfic #bg3 imagine #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #bg3 x tav #bg3 fluff #halsin fluff

[ivi-ivisek]

FNAF DCA The tree and the frog AU

Sun and Moon are one of the oldest maybe even the oldest spirits of nature, meaning that they are also the most powerful among their kind. Sun and Moon were not brothers but very good friends who share forest and shore, bonded for as long as they've existed, helping one another to take care and protect their lands and everything that lives in there. They remember times when humans foraged and hunted in their domains with spears and arrows

But time's changed. humans slowly deviated from old wasy and start loosing the conection with nature. But that was fine maybe there was a rulebreaker or two but it was fine. They dealt with rulebreakers accordingly and they were more than happy to guide those who wnated to follow the old ways.

Sun and Moon raised many generations, taught them all necessities to survive and be one with nature. They used to be highly respected by humans. But it was getting worse and worse. Humans become greedy, selfish, arrogant, thinking that they can do and take whatever they want.

Moon become more aggresive and less generous and forgiving. For him all humans were the same - corrupted, too much to be helped. He thought that it would be better if all humans were gone. So what if he just wipe them off... Sun and Moon argued a lot about this. Sun agreed that rulebreakers have to be punished but what Moon was doing wasn't about punishing anymore, it was just hatred towards humans. One day they had very serious quarrel over what Moon did so they stopped talking to each other.

The old-time friendship is now broken, will it ever heal? Maybe with a little help things may get better. Only time will tell....

Hejkal/Leshy Sun

The guardian and ruler of the forest

Commands all flora and fauna of his forest

Shapeshifter - can change into any local forest flora or fauna and change his size to be either as small as a blade of grass or as tall as a tree

Vodník/Vodyanoy Moon

The guardian and ruler of the waters

Commands all flora and fauna of his waters

Shapeshifter - Can change into any local aquatic or semiaquatic creature

#fnaf dca au #the tree and the frog au #dca the tree and the frog au #fnaf moon #fnaf sun #leshy sun #hejkal sun #vodník moon #vodyanoy moon #slavic folklore #slavic mythology #digital art #my art #character reference

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Brave [7 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: The pack regroups after the deadly assault in the pass.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse, Fighting, Monsters, Animal Death, Violence, Mildly described gore

A/N: thank you all forever and ever for bearing with me as i struggle through writer’s block! i’m afraid you all won’t be happy with the results of this chapter, but i hope you have enough faith in me to stick it out and see what happens. as always, reblogs and feedback of all kinds are appreciated and always welcome!

When Steve attempts to pull the reins from your trembling hands you hold on tightly, fighting him. 

“Easy, Sweetmeat. Easy.”

The torchlight is warm and welcome in the gray mist, and by its light you can see the extent of the damage. Your hands are caked with blood and dirt, your nails raw and split. You raise a trembling hand to your chest and wince. There are wounds here too, matching claw marks like the ones you know now mark the space between your shoulder blades. 

They stretch from the base of your throat down between your breasts, cut cleanly through the ragged fabric of your dress. softness. Steve repeats it as he looses them from your grip, peeling each of your fingers back gently, until you are forced to release the bloody leather from your trembling hands. The pass is far behind, now, lost somewhere in the mist, but you fear it still, your wide, terrified eyes searching the gloom. For the sun, for more nameless horrors—

In the dark angry sky, you find neither. 

Perhaps it is morning, perhaps not—there is no sun by which to tell, no light peeking from behind the furious, roiling clouds.

Steve dismounts, landing beside the horse with a wet thud. You join him and grimace as you sink into the muck up to your calves. The ground is slick, thick with mud that sucks at your boots. The grass sea is pock marked with patches of lightning-scorched earth, patterning what little you can see in the gloomy twilight—some are bigger around than your father’s house. Above, thunder rumbles, and you watch massive bolts of lightning twist across the sky in a burning arc, lighting ablaze the distant hills where it strikes. 

Would this path have been any better? You eye the storm’s path of destruction across the sea. No, you decide, watching again as lightning cuts through the dark sky. Where there is death, there will always be death.

Steve produces a torch from his gore-stained saddlebags. He lights it, holding it aloft. The firelight is warm and welcome in the gray mist, and by its light you can see the extent of the damage. Your hands are caked with blood and dirt, your nails raw and split. You raise a trembling hand to your chest and wince. There are wounds here too, matching claw marks like the ones you know now mark the space between your shoulder blades. They stretch from the base of your throat down between your breasts, cut cleanly through the ragged fabric of your dress. 

“To me!” Steve bellows, the depth of his voice trembling in your chest. “To me!” Slowly, the pack begins to reform. Out of the darkness they come, circling the flame like lost moths. You are overcome with relief to see Carol among them. Beneath her, her steed trembles, the gash along its flank bleeding sluggishly.

So few. You cannot help but take stock of those who gather, dismounting their horses to stand before Steve. So few. The pack had been intimidatingly large before. Perhaps fifty, sixty riders strong—the ones who remain number less than forty. Steve knows it too, you can see it in the grim set of his jaw.

“Where is Bucky?” A murmur passes through the pack, but no one answers. For the first time, in Steve’s bright blue eyes, you see fear. You search for Bucky’s face amongst the survivors, your chest tightening as the realization dawns cold and clear—

You do not see him. After a long while, someone finally speaks. 

“He fell.” Carol steps forward, her head low. You watch Steve’s entire body go taut. He shakes his head, his brows knitting together in angry disbelief. 

“No.” 

 “I saw him.” She looks up, and her eyes are bright and wet. “He fell.” The wind whistles through the grass in the silence. “He fell.”

For a moment, Steve’s free hand rests upon the hilt of his sword, squeezing the pommel as if beset by foes a second time, but he releases it, clenching his fist. When he does speak, his voice is cold, devoid of anything but authority. 

“Then we will light his way to our ancestors.” The light of the torch does not seem to reach his eyes, which are shrouded, and dark. “We will light the way for all of them.” 

The fire is weak, at first, sputtering dangerously as you all feed it bundles of wet kindling. It catches, eventually, the light rain fizzling out as it meets the flames. Steve’s face is stone, dark and unchanging as he watches the flames grow tall. 

You are no stranger to mourning, to grief. Those who remain surround the fire, and their sorrow is yours too. The pass had claimed many who were kind to you, who had accepted you—

Gone. 

A young female Orc approaches the fire. Her face is bandaged roughly, and the edges of the long wound peek out on either side of the dressing. In one hand she holds a shield. Her hands are steady, but her voice trembles as she speaks. 

“Arun.” She tosses the shield into the fire. “May—” Tears choke her for a moment, and she swallows roughly. “May you find your way.” Others approach the flames, some weeping, others stoic and distant, speaking the names of those they have lost into the fire. 

“Jonai.”

“Huth.” 

“Karali.”

So many, many names. 

“May you find your way.” 

You do not know the Orc traditions for mourning, but you know your own. You have lifted your voice in song for your mother’s memory more times than you can count, praying that the crows will carry the notes high into the heavens, to her ear so that she might know that you have not forgotten her. You have no name to add to the fire, but this—this you can do. So too will you mourn for the pack, for the ones who have fallen. 

The words are slow to come at first, reluctant to leave your lips. It is not long, however, before they remember the familiar shape of these melodies; before they remember how to name your grief. So you do—you name it there, before the fire. You feed it your grief, like—and unlike—the rest of the pack. They gather behind you as you sing, bowing their heads. The song catches in your throat, the words faltering on your tongue at the sight of them.

“Finish it.” You turn back, and there is Steve, stood before the fire. He is close enough to touch it, a torn quiver held tightly in one hand. “Finish it and guide them home.” He tosses in the scrap of leather as you finish, his voice consumed almost entirely by the sound of crackling flames, and the last echoing notes of your own parting gift—

“Bucky.”

to be continued…

next

#cevans #cevans fandom #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers au #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers smut #mcu fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fic #fantasy au #dark fantasy #boxofbonesfic #brave fic

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Aftermath || LN4 {9}

Pairing: Lando Norris x widow!reader Summary: Lando risks upsetting the FIA to give you the memorial they denied a year ago. Warnings: 18+ only, alcohol, fluff, tearful Lando 🥺 WC: 2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten || Eleven || Twelve || Thirteen || Epilogue

“Ride with us!”

You frowned down at Lando’s grinning face from the balcony above the garage thinking you had heard him wrong. “What?”

He pointed to the grid where the trailer for the parade was hooked up and waiting. “You too, maman.”

Maria squeezed your arm with a smile as she turned towards the stairs. “Let’s not keep them waiting.”

Lando met you at the bottom, his arm curling around your waist as he guided you to the gate at the back while Zak walked with Maria. His lips brushed your cheek as he dipped his head to whisper, “Think something’s going on with those two?”

You smiled at the sound of Maria’s laugh and shrugged. “I don’t know, but as long as she’s happy then it’s got to be a good thing.”

Lando’s hands gripped your waist and lifted you into the back of the trailer before he leapt up to join you. It was only once you had taken hold of the rail tightly that you spared a glance around the other drivers and noticed they all carried wreaths.

“What’s that?”

Lando shrugged shyly as he stepped in behind you, one hand holding the rail with you and the other waving to the crowd. “Since you missed the memorial at home I thought maybe we could have one of our own.”

You turned away from the crowd and he dropped his waving hand to cage you between his arms as the truck began to drive down off the grid, saving you from jostling at the sudden movement.

“Won’t the FIA have a problem with that?”

“What can they do? Penalise all of us?” he laughed. “And if it’s a fine, we’re happy to pay it.”

“They’ll blame you.”

“They’ve made so many wrong conclusions, but at least they would be right this time,” he joked. “Relax, love, it’ll be fine.”

Lando went back to waving to the fans and you smiled at the ones who held up signs for René, most of them orange hearts or the French flag with his driver number in the middle. 

It wasn’t long that the smooth ride slowed and the trailer came to a stop at the barrier that had long since been replaced but you still saw the mangled metal and oil slick in your mind's eye. 

You startled a little when Lando’s hand came to rest on yours and gently pulled it free of the rail. You shook your head to clear the image and the sounds of the track returned along with Lando’s calm voice as he murmured encouraging words in your ear. 

You focused on his voice as he jumped off the back of the trailer before offering his hands to catch you next. Already the other drivers had made their way off track and were placing the bouquets and wreaths along the barrier. Some whispered quiet prayers and signed the cross, while others took a moment to reflect in silence.

You drifted over to the barrier with Lando at your side and sank to your knees in the soft grass running your fingers through the blades, waiting for the crushing weight to settle into your chest. The seconds ticked by as the wind picked up, the breeze a cooling welcome touch to your skin, but still the pain never came. There was only the permanent sense of sadness that hung like a small cloud in the sky no matter how sunny the day was.

“I miss you,” you whispered as you plucked a single red rose from the bouquet Lando held. Its sweet scent reminded you of the garden you had planted with René at home and the thorns dug into your palm as your hand tightened around the stem before you laid it among the rest. “You should see your fans. There’s so much love for you here, I can feel it all around me. Your mum was right.”

The drivers started to make their way back to the trailer and Lando pressed a kiss to your forehead. “When I was waiting beside him at the altar he made me promise if anything happened to him that I would take care of you. I never got to say the words to him because the doors opened and you walked in looking like an absolute angel,” his voice was thick with emotion and he cleared his throat before placing his bouquet with the others. “You have my word, René, I swear on my life.”

He grabbed the sunglasses tucked into the collar of his hoodie, pushing them over his red eyes and you wrapped your arms around his waist as he buried his head in your neck. 

“He knows, babe,” you murmured as you rubbed his back until the small shudders of his silent sobs eased, being his strength for once. Neither of you acknowledge the damp marks on your shoulder, neither of you said a word as he looked at the flowers once more before heading back to the trailer. 

“Take as long as you need, love,” he said quietly as he went.

You stood alone absorbing the moment, basking in the love that was surrounding you as you touched the cold metal barrier and looked back at Lando to see Maria placing her hand on his shoulder with a small smile. “Watch over him, Ren. Please keep him safe, for me.”

You were drunk, and so was Lando. There was no other way to put it. Finishing third had not been expected after the car’s performance in qualifying but, by luck or miracle, the conditions had been perfect for him to set a fast pace and move up the grid. So, needless to say, you were celebrating the hell out of the accomplishment with Lando in a packed nightclub full of his supporters and team.

“I’m so proud of you, baby!” The smile hadn’t left your face since he passed the chequered flag but with all the alcohol in your system you couldn’t feel the ache of the muscles in your cheeks. You cupped his face and traced his dimples with your thumbs before kissing him and getting lost in the spur of the moment.

“I love you and I am so lucky to have you.” There was no stopping the words flowing from your mouth, you were too excited for him since it had been a while since his last podium. The pressure from his Principle to get more points could finally ease a little and he was already looking more relaxed. “I think I drank too much, the room's kind of spinning.”

Lando’s laugh was contagious as he took the glass of champagne from your hand and finished it for you with a suggestion to dance instead. It took far longer than expected to make it through the crowd to the dance floor with everyone wanting to stop and congratulate him but you were happy to take it slow seeing how happy it made him.

He eventually extracted himself from the crowd and caught up to where you had found yourself under the lights and amongst the swell of people dancing the night away. His fingers laced with yours as he drew your hands up his body before he draped them around his neck and he pulled you closer.

You didn’t even notice the hundreds of people around you when Lando started moving against you. There was nothing but him and the music that his hips moved to, and the sound of his voice as he brushed his lips below your ear.

“You are breathtakingly beautiful, love.” The song changed and you turned in Lando’s arms deciding to tease him back as you danced against him, rolling your hips to the sensual music. His hands tightened their grip, his fingers digging into your hips where they had come to rest. “We need to leave before I do something very naughty right here in front of all these people.”

You peeked over your shoulder to see his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his glazed eyes full of promise. “But this is your party.”

“So I can do what I want, and I want you.” He kissed the space where your shoulder met your neck. “You’re driving me crazy.”

You stepped out of his touch, immediately missing the warmth of his body against your back, and took his hand. A grin grew on his face when you tugged him forward and he was quick to overtake you on the way to the door, separating the crowd and keeping you tucked in behind his body like a shield.

The cool air of the night hit your lungs and a shiver rolled down your spine at the sudden drop in temperature until Lando pulled you closer and waved for a taxi. It was hardly worth putting the seat belt on for how far down the road the car was going to take you but after Lando had opened the door for you he had walked around the car and taken his seat he had tutted after seeing the belt buckle empty.

“Not on my watch, love,” he said as he reached over you and grabbed the belt. “I need you safe and sound.”

Your lips pressed into a line when you tried to hide your amusement at his protectiveness. “Yes, daddy.”

His eyes flashed to yours and he curled an eyebrow up before he started biting his bottom lip again. “What did you say?”

The taxi pulled into the hotel entrance and you didn’t wait for Lando to come and open your door. You were already walking to the room as fast as your high heels would allow while he rushed to pay for the fare.

You could hear him racing to catch up when you turned down the hall that your suite was on. A squeak escaped before you could silence it when he caught up and pinned you to the door with his body, his lips stealing the soft moan that followed.

“What. Did. You. Say?” he enunciated between each kiss as he swiped his card over the handle and opened the door.

You almost fell backwards as it suddenly swung open but Lando’s arm curled around your waist and pulled you flush against him. Your lips parted with a heady sigh as you felt his hard length begging to be freed from his jeans but he smirked and shook his head when you tried to reach for him.

“Uh-uh, I’m still waiting,” he tutted as he walked you backwards into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. “I want to hear that little quip again, love.”

You teased him with a smile as you reached behind your back for the zip that kept your dress on. “I didn’t realise you were so eager to be a father.” 

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he chuckled as he moved your hand and dragged the zip slowly down your spine. “But with you it wouldn’t be so bad.” 

“Wouldn’t be so bad?” you repeated with a cocked eyebrow and a playful smile. “I understand the ‘no rizz Norris’ now.”

The material slipped down your body and you felt Lando’s exhale warm across your neck before he kissed your racing pulse. “Do you want me to tell you how much I would love to settle down with you, start a family and grow old with you? Because I will. I want it all. With. You.”

You tilted your head to give him more access as his words and the alcohol made your head spin. All of the futures you had once thought would be with René had died with him, but they came crashing back with Lando and you could see it playing out in your head. “When were you planning on telling me this?”

He smirked as his hands trailed down your body before he grabbed your thighs and picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he made his way to the bedroom. “When you called me daddy.”

Click here for part ten.

Tagging: @yunnie-f1 @neiich @zendayabelova @stillbreathin @dr3lover @writerscurse @christianpulisic10 @alwaysclassyeagle @alexisquinnlee-bc @purplephantomwolf @lightsoutletsgo @pleasantducktimetravel @pierre-gasllllllyyyyyy @holy-macncheese-balls @belennasif @ophcelia @love4lando @ryiamarie

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine

[yourheart-inmyhands]

craving smthn soft with yan venti and freminet........ just... sweet words about how theyll never let you go, or think badly of you while holding you in their arms all snuggly in bed (whether you like it or not)

i love the contrast between venti and freminet, such gentle kind souls whilst also being entirely different at the base. A five star, anemo bow user, from mondstat versus a four star, cryo claymore user, from fontaine XD

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behaviors, a little bit of delusional behaviors, the rest is just soft stuff :D, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Venti is in his element here, soft and sweet words whispered into your ear as he holds you close. The two of you laying together in bed as he keeps your head tucked onto his chest, his fingers tracing shapes that you don’t recognize faintly over your shoulder blades.

While he isn’t entirely opposed to using it, Venti prefers to keep violence and force out of the relationship, he wants you to naturally seek his company, to want him as badly as he wants you.

It’s why he never fuses or fights when you want affection or attention, gladly dropping whatever he’s doing to put all his attention on you. You are the only thing that really matters in his mind, all other things are lost among the absolute that is you. The way your every thought consumes him whole, his false heart seeming to beat out of control for you at just the thought of your presence.

His poetic nature only makes his words much sweeter, lips spewing endless trains of sugar coated symphonies that only your ears get to bear witness to.

Hours have passed feeling merely like minutes as you laid there, curled up in Venti’s embrace as his lips moved continuously. You didn’t know how he seemed to come up with such endless thoughts, and when asked he only replied that he could talk about you till the end of time. A silly, poetic answer, but one that carried still a lot of weight. A hum of content leaves your lips as you feel his fingers pick up their motions again. You weren’t familiar with the symbols Venti traced, even as you tried to reimagine them in your mind, it still never even came out to anything remotely legible to you. Whether it was just random patterns and swirls or something deeper to Venti didn’t matter much to you, just so long as he continued to love you so devotedly.

Yandere!Freminet is not good with words. He doesn’t know how to say all the sweet frilly stuff that couples say to each other. His fluster and stumbled words always tripping him up when he even thinks about what to say to you.

What he doesn’t mess up on talking about though is machines, because he knows machines. He knows how they work and what should and shouldn’t be with them, they have absolutes, something that words of affection sometimes don’t

So in his own, loving way, he talks about you as if you were a machine. If you were a robot that he built, how would he build you? Where does he start, what kind of material and parts does he use and what would you be built for. He explains it all in detail to you. 

He tells you about the kinds of repairs and maintenance you might need. How often you might need a good polishing or a new coat of paint. If it has anything to do with machinery he will talk about it. It’s almost weird, but endearing in a way. To have someone think so deeply about you as an individual, discussing every small detail and piece of you with such invested interest. It’s strange, but so genuinely Freminet.

You could listen to Freminet talk for hours, laying beside you on the grass, hand holding yours as he gazes deeply into your eyes. Occasionally he sits up, leaning over you to trace down a specific part of your body, using the real you to explain the pretend machine you as a concept. It’s cute, the way he focuses so intently on describing every detail for you, running over the same part over and over again in his head until he’s certain you can picture the same thing he sees. He’s a little strange, but he’s so devoted to you, to everything that is or in relation to you. He’s Freminet, your dorky partner.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #venti x reader #venti x male reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere venti x male reader #freminet x reader #freminet x male reader #yandere freminet x reader #yandere freminet x male reader #yandere venti #yandere fremient #yandere genshin

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter One

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Allusions of Domestic Violence.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~2.6k

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The night is darkest at dawn. Just before the first rays of of the new day struck the horizon, the night drew infinitely black to offer the last bit of night before being smothered by the sun. You loved the silence it brought, giving you a break from the cumbersome and structured life you lived. Yet that indulging peace was fleeting. Never longer enough for you to taste what you truly longed for and only taunting you with something that you’d never reach. Sighing, you rested your chin on your gathered knees and enjoyed what would be your last sunrise at the Bonn Manor.

You’d been born on the grounds, raised in elegant halls, and soon, be married in its chestnut grove. The wedding had been planned for nearly a year, your engagement? Years. Everything had been meticulously designed down to the length of a single blade of grass. Your mother was a bit of a control freak, hadn’t let you put in one word edgewise and it was your own wedding! Not that you were surprised, you’d never once had the pleasure of even choosing your own outfits or meals.

In hindsight it saved you many a headache for you hadn’t lifted a finger in the entire process. The florist had been given strict direction on what bouquets, boutonnières, and accents should look like, not to mention the flower choice. The bakery in the heart of your island had no doubt been working overtime to supply the cake and other specialty confectionery and the tailor had almost moved into the manor to finish the work on your dress.

Your dress.

It had been in production for nearly eight months. Your town, Kuri Island, while known for it’s chestnut trees was also famed for it’s lacework. League and leagues of lace had been stitched just for your dress and that didn’t even include your outrageous veil! It was enormous, beaded and decorated with an innumerous amount of cloth flowers. Your mother really hadn’t spared any expense, tutting that this had been her lifestyle dream to see you married to a powerful man that would ensure that your noble blood line would continue to prosper.

That and the family business. The Bonn’s had a monopoly on the chestnut and lace industry on Kuri island, ruling with an iron fist and ensuring that they remained the most powerful on the island. Your fiancé was the next in line power wise. As a Marine Commodore, Thomas Collins was the only man on the island worthy of your hand… and in just a few short hours he’d have it.

But not by your choice.

This was an arranged marriage drafted by your parents when you were just a teen, to a man very much your senior and cared little for your own feelings. Worse? He wasn’t a good man, or a good Marine. As much as your mother had tried to control the whispers that reached your delicate ears, you knew the reputation Thomas had among the commoners. He wasn’t a good man, he had a habit of cruelty to those far beneath himself, and you’d even heard rumors of bribery. But politics and Berry had trumped over your personal feelings. You couldn’t refuse this marriage, your opinion couldn’t even leave your lips.

Just as the sun began to rise above the horizon, your maids bustled into your room followed by additional ones to tackle the great task of getting you ready for the wedding in a few hours. Ann and Gerbera, your personal maids, hustled over to you. While Ann scanned your lavender bedhead, Gerbera took your hand and inspected your hands.

“I haven’t gone and ruined my nails,” You murmured, not taking your eyes off the glow of the morning sunrise.

“Your mother requested an inspection, my lady,” Gerbera replied, scanning your immaculate fingernails. “Lest you had made an attempt to flee during the night.”

“And where would I go?” You asked vaguely, your eyes taking on a faraway and clouded look. The maids had often seen it appear within your eyes the closer the wedding drew. They were not oblivious to the matter that you didn’t wish to marry Thomas. Had most definitely witnessed your private breakdowns over the years as you slowly realized that your life had never been your own. They were good to you, excellent maids who took pride in caring for their lady… but they couldn’t even move a single finger to help you in your predicament.

“Never mind that, off to the baths,” Ann softly preened, trying to find light in the fact that you would be glowing with beauty once they were done dressing you for your wedding. You let Gerbera pull you from your lonesome and brooding perch, guiding your through your rooms to the grand bathroom that already steamed with scented water. You could smell the strong scent of rose and argan oil rising from bumbling water. You’d been taking baths thrice weekly to soften your skin to that of the finest satin on your mother’s orders, and had started hating the scent. It made you nauseous. This would be your last so you would bear it.  

Standing in place, Ann and Gerbera delicately undid the strings to your nightdress, pulling it from your body to leave you naked. You didn’t hesitate to step down into the bath. The hot water did very little to ease your growing nausea and discomfort. You knew it wouldn’t. But at the very least it felt nice on your stiff body. You had sat at your window for hours without moving, your mind spinning and descending into the dark depths of the pit of hell you’d soon be living in.

Gerbera knelt behind you and took your long lavender hair in hand, gently running an ivory comb through the tangled strands. You winced every time she caught a knot. Gerbera murmured an apology time and carefully unraveled the knot of hair. Your lavender locks weren’t usually a mess, but you’d tossed and turned all last night before getting up a few hours ago to wait for the sunrise. At the very least, once you were married you’d have more control over the length of your hair. The extraneous length was cumbersome and almost like chains to weight you down. Well, almost every part of your life was some sort of a chain or prison.

So while Gerbera continued to tend to your hair, Ann took to managing oils into your hand and buffing your already immaculate nails. They took extra care in placing dabs of oil in key places on your body. Behind your ears, along your neck, and across your wrists. As you would walk the oils would diffuse in the air around you, perfuming you and leaving behind the scent of rose. A scent that drowned you in hatred. It was always rose this or rose that. Rose jewelry and rose dresses. Even a rose themed bedroom!

If you never smelled another rose after this blasted wedding you would die a happy woman…

You stayed in the bath as long as you’d be allowed, but the strict voice of your mother ringing from your bedroom had Ann and Gerbera pulling you from the bath and wrapping you in a towel. They dried you off in record time, no doubt saving you from a stern lecture, and wrapped your wet hair in a drying towel. The three of you winced when your mother’s voice turned sharp and she nearly started shrieking at the poor girl who had added an extra rose to your bouquet.

“It’s not even seven o’clock yet and the madam is already angry,” Ann murmured, almost hesitant to push you back into your bedroom.

“It’s a perpetual state I believe,” You replied, twisting your fingers together. “The day she is pleasant is the day the world has ended.” Toweled dry, you donned a robe and reluctantly headed back to your bedroom. Your mother was still harping on the poor girl who had gotten the number of flowers wrong in your bouquet when you appeared. She rounded on your life a viper and you had a brief momentary thought that she might have given herself whiplash.

“You!” She barked out. “Why are you not sitting down for your hair and makeup?” You remained silent and simply lowered yourself to the velvet and satin chair in front of your vanity. She continued to berate you for things you had no control over and complain over nonexistent errors. It’d be all over in a few hours, you’d trade one jailer for another.

Your hair was dealt with first. Being so long, it took perhaps nearly half an hour to brush it out smooth and braid it. Then it was swirled and pinned into place upon your head with crystal studded pins that dug into your scalp in a painful reminder. You’d been complimented on how lovely the crystal and flower pins looked within your lavender colored hair, and combined with the minimal makeup being painted upon your face you were sure to look the picture of perfection.

“Heaven’s Linaria could you at the very least respect your mother enough to get sleep during the night!” Your mother huffed, fretting and tutting over the bags beneath your eyes the makeup slowly concealed. “I have worked tirelessly to perfect this wedding and I will not have you ruining it with an unsightly appearance.”

“Yes mother,” You replied obediently. Her eyes, echoing your own but with a much harsher  tint, narrowed and she scoffed.

“Knowing you you’ll make a scene at the reception or even ruin the vows. Commodore Collins isn’t expecting a wildling for a wife! He is expecting a well bred, well taught, and docile wife to meet him at the alter. Do not disappoint me.” Your eyes met hers in the mirror for a brief moment before you dropped your gaze. Your silence wasn’t the answer she expected and taloned nails sunk into your pinned and yanked your head back.

Yelping, your fingers dug into your robe as you were forced to look into her cruel and hard eyes.

“Am I clear? You are to behave, Linaria, do not disappoint this family again,” Her warning was well and clear within her eyes. This was the last one she’d give you. Swallowing thickly, you agreed in the softest voice.

“Yes mother,” Your hair was released and you took in a silent breath of relief, grateful that she wasn’t tugging on your hair still. You were sure that a few of the pins would have to be righted after her harsh hold.

“I have to greet our guests, get her ready to dress,” Your mother snapped before striding from your bedroom in a swirl of heavy skirts. Rubbing your neck with a slight wince, Ann took place behind you and quickly fussed with your hair to return it to pristine condition.

“We beg you, my lady,” Ann pleaded, her fingers gently placing the pins back in order. “I fear what will happen to you the next time you go against the madam.”

“And where exactly would I go at a time like this?” You replied, looking at Ann in the mirror. “The manor and grounds is crawling with visitors, the help, and guards. I have nowhere to go. Besides,” You glanced at the wedding dress on the mannequin in your room. “You think I could run in that? The thing weighs more than I do soaking wet.”

After Ann and Gerbera had gotten your hair and makeup just perfect, they’d been dismissed by your mother’s personal maids. She didn’t trust you with your personal maids and had ordered her own to see to dressing you. So you were alone with maids that had no issue enforcing your mother’s orders. They had you get up and stand in the middle of your room, fluttering around while gathering up the layers of your outfit.

You were already in your underwear and bra, a decorative set that your mother had insisted you wear for the wedding, so when you peeled the robe from your body you weren’t especially shy. Valeria, your mother’s favorite, brought over the heavy dress and with the help of Clover, maneuvered the top of the dress over your head. Despite being made from airy lace, the bones of the ballroom dress were metal and ridged, structuring the dress in the precise way your mother had wanted your body to look.

As you placed your arms in the three quarter sleeves with layered lace and starched silk, Valeria’s fingers were quick to work on the strings of the corset. She tightened it immediately, making a small noise of pain emerge from your lips, and only drew the strings tighter and tighter. As elegant and beautiful as you may look, you felt like you were being tied into a jail cell. Clover joined in on tugging the corset tight, and the bruising tightness only grew worse.

You wanted to bite your lip as your ribs began to screech at you, not liking the pressure. But heaven forbid you turned up to your wedding with bitten and chewed lips. Clenched fingers it was. Several minutes later, after being jerked around and squeezed most viciously, the extravagant veil was being pinned into your hair. Another weight to add. Valeria departed to report to your mother while Clover remained to watch over you. Walking over to the grand mirror in your bedroom, you stared at yourself in dread.

You looked like a trussed turkey heading for the dinner table.

You could admit that you looked beautiful, the shape of your waist cinched in and the wide neckline decorated with fabric rose buds accented your collarbones. Months of work on the lace detailing had pulled out a wedding gown fit for a princess… or a lady from a very rich family. But you couldn’t enjoy your beauty, you couldn’t giggle or dance as the skirts of your dress swirled around your feet. You couldn’t enjoy anything about the dress, no matter how expensive or luxurious it was.

By some grace, an extra maid poked her head into your bedroom with a red face. She began rattling off a bunch of issues with minor details of the ceremony space that your mother was throwing an absolute fit over, an Clover glanced at you with a worried look. You could see her thought process. She was supposed to watch over you, but the wedding would not commence without everything being perfect. Well, it wasn’t like you were going to go anywhere. So Clover quickly followed the maid, leaving you in suffocating silence.

Suffocating was an understatement.

Your heart was trying to beat its way out of your chest in pure fear. You had but a mere fifteen minutes before you would be truly locked in an inescapable prison. If you thought it was hard to breath wearing this dress it was nothing to the looming doom that was mere minutes away. Your eyes flickered to the balcony of your bedroom, the doors had been locked after you had tried running before… but with the cleaning of the manor in anticipation for the wedding, they were no longer barred from use.

Memories of what had happened to you as a result of being caught and dragged back to the manor flickered into your mind. You’d never been in that much pain. Fear of repercussion prickled in your veins, rooting you to where you stood. Eyes catching sight of the tops of the ships harbored, your throbbing heart leaped into your throat.

“I’ll never have another chance,” You whispered to yourself, desperation winning over fear.

Date Published: 11/13/23

Last Edit: 11/13/23

Masterlist | Next

#one piece #one piece shanks #shanks x y/n #shanks x you #shanks x reader #red haired shanks

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

MDNI

Ok, for real this time.

CW: Sex/Sexual content, not feral twilight, but he’s almost there, light marking, breeding

Reader has feminine anatomy and no pronouns.

Not proofread!!

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Spring was a very prominent season among Ordon. Sure, every season had its place in their ritualistic life. But given Ordon was a small farming village, the icey cold of winter and droughts of summer didn’t provide them with much. Hell— even the goats were cranky without fresh grass to gnaw on.

But the sun would, with time, melt the snow and nourish the land. Small flowers would poke up on the edges of pathways and riverbeds. The bank would crack as the sheets of ice splintered and gave way. The grounds would soften and absorb the first rain of many months.

Link had always loved spring. As a boy, he loved the warm sun on his skin as he picked away at fresh grass, splitting the blades and getting soft dirt under his fingernails. As he grew, the season proved to be enjoyable far beyond just its temperance. Laying largely in, of course, that his job of caring for a herd of goats relied primarily on their happiness. Spring was kind to him. The sun didn’t beat at his skin, the goats didn’t groan their discontent, the work was plentiful, but pleasant.

Only one true downside sprung to mind with the season of spring. He remembers being particularly younger -perhaps his first season working as a hand with the goats- and getting rammed by a particularly competitive ram. His chest and back had minor bruises, and his palms were scraped.

It was that year he learned there was a lot more to caring for a herd of animals than simply providing them what they needed.

‘One must adjust themselves’ Fado explained as he wrapped the scrapes, ‘To the animals, you are new. Not one of them. Competition to that ram, in his eyes.’ He chuckled heartily as Link explained that he was only trying to help feed them. ‘They ain’t smart enough to know that, kiddo. Don’t you worry yerself. Now run along, I have things handled.’

The years passed. He grew familiar with the herd and they grew familiar with him. He could pick out which were particularly moody, the others more friendly. He knew their waking and feeding times to the minute. He knew which were the most prone to being lame.

But most importantly related to avoiding injury, like that of his prior example, when they’d mate.

And though he never would admit it aloud to a single soul so long as he had dignity, the idea was captivating. The thought that someone could feel the primal need to fuck so badly that the world becomes irrelevant was one he’d often entertain on quieter nights, his lungs struggling to draw steady breath as his hands wrapped around his cock. There was something about that need to rut into somewhere soft and warm and fertile never failed to draw strangled whines from his throat.

But of course, that was before he had to actually tend to said urges.

That was before his soul was shattered and welded back together with something more beast than man.

He’d found, more often than not, that a rut was more annoying than anything else. He was constantly covered in a thin sheen of sweat from his body temperature being so elevated. Worked wonders for attracting attention as a bead of sweat would travel down the contours of his muscles. However, having consistently damp sheets because of it was so annoying he’d sleep on the couch most nights. The aggression was mostly annoying because it resulted in him cursing out the goats so often he was sure he looked utterly insane.

That was, of course, not even mentioning the sexual aggression.

The weeks dragged out and the temperatures raised up. And every single night Link would come home, take a shower, eat some dinner, and proceed to spend the rest of the evening with his hands between his legs. Occasionally a pillow would find its way between strong, plush thighs, his hips bucking and grinding pathetically at the sensation. But even after his hands, thighs, stomach and bed were stained with sticky cum, another wave of mind-numbing heat would roll over him.

Notably most annoying was there was no solution. Horny as he was, the beast would shove away any lover he tried to take in distaste. It craved something special. Something specific to sate his urges and carry his kin.

At first, he thought this to be a cruel and unusual curse from Hylia. Her way of forsaking her hero who was permanently ‘tainted’. It only seemed fitting when one considers the purity culture the church possesses. That it was something beyond simply shameful to tend to temptation.

But then he met you. You who was always different. Who both him and wolf pined for. Who had him tripping over himself for your affection. You who he didn’t care about the consequences. So long has he had you.

You who did not spit at him for who he was— what he was. You who loved him regardless. You who kissed his tattoos and markings. You who reassured him during his anxiety attack, that you weren’t ’too good for him’ that he truly was deserving of love either way.

So much had shifted since then, though nothing really had at all. The both of you both still split chores and cuddled at night. But now both hemispheres of his sentience could be satisfied knowing you were his. First as a lover who he could cuddle and kiss, someone to cherish until the end of his being. And second as a mate who he could protect and claim, someone to breed and carry his pups.

Not much changed as of genuine dynamics, but his outlook most certainly had.

Spring, familiar in the back of his mind, began to bloom. The snow melted off the fields, the life returning to the woods, his mind running wild at seeing any newly exposed skin.

To some extent he felt indecent. The man in him wanted to help you prepare for the festival, to caress your warm skin and pepper your cheeks with kisses. He wanted to enjoy life at your side. The wolfish, however, wanted nothing more than to pin you to the bed and fuck you senseless. To make new life as if his own was dependent on it. The civility instilled in him was mortified with the thoughts of the primal.

But that of course, made them no less present. Nor did it made his skin no less warm, or his jealousy less looming.

Ordon never really held large events, but the equinox of each season was mutually assured to be the time to go all in. Each family would show up with multiple dishes and drinks and the festivities would last long into the early hours of the day. It was your first time at the spring festival, the children presenting you with a flower crown and giddy grins. You both ate and drank your shares, laughing among the village. Just like any other family at the table… that was, excluding the lack of little ones.

Eventually, some of the more drunken began to sing and chant, the makeshift beat and music causing some to dance and sway. Link hung back as you were tugged into the crowd by Ilia. The fading sun caught your skin, dousing it in a radiance beyond mortality. He could hear your laughter amidst the voices, clear and crisp. You were divine, he decided. Not just perfect or stunning, but someone he’d devote himself to until he had nothing left to give.

He’s actually quite unsure on how long it was he sat there in admirance. He got more than a few comments on how utterly lovesick he was for you, but it didn’t matter. Not to him. Not now you were finally his. You came back, a smile lingering on your lips as you kissed him, your hand squeezing his shoulder with some sense of urgency.

“Are you alright?” His hand, rough from a life of nothing but work, cupped your jaw with such delicacy. His voice was hushed, not wishing to draw attention to you in the case something truly was wrong. You grabbed him by the collar, demanding him closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you spoke.

“I think it’s time we headed home.” And who was he to deny you? Especially not with the lilt in your voice, one that had him weak willed to your order.

He didn’t bother putting you down as he walked through the front door. He had you on the bed in seconds. He straddled your hips, a single strong hand pressing you to the mattress by the neck. His hands tugged sharply at your shirt, ripping away the fabric with a muttered promise for a new shirt. He immediately defended upon the skin, latching and sucking marks and bruises.

“Yer so fuckin’ stunning sugar” He whispered against your skin, kissing the hickey he just planted.

“All laid out f’me, huh?” His accent thickened, his teeth grazed against the fragile skin of your throat, pulling it taught in places.

“All yours, just for you” You managed to weakly affirm. He grinned, sharp and suggestive.

“All mine.” He nipped at your neck, his subconscious running crazy with the scent of your skin. Begging him once more to claim— to mark what’s his. Reverently, he kisses the lovebites he leaves. Some bleed, but his tongue travels along each ridge in the bite mark. He savours your blood on his tongue. It’s the finest drug, setting each half of his mind reeling and his own blood rushing. He travels to your perked nipples, suckling on them both in turns as his hand massages the other one.

“So good for me.” He lets his hand trail down to your thighs, pressing them open. He chuckles at how easily they spread apart. A fang drags lightly against your skin as he kissed right above your hips, directly on top of where your uterus would be.

“G’na look so pretty, all stuffed with my pups.” He looked up at you through his lashes, his hands tightening around your thighs with the look of need on your face.

“I’ll help ya’ darlin’ don’t you worry” He slid back, hooking a finger over your waistband and asking a slightly shaky “may I?”

“Please, Link I-“ His hands ripped through any clothes that separated his mouth from your cunt. His hands slid to your hips to pull them even closer to his face as he lapped away. A starving man would’ve been more civilised with their meal.

But as far as he was concerned, he was drinking the most intoxicating wine straight from the tap.

He payed no mind to your whines, nor did he slow as your thighs squeezed his head. He would occasionally dive up, his tongue toying with your clit. He lets your fingers thread hrough his hair, pulling him as close as possible before gushing into his maw. He revels in the pain of your knuckles tugging at your hair. He leans in closer, trying to drink you in even more. You tried to pull back to give him breathing room, only to be pulled back in by the hips. He licked your pussy clean, some cum still dripping down his chin. Your hips buck at the sight, a man so pussydrunk he could die of suffocation between your thighs and be happy. He gently traveled back up to kiss either of your cheeks and comb through your hair, massaging out the insides of your thighs as you resurfaced from your mind.

“Love?” He praised you in his tone alone, his forehead pressed against yours as he untangles himself from between your legs.

“Yes?” You open one half-lidded eye to see a beggar man, eyes full of such hope.

“C-Can I,-“ He didn’t need to say ask before you knew the question.

“Yes.” He’s careful, as of trying to convey to you in the motion of pressing your legs upward just how much he loves you.

Something in his eyes darkens the second he’d sunken inside your heat. He paused, letting you adjust to him and your muscles to relax.

“Fuck that greedy hole a’ yours fits me- so so well” He grumbles out, his chest rising and falling, as if staying still were truly a great effort to him. He bares his teeth, unnaturally sharp for one of his kind. His hips suddenly draw back and snap against your own, his length pushing against your cervix. He mumbles fragmented praises incoherently, slamming into you with an abusive pace, contrasted to the slow circling of your clit. His hand is so warm against your sensitive nerves, you want help but buck and wail in a desperate attempt to keep the stimulation as you get closer and closer to cumming. And you know you’re not alone— his grunts turning raspy the closer he himself gets to cumming, almost like a growl.

“Gna’ knock you up.” His hips buck out of time, but certainly no less fast. Your cunt flutters with the dizzying combination of sensations.

“You want that? My litter? Pups of our own?” Perhaps it was the near ferality in his tone that caused you to topple over. Or maybe it was his two fingers that curled around your clit. Even his cock nudging against your most sensitive bundle of nerves. He followed not too soon after, your silken walls squeezing around him must’ve been exactly the fix he’d been lusting after.

You both spent a few minutes curled up, catching your breath and letting your minds settle. You begin to shift, only to be met with a needy whine and arms around your abdomen.

“Nonono! Not yet- Please stay still” Link’s arms were loose, willing to let you go if that were your decree. You made no motion to move, much to his delight. He kneaded out any of your sore muscles and whispered praises into your hair as he played with it. Your eyelids began to flutter, sleep only staged off by his quiet whisper.

“Hey Darlin’?”

“Hm?”

“I love you. I love you so much.”

#link x reader #lu x reader #tp!link x reader #tp!link #lu twilight x reader #lu twilight #link x reader smut

[0vergrowngraveyard]

Sonic wasn’t a stranger to off days. In fact, he had them a lot more often than most people realized, he was just really good at hiding them.

Maybe a little too good.

This day, however, was particularly bad.

He wasn’t sure why. He pretty much just woke up in a grassy field feeling like, well, shit and it felt a little more challenging to simply push down like he usually did. Even after a quick call with Tails — something that usually cheered him up almost immediately — he still felt like he wanted to disappear off the face of Mobius, never to fight in another battle or have the pressure of saving the world ever again.

He’d never admit it because he genuinely loves doing what he does, but it gets to him sometimes. He’s only fifteen years old, when did it become his responsibility for all this crap.

Sometimes he did wish he had a more simple life. Just him, his little brother, and his close friends living out their teenage (and little kid) years like normal Mobians.

However, the adrenaline junkie in him quickly kicks that idea in the ass. He didn’t think he could ever live without all the death defying stunts and risks that came with his current lifestyle. It just wouldn’t be as fun. Plus, doing what he does is the reason he has most of his friends in the first place.

He wouldn’t trade this current life for anything in the world, but it can still drag him down sometimes.

He closed his eyes and felt a gentle breeze surround him and dance among the blades of grass. The leaves of nearby trees rustling and flickies chirping were like distant symphonies as the sun’s warmth engulfed him.

He stayed like that for around thirty minutes, just basking in all that nature had to offer him this morning. Quiet moments like these were part of what kept him fighting. As long as Eggman was dead set on destroying areas like these, Sonic would be there to stop him.

After what felt like an eternity to the hedgehog, he got up and stretched. He looked around him, picked a random location, and took off running, hoping to leave his thoughts behind.

He ran for hours, occasionally stopping to check out a view or quickly help someone. But it didn’t matter how fast or how far he went, the thoughts always caught up to him.

Past failures, little comments made by the media that affected him a little more than they probably should, guilt he had stored up from past life choices, etc.

But nothing haunted him more than those dreaded six months.

Months of isolation. Not knowing if his friends were ok, if his baby brother was ok, The torture, the anxiety, the shackles. The illusions of his loved ones dying before his eyes over and over again and being mocked or yelled at by them.

The depression and nightmares that followed were almost too much for him to bear and he probably would’ve lost it if his overwhelming sense of guilt didn’t push him to stick around and help.

His friends weren’t mad at him for not helping them for most of the war. In fact, it almost felt like they were babying him in a way. Constantly asking he was okay and making sure he was comfortable whenever they had downtime. Even Tails was seemingly walking on eggshells around him which definitely made him feel some kind of way.

When the war finally ended, he disappeared for about two months. It was all too overwhelming.

He knew it was a selfish move, but Chaos forbid he makes one decision that solely benefits himself after that whole mess. He just needed to be alone and run off those six months.

No one was mad at him when he finally reappeared, the closest thing would be how worried Tails was.

He always did worry too much.

Everything slowly went back to normal. The war slowly became a thing of the past, just another victory over Dr Eggman.

So why was Sonic still so hung up over it?

A noise from his stomach stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks. He slowed to a stop somewhere on the shoreline and checked his communicator for the time. How was it already lunch time? Did he really spend that much time thinking about all that crap?

He sped off in the direction of the Mystic Ruins. Being around his brother always managed to make him feel at least a little better. Maybe it would be more effective than just simply calling him.

He stopped at the front door of the house and punched in the code.

It was quiet. There were no noises coming from the workshop downstairs. Was the kit even home? It would suck if he wasn’t, what would be the point of Sonic showing up if his little brother wasn’t even here. Where did he go?

A certain smell overrode all his thoughts as he walked into the kitchen. Sitting on the counter was a plate of chili dogs that were still warm (he could just tell).

He smiled. Tails was definitely home.

Right on cue, he heard the workshop door open and a certain two-tailed fox walked into the kitchen. The weight on Sonic’s chest became lighter as the two talked about whatever came to mind with Tails even suggesting a movie night later on.

Fondness grasped at his heart, giving it a tight squeeze. Somehow, Tails once again knew he was having a bad day just from a brief interaction hours earlier. He never once asked what was wrong or made the hedgehog to talk about his feelings, he just did little things like make him food and offer to spend time together doing pointless things and goofing around. He even said he was just working on blueprints today which Sonic knew was just in case he didn’t feel like talking or just wanted to be alone.

Sonic didn’t know what he’d do without this kid. He really did have the best little brother a hedgehog could ask for.

#and you all doubted me #(i also doubted me) #sonic the sadhog return but this time he gets a little better #because his brother is actually around #if you see any mistakes you’re wrong and you need to get your eyes checked #started this at midnight #didn’t bother reading over it this morning #so it’s a little messy #making that hedgehog depressed is my favorite past time #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #wholesome sonic and tails wednesday #fic

[undiscovered-horizon]

[Apparently, all it takes for a doomed man to feel hope again is bad flirting and corny jokes. Or maybe it's about the comforting presence of someone he loves?]

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi | Have a request?

Whether Gale wants it or not, he's a quite predictable person. His reliability seems to extend far enough for you to always be able to correctly guess where he might be when the wizard is not near his tent. Although his tendency for routines might be mistaken for something dull, you've always thought of it as somewhat comforting - that among all the chaos that your life has become, there's a sense of regularity; the comfort of knowing how to navigate certain situations.

Just as you knew he would, Gale is sitting by the riverside. His back is slouched as he mindlessly reaches to grab a blade of grass, tear it off, and let his fingers play with it. Brown eyes would be intently staring at the flowing stream if their owner wasn't so lost in thought.

He hears you coming, dry leaves crumble under your feet but he makes no effort to look over his shoulder. Maybe you're actually a wild raccoon that will finally put him out of his misery... On second thought, that is a rather pathetic end for a wizard as great as him. To die by a raccoon. Ha!

"Hey handsome, come here often?" you ask as you sit down next to him.

Gale's robes once smelled of musty books and seawater but during your travels, they have lost their original fragrance in favour of a fresh aroma of pine needles, campfire smoke and herbal medicine. It gave him an "edge", if such a word could coexist with the wizard's homebody way of life.

"Only when I wish to wallow in pity," he answers. Although it's fleeting, almost secretive, you do notice the glance he gives you.

You raise an eyebrow at his response. "And that's often?"

A sad chuckle rumbles in his chest. Gale looks down at his fingers, for the very first time studying what his hands do with the long blades of grass. "A lot more than I'd like to admit." He actually bothers to make himself sound light-hearted but the dread eating him up has already soaked into his words.

You put your elbow on your knee and rest your chin on top of your hand. The new angle allows you to see more of his face, not that it changes your impression. Something's eating him up. "Is this what pretty wizards frequently engage in? I think I ought to update my schedule."

He looks almost like a painting, you think. The one a cleric would put up at the temple, a depiction of martyrhood in the name of something greater. Normally, you'd shrug at the thought of some poor sod thinking that making themself suffer will somehow please their god. It sounds like a questionable freedom of choice at best. But in Gale's case, you can't just shrug. Not anymore. Not since the two of you made it very obvious there's nothing platonic going on.

"I think you'll find that a moping wizard is hardly treasured company."

"Then maybe I should help him stop moping." Playfully, you bump your shoulder into his.

A sad smile graces his face. His brown eyes give you a quick glance again. Gale just can't help his longing. "As much as I appreciate the thought and the effort," he tries to sound unbothered, "my troubles already take up enough of your time. The others might want to have a word with you too."

Not a thing about Gale's statement surprises you. He's always wearing a facade of "Don't worry about little old me" but having gotten closer to the man, you know he's far from that - he wants someone to worry, only doesn't have the pride to ask for that. Part of him probably thinks he ought to earn the right to take up the space in someone's mind. How silly.

Gale's eyes return to you when he sees your fingers sneaking between his hands and a blade of grass he was playing with. No matter what he might say and how laid back he attempts to appear, all of his half-hearted bluffs dissipate when he forms a tight grip around your fingers.

"And I want to have a few words with you," you tell him in round terms. "Well, I want to have many things with you but I guess I can settle for a good old-fashioned conversation."

"I, erm..." he hangs his voice at your allusion. The blush on his cheeks is barely visible in the darkness of the night but you can tell it's there - his whole body is suddenly on fire. Gale clears his throat. "Enlighten me, then! What sort of lexicon do you wish to bestow upon me?"

You can't help the whole-hearted chuckle that leaves your lips. "You're really adorable when you talk all sophisticated." Gale laughs nervously at the compliment and he's just about to say something back but before he gets the chance, you reveal the truth about your arrival. "On a more serious note, I didn't have any endgame plan. I just thought that I'm going to ask you what's on your mind and no matter what you answer, I'm going to bless you with my presence until one of us falls asleep."

For the first time this evening, Gale's eyes linger on you for a long while. Although his initial embarrassment at your boldness is now gone, a sense of nervousness lingers. But do not misunderstand - it's a welcome kind of tension; the anxiety of holding something dear and fearing breaking it. "I'd very much like that," he answers. A small smile of genuine happiness curves his lips.

Gale momentarily tenses up when you lay your head on his shoulder. Then, as though paradoxically a weight has been lifted from his back, he finds himself sighing.

Strangely enough, he feels... calm. Too caught up in his thoughts of impending doom and past failures, Gale has been oblivious to the good things in his life. Especially in the present. He tries to grasp at the fleeting thoughts he had been pitifully entertaining for the past hour or so but they escape his focus. Now that each of his breathes is filled with the smell of campfire smoke and fragrant oils that stuck to your skin, the doom that had been haunting him before dissipates like storm clouds blown away by the wind. Part of him wants to laugh - the morbid scenarios that once rendered him sleepless seem so trivial now. Gale was dealt a bloody difficult hand, yes, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to play it, does it?

He's known hope for a long time but only now does he see her. And what a wonder it is that she's wearing your face.

#gale dekarios #gale x reader #gale x you #gale x tav #bg3 #bg3 gale #bg3 gale dekarios #gale bg3 #gale dekarios bg3 #gale dekarios fanfiction #gale fanfiction #gale fanfic #gale dekarios fanfic #gale #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate iii

[ceruleancattail]

Encounter

Malleus x bard reader

Emerald blades of grass sway with the breeze, rustling as you take a seat. The scent of fresh dew was strong, clinging to the fabric of your clothes. A lively sort of scent, that brought to mind endless fields of greenery stretching off into the horizon.

Not a tiny patch of grass in the middle of these dreary woods. Trunks of deep, dark brown towered above your form, shrouding you in shadow. Garbled branches snaked across the sky, crooked twigs swaying ever so slightly. Mocking you, the little creature that was confined to the ground. Trudging through mud and dirt, stumbling through the darkness.

Burly roots peeled through the debris occasionally, catching your feet within. You’ve tripped over them more then once. Your elbows still stung from the impact, skin throbbing a bright red.

You swear, these trees have it out for you.

Rarely would a human venture into their depths, much less a bard.

Your instrument was slung over your shoulder, it’s wooden body nestled against the curve of your spine. Every step you take, it smacked the small of your back. In sync with your heartbeat, a steady thump, thump, thump.

A rhythm. Quite a pleasant one, honestly. Perhaps you’ll use it in a hymn. A hymn of adventure, a tale of trepidation and curiosity.

You hum softly, building a little melody. A simple song, echoing through these dark, damp woods. A song bird’s chirp, penertrating sharp and clear through the air.

Hands reaching for your back, you slide your instrument into your hands. Fingers dancing on the fretboard, pressing into those slender, ivory white strings. They vibrate with every strum, singing every chord with ease.

Plopping under a rather shady tree, you began to sing. Manipulating every note, weaving them into your voice. Chords waxing and waning like a candle’s flame, dancing to the tune that flowed through your lips.

For awhile, the forest fell silent as you weaved a tune through the breeze. Singing your lungs out for every leaf, every twig…. For anyone, honestly.

Anyone who would listen.

A sharp snap. Your blood froze, ice prickling through your veins. Instrument clutched tightly in your hands, you whipped around with it held aloft. A sorry excuse of an actual weapon, but it’ll do.

Eyes of emerald gazed into yours. They were flaked with gold, glittering in the light. Much like buried gold, peeking through the dirt. Dilated pupils of ebony blinked slowly, much like a feline’s.

Looking you over slowly, in an attempt to decide where you stand:

Friend or Foe.

Ebony horns dipped into the blackness of the night, sprouted from his head. His hair was long, slipping down his shoulders with all the glossiness of a raven’s feather.

Robes drape his form, cutting a rather majestic figure among all these trees.

Branches dipped into a sober bow, as if paying their respects. Leaves fell before his feet, a carpet rolled out in his honour.

He takes a step towards you, a tail swaying behind. Filled with scales, they twinkled seductively, pinpricks of stars dotted onto his skin. A galaxy, confided into a person.

Tilting his head ever so slightly, he regards you with a certain curiosity. With the prying eyes of a child… well, almost. There was a cool undertone of amusement layered underneath that piercing gaze.

A moment of silence passed in between both of you. The tension a wall, standing strong.

Before the grass rustled. This majestic, striking figure of a being sat down. Crossing his lap underneath him, he settles down on the ground, eyes level with yours.

“It’s been… many years since I’ve heard music, much less a tune as lively as yours.”

He speaks, a deep baritone. A smooth sound, as rich as the finest wine. The corners of his lips twitched, slipping up into a small smile. A smile of appreciation.

“Thank you, child of man.”

Pursing your lips, you lower your instrument, its weight on your lap once more. Gulping back a mouthful of saliva, you had to force your tongue to move, words trembling in your throat.

“It’s not a problem. I fear I have disturbed your solace with my voice.”

A deep chuckle, echoing through the woods.

“You have an enchanting voice, for a child of man. Fear not, I have never been more pleased.”

Fidgeting with your strings, you ask:

“Forgive my disrespect, but what… what are you?”

Resting his cheek on his palm, he laughs again.

“Perhaps a better question would be, ‘who are you?’

However, I’ll humour you. I am Malleus Draconia. Your kind would call me a… dragon.

Our true name has been lost in your tongue, unfortunately.”

“That’s a pity.”

A spark of surprise flashes in his eyes, before Malleus leans closer, intrigued by your answer.

“A pity? Alas, but most things are forgotten with time. Only I remain in the end.”

A beat, before you speak. A timid voice, tinged with concern.

“Are you lonely?”

A sigh, soft as a feather. Yet the weight it carried rested heavy on your heart.

“Always, child of man. Always and forever.”

Fingers closing around the fretboard, you lift your instrument up. Pulling it closer to your chest, arm slung over it. Your fingers rest over the strings, nails brushing against every string.

“Would you like me to play another song?”

A quizzical expression spread across Malleus’ face.

“Is that an attempt to console me?”

You shrug, a fluid motion.

“I can’t console you for the eternity you’ll live. But I can keep you company. Play a song or two.

That way, even if it’s just for a moment, you won’t be lonely, right?”

Malleus stares at you, eyes widened in surprise. He’s met countless beings throughout his life. Most of them have comforted him with empty promises, swearing that they’ll follow him forever.

They said he’ll never ever be lonely ever again.

They never stay. Malleus’ rather used to watching the light flicker out from their eyes, a life extinguished. He never understood where these empty words came from.

A love for him? A denial of a person’s own limits? A fear of death?

He doesn’t know. Perhaps he’ll never understand.

However, you were very… aware of your own mortality. The honesty was rather refreshing, after decades of promises going up in smoke.

A smile slips onto his lips. A small one, but a happy one, nonetheless.

“Very well, child of man.

Sing for me.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x reader #Malleus x reader #Malleus #lucky potion🔷 #GODS I’M FINALLY FINISHED WHAT THE HECK #this took so damn long to write but #SUPRISEEEEE #it’s the outcome of the little poll!!!!!!! #here’s a bonus little fic for the people who read the tags #his hands caress yours #fingers trailing over your palm #gently gliding over the callouses on your fingertips #‘it’s rough.’ he mutters #brows creased with worry #you attempt to yank your hand back #suddenly sheepish #‘it’s tha hand of a musician’ you retort #cradling your palm closer to your chest #‘nothing great ever came without sacrifice’ #malleus sighs #‘I see the truth in that… yet I don’t fancy seeing you in pain.’ #plucking a scale from his tail malleus hands it to you #‘perhaps a pick would assist. consider it a gift…. my dear bard.’

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi there! Can i request platonic hcs of Poppy x best friend reader. So lets say Poppy finally joined Naranja/Uva academy and was sadly proven true where many kids were intimadated by her status as an Elite Four, causing her to be isolated by the other kids. But after a few days since she joined the school, a new kid from another region came. The new kid had become the most talked subject around school which cause Poppy to get curious herself. So then she met the reader and quickly become fast friends with them as they didnt know of her Elite Four status

Idk if you notice but i kinda frame this up to be similar to Nemona’s and the Protag’s friendship, so can i also have the rest of the elite four + Nemona and Geeta reacting to Poppy now having a best friend?

(Btw the reader is from Alola and you can choose whatever pokemon you want them to have as their partner as long their from Alola)

Hope you have a good day/night!

- 🪷 Anon

Thank you! Hope you have a good day/night too!

For a split second I thought this was about Poppy Playtime until I read the academy names lmao

........

For a while, Poppy wanted to pursue her studies at Naranja/Uva Academy, seeing as she was at the age where she could attend school.

But her worries about being seen as "different" held her back, although her fellow Elite Four members convinced her and she finally made the choice to enroll.

As she feared, however, students and staff instantly recognized her and were shocked.

They kept wondering if she was here for some inspection, never fully believing she was just trying to be a normal student and forget about her E4 responsibilities.

Unfortunately everywhere she went, kids were intimidated by her status, not wanting to be paired-up with her in battle studies (to the point where Ms. Dendra made them, lest she lowered their grades).

Honestly it made Poppy feel sad, knowing she's getting special treatment from teachers AND frightened looks from kids her age.

She just wanted to make friends, but these past few days have made her feel lonelier than ever...

Or at least, until she overhears chatter about you, the newest exchange student from Alola.

She only picked up a few things, among them being your unique Pokémon nobody has ever seen before...and this gets her curious little mind wondering who you are.

Turns out, you're in most of her classes and always willing to become her partner for assignments!

You didn't know she was an E4 member (heck, you didn't even know Hassel was either), so you struck up a friendship with her rather quickly.

The "unique Pokémon" in question is a very tame Kartana, who looked like an origami project you made in art class--but was really a grass/steel type, which absolutely thrilled Poppy.

If a steel type is your partner, you're automatically upgraded to best friend.

Every now and then, you and her would have battles in and outside the academy (although ofc she holds back a LOT as she's afraid you'll be scared off if you knew her status).

You do wonder why your classmates keep ostracizing her. She was a sweet kid.

When one teen mentions her status, you find that hard to believe and tell them to stop joking around......until you see the look on Poppy's face, meaning they aren't.

You stop her after class, asking if the rumors were true, and she starts crying despite her best efforts to hold back the tears.

"Woah hey! What's wrong?"

"What's wrong??? I-I...I kept such a..a-a big secret from you!! That's what's wrong!!" She sniffles, afraid she's going to lose your friendship over this.

Why did that meanie have to go and do that?

Long story short, your Kartana finds and drags that kid back to you and Poppy, and you make them apologize to her. They definitely learned their lesson after the UB threateningly sharpens its blades while you're scolding them.

That day, Poppy discovers you are a true best friend who doesn't treat her any differently and gives you tons of exp candies as a token of her gratitude.

She becomes more confident in herself, excitedly telling the other Pokémon League members and Nemona (who recently battled her during class) about her new bff.

Hassel, who has seen your friendship grow from the start, is like a proud grandad (and totally didn't sob over it).

Larry appears indifferent, but he does smile a little, glad to hear she's adjusting to the Academy life well.

Rika and Geeta, who were the ones that pushed her to pursue school, couldn't be prouder to see Poppy doing better and finding a great friend such as yourself who didn't judge her.

They had their initial concerns, but realized she was going to be okay after all.

Nemona can 100% relate when she learns how other kids were scared of Poppy bc of her battling skills, and she's thrilled she found a friend who wasn't like that and enjoyed battling her even after learning the truth.

#clanask #lotus anon #pokemon x reader #pokemon sv x reader #pokemon scarlet x reader #pokemon violet x reader #platonic #pokemon poppy #kartana #headcanons

[yourlocaltreesimp]

How much I have to give

I’ve been craving to write some Hyrule. It’s a need, not a want. So here y’all go. Based on a submission by the lovely @fandomsarefamily1966

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Never in the entire time you’d been traveling alongside the chain were you scared of Hyrule. the person, the place was dangerous as fu- He’d proven time and time and time again that so long as he lived, he would not make you uncomfortable. He knew when to pull back and give you space, when to leave a spot for you to sit together in silence and would always stop to listen if you needed help. Of course your heart latched to him. His crooked smile was enough to make anyone swoon, and yet he bore it so freely. His eyes crinkled and he had a small shallow dimple near his chin on the right side. You’d spent so long committing him to memory, each tuft of soft brown hair and each freckle like the stars in the sky. He was familiar. Homey and safe, the person you’d search for after battles not for healing, but to know that you were safe. Perhaps that was healing, but it was of no spell. You were, however, bewitched. Enamoured by each conversation and entranced by every soft touch. He was your definition of safety and comfort, everything possibly good in the world. But your nerves were alight as you looked at him across the clearing. Your heart fluttered seeing him among the flowers. He fit so perfectly. You couldn’t live without knowing if he too saw you like this, if he believes there is good things in the cruel world because he can find goodness in you. You push the thought away before you could give yourself too much hope. But then again, what if he did? What if he too watched you, unable to speak as you took the heart from his chest and cradled it as if it were something precious. What if he too were to scared to admit that he could love, because any time he did it only ended with pain and that cold loneliness. You stood, hoping that however this would happen, that fate would be as kind to you as he was.

Hyrule sat with a book in his lap, pages left open to the sky. He’d been entangled in those pages maybe an hour or so ago, but there’s only so many sonnets he could read without wandering back to you. He had that habit of wandering for as long as he could remember. Now, it was even his namesake. Known for being bound to nowhere, no real home where he can run for solace and friends who are fond of him because the time that passes before he sees them. When his body wanders, there’s no telling where he’ll be. But how is it that when his mind wanders it always wanders back to you? Never once has he been so bound. Never once has he found himself so wholly taken by something or someone. But he shouldn’t be too surprised, you’d been keen on making him realise things about himself. The fragility of a person and how truly rewarding the trust of a true friend can be. The daisies he chained together were much like you. Fragile and yet so persistent, finding their place in flowerbeds, fields, songs and sonnets. You were transcendent to one idea or concept, ever changing and beautiful. And there you were again, sitting across from him quietly, as if he were something to bask in. Your hands fiddled with the grass in front of you, halving the thicker blades.

“Hey rulie” Your smile was small and restrained, bothered and dampened. The brightness in your eyes sapped out until you were back to timid. He handed you the unfinished chain of daisies. They were supposed to be your crown, woven of the world he saw in you, but if the unfinished chain refreshed your wilted expression, he didn’t mind.

“Hello, flower” He played off the nickname with a grin, receiving one of your own in return. It was dull, not so vibrant as he’d grown used to, and it faded quickly to a strained frown. “You are ailed, what is it that bothers you” He found himself leaning forward, trying to catch your attention, to break you from whatever plagued your mind.

“I-“ Your nerves were alight, heart all you could hear. You thought he had it, so why was it you could hear it now? Maybe it best for him. That must’ve been it. “I need you to listen the whole way through and not stop me, is… that alright to ask?” His response was immediate, firm and confident.

“Of course”

You take a deep breath “I’ve been thinking lately, about what it means to be alive” You began, slow and cautious. You really wished you’d thought this out a little more before coming over to spill your guts. “About how people work, their minds creating worlds incomprehensible to us. Worlds that may never be, and have never been.” You look at the chain of daisies looped together in your hand, careful work. Caring work. Just like how he was with you. “I’ve been doing that a lot lately, creating worlds. I find you’re often in them too” His eyes widen in curiosity, head tilting ever so slightly in intrigue. “Worlds where I as never from a different one, Worlds where we met sooner. Worlds where I walk alongside you” You smile, those worlds were always your favourite to think over. He fawns over your dreaminess, that the thought of him could quell the storms of your mind, a raging sea now calm waters. “I like to think that you have some small piece of me. That you carry a part of me with you, to see the world, to live with” He wishes he does. He wishes you’d let him. He wishes to badly to have you, through the good days and bad. “And I think you’ve taken my heart.” You choke on the words, as if speaking them will take you past the point of no return. “Taken it from me still beating, and yet I still live” You can’t find it in yourself to look at him, to see the judgement he made of your words. He can’t find it in himself to stay quiet. His hands cup either side of your cheeks, your eyes snapping to his with the fear and sorrow of a rejection that he would not give to you. He’d read hours worth of sonnets and prose, and yet your words were worth more than the whole book.

“I love you.” He says. It’s honest and a soft. A promise that he is yours as much as you say you are his. The words all he is, all he has to give. He is a man of no riches, but he makes up in honor, the sincerity of his words a branding on his soul. He loves you. With so much of him it bleeds into what he does and says, something so inherent to him. He had to learn how to walk so he could wander, but he did not have to learn to love you. That was something he was made for.

“All that build up and you aren’t going to let me say it first?” You sink into the warmth of his calloused hands and let yourself grow weak. He would not claw at your heart now that he had it.

“I’m sorry, go ahead”

“I love you, Link”

His lips were as sweet as he was.

#submission #linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #link x reader #link x you #x reader #lu hyrulexreader #lu hyrule #fir’s library #firreplies

[darksilvania]

???-VELVELEP [Velvet-Leporidae] -Bug/Dark -The Bunny Worm Pokemon -Ability: Wonder Skin/Shed Skin - Strong Jaw(HA) -Dex: "Its body is soft and its skin is smooth like velvet, this, combined with its cute apperance, lead people and pokemon to believe they are harmless, when, in fact, they are vicious predators. Despite all of its body being soft, they posses a single fang hard as steel and sharp as a blade wich they use to open up their prays for feeding, after having them trapped in sticky webs." -Moveset:      -Super Fang      -Bug Bite      -Toxic Thread      -Sticky Web

-->Evolves at lvl 24<--

???-HAREVESTER [Hare-Harvester] -Bug/Dark -The Bunny Spider Pokemon -Ability:  Wonder Skin/Shed Skin - Strong Jaw(HA) -Dex: "They hide among tall grass and heavy vegetations, creeping as low as possible, showing only their cute upper-bunny-like-torso to give the impression of being small and soft, but as soon as its prey has lowered its guard, they will quickly strike with a poweful leap and a deadly bite from its razor-sharp fang, thats it, if you havent already fell into their sticky web." -Moveset:      -Hyper Fang      -Skitter Smack      -Poison Fang      -Spider Web

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This was born after I saw some photos of this little critter going around on twitter and facebook

It is called a Velvet Worm or Onychophora  and as soon as I saw them I knew I wanted to turn them into a fakemon, if you followed me in Twitter you would have seen the whole process. But in the end I wanted to give my little bunny worm an evolution, and after some though I chose another bunny looking creepy crawly

The Bunny Harvestman is a species of Opiliones, a type of arachnid known for their long legs. They are harmless to humans but the whole "Long Leg" family of spiders is believed to have the most deadly bite among arachnids, similar to the Solifugae, which is a lie since their fangs are too small to make any damge, but I did use that in order to turn my spider bunny into a cute looking savage predator, based too on the fact that Velvet Worms are actually voracious predators

#pokemon #fakemon #fake pokemon #bunny worm #velvet worm #spider bunny #bunny harvestman #bug type #bug pokemon #bug fakemon #dark pokemon #dark fakemon #dark type

[wolfythewitch]

She isn't really sure why she did it to begin with.

    Maybe it's because she's bored, all alone in her nest strung together by weeds and grass, decorated by a ribcage here or a femur there. Maybe it's because the man looked different, kinder somehow, a faint smile on his face despite how empty the roads were. He looked young, his face red in the midday heat, smile lines on his cheek. Maybe it's because of the blindfold he wore around his eyes, a thick gauzy thing, and a staff held loosely in his hand, tapping the ground before him in intervals. He walked with certainty, like he knew where he was meant to go. Where he had to go to slay her. Still, he cannot see. He will not be able to see her if she hides. 

    And hide she did, behind the trees and the brush and the forest floor, nestled among the grass and leaves with her breath as silent as can be. She was curious, and it got awfully boring waiting for the humans to come to her. These paths are long and winded and these woods are not safe when night falls. Her soon-to-be meal walks through without a care in the world, humming a simple tune as he just waltzes on into her territory. He amused her. Surely he would have perished by now, mauled by the stray monster or beats, had her presence not warded them away. It was not because he was blind, she knew enough not to underestimate humans, even with their scars. No, it was the way he carried himself, confident to an arrogant degree, unnervingly cheerful. It was as if he did not know the dangers of these woods, or perhaps he did not care. 

    Her eyes trail him for a few seconds longer, before the warrior stills, staff coming to a rest at his side. His other hand wanders to the hilt of his sword, fingers tapping on it a nervous rhythm. 

    "Who's there?" He calls out. It's a pleasant voice, all things considered. "I can feel you staring at me." 

    Ah, so he did. She did say that humans were not to be underestimated. They're strange, so fragile despite their tenacity. Yet, they thrive in the harshest of environments, like a weed that refuses to die. 

    She dons on her skin suit, an elegant thing that wouldn't fool the common man. It does well enough, she thinks, but it can't do much to hide the head of feathers she has instead of hair, or the ways her fingers stretch into long talons. Still, it will placate the human, if his senses are to be followed. Stepping out into the light, she says,

    "Oh– I'm so sorry." Her voice is a bit rough from disuse, but perhaps she can blame it on the thirst. "I think I'm a bit lost–? I can't seem to find my way around here."

    "Ah." The stranger's hand drops from his blade. Foolish man. His face loosens with relief, mouth widening into a grin. "No worries, mate. I'm heading down this path. Care to join? We can keep each other company until the next town over– if that's where you're headed to, that is." 

    He's so trusting, she muses. He did not even think to ask why she had been in these woods of all places. 

    "Oh! That would be great." She says, relieved. "I was so worried about having to spend the night here alone." 

    The stranger chuckles. "Of course. You can never be too careful in this place." She tries not to laugh. "My name's Phil. Can I have yours?"

    She ponders for a moment. "Kristin." She decides, rolling it around in her mouth, satisfied with the way it sings. "You can call me Kristin." 

Hi guys guess what I wrote at 3am

#philza #mumza #monster au #not sure if im gonna do anything with this #but also i find the words Skin Suit very funny #its not liab but ya know aus go brrr